"Okay, I'm gonna go get the postage stamp thingies for you before I forget," Dean says that afternoon. "I think the post office is still open. It's still kinda early-ish."
"Is it just going to be a quick in-and-out thing?" Castiel asks.
"Yeah, pretty much," Dean says. "Depends on how long the line is, but I'd say it'll probably take 15 minutes, max, and I'll be back." In a teasing voice, he adds, "If you think you can survive 15 minutes without me, of course."
Castiel rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dean, I'm sure I could survive 15 minutes without you. In fact, just because you said that, I'm not going to offer to come with you."
"Wait, were you really going to offer to come?" Dean asks.
Castiel nods. "Emphasis on 'were.'"
"What if I ask you to come?" Dean asks. "Would you still come with me?"
Castiel sighs dramatically, as if he wasn't going to ask anyway. "Fine, if I have to."
Dean grins. "Awesome! Come on!"
"Wait, hold up." Castiel sprints to their bedroom, digging through his single suitcase to find a pair of sunglasses. He clips them on his shirt and returns to Dean's side. "Okay, now I'm ready."
"Camouflage?" Dean guesses.
"Good call," Castiel replies. It's not entirely true — he would definitely like to hide from people who might recognize him, but he also just doesn't want anyone to see him and realize that he just looks like a mess. At least with the sunglasses, no one can see the dark purple circles under his eyes.
Dean takes Castiel's hand and leads him out of the house. Dean opens the car door for his fiancé, then hops in the driver's seat, and they're off.
"Not that I'm complaining," Dean says, "But why are you coming with me? I thought you wanted to hibernate for a while."
Castiel shrugs. "I don't know. I've been cooped up in there for ages. I'm getting bored. I figured a quick in-and-out trip to the post office wouldn't hurt."
"You're going to be just as bored at the post office, you know," Dean says. "It's not a very entertaining place."
"Neither is your house," Castiel says. "At least this way, I still get to talk to you."
"Touché," Dean says. "I'm all the entertainment anyone could ever need."
~~
As Dean buys the postage stamps, Castiel can't help but look around, eyes darting frantically around the room. He doesn't even know what he's looking for. Other than the two of them and the workers, the building is empty, and almost dead silent. If anything went wrong, it would be impossible not to know.
So what's he looking for? The blinking light of a movie-status time bomb? The red dot on a chest from a sniper rifle? It doesn't even make sense to be on the lookout for something like that. So why can't he calm down?
"Oh my god, it's Castiel and Dean!"
Castiel whips around at the sudden sound of voices, only to find a couple of teenager girls standing in the doorway. He quickly turns his attention back to the counter, looking up at Dean. He's almost done buying their stamps. He's almost done. He's almost —
"Are you really Castiel?" one of the girls asks, standing uncomfortably close to him.
Castiel risks a glance at her from the side of his sunglasses, and he notices a phone trained on his face. He should have stayed home. He really should have stayed home.
"Um..." What does he say? Can he pass it off like he isn't? Just say that he hears that a lot? Or is it too obvious that he is?
Dean takes Castiel's hand, quickly saying to the man at the counter, "Thank you, have a nice day," before practically pulling Castiel out of the post office, not that he needs any incentive to go. He keeps his head ducked, as if that will do anything to change the fact that he's already been recognized.
"Wait!" one of the girls calls after him, both following them.
"It's totally them," the other girl says.
Dean doesn't open Castiel's door for him this time, saving them both time as they hop in the impala. It's not until they're driving away that Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, letting go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Oh my god," Castiel mutters, burying his head in his hands.
"Hey, cheer up," Dean says, a happier tone to his voice. "Not only did we get your stamps, but you also got to experience a full-on getaway car scenario with me — except there was no designated driver sitting there waiting for us, but I guess we're just really bad criminals."
Castiel laughs halfheartedly at that.
"We'll be home in less than five minutes," Dean says. "I guarantee that after these five minutes are over, you're going to find this funny."
"Remind me not to leave the house again," Castiel mutters. Not until he stops freezing up at the idea of talking to people. Hell, maybe wait even longer; until he can go out in public without the paranoia creeping in, as if there's even a statistical possibility of him witnessing a second terrorist attack. God, he's a fucking wimp.
"Oh, hey, you still have to feed the cat again, don't you?" Dean says, changing the subject.
"Yeah, but I'm gonna wait another couple hours," Castiel says. He might as well try to feed her as close to twelve hours apart as possible.
"Good, because I don't want to be lonely," Dean tells him. "You're basically my only distraction so I stop thinking about how I have to go to work tomorrow."
"I can't believe you consider that 'work,'" Castiel says, a small smile on his face. It's basically just a hobby he gets paid for.
"You're right," Dean says. "It's worse than work. It's torture; pure torture that interrupts my wonderful long vacation."
Castiel scoffs, propping his head up against the window to look at the boy. "It can't be that bad. You get to see your friends again, at least."
"Yeah, but I don't get to see my fiancé, and I'd say I care a little bit more about you than them, don't ya think?" Dean says teasingly.
"Well, I can't argue with that," Castiel says.
They arrive at their house, and Dean quickly swings around to Castiel's side and open the door for him. Castiel chuckles and takes his hand, their fingers interlaced as they walk to the door.
"Castiel!"
He whips around at the sound of his name, and he can't help but stare when he sees the two girls from the post office sitting in a car outside the house.
"What the fuck?" Dean whispers.
He quickly unlocks the door and lets his fiancé in first, making sure to get him out of sight as quickly as possible. He slams the door shut behind him, oblivious to Castiel flinching at the noise, and locks it.
"My god, that's creepy," Dean says.
Castiel sighs. "I've had people wait outside my house before, just hoping I'd come out. I've had people sit outside my apartment when I was on tour or on vacation or something so they could ask for pictures or autographs. Those two, it's basically nothing."
"God, your life sounds depressing," Dean says. "At least you're hiding out here, so they're the only two who know where you are. It's just you, me, and the two stalkers now." He holds out the sheets of postage stamps and adds, "Well, and these things. That should last you a while, right?"
Castiel nods. "Definitely."
"So, what do we do now?" Dean asks. "I feel like there are too many limitations on what we can do."
"We're bound only by the limits of our imagination and the walls of the house," Castiel replies. "We could do anything. We could watch tv. We could play Just Dance. The possibilities are endless!"
"That all sounds incredibly boring," Dean deadpans.
"So, Just Dance it is?" Castiel asks teasingly.
Dean shrugs. "If we can hook the Xbox up, sure."
Castiel scoffs. "I really wasn't expecting you to go with that." With a grin, he adds, "But I'm not complaining."
"We should send a video to Lucifer to prove that we're actually using his gift," Dean says. "I think he'd be very proud."
"Hell yes."