The Destiel Show

Skit #1 - Shopping, The Bane of Castiel's existence

It was a hot evening in Mississipi and thoughts of exorcising demons back to the fiery pit wasn't exactly helping matters as the brothers and their personal guardian angel, Castiel, sat around researching the chupacabra.

With a final huff of surrender, Dean slammed the thick tome down onto the dusty motel table.

"I've had it," he announced.

Castiel looked up, confused. Sam ignored him, bobbing his head in time to the Tupac beats on his bulky Discman while his nimble fingers navigated the web.

"I wanna go shopping," pouted Dean.

"Come again?"

"I want to go shopping," Dean repeated slowly, as if speaking to a hearing-impaired three year old and not an Angel who had been around back when he was still in diapers.

"Why do you want to go shopping?" Castiel asked, still utterly fascinated by Dean even after their four months of official couple status.

"Why don't you wanna go shopping?" Dean challenged.

"I didn't say I didn't want to go shopping."

"So why are you asking me if I wanna go shopping?"

"I just want to know if there's a particular reason you want to go."

"Well, that's pointless."

"Why's that?" Castiel cocked his head to one side in genuine interest of what made Dean's convoluted mind tick.

"'Cause you're asking for a reason why I wanna go shopping which implies you have a reason not to go or be slightly opposed to the idea yet you reject the possibility of you wanting not to go which could only mean you wanna go or tolerate the idea yet you still request a reason stubbornly."

Castiel gaped back, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape. His brain scrambled to make sense of any of it.

"Wha- huh?"

"I'll go get my jacket!" squealed Dean.

*Cue singing of Girls just wanna have Fun by Cyndi Lauper*

"Okay, cas, I'm rea- What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Castiel climbed up from the driver's seat, switching off the ignition. "Going shopping? Isn't that what you wanted, Dean?"

Before Dean could properly put his feelings into words, Sam loomed behind me, tall as ever and laughing like he was watching a Little Britain marathon.

"Now, Cas, I know you didn't try to get all up Dean's ride like dat. Dat's some wack shit, man. Word."

Dean's jaw tightened and, without looking at his brother, he said: "Take it way down, Sammy."

"Right. Gotcha!" Sam grinned, giving him the 'peace out' sign.

"Is there a problem, Dean?" Castiel asked, his chocolate eyes wide and doe-like.

"Problem? Problem? Yes, Cas, there is a problem. You are in the Impala. That's THE Impala, Cas. Otherwise known as THE metallicar to rabid fangirls. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!"

"..." Castiel shook his head 'no'.

"Now, I'm a gentle, God-fearing man, Castiel; you know that, don't you?"

Castiel didn't answer.

"But. You. Never. Mess. With. My. Car. No driving it, no touching it, no LOOKING at it without my express written permission. Understood?"

"But...what if I wanna go somewhere? Castiel asked, carefully storing away this information about Dean for future use,

Dean stared back at him in disbelief. "What kind of angel are you, anyway? Can't you, I don't know, fly or something?"

Castiel looked down at his worn Reebok sneakers. "I...I never learnt how. It's tr-true! I- I tried once and fell an-and-"

His lower lip pulled down into a quivering pout. "- and that's why my parents never hugged me!"

"Not once?"

Castiel shook his head solemnly.

"Dude, that's, like, sick. And not even sick like dope, man, just sad," Sam exclaimed, playing with the overgrown sleeves of his G-Unit hoodiee.

Dean nodded slowly. "Well, I don't care if you can't fly, Cas. I never learnt how either!"
Castiel brightened. "You didn't?"

"Nope," grinned Dean. "Now, come on - retail therapy's just what you need!"

Once they were inside the car, Castiel sitting shotgun, Dean let him choose the music.

"Hey!" Sam protested. "Yo, that ain't cool! When I was all 'let's jam to some Dr. Dre, homies', you were all 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole' and I was all-"

"Sam, shut up," sighed Dean.

"No, that's what you said AFTER."

"REO," Castiel chose happily. "They're my FAAAAVEEEE!!!"

*Cue singing of This Heart Attack by Faker*

Dean raised his brows but kept his mouth shut, suffering silently. "Well, we both knew this relationship would have some hiccups."

They arrived at the crowded shopping centre as the merciless, blazing sun was setting.

Sam went over to 'keep it real' with his 'homies' over at the CD store whilst Dean tried on clothes at Hot Topic.

"What do you think, Cas?" he asked for the umpteenth time that trip. "Does it make my butt look big?'

"You look wonderful," Castiel smiled tiredly.

"You look tired," Dean pouted, "Here."

He tossed him his phone and Castiel stared at it as if it were an alien object then looked back up at Dean with questioning eyes.

"What, don't you have cellphones up there?"

"No, Dean - it's all a series of cans and string 'up there'. I used a top-of-the-line empty can of baked beans myself."

"...was that sarcasm?" enquired Dean.

"Yes."

"Yeah...never do that again, do you hear me?'

"Loud and clear, Dean," Castiel sighed.

"Good. Anyway, the phone is for you to take pictures of the types of clothes you'd like on me. Of the people inside the mall, I mean."

"Oh...kay?"

"Now, go. I must ask that salesman about that two for one deal they're having."

Castiel took the phone, attempting to figure out how Dean expected him to take pictures on this too-small, too-flashy gizmo.

*Cue singing of Photograph by Nickelback*

He returned a few minutes later with only about seven (badly taken) pictures and a bruise on his cheek from where someone had slapped him for trying to take a picture of their jeans.

"Hey! Cas!" Dean waved him over. "Watcha got?"

Castiel handed him the tiny silver contraption, glad to be rid of it.

Dean nodded every now and then at the pictures but his breath stopped short when he got to one of the pictures. A cute blonde girl in a blood red leather mini jacket.

"What's this, Cas?" Dean asked, looking wounded. "A girl? Huh? You whore."

"I like the jacket," Castiel smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean anything by it, Dean, I- I swear."

"Of course you didn't," sniffed Dean.

Castiel cudgeled his brains to come up with something to say. Before he could, he was being called.

"Not now..." he hissed at the department store's ceiling.

"What?" Dean demanded, though he already knew.

"Uriel...needs me." Castiel laid his hands out in front of him as if in surrender.

"No, no - it's fine," Dean turned dramatically. "You go home to your wifey, 'Uriel'."

He said the word 'Uriel' with a nasty, childish inflection.

"Ugh...Bu- I- Dean!" Castiel argued, reaching for loose threads.

"Go," cried Dean.

"Drama queen."

"What did you say?"

"That feather boa looks really manly on you, Dean!"

*Cue singing of Ur So Gay by Katy Perry*

END OF SKIT #1!!! =D