[Fic] SPN - LiveJournal Prompt Fills
Prompt #1 for pann_cake
Title: Breast Milk, Bottles and Bouncing Boys
Prompt: “Oh oh, Sin with a Grin verse, Dean and Cas babysitting Seb. :DD”
When the sharp cry split the air, Dean was momentarily confused. He sat up, looked wildly around and then remembered. Right. Sam and Jess were on their honeymoon and Dean and Cas were taking care of baby Sebastian. Dean looked to his side and wondered if Castiel was groaning and bitching about being woken up at ass o’clock in the morning but was completely startled to see Castiel’s side of the bed was empty - just a pile of rumbled sheets.
Dean boggled for a moment and realized belatedly that the crying had been short lived. Confused, but figuring the situation out quickly, Dean got up and padded into the kitchen. He stilled at the doorway, and could only smile at the sight.
Castiel was pacing quietly back and forth, gently jiggling Seb and whispering what could only be soothing words into the infant’s ear. As Castiel turned, he caught sight of Dean in the doorway and smiled back.
“Good morning,” Castiel greeted, shockingly chipper for quarter-to-seven. “Could you check on the bottle?”
“You’re awake,” Dean said dumbly.
“Astute observation, Watson. You should do this professionally,” Castiel replied wryly.
“Dude, it isn’t even seven yet and you are awake.”
“Baby,” Castiel said slowly. “Hungry baby who needs attention. Besides, you were up late last night with him, it’s only fair. The bottle, Dean?”
Dean shook off his shock. “Right, right. Bottle.” Dean walked over to the pot on the stove and pulled the bottle free. He was still slightly weirded out to be handling his sister-in-law’s pre-pumped breast milk but what was good for his nephew was more than good for Dean. He tested a small drop and his wrist, and satisfied, carried it over to Castiel.
“What me to…?” Dean offered.
“I got it,” Castiel replied. “Thank you. I’ve been Uncle Cas for the last eight years, got this covered,” Castiel winked to take some of the potential sting from his words and Dean settled back to watch.
Castiel looked damn good with a baby.
End
Prompt #2 for cami75
Title: Meet the Parents
Prompt: “Oh well, Sin with a Grin verse, Castiel meets the parents or Dean talks to Mary about Cas for the first time.”
Mary silently entered the sitting room and placed John’s coffee on the table next to his armchair. Then she placed her own cup of tea on the coffee table and took up her place on the couch, picking up her Home Living magazine and flipping through it.
“Dean’s bringing someone to Thanksgiving,” Mary said.
“Someone? Like a friend or…?” John asked.
“He didn’t say. Just someone.”
John folded down the corner of his paper and looked over at Mary, who looked up from her magazine and stared back levelly.
“Someone,” John repeated.
“Someone.”
“Dean hasn’t brought someone home since Lisa. Did we like her?”
“Not particularly, no,” Mary sipped her tea primly. “He must be pretty serious about this someone.”
“Huh,” John turned back to his paper.
Mary placed her tea lightly on the coffee table and flipped through a few more pages of the magazine.
“Sam seemed to hint that this someone might not be a female someone,” Mary said after a few moments.
John folded the paper down again and quirked a brow. “Give me some credit, Mary. My own brother doesn’t like female someones.”
“Eldest sons are different than brothers.”
“Do you have a problem with it?” John challenged.
Mary snorted. “Hardly. I just know how you get sometimes, John Eric Winchester, that’s all. I just want you to be kind. Like we said, Dean hasn’t brought anyone home since Lisa and that was nearly ten years ago.”
“We didn’t like Lisa, Mary.”
Mary sighed, “Yes, I handled that situation poorly, I can admit that now. I should have been more willing to accept his happiness, regardless of my personal feelings. This time though, I just want to be sure we are both on the same page. Even if we don’t like this someone - male or female - we let Dean make his own mistakes or triumphs. I don’t want to lose him again, John.”
John met Mary’s eye and said seriously, “He’s always been your boy, Mary. You won’t lose him.”
“He didn’t speak to us for a year after he told us about Lisa, John.”
“Won’t happen again. Dean’s thirty-years-old. If we don’t start trusting his decisions now, then we may as well have lost him already. I’ll behave. Promise.”
“Thank you,” Mary took another sip of tea and turned back to her magazine.
John drank half his coffee and turned back to his paper.
xx
Sam and Jess arrived first. Mary and John weren’t surprised. Sam may not be always the most punctual but Jessica certainly was.
Now Jessica, Jessica was a good girl. John and Mary had liked her right away and Sam’s happiness was clear. Besides, she was a pediatric nurse that in and of itself was admirable, let alone all of Jessica’s other fine qualities. Mary just wondered what on Earth was keeping Sam from proposing. Sam cited school and work as the cause, John figured Sam just wasn’t ready to grow up. Mary and John had fought over that one. Though fighting for them was more usual than unusual.
“So, Sam, who is this someone Dean’s bringing?” Mary couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
John rolled his eyes.
They were gathered in the kitchen drinking coffee and nibbling appetizers, before the main meal. All of them were anxiously waiting on Dean, but none of them actually said it.
“A good person,” Sam answered cryptically. “Don’t pry it out of me, Mom. I promised Dean I wouldn’t say anything.”
“I don’t get what the big secret is,” John huffed.
“One word guys: Lisa. He’s been freaking out about this for the last week. He’s terrified you won’t like his guest and he’s really, really serious about them. I mean they-”
Mary saw Jess jostle and smile politely. Jessica must have elbowed or kicked Sam under the table or something, because Sam snapped his mouth shut and looked away.
“Still don’t get the big secret,” John grumbled. John did enjoy grumbling.
They were saved by making further awkward small talk, when, the familiar rumble of a familiar engine, reached their ears.
“Impala,” Sam said needlessly.
“Can’t believe your brother kept that old thing. I mean she’s a good piece of machinery but aren’t you young guys supposed all want new yellow Camaros, or something?” John remarked.
“Oh John,” Mary rolled her eyes this time. She pushed away from the table, grabbing a few chips as she went and headed towards the entrance to greet her son.
“You really don’t have to knock?” a low, (definitely male and definitely new) voice muttered with no little incredulity.
“It’s home, Cas,” Dean said idly. “Grew up here. Kind of weird to knock when my bedroom is up the stairs and to the right.”
Dean’s keys were placed on the table like usual; Mary heard the metallic clink just as she rounded the corner.
“As long as your parents don’t get offended,” ‘Cas’ still seemed uneasy.
Mary’s heart went out to the boy. What must it be like when you feel you have to beg entrance to your childhood home?
“Mom? Dad?” Dean called out.
“Don’t have to shout,” Mary said brightly.
Dean approached with a wide grin and dancing green eyes, wrapping her up in a strong hug that basically lifted her off the floor. Mary laughed and squeezed back tightly, dropping a welcoming kiss on her son’s cheek.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Dean greeted as he released her.
“You too, Baby,” Mary replied. “Now who is this handsome young man?” Handsome was a bit of an understatement and Mary was only someone embarrassed to admit that. The man was a few years older than Dean, with dark hair, European features and stunning blue eyes. He was tall and well built, but a little bit shorter and little bit leaner than Dean. Mary always knew her boy liked pretty things.
“Mom,” Dean shifted his feet a little nervously, looking away with a shy smile on his face. “This is Castiel L’Ange.”
“Castiel the angel,” Mary grinned. “Well the name suits you, Sweetie. Come in, come in. You guys can just drop your bags there for now and take them up later. John’s just dying to meet you, Castiel.”
Castiel blushed.
“He is?” Dean asked skeptically.
Castiel shot panicked blue eyes across to Dean.
Mary glared at her son and smiled at Castiel.
“Of course, he is Dean. It isn’t every holiday you bring someone home,” Mary said sternly. “You’re frightening your date, now go on.”
Dean stopped before he entered the kitchen, Castiel hung back and Mary looked worriedly between the two. Surely she hadn’t misread the situation.
“Ah Mom… Cas isn’t just my date. We’re ah… living together,” Dean said quietly. “I was going to tell you and Dad together, but he gets… funny sometimes. Cas is really important to me, Mom. I need you two to understand that.”
Mary cupped her hands around Dean’s faintly stubbled jaw and smiled at her son. “As long as you’re happy, Baby.” She turned to Castiel and said, “The both of you. Now come into the kitchen already. There’s coffee in the carafe and I can make tea if you prefer.”
Mary took both boys by the hand, startling Castiel who followed obediently despite that. Mary gave Castiel’s hand an extra little squeeze. She had a good feeling about this boy - A very good feeling. And if the light in Dean’s eyes was anything to go by, she had a feeling that Castiel the angel may be around for a long time to come and she may very soon have three sons instead of two.
End
Prompt #3 for snowin_you - **NC-17**
Title: On the Way Home
Prompt: “Oh, if you're in for a smut. Sin with a Grin verse, sex in SUV. (I assume Cas drives an SUV, right?) :D”
“Well this is awkward.”
Castiel flinched from where he was driving white-knuckled. Dean’s seemingly too loud drawl had dashed the little reverie he had fallen into as they made their slow way back from the hospital.
After a week, Dean had finally been released. There was still a minor investigation happening as IA looked into Meg’s shooting, but everyone involved was confident the charges would be dropped. Dean had been working as an undercover agent with the Federal Bureau, after all. Meg had lived (thankfully - for Dean’s rap sheet anyway) and was expected to make a full recovery. Those charges however, were not what the cause of the discomfort in the SUV.
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said neutrally. “I just… I honestly am unsure of where you and I stand. Things became… complicated throughout the duration of this case and I don’t want to further upset you.”
Dean sighed loudly. “Pull over.”
Castiel flinched again but obeyed at the next opportunity. A small community picnic spot came up on the right. It was dark and abandoned at the late hour and it would serve well enough.
“Dude, don’t look like I’m walking you to your death, jeeze. I just want to be able to look at you when we talk about this.”
“About what?” Castiel’s voice was still infuriatingly flat, as he put the vehicle in park and turned off the engine.
“Your completely unnecessary guilt is what,” Dean huffed. “Look, I was pissed okay. I was really, really pissed and you can’t say I don’t have a right to be, when I didn’t have all the facts.”
“I’d never say that,” Castiel said earnestly. “You of course had every right to be. I’m just wondering if-”
“Cas,” Dean said sharply.
Castiel snapped his mouth closed.
Dean inched around in his seat and winced as a few stray twinges of pain flared up. Crowley had given him quite the beating, but he was able to walk around on his own now.
Dean continued, “Tell me, had Meg not drugged you that night would have done what you did?”
“God, never Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, completely aghast at the very notion.
“So why do you keep beating yourself up over it?”
Castiel closed his eyes. “Because it caused you pain, Dean. Isn’t that enough?”
“You didn’t cause it, Cas, your bitch of an ex-girlfriend caused it. You were played, an unwilling participant in something I should have known better than to believe without getting the whole story. Just seeing her there with you at the party and with all the stress, I overreacted. It’s not like you slept with her. You stopped right? At the kiss?”
“Yes.”
“So stop now, all right? You saved my life, I saved your life. I think we’re good. I just want things to be normal again, all right? Can you do that?”
“I want to be able to, very much,” Castiel replied.
“Then normal it is. Now c’mere.”
Castiel complied and leaned across the centre console, his lips meeting Dean’s in what he intended to be a simple and chaste kiss, but the minute their lips met something electric passed between them. It seemed like it had been forever since they could just be them, like this, normal.
Dean pulled Castiel closer as Castiel pressed, and felt more than heard Dean moan against his lips as his tongue snuck out to seek entrance. They spared lazily for a moment, Dean’s hands balling in Castiel’s sweater as Castiel curled one long fingered hand around Dean’s jaw and neck. Just as suddenly as it began though, Castiel was deprived and Dean was scrambling with the door handle behind him.
Castiel’s heart sank, fearing he had pushed too hard.
“Out, out, out,” Dean was saying urgently.
“Dean wh-”
“Out of the car, Cas, then come the fuck over here, Jesus,” Dean was panting, his breath fogging into the cold January night.
Castiel cautiously rounded the front of the SUV and let out a surprised gasp when Dean pulled him roughly by the lapels and pressed him hard against frigid black metal. He saw Dean grimace faintly as his injuries flared up again. Castiel was about to push the taller man away then get them home, but Dean was kissing him again and Castiel relented.
Dean was a solid heat in front of the blue-eyed man, a sharp contrast to the car at his back.
“Dean-” he was interrupted by another kiss, “Dean. It’s cold, wait a minute.”
“Don’t want to wait,” Dean murmured.
“Dean, you aren’t fully-” another kissed interruption, cut Castiel off abruptly and the warmth of Dean’s lips left a blazing trail down Castiel’s chilled jaw.
“Fuck, Dean,” Castiel panted, pushing the taller man away. “Jesus Christ. Get in the fucking car.”
Castiel wrenched open the back seat and manhandled Dean within the confines where the warm air from earlier still lingered. He climbed in afterwards, pulling the door closed behind him. It was a tight fit, neither of them were small men after all.
Dean was staring at him, with lust dazed eyes, but Castiel stayed where he was, realizing he hadn’t thought this through entirely. Dean was strong but it would be difficult for his injured body to take Castiel’s weight regardless of what the other parts of Dean’s anatomy were demanding.
“You always have to be so impatient,” Castiel said softly, fondly.
“I’m not made of fucking glass, Cas. Three weeks. Without being with you and after all this shit we’ve been through.”
“I know,” Castiel finally leaned down and kissed Dean, causing the younger man to moan into his mouth, but it was chaste and cut off quicker than Dean wanted. His faint whimpers from being suddenly without Castiel's lips on his own, followed the agent's retreating form.
Castiel rolled his eyes and climbed out of the back again, jogging over to the other side and opening the other door.
“Up, up,” Castiel encouraged and Dean scrambled to obey, sitting then easing onto his knees as Castiel climbed in and shut the door once more. Then it was a blur of motion as Castiel wriggled underneath Dean and pulled the larger man on top of him, supporting what he could of Dean’s weight from the bottom while falling into the rhythm they had so carefully constructed over the years.
Dean was almost frantic in his pursuit of pleasure, either ignoring his injuries, or they faded into the background as his hands touched Castiel’s heated skin under three layers of winter clothing. Dean kissed and nipped along Castiel jaw, neck, behind his ear breathing teasing air over dampened skin, chilling the saliva which made Castiel shiver pleasantly rather than from the cold. He tightened his fingers in Dean’s heavy cotton jacket, rocking upwards against Dean’s hips, brushing swollen erection to swollen erection with too many layers of clothing in between.
Castiel already knew this would be quick and messy but right now he could give two shits about his Federal vehicle or the undoubted stains that would be left behind on the dark interior.
Castiel was swept up quickly in Dean’s need, his concern for his lover remaining but only peripherally as Dean took the lead for them both, practically ripping into the button fly of Castiel’s jeans.
Castiel couldn’t contain the soft gasp he let loose, at the first brush of Dean’s knuckles against his cotton covered cock and his hands clenched once again against Dean’s back.
“Missed you, Babe,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s ear.
If Castiel were going to reply, he didn’t get the chance, because without ceremony Dean reached under the waistband of Castiel’s boxer-briefs and fisted Castiel’s now throbbing dick.
At that, Castiel gave up on being the docile partner in this and frantically worked on the drawstring of Dean’s sweats, freeing the knot and yanking both pants and boxers down in one swift move. He shoved up Dean’s zippered sweater and t-shirt, then his hips shot up until their erections pressed together in an intimately familiar line.
Dean stuttered Castiel’s name into his ear, his breath sending more pleasant shivers down the blue-eyed man’s spine as the grinded together in the back seat of Castiel’s SUV.
“Oh fuck,” Dean groaned.
It really had been rather long and the emotional stress of the last few weeks had taken their toll, the silken slide of cock against cock overwhelmed all their senses as they gritted their teeth and just felt, the friction pulling them closer and closer to the plateau that they were so eager to launch themselves off of.
All gentle murmurings and whispered endearments were cut off and the only sound that filled the car’s cabin were the harsh pants of their intermingled breaths and the slide of cotton against cotton as they moved together in easy synchronicity.
“Dean I-” Castiel managed before he was coming in a swift, milky stream. Dean stuttered his hips when he felt the additional lubrication and two thrusts later he was following with a sharp cry.
They lay tangled together in the backseat, panting hard, windows so fogged that they were nearly opaque and then they shared a grin in the dark.
“Haven’t done that in a few years,” Dean managed to say.
“Go at it in the back seat of a car like horny teenagers?”
“Got it in one,” Dean chuckled. He pulled back and then pouted, saying piteously, “Ow.”
“No sympathy,” Castiel returned abruptly, though his tenderness when he eased Dean around and fastened his pants once more belied the words. “You had to be impatient.”
“I know, I know,” Dean sighed. “Home?”
“Sounds fantastic,” Castiel agreed. He left Dean sprawled in the back seat, then climbed around behind the wheel again. He turned the car on, set the defroster to high and smiled at Dean through the rear-view mirror. Dean grinned lazily back and shut his eyes.
End
Prompt #4 for usaexpat101
Title: Places In-Between
Prompt: “I also loved Dean Winchester, Stranger Danger and the Big Blue Box...I would love to see Dr who come back to see Dean when he is older and tries to figure out the whole Cas/Dr who relationship or something...”
Dean sat up abruptly in bed when he heard a bizarre, though familiar, grinding whirring sound. Castiel grunted beside him and glared through the dark but didn’t say anything.
Dean listened harder, trying to figure out if the noise was the tail-end of a dream of if it was actually real, when it flared up again he cursed, “No fucking way.”
That got Castiel’s attention. “What is it?”
“No way, there is no way that dude was real. I must be going crazy,” Dean muttered. He had heard that noise twice in his life, once when he was nine and again when he was twelve, though he always had the strangest feeling that twelve was the first time and nine was the second, which was just ridiculous. Regardless though, Dean had to put his fretting to rest and he tossed the cover aside and hopped into discarded jeans.
“Dean?”
“Tell me you didn’t hear that, Cas. I think I rather be crazy than for it to be real.”
“Hear?”
“That whirring-grinding noise like a car driving with a shit engine and the parking break left on.”
Then oddly enough, Castiel already wide blue eyes seemed to widen impossibly further. He too scrambled out of bed and pulled on discarded clothing, buttoning up his shirt as his shoe laces clattered loose on the linoleum floor of their motel room.
“What is he doing here?” Castiel asked more of himself than of Dean.
“Wait, what?”
“I told him I’d call him when I was ready. When you were ready.” Castiel was scrambling out of the door, still muttering angrily to himself and Dean raced to catch up.
“Dean, stay there,” Castiel insisted.
“Cas!” Dean never was one to take orders from angels, even angels he just happened to be sleeping with. Ever stubborn, Dean raced out after Castiel, slipping his bare feet into his discarded boots, grimacing only slightly as his naked skin brushed along the well-worn interior.
Dean’s face went white as he chased the angel down and caught sight of a large blue box sitting in the middle of a quiet parking lot - standing out like a firefly in a pitch black room.
The door swung open and a skinny man stepped out, grinning widely. “Now where did we - Oh!”
The man was just as Dean remembered from twenty years ago. Looking at Castiel, Dean saw clearly that the angel saw the mysterious man as well. Unfortunately, that meant that Dean wasn’t crazy and that this man had been the one to help rescue Sammy from The Shadow.
“Well shit,” Dean mused. “I thought I made you up.”
Castiel looked rapidly behind at Dean. “You know him?”
“Yeah. I met him when I was a kid - twice actually - he said a friend of mine sent him to help me,” Dean replied, still slightly in awe.
“Doctor?” Castiel prodded.
“Castiel!” The Doctor crowed. “I don’t know a thing about that - Things happen to me out of order, after all.”
Dean looked back and forth between both trench-coat-clad men, gaping faintly as the angel met the eyes of the time traveller. There was something odd about the two of them together like that, but at the same time, it kind of fit… In a strange way.
“Castiel!” The Doctor crowed once again then approached the angel, arms spread wide for an embrace. Dean had his defence of Castiel’s social awkwardness poised on his lips but was shocked to see Castiel return the hug tightly before pulling back with a slight smile.
“It’s good to see you again my friend,” Castiel said gently.
“How long has it been for you?” The Doctor asked rocking back on his heels.
Castiel looked over at Dean then back to The Doctor and said, “Thirty-two years. Just before Dean was born and I began watching him, he was the task I told you about. I was to monitor him until he descended to Perdition and then retrieve him at all costs.”
“Thirty-two years,” The Doctor repeated slowly. “Tempus fugit.”
“For some of us,” Castiel said again with that gentle smile. The Doctor grinned back.
Dean suddenly felt like everyone was in on the joke but him and was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the entire situation. He stepped forward haltingly, then more firmly. “All right, hang on just a minute, what the hell is going on?”
“Dean, The Doctor and I used to travel together, a long time ago, after he lost a dear friend of his.”
“Wanted a change of scenery you see, so I popped on over to the good old U.S of A in the middle of the nineteen-seventies and came across a scrappy young man who wasn’t a man a’tall. Popped in again once or twice to say hi, haven’t I? Checked-in and whatnot. Where are we now?” The Doctor took out a pair of paper 3D glasses along with a weird metal thing that glowed blue and made a squealing noise.
“Utah,” Dean gritted. “You really don-”
“Well! Utah… Utah. Never much cared for Utah… All the other States are well and good but something about Utah,” the Doctor seemed to be talking to himself more than the men before and Dean watched warily.
“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is happening?” Dean asked. “Last time I saw you I was twelve fucking years old and now you act like you don’t even know me!”
“Dean,” Castiel said soothingly. “That’s because he doesn’t.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t. I met him, nineteen years ago. I met him.”
“Well,” the Doctor began, “you see, it wasn’t me you met… Well, I suppose it was but not me yet. The reality of it is: people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... time-y-wimey... stuff.” The Doctor grinned impishly and rocked back on his heels again, “Just plagiarised myself there… Good line though. Not as good as allons-y Alonso, but good line. Still haven’t got to use that one, allons-y Alonso, I mean… You know there’ve always been two things I’ve-”
“All right! Jeeze,” Dean rubbed his temples. “Got it. You’re a freak and I’m insane. You and Cas were bunk buddies or whatever you had going on. Awesome. Best night of my life. We should totally do this again sometime but right now I have to go down a bottle of Tylenol and rearrange my brain cells. And perhaps borrow Sam's brain bleaching kit to get the image of your trench-coats flapping in the breeze if you get my drift…”
“This is Dean, Castiel. Really?” the Doctor sent sympathetic eyes towards the angel.
“He really is quite good, Doctor. One of the best men I know,” Castiel defended.
“Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” The Doctor winked.
“Would you like to come in?” Castiel offered.
Dean was shaking his head rapidly, eyes wide.
“I don’t think your little human wants that. But, I should get back to London. Somehow they always manage to get themselves in trouble, nearly Christmas after all. Oh I should say that, shouldn’t I? Happy Christmas!” The Doctor was already retreating into his police box and Dean couldn’t see him go fast enough. This man (or whatever he was) had a way of knocking Dean off-kilter.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” Castiel replied.
The Doctor strode forward quickly as if remembering something and hugged Castiel tightly again.
“I think we’ll be seeing one another very soon,” The Doctor remarked. He sought Dean and flashed a mysterious smile, “All of us, perhaps?”
The Doctor disappeared into his machine and Dean welcomed the finality of the door closing with a tension releasing sigh only to have the moment curtailed by The Doctor poking his head out again and looking at Castiel.
“What year is it?” he asked.
“Two-thousand-ten,” Castiel replied.
“Big year,” The Doctor said strangely, then retreated once more.
They watched the blue box vanish and Dean didn’t miss the strange skinny man at all. But he did begin to wonder if his crazy assumptions that he was a time-traveller had been correct all those years ago.
“He doesn’t… I mean this is crazy, but, he doesn’t travel through time does he?” Dean asked Castiel, turning with anxious eyes.
“That’s exactly what he does,” Castiel replied. “Time and space and - on some rare, occasions - the places in between.”
End
Prompt #6 for montserverus
Title: Something Wicked
Prompt: Something for Halloween. Sam hates it, Dean loves to prank everyone and Cas has no idea what the big deal is. Can be in your verse or not. 8) It is my wedding anniversary so I love the holiday.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean!”
Sam is really pissed off, he normally doesn’t swear that loudly are that descriptively when he isn’t really, really, really pissed off. Rather than get the hell out of dodge and avoid a moose charge, however, Dean just collapses back on his bed consumed with silent laughter, surrounded by bad horror flicks and empty candy wrappers.
Castiel turns slowly and stares curiously at Dean, gaze unwavering but with a hint of an eyebrow raised - silently judging. That’s a new thing of Castiel’s, the whole silently judging thing. The angel sure did pick up on some bad habits in Purgatory. Dean slams a lid on those thoughts before they can go any further, because that is one thing he is not going to dwell on ever the fuck again. Now he has his angel back, Sam’s (mostly) on board with hunting and Dean’s cut all ties with Benny. Purgatory does not need to be thought of again.
“Stop looking at me like that, Dude, it’s fucking hilarious,” Dean snarks, but his uncontrolled grin takes some of the sting out of it. He hears Sam start the shower start and falls into a fit of snickers again. Then he is struck with a brilliant idea and digs a tiny Snickers bar out of his box of candy, popping it in his mouth.
“Did you become a Trickster while I was away?” Castiel is still Silently Judging, his book open in front of him, untouched for the last few minutes.
“Halloween, Man. It’s tradition. Gotta eat candy ‘til I cramp like a sonuvabitch. It’s a thing,” Dean replies idly.
Castiel just sighs - long suffering - and returns his attention to the musty tome on his lap.
Dean half expected Castiel to ask and is a little disappointed when he doesn’t. Half of the fun of Halloween is the ‘trick’ part of Trick-or-Treat.
Dean hasn’t been able to pull out his pranks in the last several years so he plans to come back with a vengeance this year. He started off the campaign with an oldy but a goody: plastic wrap on the toilet seat. He snickers again when he thinks about it and pops a quarter in the Magic Fingers.
Sam comes out a few minutes later, epic bitch-face to end all bitch-faces proudly on display. Dean is studiously ignored and when he tries to catch Sammy’s eye and gloat, Sam only scowls further. Dean’s waiting for the snarky, bitching comment but it never comes. Apparently Sam has opted for the silent treatment. Dean finds himself pouting a little, half the fun of pulling pranks on Sam is the bickering that comes after it.
Dean sighs. His distraction from The Thoughts, having failed spectacularly. He shakes his mournfulness off however and begins to plan the next attempt. He repertoire is immense, after all, and he’s just itching to tap into it again. Just like the Good Ol’ Times. Just like before.
xx
Dean got lucky that they drove long enough for Sam to have to use the little boys’ room at the diner they stopped at for breakfast. Castiel is sitting beside him with yet another book open on the table. Neither Dean, nor Sam has the heart to tell him it’s not polite to read while you’re eating with other people. Cas has been through a lot lately. They let his relatively unsociable behaviour slide.
Dean looks surreptitiously around the diner, making sure no nosy waitresses are glancing their way and slides the sugar and salt shakers towards himself. He first unscrews the metal cap of the sugar shaker and dumps it in Castiel’s coffee cup, which Dean also purloined. Then he dumps the salt in the sugar container and carefully transfers the some of the emptied sugar into the salt. There’s still a ton of sugar in Castiel’s coffee cup, but Cas doesn’t drink coffee anyway - or tea. He sticks to water, which Dean finds boring but not nearly as boring as Castiel’s whole wheat toast (whole grain if they can get it) and butter.
Miracle of miracles, Castiel poses some interest in what Dean is doing. He doesn’t enquire with words so much as his eyes and Dean just grins and tosses Cas a jaunty wink. Castiel looks a little surprised at the gesture and oddly enough a little flustered too. Dean notices but pretends not to and hides his smile behind the menu. Castiel returns to his book and Sam returns to the table.
“Did you order for me?” Sam asks.
“Uh huh,” Dean nods, ‘cause he did. He ordered what Sam wanted too - a vegetable omelette and a side of fruit salad. Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste just thinking about it.
“Cool. Thanks, Man,” Sam said genially. He goes to reach for the sugar jar and Dean tenses in anticipatory glee of the oncoming freak-out.
“Wow, not real big on keeping up on these things, huh?” Sam mentions off-handed wriggling the sugar container. Granted, there is significantly less salt in a jar then there is sugar, but Dean has a ready-made excuse.
He looks around pointedly at the teeming masses. “It is a Sunday morning in a small town, Sam. They poor girls are busy, I mean jeeze… how much sugar do you need?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Just an observation, Dean.”
Once again, Dean is tensed in anticipation as Sam goes to pour the salted-sugar onto his spoon to put in his steaming black coffee. He’s holding his breath and fighting the on-coming smirk. God, just like old times. This is fucking perfect. Screw Purgatory and Hell and death and destruction. Dean’s back with his brother and he’s back with his angel and they’re going to close the fucking gates to Hell. Life is looking up for the first time in seven fucking years.
Dean joy is interrupted by the speedy arrival of their waitress.
“Here you go, Hunnies,” her regional drawl makes what would normally be a light ‘o’ sound a dragged-out ‘u’ and Dean’s instantly endeared. He always did have a fondness for the Southern twang. He forgives her interruption.
“You sure you ain’t gonna want more than that, Sweetie-pie?” she asked Cas as she sets down his toast skeptically.
“No thank you, Miss. This will do nicely,” Castiel said politely. Dean gives Castiel a congratulatory squeeze on the thigh below the table for using those manners they worked so hard to drill into him.
Castiel jumps and his cheeks tinge pink.
The pink matches their waitress who doesn’t seem to notice Castiel’s odd reaction. She waves a dismissive hand and titters, “Oh you, why I’m old enough to be your Meemaw… Calling me ‘miss.’ Such a charmer! Well, you boys enjoy!”
Temporary distraction gone, Dean turns his rapt attention back to Sam just realizing that now he gets to witness not one but two potential freak-outs as Sam sprinkles ‘salt’ on his omelette and puts ‘sugar’ in his coffee.
Dean leaves his own steak and eggs untouched for a moment while Castiel begins to nibble on his toast (and when Dean says nibble he means nibble), Dean’s busy watching Sam and waiting.
Sam takes a surprisingly delicate bite of his omelette and his nose crinkles up, he look speculatively down at his eggs.
“I think they may have spilt some powdered sugar when they were cooking back there,” Sam observes.
“Huh,” Dean replies noncommittally as he stares down at his own breakfast and begins to systematically spread barbeque sauce over his slender steak. He watches under the rim of his eyelids as Sam takes a sip of coffee to wash the sweet eggs down with - it’s not so much a sip as a proper drink, very nearly a gulp. Dean grins, unable to help it anymore and Sam sputters.
“Dean!” Sam roars. Even the attention of the entire diner is not able to dissuade Dean’s uproarious laughter.
“Another prank?” Castiel observes, while Sam storms up to the counter and apparently opts to sit there for the remainder of their meal, taking his untouched fruit bowl with him.
“Yep,” Dean finally digs into his breakfast and his sweet victory makes his meal all the tastier.
“You gain pleasure from causing Sam suffering?”
Dean pauses, not liking how it sounds in those terms. He flounders for a minute before snapping his mouth shut and opening it again with a harshly bit out, “It’s not like that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Whatever, Cas. It’s a joke, all right?”
“Even I could see Sam didn’t find it very funny.”
“Eat your friggin’ toast, Cas.”
Suddenly the steak is dry and the eggs are rubbery. Dean washes it down quickly with coffee that tastes like diluted motor-oil. He ends up paying for all their meals, including Sam’s replacement, and is quiet when they get back on the road.
Sam’s still fuming and Castiel’s still reading.
xx
Dean has his last great prank planned. Halloween is this very day and Dean wants to go out with a bang. His dollar store bag is full of everything he needs and he’s just standing at the bathroom door contemplating when the door to their room opens. Dean tenses, hopes it isn’t Sam because he’d figure it out right away. Also, hopes it isn’t Sam because Sam is still pissy at him and, Jesus, it’s been three fucking days already.
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice is full of inquiry.
Dean turns and is admittedly a little startled that Castiel has instigated a conversation. The angel - former angel - has been more than quiet lately.
“Cas.”
“Is this another… prank?” the word is heavy with awkwardness and even a little unsure on the angel’s tongue.
“Yeah, and it’s a doozy too,” Dean can’t help the grin that splits his face. He’s proud, all right? He’s combining two classics here.
“I see,” Castiel is all set to drift away again, go hide in his little corner of the room and curl up with one of the multitude of books he seems to keep pulling from god-knows-where.
Dean is struck by a crazy idea, his grin curls wider. “Hey, ah… you wanna help? This is the last one. I usually stop at Halloween unless we got a prank war going, but haven’t had one of those since… Well, a long, long time ago.”
Castiel actually looks intrigued and it’s embarrassing to say how heartened Dean is at that. Castiel hasn’t looked intrigued about anything since before Lucifer and Michael were put down. It’s a relief and Dean thinks maybe this might just be the push he needs to get his friend back. They can only have one head-case around at a time after all; they’re already at the imploding point. Sam’s probably going to be the biggest challenge because Dean’s working on his own issues (which is pretty well a miracle in and of itself) and maybe by helping Cas he’ll help himself.
Old routines, old habits, the good old days working toward a common world-saving goal and not just picking up mess after mess after mess. That’s what Dean needs right now and if he can get Cas in on this last prank then well, that’s just perfect. What was more routine back in the day than Dean helping Cas be a little more human?
“I…” Castiel falters, stares hard at the cheap plastic bag in Dean’s hand and takes a few hesitant steps forward. “Will it hurt, Sam?”
“Nah,” Dean waves the thought off. “He’ll catch himself before he falls. Kid may be a giant but he’s got grace when it counts.”
“What do you plan to do?”
Dean celebrates internally. “Come on, I’ll show you. Probably going to need a second pair of hands anyway.”
Castiel approaches, book abandoned and forgotten on the beat-up, lime-green Formica and metal table.
xx
After a good solid, half an hour of steady effort, Dean and Castiel step back to survey their handy-work.
There’s a piece of tissue paper hiding in the glare of the overhead light, Dean tried to find the colour closest to the tobacco yellow of the ceiling. With careful hands and delicate gestures, they’ve attached a low gauge fishing wire to the edges of the paper and strung it carefully along the ceiling and doorframe down to a few inches from the bottom of the door. Hidden away in in the hammock of the tissue paper is Halloween themed confetti, all glittery black bats, orange pumpkins and white ghosts.
That’s not the end of it, Dean decided to tie in a second favourite of his pranks to trigger the mechanism. After all, if Sam had seen the door closed with Dean and Castiel still present and accounted for in the room he would have been suspicious on principle.
For the trigger, Dean pulled clear packing tape taunt between the doorframes, tucking the string under the tape. When Sam stumbles over the poor man’s tripwire he’ll have a shower of confetti fall, with any luck, right no his head. It’ll be beautiful. Dean can’t wait.
“You are certain he will only stumble and not trip?” Castiel asks again, surveying the small bathroom with concern and thinking of Sam’s large, at times ungainly, frame.
Dean huffs, exasperated at answering the same question for the third time, “I’m sure, Cas.”
“This may prove to be rather amusing providing it operates correctly. I’m beginning to see the lure of pranks,” again the word is bit out unnaturally. This time it makes Dean smile.
“Cool. It’ll be awesome, just you wait. Now we gotta act natural for when Sam comes back, we can’t give it away. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble acting uninterested and aloof though.” Dean misses the slight flash of hurt across the former angel’s eyes.
The hunter continues, undaunted, “Just be sure to be careful if you need to take a leak before Sam gets back and shut the door carefully. May take too long to set it up again if we accidently trip it.”
Castiel doesn’t respond; he’s already locked away in his book. Dean worries his lower lip, he doesn’t ask though, he just flicks on the TV and waits for Sam.
xx
When Sam does eventually arrive back at the motel room - nearly two hours later - Dean just barely conceals the gleeful grin he flashes at Cas and he’s gratified to get a hint of a smile in return.
Sam nods a silent greeting to them both and sets down his laptop bag. He tosses Castiel a book and Castiel’s eyes light up as he flips it open. Dean rolls his eyes.
“You know, Dude, there’s more to life than reading,” Dean can’t resist commenting.
“I enjoy reading, Dean. It keeps me occupied. I rather have someone else’s words in my mind than have to battle with my own thoughts,” Castiel replies coolly.
Dean winces. He supposes he’s been a bit insensitive lately. Castiel is dealing with a lot of shit, more than Dean is really. On top of the horrors of That Place, combined with the guilt the Winchesters tend to soak in, Castiel also has to deal with becoming human and the guilt of betraying Dean along with nearly destroying the world.
“Sorry, Man,” Dean says quietly.
Castiel looks up and he looks a little surprised, his mouth opens soundlessly for a second before he says, “Thank you, Dean.”
“You two are adorable,” Sam drawls. Dean blushes and scowls, while Castiel returns his attention to his book. That is, until Sam heads to the bathroom.
Dean subtly shifts and Castiel’s eyes flick up from the words before him. They both wait, breaths held. They hear it before they see it. Sam squawks loudly and they hear him stumble onto the bathroom tile. Thankfully, no crash follows and Dean’s assumption of Sam’s ability to catch himself was right. Then they hear a sound of unchecked surprise followed quickly but sputtering. Dean begins to laugh lowly, already picturing the sight Sam will be to behold and Castiel’s mouth is twitching, almost smiling but not quite. Then, much to the surprise of both the human and fallen angel they hear Sam’s deep rumbling chuckles spill out of the bathroom. He enters the main area of the motel room a moment later and just shakes his head slowly at Dean.
Dean allows himself to laugh outright now, because Sam decorated in tiny metallic ghosts, bats and pumpkins is too hilarious to not laugh. He is surprised when he hears an unfamiliar snicker and turns to Castiel who’s mouth his twitching almost convulsively now as he tries to keep it in check.
“Let it out, Dude,” Dean tells the blue-eyed man through his laughter. “Just do it. Think of it as therapy.”
Then Castiel does. Dean’s never heard Castiel laugh properly before. It’s higher than he expects coming out of a being who usually speak in such low tones, but it’s warm and soft and makes the lines crinkle around Castiel’s eyes, his white teeth flashing. Their mutual laughter is made all that much more contagious and soon the three of them are breathless, with aching diaphragms and wet eyes.
When at last they laughter begins to slow they exchange grins and settle back.
“Very clever, Dean,” Sam eventually says. “I’ll give you points for that one. Just this once, though.”
Dean feels pretty good, better than he has in a long time and he’d bet Baby that Sammy and Cas feel pretty good too.
The End
Prompt #5 to come later!
Title: Breast Milk, Bottles and Bouncing Boys
Prompt: “Oh oh, Sin with a Grin verse, Dean and Cas babysitting Seb. :DD”
When the sharp cry split the air, Dean was momentarily confused. He sat up, looked wildly around and then remembered. Right. Sam and Jess were on their honeymoon and Dean and Cas were taking care of baby Sebastian. Dean looked to his side and wondered if Castiel was groaning and bitching about being woken up at ass o’clock in the morning but was completely startled to see Castiel’s side of the bed was empty - just a pile of rumbled sheets.
Dean boggled for a moment and realized belatedly that the crying had been short lived. Confused, but figuring the situation out quickly, Dean got up and padded into the kitchen. He stilled at the doorway, and could only smile at the sight.
Castiel was pacing quietly back and forth, gently jiggling Seb and whispering what could only be soothing words into the infant’s ear. As Castiel turned, he caught sight of Dean in the doorway and smiled back.
“Good morning,” Castiel greeted, shockingly chipper for quarter-to-seven. “Could you check on the bottle?”
“You’re awake,” Dean said dumbly.
“Astute observation, Watson. You should do this professionally,” Castiel replied wryly.
“Dude, it isn’t even seven yet and you are awake.”
“Baby,” Castiel said slowly. “Hungry baby who needs attention. Besides, you were up late last night with him, it’s only fair. The bottle, Dean?”
Dean shook off his shock. “Right, right. Bottle.” Dean walked over to the pot on the stove and pulled the bottle free. He was still slightly weirded out to be handling his sister-in-law’s pre-pumped breast milk but what was good for his nephew was more than good for Dean. He tested a small drop and his wrist, and satisfied, carried it over to Castiel.
“What me to…?” Dean offered.
“I got it,” Castiel replied. “Thank you. I’ve been Uncle Cas for the last eight years, got this covered,” Castiel winked to take some of the potential sting from his words and Dean settled back to watch.
Castiel looked damn good with a baby.
End
Prompt #2 for cami75
Title: Meet the Parents
Prompt: “Oh well, Sin with a Grin verse, Castiel meets the parents or Dean talks to Mary about Cas for the first time.”
Mary silently entered the sitting room and placed John’s coffee on the table next to his armchair. Then she placed her own cup of tea on the coffee table and took up her place on the couch, picking up her Home Living magazine and flipping through it.
“Dean’s bringing someone to Thanksgiving,” Mary said.
“Someone? Like a friend or…?” John asked.
“He didn’t say. Just someone.”
John folded down the corner of his paper and looked over at Mary, who looked up from her magazine and stared back levelly.
“Someone,” John repeated.
“Someone.”
“Dean hasn’t brought someone home since Lisa. Did we like her?”
“Not particularly, no,” Mary sipped her tea primly. “He must be pretty serious about this someone.”
“Huh,” John turned back to his paper.
Mary placed her tea lightly on the coffee table and flipped through a few more pages of the magazine.
“Sam seemed to hint that this someone might not be a female someone,” Mary said after a few moments.
John folded the paper down again and quirked a brow. “Give me some credit, Mary. My own brother doesn’t like female someones.”
“Eldest sons are different than brothers.”
“Do you have a problem with it?” John challenged.
Mary snorted. “Hardly. I just know how you get sometimes, John Eric Winchester, that’s all. I just want you to be kind. Like we said, Dean hasn’t brought anyone home since Lisa and that was nearly ten years ago.”
“We didn’t like Lisa, Mary.”
Mary sighed, “Yes, I handled that situation poorly, I can admit that now. I should have been more willing to accept his happiness, regardless of my personal feelings. This time though, I just want to be sure we are both on the same page. Even if we don’t like this someone - male or female - we let Dean make his own mistakes or triumphs. I don’t want to lose him again, John.”
John met Mary’s eye and said seriously, “He’s always been your boy, Mary. You won’t lose him.”
“He didn’t speak to us for a year after he told us about Lisa, John.”
“Won’t happen again. Dean’s thirty-years-old. If we don’t start trusting his decisions now, then we may as well have lost him already. I’ll behave. Promise.”
“Thank you,” Mary took another sip of tea and turned back to her magazine.
John drank half his coffee and turned back to his paper.
xx
Sam and Jess arrived first. Mary and John weren’t surprised. Sam may not be always the most punctual but Jessica certainly was.
Now Jessica, Jessica was a good girl. John and Mary had liked her right away and Sam’s happiness was clear. Besides, she was a pediatric nurse that in and of itself was admirable, let alone all of Jessica’s other fine qualities. Mary just wondered what on Earth was keeping Sam from proposing. Sam cited school and work as the cause, John figured Sam just wasn’t ready to grow up. Mary and John had fought over that one. Though fighting for them was more usual than unusual.
“So, Sam, who is this someone Dean’s bringing?” Mary couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
John rolled his eyes.
They were gathered in the kitchen drinking coffee and nibbling appetizers, before the main meal. All of them were anxiously waiting on Dean, but none of them actually said it.
“A good person,” Sam answered cryptically. “Don’t pry it out of me, Mom. I promised Dean I wouldn’t say anything.”
“I don’t get what the big secret is,” John huffed.
“One word guys: Lisa. He’s been freaking out about this for the last week. He’s terrified you won’t like his guest and he’s really, really serious about them. I mean they-”
Mary saw Jess jostle and smile politely. Jessica must have elbowed or kicked Sam under the table or something, because Sam snapped his mouth shut and looked away.
“Still don’t get the big secret,” John grumbled. John did enjoy grumbling.
They were saved by making further awkward small talk, when, the familiar rumble of a familiar engine, reached their ears.
“Impala,” Sam said needlessly.
“Can’t believe your brother kept that old thing. I mean she’s a good piece of machinery but aren’t you young guys supposed all want new yellow Camaros, or something?” John remarked.
“Oh John,” Mary rolled her eyes this time. She pushed away from the table, grabbing a few chips as she went and headed towards the entrance to greet her son.
“You really don’t have to knock?” a low, (definitely male and definitely new) voice muttered with no little incredulity.
“It’s home, Cas,” Dean said idly. “Grew up here. Kind of weird to knock when my bedroom is up the stairs and to the right.”
Dean’s keys were placed on the table like usual; Mary heard the metallic clink just as she rounded the corner.
“As long as your parents don’t get offended,” ‘Cas’ still seemed uneasy.
Mary’s heart went out to the boy. What must it be like when you feel you have to beg entrance to your childhood home?
“Mom? Dad?” Dean called out.
“Don’t have to shout,” Mary said brightly.
Dean approached with a wide grin and dancing green eyes, wrapping her up in a strong hug that basically lifted her off the floor. Mary laughed and squeezed back tightly, dropping a welcoming kiss on her son’s cheek.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Dean greeted as he released her.
“You too, Baby,” Mary replied. “Now who is this handsome young man?” Handsome was a bit of an understatement and Mary was only someone embarrassed to admit that. The man was a few years older than Dean, with dark hair, European features and stunning blue eyes. He was tall and well built, but a little bit shorter and little bit leaner than Dean. Mary always knew her boy liked pretty things.
“Mom,” Dean shifted his feet a little nervously, looking away with a shy smile on his face. “This is Castiel L’Ange.”
“Castiel the angel,” Mary grinned. “Well the name suits you, Sweetie. Come in, come in. You guys can just drop your bags there for now and take them up later. John’s just dying to meet you, Castiel.”
Castiel blushed.
“He is?” Dean asked skeptically.
Castiel shot panicked blue eyes across to Dean.
Mary glared at her son and smiled at Castiel.
“Of course, he is Dean. It isn’t every holiday you bring someone home,” Mary said sternly. “You’re frightening your date, now go on.”
Dean stopped before he entered the kitchen, Castiel hung back and Mary looked worriedly between the two. Surely she hadn’t misread the situation.
“Ah Mom… Cas isn’t just my date. We’re ah… living together,” Dean said quietly. “I was going to tell you and Dad together, but he gets… funny sometimes. Cas is really important to me, Mom. I need you two to understand that.”
Mary cupped her hands around Dean’s faintly stubbled jaw and smiled at her son. “As long as you’re happy, Baby.” She turned to Castiel and said, “The both of you. Now come into the kitchen already. There’s coffee in the carafe and I can make tea if you prefer.”
Mary took both boys by the hand, startling Castiel who followed obediently despite that. Mary gave Castiel’s hand an extra little squeeze. She had a good feeling about this boy - A very good feeling. And if the light in Dean’s eyes was anything to go by, she had a feeling that Castiel the angel may be around for a long time to come and she may very soon have three sons instead of two.
End
Prompt #3 for snowin_you - **NC-17**
Title: On the Way Home
Prompt: “Oh, if you're in for a smut. Sin with a Grin verse, sex in SUV. (I assume Cas drives an SUV, right?) :D”
“Well this is awkward.”
Castiel flinched from where he was driving white-knuckled. Dean’s seemingly too loud drawl had dashed the little reverie he had fallen into as they made their slow way back from the hospital.
After a week, Dean had finally been released. There was still a minor investigation happening as IA looked into Meg’s shooting, but everyone involved was confident the charges would be dropped. Dean had been working as an undercover agent with the Federal Bureau, after all. Meg had lived (thankfully - for Dean’s rap sheet anyway) and was expected to make a full recovery. Those charges however, were not what the cause of the discomfort in the SUV.
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said neutrally. “I just… I honestly am unsure of where you and I stand. Things became… complicated throughout the duration of this case and I don’t want to further upset you.”
Dean sighed loudly. “Pull over.”
Castiel flinched again but obeyed at the next opportunity. A small community picnic spot came up on the right. It was dark and abandoned at the late hour and it would serve well enough.
“Dude, don’t look like I’m walking you to your death, jeeze. I just want to be able to look at you when we talk about this.”
“About what?” Castiel’s voice was still infuriatingly flat, as he put the vehicle in park and turned off the engine.
“Your completely unnecessary guilt is what,” Dean huffed. “Look, I was pissed okay. I was really, really pissed and you can’t say I don’t have a right to be, when I didn’t have all the facts.”
“I’d never say that,” Castiel said earnestly. “You of course had every right to be. I’m just wondering if-”
“Cas,” Dean said sharply.
Castiel snapped his mouth closed.
Dean inched around in his seat and winced as a few stray twinges of pain flared up. Crowley had given him quite the beating, but he was able to walk around on his own now.
Dean continued, “Tell me, had Meg not drugged you that night would have done what you did?”
“God, never Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, completely aghast at the very notion.
“So why do you keep beating yourself up over it?”
Castiel closed his eyes. “Because it caused you pain, Dean. Isn’t that enough?”
“You didn’t cause it, Cas, your bitch of an ex-girlfriend caused it. You were played, an unwilling participant in something I should have known better than to believe without getting the whole story. Just seeing her there with you at the party and with all the stress, I overreacted. It’s not like you slept with her. You stopped right? At the kiss?”
“Yes.”
“So stop now, all right? You saved my life, I saved your life. I think we’re good. I just want things to be normal again, all right? Can you do that?”
“I want to be able to, very much,” Castiel replied.
“Then normal it is. Now c’mere.”
Castiel complied and leaned across the centre console, his lips meeting Dean’s in what he intended to be a simple and chaste kiss, but the minute their lips met something electric passed between them. It seemed like it had been forever since they could just be them, like this, normal.
Dean pulled Castiel closer as Castiel pressed, and felt more than heard Dean moan against his lips as his tongue snuck out to seek entrance. They spared lazily for a moment, Dean’s hands balling in Castiel’s sweater as Castiel curled one long fingered hand around Dean’s jaw and neck. Just as suddenly as it began though, Castiel was deprived and Dean was scrambling with the door handle behind him.
Castiel’s heart sank, fearing he had pushed too hard.
“Out, out, out,” Dean was saying urgently.
“Dean wh-”
“Out of the car, Cas, then come the fuck over here, Jesus,” Dean was panting, his breath fogging into the cold January night.
Castiel cautiously rounded the front of the SUV and let out a surprised gasp when Dean pulled him roughly by the lapels and pressed him hard against frigid black metal. He saw Dean grimace faintly as his injuries flared up again. Castiel was about to push the taller man away then get them home, but Dean was kissing him again and Castiel relented.
Dean was a solid heat in front of the blue-eyed man, a sharp contrast to the car at his back.
“Dean-” he was interrupted by another kiss, “Dean. It’s cold, wait a minute.”
“Don’t want to wait,” Dean murmured.
“Dean, you aren’t fully-” another kissed interruption, cut Castiel off abruptly and the warmth of Dean’s lips left a blazing trail down Castiel’s chilled jaw.
“Fuck, Dean,” Castiel panted, pushing the taller man away. “Jesus Christ. Get in the fucking car.”
Castiel wrenched open the back seat and manhandled Dean within the confines where the warm air from earlier still lingered. He climbed in afterwards, pulling the door closed behind him. It was a tight fit, neither of them were small men after all.
Dean was staring at him, with lust dazed eyes, but Castiel stayed where he was, realizing he hadn’t thought this through entirely. Dean was strong but it would be difficult for his injured body to take Castiel’s weight regardless of what the other parts of Dean’s anatomy were demanding.
“You always have to be so impatient,” Castiel said softly, fondly.
“I’m not made of fucking glass, Cas. Three weeks. Without being with you and after all this shit we’ve been through.”
“I know,” Castiel finally leaned down and kissed Dean, causing the younger man to moan into his mouth, but it was chaste and cut off quicker than Dean wanted. His faint whimpers from being suddenly without Castiel's lips on his own, followed the agent's retreating form.
Castiel rolled his eyes and climbed out of the back again, jogging over to the other side and opening the other door.
“Up, up,” Castiel encouraged and Dean scrambled to obey, sitting then easing onto his knees as Castiel climbed in and shut the door once more. Then it was a blur of motion as Castiel wriggled underneath Dean and pulled the larger man on top of him, supporting what he could of Dean’s weight from the bottom while falling into the rhythm they had so carefully constructed over the years.
Dean was almost frantic in his pursuit of pleasure, either ignoring his injuries, or they faded into the background as his hands touched Castiel’s heated skin under three layers of winter clothing. Dean kissed and nipped along Castiel jaw, neck, behind his ear breathing teasing air over dampened skin, chilling the saliva which made Castiel shiver pleasantly rather than from the cold. He tightened his fingers in Dean’s heavy cotton jacket, rocking upwards against Dean’s hips, brushing swollen erection to swollen erection with too many layers of clothing in between.
Castiel already knew this would be quick and messy but right now he could give two shits about his Federal vehicle or the undoubted stains that would be left behind on the dark interior.
Castiel was swept up quickly in Dean’s need, his concern for his lover remaining but only peripherally as Dean took the lead for them both, practically ripping into the button fly of Castiel’s jeans.
Castiel couldn’t contain the soft gasp he let loose, at the first brush of Dean’s knuckles against his cotton covered cock and his hands clenched once again against Dean’s back.
“Missed you, Babe,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s ear.
If Castiel were going to reply, he didn’t get the chance, because without ceremony Dean reached under the waistband of Castiel’s boxer-briefs and fisted Castiel’s now throbbing dick.
At that, Castiel gave up on being the docile partner in this and frantically worked on the drawstring of Dean’s sweats, freeing the knot and yanking both pants and boxers down in one swift move. He shoved up Dean’s zippered sweater and t-shirt, then his hips shot up until their erections pressed together in an intimately familiar line.
Dean stuttered Castiel’s name into his ear, his breath sending more pleasant shivers down the blue-eyed man’s spine as the grinded together in the back seat of Castiel’s SUV.
“Oh fuck,” Dean groaned.
It really had been rather long and the emotional stress of the last few weeks had taken their toll, the silken slide of cock against cock overwhelmed all their senses as they gritted their teeth and just felt, the friction pulling them closer and closer to the plateau that they were so eager to launch themselves off of.
All gentle murmurings and whispered endearments were cut off and the only sound that filled the car’s cabin were the harsh pants of their intermingled breaths and the slide of cotton against cotton as they moved together in easy synchronicity.
“Dean I-” Castiel managed before he was coming in a swift, milky stream. Dean stuttered his hips when he felt the additional lubrication and two thrusts later he was following with a sharp cry.
They lay tangled together in the backseat, panting hard, windows so fogged that they were nearly opaque and then they shared a grin in the dark.
“Haven’t done that in a few years,” Dean managed to say.
“Go at it in the back seat of a car like horny teenagers?”
“Got it in one,” Dean chuckled. He pulled back and then pouted, saying piteously, “Ow.”
“No sympathy,” Castiel returned abruptly, though his tenderness when he eased Dean around and fastened his pants once more belied the words. “You had to be impatient.”
“I know, I know,” Dean sighed. “Home?”
“Sounds fantastic,” Castiel agreed. He left Dean sprawled in the back seat, then climbed around behind the wheel again. He turned the car on, set the defroster to high and smiled at Dean through the rear-view mirror. Dean grinned lazily back and shut his eyes.
End
Prompt #4 for usaexpat101
Title: Places In-Between
Prompt: “I also loved Dean Winchester, Stranger Danger and the Big Blue Box...I would love to see Dr who come back to see Dean when he is older and tries to figure out the whole Cas/Dr who relationship or something...”
Dean sat up abruptly in bed when he heard a bizarre, though familiar, grinding whirring sound. Castiel grunted beside him and glared through the dark but didn’t say anything.
Dean listened harder, trying to figure out if the noise was the tail-end of a dream of if it was actually real, when it flared up again he cursed, “No fucking way.”
That got Castiel’s attention. “What is it?”
“No way, there is no way that dude was real. I must be going crazy,” Dean muttered. He had heard that noise twice in his life, once when he was nine and again when he was twelve, though he always had the strangest feeling that twelve was the first time and nine was the second, which was just ridiculous. Regardless though, Dean had to put his fretting to rest and he tossed the cover aside and hopped into discarded jeans.
“Dean?”
“Tell me you didn’t hear that, Cas. I think I rather be crazy than for it to be real.”
“Hear?”
“That whirring-grinding noise like a car driving with a shit engine and the parking break left on.”
Then oddly enough, Castiel already wide blue eyes seemed to widen impossibly further. He too scrambled out of bed and pulled on discarded clothing, buttoning up his shirt as his shoe laces clattered loose on the linoleum floor of their motel room.
“What is he doing here?” Castiel asked more of himself than of Dean.
“Wait, what?”
“I told him I’d call him when I was ready. When you were ready.” Castiel was scrambling out of the door, still muttering angrily to himself and Dean raced to catch up.
“Dean, stay there,” Castiel insisted.
“Cas!” Dean never was one to take orders from angels, even angels he just happened to be sleeping with. Ever stubborn, Dean raced out after Castiel, slipping his bare feet into his discarded boots, grimacing only slightly as his naked skin brushed along the well-worn interior.
Dean’s face went white as he chased the angel down and caught sight of a large blue box sitting in the middle of a quiet parking lot - standing out like a firefly in a pitch black room.
The door swung open and a skinny man stepped out, grinning widely. “Now where did we - Oh!”
The man was just as Dean remembered from twenty years ago. Looking at Castiel, Dean saw clearly that the angel saw the mysterious man as well. Unfortunately, that meant that Dean wasn’t crazy and that this man had been the one to help rescue Sammy from The Shadow.
“Well shit,” Dean mused. “I thought I made you up.”
Castiel looked rapidly behind at Dean. “You know him?”
“Yeah. I met him when I was a kid - twice actually - he said a friend of mine sent him to help me,” Dean replied, still slightly in awe.
“Doctor?” Castiel prodded.
“Castiel!” The Doctor crowed. “I don’t know a thing about that - Things happen to me out of order, after all.”
Dean looked back and forth between both trench-coat-clad men, gaping faintly as the angel met the eyes of the time traveller. There was something odd about the two of them together like that, but at the same time, it kind of fit… In a strange way.
“Castiel!” The Doctor crowed once again then approached the angel, arms spread wide for an embrace. Dean had his defence of Castiel’s social awkwardness poised on his lips but was shocked to see Castiel return the hug tightly before pulling back with a slight smile.
“It’s good to see you again my friend,” Castiel said gently.
“How long has it been for you?” The Doctor asked rocking back on his heels.
Castiel looked over at Dean then back to The Doctor and said, “Thirty-two years. Just before Dean was born and I began watching him, he was the task I told you about. I was to monitor him until he descended to Perdition and then retrieve him at all costs.”
“Thirty-two years,” The Doctor repeated slowly. “Tempus fugit.”
“For some of us,” Castiel said again with that gentle smile. The Doctor grinned back.
Dean suddenly felt like everyone was in on the joke but him and was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the entire situation. He stepped forward haltingly, then more firmly. “All right, hang on just a minute, what the hell is going on?”
“Dean, The Doctor and I used to travel together, a long time ago, after he lost a dear friend of his.”
“Wanted a change of scenery you see, so I popped on over to the good old U.S of A in the middle of the nineteen-seventies and came across a scrappy young man who wasn’t a man a’tall. Popped in again once or twice to say hi, haven’t I? Checked-in and whatnot. Where are we now?” The Doctor took out a pair of paper 3D glasses along with a weird metal thing that glowed blue and made a squealing noise.
“Utah,” Dean gritted. “You really don-”
“Well! Utah… Utah. Never much cared for Utah… All the other States are well and good but something about Utah,” the Doctor seemed to be talking to himself more than the men before and Dean watched warily.
“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is happening?” Dean asked. “Last time I saw you I was twelve fucking years old and now you act like you don’t even know me!”
“Dean,” Castiel said soothingly. “That’s because he doesn’t.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t. I met him, nineteen years ago. I met him.”
“Well,” the Doctor began, “you see, it wasn’t me you met… Well, I suppose it was but not me yet. The reality of it is: people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... time-y-wimey... stuff.” The Doctor grinned impishly and rocked back on his heels again, “Just plagiarised myself there… Good line though. Not as good as allons-y Alonso, but good line. Still haven’t got to use that one, allons-y Alonso, I mean… You know there’ve always been two things I’ve-”
“All right! Jeeze,” Dean rubbed his temples. “Got it. You’re a freak and I’m insane. You and Cas were bunk buddies or whatever you had going on. Awesome. Best night of my life. We should totally do this again sometime but right now I have to go down a bottle of Tylenol and rearrange my brain cells. And perhaps borrow Sam's brain bleaching kit to get the image of your trench-coats flapping in the breeze if you get my drift…”
“This is Dean, Castiel. Really?” the Doctor sent sympathetic eyes towards the angel.
“He really is quite good, Doctor. One of the best men I know,” Castiel defended.
“Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” The Doctor winked.
“Would you like to come in?” Castiel offered.
Dean was shaking his head rapidly, eyes wide.
“I don’t think your little human wants that. But, I should get back to London. Somehow they always manage to get themselves in trouble, nearly Christmas after all. Oh I should say that, shouldn’t I? Happy Christmas!” The Doctor was already retreating into his police box and Dean couldn’t see him go fast enough. This man (or whatever he was) had a way of knocking Dean off-kilter.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” Castiel replied.
The Doctor strode forward quickly as if remembering something and hugged Castiel tightly again.
“I think we’ll be seeing one another very soon,” The Doctor remarked. He sought Dean and flashed a mysterious smile, “All of us, perhaps?”
The Doctor disappeared into his machine and Dean welcomed the finality of the door closing with a tension releasing sigh only to have the moment curtailed by The Doctor poking his head out again and looking at Castiel.
“What year is it?” he asked.
“Two-thousand-ten,” Castiel replied.
“Big year,” The Doctor said strangely, then retreated once more.
They watched the blue box vanish and Dean didn’t miss the strange skinny man at all. But he did begin to wonder if his crazy assumptions that he was a time-traveller had been correct all those years ago.
“He doesn’t… I mean this is crazy, but, he doesn’t travel through time does he?” Dean asked Castiel, turning with anxious eyes.
“That’s exactly what he does,” Castiel replied. “Time and space and - on some rare, occasions - the places in between.”
End
Prompt #6 for montserverus
Title: Something Wicked
Prompt: Something for Halloween. Sam hates it, Dean loves to prank everyone and Cas has no idea what the big deal is. Can be in your verse or not. 8) It is my wedding anniversary so I love the holiday.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean!”
Sam is really pissed off, he normally doesn’t swear that loudly are that descriptively when he isn’t really, really, really pissed off. Rather than get the hell out of dodge and avoid a moose charge, however, Dean just collapses back on his bed consumed with silent laughter, surrounded by bad horror flicks and empty candy wrappers.
Castiel turns slowly and stares curiously at Dean, gaze unwavering but with a hint of an eyebrow raised - silently judging. That’s a new thing of Castiel’s, the whole silently judging thing. The angel sure did pick up on some bad habits in Purgatory. Dean slams a lid on those thoughts before they can go any further, because that is one thing he is not going to dwell on ever the fuck again. Now he has his angel back, Sam’s (mostly) on board with hunting and Dean’s cut all ties with Benny. Purgatory does not need to be thought of again.
“Stop looking at me like that, Dude, it’s fucking hilarious,” Dean snarks, but his uncontrolled grin takes some of the sting out of it. He hears Sam start the shower start and falls into a fit of snickers again. Then he is struck with a brilliant idea and digs a tiny Snickers bar out of his box of candy, popping it in his mouth.
“Did you become a Trickster while I was away?” Castiel is still Silently Judging, his book open in front of him, untouched for the last few minutes.
“Halloween, Man. It’s tradition. Gotta eat candy ‘til I cramp like a sonuvabitch. It’s a thing,” Dean replies idly.
Castiel just sighs - long suffering - and returns his attention to the musty tome on his lap.
Dean half expected Castiel to ask and is a little disappointed when he doesn’t. Half of the fun of Halloween is the ‘trick’ part of Trick-or-Treat.
Dean hasn’t been able to pull out his pranks in the last several years so he plans to come back with a vengeance this year. He started off the campaign with an oldy but a goody: plastic wrap on the toilet seat. He snickers again when he thinks about it and pops a quarter in the Magic Fingers.
Sam comes out a few minutes later, epic bitch-face to end all bitch-faces proudly on display. Dean is studiously ignored and when he tries to catch Sammy’s eye and gloat, Sam only scowls further. Dean’s waiting for the snarky, bitching comment but it never comes. Apparently Sam has opted for the silent treatment. Dean finds himself pouting a little, half the fun of pulling pranks on Sam is the bickering that comes after it.
Dean sighs. His distraction from The Thoughts, having failed spectacularly. He shakes his mournfulness off however and begins to plan the next attempt. He repertoire is immense, after all, and he’s just itching to tap into it again. Just like the Good Ol’ Times. Just like before.
xx
Dean got lucky that they drove long enough for Sam to have to use the little boys’ room at the diner they stopped at for breakfast. Castiel is sitting beside him with yet another book open on the table. Neither Dean, nor Sam has the heart to tell him it’s not polite to read while you’re eating with other people. Cas has been through a lot lately. They let his relatively unsociable behaviour slide.
Dean looks surreptitiously around the diner, making sure no nosy waitresses are glancing their way and slides the sugar and salt shakers towards himself. He first unscrews the metal cap of the sugar shaker and dumps it in Castiel’s coffee cup, which Dean also purloined. Then he dumps the salt in the sugar container and carefully transfers the some of the emptied sugar into the salt. There’s still a ton of sugar in Castiel’s coffee cup, but Cas doesn’t drink coffee anyway - or tea. He sticks to water, which Dean finds boring but not nearly as boring as Castiel’s whole wheat toast (whole grain if they can get it) and butter.
Miracle of miracles, Castiel poses some interest in what Dean is doing. He doesn’t enquire with words so much as his eyes and Dean just grins and tosses Cas a jaunty wink. Castiel looks a little surprised at the gesture and oddly enough a little flustered too. Dean notices but pretends not to and hides his smile behind the menu. Castiel returns to his book and Sam returns to the table.
“Did you order for me?” Sam asks.
“Uh huh,” Dean nods, ‘cause he did. He ordered what Sam wanted too - a vegetable omelette and a side of fruit salad. Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste just thinking about it.
“Cool. Thanks, Man,” Sam said genially. He goes to reach for the sugar jar and Dean tenses in anticipatory glee of the oncoming freak-out.
“Wow, not real big on keeping up on these things, huh?” Sam mentions off-handed wriggling the sugar container. Granted, there is significantly less salt in a jar then there is sugar, but Dean has a ready-made excuse.
He looks around pointedly at the teeming masses. “It is a Sunday morning in a small town, Sam. They poor girls are busy, I mean jeeze… how much sugar do you need?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Just an observation, Dean.”
Once again, Dean is tensed in anticipation as Sam goes to pour the salted-sugar onto his spoon to put in his steaming black coffee. He’s holding his breath and fighting the on-coming smirk. God, just like old times. This is fucking perfect. Screw Purgatory and Hell and death and destruction. Dean’s back with his brother and he’s back with his angel and they’re going to close the fucking gates to Hell. Life is looking up for the first time in seven fucking years.
Dean joy is interrupted by the speedy arrival of their waitress.
“Here you go, Hunnies,” her regional drawl makes what would normally be a light ‘o’ sound a dragged-out ‘u’ and Dean’s instantly endeared. He always did have a fondness for the Southern twang. He forgives her interruption.
“You sure you ain’t gonna want more than that, Sweetie-pie?” she asked Cas as she sets down his toast skeptically.
“No thank you, Miss. This will do nicely,” Castiel said politely. Dean gives Castiel a congratulatory squeeze on the thigh below the table for using those manners they worked so hard to drill into him.
Castiel jumps and his cheeks tinge pink.
The pink matches their waitress who doesn’t seem to notice Castiel’s odd reaction. She waves a dismissive hand and titters, “Oh you, why I’m old enough to be your Meemaw… Calling me ‘miss.’ Such a charmer! Well, you boys enjoy!”
Temporary distraction gone, Dean turns his rapt attention back to Sam just realizing that now he gets to witness not one but two potential freak-outs as Sam sprinkles ‘salt’ on his omelette and puts ‘sugar’ in his coffee.
Dean leaves his own steak and eggs untouched for a moment while Castiel begins to nibble on his toast (and when Dean says nibble he means nibble), Dean’s busy watching Sam and waiting.
Sam takes a surprisingly delicate bite of his omelette and his nose crinkles up, he look speculatively down at his eggs.
“I think they may have spilt some powdered sugar when they were cooking back there,” Sam observes.
“Huh,” Dean replies noncommittally as he stares down at his own breakfast and begins to systematically spread barbeque sauce over his slender steak. He watches under the rim of his eyelids as Sam takes a sip of coffee to wash the sweet eggs down with - it’s not so much a sip as a proper drink, very nearly a gulp. Dean grins, unable to help it anymore and Sam sputters.
“Dean!” Sam roars. Even the attention of the entire diner is not able to dissuade Dean’s uproarious laughter.
“Another prank?” Castiel observes, while Sam storms up to the counter and apparently opts to sit there for the remainder of their meal, taking his untouched fruit bowl with him.
“Yep,” Dean finally digs into his breakfast and his sweet victory makes his meal all the tastier.
“You gain pleasure from causing Sam suffering?”
Dean pauses, not liking how it sounds in those terms. He flounders for a minute before snapping his mouth shut and opening it again with a harshly bit out, “It’s not like that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Whatever, Cas. It’s a joke, all right?”
“Even I could see Sam didn’t find it very funny.”
“Eat your friggin’ toast, Cas.”
Suddenly the steak is dry and the eggs are rubbery. Dean washes it down quickly with coffee that tastes like diluted motor-oil. He ends up paying for all their meals, including Sam’s replacement, and is quiet when they get back on the road.
Sam’s still fuming and Castiel’s still reading.
xx
Dean has his last great prank planned. Halloween is this very day and Dean wants to go out with a bang. His dollar store bag is full of everything he needs and he’s just standing at the bathroom door contemplating when the door to their room opens. Dean tenses, hopes it isn’t Sam because he’d figure it out right away. Also, hopes it isn’t Sam because Sam is still pissy at him and, Jesus, it’s been three fucking days already.
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice is full of inquiry.
Dean turns and is admittedly a little startled that Castiel has instigated a conversation. The angel - former angel - has been more than quiet lately.
“Cas.”
“Is this another… prank?” the word is heavy with awkwardness and even a little unsure on the angel’s tongue.
“Yeah, and it’s a doozy too,” Dean can’t help the grin that splits his face. He’s proud, all right? He’s combining two classics here.
“I see,” Castiel is all set to drift away again, go hide in his little corner of the room and curl up with one of the multitude of books he seems to keep pulling from god-knows-where.
Dean is struck by a crazy idea, his grin curls wider. “Hey, ah… you wanna help? This is the last one. I usually stop at Halloween unless we got a prank war going, but haven’t had one of those since… Well, a long, long time ago.”
Castiel actually looks intrigued and it’s embarrassing to say how heartened Dean is at that. Castiel hasn’t looked intrigued about anything since before Lucifer and Michael were put down. It’s a relief and Dean thinks maybe this might just be the push he needs to get his friend back. They can only have one head-case around at a time after all; they’re already at the imploding point. Sam’s probably going to be the biggest challenge because Dean’s working on his own issues (which is pretty well a miracle in and of itself) and maybe by helping Cas he’ll help himself.
Old routines, old habits, the good old days working toward a common world-saving goal and not just picking up mess after mess after mess. That’s what Dean needs right now and if he can get Cas in on this last prank then well, that’s just perfect. What was more routine back in the day than Dean helping Cas be a little more human?
“I…” Castiel falters, stares hard at the cheap plastic bag in Dean’s hand and takes a few hesitant steps forward. “Will it hurt, Sam?”
“Nah,” Dean waves the thought off. “He’ll catch himself before he falls. Kid may be a giant but he’s got grace when it counts.”
“What do you plan to do?”
Dean celebrates internally. “Come on, I’ll show you. Probably going to need a second pair of hands anyway.”
Castiel approaches, book abandoned and forgotten on the beat-up, lime-green Formica and metal table.
xx
After a good solid, half an hour of steady effort, Dean and Castiel step back to survey their handy-work.
There’s a piece of tissue paper hiding in the glare of the overhead light, Dean tried to find the colour closest to the tobacco yellow of the ceiling. With careful hands and delicate gestures, they’ve attached a low gauge fishing wire to the edges of the paper and strung it carefully along the ceiling and doorframe down to a few inches from the bottom of the door. Hidden away in in the hammock of the tissue paper is Halloween themed confetti, all glittery black bats, orange pumpkins and white ghosts.
That’s not the end of it, Dean decided to tie in a second favourite of his pranks to trigger the mechanism. After all, if Sam had seen the door closed with Dean and Castiel still present and accounted for in the room he would have been suspicious on principle.
For the trigger, Dean pulled clear packing tape taunt between the doorframes, tucking the string under the tape. When Sam stumbles over the poor man’s tripwire he’ll have a shower of confetti fall, with any luck, right no his head. It’ll be beautiful. Dean can’t wait.
“You are certain he will only stumble and not trip?” Castiel asks again, surveying the small bathroom with concern and thinking of Sam’s large, at times ungainly, frame.
Dean huffs, exasperated at answering the same question for the third time, “I’m sure, Cas.”
“This may prove to be rather amusing providing it operates correctly. I’m beginning to see the lure of pranks,” again the word is bit out unnaturally. This time it makes Dean smile.
“Cool. It’ll be awesome, just you wait. Now we gotta act natural for when Sam comes back, we can’t give it away. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble acting uninterested and aloof though.” Dean misses the slight flash of hurt across the former angel’s eyes.
The hunter continues, undaunted, “Just be sure to be careful if you need to take a leak before Sam gets back and shut the door carefully. May take too long to set it up again if we accidently trip it.”
Castiel doesn’t respond; he’s already locked away in his book. Dean worries his lower lip, he doesn’t ask though, he just flicks on the TV and waits for Sam.
xx
When Sam does eventually arrive back at the motel room - nearly two hours later - Dean just barely conceals the gleeful grin he flashes at Cas and he’s gratified to get a hint of a smile in return.
Sam nods a silent greeting to them both and sets down his laptop bag. He tosses Castiel a book and Castiel’s eyes light up as he flips it open. Dean rolls his eyes.
“You know, Dude, there’s more to life than reading,” Dean can’t resist commenting.
“I enjoy reading, Dean. It keeps me occupied. I rather have someone else’s words in my mind than have to battle with my own thoughts,” Castiel replies coolly.
Dean winces. He supposes he’s been a bit insensitive lately. Castiel is dealing with a lot of shit, more than Dean is really. On top of the horrors of That Place, combined with the guilt the Winchesters tend to soak in, Castiel also has to deal with becoming human and the guilt of betraying Dean along with nearly destroying the world.
“Sorry, Man,” Dean says quietly.
Castiel looks up and he looks a little surprised, his mouth opens soundlessly for a second before he says, “Thank you, Dean.”
“You two are adorable,” Sam drawls. Dean blushes and scowls, while Castiel returns his attention to his book. That is, until Sam heads to the bathroom.
Dean subtly shifts and Castiel’s eyes flick up from the words before him. They both wait, breaths held. They hear it before they see it. Sam squawks loudly and they hear him stumble onto the bathroom tile. Thankfully, no crash follows and Dean’s assumption of Sam’s ability to catch himself was right. Then they hear a sound of unchecked surprise followed quickly but sputtering. Dean begins to laugh lowly, already picturing the sight Sam will be to behold and Castiel’s mouth is twitching, almost smiling but not quite. Then, much to the surprise of both the human and fallen angel they hear Sam’s deep rumbling chuckles spill out of the bathroom. He enters the main area of the motel room a moment later and just shakes his head slowly at Dean.
Dean allows himself to laugh outright now, because Sam decorated in tiny metallic ghosts, bats and pumpkins is too hilarious to not laugh. He is surprised when he hears an unfamiliar snicker and turns to Castiel who’s mouth his twitching almost convulsively now as he tries to keep it in check.
“Let it out, Dude,” Dean tells the blue-eyed man through his laughter. “Just do it. Think of it as therapy.”
Then Castiel does. Dean’s never heard Castiel laugh properly before. It’s higher than he expects coming out of a being who usually speak in such low tones, but it’s warm and soft and makes the lines crinkle around Castiel’s eyes, his white teeth flashing. Their mutual laughter is made all that much more contagious and soon the three of them are breathless, with aching diaphragms and wet eyes.
When at last they laughter begins to slow they exchange grins and settle back.
“Very clever, Dean,” Sam eventually says. “I’ll give you points for that one. Just this once, though.”
Dean feels pretty good, better than he has in a long time and he’d bet Baby that Sammy and Cas feel pretty good too.
The End
Prompt #5 to come later!