[fic post] What Happens on Off Days
Title: What Happens on Off Days
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Pairings or Characters: Sam, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: none
Word Count: 886
Summary: Sam is bewildered, Dean is distressed, and Cas is to blame.
Author Notes: For smileydoll. I know Dean/Cas isn't your favorite, and I probably won't be able to persuade you over to the dark side (even with cookies), but I thought Sam might be able to. Technically not my first Supernatural fic, but that one was posted at mishaland and I have so far been too lazy to de-CAPSLOCK it. Hope you like anyway, Kat! <3
What Happens on Off Days
Sam wakes up when Dean slams the door to the motel room open at six thirty in the morning looking particularly distressed.
"Dean? What's-- Where were you?"
"Uh, coffee. I went to get coffee."
"... And you didn't bring me any?"
"No I didn't bring you any," Dean huffs, stomping across the room to his bed. It looks like he made it before heading out for coffee, but knowing Dean, Sam figures he never slept in it last night. While Dean's rummaging around his bag for a change of clothes, Sam pushes himself out of bed and stretches. They aren't on a hunt, and why Dean's coming back from who-knows-where at six thirty and storming around like he's either panicking or sulking, Sam has little idea. But he's already up, and since Dean didn't bring back coffee -- and likely never went out for it in the first place -- he pulls on some sweats and heads for the door.
Stepping outside, he's hit with the briskness of morning, which helps get rid of the last of his sleepiness. It also makes seeing Cas, naked and disheveled in the backseat of the Impala, a bewildering sight that he can't pass off as a side-effect of still being half-asleep.
"Uh... Dean?" Sam calls back at the motel room, unable to tear his eyes from the angel staring blankly back at him through the windshield of the car.
"What," Dean barks as he pops his head out of the door before he glances at his baby and spots Cas as well. Even with only his head and one shoulder visible, Sam notices him tense up immediately at the sight.
"... Care to explain?"
"No."
"Dude, did you molest your angel?"
Sam winces as he says the words, because holy crap are they utterly bizarre rolling off his tongue.
"... I, uh, don't... No. No, I couldn't have--"
Suddenly, Castiel is no longer in the backseat of the Impala and is instead standing between them, barely covered by his trench coat and little else.
"Good morning, Dean. Sam."
"Er, morning," Sam replies awkwardly, forcing his eyes to remain above Cas's waistline. Dean just stares blankly back.
"I apologize for waking you so early, Dean. It is merely that, after those hours having rigorous--"
"WOAH," both Winchesters holler, fearing the word about to come out of the angel's mouth and briefly drowning Castiel out.
"-- I wondered if you would have gotten uncomfortable lying on me in that position for too long and thought perhaps you might be more comfortable sleeping in a bed," he finishes, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all.
Sam glances between the two of them, and realizes neither are paying him the slightest bit of attention. Which, really, is a blessing in this situation and he quickly darts away to find some coffee, or perhaps some alcohol. It had to be cocktail hour somewhere in the world, right? He stalls as long as he possibly can, finishing his coffee in the shop instead of returning to the motel and getting a second cup and a bagel just to be on the safe side. He picks up a newspaper on his way back, opting to take the long way around the block, and arrives to no nearly-naked Castiel in either the Impala or the motel room, and an only mildly irritated Dean meandering around.
"So, uh..." he mumbles, not really sure how to bring up this particular topic. Dean stops wandering to lean against the room table and make awkward hand gestures.
"Looks like Cas and I, uh... Last night we may have... I might have just... Jesus, how the hell do I do this?" Dean groans, running his hands through his hair.
"Dean, did you really--? I mean, with Cas?"
"I think, uh, yeah. Yeah I did."
"Why?"
"Well, I was pretty drunk, and he just kind of snuck up on me. You know how he does that," Dean shrugs.
"Dude! He's an angel. You can't just have a fling with one of God's soldiers. That'll really get you sent to Hell. Again!" Sam cries, disbelieving.
"Hey, it's not a fling, it's--" Dean starts to protest immediately before cutting himself off, but he's already admitted more than enough.
"Oh," Sam blinks, momentarily stunned. "Oh."
"Don't give me that look," Dean glares, folding his arms over his chest and putting on his best sulking face.
"No, no, that's good. Great, actually," Sam laughs. Dean furrows his eyebrows and tells him to shut up, but he continues. "If your intentions were pure, you should've just said so from the start. And, hey man, it's cool. You can love whoever you want. No discrimination here. I'm proud of you, big bro."
"Seriously, Sammy. Knock it off," Dean warns, but Sam's having far too much fun.
"And it was really considerate of you to, uh, 'do your thing' in the Impala instead of the motel room. Now that would've been awkward. Since you were drunk, I suppose it's Cas I have to thank for that. Unless... you have a thing for angel seeding in the backseat?"
"Hate you. Hate you," Dean growls before grabbing the car keys off the table beside him and storming out of the motel room, leaving a laughing Sam behind.
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Pairings or Characters: Sam, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: none
Word Count: 886
Summary: Sam is bewildered, Dean is distressed, and Cas is to blame.
Author Notes: For smileydoll. I know Dean/Cas isn't your favorite, and I probably won't be able to persuade you over to the dark side (even with cookies), but I thought Sam might be able to. Technically not my first Supernatural fic, but that one was posted at mishaland and I have so far been too lazy to de-CAPSLOCK it. Hope you like anyway, Kat! <3
What Happens on Off Days
Sam wakes up when Dean slams the door to the motel room open at six thirty in the morning looking particularly distressed.
"Dean? What's-- Where were you?"
"Uh, coffee. I went to get coffee."
"... And you didn't bring me any?"
"No I didn't bring you any," Dean huffs, stomping across the room to his bed. It looks like he made it before heading out for coffee, but knowing Dean, Sam figures he never slept in it last night. While Dean's rummaging around his bag for a change of clothes, Sam pushes himself out of bed and stretches. They aren't on a hunt, and why Dean's coming back from who-knows-where at six thirty and storming around like he's either panicking or sulking, Sam has little idea. But he's already up, and since Dean didn't bring back coffee -- and likely never went out for it in the first place -- he pulls on some sweats and heads for the door.
Stepping outside, he's hit with the briskness of morning, which helps get rid of the last of his sleepiness. It also makes seeing Cas, naked and disheveled in the backseat of the Impala, a bewildering sight that he can't pass off as a side-effect of still being half-asleep.
"Uh... Dean?" Sam calls back at the motel room, unable to tear his eyes from the angel staring blankly back at him through the windshield of the car.
"What," Dean barks as he pops his head out of the door before he glances at his baby and spots Cas as well. Even with only his head and one shoulder visible, Sam notices him tense up immediately at the sight.
"... Care to explain?"
"No."
"Dude, did you molest your angel?"
Sam winces as he says the words, because holy crap are they utterly bizarre rolling off his tongue.
"... I, uh, don't... No. No, I couldn't have--"
Suddenly, Castiel is no longer in the backseat of the Impala and is instead standing between them, barely covered by his trench coat and little else.
"Good morning, Dean. Sam."
"Er, morning," Sam replies awkwardly, forcing his eyes to remain above Cas's waistline. Dean just stares blankly back.
"I apologize for waking you so early, Dean. It is merely that, after those hours having rigorous--"
"WOAH," both Winchesters holler, fearing the word about to come out of the angel's mouth and briefly drowning Castiel out.
"-- I wondered if you would have gotten uncomfortable lying on me in that position for too long and thought perhaps you might be more comfortable sleeping in a bed," he finishes, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all.
Sam glances between the two of them, and realizes neither are paying him the slightest bit of attention. Which, really, is a blessing in this situation and he quickly darts away to find some coffee, or perhaps some alcohol. It had to be cocktail hour somewhere in the world, right? He stalls as long as he possibly can, finishing his coffee in the shop instead of returning to the motel and getting a second cup and a bagel just to be on the safe side. He picks up a newspaper on his way back, opting to take the long way around the block, and arrives to no nearly-naked Castiel in either the Impala or the motel room, and an only mildly irritated Dean meandering around.
"So, uh..." he mumbles, not really sure how to bring up this particular topic. Dean stops wandering to lean against the room table and make awkward hand gestures.
"Looks like Cas and I, uh... Last night we may have... I might have just... Jesus, how the hell do I do this?" Dean groans, running his hands through his hair.
"Dean, did you really--? I mean, with Cas?"
"I think, uh, yeah. Yeah I did."
"Why?"
"Well, I was pretty drunk, and he just kind of snuck up on me. You know how he does that," Dean shrugs.
"Dude! He's an angel. You can't just have a fling with one of God's soldiers. That'll really get you sent to Hell. Again!" Sam cries, disbelieving.
"Hey, it's not a fling, it's--" Dean starts to protest immediately before cutting himself off, but he's already admitted more than enough.
"Oh," Sam blinks, momentarily stunned. "Oh."
"Don't give me that look," Dean glares, folding his arms over his chest and putting on his best sulking face.
"No, no, that's good. Great, actually," Sam laughs. Dean furrows his eyebrows and tells him to shut up, but he continues. "If your intentions were pure, you should've just said so from the start. And, hey man, it's cool. You can love whoever you want. No discrimination here. I'm proud of you, big bro."
"Seriously, Sammy. Knock it off," Dean warns, but Sam's having far too much fun.
"And it was really considerate of you to, uh, 'do your thing' in the Impala instead of the motel room. Now that would've been awkward. Since you were drunk, I suppose it's Cas I have to thank for that. Unless... you have a thing for angel seeding in the backseat?"
"Hate you. Hate you," Dean growls before grabbing the car keys off the table beside him and storming out of the motel room, leaving a laughing Sam behind.