Work Text:
Castiel sends him a text as they’re driving back to the bunker. It’s an emoji of a devil, all glowering cartoonish maliciousness, next to a pile of smiling poop. A beat later, he sends a disgruntled face, mouth drawn in a thin, angry line.
Cas:
[devil, poop]
Cas:
[disgruntled face]
Dean can’t help it. He snort-laughs and gets cold coffee up his nose. It’s incredibly uncomfortable and he almost pulls over just to try and clear his searing sinuses.
“Dude,” says Sam as he grabs for the wheel. “Put down your fucking phone, man.”
Dean bats Sam's hands away, texts Cas a smile, then sets his phone down on the seat again.
Dean:
[smile]
His phone buzzes. Sam picks it up before Dean can grab it with a muttered, “Oh my god, Dean.” He clears his throat. “Cas wants to know if we’re done with the case. And what it ended up being.”
“Tell him it was a psychic and a psycho mom.” As Sam types Dean muses, “Too bad there ain’t a Carrie emoji. You know. Shrieking person covered in blood? That would be perfect right now.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well. Since when do you even use emojis?” Sam tosses the phone down and wedges his body between the seat and car door, closing his eyes. The phone buzzes again. “You touch that and I swear I’ll throw it right out the window.”
Dean grabs the phone but slips it in his jacket pocket instead. “Whatever, man. We need gas, anyway. I’m gonna pull over.” He pulls into a service station and gets out to fill the tank. Sam opts to stay curled in a sullen ball in the front seat. Getting bashed in the head and tied up always brings out the grouch in him once the adrenaline fades.
Cas:
Cas: Everyone ok?
Dean settles against the sun warmed trunk and types:
Dean: We’re fine. Psychic teen ok, mom in jail, everyone else
[skull]
Cas: I’m sorry, Dean.
Dean:
[sad face]
Dean: That’s the job.
Cas: How is your mother?
Dean: OK! Still…
He types “gone,” then deletes it and types:
Dean: Still traveling.
Cas:
[burger, car, coffee, family, beach, sunset, fishing, bee]
Cas: How is there cake but no pie emoticon?
Dean: I KNOW
Dean: Thanks, Cas.
Dean slips the phone back into his pocket and hangs up the fuel nozzle before heading inside to pay and prowl the snack aisle. His phone buzzes again.
Mary:
[fire]
What? Dean freezes. He starts to type and then deletes it, wondering if he should just call her when his phone buzzes again.
Mary: Shit.
Mary: Sorry.
Mary: What are these pictures for?
Dean: Emojis, Mom.
(He still can’t believe he’s texting his mom .)
Dean: Another way to express
Dean pauses, not quite believing that he is actually going to type this.
Dean: feelings
Dean: And stuff.
Mary: Oh!
Dean grabs a bag of chips and a container of salted peanuts and brings them up to the cashier to pay. While he’s there, his phone buzzes again.
Cas: Truck is making an odd rattling. Problem or ok?
Dean rolls his eyes. An odd rattling. Could that be any more vague? He tucks his snacks under his arm and heads back outside. Sam looks like he’s actually asleep and the service station is quiet so Dean leans back against the Impala.
Dean: Dunno. Send me a photo. Maybe I can spot something.
While he waits a notification from Mary pops up.
Mary:
[heart]
Dean’s grin catches him completely by surprise but with nobody to see he lets it linger.
Cas: [photo attachment]
Dean:
Adrenaline shoots from his thumb all the way to his core. Shit. Did he just send Cas a heart? He toggles between the two text logs. Shit shit shit. He did.
Cas: Dean?
Cas: ???
Panic floods his brain, turning it into useless jelly. He should apologize, backpedal. Seconds stretch into one minute, then two. Dean stares at the phone like it has answers. He stares at it until his vision begins to swim. There are exactly three important people in his life right now and two of them are in the wind, on the road. So, fuck it.
Dean:
Dean waits with his phone in his hand and a strange ringing in his ears.
Cas: Can’t talk now. Crowley. But
Cas:
[two men holding hands]
Cas:
[cat with heart eyes]
Cas: ??
Dean releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He laughs shakily in disbelief and something that feels a little like exultation. Of course Cas sent him a fucking cat with heart eyes. He finds the cats and sends it back.
Dean:
Dean: Call you when we get home.
Dean: Be safe.
Cas: Of course, Dean. You too.
He takes a moment outside to calm his racing heart before sending his mom the heart she was due. There are still a few hours to go before they reach the bunker and Dean has a lot to think about. When they arrive he’ll shoo Sam inside to sleep and then sit out on the hill to call Cas. It’s a nice day and there’s an oak tree with wide, spreading branches he can settle under for a long conversation. Emojis are nice and sometimes they’re fucking great. But some things just need words and breath and joyful intonation.