Gulls N’ Roses

Dean gives Cas a rose & Cas sees it as a gesture of True Love ♡

☆

Dean supposed this ought to feel spooky. Anyone else would’ve found it spooky.

The tide was in, the dark grey sky rumbled with thunder, and the fairground at the end of the pier had been left deserted. Everyone who worked here had seen ghosts and scarpered.

It was… kinda nice, though? Dean kicked along with his hands in his pockets, a small smile on his face. The sea breeze was pleasantly warm, sweeping up from the south. Sure, it smelled briny, but Dean was a sucker for salted caramel, and there were definitely whiffs of caramel apples on the wind.

Maybe it just felt good ‘cause Cas was here. He had his hands in his coat pockets too, and a delicate little frown between his eyebrows. He looked carefully at the screeching seagulls perched on the roof of the ticket booth, then he looked at the arcade stand, where jaunty music still played, lights still flashing, Generic-Advertising-Man’s recorded voice blaring incoherently through the open doors. Particles of trash drifted past, flipped over by the breeze.

“Maybe the ghosts left,” Castiel said. He looked around a bit more, then looked at Dean.

“Guess so,” Dean said, carrying on his stroll. “Maybe Sammy’ll find some ectoplasm or some floating teddy-bear prizes, who knows.”

They passed a donut stall, which was making enough gurgling noises that Dean realised the fryer was still bubbling. Not haunted, just abandoned in a rush.

They passed a balloon stand with no balloons left. Just one sad, saggy metallic shape lying over the stand’s frame, which might once have been a pink elephant. A seagull perched on the stand made eye contact with Dean, then spread its massive grey wings and took off. Dean ducked as the thing swept two feet over his head.

They came to a flower seller’s stand, with white buckets lined up, staggered like theatre seats. The flowers in the buckets hung about without a care – sprays of orchids nestled right next to a conference of carnations and a tumbling of tulips, all different colours. But something drew Dean’s eye as they walked past, visually striking enough that he stopped in his tracks.

A bucket of perfect, red roses.

☆

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