Fic: Spn/DrWho/TW crossover - Enter the Doctor - (6/?)
Title: Enter the Doctor - Part 6
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Ten, Sam, Cpt Jack, John, Paul
Genre: Crossover - Supernatural/Doctor Who/Torchwood, Slash and some crakiness
Rating: PG-13 I think, sorry shouldn't go any higher than that... I think
Word Count: 3212
Warnings: Still got those real people in
Spoilers: Spn - S4, DrWho - up to 4.16, TW - CoE
Summary: The guys come to an unfortunate conclusion and Dean has an uninvited guest...
Note: This takes place between S4 and S5 - Supernatural, before 'The End of Time' - Doctor Who, and at the end of 'Children of Earth' - Torchwood.
Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
“Did we just do what I think we just did?” Sam asks, his voice low as he eyes the two bemused Beatles standing idly across the room.
“If you mean, did we just steal John Lennon and Paul McCartney… then yes. We did,” The Doctor says with a frown, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the computer.
“That’s not good, right?” Dean guesses, watching as Paul runs his hands over one of the twisting columns, a look of awe on his face, John rolling his eyes at him.
“We just snatched two of the Beatles out of their time, Dean. Of course it’s not good!” Sam hisses, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow.
“Yeah, but we can put them back where we found them right? I mean, take them back to their time?”
The Doctor shakes his head. “Not without any power.”
“So they’re trapped here with us until the TARDIS is recharged then?” Dean surmises, silently wondering how exactly they’re going to explain this to John and Paul, knowing exactly how well he himself had taken that news.
John gives his distracted friend a playful shove and then cracks a wicked grin at the dirty look Paul repays him with before snatching the cigarette out of his hand and holding it at arms length.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “But… they’re cute.” He winks, and turns his attention to Paul who’s wandering over with a wide-eyed expression on his face.
“This is fab!” he says, gesturing the inside of the TARDIS with his eyes. “It’s much bigger on the inside. What is it?”
The Doctor takes a breath and apparently doesn’t bother to lie as he say, “It’s a time machine.” And to Dean’s utter surprise Paul just nods and says, “That’s fab.” Before walking back to John who is taking a seat on the couch to roll another cigarette.
“It’s a time machine!” Dean hears Paul says and John gives the Beatle a funny look.
“Wait,” Sam says, frowning. “If the TARDIS has no power, how did we end up in the sixties in the first place?” he asks.
The Doctor shrugs heavily and turns to the computer as he says, “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
He flicks a switch and hunches his shoulders, his palms flat against the console. “All I know is, it wasn’t the TARDIS that took us there,” he says and points at a load of numbers and squiggly lines that make absolutely no sense to Dean.
“So if it wasn’t the TARDIS, what else could have done that?” Dean wonders. The only beings that Dean can think of that are capable of shoving people back in time are angels and even though Dean doesn’t think they would have done this, he asks any way.
“Cas, could any them be behind this?” Dean asks with a nod toward the sky, or in fact the TARDIS’s roof, and Castiel shakes his head staring thoughtfully at the floor. “No, it wasn’t one of us. I am as much in the dark as you are,” he says and Jack frowns at him.
“One of yo-” he pauses apparently just realising something as his expression turns grim. He sucks in a breath and says, “The rift manipulator.” And the Doctor stands up straight “But wasn’t it destroyed when the bomb went off?” he asks, and somehow Dean’s job seems a little less dangerous if Jack has to deal with bombs going off as well as aliens.
“It was,” Jack says, his eyes tight. “But Torchwood rebuilt it.”
“I should have guessed,” the Doctor sighs staring at the readouts on the screen.
“That’s the thing you showed me inside Torchwood right?” Sam asks, and Jack nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Though it’s not finished yet, and the new protocols make it impossible for anyone to use it without my authorisation. It needs a blood sample as well as retina scan, so I don’t know how anyone could have turned it on.”
“What’s a rift manipulator?” Dean asks, feeling a little out of the loop.
The Doctor fixes Dean with a serious look as he says, “All you really need to know is it can be used to open up the rift. And that’s-”
“That’s bad,” Dean guesses.
“Very.”
“Like Apocalypse two,” Sam adds as if Dean couldn’t gauge just how bad ‘vary’ is.
“So,” Dean starts, folding his arms. “What are we gonna do about it?”
The Doctor presses a button and the image on the screen switches to an aerial map of what Dean assumes must be Cardiff and everyone crowds in around him. “The TARDIS picked up some kind of energy flare before we were sent back in time,” he starts and Jack points at what could be classed as writing down one side of the map.
“It’s not exactly specific is it?” he asks and the Doctor sighs.
“No. Unfortunately it was too brief to pinpoint its location other than it was in Cardiff,” the Doctor says.
“That’s a wide area to search,” Jack points out, slouching against the computer.
“But it’s a good chance it was this rift thing that sent us back then?” Dean asks.
Jack shrugs. “I can’t think of anything else capable of jumping us back in time, so…” he trails off, looking at the Doctor for conformation and the Doctor nods.
“I guess we go check it out then,” Dean says, and grabbing his jacket, he crosses the room and opens the doors.
He stops, his foot lingering in the air, reluctant to place it down on the sand beneath it.
Nothing but Sand stretches out before him. Not a tree, not even a pyramid, just sand as far as Dean can see.
“Well that’s not Cardiff,” he says, turning around. “And where’s the fricken’ alar-”
The siren sounds cutting Dean off.
“Nice,” Dean comments dryly. “I think your box needs a good kicking, Doctor.”
The Doctor shakes his head wearily and switches off the alarm.
“Where are we?” Jack asks as he wanders over to the doors and stands beside Dean. They both stare out into the baking landscape, heat rising off the sand and dancing along the horizon, it’s almost hypnotic.
“The desert,” Dean says with a shrug as Jack reaches down to scoop sand into his hand and lets it trickle through his fingers.
“We’re in Egypt. Twelve-fifty-five BC,” the Doctor says and Sam makes a surprised little noise.
“Wow,” he says, and slides in between Dean and Jack to get a good look at, in Dean opinion, nothing.
“It’s just sand, Sam,” Dean tells him.
“Yeah, but it’s sand from twelve-fifty-five BC, Dean! Egyptian sand!” Sam says like an excited child.
“So it’s old, foreign sand, big deal,” Dean says and sniggers at the bitch-face his brother repays him with.
“I’ve never been to Egypt, Macca,” John says thoughtfully, offering his friend the cigarette.
“Well ye have now,” Paul says, taking it and sitting down on the arm of the chair next to him.
Dean leans over to Jack and talks conspiratorially into his ear. “Are these guys on something? Shouldn’t they be freaking out by now? They’re in a freakin’ time machine in the desert with five people they met, like five minutes ago!”
They watch the pair sharing the cigarette, John picking up the scattered playing cards, Paul examining an empty bottle of Squidip.
“I guess this doesn’t seem all that weird to them,” Jack says with a shrug.
“There was another flare,” the Doctor says, drawing their attention. “But as soon as we turned up here, the signal was cut off.”
“So you can’t narrow the area down?” Sam asks, wandering back to the computer and peering over the Doctor’s shoulder to get a look at the monitor.
“No, but… You better close the door, we’re going back!” the Doctor says and Dean quickly obliges, the last thing they need is a pharaoh hitching a ride with them as well, though Sammy would probably wet his pants with excitement if one did.
After a moment of silence the Doctor says, “We’re back.”
“Right,” Jack says. “We need to go check this out before we get sent somewhere else.”
He opens the doors again, and the cool draft and light veil of snow falling lets Dean know they really are back, and Dean’s surprised that he isn’t diving out there and refusing to go back inside. Somehow in the past few hours, Dean has grown used to this old time travelling box and he hadn’t realised until now, that he maybe kinda likes it…
The Doctor grabs his coat and steps out into the cold with Jack just as Sam says, “What about them?” And they all turn and stare at the two Beatles, John sitting rifling through the playing cards, the cigarette held between his lips, and Paul cross-legged on the couch and smiling at them.
“Me and Cas will stay here,” Dean says, a little too quickly and before Sam can get a questioning word out Jack wraps his arm around his shoulders and tugs him outside saying, “Sounds good. Lets go.”
Jack spares Dean a cheeky wink before turning and jogging away from the TARDIS, Sam and the Doctor trailing behind him and Dean closes the doors slowly, seriously hoping that he didn’t sound that obvious.
He suddenly remembers that Paul is looking at him and he straightens up and half smiles at him.
“You two be okay on your own for a minute right?” he asks and John makes a little noise at the back of his throat.
“How old do you think we are?” he asks without looking up, apparently arranging the playing cards into numerical order.
Dean shrugs. “I donno… fifteen?” he guesses and Paul laughs.
“Try twenty-two and twenty-four,” he corrects and Dean smiles slimly and nods. They shouldn’t have such baby faces then, he thinks to himself, and not at all jealous.
“So that’s a yes then? Well, we’ll just be through there,” Dean says pointing at the door to the corridor before grabbing the sleeve of Castiel’s trench and pulling him through it and out of sight. Dean didn’t bother to add ‘If you need anything’ because he really doesn’t want any interruptions.
Castiel has barely closed the door behind him before Dean has him pushed up against it, his hands fisted in the angel’s coat, he’s lips fierce and hot over Castiel’s.
Castiel is stiff for only a second before he relaxes against Dean’s body, sliding his arms around Dean, his fingers digging into the small of his back.
And Dean feels like he’s been starving his whole life and suddenly he’s allowed to eat and it’s the greatest meal Dean has ever tasted. He can’t believe he’s managed to restrain himself even this long, it feels so good…
Castiel groans softly into Dean’s mouth as he moves his hands over the angel’s chest, feeling it raise and fall with each hot breath so sweet on Dean’s tongue.
Dean doesn’t know why he finds this so easy now, so effortless, and he doesn’t care. All that matters is how good Castiel tastes, how amazing he feels pressed up against Dean’s body, his lips tantalisingly hot, his tongue probing.
Dean draws away, slowly, panting for the breath that Castiel has stolen from him. He hangs his head and laughs, his hands flat against the door on either side of Castiel’s head.
“This is crazy,” he says with another laugh. “The whole world’s going to Hell and all I wanna do is makeout with you.” He laughs again this one coming straight from his belly and Dean has a hard time getting it under control. Castiel holds a little tighter, a comforting strength that just makes Dean want to kisses him again. So he does…
Sweeter this time, softer, slowly pressing in, pressing deeper, Castiel’s lips parting at the touch of his tongue. Dean slides his fingers trough the angel’s hair, so soft it makes his skin tingle and he positions his hand to cushion Castiel’s head against the door.
Dean can feel Castiel’s arms moving over his back, one hand rising up to press against his shoulder, the other sliding down and hocking in the waistband of his pants and Dean’s whole body shivers against this unexpected touch.
He breathes out shakily, their lips parting briefly as he slides his own free hand down, running it over Castiel’s shirt, feeling his hot body beneath it and Castiel moans again, biting softly at Dean’s lip.
The buttons of Castiel’s suit jacket slip apart with barely any effort at all and each one undone makes Dean’s heart thump heavily in his chest.
Dean can feel this situation quickly slipping out of his control, wandering into unexplored waters and he finds himself nervous, like it’s his first time all over again, and well, it kind of is…
But on top of that, now really isn’t the time or place to be doing this, but Dean isn’t exactly thinking with his brain as it stands, and Castiel doesn’t seem to be either as he pulls Dean hard against him, his cool fingers slipping beneath Dean’s borrowed T-shirt as he grips tighter onto the waistband.
The siren wails and Dean almost jumps out of his skin, his pounding heartbeat coming to an abrupt halt only to start racing again with a jerk.
Dean really doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to stop here, though part of him is relieved that he gets a chance to think this through, but at the same time he wishes he didn’t, worried that if he does, he’ll loose this confidence, and that’s the last thing Dean wants.
“You should go and see,” Castiel breathes, his lips ghosting over Dean’s and Dean snatches them up again in a crushing kiss before pulling back sharply.
“We’re not finished here,” Dean tells Castiel with absolute certainty and Castiel nods, stepping aside to let Dean open the door. And that promise lingers on Dean’s tongue, shivers running through his body, and he knows part of that is nerves while the majority is excitement and anticipation…
In the control room John is standing beside the doors holding something that Dean has to have a double take of. It looks like a really large bone…
Dean freezes. “Where did you get that?”
“From him,” John says, tilting his head to gesture at a man half obscured by the computer. Dean skirts around it and stops when the man comes into view, his matted hair tangled with twigs and leaves, his clothes clearly nothing more than scraps of animal fur, his feet bare and muddy.
“Uh, Cas? Is that a caveman?”
The man turns sharply and grunts at Dean. He frowns, throws his arms up and says, “Uhngh ugh!” With an angry look in his eyes.
“Okay, this is fricken’ ridiculous! What are we in the Flintstones?!” Dean snaps and continues around the computer saying, “Out! Go on, get out!” And herds the Neanderthal toward the doors.
The man grunts several times at Dean, sidling sideways away from him. He snatches his bone back from John with a snort and a scrunch of his nose before scuttling out of the ship in a hunched crab-like run.
“Ungh!” he says in what sounds like a rude way and then turns and disappears behind a snow-covered and craggy cliff face.
Dean slams the doors closed and glares at John. “Dude, don’t open the door.”
“He seemed nice,” Paul says from the couch, sitting cradling a guitar.
Dean freezes again. “Where did you get that?” he asks his eyes darting around the room for any other stowaways, though Dean’s pretty sure cavemen didn’t own guitars.
“The cupboard,” he says with a cheeky little smile and Dean’s heart starts again. When did he start liking this box? Because right now, he’s seriously reconsidering that judgement…
“Good,” he says and rubs the side of his head with a groan. “How did the Doctor turn this fricken’ thing off?” he moans, leaning over the controls and he might as well be staring into a black hole and trying to figure out how one works because there are way too many switches, leavers and wobbly bits for Dean to even guess. And it’s a good job there isn’t a big red button screaming ‘DO NOT PUSH’ because Dean would be sincerely tempted to press it if it would shut the damn wailing up!
Silence comes almost painfully after the siren and Dean looks up to find Castiel with his finger pressing a switch on the computer.
“Thanks,” Dean says with a slim smile, and noticed then the buttons still undone on the angel’s jacket and it makes Dean want to pick up where they left off, but the doors open and Sam rushes inside.
“Dean!" he says and takes a breath. "We know where to go, and it’s not Torchwood." He pauses, an anxious look in his eyes as he bites his lip. "And… you gotta come take a look out side,” he adds grimly.
Grabbing his coat Dean turns to John and Paul saying, “Okay, rule one; don’t open the door. Rule two; don’t press anything. And rule three; Do. Not. Open. The door.”
John salutes with a crooked smile. “Yes sir,” he says before grinning widely.
“But what if summat wants to come in?” Paul asks without looking up, and strumming a few notes on the guitar.
“Well that’s easy…” Dean says. “Don’t let them.” And Sam gives him a questioning look. “Don’t ask,” he says, turning his brother around and walking out into the… Major Snowstorm!
“Where the hell did this come from?” Dean asks, hastily zipping up his jacket and then tugging the collar up around his neck.
“This is seriously bad, Dean,” Sam says as they press through the snow to where the Doctor and Jack are standing. “There have been reports of snow storms in Hawaii, of monsoons in Africa, of desert heat-waves in Alaska, Alaska Dean!” he exclaims, shaking his head and shrugging. He turns to the Doctor and Jack to find them staring distractedly at something off to the right, and Dean follows their gaze to find a very large, very hairy elephant ripping whole branches off an already feeble looking tree.
“A mammoth,” Dean guesses and nods. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“It does?” Jack asks, an eyebrow raised.
Dean shakes his head. “Caveman, never mind,” he says. “So this is happening all over the world?”
“Yeah,” Jack says, flipping open a flap on his wrist strap and pressing a button. “It’s worse than last time, and getting worse by the second.”
“Last time?” Dean asks and Jack nods.
“The rift was volatile to begin with and now someone is messing around with it, not only moving things through time but through space as well. Time is splintering. Things that have never been in Britain, let alone Wales are now here.”
“Eating your trees,” Dean says with a nod toward the walking hair factory.
“Last time I knew how to close it, this time…” he trails off shaking his head.
“We’ll figure it out,” the Doctor says and grins broadly. “Last time you didn’t have me.”
Part 7
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Ten, Sam, Cpt Jack, John, Paul
Genre: Crossover - Supernatural/Doctor Who/Torchwood, Slash and some crakiness
Rating: PG-13 I think, sorry shouldn't go any higher than that... I think
Word Count: 3212
Warnings: Still got those real people in
Spoilers: Spn - S4, DrWho - up to 4.16, TW - CoE
Summary: The guys come to an unfortunate conclusion and Dean has an uninvited guest...
Note: This takes place between S4 and S5 - Supernatural, before 'The End of Time' - Doctor Who, and at the end of 'Children of Earth' - Torchwood.
Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
“Did we just do what I think we just did?” Sam asks, his voice low as he eyes the two bemused Beatles standing idly across the room.
“If you mean, did we just steal John Lennon and Paul McCartney… then yes. We did,” The Doctor says with a frown, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the computer.
“That’s not good, right?” Dean guesses, watching as Paul runs his hands over one of the twisting columns, a look of awe on his face, John rolling his eyes at him.
“We just snatched two of the Beatles out of their time, Dean. Of course it’s not good!” Sam hisses, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow.
“Yeah, but we can put them back where we found them right? I mean, take them back to their time?”
The Doctor shakes his head. “Not without any power.”
“So they’re trapped here with us until the TARDIS is recharged then?” Dean surmises, silently wondering how exactly they’re going to explain this to John and Paul, knowing exactly how well he himself had taken that news.
John gives his distracted friend a playful shove and then cracks a wicked grin at the dirty look Paul repays him with before snatching the cigarette out of his hand and holding it at arms length.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “But… they’re cute.” He winks, and turns his attention to Paul who’s wandering over with a wide-eyed expression on his face.
“This is fab!” he says, gesturing the inside of the TARDIS with his eyes. “It’s much bigger on the inside. What is it?”
The Doctor takes a breath and apparently doesn’t bother to lie as he say, “It’s a time machine.” And to Dean’s utter surprise Paul just nods and says, “That’s fab.” Before walking back to John who is taking a seat on the couch to roll another cigarette.
“It’s a time machine!” Dean hears Paul says and John gives the Beatle a funny look.
“Wait,” Sam says, frowning. “If the TARDIS has no power, how did we end up in the sixties in the first place?” he asks.
The Doctor shrugs heavily and turns to the computer as he says, “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
He flicks a switch and hunches his shoulders, his palms flat against the console. “All I know is, it wasn’t the TARDIS that took us there,” he says and points at a load of numbers and squiggly lines that make absolutely no sense to Dean.
“So if it wasn’t the TARDIS, what else could have done that?” Dean wonders. The only beings that Dean can think of that are capable of shoving people back in time are angels and even though Dean doesn’t think they would have done this, he asks any way.
“Cas, could any them be behind this?” Dean asks with a nod toward the sky, or in fact the TARDIS’s roof, and Castiel shakes his head staring thoughtfully at the floor. “No, it wasn’t one of us. I am as much in the dark as you are,” he says and Jack frowns at him.
“One of yo-” he pauses apparently just realising something as his expression turns grim. He sucks in a breath and says, “The rift manipulator.” And the Doctor stands up straight “But wasn’t it destroyed when the bomb went off?” he asks, and somehow Dean’s job seems a little less dangerous if Jack has to deal with bombs going off as well as aliens.
“It was,” Jack says, his eyes tight. “But Torchwood rebuilt it.”
“I should have guessed,” the Doctor sighs staring at the readouts on the screen.
“That’s the thing you showed me inside Torchwood right?” Sam asks, and Jack nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Though it’s not finished yet, and the new protocols make it impossible for anyone to use it without my authorisation. It needs a blood sample as well as retina scan, so I don’t know how anyone could have turned it on.”
“What’s a rift manipulator?” Dean asks, feeling a little out of the loop.
The Doctor fixes Dean with a serious look as he says, “All you really need to know is it can be used to open up the rift. And that’s-”
“That’s bad,” Dean guesses.
“Very.”
“Like Apocalypse two,” Sam adds as if Dean couldn’t gauge just how bad ‘vary’ is.
“So,” Dean starts, folding his arms. “What are we gonna do about it?”
The Doctor presses a button and the image on the screen switches to an aerial map of what Dean assumes must be Cardiff and everyone crowds in around him. “The TARDIS picked up some kind of energy flare before we were sent back in time,” he starts and Jack points at what could be classed as writing down one side of the map.
“It’s not exactly specific is it?” he asks and the Doctor sighs.
“No. Unfortunately it was too brief to pinpoint its location other than it was in Cardiff,” the Doctor says.
“That’s a wide area to search,” Jack points out, slouching against the computer.
“But it’s a good chance it was this rift thing that sent us back then?” Dean asks.
Jack shrugs. “I can’t think of anything else capable of jumping us back in time, so…” he trails off, looking at the Doctor for conformation and the Doctor nods.
“I guess we go check it out then,” Dean says, and grabbing his jacket, he crosses the room and opens the doors.
He stops, his foot lingering in the air, reluctant to place it down on the sand beneath it.
Nothing but Sand stretches out before him. Not a tree, not even a pyramid, just sand as far as Dean can see.
“Well that’s not Cardiff,” he says, turning around. “And where’s the fricken’ alar-”
The siren sounds cutting Dean off.
“Nice,” Dean comments dryly. “I think your box needs a good kicking, Doctor.”
The Doctor shakes his head wearily and switches off the alarm.
“Where are we?” Jack asks as he wanders over to the doors and stands beside Dean. They both stare out into the baking landscape, heat rising off the sand and dancing along the horizon, it’s almost hypnotic.
“The desert,” Dean says with a shrug as Jack reaches down to scoop sand into his hand and lets it trickle through his fingers.
“We’re in Egypt. Twelve-fifty-five BC,” the Doctor says and Sam makes a surprised little noise.
“Wow,” he says, and slides in between Dean and Jack to get a good look at, in Dean opinion, nothing.
“It’s just sand, Sam,” Dean tells him.
“Yeah, but it’s sand from twelve-fifty-five BC, Dean! Egyptian sand!” Sam says like an excited child.
“So it’s old, foreign sand, big deal,” Dean says and sniggers at the bitch-face his brother repays him with.
“I’ve never been to Egypt, Macca,” John says thoughtfully, offering his friend the cigarette.
“Well ye have now,” Paul says, taking it and sitting down on the arm of the chair next to him.
Dean leans over to Jack and talks conspiratorially into his ear. “Are these guys on something? Shouldn’t they be freaking out by now? They’re in a freakin’ time machine in the desert with five people they met, like five minutes ago!”
They watch the pair sharing the cigarette, John picking up the scattered playing cards, Paul examining an empty bottle of Squidip.
“I guess this doesn’t seem all that weird to them,” Jack says with a shrug.
“There was another flare,” the Doctor says, drawing their attention. “But as soon as we turned up here, the signal was cut off.”
“So you can’t narrow the area down?” Sam asks, wandering back to the computer and peering over the Doctor’s shoulder to get a look at the monitor.
“No, but… You better close the door, we’re going back!” the Doctor says and Dean quickly obliges, the last thing they need is a pharaoh hitching a ride with them as well, though Sammy would probably wet his pants with excitement if one did.
After a moment of silence the Doctor says, “We’re back.”
“Right,” Jack says. “We need to go check this out before we get sent somewhere else.”
He opens the doors again, and the cool draft and light veil of snow falling lets Dean know they really are back, and Dean’s surprised that he isn’t diving out there and refusing to go back inside. Somehow in the past few hours, Dean has grown used to this old time travelling box and he hadn’t realised until now, that he maybe kinda likes it…
The Doctor grabs his coat and steps out into the cold with Jack just as Sam says, “What about them?” And they all turn and stare at the two Beatles, John sitting rifling through the playing cards, the cigarette held between his lips, and Paul cross-legged on the couch and smiling at them.
“Me and Cas will stay here,” Dean says, a little too quickly and before Sam can get a questioning word out Jack wraps his arm around his shoulders and tugs him outside saying, “Sounds good. Lets go.”
Jack spares Dean a cheeky wink before turning and jogging away from the TARDIS, Sam and the Doctor trailing behind him and Dean closes the doors slowly, seriously hoping that he didn’t sound that obvious.
He suddenly remembers that Paul is looking at him and he straightens up and half smiles at him.
“You two be okay on your own for a minute right?” he asks and John makes a little noise at the back of his throat.
“How old do you think we are?” he asks without looking up, apparently arranging the playing cards into numerical order.
Dean shrugs. “I donno… fifteen?” he guesses and Paul laughs.
“Try twenty-two and twenty-four,” he corrects and Dean smiles slimly and nods. They shouldn’t have such baby faces then, he thinks to himself, and not at all jealous.
“So that’s a yes then? Well, we’ll just be through there,” Dean says pointing at the door to the corridor before grabbing the sleeve of Castiel’s trench and pulling him through it and out of sight. Dean didn’t bother to add ‘If you need anything’ because he really doesn’t want any interruptions.
Castiel has barely closed the door behind him before Dean has him pushed up against it, his hands fisted in the angel’s coat, he’s lips fierce and hot over Castiel’s.
Castiel is stiff for only a second before he relaxes against Dean’s body, sliding his arms around Dean, his fingers digging into the small of his back.
And Dean feels like he’s been starving his whole life and suddenly he’s allowed to eat and it’s the greatest meal Dean has ever tasted. He can’t believe he’s managed to restrain himself even this long, it feels so good…
Castiel groans softly into Dean’s mouth as he moves his hands over the angel’s chest, feeling it raise and fall with each hot breath so sweet on Dean’s tongue.
Dean doesn’t know why he finds this so easy now, so effortless, and he doesn’t care. All that matters is how good Castiel tastes, how amazing he feels pressed up against Dean’s body, his lips tantalisingly hot, his tongue probing.
Dean draws away, slowly, panting for the breath that Castiel has stolen from him. He hangs his head and laughs, his hands flat against the door on either side of Castiel’s head.
“This is crazy,” he says with another laugh. “The whole world’s going to Hell and all I wanna do is makeout with you.” He laughs again this one coming straight from his belly and Dean has a hard time getting it under control. Castiel holds a little tighter, a comforting strength that just makes Dean want to kisses him again. So he does…
Sweeter this time, softer, slowly pressing in, pressing deeper, Castiel’s lips parting at the touch of his tongue. Dean slides his fingers trough the angel’s hair, so soft it makes his skin tingle and he positions his hand to cushion Castiel’s head against the door.
Dean can feel Castiel’s arms moving over his back, one hand rising up to press against his shoulder, the other sliding down and hocking in the waistband of his pants and Dean’s whole body shivers against this unexpected touch.
He breathes out shakily, their lips parting briefly as he slides his own free hand down, running it over Castiel’s shirt, feeling his hot body beneath it and Castiel moans again, biting softly at Dean’s lip.
The buttons of Castiel’s suit jacket slip apart with barely any effort at all and each one undone makes Dean’s heart thump heavily in his chest.
Dean can feel this situation quickly slipping out of his control, wandering into unexplored waters and he finds himself nervous, like it’s his first time all over again, and well, it kind of is…
But on top of that, now really isn’t the time or place to be doing this, but Dean isn’t exactly thinking with his brain as it stands, and Castiel doesn’t seem to be either as he pulls Dean hard against him, his cool fingers slipping beneath Dean’s borrowed T-shirt as he grips tighter onto the waistband.
The siren wails and Dean almost jumps out of his skin, his pounding heartbeat coming to an abrupt halt only to start racing again with a jerk.
Dean really doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to stop here, though part of him is relieved that he gets a chance to think this through, but at the same time he wishes he didn’t, worried that if he does, he’ll loose this confidence, and that’s the last thing Dean wants.
“You should go and see,” Castiel breathes, his lips ghosting over Dean’s and Dean snatches them up again in a crushing kiss before pulling back sharply.
“We’re not finished here,” Dean tells Castiel with absolute certainty and Castiel nods, stepping aside to let Dean open the door. And that promise lingers on Dean’s tongue, shivers running through his body, and he knows part of that is nerves while the majority is excitement and anticipation…
In the control room John is standing beside the doors holding something that Dean has to have a double take of. It looks like a really large bone…
Dean freezes. “Where did you get that?”
“From him,” John says, tilting his head to gesture at a man half obscured by the computer. Dean skirts around it and stops when the man comes into view, his matted hair tangled with twigs and leaves, his clothes clearly nothing more than scraps of animal fur, his feet bare and muddy.
“Uh, Cas? Is that a caveman?”
The man turns sharply and grunts at Dean. He frowns, throws his arms up and says, “Uhngh ugh!” With an angry look in his eyes.
“Okay, this is fricken’ ridiculous! What are we in the Flintstones?!” Dean snaps and continues around the computer saying, “Out! Go on, get out!” And herds the Neanderthal toward the doors.
The man grunts several times at Dean, sidling sideways away from him. He snatches his bone back from John with a snort and a scrunch of his nose before scuttling out of the ship in a hunched crab-like run.
“Ungh!” he says in what sounds like a rude way and then turns and disappears behind a snow-covered and craggy cliff face.
Dean slams the doors closed and glares at John. “Dude, don’t open the door.”
“He seemed nice,” Paul says from the couch, sitting cradling a guitar.
Dean freezes again. “Where did you get that?” he asks his eyes darting around the room for any other stowaways, though Dean’s pretty sure cavemen didn’t own guitars.
“The cupboard,” he says with a cheeky little smile and Dean’s heart starts again. When did he start liking this box? Because right now, he’s seriously reconsidering that judgement…
“Good,” he says and rubs the side of his head with a groan. “How did the Doctor turn this fricken’ thing off?” he moans, leaning over the controls and he might as well be staring into a black hole and trying to figure out how one works because there are way too many switches, leavers and wobbly bits for Dean to even guess. And it’s a good job there isn’t a big red button screaming ‘DO NOT PUSH’ because Dean would be sincerely tempted to press it if it would shut the damn wailing up!
Silence comes almost painfully after the siren and Dean looks up to find Castiel with his finger pressing a switch on the computer.
“Thanks,” Dean says with a slim smile, and noticed then the buttons still undone on the angel’s jacket and it makes Dean want to pick up where they left off, but the doors open and Sam rushes inside.
“Dean!" he says and takes a breath. "We know where to go, and it’s not Torchwood." He pauses, an anxious look in his eyes as he bites his lip. "And… you gotta come take a look out side,” he adds grimly.
Grabbing his coat Dean turns to John and Paul saying, “Okay, rule one; don’t open the door. Rule two; don’t press anything. And rule three; Do. Not. Open. The door.”
John salutes with a crooked smile. “Yes sir,” he says before grinning widely.
“But what if summat wants to come in?” Paul asks without looking up, and strumming a few notes on the guitar.
“Well that’s easy…” Dean says. “Don’t let them.” And Sam gives him a questioning look. “Don’t ask,” he says, turning his brother around and walking out into the… Major Snowstorm!
“Where the hell did this come from?” Dean asks, hastily zipping up his jacket and then tugging the collar up around his neck.
“This is seriously bad, Dean,” Sam says as they press through the snow to where the Doctor and Jack are standing. “There have been reports of snow storms in Hawaii, of monsoons in Africa, of desert heat-waves in Alaska, Alaska Dean!” he exclaims, shaking his head and shrugging. He turns to the Doctor and Jack to find them staring distractedly at something off to the right, and Dean follows their gaze to find a very large, very hairy elephant ripping whole branches off an already feeble looking tree.
“A mammoth,” Dean guesses and nods. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“It does?” Jack asks, an eyebrow raised.
Dean shakes his head. “Caveman, never mind,” he says. “So this is happening all over the world?”
“Yeah,” Jack says, flipping open a flap on his wrist strap and pressing a button. “It’s worse than last time, and getting worse by the second.”
“Last time?” Dean asks and Jack nods.
“The rift was volatile to begin with and now someone is messing around with it, not only moving things through time but through space as well. Time is splintering. Things that have never been in Britain, let alone Wales are now here.”
“Eating your trees,” Dean says with a nod toward the walking hair factory.
“Last time I knew how to close it, this time…” he trails off shaking his head.
“We’ll figure it out,” the Doctor says and grins broadly. “Last time you didn’t have me.”
Part 7