Hope Is a Thing with Feathers (SN, Castiel, 5/?)
The interior of the building was brightly lit by long fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling. Racks of clothes in soldierly lines flanked the aisle in front of them, splitting around a counter where a grey-haired, heavy-set woman waited on a young mother who was trying to settle a fussy baby that kept trying to grab her long brown ponytail with his chubby fists.
"This here place sells used things, but they're all in good shape," Bobby commented as they walked toward the racks that were marked as displaying men's clothing.
Castiel nodded, the array of clothing surrounding him almost bewildering in its variety. He felt Bobby's gaze when the other man glanced at him and realized he was waiting for an answer.
"I believe I have enough that is new," he murmured, and Bobby chuckled quietly.
"Good point, I figure a few pairs of jeans, some shirts and sweaters should do you all right for now."
The answering nod he received was grave, and Castiel began examining the clothes on the rack in front of him, blinking in surprise when Bobby tapped his shoulder and pointed toward a rack marked 'M to L'. "Might fit ya better than small stuff."
"Ahh. Thank you." The new rack received a close scrutiny as he ran his hands over the varied garments in front of them. The textures of the shirts were tantalizing in their differences, from almost rough to downy softness, and he cocked his head to the side, trying to discern the differences in their craftsmanship. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out pieces that felt the most pleasing to his fingertips, glancing at Bobby who winced at one selection.
"My choices are not appropriate?" he asked, frowning as Bobby cleared his throat and pointed toward the offending garment.
"It's just, that's a little bright is all."
He looked back at the sweater, noting the difference between the pale pink and the earthen tones of Bobby's clothes and of the borrowed ones he wore, and nodded slowly. "I should... blend in more. I understand." The pink sweater went back on the rod, and he searched more diligently, this time taking color into consideration as well as texture.
In time, he had selected an assortment of shirts and pullovers, the latter in something that Bobby called fleece, and several pairs of jeans were added to the pile. At that point Bobby led him to another aisle and tossed a plastic bag of pristine white socks onto the pile in Castiel's arms. The familiarity and memory of how it had felt pulling the fresh pair on the day before drew a smile to his lips in anticipation of feeling the sensation again.
"All right... Hell." Bobby's rough grumble had him looking back, his eyes widening in worry that something was wrong, but the other man was only rubbing his grizzled chin, a slight flush staining his cheeks.
"Robert?"
"Hell. I doubt ya know if ya like boxers or briefs." Muttering under his breath about there being a reason he never had kids, Bobby scrubbed harder at his chin, causing Castiel to realize that the older man was uncomfortable with the topic at hand. Carefully balancing his clothes on one arm, he reached out and selected a package with a familiar picture on it from the hanging rack.
"I am familiar with undergarments," he assured Bobby, the comment earning a strangled laugh in response.
"I suppose that's a good thing. There ain't gonna be much in the way of boots here, so we'll pay for these and head out. Got a few more stops and we'll find ya some at one of them - and don't say thank you again, got it?"
Castiel opened his mouth before closing it again and nodding solemnly, not sure of what response he should give since the one that seemed most appropriate was now barred to him.
Bobby watched him for a moment before giving a curt nod of his own. "Good, now come on." With that he led Castiel to a desk at the front of the store and motioned for him to put his items down on the counter. The dark-haired woman behind the counter greeted them in a bored fashion and slowly rang up each item, placing them into a large plastic bag and announcing the total in a voice that never varied in tone, causing Castiel to wonder why she took this position if she found it so tedious.
Once Bobby had paid the bill and they were back outside in the bitter chill, he voiced the question, causing Bobby to shake his head. "People gotta eat, boy. Down here most folks take what jobs they can to survive."
"So it is not her choice to work in that establishment?" This was asked after they were in the truck and out of the wind.
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't, but it's how she's making her living. Mite easier than some things I could think of."
The words resonated in his mind, and Castiel was silent as Bobby steered the truck toward his next destination. His pensive mood remained as Bobby walked him through picking out a new pair of boots, not even the relief at removing the tight ones he had been wearing lightening his mood. He watched as Bobby picked out the makings of shotgun shells, then paid for everything, and followed him back outside, climbing back into the truck and buckling his seatbelt before speaking.
"Why would she work there if she does not like it? She has free will, she has a choice."
Bobby winced at the question, looking as if he was in pain. "Yeah, she has a choice, but if ya don't work, ya don't eat. Did you always like yer job?"
"I am here."
"Okay, bad example. Not everyone on this earth is happy all of the time; hell, some folks are pretty damn miserable, but I'd say most of 'em wouldn't take the alternative if you offered it to them."
"The alternative?"
"Dying."
"They fear Hell?"
"No. Well, maybe some of 'em do, but they fear death more. We've got a blink of an eye in this existence compared to what you've seen, and we hang on to it tooth and nail. Life's short so it's precious." Bobby fell silent at that and pressed his lips together as he took a deep breath.
Watching him, Castiel realized that he was thinking of his dead wife, the woman who had been possessed by a demon. He was at a loss as to how to reply to that. He was now human, he now had the same finite lifespan as the man beside him, but that fact still had not sunk into him, and he doubted it would ever be as much of a part of him as it was to those who had lived with mortality from the moment they were born.
"One last stop, gotta get food, then we'll head back."
"I am sorry if my questions disturbed you," Castiel said quietly.
"It ain't that," Bobby said gruffly. "It's only fitting that you ask 'em; it just makes me think is all. Not your fault."
"I am still sorry."
"Yeah, well don't be, you didn't have nothing to do with it."
"This here place sells used things, but they're all in good shape," Bobby commented as they walked toward the racks that were marked as displaying men's clothing.
Castiel nodded, the array of clothing surrounding him almost bewildering in its variety. He felt Bobby's gaze when the other man glanced at him and realized he was waiting for an answer.
"I believe I have enough that is new," he murmured, and Bobby chuckled quietly.
"Good point, I figure a few pairs of jeans, some shirts and sweaters should do you all right for now."
The answering nod he received was grave, and Castiel began examining the clothes on the rack in front of him, blinking in surprise when Bobby tapped his shoulder and pointed toward a rack marked 'M to L'. "Might fit ya better than small stuff."
"Ahh. Thank you." The new rack received a close scrutiny as he ran his hands over the varied garments in front of them. The textures of the shirts were tantalizing in their differences, from almost rough to downy softness, and he cocked his head to the side, trying to discern the differences in their craftsmanship. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out pieces that felt the most pleasing to his fingertips, glancing at Bobby who winced at one selection.
"My choices are not appropriate?" he asked, frowning as Bobby cleared his throat and pointed toward the offending garment.
"It's just, that's a little bright is all."
He looked back at the sweater, noting the difference between the pale pink and the earthen tones of Bobby's clothes and of the borrowed ones he wore, and nodded slowly. "I should... blend in more. I understand." The pink sweater went back on the rod, and he searched more diligently, this time taking color into consideration as well as texture.
In time, he had selected an assortment of shirts and pullovers, the latter in something that Bobby called fleece, and several pairs of jeans were added to the pile. At that point Bobby led him to another aisle and tossed a plastic bag of pristine white socks onto the pile in Castiel's arms. The familiarity and memory of how it had felt pulling the fresh pair on the day before drew a smile to his lips in anticipation of feeling the sensation again.
"All right... Hell." Bobby's rough grumble had him looking back, his eyes widening in worry that something was wrong, but the other man was only rubbing his grizzled chin, a slight flush staining his cheeks.
"Robert?"
"Hell. I doubt ya know if ya like boxers or briefs." Muttering under his breath about there being a reason he never had kids, Bobby scrubbed harder at his chin, causing Castiel to realize that the older man was uncomfortable with the topic at hand. Carefully balancing his clothes on one arm, he reached out and selected a package with a familiar picture on it from the hanging rack.
"I am familiar with undergarments," he assured Bobby, the comment earning a strangled laugh in response.
"I suppose that's a good thing. There ain't gonna be much in the way of boots here, so we'll pay for these and head out. Got a few more stops and we'll find ya some at one of them - and don't say thank you again, got it?"
Castiel opened his mouth before closing it again and nodding solemnly, not sure of what response he should give since the one that seemed most appropriate was now barred to him.
Bobby watched him for a moment before giving a curt nod of his own. "Good, now come on." With that he led Castiel to a desk at the front of the store and motioned for him to put his items down on the counter. The dark-haired woman behind the counter greeted them in a bored fashion and slowly rang up each item, placing them into a large plastic bag and announcing the total in a voice that never varied in tone, causing Castiel to wonder why she took this position if she found it so tedious.
Once Bobby had paid the bill and they were back outside in the bitter chill, he voiced the question, causing Bobby to shake his head. "People gotta eat, boy. Down here most folks take what jobs they can to survive."
"So it is not her choice to work in that establishment?" This was asked after they were in the truck and out of the wind.
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't, but it's how she's making her living. Mite easier than some things I could think of."
The words resonated in his mind, and Castiel was silent as Bobby steered the truck toward his next destination. His pensive mood remained as Bobby walked him through picking out a new pair of boots, not even the relief at removing the tight ones he had been wearing lightening his mood. He watched as Bobby picked out the makings of shotgun shells, then paid for everything, and followed him back outside, climbing back into the truck and buckling his seatbelt before speaking.
"Why would she work there if she does not like it? She has free will, she has a choice."
Bobby winced at the question, looking as if he was in pain. "Yeah, she has a choice, but if ya don't work, ya don't eat. Did you always like yer job?"
"I am here."
"Okay, bad example. Not everyone on this earth is happy all of the time; hell, some folks are pretty damn miserable, but I'd say most of 'em wouldn't take the alternative if you offered it to them."
"The alternative?"
"Dying."
"They fear Hell?"
"No. Well, maybe some of 'em do, but they fear death more. We've got a blink of an eye in this existence compared to what you've seen, and we hang on to it tooth and nail. Life's short so it's precious." Bobby fell silent at that and pressed his lips together as he took a deep breath.
Watching him, Castiel realized that he was thinking of his dead wife, the woman who had been possessed by a demon. He was at a loss as to how to reply to that. He was now human, he now had the same finite lifespan as the man beside him, but that fact still had not sunk into him, and he doubted it would ever be as much of a part of him as it was to those who had lived with mortality from the moment they were born.
"One last stop, gotta get food, then we'll head back."
"I am sorry if my questions disturbed you," Castiel said quietly.
"It ain't that," Bobby said gruffly. "It's only fitting that you ask 'em; it just makes me think is all. Not your fault."
"I am still sorry."
"Yeah, well don't be, you didn't have nothing to do with it."