fic: various ficlets from ontd_spnparty prompts
For sidium, for the prompt "Dean/Cas, music":
Dean knows that there's nothing planned today, and that there's no reason for him to be awake at the ass crack of dawn. Except he can hear a phone going off, the opening rift of Travelling Riverside Blues and he can't tell where it's coming from.
There's a scuffling noise from the other side of the bed, and Dean raises his head in time to catch Cas' low murmur, a confused apology before he hangs up and starts to slide back under the covers. Castiel freezes when he sees Dean watching him, and Dean can't tell if it's the sun breaking through the blinds or if Castiel is actually blushing in front of him.
"What was that?" Dean reaches out to tug on Cas' forearm, trying to get him back into bed.
"Umm. A telemarketer, I think. He asked about my plan, but didn't seem to want to hear about the Gospel."
Dean snorts out a laugh. "Is that a new ringtone?"
Cas moves closer in, now fully under the covers and retangling his legs with Dean's. He nuzzles in to Dean's shoulder before blinking up at him. "It's what you like to wake up to."
"Mmmm," Dean sleepily agrees before reaching over Cas and fiddling with the phone, turning it off. "There are other ways I like to wake up too." He's about to drift back asleep, arm sprawled across Cas' belly when he hears a low chuckle.
"Oh, I know about those too."
For gleeker13: for the prompt "try to explain this picture" (under the cut):
Dean sighed as he slumped back against the driver's seat, fingers rattling out a beat on the steering wheel. He had driven all night to get here, had to make it right as the sun breached the mountaintops or some such shit. Mythological quests seemed to take a more poetic license with their instructions, which pissed him off to no end.
He could see them out in the meadow, disappearing for brief moments in the tall grass, only to pop up in a completely new area. Reminded Dean of that Whack-a-Mole game at the arcades he would take Sammy, when they were younger and Sam still needed a footstool to reach the ones in the back.
Now though, Sam's size was a welcomed relief, allowing Dean to easily track him through the field. Sam and Cas were both wearing something on their heads - flowers, Dean realized, after pulling out his binoculars. Fucking daisy chains.
After several minutes, Dean finally sees a method to the madness, as it turns out Sam's chasing Castiel around with a pink plastic toy. Doesn't explain the madness, but at least it's a step in the right direction. Dean gets out of the Impala, double checking his body for the usual assortment of weapons and holy water. Lots of holy water this time.
"You're not going to need all that." Gabriel's voice catches him off guard, and Dean glares at him, staring him down.
"Oh come on," Gabe rolls his eyes. "You gotta admit, the pony's a great touch."
For cecilylee, for the prompt "Dean/Cas: CUTEANGST CUDDLES OVER GODHUMAN SHIT":
"Is this what humanity feels like?" Cas is on his back, head tipped back over the edge of the bed.
Dean grins before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Cas' exposed throat. "Part of it, I guess." He takes in the empty bottle by Cas' bed. "I think we can chalk this up to having finally found liquor that affects you." Dean sits down on the bed, propping himself against the headboard, limbs loose as Cas rolls over to curl around him.
"Dean?" Cas sounds melancholy, and Dean twists around to look down at him. "Do you think God is still there, watching over everything?"
Dean takes a swig from his own bottle. Not a habit he's particularly pleased to have exposed Cas to, but it's not like Cas didn't already know. Dean finds comfort in the bottle and Castiel finds comfort in him and the sun still rises in the morning and they still drive off into the sunset.
"Maybe not everything all the time." Dean tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, and he can swear there's a rabbit up there somewhere in the water stains. "Maybe he has a naughty list and a nice list and he ignores everyone neutral." Dean wants to add, like on Project Runway but even he's not drunk enough to admit to that. Even if he was sick and drunk on NyQuil at the time.
"So, my Father has been replaced by a man in a fat suit who only shows up when I behave?"
Dean bites his tongue, doing his best to think before he speaks.
"No, not really like that. Santa's to your dad as you and I are to real FBI agents. We may not be the real deal, but our presence provides comfort and answers people might not otherwise get." Dean checks the label of the bottle he's drinking from. Whatever it is, it makes him the most coherent drunk he's ever been, which is knowledge worth clinging to.
"So if I want to ever see my Father, I should make a list and behave myself?" Cas' voice is slowing down, his fingers curling in the loose fabric of the sweat pants Dean's wearing.
"I thought that's what got you in trouble in the first place." Dean tries and keeps his voice light, fingers tangling in Cas' hair. Cas' breathing starts to even out, a slow steady rhythm that starts to tip Dean into sleep. He scoots down the bed, twisting around to face Cas and press up next to him.
"Whaddo I do though?" The alcohol slurs Cas' speech, but his eyes are wide as he looks at Dean, and Dean can feel his heart skip. He still remembers how he fucked up Christmas for Sammy, and he doesn't want to do that to Cas. Not when Santa is God and Cas is starting to completely drift away.
"Sometimes just the smallest bit of faith is enough to keep bringing them back, Cas." That seems to satisfy him, a soft noise escaping as Cas presses closer and Dean wraps an arm around his waist, holding him tight.
Dean knows that there's nothing planned today, and that there's no reason for him to be awake at the ass crack of dawn. Except he can hear a phone going off, the opening rift of Travelling Riverside Blues and he can't tell where it's coming from.
There's a scuffling noise from the other side of the bed, and Dean raises his head in time to catch Cas' low murmur, a confused apology before he hangs up and starts to slide back under the covers. Castiel freezes when he sees Dean watching him, and Dean can't tell if it's the sun breaking through the blinds or if Castiel is actually blushing in front of him.
"What was that?" Dean reaches out to tug on Cas' forearm, trying to get him back into bed.
"Umm. A telemarketer, I think. He asked about my plan, but didn't seem to want to hear about the Gospel."
Dean snorts out a laugh. "Is that a new ringtone?"
Cas moves closer in, now fully under the covers and retangling his legs with Dean's. He nuzzles in to Dean's shoulder before blinking up at him. "It's what you like to wake up to."
"Mmmm," Dean sleepily agrees before reaching over Cas and fiddling with the phone, turning it off. "There are other ways I like to wake up too." He's about to drift back asleep, arm sprawled across Cas' belly when he hears a low chuckle.
"Oh, I know about those too."
For gleeker13: for the prompt "try to explain this picture" (under the cut):
Dean sighed as he slumped back against the driver's seat, fingers rattling out a beat on the steering wheel. He had driven all night to get here, had to make it right as the sun breached the mountaintops or some such shit. Mythological quests seemed to take a more poetic license with their instructions, which pissed him off to no end.
He could see them out in the meadow, disappearing for brief moments in the tall grass, only to pop up in a completely new area. Reminded Dean of that Whack-a-Mole game at the arcades he would take Sammy, when they were younger and Sam still needed a footstool to reach the ones in the back.
Now though, Sam's size was a welcomed relief, allowing Dean to easily track him through the field. Sam and Cas were both wearing something on their heads - flowers, Dean realized, after pulling out his binoculars. Fucking daisy chains.
After several minutes, Dean finally sees a method to the madness, as it turns out Sam's chasing Castiel around with a pink plastic toy. Doesn't explain the madness, but at least it's a step in the right direction. Dean gets out of the Impala, double checking his body for the usual assortment of weapons and holy water. Lots of holy water this time.
"You're not going to need all that." Gabriel's voice catches him off guard, and Dean glares at him, staring him down.
"Oh come on," Gabe rolls his eyes. "You gotta admit, the pony's a great touch."
For cecilylee, for the prompt "Dean/Cas: CUTEANGST CUDDLES OVER GODHUMAN SHIT":
"Is this what humanity feels like?" Cas is on his back, head tipped back over the edge of the bed.
Dean grins before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Cas' exposed throat. "Part of it, I guess." He takes in the empty bottle by Cas' bed. "I think we can chalk this up to having finally found liquor that affects you." Dean sits down on the bed, propping himself against the headboard, limbs loose as Cas rolls over to curl around him.
"Dean?" Cas sounds melancholy, and Dean twists around to look down at him. "Do you think God is still there, watching over everything?"
Dean takes a swig from his own bottle. Not a habit he's particularly pleased to have exposed Cas to, but it's not like Cas didn't already know. Dean finds comfort in the bottle and Castiel finds comfort in him and the sun still rises in the morning and they still drive off into the sunset.
"Maybe not everything all the time." Dean tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, and he can swear there's a rabbit up there somewhere in the water stains. "Maybe he has a naughty list and a nice list and he ignores everyone neutral." Dean wants to add, like on Project Runway but even he's not drunk enough to admit to that. Even if he was sick and drunk on NyQuil at the time.
"So, my Father has been replaced by a man in a fat suit who only shows up when I behave?"
Dean bites his tongue, doing his best to think before he speaks.
"No, not really like that. Santa's to your dad as you and I are to real FBI agents. We may not be the real deal, but our presence provides comfort and answers people might not otherwise get." Dean checks the label of the bottle he's drinking from. Whatever it is, it makes him the most coherent drunk he's ever been, which is knowledge worth clinging to.
"So if I want to ever see my Father, I should make a list and behave myself?" Cas' voice is slowing down, his fingers curling in the loose fabric of the sweat pants Dean's wearing.
"I thought that's what got you in trouble in the first place." Dean tries and keeps his voice light, fingers tangling in Cas' hair. Cas' breathing starts to even out, a slow steady rhythm that starts to tip Dean into sleep. He scoots down the bed, twisting around to face Cas and press up next to him.
"Whaddo I do though?" The alcohol slurs Cas' speech, but his eyes are wide as he looks at Dean, and Dean can feel his heart skip. He still remembers how he fucked up Christmas for Sammy, and he doesn't want to do that to Cas. Not when Santa is God and Cas is starting to completely drift away.
"Sometimes just the smallest bit of faith is enough to keep bringing them back, Cas." That seems to satisfy him, a soft noise escaping as Cas presses closer and Dean wraps an arm around his waist, holding him tight.