Bring It On Home- A Destiel AU [COMPLETED]

Chapter 5

After emerging from the bathroom, Castiel studied the living room wall art for a considerable length of time. Then he picked up Dean's four coasters one by one and inspected them carefully.

Dean just watched him from his comfortable position on the sofa. "Castiel," he said, "has anyone ever told you that you're really freakin' weird?"

Castiel peered more closely at the coaster. "They're usually too polite." He chuckled. "But not you."

Dean frowned and sat up straighter. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Castiel set down the coaster on the coffee table and turned to him, a very concerned expression on his face. "Dean, please - tell me someone has introduced you to the work of Rene Magritte."

Dean squinted. "Ma-who?"

Castiel looked to the ceiling and shook his head in disappointment. "Travesty," he muttered.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temple, resting his other hand on his knee. "Look, it's been a really long night. Can you please go now?"

Castiel looked him up and down, his gaze judging and considering. "You've never slept with a prostitute, have you?"

"What the- I don't pay for sex," Dean retorted.

Castiel clicked his tongue. "One doesn't pay a whore for the sex, Dean. One pays her to leave the next morning. Which, to the casual observer, seems right up your alley. Given your lifestyle."

"My lifestyle?" Dean stood up in indignation.

"But you don't like prostitutes," Castiel continued, "so instead you're inclined to one-night stands. Your coasters make that clear." He glanced around the living room. "And yes, you can call me Cas."

"Well listen, Cas," Dean growled, stepping towards him, "I am going to brain you with your own damn meditation stone if you don't cut it out and leave."

And suddenly, Castiel grinned. "Excellent. I'm glad you like it."

"That's not what I said!" Dean snapped.

Castiel walked to the door. "I collect rocks. The one I gave you is a basalt river rock from the Andes. Its spiritual frequency tunes well with yours."

"Awesome, thank you, goodnight." Dean wearily waved his hands in 'let's go' circles towards the door.

Castiel opened the door, then stopped and looked back at Dean. "You can tell your brother I'm strange. I don't mind. But you should also tell him that we're friends now." And with that he was out the door.

.....

"The Andes," Sam said. "That's pretty cool."

Dean snorted. "If it's even true. And then he says to me, 'You can tell people I'm strange, that's okay. But also tell them that we're friends.' Seriously. And then he just leaves." He opened up a bag of chips. "Oh, and he seemed all offended that I'd never heard of some Renee 'Mah-greet' chick."

Sam laughed. "Magritte? Really? That's... actually pretty perfect."

Dean popped a few chips in his mouth and turned on the television. "Who the hell is she?"

"He, Dean," Sam corrected. "Surrealist painter. You know, 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe'?"

"Not a clue."

"You've seen some of his stuff, you just don't realize it. He painted the man in the bowler hat with the apple in front of his face, the naked woman who's becoming the sky... Google him. His stuff is all just... very odd and symbolic, usually pretty clever, realistic elements arranged in a nonsensical way."