When Sam opens his eyes again, he is being propped against the headboard again, but it’s not the same – this one is brass bars, covered in pillows. He looks up and notices that the ceiling is that crappy white particle board, and not a popcorn ceiling. How the hell did they get to another motel? He lets his gaze focus, and sees Castiel approaching him with what appears to be a bowl of freshly microwaved oatmeal in his hands.
“Dean is doing laundry. I am to tell you that you are in… Deep shit,” he draws out the phrase and accompanies it with a slight lift of his eyebrows, and Sam doesn’t know whether he should laugh or be confounded by this, “for not telling him to pull over. And you should also know that I, too, do not make airplane noises,” Castiel finishes this by pushing a spoonful of oatmeal towards Sam’s mouth. The pain was ebbing now, almost gone… And the angel was still speaking in his flat, winding gravel road of a voice, “Nor will I imitate a choo-choo train.”
FILLED: Nor Will I Imitate A Choo-Choo Train 10/10
“Dean is doing laundry. I am to tell you that you are in… Deep shit,” he draws out the phrase and accompanies it with a slight lift of his eyebrows, and Sam doesn’t know whether he should laugh or be confounded by this, “for not telling him to pull over. And you should also know that I, too, do not make airplane noises,” Castiel finishes this by pushing a spoonful of oatmeal towards Sam’s mouth. The pain was ebbing now, almost gone… And the angel was still speaking in his flat, winding gravel road of a voice, “Nor will I imitate a choo-choo train.”