[Drabbles] 20paperplanes
Title: Prompts I-IV
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Notes:
☽✩☾Prompt: Pixie
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 554
Warning: Fallen/human Cas. It does not take 6x09 Clap Your Hands if You Believe... into account at all.
Dean rolled his head over to stare at the table, on the opposite side of the room. A teal light - a sparkling teal light - emanated from the reptile cage that sat upon it, and had held Dean's attention for much of the darkened evening, into the night. Even with Castiel's arm thrown over his abdomen.
Though pixies only gave off so much light, especially when injured, it was entrancing, and rather pretty. The pixie fluttered around her current surroundings as best she could, her gossamer wings shaking off little, old bits of crystallized something as she did so. Dean wasn't sure what it was; he'd left the researching to Sam and Cas since both had failed spectacularly in retrieving him any kind of pie that afternoon. (Hey, a man needed his pie.)
Castiel rolled up beside him with a grunt, now awake. "Dean?" he groused. A few noises of protest came forth before, "What time is it?"
Dean stole a quick glance to the alarm clock. "Quarter to four. Go back to sleep," he said, turning his head to face Castiel.
Castiel blinked a few times, the blue of his eyes catching the teal light. It drew his attention to the pixie and, apparently, kept him from deciding to sleep for a few more hours. "When she's healed enough to go home, that plastic box isn't going to hold her. She's probably…." He propped himself up on an elbow, squinting in the pixie's direction as he craned over Dean. "Half-way healed by now."
Understandably, Dean's attention was taken from the pixie, and given straight to Castiel's throat. The skin drawn over the muscle, watching it move as he spoke, or swallowed. Even as he moved away, his messy hair begged to be made even messier. Dean had to clear his throat to bring himself back. "Dude, how can you tell?" Dean fixed his eyes back to Castiel, caught between paying attention and staring at Castiel's jawline.
"She's using her magic to heal her wings. When she's healing herself, the magic crystallizes, and falls off. There's a fair amount of magic accumulated on the floor of the cage."
Oh, right. Of course. How did he forget?
"When she's healed enough, she'll either zap, as you say, herself home, or break out and curse us somehow."
"Curse us?"
"That's what Sam said," Cas said with a tired shrug. His voice was scratchy, but definitely not unpleasant. "The Fae are fairly tricky creatures, and are rather susceptible to, ah … mood swings, I suppose you'd call them."
Something told Dean that maybe it was a good thing he hadn't been there for the conversation. Fairies and pixies and gnomes and all that kind of stuff had never really been his cup of tea, and he could just imagine his brother explaining all of this. Probably with that wide-eyed, excited look on his face.
"Awesome." He turned his back to the pixie to face Castiel.
"However, she may be inclined to show us mercy for providing her sanctuary to allow her time to heal."
Dean glanced at Cas once more, the light of the pixie's magic is still reflecting in his eyes. "Human you may be," he began with a grin and a laugh. Honestly, Castiel's speech was … pretty cool. "But you are still a humongous nerd."
Prompt: Cube
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 594
Warning: Fallen/Humanized Cas
Dean wasn't a bad cook, Castiel decided. Since becoming human, Castiel's intake of food had been something of a small ride. Sam made sure that Castiel didn't eat only bacon cheeseburgers (because Dean would have been all too okay with that idea). Sam made sure that when he was out scamming Kroger, he picked up normal food. Fruits, vegetables; common meats, and - if Dean and Cas were lucky - some cookies or other small snacks.
Castiel at the grocery store had been something of a shock, though amusing. He was like an eight-year old, pointing out things that looked like they might be delicious, or crinkling his nose when Dean asked, "Think you might like this?" about a can of sauerkraut. Well, crinkled nose or not, Castiel's initial disgust at the smelly food wavered a bit, because as it turned out, Dean made one hell of an awesome Reuben. So in addition to more Reuben sandwich supplies, Castiel insisted on trying Capri Suns, and managed to convince Dean that he absolutely needed to try the kettle-cooked potato chips. Which went rather well with the Reuben and a pickle spear.
But this evening, Castiel wanted to try something a little different. After catching a glimpse of something similar on the Food Network, Castiel asked if they might try macaroni and cheese, and no-not Kraft's from-the-box Mac N' Cheese. (Dean nearly had a heart attack because, "That shit was personally made by God Himself." Though Castiel had of course countered, "No, He didn't, Dean. Its record would be written somewhere, and I would know.") So Dean ended up buying some pasta shells, and a box of Velveeta not-really-cheese-but-it-was-what-Cas-wanted. It went against almost every piece of morality Dean held - which to him wasn't a whole lot so keeping it together was important - but … as stated. It was what Cas wanted.
However, the hovering was something that had to stop; wide-open kitchen or closed space, it didn't matter. Bobby's kitchen was large enough for the both of them, so Dean really wasn't seeing why Cas couldn't just sit down.
When asked, all Castiel said was, "I would like to learn."
Dean couldn't fault him that, though really: There wasn't much to making some macaroni and cheese. He spoke through the process - boil, pour, sprinkle, bake - then showed him up through pouring the tender pasta into the baking dish. Dean was demonstrating how to cut up the block of Velveeta into smaller cubes. Castiel picked one up, looking at it as if contemplating how delicious it would taste. Dean coughed.
"You know, this isn't going to be the greatest out there," he said. "This is pretty generic stuff." And nowhere near as close to awesome as Kraft's.
"I would rather start simple, and make my way through the more complex recipes." He paused for a minute. "You're a good chef, Dean. I'm sure it will taste just fine."
Dean smirked to himself because hey, yeah, he was kinda an awesome cook, but his moment was cut short when he saw Castiel swipe two more cubes of cheese.
Dean smacked Castiel's knuckles with the back of a wooden spoon, earning himself a confused glare.
"You either eat the cubes and get no mac n' cheese, or you put them down."
Dean could have sworn Castiel was pouting, but…. It was kind of maybe a little funny, and maybe kind of a little cute. Cas returned the cheese, and sat sulking as Dean finished up.
(He didn't sulk long, though. Fake cheese or not, it turned out pretty fuckin' delicious.)
Prompt: Robot
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word Count: 243
Warning: N/A
After watching Cas stare in horror at the computer screen, Dean comes to the conclusion that it was most definitely worth buying the video game, and downloading it on to Sam's laptop. (Admittedly the Bitchface from Hell had gotten a little annoying after being its victim for a minimum of 3 seconds.) Dean had gone through the basics of this game with Cas maybe 3 or 4 times, though he's still having some issues with the controls. He's done well so far, though.
But Dean would be lying if he says that Cas is going to come from this game completely unscarred. A game whose robot characters try to kill you, but have adorable voices, all controlled by a computer-robot who sounds all sexy-like, and tries to kill you…. Deadly stuff, and it is messing with Castiel's head.
"I don't understand why the little robots-"
"Turrets," Dean supplies.
"…Why the turrets don't recognize her tyrannical hold on them."
Dean shrugs, opening a beer. He could go all existentially metaphorical on Cas, but Cas would likely not appreciate it, so he keeps that opinion to himself-or at least, as best as he can. "I dunno," he says instead. "They're just robots, and don't really have much of a mind of their own. They do as they're told. 'Sides, they're just turrets."
Dean sips at his beer, noticing the silence coming from Castiel. He isn't sure if it's a good or bad thing.
Prompt: Sword
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word Count: 251
Warning: N/A
"So," Dean begins. "You got your angel sword … thing. Have you ever used a real one?"
Castiel fixes Dean with a pressed brow, lips parted just slightly. "Mine is a real sword."
"No, I mean like a broadsword, or a whatchamacallem; the kind they use in fencing-"
"A rapier, foil, or épée?" Sam interjects from the corner.
"Sure, one of those. You ever use one of those?" Dean's stare is fixed on Castiel, waiting impatiently for an answer.
"I can't recall having ever used anything other than my own sword. I have no need for another; an angel's sword is among one of the most powerful blades in all of existence."
"Of course it is," Dean mutters under his breath.
A moment passes as Dean is struck with the image of Castiel dressed up in some kind of knightly costume, wielding a sword against his enemies. (An actual sword, of course, and not some angelic sandwich toothpick.) Castiel in a suit of armor is an amusing image, and the image of Castiel in some kind of Tudor outfit and fencing is possibly even more amusing. Even if only because Dean just can't not find the idea of Cas in tights and those poofy pants amusing. (The suit and overcoat do kinda grow on you, after all.) He snickers to himself, earning a confused stare from Castiel, and one of those, I know you're thinking something immature, stares from Sam.
"So Cas," Dean continues. "You ever been to Medieval Times?"
I hope you found these all right? I'm gonna try making it more. Actual Destiel, lmao. /o/
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Notes:
- Rest of this info will head the drabbles themselves. :)
- For the prompt community 20paperplanes! Chose the Random table.
- You can find my table here! I'll plug the links in as I post these up. :]
☽✩☾Prompt: Pixie
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 554
Warning: Fallen/human Cas. It does not take 6x09 Clap Your Hands if You Believe... into account at all.
Dean rolled his head over to stare at the table, on the opposite side of the room. A teal light - a sparkling teal light - emanated from the reptile cage that sat upon it, and had held Dean's attention for much of the darkened evening, into the night. Even with Castiel's arm thrown over his abdomen.
Though pixies only gave off so much light, especially when injured, it was entrancing, and rather pretty. The pixie fluttered around her current surroundings as best she could, her gossamer wings shaking off little, old bits of crystallized something as she did so. Dean wasn't sure what it was; he'd left the researching to Sam and Cas since both had failed spectacularly in retrieving him any kind of pie that afternoon. (Hey, a man needed his pie.)
Castiel rolled up beside him with a grunt, now awake. "Dean?" he groused. A few noises of protest came forth before, "What time is it?"
Dean stole a quick glance to the alarm clock. "Quarter to four. Go back to sleep," he said, turning his head to face Castiel.
Castiel blinked a few times, the blue of his eyes catching the teal light. It drew his attention to the pixie and, apparently, kept him from deciding to sleep for a few more hours. "When she's healed enough to go home, that plastic box isn't going to hold her. She's probably…." He propped himself up on an elbow, squinting in the pixie's direction as he craned over Dean. "Half-way healed by now."
Understandably, Dean's attention was taken from the pixie, and given straight to Castiel's throat. The skin drawn over the muscle, watching it move as he spoke, or swallowed. Even as he moved away, his messy hair begged to be made even messier. Dean had to clear his throat to bring himself back. "Dude, how can you tell?" Dean fixed his eyes back to Castiel, caught between paying attention and staring at Castiel's jawline.
"She's using her magic to heal her wings. When she's healing herself, the magic crystallizes, and falls off. There's a fair amount of magic accumulated on the floor of the cage."
Oh, right. Of course. How did he forget?
"When she's healed enough, she'll either zap, as you say, herself home, or break out and curse us somehow."
"Curse us?"
"That's what Sam said," Cas said with a tired shrug. His voice was scratchy, but definitely not unpleasant. "The Fae are fairly tricky creatures, and are rather susceptible to, ah … mood swings, I suppose you'd call them."
Something told Dean that maybe it was a good thing he hadn't been there for the conversation. Fairies and pixies and gnomes and all that kind of stuff had never really been his cup of tea, and he could just imagine his brother explaining all of this. Probably with that wide-eyed, excited look on his face.
"Awesome." He turned his back to the pixie to face Castiel.
"However, she may be inclined to show us mercy for providing her sanctuary to allow her time to heal."
Dean glanced at Cas once more, the light of the pixie's magic is still reflecting in his eyes. "Human you may be," he began with a grin and a laugh. Honestly, Castiel's speech was … pretty cool. "But you are still a humongous nerd."
Prompt: Cube
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 594
Warning: Fallen/Humanized Cas
Dean wasn't a bad cook, Castiel decided. Since becoming human, Castiel's intake of food had been something of a small ride. Sam made sure that Castiel didn't eat only bacon cheeseburgers (because Dean would have been all too okay with that idea). Sam made sure that when he was out scamming Kroger, he picked up normal food. Fruits, vegetables; common meats, and - if Dean and Cas were lucky - some cookies or other small snacks.
Castiel at the grocery store had been something of a shock, though amusing. He was like an eight-year old, pointing out things that looked like they might be delicious, or crinkling his nose when Dean asked, "Think you might like this?" about a can of sauerkraut. Well, crinkled nose or not, Castiel's initial disgust at the smelly food wavered a bit, because as it turned out, Dean made one hell of an awesome Reuben. So in addition to more Reuben sandwich supplies, Castiel insisted on trying Capri Suns, and managed to convince Dean that he absolutely needed to try the kettle-cooked potato chips. Which went rather well with the Reuben and a pickle spear.
But this evening, Castiel wanted to try something a little different. After catching a glimpse of something similar on the Food Network, Castiel asked if they might try macaroni and cheese, and no-not Kraft's from-the-box Mac N' Cheese. (Dean nearly had a heart attack because, "That shit was personally made by God Himself." Though Castiel had of course countered, "No, He didn't, Dean. Its record would be written somewhere, and I would know.") So Dean ended up buying some pasta shells, and a box of Velveeta not-really-cheese-but-it-was-what-Cas-wanted. It went against almost every piece of morality Dean held - which to him wasn't a whole lot so keeping it together was important - but … as stated. It was what Cas wanted.
However, the hovering was something that had to stop; wide-open kitchen or closed space, it didn't matter. Bobby's kitchen was large enough for the both of them, so Dean really wasn't seeing why Cas couldn't just sit down.
When asked, all Castiel said was, "I would like to learn."
Dean couldn't fault him that, though really: There wasn't much to making some macaroni and cheese. He spoke through the process - boil, pour, sprinkle, bake - then showed him up through pouring the tender pasta into the baking dish. Dean was demonstrating how to cut up the block of Velveeta into smaller cubes. Castiel picked one up, looking at it as if contemplating how delicious it would taste. Dean coughed.
"You know, this isn't going to be the greatest out there," he said. "This is pretty generic stuff." And nowhere near as close to awesome as Kraft's.
"I would rather start simple, and make my way through the more complex recipes." He paused for a minute. "You're a good chef, Dean. I'm sure it will taste just fine."
Dean smirked to himself because hey, yeah, he was kinda an awesome cook, but his moment was cut short when he saw Castiel swipe two more cubes of cheese.
Dean smacked Castiel's knuckles with the back of a wooden spoon, earning himself a confused glare.
"You either eat the cubes and get no mac n' cheese, or you put them down."
Dean could have sworn Castiel was pouting, but…. It was kind of maybe a little funny, and maybe kind of a little cute. Cas returned the cheese, and sat sulking as Dean finished up.
(He didn't sulk long, though. Fake cheese or not, it turned out pretty fuckin' delicious.)
Prompt: Robot
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word Count: 243
Warning: N/A
After watching Cas stare in horror at the computer screen, Dean comes to the conclusion that it was most definitely worth buying the video game, and downloading it on to Sam's laptop. (Admittedly the Bitchface from Hell had gotten a little annoying after being its victim for a minimum of 3 seconds.) Dean had gone through the basics of this game with Cas maybe 3 or 4 times, though he's still having some issues with the controls. He's done well so far, though.
But Dean would be lying if he says that Cas is going to come from this game completely unscarred. A game whose robot characters try to kill you, but have adorable voices, all controlled by a computer-robot who sounds all sexy-like, and tries to kill you…. Deadly stuff, and it is messing with Castiel's head.
"I don't understand why the little robots-"
"Turrets," Dean supplies.
"…Why the turrets don't recognize her tyrannical hold on them."
Dean shrugs, opening a beer. He could go all existentially metaphorical on Cas, but Cas would likely not appreciate it, so he keeps that opinion to himself-or at least, as best as he can. "I dunno," he says instead. "They're just robots, and don't really have much of a mind of their own. They do as they're told. 'Sides, they're just turrets."
Dean sips at his beer, noticing the silence coming from Castiel. He isn't sure if it's a good or bad thing.
Prompt: Sword
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word Count: 251
Warning: N/A
"So," Dean begins. "You got your angel sword … thing. Have you ever used a real one?"
Castiel fixes Dean with a pressed brow, lips parted just slightly. "Mine is a real sword."
"No, I mean like a broadsword, or a whatchamacallem; the kind they use in fencing-"
"A rapier, foil, or épée?" Sam interjects from the corner.
"Sure, one of those. You ever use one of those?" Dean's stare is fixed on Castiel, waiting impatiently for an answer.
"I can't recall having ever used anything other than my own sword. I have no need for another; an angel's sword is among one of the most powerful blades in all of existence."
"Of course it is," Dean mutters under his breath.
A moment passes as Dean is struck with the image of Castiel dressed up in some kind of knightly costume, wielding a sword against his enemies. (An actual sword, of course, and not some angelic sandwich toothpick.) Castiel in a suit of armor is an amusing image, and the image of Castiel in some kind of Tudor outfit and fencing is possibly even more amusing. Even if only because Dean just can't not find the idea of Cas in tights and those poofy pants amusing. (The suit and overcoat do kinda grow on you, after all.) He snickers to himself, earning a confused stare from Castiel, and one of those, I know you're thinking something immature, stares from Sam.
"So Cas," Dean continues. "You ever been to Medieval Times?"
I hope you found these all right? I'm gonna try making it more. Actual Destiel, lmao. /o/