This is Our Design

Ritardando Part 1

ri·tar·dan·do

/ˌrētärˈdändō/

Music

adverb & adjective

adverb: ritardando; adjective: ritardando; adverb: ritard

1. (especially as a direction) with a gradual decrease of tempo.

noun

1. a gradual decrease in tempo.

This is dedicated to @Evangeleen74, who requested a Destiel fanfic. This chapter will be the first out of two or three, depending on how my week goes.

Also, this is an alternate universe where all of the drama after Alistair has stopped, as well as the apocalypse. Dean, Sam, and occasionally Castiel are still hunting crazy monsters and stuff. (I hope that made sense)

Enjoy!

"Hello Dean." With all of his time working alongside an angel and being familiar with his tricks, although enlightening, Dean has yet to be comfortable around his friend's behavior. A normal person, if they wanted to, could have actually called to check up on him. But Castiel, the weirdo he is, prefers to use other methods that always leave the hunter jumping out of his skin.

"Have you heard anything from Sam?" Dean covers up his flinch with a question, allowing his eyes to quickly glance toward Castiel before refocusing on the road again.

The angel is silent for a few moments before speaking, his tone prompting but his sentence emphasized. "Your brother was just on the phone with you, about one hour ago."

"No he...."

"...on my way to Oklahoma....A case in involving mirrors...need your help....Taff Motel...."

"Right." Dean loosens his grip on the steering wheel of his Impala, not realizing how tense he's gotten over the brief silence. He would be more concerned about the thought-stopping brain fart if Castiel's concerned gaze wasn't burning holes into his back. "Did you come to help out or something?"

"I have some downtime." Castiel relaxes into the passenger's seat. Humans are prone to memory loss, he's heard; this is his first time witnessing the action. "Where is your destination?"

"Uh, Taff Motel...Oklahoma. Sam said something about a case with mirrors." For some reason, only chunks of the overall picture can be recalled. Dean is certain that he and Sam have discussed this, face to face, details and all, but.... "Ugh, I'm too tired for this." He doesn't even remember where he's going, just that the car is moving--probably on the freeway--at nine P.M., feeling drunk as hell, and fueled with a sorry excuse for a Twinkie left half eaten and shoved in the glove compartment.

Oh yeah, and then there's Cas, who is currently sitting as stiff as a board in Dean's impala--without a seatbelt--and wearing that same old, constipated look he has goin' on pretty much all day long. Dean isn't sure if the reason is because the angel is always thinking (of what, he doesn't know) or if the vessel he uses is chronically constipated all day long. Or maybe Castiel doesn't have full range of facial expressions yet, so his body settles for a crinkle in his brow, dull blue eyes, and lips stretched into a thin line. Yeah, probably the latter.