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If there’s one thing Dean Winchester would deny liking, it’s chick flicks. Sappy movies about girls and feelings and all that crap. Okay, not just chick flicks. Anything even remotely ‘Girly.’ Pink, pop music, romance novels, anything widely associated with girls, really.
But Dean Winchester is a liar.
He loves all that kind of stuff. But that's a secret he'll take to the grave(s).
—
Sam and Dean were out on a case in middle-of-nowhere, Indiana, hunting some kind of creature that had been leaving a trail of bodies in this weird, old small town.
Sam, being the responsible guy he is, was at the library looking for any sort of historical record or patterns that could clue the brothers in on what exactly they were supposed to be hunting. Any information that could tell them the creature’s habits and weaknesses.
Dean, however, was not doing anything productive towards the case. Instead, he was singing ABBA songs in the shitty motel bathroom while showering.
—
“Ahhahh, sometimes, when I’m lonely, I sit and think about him,” he sang. And quite loudly at that. “ And it hurts to remember all the good times !”
“When I thought I could never live without him.” Angeleyes had become one of Dean’s favorite songs as of late, if only because of the sudden angel now helping him out, gripping him tight and raising him from perdition or whatever.
“And I wonder does it have to be the same?” The hot water of the shower had already steamed up the only mirror in the room.
“Every time when I see him, will it bring back all the pain?” Dean’s voice grew louder as he approached the chorus of the song.
“Ah-ha-ha, how can I forget that name?”
“Look into his angel eyes,” he yell-sang, “One look and you’re hypnotized!”
—
The only warning of Castiel’s arrival was the soft fluttering of wings, which was entirely drowned out by not only the sound of the water running in the shower but also Dean Winchester singing his Kansas heart out.
“He’ll take your heart, and you must pay the–”
“Dean?”
There was a squeaking noise from the shower (Dean) and suddenly, the bathroom was silent, save for the running water.
“Ahem– Cas? What the fuck are you doing in here?!” Dean shouted angrily, clearly not used to being ‘caught.’
“I– You called for me,” Cas’ gravely voice responded, “You said angel, so here I am.”
“Oh. Is that how that works?”
“Yes. You call, and I come.”
“Heh, kinda like a pup– never mind. Anyways, I didn’t mean to summon you or anything, I was just…” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“Singing?” Cas filled in for him.
“Yeah. That.”
“ABBA?”
“Shut up.”
The bathroom was awfully silent for a while after that, Cas obeying Dean’s ‘order.’
Then Dean spoke again.
“Cas?”
“Yes?”
“Leave.”
Wings flapped, and Cas was gone. Hopefully, the angel would never mention this in passing conversation.
Dean would not be able to handle the embarrassment if he did.