HEY GUYS WOW SORRY its super short I know but I just wanted to give you guys a little more before I have to work all day. I dunno, just felt like posting something, really~ Enjoy this tiny ass chapter.
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...Cas?
Deans stomach nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of the confused and shaken little angel at the door of his ''office''.
Shit... Shit shit shit. Fuck!
Dean panicked silently, his brain scattering through plans and ideas and what in the fucking world he could do in this situation.
He cleared his throat lightly and brought his voice up as high in pitch as he could without sounding like a raspy woman.
''C-come in!''
He sounded like a raspy woman.
Shit, tone down the house wive, damn.
Castiel stumbled in tipsily, hitting his head on the door in a moment.
Dean rubbed his temples before gripping Castiels wrist and dragging him into the room, slamming the door with his foot as he walked.
Castiel grabbed at the air behind him, searching for a surface to lean on. To no avail. Dean carefully guided him to the large leather upholstered (torture) table and quickly put him in one of the wrist shackles. He backed away immediately, his back meeting harshly with the cold wall.
Fucking brain, damn it! Just WORK!
The confused Angel fumbled with the shackle for a moment.
''Dean?''
Yes? NO! Fuck.
''Excuse me.. But have you seen Dean? This woman said she knew where I wanted to go... Which was to Dean. Sam speculated that he might be here.''
Dean swallowed hard.
And then, like a rainbow in a drought, a thought popped into Deans head entirely at random and made no fucking sense.
But he went with it.
He put on the fruitiest voice he could muster up.
''Oh honey.''
With his deep gravely voice he ended up sounding like a chain-smoking drag queen. Good enough.
''Deans not here, we uh- we don't know of any Deans here! Sorry doll!''
Jesus fuck what even is this accent? Brooklyn-ese? New Jersey-an?
''Oh. Well then can I remove this blind-''
''NO.''
Dean rushed across the room and without hesitation knocked the angel back forcefully onto the table and shackled his other hand above his head.
He found himself sitting atop Castiel's stomach.
His face burned like fuck.
''N-no you have to keep it on. Its.. Its tradition!''
I'm sounding more and more like a middle aged Jewish woman...
Castiel was confused.
''And the shackles...
Are they also tradition?''
Damn it, Cas.