Comment!fic roundup 1
I've been writing comment!fic lately. Here's all of it from the last month. Some of it is in capslock because it's from a land where casplock is customary. Some of it is in capslock because I was up at 6am writing about HELICOPTERS. Some of it is not in capslock at all; sucks to be it.
In chronological order, with no promise of sanity...
From a random comment thread at mishaland:
FIC ABOUT SAM AND CAS MAKING OUT
SAM HATED DOING THE LAUNDRY FOR THREE REASONS.
ONE: DEAN NEVER DID HIS SHARE, HE JUST PILED HIS SKIDMARKED UNDIES IN THE PASSENGER SEAT OF THE IMPALA WHEN HE HAD SOME BAR SKANK OVER TO THE MOTEL ROOM, AN OH-SO-SUBTLE "AS LONG AS YOU'RE LOCKED OUT..." MESSAGE TO HIS LITTLE BROTHER.
TWO: SMALL-TOWN LAUNDROMATS SMELLED WEIRD. NOT OLD FOOD WEIRD, OR EVEN STALE SEX SHEETS WEIRD, BUT DESPERATION AND LINGERING HOSTILITY WEIRD. IT REMINDED HIM OF HIGH SCHOOL.
THREE: MOST OF THE TIME, SAM WOUND UP DOING LAUNDRY AT NIGHT. IN AN EMPTY LAUNDROMAT WITH FLORESCENT BULBS FLICKERING LIKE HORROR MOVIE SET DRESSINGS. SAM HATED TO ADMIT IT, HAVING LOOKED INTO THE FACE OF REAL EVIL HIMSELF, BUT HE STILL HAD A LINGERING CHILDHOOD FEAR OF EMPTY LAUNDROMATS. THEY JUST SEEMED HAUNTED. BLANK AISLES, CLANKING MACHINES IN DISREPAIR, MYSTERIOUS WHINES AND CLICKS. HE KNEW IT WAS RIDICULOUS, BUT A PART OF HIM THAT WAS STILL FIVE YEARS OLD AND HADN’T YET FOUND HIS DAD’S MONSTER JOURNAL INSISTED THAT LAUNDROMATS WERE THE CREEPIEST PLACES ON EARTH.
SAM WAS SITTING ALONE, KEEPING WATCH OVER HIS TUMBLING DARKS AND TRYING VERY HARD TO PUT HIS INNER FIVE-YEAR-OLD TO BED WHEN SOMETHING RUSTLED NEAR HIS HEAD. HE JUMPED, MAKING HIS CHAIR SHRIEK, AND NEARLY BANGED HIS HEAD ON THE NEAREST DRYER.
“SAM,” CASTIEL SAID.
“CHRIST!” SAM REPLIED. “YOU CAN’T CALL AHEAD?”
“I HAD NO NEED,” THE ANGEL SAID. “DEAN TOLD ME YOU WERE HERE.”
“I THOUGHT DEAN HAD A GIRL OVER.”
“HE DOES. SHE WAS…UNWELCOMING TO ME.” CASTIEL GAZED DOWN AT SAM AND TILTED HIS HEAD. “YOU LOOK FRIGHTENED.”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME!” SAM COULDN’T HELP IT. HE’D BEEN ON EDGE EVER SINCE LUCIFER HAD RISEN, BARELY HOLDING HIMSELF TOGETHER, AND HE HATED THE DEVIL FOR THAT. AND THE ANGELS WHO’D LET IT HAPPEN. AND MORE THAN ANYTHING, HIMSELF. “GODDAMNIT!” HE CRIED, HIS VOICE A LITTLE TOO HIGH. “THIS PLACE IS ALREADY WIGGING ME OUT ENOUGH WITHOUT YOUR FREAKY APPARATING TRICK AND BATMAN VOICE!”
“I APOLOGIZE. PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE CALLED AHEAD.” CASTIEL RAN A HAND ACROSS THE RUMBLING FRAME OF A WASHING MACHINE. “YOU FIND THIS PLACE UNSETTLING?”
“YES,” SAM SAID, SHRINKING IN ON HIMSELF. “IT’S JUST…WHEN I WAS A LITTLE KID, MY DAD USED TO LEAVE US IN PLACES LIKE THIS WHEN WE WERE ON THE ROAD. DEAN WOULD ALWAYS GO CHECK OUT THE ARCADE, SO IT WAS JUST ME, THE LAUNDRY, AND MY IMAGINATION.”
“THE STING OF ABANDONMENT MERGED WITH THE FEAR OF THE FACILITIES,” CASTIEL ASSESSED.
“YES. THANK YOU, DR. FREUD, I’M CURED,” SAM DEADPANNED.
“ANALYSIS ISN’T A CURE FOR FEAR,” CASTIEL SAID, TAKING A SEAT BESIDE HIM.
SAM STARED INTO THE ANGEL’S EYES. THERE WAS SOMETHING SO EARNEST ABOUT THEM - EARNEST AND YET INTENSE. ENGROSSING.
THE MACHINE BEHIND HIM GAVE A RUSTY CLANK, AND SAM JUMPED AGAIN, HIS HAND FLYING OUT AND GRIPPING CASTIEL’S COAT. STRUGGLING TO CATCH THE BREATH THAT WAS HOLDING TIGHT INSIDE HIS THROAT, HE LOOKED BACK TO THE ANGEL.
CASTIEL REGARDED HIS HAND, AND THEN HIS FACE ONCE MORE. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT DOES CURE CHILDHOOD FEARS?” HE LEANED FORWARD, SAM’S ARM CURLING BETWEEN THEM. HIS BREATH WARMING SAM’S CHIN, HE SAID, “OVERWRITING THE BAD MEMORIES WITH GOOD ONES.”
SAM’S LIPS PARTED SLIGHTLY, AND THEN CASTIEL CLOSED HIS OWN OVER THEM. THEY WERE WARMER THAN THE CLAMMY AIR OF THE LAUNDROMAT, AND DRY, AND POSSESSED OF A RHYTHM THAT DREW SAM INTO THE KISS WITHOUT PROTEST. HIS HAND GRIPPED CASTIEL’S COAT FOR A MINUTE, AND THEN IT SLID DOWN UNDER THE LAPELS AND EXPLORED THE CONTOURS OF HIS CHEST AND SIDES. CASTIEL DELVED HARDER INTO THE KISS AND PRESSED AGAINST HIM, HIS OWN HANDS TAKING INVENTORY OF THE BUTTONS AND SEAMS ON SAM’S SHIRT.
SAM PULLED CASTIEL CLOSER AGAINST HIMSELF, THEIR LEGS TANGLING AS THEIR HIPS STRUGGLED TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM. BEHIND HIM, THE CLANKING AND WHINING AND STRANGE NOISES OF THE LAUNDROMAT SEEMED TO FADE AWAY.
SAM SMELLED TIDE AND TASTED CASTIEL, AND HE WAS CERTAIN THAT LAUNDROMATS WOULD NEVER HOLD QUITE THE SAME ASSOCIATIONS FOR HIM AGAIN.
--------------------
From another random comment thread at mishaland where people were throwing out ship suggestions:
DEAN/HIS DAD'S JOURNAL
SUNLIGHT CASCADED THROUGH THE OPEN CURTAINS, WARMING THE LEATHER COVER OF THE JOURNAL TUCKED CLOSE AGAINST DEAN'S BELLY. HE STRETCHED, TAKING IN A LUNGFUL OF FRESH MORNING AIR, AND SNUGGLED CLOSER TO HIS FATHER'S MONSTER JOURNAL.
"G'MORNIN', BABY," THE HUNTER COOED, CARESSING THE SOFT CREASES OF THE JOURNAL'S COVER. HE TWIRLED A LEATHER STRAP AROUND ONE FINGER IDLY. "WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"MMM." DEAN STROKED THE EDGES OF ITS PAGES, WHICH WERE STUCK TOGETHER FROM 2002-2003. "WE SHOULD DO THIS AGAIN."
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"I THINK...I THINK I'M FEELING SOMETHING MORE HERE BETWEEN US," THE HUNTER CONFESSED, A MANLY TEAR OF HAPPINESS ROLLING DOWN ONE CHEEK. "SOMETHING REAL. DO YOU FEEL IT, TOO?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"JESUS, I'M SO HAPPY TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE," DEAN SAID, CLUTCHING THE JOURNAL TIGHTLY AGAINST HIM. DRAWING IT UP THE LENGTH OF HIS TORSO, LETTING THE CORNERS DIG LIGHTLY INTO HIS SKIN, HE BROUGHT THE JOURNAL TO HIS LIPS AND KISSED IT DEEPLY. IT TASTED OF LEATHER AND SLIGHTLY OF MOTOR OIL, WHICH REMINDED HIM OF HIS FATHER'S WEATHERED HANDS. HE PULLED BACK. "JOURNAL...DO YOU THINK THIS IS AN EXTENSION OF MY DADDY ISSUES?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"WELL FUCK YOU!" DEAN CRIED, TOSSING THE JOURNAL ACROSS THE BED. IT LANDED IN A MOROSE HEAP ON THE PILLOW, AND DEAN LEAPT OUT OF BED, PULLING ON HIS PANTS AND SHIRT. "THERE ARE PLENTY OF OTHER JOURNALS OUT THERE. JOURNALS THAT WON'T CONDESCEND TO ME AND NAG ME ABOUT MY DEEP-SEATED EMOTIONAL ISSUES! I'M GOING TO GO MAKE OUT WITH SAM'S LISA FRANK DIARY! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"
AND AS MUCH AS IT WANTED TO, THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
-----------------
From the superglee comment!fic meme,
Sue Sylvester/Uriel
Standing amidst the throngs of odiferous human children, with their canvas sacks full of unlearned knowledge and their absurdly small music listening devices, Uriel glowered. High school. What a perfect retreat to remind him of his mission. Man was truly his Father’s most foolish creation.
“Mud monkeys,” he hissed under his breath as a cluster of ninth graders skittered past like roaches. “Filth on legs.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” said a husky, powerful voice from the doorway beside him. Uriel glanced downward to find a blonde human woman echoing his stance, her arms shoved together across her chest and a glare written like the word of God across her sharp face. “You haven’t seen them in the locker rooms,” she said, and the way her voice curled around the syllables, embracing every iota of hatred, wrenched a smile from within him.
A human she may be, but clearly this was no ordinary human. Uriel found himself narrowing his eyes at her in a way he hadn’t in ages. He was waiting to hear her speak again. “Locker rooms?” he prompted, after a few seconds.
“Towels everywhere,” she spat, her lips twisting deliciously. “Shrieking and cursing, comparing asses like baboons. The modern locker room is the truest display humanity has that evolution was a lie invented to sell zoo memberships. There’s been no progress made in the last million years, except for the invention of plastics.”
That bile! That vengeful snuff of nostrils! Uriel felt warmth creep through his chest. It was a new sensation, not unlike the heat the righteous flames at Sodom and Gomorra had painted on his breastplate. “Plastics are indeed useful,” he agreed.
“So, what are you, the new Physics teacher?” The woman angled her head up, momentarily catching his eyes. Hers were as full of rage and defiance as his garrison was full of love for the Lord, and it filled Uriel with…damnation! Feelings! Just the other day he had been warning Castiel against the ridiculous things!
And yet, the warmth remained. Uriel opened his mouth and found he couldn’t lie to this human woman, this dagger amidst the sporks. “I am Uriel,” he said, his voice rumbling through the wall behind them, “angel of the Lord. Specialist. I smite your kind with pleasure.”
“Sue Sylvester,” the woman replied, giving him a casual nod. “Cheerleading coach. Editorial reporter. Smiting is a field I dabble in.”
The bell rang, and the children of man skittered off to class, the rhythm of their feet echoing through the hallways like so many cattle’s hooves on a slaughterhouse floor. Uriel smirked down at his companion, feeling. Affection soured his throat.
Sue Sylvester glared into his eyes for a long while as the last of the mud monkeys’ voices rebounded off the concrete. Then, with little more than a frown to warn him, she wrapped her stiff arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.
Uriel had never been kissed by a human, and his first urge was to recoil, but he could taste her wrath like a fine wine, and he relaxed into it, growling into her mouth. Sue Sylvester only growled back. And with that, he knew it to be true.
This was destiny. Together, they would smite the world of man.
Sue Sylvester bit his lip and pulled back. “Are you as turned on and pissed off as I am right now?”
“More,” Uriel said, looming over her. “Would you like to go copulate on the guidance counselor’s desk?”
Sue Sylvester narrowed her eyes at him again, then said in a harsh whisper, “On your back. Clothes on. Blinds open.”
“I agree to your terms.”
“Somebody get this man a protein shake!” Sue Sylvester called down the hallway, and took his hand, leading him toward their glorious future.
~Fin~
--------------
From the Stay Sassy Sam/Castiel comment!fic meme (which is GLORIOUS):
Sam teaches Castiel to fly A HELICOPTER
"SAM!" CASTIEL BURST THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE MOTEL ROOM LIKE THE VERY HORDES OF HELL WERE ON HIS TAIL, AND BOTH WINCHESTER BROTHERS LEAPT UP, GRABBING VARIOUS IMPLEMENTS OF VIOLENCE JUST IN CASE.
"WHAT IS IT, CAS?" SAM SAID, RUSHING FORWARD.
"I NEED YOU TO TEACH ME TO FLY A HELICOPTER!" CASTIEL ANNOUNCED IMPORTANTLY.
NOW SAM, HE WAS SMART. HE WAS VERY, VERY SMART, IN FACT. BUT HE'D NEVER FLOWN A HELICOPTER. HE'D WATCHED COUNTLESS MOVIES WITH HELICOPTER PILOTS IN THEM, AND HE'D ONCE OWNED A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES LIKE A HELICOPTER PILOT'S, AND THAT WAS IT. BUT HE HAD SPECIAL FEELINGS IN THE GROIN FOR CASTIEL AND REALLY WANTED HIM TO THINK HE WAS COOL, SO HE SAID, "OH, IS THAT ALL? I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO DO SOMETHING DIFFICULT."
DEAN GAVE HIM THE SORT OF LOOK THAT SAID, "THIS WILL ONLY END IN YOU SOBBING INTO A PINT OF HAAGEN DAAS," BUT BEING A GOOD BROTHER, WHAT HE SAID WAS, "OH, YEAH, SAMMY HERE'S AN EXPERT HELICOPTER PILOT."
AND SO CASTIEL GRABBED SAM BY THE SHOULDER AND ANGEL MOJO'D HIM INTO A HELICOPTER THAT WAS IN MID-FLIGHT.
"WOAH," SAM SAID. "SHOULDN'T WE BE STARTING THIS LESSON ON THE GROUND?"
"THERE'S NO TIME," CASTIEL INSISTED. "WHAT DO WE DO NOW?"
"OKAY, UM--" SAM SURVEYED THE ARRAY OF BUTTONS, KNOBS, AND LEVERS. "UH, YOU PULL ON THIS THING TO STEER, I THINK. I MEAN, I KNOW, BECAUSE I'M COOL AND SMART."
"YOU ARE," CASTIEL AGREED, AND SAM FELT A LITTLE FLUTTER IN HIS STOMACH.
WHICH BECAME A BIG FLUTTER WHEN CASTIEL PUSHED ON THE THING HE'D POINTED TO AND THE HELICOPTER SWERVED SHARPLY TO THE RIGHT.
"WE'RE SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL!" CASTIEL CRIED. "WHAT NOW?"
"THE RED THINGY! OR--OR THE GREEN DOODAD! PUSH SOMETHING!"
THE HELICOPTER VEERED UPWARDS. THEN DOWNWARDS. THEN ITS BLADES STOPPED SPINNING. SAM BEGAN TO SHOUT RANDOM COLORS AND CATEGORIES OF THINGS ON THE DASHBOARD, AND CASTIEL PUSHED AND PULLED THEM DUTIFULLY. THE HELICOPTER WENT INTO A TAILSPIN, AND SAM SWALLOWED DOWN A SHRIEK.
"STOP PRAYING," CASTIEL SCOLDED. "GOD IS NOT YOUR COPILOT, I AM. WHAT NOW?"
"I THINK NOW WE DIE!" SAM SAID. "OR I DO, AT LEAST. CAS, THERE'S SOMETHING I'VE GOTTA TELL YOU. I REALLY LIKE--"
SUDDENLY, THE HELICOPTER JERKED IN MID-AIR. A BEEFY HAND REACHED UP INTO THE CABIN, AND BOBBY PULLED HIMSELF UP INTO THE PILOT'S SEAT NEXT TO SAM, HIS HEAD COVERED IN A HELMET AND THE REST OF HIM WEARING A BRIGHT RED SPANDEX DAREDEVIL JUMPSUIT.
"BOBBY!" SAM CRIED. "HOW--"
"CANNON," BOBBY SAID GRUFFLY, AND BEGAN PUSHING DIALS AND WHATZAHOOZITS UNTIL THE HELICOPTER STABILIZED. SAM'S HEAD STOPPED SPINNING, AND HE SANK BACK IN HIS SEAT.
CASTIEL WATCHED BOBBY'S HANDS, FASCINATED. "BOBBY, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU KNEW HOW TO FLY A HELICOPTER."
"WHEN WILL YOU BOYS LEARN?" BOBBY SAID, STEERING THE HELICOPTER HOMEWARD. "I RULE. YOU'RE ALL A BUNCHA IDJITS."
SAM NODDED DUTIFULLY. THEN SOMETHING OCCURRED TO HIM. "CAS," HE SAID, "WHY DID YOU NEED TO LEARN TO FLY A HELICOPTER SO BADLY THAT YOU'D MOJO ME OUT INTO THE SKY AND RISK OUR VERY LIVES TO DO IT?"
"BECAUSE," CASTIEL SAID, GIVING HIM AN OBVIOUS LOOK, "HELICOPTERS ARE AWESOME."
-----------
From the mishaland ClaspCon "Storytime" post (spoiler for 5.08 "Changing Channels"):
GABRIEL GETTING CAS TO HELP HIM PLAY PRANKS ON THE OTHER ARCHANGELS
"C'MON, CASTIEL, DON'T YOU WANT TO BE BROTHERS AGAIN?"
THAT DID IT. CASTIEL RELENTED. "ALL RIGHT, GABRIEL, I'LL DO IT."
"CALL ME GABE."
"I'M NEVER CALLING YOU THAT."
"WHATEVER. HOLD THIS." GABRIEL SHOVED THE BOTTLE OF HOLY OIL INTO CASTIEL'S HANDS AND TOOK A BANANA FROM HIS POCKET. BENDING OVER WITH A CASUAL WHISTLE, HE STUFFED THE BANANA INTO THE TAILPIPE OF ZACHARIAH'S ANGEL-CAR. "NOW, HERE HE COMES! RUN!"
THE TWO OF THEM SPRINTED ACROSS THE STREET AND HID BEHIND A PARKED SUV. ZACHARIAH STRODE UP TO HIS ANGEL-CAR, WHICH HE USED ONLY RECREATIONALLY TO CUT OFF OTHER DRIVERS. WHEN HE TURNED ON THE IGNITION, THE CAR'S TAILPIPE POPPED AND FARTED, MAKING THE CAR PUT AWKWARDLY ABOUT. GABRIEL SNICKERED BEHIND HIS HAND, AND CASTIEL HAD TO JOIN IN.
"THAT WAS FUN," CASTIEL ADMITTED.
"THAT WAS JUST A TEST," SAID GABRIEL, ARCHING AN EYEBROW. “YOU READY TO MOVE UP TO THE BIG LEAGUES?”
CASTIEL FOUND HIMSELF INTRIGUED. “I AM INTRIGUED,” HE SAID.
“ARCHANGELS,” GABRIEL SAID.
CASTIEL PONDERED FOR A MOMENT WHAT DEAN WOULD SAY IN THIS SITUATION, AND THEN HE NODDED. “BADASS.”
AND SO THE TIME THAT WOULD COME TO BE KNOWN IN THE WINCHESTER GOSPEL AS THE AGE OF PRANKING BEGAN.
THEY SNUCK UPSTAIRS AND CHANGED THE MUSIC IN THE HEAVENLY ELEVATORS TO CREED.
CASTIEL FILLED RAPHAEL’S SUITE WITH ANGRY SQUIRRELS WHILE GABRIEL SWAPPED OUT MICHAEL’S TOOTHPASTE FOR VAGISIL.
THEY COLLABORATED ON USING THEIR ANGEL MOJO TO TURN ALL THE BOOZE IN HEAVEN INTO MELLOW YELLOW AND DECORATE THE THRONE ROOM WITH TALKING FISH PLAQUES. GABRIEL PROXIED INTO HEAVEN’S MAINFRAME TO SET EVERY COMPUTER’S HOMEPAGE TO GOATZE.
GABRIEL PAID DIFFERENT FORUMS OF 4CHAN TO PRAY THEIR HARDEST FOR SPECIFIC ARCHANGELS (MINUS HIMSELF) AND THEN SAY “WHOOPS, NEVERMIND” WHEN THEY SHOWED UP.
“I AM HAVING VERY GOOD TIME,” CASTIEL SAID AS THEY WALKED OUT OF THE GROCERY STORE WITH AN ARMFUL OF FRESH BANANAS.
“BROTHERS!” CRIED AN ANGRY VOICE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARKING LOT. THE ANGELS TURNED TO SEE RAPHAEL DOING HIS FLAMING ELECTRO-WING SHTICK RIGHT BY THE CART CORRAL. “YOU DARE PRANK ME?”
“WE DARE,” CASTIEL GROWLED.
“WHAT’S IT TO YA?” GABRIEL SPAT.
“IT’S DISCRIMINATION IS WHAT IT IS!” RAPHAEL SAID. “YOU’VE PRANKED ME WAY MORE THAN THE OTHER ARCHANGELS BECAUSE I’M BLACK!”
“YOU’RE NOT BLACK, YOU IDIOT,” GABRIEL SAID. “YOUR VESSEL IS BLACK. YOU’RE A GIANT DOUCHEY BALL OF LIGHT.”
“REGARDLESS,” CASTIEL PIPED UP, “WE HAVEN’T PRANKED YOU ANY MORE THAN THE OTHERS. I LIKE TO KEEP AN EXACT 1:1:1 RATIO OF PRANKING. I COULD SHOW YOU THE SPREADSHEET IF YOU LIKE.”
“I’LL TAKE YOUR SPREADSHEET AND SHOW IT TO YOUR FACE!” RAPHAEL CRIED. “WITH MY FIST! BECAUSE I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP!”
“I REALLY DON’T THINK SO,” GABRIEL REPLIED, FLICKING HIS LIGHTER ONTO THE PAVEMENT. THE CIRCLE OF HOLY OIL AT RAPHAEL’S FEET IGNITED, TRAPPING THE ARCHANGEL IN A BURNING RING OF FIRE.
“CURSES!” RAPHAEL WAILED. “HOW IS IT YOU REBELS ALWAYS KNOW EXACTLY WHERE I’M GOING TO STAND TO CONFRONT YOU?”
“WE DON’T,” CASTIEL ANSWERED. “WE JUST WALK AROUND MAKING HOLY OIL CIRCLES EVERYWHERE WE GO.”
“STUFF’S BASICALLY JUST VEGETABLE OIL AND FOOD COLORING.” GABRIEL SHRUGGED, THEN GRINNED WICKEDLY. “I GUESS THIS IS OUR PENULTIMATE PRANK, THEN - LEAVING YOU HERE.”
“NOT QUITE,” CASTIEL SAID, AND WITH A CLICK, A SECOND LIGHTER FELL TO THE GROUND, IGNITING A SECOND RING OF FIRE AROUND GABRIEL, JUST INCHES FROM RAPHAEL’S.
“WHAT-BUT-BROTHEEERRRRR,” GABRIEL WHINED.
CASTIEL LEANED IN TOWARD THE FLAMES, GIVING GABRIEL A GLARE. “YOU TORTURED ME WHILE YOU HAD MY FRIENDS TRAPPED IN TV LAND. FOR THAT, GABE, I HAVE TWO WORDS FOR YOU.” HE LOOKED THE ARCHANGEL DEAD IN THE EYE AND ENUNCIATED CLEARLY: “NEENER. NEENER.”
AND THEN CASTIEL BAMF-WALKED THE HELL OUT OF THE PARKING LOT, TAKING THE BANANAS WITH HIM.
THE END.
And that be the lot of 'em. Now I need to stop writing comment!fic for a while and focus on not failing at school. And writing dick jokes in Chuck!fic. Y'know, the necessities.
OH! AND! AND!
emerald_embers filled my request in the Stay Sassy meme, which totally made my day today! The prompt was "Sam gets trapped in another trickster time loop. This time, every time things between him and Castiel start to heat up, he comes in his pants and the day starts over." Because I am classiness incarnate.
In chronological order, with no promise of sanity...
From a random comment thread at mishaland:
FIC ABOUT SAM AND CAS MAKING OUT
SAM HATED DOING THE LAUNDRY FOR THREE REASONS.
ONE: DEAN NEVER DID HIS SHARE, HE JUST PILED HIS SKIDMARKED UNDIES IN THE PASSENGER SEAT OF THE IMPALA WHEN HE HAD SOME BAR SKANK OVER TO THE MOTEL ROOM, AN OH-SO-SUBTLE "AS LONG AS YOU'RE LOCKED OUT..." MESSAGE TO HIS LITTLE BROTHER.
TWO: SMALL-TOWN LAUNDROMATS SMELLED WEIRD. NOT OLD FOOD WEIRD, OR EVEN STALE SEX SHEETS WEIRD, BUT DESPERATION AND LINGERING HOSTILITY WEIRD. IT REMINDED HIM OF HIGH SCHOOL.
THREE: MOST OF THE TIME, SAM WOUND UP DOING LAUNDRY AT NIGHT. IN AN EMPTY LAUNDROMAT WITH FLORESCENT BULBS FLICKERING LIKE HORROR MOVIE SET DRESSINGS. SAM HATED TO ADMIT IT, HAVING LOOKED INTO THE FACE OF REAL EVIL HIMSELF, BUT HE STILL HAD A LINGERING CHILDHOOD FEAR OF EMPTY LAUNDROMATS. THEY JUST SEEMED HAUNTED. BLANK AISLES, CLANKING MACHINES IN DISREPAIR, MYSTERIOUS WHINES AND CLICKS. HE KNEW IT WAS RIDICULOUS, BUT A PART OF HIM THAT WAS STILL FIVE YEARS OLD AND HADN’T YET FOUND HIS DAD’S MONSTER JOURNAL INSISTED THAT LAUNDROMATS WERE THE CREEPIEST PLACES ON EARTH.
SAM WAS SITTING ALONE, KEEPING WATCH OVER HIS TUMBLING DARKS AND TRYING VERY HARD TO PUT HIS INNER FIVE-YEAR-OLD TO BED WHEN SOMETHING RUSTLED NEAR HIS HEAD. HE JUMPED, MAKING HIS CHAIR SHRIEK, AND NEARLY BANGED HIS HEAD ON THE NEAREST DRYER.
“SAM,” CASTIEL SAID.
“CHRIST!” SAM REPLIED. “YOU CAN’T CALL AHEAD?”
“I HAD NO NEED,” THE ANGEL SAID. “DEAN TOLD ME YOU WERE HERE.”
“I THOUGHT DEAN HAD A GIRL OVER.”
“HE DOES. SHE WAS…UNWELCOMING TO ME.” CASTIEL GAZED DOWN AT SAM AND TILTED HIS HEAD. “YOU LOOK FRIGHTENED.”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME!” SAM COULDN’T HELP IT. HE’D BEEN ON EDGE EVER SINCE LUCIFER HAD RISEN, BARELY HOLDING HIMSELF TOGETHER, AND HE HATED THE DEVIL FOR THAT. AND THE ANGELS WHO’D LET IT HAPPEN. AND MORE THAN ANYTHING, HIMSELF. “GODDAMNIT!” HE CRIED, HIS VOICE A LITTLE TOO HIGH. “THIS PLACE IS ALREADY WIGGING ME OUT ENOUGH WITHOUT YOUR FREAKY APPARATING TRICK AND BATMAN VOICE!”
“I APOLOGIZE. PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE CALLED AHEAD.” CASTIEL RAN A HAND ACROSS THE RUMBLING FRAME OF A WASHING MACHINE. “YOU FIND THIS PLACE UNSETTLING?”
“YES,” SAM SAID, SHRINKING IN ON HIMSELF. “IT’S JUST…WHEN I WAS A LITTLE KID, MY DAD USED TO LEAVE US IN PLACES LIKE THIS WHEN WE WERE ON THE ROAD. DEAN WOULD ALWAYS GO CHECK OUT THE ARCADE, SO IT WAS JUST ME, THE LAUNDRY, AND MY IMAGINATION.”
“THE STING OF ABANDONMENT MERGED WITH THE FEAR OF THE FACILITIES,” CASTIEL ASSESSED.
“YES. THANK YOU, DR. FREUD, I’M CURED,” SAM DEADPANNED.
“ANALYSIS ISN’T A CURE FOR FEAR,” CASTIEL SAID, TAKING A SEAT BESIDE HIM.
SAM STARED INTO THE ANGEL’S EYES. THERE WAS SOMETHING SO EARNEST ABOUT THEM - EARNEST AND YET INTENSE. ENGROSSING.
THE MACHINE BEHIND HIM GAVE A RUSTY CLANK, AND SAM JUMPED AGAIN, HIS HAND FLYING OUT AND GRIPPING CASTIEL’S COAT. STRUGGLING TO CATCH THE BREATH THAT WAS HOLDING TIGHT INSIDE HIS THROAT, HE LOOKED BACK TO THE ANGEL.
CASTIEL REGARDED HIS HAND, AND THEN HIS FACE ONCE MORE. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT DOES CURE CHILDHOOD FEARS?” HE LEANED FORWARD, SAM’S ARM CURLING BETWEEN THEM. HIS BREATH WARMING SAM’S CHIN, HE SAID, “OVERWRITING THE BAD MEMORIES WITH GOOD ONES.”
SAM’S LIPS PARTED SLIGHTLY, AND THEN CASTIEL CLOSED HIS OWN OVER THEM. THEY WERE WARMER THAN THE CLAMMY AIR OF THE LAUNDROMAT, AND DRY, AND POSSESSED OF A RHYTHM THAT DREW SAM INTO THE KISS WITHOUT PROTEST. HIS HAND GRIPPED CASTIEL’S COAT FOR A MINUTE, AND THEN IT SLID DOWN UNDER THE LAPELS AND EXPLORED THE CONTOURS OF HIS CHEST AND SIDES. CASTIEL DELVED HARDER INTO THE KISS AND PRESSED AGAINST HIM, HIS OWN HANDS TAKING INVENTORY OF THE BUTTONS AND SEAMS ON SAM’S SHIRT.
SAM PULLED CASTIEL CLOSER AGAINST HIMSELF, THEIR LEGS TANGLING AS THEIR HIPS STRUGGLED TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM. BEHIND HIM, THE CLANKING AND WHINING AND STRANGE NOISES OF THE LAUNDROMAT SEEMED TO FADE AWAY.
SAM SMELLED TIDE AND TASTED CASTIEL, AND HE WAS CERTAIN THAT LAUNDROMATS WOULD NEVER HOLD QUITE THE SAME ASSOCIATIONS FOR HIM AGAIN.
--------------------
From another random comment thread at mishaland where people were throwing out ship suggestions:
DEAN/HIS DAD'S JOURNAL
SUNLIGHT CASCADED THROUGH THE OPEN CURTAINS, WARMING THE LEATHER COVER OF THE JOURNAL TUCKED CLOSE AGAINST DEAN'S BELLY. HE STRETCHED, TAKING IN A LUNGFUL OF FRESH MORNING AIR, AND SNUGGLED CLOSER TO HIS FATHER'S MONSTER JOURNAL.
"G'MORNIN', BABY," THE HUNTER COOED, CARESSING THE SOFT CREASES OF THE JOURNAL'S COVER. HE TWIRLED A LEATHER STRAP AROUND ONE FINGER IDLY. "WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"MMM." DEAN STROKED THE EDGES OF ITS PAGES, WHICH WERE STUCK TOGETHER FROM 2002-2003. "WE SHOULD DO THIS AGAIN."
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"I THINK...I THINK I'M FEELING SOMETHING MORE HERE BETWEEN US," THE HUNTER CONFESSED, A MANLY TEAR OF HAPPINESS ROLLING DOWN ONE CHEEK. "SOMETHING REAL. DO YOU FEEL IT, TOO?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"JESUS, I'M SO HAPPY TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE," DEAN SAID, CLUTCHING THE JOURNAL TIGHTLY AGAINST HIM. DRAWING IT UP THE LENGTH OF HIS TORSO, LETTING THE CORNERS DIG LIGHTLY INTO HIS SKIN, HE BROUGHT THE JOURNAL TO HIS LIPS AND KISSED IT DEEPLY. IT TASTED OF LEATHER AND SLIGHTLY OF MOTOR OIL, WHICH REMINDED HIM OF HIS FATHER'S WEATHERED HANDS. HE PULLED BACK. "JOURNAL...DO YOU THINK THIS IS AN EXTENSION OF MY DADDY ISSUES?"
THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
"WELL FUCK YOU!" DEAN CRIED, TOSSING THE JOURNAL ACROSS THE BED. IT LANDED IN A MOROSE HEAP ON THE PILLOW, AND DEAN LEAPT OUT OF BED, PULLING ON HIS PANTS AND SHIRT. "THERE ARE PLENTY OF OTHER JOURNALS OUT THERE. JOURNALS THAT WON'T CONDESCEND TO ME AND NAG ME ABOUT MY DEEP-SEATED EMOTIONAL ISSUES! I'M GOING TO GO MAKE OUT WITH SAM'S LISA FRANK DIARY! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"
AND AS MUCH AS IT WANTED TO, THE JOURNAL DIDN'T SAY NO.
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From the superglee comment!fic meme,
Sue Sylvester/Uriel
Standing amidst the throngs of odiferous human children, with their canvas sacks full of unlearned knowledge and their absurdly small music listening devices, Uriel glowered. High school. What a perfect retreat to remind him of his mission. Man was truly his Father’s most foolish creation.
“Mud monkeys,” he hissed under his breath as a cluster of ninth graders skittered past like roaches. “Filth on legs.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” said a husky, powerful voice from the doorway beside him. Uriel glanced downward to find a blonde human woman echoing his stance, her arms shoved together across her chest and a glare written like the word of God across her sharp face. “You haven’t seen them in the locker rooms,” she said, and the way her voice curled around the syllables, embracing every iota of hatred, wrenched a smile from within him.
A human she may be, but clearly this was no ordinary human. Uriel found himself narrowing his eyes at her in a way he hadn’t in ages. He was waiting to hear her speak again. “Locker rooms?” he prompted, after a few seconds.
“Towels everywhere,” she spat, her lips twisting deliciously. “Shrieking and cursing, comparing asses like baboons. The modern locker room is the truest display humanity has that evolution was a lie invented to sell zoo memberships. There’s been no progress made in the last million years, except for the invention of plastics.”
That bile! That vengeful snuff of nostrils! Uriel felt warmth creep through his chest. It was a new sensation, not unlike the heat the righteous flames at Sodom and Gomorra had painted on his breastplate. “Plastics are indeed useful,” he agreed.
“So, what are you, the new Physics teacher?” The woman angled her head up, momentarily catching his eyes. Hers were as full of rage and defiance as his garrison was full of love for the Lord, and it filled Uriel with…damnation! Feelings! Just the other day he had been warning Castiel against the ridiculous things!
And yet, the warmth remained. Uriel opened his mouth and found he couldn’t lie to this human woman, this dagger amidst the sporks. “I am Uriel,” he said, his voice rumbling through the wall behind them, “angel of the Lord. Specialist. I smite your kind with pleasure.”
“Sue Sylvester,” the woman replied, giving him a casual nod. “Cheerleading coach. Editorial reporter. Smiting is a field I dabble in.”
The bell rang, and the children of man skittered off to class, the rhythm of their feet echoing through the hallways like so many cattle’s hooves on a slaughterhouse floor. Uriel smirked down at his companion, feeling. Affection soured his throat.
Sue Sylvester glared into his eyes for a long while as the last of the mud monkeys’ voices rebounded off the concrete. Then, with little more than a frown to warn him, she wrapped her stiff arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.
Uriel had never been kissed by a human, and his first urge was to recoil, but he could taste her wrath like a fine wine, and he relaxed into it, growling into her mouth. Sue Sylvester only growled back. And with that, he knew it to be true.
This was destiny. Together, they would smite the world of man.
Sue Sylvester bit his lip and pulled back. “Are you as turned on and pissed off as I am right now?”
“More,” Uriel said, looming over her. “Would you like to go copulate on the guidance counselor’s desk?”
Sue Sylvester narrowed her eyes at him again, then said in a harsh whisper, “On your back. Clothes on. Blinds open.”
“I agree to your terms.”
“Somebody get this man a protein shake!” Sue Sylvester called down the hallway, and took his hand, leading him toward their glorious future.
~Fin~
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From the Stay Sassy Sam/Castiel comment!fic meme (which is GLORIOUS):
Sam teaches Castiel to fly A HELICOPTER
"SAM!" CASTIEL BURST THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE MOTEL ROOM LIKE THE VERY HORDES OF HELL WERE ON HIS TAIL, AND BOTH WINCHESTER BROTHERS LEAPT UP, GRABBING VARIOUS IMPLEMENTS OF VIOLENCE JUST IN CASE.
"WHAT IS IT, CAS?" SAM SAID, RUSHING FORWARD.
"I NEED YOU TO TEACH ME TO FLY A HELICOPTER!" CASTIEL ANNOUNCED IMPORTANTLY.
NOW SAM, HE WAS SMART. HE WAS VERY, VERY SMART, IN FACT. BUT HE'D NEVER FLOWN A HELICOPTER. HE'D WATCHED COUNTLESS MOVIES WITH HELICOPTER PILOTS IN THEM, AND HE'D ONCE OWNED A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES LIKE A HELICOPTER PILOT'S, AND THAT WAS IT. BUT HE HAD SPECIAL FEELINGS IN THE GROIN FOR CASTIEL AND REALLY WANTED HIM TO THINK HE WAS COOL, SO HE SAID, "OH, IS THAT ALL? I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO DO SOMETHING DIFFICULT."
DEAN GAVE HIM THE SORT OF LOOK THAT SAID, "THIS WILL ONLY END IN YOU SOBBING INTO A PINT OF HAAGEN DAAS," BUT BEING A GOOD BROTHER, WHAT HE SAID WAS, "OH, YEAH, SAMMY HERE'S AN EXPERT HELICOPTER PILOT."
AND SO CASTIEL GRABBED SAM BY THE SHOULDER AND ANGEL MOJO'D HIM INTO A HELICOPTER THAT WAS IN MID-FLIGHT.
"WOAH," SAM SAID. "SHOULDN'T WE BE STARTING THIS LESSON ON THE GROUND?"
"THERE'S NO TIME," CASTIEL INSISTED. "WHAT DO WE DO NOW?"
"OKAY, UM--" SAM SURVEYED THE ARRAY OF BUTTONS, KNOBS, AND LEVERS. "UH, YOU PULL ON THIS THING TO STEER, I THINK. I MEAN, I KNOW, BECAUSE I'M COOL AND SMART."
"YOU ARE," CASTIEL AGREED, AND SAM FELT A LITTLE FLUTTER IN HIS STOMACH.
WHICH BECAME A BIG FLUTTER WHEN CASTIEL PUSHED ON THE THING HE'D POINTED TO AND THE HELICOPTER SWERVED SHARPLY TO THE RIGHT.
"WE'RE SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL!" CASTIEL CRIED. "WHAT NOW?"
"THE RED THINGY! OR--OR THE GREEN DOODAD! PUSH SOMETHING!"
THE HELICOPTER VEERED UPWARDS. THEN DOWNWARDS. THEN ITS BLADES STOPPED SPINNING. SAM BEGAN TO SHOUT RANDOM COLORS AND CATEGORIES OF THINGS ON THE DASHBOARD, AND CASTIEL PUSHED AND PULLED THEM DUTIFULLY. THE HELICOPTER WENT INTO A TAILSPIN, AND SAM SWALLOWED DOWN A SHRIEK.
"STOP PRAYING," CASTIEL SCOLDED. "GOD IS NOT YOUR COPILOT, I AM. WHAT NOW?"
"I THINK NOW WE DIE!" SAM SAID. "OR I DO, AT LEAST. CAS, THERE'S SOMETHING I'VE GOTTA TELL YOU. I REALLY LIKE--"
SUDDENLY, THE HELICOPTER JERKED IN MID-AIR. A BEEFY HAND REACHED UP INTO THE CABIN, AND BOBBY PULLED HIMSELF UP INTO THE PILOT'S SEAT NEXT TO SAM, HIS HEAD COVERED IN A HELMET AND THE REST OF HIM WEARING A BRIGHT RED SPANDEX DAREDEVIL JUMPSUIT.
"BOBBY!" SAM CRIED. "HOW--"
"CANNON," BOBBY SAID GRUFFLY, AND BEGAN PUSHING DIALS AND WHATZAHOOZITS UNTIL THE HELICOPTER STABILIZED. SAM'S HEAD STOPPED SPINNING, AND HE SANK BACK IN HIS SEAT.
CASTIEL WATCHED BOBBY'S HANDS, FASCINATED. "BOBBY, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU KNEW HOW TO FLY A HELICOPTER."
"WHEN WILL YOU BOYS LEARN?" BOBBY SAID, STEERING THE HELICOPTER HOMEWARD. "I RULE. YOU'RE ALL A BUNCHA IDJITS."
SAM NODDED DUTIFULLY. THEN SOMETHING OCCURRED TO HIM. "CAS," HE SAID, "WHY DID YOU NEED TO LEARN TO FLY A HELICOPTER SO BADLY THAT YOU'D MOJO ME OUT INTO THE SKY AND RISK OUR VERY LIVES TO DO IT?"
"BECAUSE," CASTIEL SAID, GIVING HIM AN OBVIOUS LOOK, "HELICOPTERS ARE AWESOME."
-----------
From the mishaland ClaspCon "Storytime" post (spoiler for 5.08 "Changing Channels"):
GABRIEL GETTING CAS TO HELP HIM PLAY PRANKS ON THE OTHER ARCHANGELS
"C'MON, CASTIEL, DON'T YOU WANT TO BE BROTHERS AGAIN?"
THAT DID IT. CASTIEL RELENTED. "ALL RIGHT, GABRIEL, I'LL DO IT."
"CALL ME GABE."
"I'M NEVER CALLING YOU THAT."
"WHATEVER. HOLD THIS." GABRIEL SHOVED THE BOTTLE OF HOLY OIL INTO CASTIEL'S HANDS AND TOOK A BANANA FROM HIS POCKET. BENDING OVER WITH A CASUAL WHISTLE, HE STUFFED THE BANANA INTO THE TAILPIPE OF ZACHARIAH'S ANGEL-CAR. "NOW, HERE HE COMES! RUN!"
THE TWO OF THEM SPRINTED ACROSS THE STREET AND HID BEHIND A PARKED SUV. ZACHARIAH STRODE UP TO HIS ANGEL-CAR, WHICH HE USED ONLY RECREATIONALLY TO CUT OFF OTHER DRIVERS. WHEN HE TURNED ON THE IGNITION, THE CAR'S TAILPIPE POPPED AND FARTED, MAKING THE CAR PUT AWKWARDLY ABOUT. GABRIEL SNICKERED BEHIND HIS HAND, AND CASTIEL HAD TO JOIN IN.
"THAT WAS FUN," CASTIEL ADMITTED.
"THAT WAS JUST A TEST," SAID GABRIEL, ARCHING AN EYEBROW. “YOU READY TO MOVE UP TO THE BIG LEAGUES?”
CASTIEL FOUND HIMSELF INTRIGUED. “I AM INTRIGUED,” HE SAID.
“ARCHANGELS,” GABRIEL SAID.
CASTIEL PONDERED FOR A MOMENT WHAT DEAN WOULD SAY IN THIS SITUATION, AND THEN HE NODDED. “BADASS.”
AND SO THE TIME THAT WOULD COME TO BE KNOWN IN THE WINCHESTER GOSPEL AS THE AGE OF PRANKING BEGAN.
THEY SNUCK UPSTAIRS AND CHANGED THE MUSIC IN THE HEAVENLY ELEVATORS TO CREED.
CASTIEL FILLED RAPHAEL’S SUITE WITH ANGRY SQUIRRELS WHILE GABRIEL SWAPPED OUT MICHAEL’S TOOTHPASTE FOR VAGISIL.
THEY COLLABORATED ON USING THEIR ANGEL MOJO TO TURN ALL THE BOOZE IN HEAVEN INTO MELLOW YELLOW AND DECORATE THE THRONE ROOM WITH TALKING FISH PLAQUES. GABRIEL PROXIED INTO HEAVEN’S MAINFRAME TO SET EVERY COMPUTER’S HOMEPAGE TO GOATZE.
GABRIEL PAID DIFFERENT FORUMS OF 4CHAN TO PRAY THEIR HARDEST FOR SPECIFIC ARCHANGELS (MINUS HIMSELF) AND THEN SAY “WHOOPS, NEVERMIND” WHEN THEY SHOWED UP.
“I AM HAVING VERY GOOD TIME,” CASTIEL SAID AS THEY WALKED OUT OF THE GROCERY STORE WITH AN ARMFUL OF FRESH BANANAS.
“BROTHERS!” CRIED AN ANGRY VOICE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARKING LOT. THE ANGELS TURNED TO SEE RAPHAEL DOING HIS FLAMING ELECTRO-WING SHTICK RIGHT BY THE CART CORRAL. “YOU DARE PRANK ME?”
“WE DARE,” CASTIEL GROWLED.
“WHAT’S IT TO YA?” GABRIEL SPAT.
“IT’S DISCRIMINATION IS WHAT IT IS!” RAPHAEL SAID. “YOU’VE PRANKED ME WAY MORE THAN THE OTHER ARCHANGELS BECAUSE I’M BLACK!”
“YOU’RE NOT BLACK, YOU IDIOT,” GABRIEL SAID. “YOUR VESSEL IS BLACK. YOU’RE A GIANT DOUCHEY BALL OF LIGHT.”
“REGARDLESS,” CASTIEL PIPED UP, “WE HAVEN’T PRANKED YOU ANY MORE THAN THE OTHERS. I LIKE TO KEEP AN EXACT 1:1:1 RATIO OF PRANKING. I COULD SHOW YOU THE SPREADSHEET IF YOU LIKE.”
“I’LL TAKE YOUR SPREADSHEET AND SHOW IT TO YOUR FACE!” RAPHAEL CRIED. “WITH MY FIST! BECAUSE I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP!”
“I REALLY DON’T THINK SO,” GABRIEL REPLIED, FLICKING HIS LIGHTER ONTO THE PAVEMENT. THE CIRCLE OF HOLY OIL AT RAPHAEL’S FEET IGNITED, TRAPPING THE ARCHANGEL IN A BURNING RING OF FIRE.
“CURSES!” RAPHAEL WAILED. “HOW IS IT YOU REBELS ALWAYS KNOW EXACTLY WHERE I’M GOING TO STAND TO CONFRONT YOU?”
“WE DON’T,” CASTIEL ANSWERED. “WE JUST WALK AROUND MAKING HOLY OIL CIRCLES EVERYWHERE WE GO.”
“STUFF’S BASICALLY JUST VEGETABLE OIL AND FOOD COLORING.” GABRIEL SHRUGGED, THEN GRINNED WICKEDLY. “I GUESS THIS IS OUR PENULTIMATE PRANK, THEN - LEAVING YOU HERE.”
“NOT QUITE,” CASTIEL SAID, AND WITH A CLICK, A SECOND LIGHTER FELL TO THE GROUND, IGNITING A SECOND RING OF FIRE AROUND GABRIEL, JUST INCHES FROM RAPHAEL’S.
“WHAT-BUT-BROTHEEERRRRR,” GABRIEL WHINED.
CASTIEL LEANED IN TOWARD THE FLAMES, GIVING GABRIEL A GLARE. “YOU TORTURED ME WHILE YOU HAD MY FRIENDS TRAPPED IN TV LAND. FOR THAT, GABE, I HAVE TWO WORDS FOR YOU.” HE LOOKED THE ARCHANGEL DEAD IN THE EYE AND ENUNCIATED CLEARLY: “NEENER. NEENER.”
AND THEN CASTIEL BAMF-WALKED THE HELL OUT OF THE PARKING LOT, TAKING THE BANANAS WITH HIM.
THE END.
And that be the lot of 'em. Now I need to stop writing comment!fic for a while and focus on not failing at school. And writing dick jokes in Chuck!fic. Y'know, the necessities.
OH! AND! AND!
emerald_embers filled my request in the Stay Sassy meme, which totally made my day today! The prompt was "Sam gets trapped in another trickster time loop. This time, every time things between him and Castiel start to heat up, he comes in his pants and the day starts over." Because I am classiness incarnate.