Fanfic: Once Around the Block [SPN]
Note: I originally wrote this under my other journal, but since I'm moving all my fannish stuff over here, it makes sense to mirror it here as well. Too many RL people know about the other journal anyway.
Posted here 1/10/14 and backdated to the original publish date.
I wrote this for the 2009 AU/Fusion Challenge over on deancastiel, and it is ALL intravox's fault for showing me the prompt list.
Minor spoilers from Supernatural Seasons 4/5. It's AU, so nothing from the show really is referenced except the names of the characters.
Title: Once Around the Block
Author: hours_gone_by (originally published under Seryan)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU/AR (AU: Castiel is a socially awkward computer programmer who is working on artificial intelligence, Dean is one of his AI's that takes on a mind of its own.)
Word Count: 1614
Summary: Approximately 25 years in the future, a shy artificial intelligence programmer named Castiel designs an AI to run his computerized house and serve as a companion, housekeeper, and occasional sounding-board. The results aren't quite what he expects.
Author's Notes: Thank you to intravox for beta-ing, catching where I'd messed up 'it's' and 'its', and correcting my tenses. Of course, it's also her fault for getting me into this... Also, I may love the Impala just a little too much.
Castiel had wondered about five minutes after the AI came online if it had been a mistake. The day after - when he'd answered his front door only to be greeted by a young woman in a barely-there maid's costume, who he didn't think was actually there to clean his house - he had been certain it was. A week later, he began to wish he could actually go back in time and talk himself out of altering that piece of code juuust a little to see what would happen.
It had been going a bit better, the AI that called itself Dean having seemed to have understood his instructions, but this...this was clearly in defiance of everything Castiel had told the rogue program.
'Dean,' he'd said firmly, to the AI who was making its avatar fold its arms stubbornly on the screen. 'You cannot do this. I don't - this isn't me! I don't listen to classic rock, I don't eat the type of grossly unhealthy food you've been adding to the kitchen's grocery orders, and I certainly don't hire...'
'Hookers?' Dean charged. 'You know what else you don't do, Cas? Fun. You don't do fun. I mean, I know everything about you, man! The most daring thing you do is buy a croissant with butter, and even that's just twice a month! Maybe! And if you've gotten laid' Castiel glanced away, embarrassed, but Dean kept going, ''it' s not in the recent past as far as I can see. You've got to have something to do for fun!'
Apparently this was 'fun'. Castiel gazed at the sleek, black, antique car lurking in his driveway. It looked tough, muscled, low to the ground with menace. He got the feeling that, if it could, it would beat up his small, sensible, modern, fuel-celled car and take its lunch money.
Money. He tried not to mentally calculate what the upkeep on an antique car was going to cost him, not to mention the insurance, and the fuel costs if it still burned fossil fuels, but couldn't help coming up with a rather painful figure.
Sighing heavily, Castiel eased his car into the driveway next to the one that had apparently been acquired for him, shut it off, and got out. He'd just have to order Dean to send it back, that was all. Send it back, and get a refund, and then his life could go back to normal. Dean would see that his interference wasn't welcome, and would stop, and run the house the way he was supposed to run the house. Of course, the program could always be altered, but...cocky, arrogant, and downright irritating as he could be at times, Dean was a major achievement in artificial intelligence. Castiel wasn't even sure how he'd accomplished it, and wasn't sure it was worth risking the losses that changing the program might create.
He went quickly into the house, ignoring the part of his mind that was saying, admiringly, 'You know, that's a really nice car', and didn't even bother to take off his coat before shouting "Dean!"
Of course, the AI was already there, projecting himself from the waist up on the screen in the entryway, cocky grin beaming broadly across his face.
"Dude!" Dean greeted him. "Saw the car? Awesome, amiright?"
"Dean, you cannot..." Castiel paced, quickly and briefly, then turned around to face the screen. "That has to go back," he said firmly, pointing in the direction of the driveway.
Dean's face fell into confusion. "What? You don't like it?"
"Dean, I - " Castiel broke off, finding to his surprise that he didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings. Dean had obviously thought he was doing Castiel a favour (probably something to do with sex, and how a computer program, no matter how sophisticated, felt about that, he didn't want to know), and had obviously expected Castiel to be happy. Castiel felt as he imagined he would if he had to tell a small child Santa didn't exist. "It's a good car."
Dean snorted. "Are you kidding? It's a great car!"
"Yes," Castiel said, hurriedly, trying not to get sidetracked. "Yes, but I can't afford it."
"Sure you can!" Dean grinned at him, slyly. "I got you a raise. You're way overdue - that company is just using you. You know you should be making half again what they're giving you? Starts this pay. Even made it retroactive to what should have been three raises ago."
"You hacked into the company's payroll?"
Dean frowned, taken aback. "No, man!" he protested, clearly offended. "You told me 'nothing illegal, Dean'," here he mimicked Castiel's voice, "and I didn't."
Castiel eyed the face in the monitor, and mentally added 'disingenuous' to his list of personality descriptors.
"Dean, what did you do?"
"Nothing! Just, you know, a little convincing." Dean shrugged.
"Convincing?" The edge in his voice surprised Castiel. He was going to have to call HR, before they called him, and hope that Dean hadn't left any traces - from Castiel's own home, dear God - in the system.
"Yeah. See," Dean shifted on the screen, like he was widening his stance, and his hands came into view, tracing an hourglass, "see, there's this sweet little accounting program - oh man!" he chuckled, shaking his head as if in amazement, "the things that it can do with - "
Castiel really didn't want to hear this. He really did not want to imagine his house AI's version of a sex life. Fortunately, Dean broke off, shifting topics again.
"Anyway, I just pointed out that you hadn't received your scheduled raises, and wasn't that an oversight that should be corrected? And, bingo!" Dean spread his hands wide, beaming, "one nice fat raise for the Cas-man! And everyone else. Someone had set up some kind of block to prevent salaries from rising they way they should. Had to take care of that first. Even set it up so that if management tries to reinitialize it, or reduce everyone else's pay, theirs gets dropped too. That's the last thing they'd want, so your snazzy new income? Is safe.
"As for the car, well, I figured you'd be worried about pollution, and insurance, and fossil fuels, and all that, so I got you a special model. It's," Dean laughed, pleased and proud of himself, and Castiel realized that his willingness to get rid of the sleek machine was hanging on by a bare thread, melting away under the force of Dean's enthusiasm. "Oh, man, you'll love it! It's a vintage body, yeah, but it's been retrofitted with a brand-new, top-of-the-line fuel cell engine, and it's fixed up so that it still has the original engine sound. It's twice as efficient as that pussy little k-car you have now, plus a hundred times more bad-ass!"
"What's a k-car? Never mind. Dean, I don't...it's a good - a great car," Castiel amended, quickly, "but it isn't my kind of car."
"I know." Dean became serious, peering out of the monitor intently. "Look, Cas, you sleep exactly the medically recommended hours for a man your age, exercise exactly the same way, eat the same way...Hell, if there were a medically recommended number of times in the day to piss, you'd do that too. Your entire life is perfectly controlled, measured, safe...That's not a life, Cas, that's just existing. You need to get out, meet people, take a few chances, chow down on some good, old-fashioned, artery-blocking grub. Stop denying yourself, man! Live a little! Otherwise, you're just keeping yourself in shape for the worms, and that's no way to be."
They stood for a long minute, looking at each other. Finally, Dean sighed, and shook his head.
"Look, man, just give her a test drive. Once around the block, even, and if, if, the sweet purr of that baby's engine," he stabbed a finger in the direction of the car, "simulated or not, doesn't convince you, I'll send her back. I promise. Just try. That's all I'm asking."
Castiel hesitated, glancing away, then back. Dean's gaze held steady, searching.
"Ignition's been upgraded, too, and I've already keyed it to your voice-print and biometrics," Dean offered.
"You'll send it back?"
"Unless you tell me otherwise. Absolutely." Dean nodded, eyes open wide in innocent promise - or premise, Castiel wasn't sure.
"One block." Castiel held up a single finger to reaffirm his resolve. "And that's it."
Dean spread his hands in a whatever-you-say gesture.
Castiel walked, a little stiffly, out of the house and down the path to the driveway. The car - an 'Impala', he noted - gave every impression of waiting, and not necessarily patiently, either. He paused for a moment, running a hand over the sleek, gleaming body. Like many teens, he'd had a car-phase, and he realized now there was a part of him that had never quite gotten over it, that thrilled at the idea of using this machine, of owning it, and having everyone know that he owned it.
The driver's door swung open like welcome when he lifted the handle. The engine roared to life at his touch on the ignition-pad, the sound deep and visceral. Castiel put his hands on the steering wheel, and knew he could not send this back.
The car had a modern sound system, and a link to his home's computer, cunningly disguised as an antique car radio. He opened the link.
"Dean, list the old car for sale, and order me in," he paused, and realized he was grinning broadly, "a bacon cheeseburger and a beer." Castiel gunned the engine, thrilling to the sound in a primal way, "We'll be back later.”
Posted here 1/10/14 and backdated to the original publish date.
I wrote this for the 2009 AU/Fusion Challenge over on deancastiel, and it is ALL intravox's fault for showing me the prompt list.
Minor spoilers from Supernatural Seasons 4/5. It's AU, so nothing from the show really is referenced except the names of the characters.
Title: Once Around the Block
Author: hours_gone_by (originally published under Seryan)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU/AR (AU: Castiel is a socially awkward computer programmer who is working on artificial intelligence, Dean is one of his AI's that takes on a mind of its own.)
Word Count: 1614
Summary: Approximately 25 years in the future, a shy artificial intelligence programmer named Castiel designs an AI to run his computerized house and serve as a companion, housekeeper, and occasional sounding-board. The results aren't quite what he expects.
Author's Notes: Thank you to intravox for beta-ing, catching where I'd messed up 'it's' and 'its', and correcting my tenses. Of course, it's also her fault for getting me into this... Also, I may love the Impala just a little too much.
Castiel had wondered about five minutes after the AI came online if it had been a mistake. The day after - when he'd answered his front door only to be greeted by a young woman in a barely-there maid's costume, who he didn't think was actually there to clean his house - he had been certain it was. A week later, he began to wish he could actually go back in time and talk himself out of altering that piece of code juuust a little to see what would happen.
It had been going a bit better, the AI that called itself Dean having seemed to have understood his instructions, but this...this was clearly in defiance of everything Castiel had told the rogue program.
'Dean,' he'd said firmly, to the AI who was making its avatar fold its arms stubbornly on the screen. 'You cannot do this. I don't - this isn't me! I don't listen to classic rock, I don't eat the type of grossly unhealthy food you've been adding to the kitchen's grocery orders, and I certainly don't hire...'
'Hookers?' Dean charged. 'You know what else you don't do, Cas? Fun. You don't do fun. I mean, I know everything about you, man! The most daring thing you do is buy a croissant with butter, and even that's just twice a month! Maybe! And if you've gotten laid' Castiel glanced away, embarrassed, but Dean kept going, ''it' s not in the recent past as far as I can see. You've got to have something to do for fun!'
Apparently this was 'fun'. Castiel gazed at the sleek, black, antique car lurking in his driveway. It looked tough, muscled, low to the ground with menace. He got the feeling that, if it could, it would beat up his small, sensible, modern, fuel-celled car and take its lunch money.
Money. He tried not to mentally calculate what the upkeep on an antique car was going to cost him, not to mention the insurance, and the fuel costs if it still burned fossil fuels, but couldn't help coming up with a rather painful figure.
Sighing heavily, Castiel eased his car into the driveway next to the one that had apparently been acquired for him, shut it off, and got out. He'd just have to order Dean to send it back, that was all. Send it back, and get a refund, and then his life could go back to normal. Dean would see that his interference wasn't welcome, and would stop, and run the house the way he was supposed to run the house. Of course, the program could always be altered, but...cocky, arrogant, and downright irritating as he could be at times, Dean was a major achievement in artificial intelligence. Castiel wasn't even sure how he'd accomplished it, and wasn't sure it was worth risking the losses that changing the program might create.
He went quickly into the house, ignoring the part of his mind that was saying, admiringly, 'You know, that's a really nice car', and didn't even bother to take off his coat before shouting "Dean!"
Of course, the AI was already there, projecting himself from the waist up on the screen in the entryway, cocky grin beaming broadly across his face.
"Dude!" Dean greeted him. "Saw the car? Awesome, amiright?"
"Dean, you cannot..." Castiel paced, quickly and briefly, then turned around to face the screen. "That has to go back," he said firmly, pointing in the direction of the driveway.
Dean's face fell into confusion. "What? You don't like it?"
"Dean, I - " Castiel broke off, finding to his surprise that he didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings. Dean had obviously thought he was doing Castiel a favour (probably something to do with sex, and how a computer program, no matter how sophisticated, felt about that, he didn't want to know), and had obviously expected Castiel to be happy. Castiel felt as he imagined he would if he had to tell a small child Santa didn't exist. "It's a good car."
Dean snorted. "Are you kidding? It's a great car!"
"Yes," Castiel said, hurriedly, trying not to get sidetracked. "Yes, but I can't afford it."
"Sure you can!" Dean grinned at him, slyly. "I got you a raise. You're way overdue - that company is just using you. You know you should be making half again what they're giving you? Starts this pay. Even made it retroactive to what should have been three raises ago."
"You hacked into the company's payroll?"
Dean frowned, taken aback. "No, man!" he protested, clearly offended. "You told me 'nothing illegal, Dean'," here he mimicked Castiel's voice, "and I didn't."
Castiel eyed the face in the monitor, and mentally added 'disingenuous' to his list of personality descriptors.
"Dean, what did you do?"
"Nothing! Just, you know, a little convincing." Dean shrugged.
"Convincing?" The edge in his voice surprised Castiel. He was going to have to call HR, before they called him, and hope that Dean hadn't left any traces - from Castiel's own home, dear God - in the system.
"Yeah. See," Dean shifted on the screen, like he was widening his stance, and his hands came into view, tracing an hourglass, "see, there's this sweet little accounting program - oh man!" he chuckled, shaking his head as if in amazement, "the things that it can do with - "
Castiel really didn't want to hear this. He really did not want to imagine his house AI's version of a sex life. Fortunately, Dean broke off, shifting topics again.
"Anyway, I just pointed out that you hadn't received your scheduled raises, and wasn't that an oversight that should be corrected? And, bingo!" Dean spread his hands wide, beaming, "one nice fat raise for the Cas-man! And everyone else. Someone had set up some kind of block to prevent salaries from rising they way they should. Had to take care of that first. Even set it up so that if management tries to reinitialize it, or reduce everyone else's pay, theirs gets dropped too. That's the last thing they'd want, so your snazzy new income? Is safe.
"As for the car, well, I figured you'd be worried about pollution, and insurance, and fossil fuels, and all that, so I got you a special model. It's," Dean laughed, pleased and proud of himself, and Castiel realized that his willingness to get rid of the sleek machine was hanging on by a bare thread, melting away under the force of Dean's enthusiasm. "Oh, man, you'll love it! It's a vintage body, yeah, but it's been retrofitted with a brand-new, top-of-the-line fuel cell engine, and it's fixed up so that it still has the original engine sound. It's twice as efficient as that pussy little k-car you have now, plus a hundred times more bad-ass!"
"What's a k-car? Never mind. Dean, I don't...it's a good - a great car," Castiel amended, quickly, "but it isn't my kind of car."
"I know." Dean became serious, peering out of the monitor intently. "Look, Cas, you sleep exactly the medically recommended hours for a man your age, exercise exactly the same way, eat the same way...Hell, if there were a medically recommended number of times in the day to piss, you'd do that too. Your entire life is perfectly controlled, measured, safe...That's not a life, Cas, that's just existing. You need to get out, meet people, take a few chances, chow down on some good, old-fashioned, artery-blocking grub. Stop denying yourself, man! Live a little! Otherwise, you're just keeping yourself in shape for the worms, and that's no way to be."
They stood for a long minute, looking at each other. Finally, Dean sighed, and shook his head.
"Look, man, just give her a test drive. Once around the block, even, and if, if, the sweet purr of that baby's engine," he stabbed a finger in the direction of the car, "simulated or not, doesn't convince you, I'll send her back. I promise. Just try. That's all I'm asking."
Castiel hesitated, glancing away, then back. Dean's gaze held steady, searching.
"Ignition's been upgraded, too, and I've already keyed it to your voice-print and biometrics," Dean offered.
"You'll send it back?"
"Unless you tell me otherwise. Absolutely." Dean nodded, eyes open wide in innocent promise - or premise, Castiel wasn't sure.
"One block." Castiel held up a single finger to reaffirm his resolve. "And that's it."
Dean spread his hands in a whatever-you-say gesture.
Castiel walked, a little stiffly, out of the house and down the path to the driveway. The car - an 'Impala', he noted - gave every impression of waiting, and not necessarily patiently, either. He paused for a moment, running a hand over the sleek, gleaming body. Like many teens, he'd had a car-phase, and he realized now there was a part of him that had never quite gotten over it, that thrilled at the idea of using this machine, of owning it, and having everyone know that he owned it.
The driver's door swung open like welcome when he lifted the handle. The engine roared to life at his touch on the ignition-pad, the sound deep and visceral. Castiel put his hands on the steering wheel, and knew he could not send this back.
The car had a modern sound system, and a link to his home's computer, cunningly disguised as an antique car radio. He opened the link.
"Dean, list the old car for sale, and order me in," he paused, and realized he was grinning broadly, "a bacon cheeseburger and a beer." Castiel gunned the engine, thrilling to the sound in a primal way, "We'll be back later.”