(no subject)
The first of the holiday fics I promised to people! This one is for omnivorously, who said it was very clever and that makes me extremely happy. :D :D :D
Title: Only Look Up Clear
Author: next-muffin, with a bit of help from oldstarnewshine and lellenator
Fandoms: Supernatural, Macbeth
Word Count: 1,224
Warning: Based off of SPN S05E03, but no actual spoilers. Helps to have seen the ep, though. Also, as always, lol crack.
Summary: Castiel + brothel + Shakespeare in disguise.
“This is a den of inequity. I should not be here.”
Castiel glared at Dean from across the table, half out of anger and half out of trying to see through the dimmed lights. He tried to drown out the noise of those around him - the thoughts of perverts, the inner desires of adulterers, and the presence of other sinners. He knew it was useless to protest - as Dean said, it would be his last day on earth, and he could no longer hide behind the persistent innocence of being an angel, having been cast out of heaven.
Dean responded, but Castiel did not hear it; he was suddenly focused on the woman approaching their table. Although she was not wearing much, Castiel could not help but stare at her, noting the confidence that exuded from her purposeful stride and alluring smile.
She was looking back at him expectantly - did she say something? He did not hear her - she was drowned out - the thoughts - the desires - the looks - Dean said his name - the alcohol - the woman said something about chastity - more alcohol - it was too much, and suddenly she was touching Castiel, taking his hand, leading him through the swarm of heretics, deeper into the heart of the den.
Castiel made it to the woman’s bedroom, even though her frequent smiles and batted eyelashes as she led him provided countless incentives for the angel to leave. He tried to justify his impending actions to himself - if anything, he was using the last of his time to help Dean, by satisfying his carnal whims. He could do this much for him. He should do this much for him.
He had not realized that he had closed his eyes until they opened, revealing the woman’s bedroom. He had not seen the other rooms, so he did not know if their styles differed, but, judging by the décor in this, he was sure they did; he had not seen decorations such as these since the 14th or 15th century, making him feel like he was back in the Renaissance, if the Renaissance used this much plaid. He was not sure if he was or was not fond of this feeling.
“So, Cas,” the woman began playfully, fingering the collar of Castiel’s trench coat as she led him towards the bed. “I’m excited to… get to know you tonight, but there’s a little favor I’d like, in return.” The corners of her smile grew taller, but a malicious gleam to her eyes dampened any sweetness she might have been striving for.
Castiel, eyes still narrowed in horror and embarrassment, reached into his coat pocket. “I- I” - he was surprised that he was audible - “I have this.” He pulled out the wad of hundred dollar bills that Dean had handed him.
She reached for the bundle, but closed around his hand instead, pushing it away from her and towards her chest. “That’s not it.” She leaned forward without loosening her grip on his hands, locking eyes with him. “I know what you are, Castiel, and you must do something for me.”
Castiel tilted his head quizzically. “What do you mean?” She released her hands and stood up, raising her chin and pushing her shoulders back so she could attain her full height and stature.
“I called upon the powers of Heaven to unsex me, remove whatever confidence and bravery I had and bestow it upon my husband, so that he may find the strength he somehow did not have and thus win for us the crown.” She spoke with a snarl, her nostrils flaring on every plosive.
“I am not sure I am familiar with your situation; prayers do not work as you probably think they do-”
“Cut the crap!” she interjected. Bending down and resting her hands on his knees, she brought her face close to his and glared. “I gave up everything. My honor, my self-respect, my morals, all so that I may lead my husband to greatness. I assumed that in return I would be relieved of the qualities that define my sex. Alas, I remain burdened with them, and I demand that you remove them!”
With a static expression, Castiel continued, “Regardless, I cannot help you; my position in Heaven has changed and even if it had not I would not be able to provide the-”
“I still desire sex!” she cried, and began pacing. “How can I dangle it in front of my husband and refuse him it when I so crave it myself?”
“Please. Calm down.” Castiel had moved from the bed, meeting her where she wandered on the other side of the small room, and took her shoulders so that he could meet her gaze. “I do not understand. I thought that the need for physical intimacy was commonplace, and welcomed.” He tried to think of what Dean would make of the situation - he was sure that Dean would see no problem in this woman’s complaints.
“Of course you would welcome it,” she spat, “but I - I fall down under the weight of the limitations imposed on me. How can I lead my husband to greatness when my thoughts are flooded with that which I would rather ignore? A Thane of Glamis and Cawdor he is now - I would call him the Thane of Ineptitude, with how he shies away from the greatness he is so close to achieving!
Castiel tilted his head. “Why don’t you achieve it yourself?”
“Excuse me?”
“It is clear that you know what needs to be done to reach whatever goal you have. Instead of leading your husband to it, why not do it yourself?”
The woman stopped pacing. She glared at Castiel - not with anger, but the hard gaze of someone lost in thought - and let her eyes drop down to her now-outstretched hands. The mental vision appeared for only a moment, but Castiel could not deny what he saw when he, too, stared at her hands - the blood, pooling in her palms and dripping down through her fingers and to her clothes and the floor, warm and fresh but not hers. It was not real for that moment, but it would be, eventually, as real as the hairs rising on the back of Castiel’s neck and arms.
The glare turned into a smile. “I can do that. I will do that.” She strode towards the door and went to exit, but paused to say to Castiel, “The future King and Queen of Scotland thank you,” before leaving, letting out what could only be a shrill war cry, accompanied by cursing towards the man whose life Castiel knew he just indirectly ended.
Perhaps it was that he felt some joy in having helped someone, despite their intentions, or that the encounter had not quite sunk in, but Castiel felt neither guilt nor shame in having influenced the lady as he did.
As she left the hallway connecting all of the bedrooms, Dean entered. “What the hell did you do?” he demanded.
And perhaps it was that he recognized that he already did wrong, and thus could do more, or that he simply did not know what he did, or even that he, too, was trying to work towards some goal, but Castiel answered with the first thing he could think of: a lie.
Title: Only Look Up Clear
Author: next-muffin, with a bit of help from oldstarnewshine and lellenator
Fandoms: Supernatural, Macbeth
Word Count: 1,224
Warning: Based off of SPN S05E03, but no actual spoilers. Helps to have seen the ep, though. Also, as always, lol crack.
Summary: Castiel + brothel + Shakespeare in disguise.
“This is a den of inequity. I should not be here.”
Castiel glared at Dean from across the table, half out of anger and half out of trying to see through the dimmed lights. He tried to drown out the noise of those around him - the thoughts of perverts, the inner desires of adulterers, and the presence of other sinners. He knew it was useless to protest - as Dean said, it would be his last day on earth, and he could no longer hide behind the persistent innocence of being an angel, having been cast out of heaven.
Dean responded, but Castiel did not hear it; he was suddenly focused on the woman approaching their table. Although she was not wearing much, Castiel could not help but stare at her, noting the confidence that exuded from her purposeful stride and alluring smile.
She was looking back at him expectantly - did she say something? He did not hear her - she was drowned out - the thoughts - the desires - the looks - Dean said his name - the alcohol - the woman said something about chastity - more alcohol - it was too much, and suddenly she was touching Castiel, taking his hand, leading him through the swarm of heretics, deeper into the heart of the den.
Castiel made it to the woman’s bedroom, even though her frequent smiles and batted eyelashes as she led him provided countless incentives for the angel to leave. He tried to justify his impending actions to himself - if anything, he was using the last of his time to help Dean, by satisfying his carnal whims. He could do this much for him. He should do this much for him.
He had not realized that he had closed his eyes until they opened, revealing the woman’s bedroom. He had not seen the other rooms, so he did not know if their styles differed, but, judging by the décor in this, he was sure they did; he had not seen decorations such as these since the 14th or 15th century, making him feel like he was back in the Renaissance, if the Renaissance used this much plaid. He was not sure if he was or was not fond of this feeling.
“So, Cas,” the woman began playfully, fingering the collar of Castiel’s trench coat as she led him towards the bed. “I’m excited to… get to know you tonight, but there’s a little favor I’d like, in return.” The corners of her smile grew taller, but a malicious gleam to her eyes dampened any sweetness she might have been striving for.
Castiel, eyes still narrowed in horror and embarrassment, reached into his coat pocket. “I- I” - he was surprised that he was audible - “I have this.” He pulled out the wad of hundred dollar bills that Dean had handed him.
She reached for the bundle, but closed around his hand instead, pushing it away from her and towards her chest. “That’s not it.” She leaned forward without loosening her grip on his hands, locking eyes with him. “I know what you are, Castiel, and you must do something for me.”
Castiel tilted his head quizzically. “What do you mean?” She released her hands and stood up, raising her chin and pushing her shoulders back so she could attain her full height and stature.
“I called upon the powers of Heaven to unsex me, remove whatever confidence and bravery I had and bestow it upon my husband, so that he may find the strength he somehow did not have and thus win for us the crown.” She spoke with a snarl, her nostrils flaring on every plosive.
“I am not sure I am familiar with your situation; prayers do not work as you probably think they do-”
“Cut the crap!” she interjected. Bending down and resting her hands on his knees, she brought her face close to his and glared. “I gave up everything. My honor, my self-respect, my morals, all so that I may lead my husband to greatness. I assumed that in return I would be relieved of the qualities that define my sex. Alas, I remain burdened with them, and I demand that you remove them!”
With a static expression, Castiel continued, “Regardless, I cannot help you; my position in Heaven has changed and even if it had not I would not be able to provide the-”
“I still desire sex!” she cried, and began pacing. “How can I dangle it in front of my husband and refuse him it when I so crave it myself?”
“Please. Calm down.” Castiel had moved from the bed, meeting her where she wandered on the other side of the small room, and took her shoulders so that he could meet her gaze. “I do not understand. I thought that the need for physical intimacy was commonplace, and welcomed.” He tried to think of what Dean would make of the situation - he was sure that Dean would see no problem in this woman’s complaints.
“Of course you would welcome it,” she spat, “but I - I fall down under the weight of the limitations imposed on me. How can I lead my husband to greatness when my thoughts are flooded with that which I would rather ignore? A Thane of Glamis and Cawdor he is now - I would call him the Thane of Ineptitude, with how he shies away from the greatness he is so close to achieving!
Castiel tilted his head. “Why don’t you achieve it yourself?”
“Excuse me?”
“It is clear that you know what needs to be done to reach whatever goal you have. Instead of leading your husband to it, why not do it yourself?”
The woman stopped pacing. She glared at Castiel - not with anger, but the hard gaze of someone lost in thought - and let her eyes drop down to her now-outstretched hands. The mental vision appeared for only a moment, but Castiel could not deny what he saw when he, too, stared at her hands - the blood, pooling in her palms and dripping down through her fingers and to her clothes and the floor, warm and fresh but not hers. It was not real for that moment, but it would be, eventually, as real as the hairs rising on the back of Castiel’s neck and arms.
The glare turned into a smile. “I can do that. I will do that.” She strode towards the door and went to exit, but paused to say to Castiel, “The future King and Queen of Scotland thank you,” before leaving, letting out what could only be a shrill war cry, accompanied by cursing towards the man whose life Castiel knew he just indirectly ended.
Perhaps it was that he felt some joy in having helped someone, despite their intentions, or that the encounter had not quite sunk in, but Castiel felt neither guilt nor shame in having influenced the lady as he did.
As she left the hallway connecting all of the bedrooms, Dean entered. “What the hell did you do?” he demanded.
And perhaps it was that he recognized that he already did wrong, and thus could do more, or that he simply did not know what he did, or even that he, too, was trying to work towards some goal, but Castiel answered with the first thing he could think of: a lie.