FIC: "To Be a Winchester" by shadow_artemis - PG - (6/14)
Title: To Be a Winchester: Clothing (6/14)
Author: shadow_artemis
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Sam (shades of pre-Destiel that are completely neglible)
Rating: PG for language
Summary: It had all started out so simply: “If you’re gonna be apart of this family, you’re gonna have to start acting like a Winchester.” Now Dean wasn't so sure.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. I'm just a college bum. I owe more than I own.
Notes: This one happens after the Apocalypse aversion, which isn't exactly the same as the one in-show. I'm not sure how it happens in my version yet, but it involves Sam and Cas sticking around.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |14
A sleek black Impala of the 1967 persuasion cruised down the street, glistening under the bright summer sun; inside, three men scanned the passing storefronts with the precision of hawks. Or, to be more precise, two of the three men were hawk-eying the shops while the third looked out the window in a much more lackluster fashion.
“Dean, this isn’t necessary,” Castiel stated from the backseat. “I’m perfectly comfortable with what I already have.” The hunter’s eyes never left his side of the road, but he shook his head slightly.
“You need this, man,” he replied simply, and continued looking. The angel had repeated the same sentiment in different ways for the last fifteen minutes, as if he could wear them down and put an end to this. He obviously didn’t quite comprehend the level of persistence and stamina they’d learned from their father, not if he thought that tactic would even remotely work.
Besides, if Cas really wanted to leave, he would’ve just flown away when they told him what they were going out for. Part of him obviously wanted to be here, and not just the part that was friends with them, otherwise he would’ve just kept flying back to the motel room every time they tried dragging him out.
“Found one,” Sam shouted. Dean instantly slowed down and leaned over to look out of his brother’s window. “Right there, between the frozen yogurt place and the computer store.”
“Awesome.” The older Winchester pulled into a parking spot in front of the store and climbed out, giving the sluggish angel a glance. “Come on, don’t act like a little girl. It’s not that difficult.” Cas gave him a dubious look, but followed the brothers into the store all the same. The bell over the door jingled as they entered, drawing a smile from the woman behind the counter.
“Hey guys, how’re you doing today? Can I help you find anything?” she asked sunnily, setting down the book she was reading. Dean and Sam smiled back, with the former elbowing Cas when he just stared. The angel instantly pasted a friendly smile on his face.
“We’re doing great. My friend here just needs some new clothes,” Dean replied, nodding to Cas. “He’s been wearing the same suit for ages.”
“Two years,” the angel corrected; the woman raised an astonished, if not doubtful, eyebrow.
“You’ve been wearing the same suit for two years?” she asked, receiving only a solemn nod as an answer. Her jaw dropped slightly, but she made no comment.
“Hence why he needs something new,” Sam interjected with a playful smile, as if Castiel was just messing with her. She just nodded slowly.
“Right. Well, men’s clothing is over there.” She pointed to the left half of the store and picked up her book again. “I’m here if you need any help.”
“Of course. Thanks,” Sam said, smiling at her even as Dean pushed Cas along to the racks she’d pointed out. Hundreds of t-shirts in every color jumped out at them first; Dean immediately took up the job of sorting through them. Sam took a rack next to his brother, looking at the button-down shirts that he and Dean favored, while Cas stood reluctantly behind them.
“Really, this isn’t necessary, guys,” he repeated, and once again his words fell on deaf ears. The Winchesters continued rummaging through the racks, occasionally pulling out a shirt, and swiftly moving on to other racks full of jeans and coats.
“You’re not getting out of this anymore,” Dean said, not looking away from the grey military-style jacket he was inspecting. “Now that Lucifer’s ass is grass, you don’t have an excuse, especially if you’re sticking around.”
“Besides,” Sam added, pulling another pair of worn blue jeans out, “that suit has the crap beaten out of it. You need something new.” The angel opened his mouth to continue his protests, but Dean shot him a look that quickly shut him up.
They went on in relative silence after that, each Winchester loaded down with articles of clothing by the time they had sorted through all the racks and the long shelf of shoes. The pair beelined for the dressing rooms, dropping their piles of clothing onto the small bench and hanging a few select things on the plastic hooks.
Castiel hung back as they arranged a few things, watching with a wary eye until Dean turned to him.
“Go ahead, man. You don’t have to try everything on, just a few things to see what you like and what stuff fits better.” He ushered the angel in, closing the door behind him before stopping for a second. “And don’t pull any of that ‘I don’t like any of it’ crap. There’s gotta be something in there you like, or you’ll end up wearing whatever we buy you without complaining.” With that light threat hanging in the air, he shut the dressing room door on the angel, who stood looking vaguely dejected amongst the piles of clothing as the door put him out of view.
The brothers hung just outside of the room, listening intently to make sure Cas was actually trying things on; they were reassured by the sounds of clothing rustling and zippers zipping for close to two minutes. Silence came for a quick second, and then Cas pushed the door open. He was wearing worn blue jeans, a dark blue button-down shirt over a grey Metallica t-shirt and a pair of laced-up work boots.
“This is... not as bad as I thought,” Cas hesitantly stated, pulling on a sleeve absently. Like Dean, he had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; Sam attempted to mask a quiet chuckle at the sight, but his brother noticed.
“What?” Dean asked, turning to Sam with raised eyebrows. The younger Winchester just shrugged, still grinning.
“He looks like you, man.”
“And? I look damn fine, thank you very much.” Sam snorted but said nothing, while Dean looked back to Castiel. “You like it?”
“I believe so,” the angel replied, looking down at himself. “The shirt is particularly comfortable.” This put a large smile on the elder Winchester’s face.
“The magic of cotton and Metallica,” he said, almost marveling. “And the jeans and boots fit?” Cas pulled on the pants, stuffing his hands into his pockets experimentally.
“The boots are fine, but I’m not sure about the jeans. They don’t feel right on my thighs.” Sam nodded.
“Then try another pair on, but toss stuff you like over to us.” The angel hesitated at the idea of trying more clothing on, but reentered the small room under the steadfast stares from the boys. They resumed their posts outside of the door while Cas undressed, the t-shirt and button-down flopping over the door. Sam grabbed these, starting a pile next to his feet.
A couple minutes later, he reemerged, dressed in similar clothes as the first time: a grey long-sleeved shirt, with two of the three buttons at the neckline undone to reveal an dark orange shirt layered underneath, along with a new pair of weathered jeans and the same boots. The crowning grace of this outfit, though, was the olive green military jacket, fitting him to a tee.
“It looks good, Cas,” Sam said with an approving nod. “You really look like a human.”
“I’ve always looked human,” Cas countered, shooting a glance the taller man’s way. Dean pursed his lips, eyebrows nearly meeting as he mentally debated the idea.
“Not really, man, not with that old suit and weird stare. You were more like the angelic lovechild of Klaatu and John Constantine.” The angel raised his eyebrows, still not well-versed in Dean’s references. “Klaatu was the alien in ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’ and Constantine was a demon-hunting badass who always wore a suit and trench. Both played by Keanu Reeves, actually,” Dean added as an afterthought. “Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” Sam and Castiel considered his words for a moment before going back to the matter at hand.
“So you like these?” Sam asked, nodding back to the new clothes. The angel glanced down to what he was wearing, adjusting the jacket distractedly.
“Yes, I like these very much,” he replied. “The jeans are comfortable, much more so than the last pair, and I really like the coat.”
“Awesome,” Dean said, glancing to his brother. They exchanged silent conversation, which Castiel understood to be a very different sort of telepathy than what he utilized with his own brethren. He could have listened in if he wanted to, but he had been told by Dean multiple times that reading someone else’s thoughts was still an invasion of privacy whether God gave him the ability to or not.
“Alright, pass over all the stuff you like that fits, and we’ll go pay for it,” Sam said when he and Dean were done trading looks.
“And I can put my suit back on?” the angel asked hopefully.
“No,” the brothers said at the same time, pushing Cas back into the dressing room. Clothes swung over the top of the door, Sam and Dean grabbing them as they appeared.
“That’s everything,” Castiel said after a minute. “Can I at least put my pants back on?”
“No,” was the stereo annoyed response. The Winchesters headed to the cash register, leaving the nearly naked angel standing awkwardly in a strange, small room, unsure of what to do with himself. A couple minutes later, the boys thankfully returned, tossing a bag over the door.
“What’s this?” Cas asked, inspecting the bag.
“Your new clothes,” Dean replied. “Toss us over the suit and put those on. The rest will go in the trunk, and we’ll burn the damn suit when we get out of town.” The angel started to protest, but Dean’s hand shot over the top of the door. “Give me the suit, Cas. It’s time to move on.” With a pout on his face that he was sure neither brother could see, the angel did as he was told. Dean’s hand snatched the old clothing away as soon as he felt it, adding gruffly, “And no pouting.”
“...I’m not pouting,” Cas replied with as much conviction as he could muster while lying, and pulled the jeans from the bag on. Dean just grunted an ‘uh-huh’ and let him finish dressing in relative silence.
When he emerged, Sam had to stifle yet another laugh, which earned him a stern glance from his older brother. The clothes Dean had chosen for Castiel were about as quintessentially Dean Winchester as it could get: a nondescript pair of jeans, tan work boots and a dark blue plaid button-down left unbuttoned over a t-shirt that was such a dark shade of brown, it was almost black. In what obviously was an unconscious mimicry of his charge’s style, the sleeves were yet again rolled up to the elbows. Even under his brother’s continuing glare, Sam couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What?” the angel asked this time, head tilted quizzically. “Is there something wrong with my outfit?” Dean just shook his head, giving his brother another disdainful look, and then smiled back at Castiel.
“He’s just being an idiot,” the older Winchester replied, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You look great.”
“Yeah, great,” Sam mirrored mirthfully, huge grin splitting his face as the trio picked up the other bags and headed out. “Absolutely classic.” Over his shoulder, Dean arched an eyebrow at his little brother, but dropped it and looked back to Cas, who was watching the brotherly interaction with equal parts interest and bemusement, and just shook his head.
“He’s just jealous of our stunning good looks,” Dean explained, with a smile adorning his lips that told of someone who was simultaneously joshing their siblings and being charmingly serious. They loaded the shopping bags into the backseat, nestled in the slim space around the brothers’ duffel bags and assorted possessions. After tossing the rumpled suit into the trunk, Cas eying it morosely, they slid into their customary positions within the car and got comfortable; as Dean checked his mirrors, he caught sight of his angel friend in the backseat, staring out the window into space, and smiled.
“You really look like one of us now,” the hunter commented with amusement, and perhaps a bit of pride, as he turned the engine of his baby over.
Castiel, catching his friend’s eyes in the rearview, smiled his barely-there smile and replied, “God help us all.”
Author: shadow_artemis
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Sam (shades of pre-Destiel that are completely neglible)
Rating: PG for language
Summary: It had all started out so simply: “If you’re gonna be apart of this family, you’re gonna have to start acting like a Winchester.” Now Dean wasn't so sure.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. I'm just a college bum. I owe more than I own.
Notes: This one happens after the Apocalypse aversion, which isn't exactly the same as the one in-show. I'm not sure how it happens in my version yet, but it involves Sam and Cas sticking around.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |14
A sleek black Impala of the 1967 persuasion cruised down the street, glistening under the bright summer sun; inside, three men scanned the passing storefronts with the precision of hawks. Or, to be more precise, two of the three men were hawk-eying the shops while the third looked out the window in a much more lackluster fashion.
“Dean, this isn’t necessary,” Castiel stated from the backseat. “I’m perfectly comfortable with what I already have.” The hunter’s eyes never left his side of the road, but he shook his head slightly.
“You need this, man,” he replied simply, and continued looking. The angel had repeated the same sentiment in different ways for the last fifteen minutes, as if he could wear them down and put an end to this. He obviously didn’t quite comprehend the level of persistence and stamina they’d learned from their father, not if he thought that tactic would even remotely work.
Besides, if Cas really wanted to leave, he would’ve just flown away when they told him what they were going out for. Part of him obviously wanted to be here, and not just the part that was friends with them, otherwise he would’ve just kept flying back to the motel room every time they tried dragging him out.
“Found one,” Sam shouted. Dean instantly slowed down and leaned over to look out of his brother’s window. “Right there, between the frozen yogurt place and the computer store.”
“Awesome.” The older Winchester pulled into a parking spot in front of the store and climbed out, giving the sluggish angel a glance. “Come on, don’t act like a little girl. It’s not that difficult.” Cas gave him a dubious look, but followed the brothers into the store all the same. The bell over the door jingled as they entered, drawing a smile from the woman behind the counter.
“Hey guys, how’re you doing today? Can I help you find anything?” she asked sunnily, setting down the book she was reading. Dean and Sam smiled back, with the former elbowing Cas when he just stared. The angel instantly pasted a friendly smile on his face.
“We’re doing great. My friend here just needs some new clothes,” Dean replied, nodding to Cas. “He’s been wearing the same suit for ages.”
“Two years,” the angel corrected; the woman raised an astonished, if not doubtful, eyebrow.
“You’ve been wearing the same suit for two years?” she asked, receiving only a solemn nod as an answer. Her jaw dropped slightly, but she made no comment.
“Hence why he needs something new,” Sam interjected with a playful smile, as if Castiel was just messing with her. She just nodded slowly.
“Right. Well, men’s clothing is over there.” She pointed to the left half of the store and picked up her book again. “I’m here if you need any help.”
“Of course. Thanks,” Sam said, smiling at her even as Dean pushed Cas along to the racks she’d pointed out. Hundreds of t-shirts in every color jumped out at them first; Dean immediately took up the job of sorting through them. Sam took a rack next to his brother, looking at the button-down shirts that he and Dean favored, while Cas stood reluctantly behind them.
“Really, this isn’t necessary, guys,” he repeated, and once again his words fell on deaf ears. The Winchesters continued rummaging through the racks, occasionally pulling out a shirt, and swiftly moving on to other racks full of jeans and coats.
“You’re not getting out of this anymore,” Dean said, not looking away from the grey military-style jacket he was inspecting. “Now that Lucifer’s ass is grass, you don’t have an excuse, especially if you’re sticking around.”
“Besides,” Sam added, pulling another pair of worn blue jeans out, “that suit has the crap beaten out of it. You need something new.” The angel opened his mouth to continue his protests, but Dean shot him a look that quickly shut him up.
They went on in relative silence after that, each Winchester loaded down with articles of clothing by the time they had sorted through all the racks and the long shelf of shoes. The pair beelined for the dressing rooms, dropping their piles of clothing onto the small bench and hanging a few select things on the plastic hooks.
Castiel hung back as they arranged a few things, watching with a wary eye until Dean turned to him.
“Go ahead, man. You don’t have to try everything on, just a few things to see what you like and what stuff fits better.” He ushered the angel in, closing the door behind him before stopping for a second. “And don’t pull any of that ‘I don’t like any of it’ crap. There’s gotta be something in there you like, or you’ll end up wearing whatever we buy you without complaining.” With that light threat hanging in the air, he shut the dressing room door on the angel, who stood looking vaguely dejected amongst the piles of clothing as the door put him out of view.
The brothers hung just outside of the room, listening intently to make sure Cas was actually trying things on; they were reassured by the sounds of clothing rustling and zippers zipping for close to two minutes. Silence came for a quick second, and then Cas pushed the door open. He was wearing worn blue jeans, a dark blue button-down shirt over a grey Metallica t-shirt and a pair of laced-up work boots.
“This is... not as bad as I thought,” Cas hesitantly stated, pulling on a sleeve absently. Like Dean, he had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; Sam attempted to mask a quiet chuckle at the sight, but his brother noticed.
“What?” Dean asked, turning to Sam with raised eyebrows. The younger Winchester just shrugged, still grinning.
“He looks like you, man.”
“And? I look damn fine, thank you very much.” Sam snorted but said nothing, while Dean looked back to Castiel. “You like it?”
“I believe so,” the angel replied, looking down at himself. “The shirt is particularly comfortable.” This put a large smile on the elder Winchester’s face.
“The magic of cotton and Metallica,” he said, almost marveling. “And the jeans and boots fit?” Cas pulled on the pants, stuffing his hands into his pockets experimentally.
“The boots are fine, but I’m not sure about the jeans. They don’t feel right on my thighs.” Sam nodded.
“Then try another pair on, but toss stuff you like over to us.” The angel hesitated at the idea of trying more clothing on, but reentered the small room under the steadfast stares from the boys. They resumed their posts outside of the door while Cas undressed, the t-shirt and button-down flopping over the door. Sam grabbed these, starting a pile next to his feet.
A couple minutes later, he reemerged, dressed in similar clothes as the first time: a grey long-sleeved shirt, with two of the three buttons at the neckline undone to reveal an dark orange shirt layered underneath, along with a new pair of weathered jeans and the same boots. The crowning grace of this outfit, though, was the olive green military jacket, fitting him to a tee.
“It looks good, Cas,” Sam said with an approving nod. “You really look like a human.”
“I’ve always looked human,” Cas countered, shooting a glance the taller man’s way. Dean pursed his lips, eyebrows nearly meeting as he mentally debated the idea.
“Not really, man, not with that old suit and weird stare. You were more like the angelic lovechild of Klaatu and John Constantine.” The angel raised his eyebrows, still not well-versed in Dean’s references. “Klaatu was the alien in ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’ and Constantine was a demon-hunting badass who always wore a suit and trench. Both played by Keanu Reeves, actually,” Dean added as an afterthought. “Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” Sam and Castiel considered his words for a moment before going back to the matter at hand.
“So you like these?” Sam asked, nodding back to the new clothes. The angel glanced down to what he was wearing, adjusting the jacket distractedly.
“Yes, I like these very much,” he replied. “The jeans are comfortable, much more so than the last pair, and I really like the coat.”
“Awesome,” Dean said, glancing to his brother. They exchanged silent conversation, which Castiel understood to be a very different sort of telepathy than what he utilized with his own brethren. He could have listened in if he wanted to, but he had been told by Dean multiple times that reading someone else’s thoughts was still an invasion of privacy whether God gave him the ability to or not.
“Alright, pass over all the stuff you like that fits, and we’ll go pay for it,” Sam said when he and Dean were done trading looks.
“And I can put my suit back on?” the angel asked hopefully.
“No,” the brothers said at the same time, pushing Cas back into the dressing room. Clothes swung over the top of the door, Sam and Dean grabbing them as they appeared.
“That’s everything,” Castiel said after a minute. “Can I at least put my pants back on?”
“No,” was the stereo annoyed response. The Winchesters headed to the cash register, leaving the nearly naked angel standing awkwardly in a strange, small room, unsure of what to do with himself. A couple minutes later, the boys thankfully returned, tossing a bag over the door.
“What’s this?” Cas asked, inspecting the bag.
“Your new clothes,” Dean replied. “Toss us over the suit and put those on. The rest will go in the trunk, and we’ll burn the damn suit when we get out of town.” The angel started to protest, but Dean’s hand shot over the top of the door. “Give me the suit, Cas. It’s time to move on.” With a pout on his face that he was sure neither brother could see, the angel did as he was told. Dean’s hand snatched the old clothing away as soon as he felt it, adding gruffly, “And no pouting.”
“...I’m not pouting,” Cas replied with as much conviction as he could muster while lying, and pulled the jeans from the bag on. Dean just grunted an ‘uh-huh’ and let him finish dressing in relative silence.
When he emerged, Sam had to stifle yet another laugh, which earned him a stern glance from his older brother. The clothes Dean had chosen for Castiel were about as quintessentially Dean Winchester as it could get: a nondescript pair of jeans, tan work boots and a dark blue plaid button-down left unbuttoned over a t-shirt that was such a dark shade of brown, it was almost black. In what obviously was an unconscious mimicry of his charge’s style, the sleeves were yet again rolled up to the elbows. Even under his brother’s continuing glare, Sam couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What?” the angel asked this time, head tilted quizzically. “Is there something wrong with my outfit?” Dean just shook his head, giving his brother another disdainful look, and then smiled back at Castiel.
“He’s just being an idiot,” the older Winchester replied, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You look great.”
“Yeah, great,” Sam mirrored mirthfully, huge grin splitting his face as the trio picked up the other bags and headed out. “Absolutely classic.” Over his shoulder, Dean arched an eyebrow at his little brother, but dropped it and looked back to Cas, who was watching the brotherly interaction with equal parts interest and bemusement, and just shook his head.
“He’s just jealous of our stunning good looks,” Dean explained, with a smile adorning his lips that told of someone who was simultaneously joshing their siblings and being charmingly serious. They loaded the shopping bags into the backseat, nestled in the slim space around the brothers’ duffel bags and assorted possessions. After tossing the rumpled suit into the trunk, Cas eying it morosely, they slid into their customary positions within the car and got comfortable; as Dean checked his mirrors, he caught sight of his angel friend in the backseat, staring out the window into space, and smiled.
“You really look like one of us now,” the hunter commented with amusement, and perhaps a bit of pride, as he turned the engine of his baby over.
Castiel, catching his friend’s eyes in the rearview, smiled his barely-there smile and replied, “God help us all.”