dean and cas are procrastinating with research for a case and just happen to have google translate open, so dean decides to have a little fun with cas…
They were supposed to be researching for a case, but after sitting in the bunker for what felt like longer than only a few hours and hitting countless dead ends Dean and Cas (but mostly Dean) had become inattentive to the task at hand.
Some of the books that they had been looking through were in Latin and Dean, having felt lazy, had decided to open up google translate on his laptop to assist himself. Since the translator was so conveniently open already, Dean had thought that it would be amusing to test Cas’ knowledge set in regards to language. Cas had simply shrugged in agreement as he kept trying to research.
“Okay, how about this one?” Dean asked after typing something out. “Yo soy un ángel del Señor,” he said, trying his hardest not to butcher the language.
“Spanish. I am an angel of the lord,” Cas replied dryly. “That’s barely true anymore Dean,” he added as he flipped a page of the musty, leather bound book he was looking through.
“Aw, c'mon, Cas. Don’t sell yourself short,” Dean replied with a smirk as he turned his head to look at Cas sitting next to him.
Cas rolled his eyes a little, but there was a small smile on his lips at the compliment.
“Alright, that one was practically a giveaway, but I promise you this one’ll be more difficult,” Dean said with a smirk as he started to type something else up. "Dyn wwyntşʻstʻr pyynt mʼanggʼáwz,“ Dean finally said, after practicing the pronunciation a few times, with a smug smile.
This week has been all over the place, and whilst Amelia has tried her hardest to stay on the straight and narrow– okay she hasn’t really tried at all – but the blonde has ended up at one of the secluded pubs in Seattle. Sitting in a booth far away from anyone else, she has a glass of wine in front of her that she’s just staring at. So far no one has spoken to her, and that’s probably for the best– Amelia doesn’t know how she’ll react to people right now, she’s not exactly stable. Then again she’s never been stable, and she’s not exactly feeling her best either. She looks great on the outside, a face full of make up, and nice clothes. Yet underneath all the faces she feels like crying into her second glass of wine. She’s unaware of the people around her, and she’s sure that she probably knows someone here, but for now she was content to sit by herself.