FICLET COLLECTION - "A Tree and Some Boston Market" - Ballin' (Ch. 6)
Title: "A Tree and Some Boston Market" - A Supernatural Holiday Advent Calendar
Author: earzwideopen
Rating: PG-13 (unless otherwise noted before a specific chapter)
Pairing: Gen, possible hints of Destiel pre-slash
Warnings: None, except for a little "hunter language"
Genres: Mostly fluff or humor, occasional h/c
Summary: Yuletide can be an interesting time, especially if you're a Winchester. A daily-updated collection of holiday ficlets, one for every day of December up to and including the 25th. Because I couldn't think of a better way to count down to Christmas!
Chapter Summary: Really, it was the absence of porn that had prompted Dean to teach Cas the art of snowball making. The fight itself... that was all Sam's fault.
Archived: on AO3
LiveJournal: Read it after the cut!
Additional Parts on LJ: Part 1/25 | Part 2/25 | Part 3/25 | Part 4/25 | Part 5/25
December 6th - Ballin'
"Pack it real tight, Cas... Oh, come on, Sammy, I meant the damn snowball! Get your mind outta the gutter. Jesus."
Sam grinned and held his hands up in mock submission, his laughter making little clouds in front of his mouth. "Hey, whatever. You're the one directing this porno, apparently."
"Yeah, real funny, bitch."
"I thought these so-called 'pornos' had to involve pizza in some way..." Cas mused, frowning at the pile of snow in his hands.
"Only the best ones do," said Dean, gathering up a heap of the white stuff for himself.
"Who's mind's in the gutter now?" said Sam under his breath.
"Hey, I heard that," growled Dean. "Don't make my snowball-throwing hand open up a can of whoop-ass on you prematurely."
"A can of..." said Cas with a tilt of his head.
"Never mind, keep making your snowball."
Dean had no idea what had made him propose the impromptu snow-balling lesson. Probably boredom. And lack of alcohol. Or women. (One can only sneak out to the Impala at the motel and flip through the latest "Busty Asian Beauties" mag so many times a night). And so Dean had called Castiel, who had happened to be a tad bored as well ("I've been in the Heaven of an earthworm, just watching... the dirt."), and they had all taken a trip to the nearest abandoned nature preserve to let off some steam.
The brothers had already asked Cas at least three times if he wanted to borrow their extra pair of gloves, but the angel had insisted he didn't need them. Castiel's palms looked a little rosy as they handled the snow, but it didn't seem like Jimmy Novak's hands would be dropping off any time soon.
Within minutes, both Sam and Dean had nice piles of snowballs going. Dean was about to brush the extra powder off his gloves and call everyone in for a pre-fight huddle, but he realized Cas might need a little extra time.
"Cas," said Dean, "do you only have one ball?"
Castiel aimed a very grave stare at Dean.
"I am fairly certain," the angel said, "that Jimmy Novak's body has not one, but two testes."
Sam nearly lost it laughing. Dean sighed and rubbed at the space between his eyes.
"No, dude," Dean said. "I mean, did you only make one snowball."
"Oh," said Castiel, "yes, I did make only one." His chest puffing up with something like pride, Cas regarded the white sphere in his cupped hands.
And that was exactly what it was - a perfect sphere. From what Dean could tell, Castiel had packed and smoothed his snowball into cosmically good condition. It looked way more like a shining white arcade skee ball than any snowball Dean had ever seen. Still - anyone who only brought one snowball to a snowball fight stood... well... a snowball's chance of winning.
When Dean told Castiel as much, the angel glared at Dean like his dignity had been wounded.
"An angel of the Lord," said Cas, "does not need more than one weapon to win a battle. Victory for us is rarely ever numbers unless we're fighting against our own; it's all about resourcefulness and tact."
Dean shrugged. "'Kay then, winged Yoda. May the force be with you." He turned around and prepared to hurl a snowball at the back of Sammy's neck, but Cas materialized abruptly right in front of him.
"Dean," said Cas, looking pretty concerned even for an angel, "I'm ambivalent about this fight. I don't want to hurt you. Or Sam."
"Dude," Dean laughed, "It's a snowball fight. It's chunks of half-frozen water. People get hit everywhere with these, in the face, wherever. You have my full permission to hurl that son of a bitch as hard as you can."
"Are you certain?" Cas asked.
"Scout's honor."
"Okay," sighed Cas. "I feel slightly reassured. I suppose I'll have to get used to the idea of slinging frozen balls at your face."
"Yeah you will," said a tiny, mirthful voice right behind Dean.
The older hunter whipped around and jammed his snowball into Sam's face as hard as he possibly could.
Sam spluttered, laughed, and followed up with a volley of his own snowballs. Dean threw another one back. They both ran for their piles. Castiel observed, tense, prepared, waiting for the right time to strike. The air was filled with flecks of white as the hunters volleyed back and forth, hitting, missing but mostly hitting, laughing, taunting, swearing, tripping, their feet crunching over the powdery earth. Snowballs flew left, right, in massive arcs and straight lines, whizzing, exploding...
Dean seized the moment, cocked his elbow back, and whipped a snowball at Castiel's face as hard as he possible could.
Castiel caught the cold clump right in front of his own nose without blinking, and before Dean had time to think, the white skee ball was shooting towards him at the speed of sound and-
"AAAAAAUGUGGHH!"
Dean, suddenly finding himself twisted up on the ground, wondered if that had been his own scream. The world looked white, and not just because of the snow. His hands were clamped over his left side by his stomach, and only it took him a couple seconds to realize why.
"Mother fucker!" Dean gasped, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes as the pain caught up to him. "Aw, son of a bitch-ass motherfuckingcocksucking Jesus Mary Oprah Jiminy fucking Christmas..."
He heard Castiel's voice asking, "Sam, is he casting some sort of spell?"
"Dean- Dean!" yelled Sam, who had run to his brother's side when he saw Dean wasn't getting up. "Hey hey, Dean, what is it, is it your side?"
"No Sammy, it's my god damn vagina," Dean rasped. "Whaddoyou think, of course it's my side... Ohhh, hot damn I'm dying..."
"Castiel, what did you do to him?" said Sam.
Dan squinted up and noticed through the searing pain that Cas looked pretty guilty. Good.
"I warned him about my fighting abilities," said Castiel somberly. "The snowball I packed was incredibly dense; in Earth measurements it probably weighed about twenty pounds, give or take."
"Give or take my ass," growled Dean through clenched teeth. "Aw, this feels... Aw god, something's not right..."
"Be still, Dean," said Cas quietly, "I can fix this." Dean felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder, turning him onto his back, and the hand was so gentle Dean wondered how it could have possibly hurled a twenty pound orb into his gut a few moments ago.
"If we ever snowball fight again for some reason," said Sam, "Castiel gets to be on my team."
"But I'm older-" croaked Dean.
"Nope," said Sam. "Dibs. Now hey, just take it easy so Cas can do his thing."
Dean nodded.
As it turned out, Castiel's Christmas present to Dean that year was a new spleen. Which was fine by Dean; he'd been getting tired of his old one, anyway.
Author: earzwideopen
Rating: PG-13 (unless otherwise noted before a specific chapter)
Pairing: Gen, possible hints of Destiel pre-slash
Warnings: None, except for a little "hunter language"
Genres: Mostly fluff or humor, occasional h/c
Summary: Yuletide can be an interesting time, especially if you're a Winchester. A daily-updated collection of holiday ficlets, one for every day of December up to and including the 25th. Because I couldn't think of a better way to count down to Christmas!
Chapter Summary: Really, it was the absence of porn that had prompted Dean to teach Cas the art of snowball making. The fight itself... that was all Sam's fault.
Archived: on AO3
LiveJournal: Read it after the cut!
Additional Parts on LJ: Part 1/25 | Part 2/25 | Part 3/25 | Part 4/25 | Part 5/25
December 6th - Ballin'
"Pack it real tight, Cas... Oh, come on, Sammy, I meant the damn snowball! Get your mind outta the gutter. Jesus."
Sam grinned and held his hands up in mock submission, his laughter making little clouds in front of his mouth. "Hey, whatever. You're the one directing this porno, apparently."
"Yeah, real funny, bitch."
"I thought these so-called 'pornos' had to involve pizza in some way..." Cas mused, frowning at the pile of snow in his hands.
"Only the best ones do," said Dean, gathering up a heap of the white stuff for himself.
"Who's mind's in the gutter now?" said Sam under his breath.
"Hey, I heard that," growled Dean. "Don't make my snowball-throwing hand open up a can of whoop-ass on you prematurely."
"A can of..." said Cas with a tilt of his head.
"Never mind, keep making your snowball."
Dean had no idea what had made him propose the impromptu snow-balling lesson. Probably boredom. And lack of alcohol. Or women. (One can only sneak out to the Impala at the motel and flip through the latest "Busty Asian Beauties" mag so many times a night). And so Dean had called Castiel, who had happened to be a tad bored as well ("I've been in the Heaven of an earthworm, just watching... the dirt."), and they had all taken a trip to the nearest abandoned nature preserve to let off some steam.
The brothers had already asked Cas at least three times if he wanted to borrow their extra pair of gloves, but the angel had insisted he didn't need them. Castiel's palms looked a little rosy as they handled the snow, but it didn't seem like Jimmy Novak's hands would be dropping off any time soon.
Within minutes, both Sam and Dean had nice piles of snowballs going. Dean was about to brush the extra powder off his gloves and call everyone in for a pre-fight huddle, but he realized Cas might need a little extra time.
"Cas," said Dean, "do you only have one ball?"
Castiel aimed a very grave stare at Dean.
"I am fairly certain," the angel said, "that Jimmy Novak's body has not one, but two testes."
Sam nearly lost it laughing. Dean sighed and rubbed at the space between his eyes.
"No, dude," Dean said. "I mean, did you only make one snowball."
"Oh," said Castiel, "yes, I did make only one." His chest puffing up with something like pride, Cas regarded the white sphere in his cupped hands.
And that was exactly what it was - a perfect sphere. From what Dean could tell, Castiel had packed and smoothed his snowball into cosmically good condition. It looked way more like a shining white arcade skee ball than any snowball Dean had ever seen. Still - anyone who only brought one snowball to a snowball fight stood... well... a snowball's chance of winning.
When Dean told Castiel as much, the angel glared at Dean like his dignity had been wounded.
"An angel of the Lord," said Cas, "does not need more than one weapon to win a battle. Victory for us is rarely ever numbers unless we're fighting against our own; it's all about resourcefulness and tact."
Dean shrugged. "'Kay then, winged Yoda. May the force be with you." He turned around and prepared to hurl a snowball at the back of Sammy's neck, but Cas materialized abruptly right in front of him.
"Dean," said Cas, looking pretty concerned even for an angel, "I'm ambivalent about this fight. I don't want to hurt you. Or Sam."
"Dude," Dean laughed, "It's a snowball fight. It's chunks of half-frozen water. People get hit everywhere with these, in the face, wherever. You have my full permission to hurl that son of a bitch as hard as you can."
"Are you certain?" Cas asked.
"Scout's honor."
"Okay," sighed Cas. "I feel slightly reassured. I suppose I'll have to get used to the idea of slinging frozen balls at your face."
"Yeah you will," said a tiny, mirthful voice right behind Dean.
The older hunter whipped around and jammed his snowball into Sam's face as hard as he possibly could.
Sam spluttered, laughed, and followed up with a volley of his own snowballs. Dean threw another one back. They both ran for their piles. Castiel observed, tense, prepared, waiting for the right time to strike. The air was filled with flecks of white as the hunters volleyed back and forth, hitting, missing but mostly hitting, laughing, taunting, swearing, tripping, their feet crunching over the powdery earth. Snowballs flew left, right, in massive arcs and straight lines, whizzing, exploding...
Dean seized the moment, cocked his elbow back, and whipped a snowball at Castiel's face as hard as he possible could.
Castiel caught the cold clump right in front of his own nose without blinking, and before Dean had time to think, the white skee ball was shooting towards him at the speed of sound and-
"AAAAAAUGUGGHH!"
Dean, suddenly finding himself twisted up on the ground, wondered if that had been his own scream. The world looked white, and not just because of the snow. His hands were clamped over his left side by his stomach, and only it took him a couple seconds to realize why.
"Mother fucker!" Dean gasped, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes as the pain caught up to him. "Aw, son of a bitch-ass motherfuckingcocksucking Jesus Mary Oprah Jiminy fucking Christmas..."
He heard Castiel's voice asking, "Sam, is he casting some sort of spell?"
"Dean- Dean!" yelled Sam, who had run to his brother's side when he saw Dean wasn't getting up. "Hey hey, Dean, what is it, is it your side?"
"No Sammy, it's my god damn vagina," Dean rasped. "Whaddoyou think, of course it's my side... Ohhh, hot damn I'm dying..."
"Castiel, what did you do to him?" said Sam.
Dan squinted up and noticed through the searing pain that Cas looked pretty guilty. Good.
"I warned him about my fighting abilities," said Castiel somberly. "The snowball I packed was incredibly dense; in Earth measurements it probably weighed about twenty pounds, give or take."
"Give or take my ass," growled Dean through clenched teeth. "Aw, this feels... Aw god, something's not right..."
"Be still, Dean," said Cas quietly, "I can fix this." Dean felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder, turning him onto his back, and the hand was so gentle Dean wondered how it could have possibly hurled a twenty pound orb into his gut a few moments ago.
"If we ever snowball fight again for some reason," said Sam, "Castiel gets to be on my team."
"But I'm older-" croaked Dean.
"Nope," said Sam. "Dibs. Now hey, just take it easy so Cas can do his thing."
Dean nodded.
As it turned out, Castiel's Christmas present to Dean that year was a new spleen. Which was fine by Dean; he'd been getting tired of his old one, anyway.