Northbound Countdown 1/10 (Dean/Misha, Dean/Cas)
Title: Northbound Countdown 1/10 (a/k/a 3.2.2009, 10 Days until SPN returns from break.)
Author: Nikki Loza (a/k/a calcium_yeah )
Disclaimer: A collection of people own Supernatural and its characters. Misha owns himself. I own nothing.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural/RPS
Genre/ Pairing: Slash. Dean/Misha. Contemplation of Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: Takes place post-4x11 Sex and Violence.
Warnings: WIP written live over 10 days, so you may wish to wait until the end if you would like the full, edited version. Thoughts of angel!porn.
Notes: This is AU in the sense that Jensen, Misha, Jared etc. do not work on “Supernatural”, but rather as voiceover artists on a popular cartoon so they’re not as recognizable to the general public; I didn’t want to address Misha playing Castiel and Jensen playing Dean in this fic so Misha has never heard of the Winchesters, but Dean definitely recognizes Misha’s face as Castiel. Also, Misha’s single and has a home near Boston, while Jen and Jared are friends who live together in Vancouver.
X-Posted to deancastiel and sn_slash.
Just posted to sn_slash now, sorry for any confusion.
Summary: Dean meets Misha and, thinking he’s found Castiel’s vessel, worries about what’s happened to our favorite angel. 10 day Dean/Misha countdown to Supernatural's return from winter break.
“Jen?”
It was in a drugstore in a suburban town just north of Boston that Dean heard and recognized the angel’s voice-or at least the voice that he used when he didn’t want to perforate Dean’s eardrums.
Dean had been contemplating two of the cotton ski caps in a nearby bin as they were on sale for five dollars, but the darkest they had was navy blue or forest green bordered with snowflakes and he didn’t look forward to walking around with Sam looking like a couple of five year olds going out to play in the snow.
He was turning one of the blue hats in his hand, trying to determine if it would be passable turned inside out; he held the hat in mid-air as he turned to see the angel at the end of the aisle and immediately got the impression that something wasn’t right.
It should have been the clothing that Dean noticed first-no trench coat, no tie, just a black wool over coat and what looked to be a sweater underneath. He even had a hunter’s cap with earflaps and Dean credited the weather, credited being so used to people in hats and scarves, credited his own recent ghostly-assisted bout with frostbite with his failure to notice something so obvious on sight.
What Dean actually noticed first was the smile.
It’s not something he let himself think about a lot, and it’s definitely not something he’d as much as mentioned to Sam, but he felt like he and Castiel were getting to a decent place-like they had a bit of an understanding when it came to each other. Yet even with that understanding, Cas had never looked as happy to see him as this person before him currently did.
As this person who could not be Cas walked his way, Dean finally noticed the clothing, the copy of Architectural Digest in his hand and the fact that he’d said the name “Jen,” which made Dean want to glance down the other end of the aisle to make sure this wasn’t just some guy who kind of looked like Castiel’s vessel on his way to speak with some woman standing behind him. He was still a hunter though, and he wasn’t about to take his eyes off of someone who (or something that) was fastly approaching while looking like Cas on a morphine drip.
“I didn’t know you were going to be out this way.” Happy!Cas stopped about two feet away from Dean and grinned at him. Dean felt his stomach flip at the sight of such unbridled joy directed his way and he was silently greatful that he wasn’t dealing with Castiel’s usual lack of respect for personal space.
“Shheyeah.” Dean chuckled awkwardly, trying to get a handle on the best way to approach the current situation. “So, running into you…’s weird.” Dean could feel the strain on his face and knew that his expression was caught between a smile and being freaked out-he realized he probably looked insane and made a deliberate effort to smooth his face into the calm expression he used when he was pretending to be FBI.
“Why didn’t you mention you were gonna be out here? You could’ve crashed at my place-I go through all the trouble of building a house and filling it up with furniture and now everyone I know is across the country and they never get to see it.” His eyes drifted midsentence and caught onto the snowflake covered cap in Dean’s hand.
“Kind of last minute…cold.” Dean waved the hat, feeling like a moron for being so off his game in front of what could either be an angel, a stranger, or some happy-go-lucky demon in a similar form.
“Cold.” The other man chuckled. “You’ve been on the left coast too long…are you in town for a bit?”
“I think so.” Dean nodded-as far as he was concerned, he was in town until he figured out what was going on because the longer this conversation went on, the more obvious it was that this was not Cas. The man seemed to recognize him though and he wasn't getting the vibe that it was some creature trying to fool him; the whole situation had a surreal quality and Dean was tempted to take a cue from Bobby and toss some holy water in this guy’s face.
“Cool, you should come by for dinner tonight-I mean, tell me if you have other things to do, I don’t want to be invading your time or anything.”
“No, I definitely wanna have a nice talk with you sometime this week.” Preferably once I’ve had a chance at some prep time. To anyone else, Dean's words would have sound suggestive, but if Sam were there he'd recognize the sound of his brother gearing up for a hunt.
“Just give me a call before you stop by, I’ll give you the directions and everything. I’m working on this poem and reading a few scripts later, but I’m basically open for the whole break. You left Jared there with the dogs all week?”
“Oh, if we get into all the small talk now, what are we gonna discuss over dinner?” Dean hated be on the unknowing end of a conversation. For all he knew, this guy was toying with him and there was no Jared and there were no dogs and Jen got possessed by some demon years ago and this guy blamed Dean.
“Heh. Funny.” The other man quirked his eyebrows and Dean was ashamed that, with all the theories he was coming up with, it took him so long to wonder if this was just Castiel’s vessel, walking around with some kind of blended memories putting Dean's face in there with things from the guy's normal life. He suddenly regretted not asking more about how the vessel situation worked, at taking the angel’s word that it wasn’t like possession, and not bothering to ask what happened to the body when Castiel was gone-if he ever even left it.
“You haven’t been having any blackouts, have you?” Dean hadn’t even meant to ask the question and he was glad Sam wasn’t there to see him handling this so poorly.
“I’m sorry?” The other man stuttered over a confused chuckle, but his pocket began to jingle and saved Dean from spontaneously spitting any of the other questions that would have normally been cut off by Sam’s frowny face letting him know he was going too far. Dean made sure not to squirm under the other man's steady gaze as he answered the call.
“Hey…no, I might be busy depending on…no, I just ran into Jen actually…yeah…yeah…ye-can I call you back in a few minutes?” After he hung up and while he was apologizing, Dean’s brain had a chance to kick back into gear.
“You know what, I have this new phone actually. Can I get your number again?”
“Oh, yeah man.” Happy!Cas grabbed the phone and began punching the numbers in as he spoke. “Hold on, I’ll do one of your poses.” He turned the camera around and tilted his head in a manner that reminded Dean of Castiel, but the man’s lips were pouting in a way the angel never had as he snapped a picture of himself.
Oddly enough, Dean could see himself posing just like that and it just made him more confused about how much this guy knew about him. He kept his composure through friendly goodbyes until they parted ways outside of the store, but as soon as the man was out of sight, he frantically scrolled through his phone book until he saw that just above Missouri Moseley's name, there was a new entry: Misha.