A/N: Yeah, that's a King of the Hill reference :P
Warning: Deals with that particular aspect of female health and a little swearing.
3. He went down that horrifying aisle for her.
Following aisle 7-B, the aisle of deodorants and hand sanitizer and other similar products, was the dreaded aisle 8-A. Castiel never went down that dreaded aisle, because it was a place reserved for women and a problem that belonged only to them, in which he did not want to involve himself with in any way, shape, or form.
And yet now he stood at the mouth of aisle 8-A, shopping cart handle in his sweaty palms and scowl on his face. He really did not want to go down there. In fact, he'd rather roll in steak sauce and throw himself in a pit of ravenous lions than go down that awful aisle.
But Castiel had to go down it. Because Deborah had begged him to do this for her with a hand wrapped around her cramping stomach and a voice laced with tears.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, tossing awkward glances over his shoulder and not even knowing what he was looking for. Just stalling, probably. A soft buzz in his back pocket pulled him out of his delaying stupor. His phone. He picked it up and quickly opened the new text.
Deborah: mind getting some chocolate while you're there?
Sure. Why not. Chocolate was a cakewalk, especially after what he was about to purchase. Sure thing babe, he sent back to her. He sighed and at last pushed himself on into the dreaded aisle of 8-A.
Feminine products lined every single shelf. They mocked him with their bright plastic packaging. The sheer number of their variety was overwhelming and his head spun at the very notion that sifting through said variety might take some time. It made his skin crawl, he wanted to spend as little time in this lengthy aisle of horror as possible. But he sure as hell wasn't about to text Deborah back and ask her what kind she wanted.
That was just way too awkward. It was awkward enough that she sent him here to begin with, he didn't want to spend any more time discussing this with her. He just wanted to grab something, go, and forget it ever happened. But on the other hand, he couldn't just grab any random package either. Because then there was the possibility that he'd buy the wrong kind. And if he bought the wrong kind, not only would Deborah be disappointed and unhappy, but she might send him back here all over again to buy the right kind.
"Oh, fuck my life." With a low groan, Castiel simply grabbed every distinctive brand of tampon in immediate reaching distance and tossed it into the cart.
At least one out of the six had to be what she wanted, right?
He hoped so, because that was about all he could afford. He swiftly backpedaled out of the aisle and off to the cash register. A display rack of snacks and candies was off the right and he snagged the widest milk chocolate bar there.
It seemed to him that the woman at the register was being particularly sluggish with ringing it all up and he was already twitching with impatience. The man in line behind him glanced over his items of purchase with a snicker. Castiel wasn't sure whether he was more annoyed or embarrassed, but either way, shot the man an agitated glower.
"That'll be $19.31"
"Keep the change." He shoved a crinkled twenty into her grasp and snatched up the bags. It felt like an eternity before he finally made it back on Deborah's doorstep.
"Oh, thank you Kitten," she gushed. A wave of relief washed over him as she took the bags and his hands felt about ten pounds lighter. She briefly pressed her lips to his cheek.
"No problem," he said casually even though it had really felt like a problem. Ugh. He never ever wanted to do that again.
"Now go away. I don't want to see you until next week." She offered him an apologetic smile and then shut the door in his face.
As terrible and unappealing that venture was, Deborah now had what she needed and was happy with him. That made it worth the mental scarring.
