Nerds of a feather{REQUESTS OPEN}

Phone Calls

Cas stood in the grimy motel room that has been re-papered with clues as to where metatron or other angels might be. He held his cell phone to his ear as Sam spoke on the other end, connecting the dots of their current case over the phone.

As Sam continued to speak castiel wandered over to a small wood paneled fridge as he saw the words "Honor Bar" typed on a sheet of laminated paper that was taped the the box. Confused he interrupted the silence on the line with an inquiry

"What is honorable about a miniature bar in a motel room?"

"Everything" he heard deans distinct growl over the line. Cas smiled at the thought of Dean sitting at the large mapped table in the bunker leaning over a phone.

"How are you Dean?" All he needed was for Dean to be ok. That was all he hopes for now that he couldn't protect this human he had grown so deeply bonded to.

"I'm fine Cas how about you?" Deans voice broke into Cas's train of thought. He observed his surroundings for a moment before he gave an answer.

"I miss my wings." Like that even came close to how vulnerable he felt without them. "Life on the road... Smells" perhaps that was not the right expression as he heard a chuckle at the other end. He smiled again, even if he hadn't meant to maybe he had made Dean smile that sexy little half-grin he made when he found something mildly amusing.

After finishing up his call cas dropped the phone onto the hard mattered of the bed in the room and went back to studying his clues. Silently wishing Dean was sitting at the honor bar having a beer.

      ~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~
After Dean hung up the phone he felt a little bit better about things. It seemed like cas was doing ok with all of this and he had even been able to give Dean something to laugh about.

Sam went off to do whatever moose-y things he did in his spare time. Probably watch documentaries about geese or something weird like that. Dean went to the kitchen and exited with a drink, as he sat down in the library with a beer in his hand he couldn't help but wish that sitting at one of chairs there would be a dark haired angel flipping through a dusty old book. He sighed a bit and wished that they had more time for that phone call.