mysteries. (deancas, season 9 future fic, pg-ish for violence) (ao3)
God knows, Dean says, sometimes. Castiel has heard him say it once or twice when the world was heavy on their shoulders, when everything was falling to pieces. God knows what we’re gonna do, how we can win this. God knows how. But mostly it marks inconsequential things, a verbal tic for incomprehension, missing knowledge: God knows where the next rest stop is, Dean will sigh, fumbling with a map, arguing with Sam over stopping for dinner, which tiny town will have a drive-thru that’s open late and serves the kind of food Sam prefers. Castiel listens from the back seat and doesn’t bother joining in. He is not overly picky when it comes to fast food. How strange it is, to him, that humans can forge their identities around the things they consume, what they wear on their backs- or their fronts- or by stylized images of animals that represent opposing teams. There are “burger king” people and other people who look down on burger king people and eat at a place called chipotle, after a pepper. It would be fascinating if there wasn’t an edge of malice to it, an undercurrent of us and them. But then again, Castiel understands. He is starting to be a five guys person. Sometimes he catches himself wondering, with some disdain, what would drive other people to eat the burgers at the Dairy Queen.