zombic_thoughts: Shovel
Bored!Dean with Uriel since I'm so not going to try to tackle Ur, right? Right? for a_specialist. For this set of prompts. Obviously, before 4x16. Possible general spoilers for S4; language.
Dean was shoveling dirt.
That is to say, he was digging up a grave. No rush to it, not tonight. Sam had managed to trap the ghost in a salt circle and was over there asking a few questions for their journals and such, there were a few twists worth exploring - if the ghost would talk, of course. Dean had time, so he wasn't rushing it. Sam hadn't called him yet to say it was time to burn. So the dirt was coming out of the growing hole ... idly.
"Where's you brother?"
Dean's head snapped up to the dark shape standing above him, the white of his eyes catching the little light available by contrast. Dean shone his flashlight at the face anyway, just to make sure.
"Junkless. What're you doin' here?"
"I thought you were bored. Decided to keep you some... company."
"Yeah? You know, I'd actually rather be bored."
"Mind your tongue."
"Yeah, when do I ever? What do you want?"
"To talk."
"What for? Threaten my brother again? Get me 'off my high horse' or whatever? And before you ask, my brother's doin' the other half of this job that I am. And I trust him that it's what he's doing, so shut up about it."
"You trust him way more than you should."
"Whatever."
"It's a dangerous thing, and if you cannot handle him--"
That's about how far he got before Dean swung his shovel and hit the figure above him across the knees. Angel or not, the heavy body crushed to the ground, even if Uriel rolled up quickly to his feet, making the half-step to make to jump down into the hole.
"Like I said, I'd rather be bored."
"You dare--"
"Yeah. Go bother somebody else."
"I'll be back, you miserable--"
"Oh don't go away mad, just go away!"
Flutter of wings, eyeroll. More shoveled dirt. "Fucking angels."
Dean was shoveling dirt.
That is to say, he was digging up a grave. No rush to it, not tonight. Sam had managed to trap the ghost in a salt circle and was over there asking a few questions for their journals and such, there were a few twists worth exploring - if the ghost would talk, of course. Dean had time, so he wasn't rushing it. Sam hadn't called him yet to say it was time to burn. So the dirt was coming out of the growing hole ... idly.
"Where's you brother?"
Dean's head snapped up to the dark shape standing above him, the white of his eyes catching the little light available by contrast. Dean shone his flashlight at the face anyway, just to make sure.
"Junkless. What're you doin' here?"
"I thought you were bored. Decided to keep you some... company."
"Yeah? You know, I'd actually rather be bored."
"Mind your tongue."
"Yeah, when do I ever? What do you want?"
"To talk."
"What for? Threaten my brother again? Get me 'off my high horse' or whatever? And before you ask, my brother's doin' the other half of this job that I am. And I trust him that it's what he's doing, so shut up about it."
"You trust him way more than you should."
"Whatever."
"It's a dangerous thing, and if you cannot handle him--"
That's about how far he got before Dean swung his shovel and hit the figure above him across the knees. Angel or not, the heavy body crushed to the ground, even if Uriel rolled up quickly to his feet, making the half-step to make to jump down into the hole.
"Like I said, I'd rather be bored."
"You dare--"
"Yeah. Go bother somebody else."
"I'll be back, you miserable--"
"Oh don't go away mad, just go away!"
Flutter of wings, eyeroll. More shoveled dirt. "Fucking angels."