fandomweekly | [#011] Questions (Supernatural)

Theme Prompt: #011-Interview
b>Title: Questions
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: T/Swearing, brief mentions of sexual activity.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 999
Summary: Castiel keeps asking Meg questions. The reason is far beyond anything she ever considered.

“Meg, what is your favourite color?” Castiel asked one evening. They were in the library doing research for the Winchester's latest case.
Meg looked up from a particularly boring lore book. “Huh?”
“What is your favourite color?”
“What, are we in elementary school?”
His brow furrowed. “No. I think we're both too old for that.”
Meg sighed at his literalness and shook her head. “I like purple, red, and black.”
He smiled at her and returned to his own book with no explanation.

o.O.o

Meg was disturbed from her post-sex doze by Castiel grabbing her left hand. He pulled the ring she wore off and looked at it.
“Indulging in kleptomania now?” she asked.
“I am not stealing it, merely looking. You like rings?”
“Yeah.” She raised her right hand to show her other rings. “They're nice.”
“You enjoy nice things even though you're a demon.”
“I went through the whole 'everything must be terrible' stage to prove myself when I was new. Now, I like my comforts and pretty things.” She settled further under the blankets, enjoying the feeling of the cloth on her skin.
“And you prefer silver to gold?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Why?”
He smiled at her and offered no explanation.

o.O.o

“What is your favourite desert?” Cas asked Meg a week later. She was with the Winchesters in the library discussing an upcoming hunt.
“Why?”
“I wish to know. You do not need to eat, yet you indulge in sweets and junk food. Do you have a favourite?”
“You covered in whipped cream count?” she asked with a smirk.
“Okay,” Dean said, tossing down the knife he had been sharpening. “Really?”
“That has never happened so I fail to see how that can be your favourite,” Cas replied, confused.
“Hey, a girl can fantasize.” She shook her head and thought. “Chocolate. It's cliché, but I like chocolate, okay?”
Castiel nodded and returned to whatever he had been doing.

o.O.o

“Something's wrong with the angel,” Meg announced, walking into the kitchen. Dean was making an obscenely large sandwich, and Sam was looking through the fridge.
“What now?” Dean asked, taking a bite of his monstrosity.
“He keeps...asking weird questions. Do I enjoy balloons or think they're an environmental hazard? I sat through an hour long discussion on wine versus champagne.” She paused. “I think he's lost it again.”
Sam chuckled. “He's your boyfriend. Ever think maybe he just wants to know you better?”
“What's there to know? I'm pretty simple.”
Sam shrugged. “I'm not fluent in Cas analysis so...”
Meg crossed her arms and turned to Dean.
The hunter raised his eyebrows, chewing. “What?”
“He was your boyfriend first. What's going on?” When Dean didn't reply, just glared at her, she sighed. “Come on, help a demon out.”
Dean rolled his eyes and seemed ready to reply when his phone rang. He left the kitchen to answer it.
Sam puled a box of leftover Chinese out of the fridge and put it in the microwave. “Guess you'll just have to wait and see. Or, you know, ask Cas.”

o.O.o

A week later she returned to the bunker after spending some time catering to her demonic needs. The bunker was empty, but she felt angelic grace and knew Cas was home. She followed the feeling and found him in the kitchen. He was standing next to the table, where he had laid a red table cloth. There were black candles lit, and two bowls of some kind of dessert. Glasses of bubbly champagne were next to the bowls.
She burst out laughing. “Okay, Clarence, what did I say about watching romantic movies?”
He frowned. “You don't like it. I...it is all of your favourite things.”
“This is what that was about? A romantic dinner?”
He fidgeted. “I read that it is supposed to be special, so I tried...” He frowned and leaned over, blowing out the candles. “I'm sorry.”
He started to walk past her and she stopped him by grabbing his arm. “What is supposed to be special?”
“Never mind.”
“Stop. For the past month you've made me feel like I need a lawyer or something. So come on, spill.”
He hesitated again and she knew she'd really affected him. Reaching up, she draped her arms over his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm sorry I laughed, but you know me. I don't go for the sappy stuff.”
He nodded and she could feel him relaxing.
She moved her fingers up into his hair. “So what's been going through that mind of yours?”
“You...mean a lot to me, Meg. I am very fond of you.”
“Okay.”
“I have one more question to ask you. I hope that you will not find it...like an interrogation or too sappy.”
She lowered her arms and took a step back. “What?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. Opening it, he held it out to her.
Confused, she took it. Inside was a silver ring with a small amethyst on it.
“What the fuck is this?” she asked, shocked.
“I was hoping that you would consent to...marrying me? Although, it would not be like a human—“
“Shut up,” she replied, staring at the ring. “You're serious?”
“Very.”
“Demons don't marry.”
“Neither do angels, but...we are different.”
“Causes. Demons have causes.” she said, trying to make her brain work through the shock.
He smiled. “Then maybe this could be your cause?”

“Okay,” she finally replied, feeling more unsure than she had in years. Centuries. “Yes.”
“I am very glad.” He took the ring out and slipped it onto her finger. It looked pretty nice, she had to admit.
She studied it for a moment and then softly kissed him. “You get to tell the Winchesters. Alone.”