Chapter Text
Cas had no idea what was going on.
Constantine had taken him to a store called 'hot Topical' (Tropical?) In the promise that they'd find more trenchcoats there.
He'd also mentioned something about 'Supernormal' and 'Misha Collins', yet Castiel had no idea what they were. (Some obscure spells maybe?).
In the store, Cas was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pentagrams and warding symbols that adorned shirts, bags, and almost every type of clothing he could see. The sigils would only be useful if placed on the floor or as a tattoo, so why would people wear them? It was wholly impractical. Even so, it was nice to see that humans had finally seemed to take divine protection into their own hands. After all, there were only so many hunters out there.
What was more surprising though, was the fact that the 'Hot Topical' seemed to sell clothing and equipment specifically designed like the stuff Cas owned. Along the back wall, several tan trenchcoats hung on rails in various sizes, and little model Impalas dangled on silver keychains on a revolving stand in the middle of the shop floor.
Spotting some mini figures in cuboid boxes in the stand next to him, Case examined the 'Pop Vinyl' figure. It was a plastic model of a man holding a knife suspiciously similar to the demon blade the Winchester's owned- in fact the figurine itself was strikingly similar to his very own Dean. The only difference, he noticed, was that the name printed on the bottom of the box read 'Jensen Ackles'.
Strange.
This threw Cas deep into thought about who this mysterious Jensen was. Maybe he had something to do with the 'Misha' John had mentioned earlier.
Suddenly, a soft weight pressed against his back and he spun to see Constantine holding two trenchcoats up against Cas' back with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Which one? You know your size better than I do." He mused, comparing each one to Cas.
Figuring he should actually take this seriously, since he'd probably be wearing this coat for the next 50 years or so, he tried each one on in the mirror.
When he finally picked the perfect trenchcoat (it was almost identical to his last one- so much for spending almost half an hour picking). He turned to see Constantine standing with his hands in the pockets of his own new overcoat, looking incredibly bored.
(Poor man, he must have been waiting for Cas to finish).
"Jesus, I never thought an angel could be so self-conscious", he grumbled.
As he reached forward to yank Cas out of the store, a voice rang out from behind them.
"OMG, I love your outfits! You must be huge fans of Supernormal!"
Having no idea what she was going on about, Cas looked sideways to Constantine for help, but he just smirked and turned back to the teen.
"Yeah, were huuuuge fans."
Cas was confused. Was John playing a trick on him?
Unaware of Cas' bewilderment, the girl spoke again, hands flapping with barely concealed excitement.
"I am soooo in love with that show, but mostly Misha, like have you even seen him? Like, he is so hot I could just eat him..."
She trailed off with a dreamy look on her face.
Cas was even more confused. He was hot, his trenchcoat was still smouldering. Had this 'Misha' been pelted with fireballs, too?
Oblivious to his confusion, the teen noticed their clothing situation.
Omg are you cosplaying, or LARPING? That smoking trenchcoat look is on point, you HAVE to tell me where you got it, oh wait, did you burn it yourself?! Man that is HARCORE fanboying!
"W-what, I-"
Ignoring Cas' stuttering She turned to Constantine.
"Wait, are you both dressed like Misha? It's a shame, you would be a great Sebastian Roche, with the accent and all."
Before, she could go any further, Constantine cut her off.
"Look lass, it's been nice meeting you, but we really have to be going now."
That would have seemed quite rude if it hadn't been for the wink he shot her way as he said it, making her blush furiously.
As they left the over-excited fangirl behind, Cas breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't wait to crash at Constantine's place for the night. The day, with its fireballs and Hot Tropicals, had left him thoroughly exhausted.
He thought about calling the Winchesters, maybe they'd know why some of the merchandise bore such a striking resemblance to their own stuff, but he figured that was a story for another time.
(Or another fic ;))