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Charlie didn’t know what to expect when she threw a hastily loaded bag into the trunk of her Rabbit, called out of work for a family emergency, and set off for middle-of-nowhere Kansas. Sam hadn’t been overly descriptive on the phone, all she knew was that Castiel had reappeared back in the ring long enough to volunteer for a suicide mission, managed to survive and was now recovering in some motel.
Oh, and nobody had told Dean yet.
Holy Frak, the Winchesters were hopeless at meta. Any newbie to the Supernatural following could have told you that keeping things from Dean Winchester was a recipe for some serious fail.
But she’d sworn on her entire Harry Potter Limited Edition Wizard’s Collection box set not to spill the beans. She met Sam outside Lebanon, and felt totally badass as he handed over a sizeable wad of cash, a singularly unhelpful approximation of Castiel’s clothing size, and directions to the mysterious patient.
Three plus hours of freeway and an excellent movie score playlist later, she pulled off I-70 and followed the road until she hit a section of Iowa St lined with department stores. She saw a Wal-Mart sign up ahead but veered into the Super Target parking lot to her right.
Her bag pulled on her shoulder as she headed for the men’s department. Rifling through her mental files, she pulled up Sam’s vague description of the mysterious fallen angel she was supposed to be clothing. The books had detailed his outfit, but they were about as helpful as Sam in describing his stature.
I dunno. Shorter than I am. Normal size, I guess. He’s always wearing his overcoat and its not like I’m checking him out. Dean’s height, or maybe a bit shorter...?
Charlie had stared at him, an eyebrow raised.
Look, it doesn’t have to be perfect, just something that isn’t hospital scrubs.
Charlie had shaken her head, and reassured him it was no big. From the book descriptions, it seemed like Castiel had only ever worn his vessel’s clothing. Bummer about the loss of angel dry-cleaning. But she figured that if he’d just been released from the hospital - and she really had no clue what sort of shape that meant, he needed something comfortable.
Sweats. Definitely. The Winchesters may only own Levi’s and button ups but the rest of humanity liked to be comfortable. She stood in front of a rack of sweatpants, arguing internally on what size to get. If only she had been more involved in the costume-making aspect of role playing she might be better at this.
While she thumbed through the size Medium gray pants, there was a soft excuse me behind her, and she squeaked something inarticulate and scooted forward, hangers swivelling as she pushed into the clothing.
She glanced up to find a man making his way between the racks. She was about to dismiss him until she realized that hey, male. One who looked average (as far as she knew), and was clothes shopping.
Score.
She watched him as he moved between the low shelves and racks, trying to see what sizes he was considering.
He glanced over, and she looked away quickly. But once he was back to his task, slid over to a rack where she could observe his movements even if he wandered.
Unfortunately, she was not as smooth as she thought. The third time she caught his eye, she smiled awkwardly, and before training her eyes back on the soft t-shirts in front of her, caught him winking.
Oh. Ew. As if. But she could turn this to her advantage. She smiled back, and then turned to him, tucking her hair behind her ear, “I know this is like, totally random, but could you help me with something?”
The guy nodded and maneuvered over to her, “Yeah, sure, what do you need?”
“My brother just landed at the KCI, and all his luggage got left behind in...Canada, So I’m picking him up some to hold him over until it gets here,” she lied. “And anyway I don’t know what size he is and my phone is totally dead - but I think he’s built pretty similarly to you, soooo...would you mind helping me out?”
The guy’s face said that that had not been what he was expecting, but he smiled graciously and told her what size jeans, t-shirt, and jacket he was, as well as sending his best wishes for her brother’s stay.
Luckily he left after that because Charlie didn’t know how to flirt with guys convincingly without Dean Winchester in her ear.
She thumbed through the racks, got two pair of gray sweatpants, a few soft feeling t-shirts in plain grays and blues, a hoodie, socks and boxer shorts (using every amount of self-control she had not to buy the Avengers pack). She was about to head to the grocery section when she spotted the clearance racks, and several pairs of simple, dark wash bootcut jeans. She sorted through the unfamiliar sizing system until she found measurements that matched the closest to the ones from the stranger and put them in her cart.
Maybe he wouldn't need them right away, but Castiel would need some clothes. Especially if he wanted to leave the motel without looking like...well she didn’t know what he looked like in anything. Hadn’t ever actually seen him, and accurate descriptions weren’t exactly Carver Edlund’s strong point. For all she knew Castiel was the kind of guy who could rock the vlogger I-wear-cool-shirts-but-I-don’t-ever-wear-actual-pants look...
He’d helped save the world. Twice now, apparently. She may as well give the guy some options.
On the way to get basic kitchen fixings she got a pair of men’s slip-on shoes. Having no idea what size shoe he might be, she grabbed a pair of 10s. She could exchange them later if needed.
The food was easier. Food was food. Some sandwich supplies, fruit juice for vitamins, a few sweeter things and snack foods and she was off to checkout. She had Sam’s wad of cash in her bag, but slid her card instead.
Hey, he saved the world. This was no time to be stingy.
The directions from Sam took her to a skeevy little Super 8. The address of the motel room scribbled on a piece of paper led her to a worn door with a crooked 14. She steeled herself and knocked.
No one answered.
She felt like a complete noob as she stood there, wrinkling her nose at the discoloration on the walls. She knocked again. “Um, hello? Castiel?”
The response was muffled through the door, but she heard it just fine - a low, gruff, “How do you know that name?”
She relaxed, re-adjusting her bags. So Sam hadn’t warned Castiel that a strange girl was coming - no big. At least Castiel hadn’t run off. “Oh, good, you are here. I was worried I got the wrong room. Or Sam did, or that maybe a monster or something had gotten you, like if you got attacked,” she shook her head, “Not that I think you would, ‘cause you were pretty badass in the books--”
“Who are you?”
She sighed, relieved that he’d stopped her from standing in the hallway too much longer just rambling at a door.
“Right. I’m Charlie. Sam sent me with some clothes and money, and you know, a ride if you want one...?”
She bit her lip, glanced around again and leaned into the door, listening for movement, when the door opened just a crack. She started up, “Hi.” She smiled, trying to look trustworthy and relaxed but pretty sure she had that really stiff freaked out smile on. Oh well. She wasn’t really out to impress today. Ok that was a lie. She was really worried about impressing Castiel.
A blue eye squinted at her, “How do I know you are who you say?”
Wow, paranoid much? But then I guess kamikaze missions did that to a guy. She blinked a few times, “Well, I’m not a demon or a monster or anything. I’m friends with Sam and Dean. They saved my life a couple times,” she squinted, “but they kinda do that...I help them out now,” she said, feeling a swell of pride.
She really couldn't tell anyone else about the kind of hacking magic she did for the Winchesters, but she couldn’t deny that some of the things she’d done were definitely challenging and kept her authority issues well satisfied. “ I’m kinda a genius with the tech, so I do research, and hack a lot...” She shook her head slightly again, pulling herself back on mission. “I was in the area, and Sam wanted me to help you out until we tell Dean.”
Finally the door opened. Relief flooded her and she felt a smile spread over her face. The man didn’t look particularly thrilled to see her, but he did step back to allow her inside. He had a something clutched in his hand, ready to strike, and for a moment she felt vaguely offended. She was on the good side!
“Dude, were you going to attack me with a clicker?”
The expression on the man’s face was unreadable as he backed away and slumped onto the end of the bed, discarding the clicker. She passed him, putting the bags on the small table by the tv. Now that he had set down his weapon her she felt considerably brighter, and allowed herself an appraising moment.
He was, she supposed, of average build. But his face was nothing like the illustrations on the books. His whole aura was much more...she was going to go with human but that was why she was here in the first place. She hadn’t expected the wide cheekbones, drooping eyes and sharp nose. His lips were a veritable work of art and although the physical description hadn’t gone into detail, he was still - in a totally morose kind of way - dreamy.
Huh.
“So, I have to say. You’re different than I expected. One thing, no trench. Sad I missed that, it was so...Constantine. You should have seen the cover art. They don’t do you justice at all.”
He didn’t respond so she turned to her bags, pulling out the food and clothing.
“I hope these fit,” she stated, pulling a pair of boxer shorts, socks, sweatpants, t-shirt and hoodie together into a stack and handing them to him, “Sam didn’t really know your size, and ‘shorter than me’ doesn’t really help much, you know?” she worried her lip as he took the bundle and odd thoughts flew around, knocking into the sides of her head, what if he doesn’t like blue, or gray or what if it’s uncomfortable or has itchy tags or...
Castiel looked down at the bundle in his hands...still looking a bit lost.
“Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll get us some lunch?” Charlie asked, trying to sound confident, comforting. Nurturing wasn’t really her thing but she’d give it a go. When he didn’t move, she gestured towards the door “Bathroom’s over there, unless you were planning on stripping down out here,” she tittered nervously. For all she knew he would drop his scrubs where he stood and although she didn’t blame the guy it would be weird and this whole thing was weird - even for a Winchester affair.
He made some sort of offended noise and said gruffly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She watched as he walked stiffly to the bathroom, and once the door was closed, she sighed. This surly, silent and non-communicative ex-angel was not going to be easy, but if the boys loved him - if his relationship was so important to them - so important to Castiel that...well, they’d worry about Dean later. Right now she was here. And she was going to make some sandwiches.