Status: I don't know what this is.
What a Bargain!
Best Value
The ease at which the newly human Castiel falls into obsession is astounding. The time it takes him to go from ‘peaked interest’ to ‘full-on, bat-shit obsessed’ is mind-blowing and, quite frankly, a little scary. And, over the past few weeks, Dean has had a front-row view of the show.
To be fair, though, the shopping thing is entirely Dean’s fault. It starts with a grocery list, pinned to the front of the fridge, and a mechanical pencil pressed into Castiel’s soft hand. “If you need something, just add it to the list,” he says, but he never imagines Castiel would ‘need’ so much.
It takes a while for Castiel to get the hang of what’s acceptable as “Grocery List” items; things like warmth, fresh air, and grace regularly make the list. It’s not until an embarrassing moment* forces Dean to clarify, that more normal items - like cereal (but not the one that cuts the roof of my mouth, Dean) - start appearing. After that, it’s like Cas can’t stop coming up with things to add to the list and soon enough, Dean’s complaining about the refrigerator being almost completely covered in paper and how as soon as he leaves the house with one list, he comes back home to find that two more have taken it’s place and goddamnit, Cas! I’m not spending every hour making trips to the Shop n’ Go!
About the second time Cas and Dean get into a fight (if you can even call Dean screaming red-faced about 2% milk and Cas asking why he finds milk percentages so infuriating fighting), Sam suggests that Cas just goes along on the next trip and picks out whatever he needs all in one go. Dean’s not all for the idea - he’s not sure Castiel is ready for the big, bad world in his new, fragile form - but he’s also not willing to make small chat with the Shop n’ Go clerk for the fiftieth time, so he reluctantly agrees.
The next day, they’re sauntering slowly down the aisles of the supermarket (because Sam - who suspiciously opted to stay home on this trip - suggested they go down every aisle) when Castiel gives voice to a question that popped into his head about three aisles back.
“Dean,” he says, staring wide-eyed at a fathomless selection of tomato sauce. “Which one?”
Dean easily plucks a glass jar from the shelf and places it into the cart.
Cas watches Dean warily, eyes flickering from Dean to the tomato sauces and back. “Why that one?” he asks. “How did you know?”
Dean shrugs, makes a face like What, Cas? Who cares? The look Cas gives him, obviously he cares. “It’s the cheapest, man,” he answers. “You gotta go with the best value.”
Cas nods solemnly, like these are words of wisdom he must commit to memory. “Yes,” he says, eyes a-squint, “the best value.”
Slowly (painstakingly for Dean), they make their way through the store. Castiel picks up odd items, like tiny suction cups with metal hooks and grape flavored gelatin mix, and Dean tries to stock up on household staples like bottled water and those peppermint candies he likes to crack between his teeth. When they get to the ‘paper goods’ aisle, Dean hastily snatches up a couple of packages of toilet paper but is stopped by a warm hand on his arm and Castiel’s questioning eyes in front of his face.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his word heavy and weighted, “that is not the best value.”
Dean blinks twice, shakes his head and drops the toilet paper in the cart anyway. “It’s fine, Cas.”
“No, Dean!” Cas (almost) yells, “We have to get the best deal.” He quickly plucks the offending item out of the cart and places it back in it’s spot on the shelf. “There’s only six rolls in that package and, look, this one with eight is the same price!”
Dean shifts on his feet. “Okay. Grab a couple and lets go.”
Cas reaches for it but then spots another. “Oh. But this one is also eight rolls...and is it bigger? Dean,” he says, tugging the sleeves of Dean’s jacket, “do these rolls look bigger to you?” He holds up the package and examines the words on it, “What is ply?”
Two hours later, they leave the Shop n’ Go with a 48-pack of on-sale Charmin (just 1-ply), a very disgruntled Dean, and Castiel still wondering if, perhaps, the 2-ply would have been better. Twice the ply, twice the deal, right?
To be fair, though, the shopping thing is entirely Dean’s fault. It starts with a grocery list, pinned to the front of the fridge, and a mechanical pencil pressed into Castiel’s soft hand. “If you need something, just add it to the list,” he says, but he never imagines Castiel would ‘need’ so much.
It takes a while for Castiel to get the hang of what’s acceptable as “Grocery List” items; things like warmth, fresh air, and grace regularly make the list. It’s not until an embarrassing moment* forces Dean to clarify, that more normal items - like cereal (but not the one that cuts the roof of my mouth, Dean) - start appearing. After that, it’s like Cas can’t stop coming up with things to add to the list and soon enough, Dean’s complaining about the refrigerator being almost completely covered in paper and how as soon as he leaves the house with one list, he comes back home to find that two more have taken it’s place and goddamnit, Cas! I’m not spending every hour making trips to the Shop n’ Go!
About the second time Cas and Dean get into a fight (if you can even call Dean screaming red-faced about 2% milk and Cas asking why he finds milk percentages so infuriating fighting), Sam suggests that Cas just goes along on the next trip and picks out whatever he needs all in one go. Dean’s not all for the idea - he’s not sure Castiel is ready for the big, bad world in his new, fragile form - but he’s also not willing to make small chat with the Shop n’ Go clerk for the fiftieth time, so he reluctantly agrees.
The next day, they’re sauntering slowly down the aisles of the supermarket (because Sam - who suspiciously opted to stay home on this trip - suggested they go down every aisle) when Castiel gives voice to a question that popped into his head about three aisles back.
“Dean,” he says, staring wide-eyed at a fathomless selection of tomato sauce. “Which one?”
Dean easily plucks a glass jar from the shelf and places it into the cart.
Cas watches Dean warily, eyes flickering from Dean to the tomato sauces and back. “Why that one?” he asks. “How did you know?”
Dean shrugs, makes a face like What, Cas? Who cares? The look Cas gives him, obviously he cares. “It’s the cheapest, man,” he answers. “You gotta go with the best value.”
Cas nods solemnly, like these are words of wisdom he must commit to memory. “Yes,” he says, eyes a-squint, “the best value.”
Slowly (painstakingly for Dean), they make their way through the store. Castiel picks up odd items, like tiny suction cups with metal hooks and grape flavored gelatin mix, and Dean tries to stock up on household staples like bottled water and those peppermint candies he likes to crack between his teeth. When they get to the ‘paper goods’ aisle, Dean hastily snatches up a couple of packages of toilet paper but is stopped by a warm hand on his arm and Castiel’s questioning eyes in front of his face.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his word heavy and weighted, “that is not the best value.”
Dean blinks twice, shakes his head and drops the toilet paper in the cart anyway. “It’s fine, Cas.”
“No, Dean!” Cas (almost) yells, “We have to get the best deal.” He quickly plucks the offending item out of the cart and places it back in it’s spot on the shelf. “There’s only six rolls in that package and, look, this one with eight is the same price!”
Dean shifts on his feet. “Okay. Grab a couple and lets go.”
Cas reaches for it but then spots another. “Oh. But this one is also eight rolls...and is it bigger? Dean,” he says, tugging the sleeves of Dean’s jacket, “do these rolls look bigger to you?” He holds up the package and examines the words on it, “What is ply?”
Two hours later, they leave the Shop n’ Go with a 48-pack of on-sale Charmin (just 1-ply), a very disgruntled Dean, and Castiel still wondering if, perhaps, the 2-ply would have been better. Twice the ply, twice the deal, right?
♠ ♠ ♠
* The Winchesters return to the bunker after a three day hunt to find Dean added to the list in Cas’ terrible scrawl.