Work Text:
"So, angels don't have, like, a childhood?" Dean asked.
That was the question that greeted Sam when he entered the kitchen after his third good night's sleep in a row. Must be a new record.
"No," Castiel answered, sitting on a high chair at the bar in the center of their kitchen, still in his sleepwear, his hand against his cheek while running his spoon through a half-empty bowl of soggy Cheerios and milk-soaked strawberries.
"None?"
"What's going on?" Sam asked, plopping himself down next to the former angel. Dean poured Sam a bowl and put it in front of him before reaching into the fridge and grabbing a cup of yogurt and the milk carton.
"Cas just told me that angels are just made to be dicks and don't have the opportunity to grow up like everything else."
"It's not that big of a deal, Dean," Castiel said.
"So then, come to think of it, you've always had that stick up your ass?"
Castiel choked on his food and Sam needed to thump him on the back a couple of times until he stopped coughing.
"I've never had an object of any kind inserted up my – what is your obsession with me and assess?"
"What my idiot of a brother means to say," Sam interjected while trying not to laugh, "is that you've always been sorta...really, really serious."
"Right," Dean said while smirking, "that."
Castiel nodded after that (both brothers knowing he still didn't totally understand) and continued eating his cereal.
Of course, Dean being Dean, he couldn't let it go. "So I take it angels don't have puberty then either?"
Castiel threw down his spoon and glared at Dean for a moment before stalking out of the room without another word.
Sam turned to his brother and shook his head. "Dean..."
Dean held up his hands in surrender and rolled his eyes. "I know. I'm going. I'm already gone."
Sam waited for the sound of footsteps to go away before returning to his breakfast, pouring the milk and quietly humming to himself.
Castiel was sitting on his bed and staring at the wall when Dean arrived and knocked on the door.
"Can I come in?"
"By all means," Castiel said, not looking at him, "this is your home after all."
Dean nodded and grabbed the chair that was in the corner, facing the back of it to Cas and straddling it. "I'm sorry about just now. It was just sort of..."
"Strange?"
Dean watched Castiel (who was still not looking at him) fiddle with a string of fabric on his blue comforter. "Yeah."
"It's all right Dean."
With a sigh, Dean continued to talk. "You know, Sam and me, we didn't really have much of a childhood either, come to think of it. It was always 'hunt here', 'train there' or 'sorry about missing Christmas again this year, sons and we're moving out again in the morning for the next nasty'. Not exactly Golden Book material."
"What is a Golden Book?"
"Little kid books. Not exactly Socrates or anything but that's...that's besides the point I'm trying to make here. Cas."
Castiel locked eyes with Dean and waited.
"I'm sorry man. Sorry if I upset you in some way."
"I understand."
"You - you understand?" Dean said while nodding.
"Yes, I understand."
Just to make sure he really was getting it and not just placating, Dean asked, "And what do you understand?"
"That none of us had any kind of relatable childhood compared to others. That we never had the opportunity to just be...young."
"Right. Okay then...as long as we’re clear."
Dean got up from the chair and put it back where it belonged. He took in the blank walls and the five pieces of furniture scattered about.
"We need to get you some stuff, Cas," Dean commented.
"I'm sorry?" Castiel asked, getting up.
"Your room," Dean said, motioning to the walls, "you've got nothing in here."
Dean waited and, yeah, there's the head tilt. "I have things."
"Well there are things and then there's...personality."
Sam chose that moment to walk by the room on his way to the shower when he couldn't help but poke his head inside.
"Personality?" he asked skeptically.
"Shut up, Sam. And you could use some more stuff in your room too."
"I like my room the way it is."
"Seriously?"
"Dean?"
"One minute, Cas - your room looks like you don't even live in it."
"Sam?"
"Just a sec - it's better that way."
"Why is it better?"
"Maybe I'm doing that because I'm waiting for the night we’ll to have to leave it again. Maybe I'm just not holding out on the hope that this time we're going to be living here, in one place and still hunting, for the rest of our lives. We haven’t exactly got a good track record for this sort of thing. We're not going to be here long, Dean so might as well not bother with the whole setting up a room thing."
“Well I did it. My room’s great!”
"Sam. Dean."
"What?" both brothers asked at the same time, turning to their friend whom they'd forgotten was still there.
"I would very much like to decorate my room if I am to be living in it for the time being."
"You sure, Cas?" Dean asked.
"Yes. May we go purchase things today?"
Dean looked to his brother and nodded. "Yeah. After showers and stuff, we'll go looking for some room...stuff."
"Thank you," Castiel said with a smile, "I would like that very much."
"Any time, Cas."
Castiel walked past the brothers and towards the main room leaving Sam and Dean by themselves.
"Dean, look..."
"No, Sam. I get it."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Growing up, we didn't really have a true home other than Dad and the Impala. I promise you man, we're not letting go of this bunker without a fight."
Sam sighed but agreed. "Okay, Dean."
Dean looked up to his brother and gave him a hard smack on the shoulder. "Good. Now get in the shower - and don't take all the hot water."
"Why? Cause you want it all for yourself? What about Cas?"
"I'd very much like some hot water too please," Castiel's voice floated through the void.
"Fine. Fine...babies."
"Never was a baby," Castiel called.
"Bitch."
Sam was just walking off when he could've sworn he heard their friend call back, "Ass."