"Yes?" Cas answers, and Dean and Sam exchange looks. "Iowa. Yes." Cas frowns. "What happened?" Then Cas rolls his eyes.
Dean gestures at the angel, and his expression reads, What the hell?
Sam shrugs. Don't ask me.
"I told you, I don't have a harp," Cas sighs. "Why do you keep-- No, you said that. Yes. Yes. No. Goodbye." Then he looks up at the Winchesters. "Are we done here?"
"You tell me," Dean says. "Who the hell was that?"
"A friend." Cas hesitates. "Of a friend." His eyes flick over to Sam. "Do you still need help with the sigils?"
"I think I'm good--" says Sam.
"Good."
"I hate it when he does that," Sam says, when it's just the two of them in the room.
"Who the hell just called him?" Dean demands.
+
Mulder goes into the kitchen to grab another beer, then stops in the doorway because there's an angel standing in front of his fridge.
"I wasn't expecting any gentleman callers," he says. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Clarence?"
"Castiel."
Mulder gestures to move away from the fridge, and Castiel takes two steps to his left. "Scully okay?" Mulder asks, taking his beer.
"Yes. She's asleep."
"She told you what happened?"
"Yes."
Mulder twists off the cap. "You know, I don't get you, Cas."
"What's there to get."
"You're a fucking angel. You're supposed to take care of people. You're supposed to take care of her."
Castiel hesitates. "I do my best."
"Why are you here?"
"She asked me to come. To check on you."
"Okay, you've checked on me."
"She worries about you, Fox."
"Don't you tell me what she worries about. And don't call me Fox. It's extra creepy coming from you."
"Don't call me Clarence," he replies, too calm for Mulder's liking. Then: "It wasn't your fault."
"And don't tell me what is and isn't my fault," Mulder snaps, and they just glare at each other, or Mulder glares at him, and Castiel's gaze is cool and unimpressed. Both are unrelenting.
Finally, Castiel says, "She was right about you."
"Yeah? How's that?"
Then, of all the things to happen, a cellphone buzzes with a text message.
"It kills me, you and that phone," Mulder says, when Castiel checks his messages. "It's like seeing a Hell's Angel ride a moped."
Castiel looks up, frowning. "What did you say?"
Mulder just drinks his beer and saunters back to the living room. He hears a rustling behind him and feels the gust of wind, and he doesn't turn around to see if Castiel's gone.
IT'S JUST SAM, MULDER.
"Yes?" Cas answers, and Dean and Sam exchange looks. "Iowa. Yes." Cas frowns. "What happened?" Then Cas rolls his eyes.
Dean gestures at the angel, and his expression reads, What the hell?
Sam shrugs. Don't ask me.
"I told you, I don't have a harp," Cas sighs. "Why do you keep-- No, you said that. Yes. Yes. No. Goodbye." Then he looks up at the Winchesters. "Are we done here?"
"You tell me," Dean says. "Who the hell was that?"
"A friend." Cas hesitates. "Of a friend." His eyes flick over to Sam. "Do you still need help with the sigils?"
"I think I'm good--" says Sam.
"Good."
"I hate it when he does that," Sam says, when it's just the two of them in the room.
"Who the hell just called him?" Dean demands.
+
Mulder goes into the kitchen to grab another beer, then stops in the doorway because there's an angel standing in front of his fridge.
"I wasn't expecting any gentleman callers," he says. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Clarence?"
"Castiel."
Mulder gestures to move away from the fridge, and Castiel takes two steps to his left. "Scully okay?" Mulder asks, taking his beer.
"Yes. She's asleep."
"She told you what happened?"
"Yes."
Mulder twists off the cap. "You know, I don't get you, Cas."
"What's there to get."
"You're a fucking angel. You're supposed to take care of people. You're supposed to take care of her."
Castiel hesitates. "I do my best."
"Why are you here?"
"She asked me to come. To check on you."
"Okay, you've checked on me."
"She worries about you, Fox."
"Don't you tell me what she worries about. And don't call me Fox. It's extra creepy coming from you."
"Don't call me Clarence," he replies, too calm for Mulder's liking. Then: "It wasn't your fault."
"And don't tell me what is and isn't my fault," Mulder snaps, and they just glare at each other, or Mulder glares at him, and Castiel's gaze is cool and unimpressed. Both are unrelenting.
Finally, Castiel says, "She was right about you."
"Yeah? How's that?"
Then, of all the things to happen, a cellphone buzzes with a text message.
"It kills me, you and that phone," Mulder says, when Castiel checks his messages. "It's like seeing a Hell's Angel ride a moped."
Castiel looks up, frowning. "What did you say?"
Mulder just drinks his beer and saunters back to the living room. He hears a rustling behind him and feels the gust of wind, and he doesn't turn around to see if Castiel's gone.