Characters: Dean, Castiel (Gen, Humor)
Summary: Funny how it's the mundane things that can really get you down…
Author's Notes: For fox1013's Gen Fic Battle. I picked the prompts of "Castiel" and "shave."
"What is this you are doing?"
Dean jumped, both at the sound of the voice and the sudden appearance in the mirror of Castiel standing behind him. "Jesus!"
"You are mistaken."
Of all the irritating— "Why do you just appear like that? And we talked about the bathroom thing once already!"
"The door was open."
So it was. Dean swallowed a sigh. He couldn't really complain, he supposed, not when the angel was finally getting a little smarter.
"There is something on your face."
Dean picked up the razor again. "What, you've never seen shaving cream before?"
"I thought humans did not wear their food."
That was new. "It's more like lotion. You put it on when you're going to shave. See? Watch." Dean stroked the razor in a smooth path down his cheek, and lifted it again for another pass.
Castiel suddenly leaned forward, as if he wanted a closer look, and—
"Ow!" Dean dropped the razor in the sink. "Personal space, Castiel!"
"Your body is leaking."
Dean grabbed a piece of toilet paper. "I know you're familiar with blood."
"Yes. But what is the purpose of inflicting injury upon oneself?"
"This is not how it usually goes." Dean scowled as he dabbed the cut and stuck a small piece of paper on to stop the bleeding. "And I usually don't have an audience, either."
"So bleeding is not the purpose."
The conversation was even more irritating than usual. Dean swiped his thumb over the edge of his jaw to clear away some of the shaving cream. "This is beard hair, and for humans it grows all the time. Well, for men anyway. Mostly. And guys who don't want beards, shave it off." He smoothed the nearby cream around to cover up the bare spot again. "Don't you shave? I mean, you don't have a beard. Though your skin isn't exactly smooth, either."
"This body does not change, now that I am in it."
"Oh." Well that was kind of a relief, Dean thought. At least, as far as the knife wounds he'd personally inflicted during their first meeting were concerned, anyway. "I don't suppose you cut your hair, either. Good thing you didn't pick Sam's body to inhabit."
"I do not understand."
"Never mind." Dean finished the left side of his face, and moved on to the right. "Did you come here just to ask me about human grooming habits, or was there something else?"
"Ten children will be born to ten fallen women in the coming weeks. It is a sign. It must be dealt with."
"What does this 'Uh' mean?"
Why the hell wasn't Sam here to handle this? "It means you'd better run that one by management again, because Sam and I… we don't go after humans."
"Oh." Castiel seemed puzzled by the answer. "That does not matter now. It is already done."
"While we were speaking. It has been taken care of."
Thank god—what a relief. He'd have to try stalling Castiel more often, if this was how things turned out.
"What is this metal object on the counter?"
Oh for crying out loud… "It's a fingernail clipper. I suppose you don't know what that's for, either."
"In fact, I do not. Please demonstrate."
Dean's jaw clenched, and he vowed to make Sam pay for abandoning him to the angel yet again. "Seriously, don't you have someplace else to be?"
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Guess what? There's another one now. :D