SPN ficlets: Channel Surfing (Dean/Cas AU TV fusions PG-13)
Title: Channel Surfing {also at AO3 here, and here}
Rating: up to PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Bobby, Adam, lots
Genre: AU, fusion, crack, fluff
Word Count: around 1,900 all up
Summary: Welcome to a day of Australian TV programming. Where the only way to survive is to Destiel-ify everything in your poor, cracked, fangirly mind, until your brain farts out ficlets. (Some might only be funny if you know the shows though!)
A/N: This has nothing to do with the episode Changing Channels. I've just been forced to watch a lot of questionable TV lately and this was the only way to get through it. It seems even in the darkest of hours my brain is eternally cracked. Also, I just felt like getting back into writing fic again.
Disclaimer: Supernatural, It's A Knockout, Two and a Half Men, Nestle Soleil Yoghurt, Charmed, Alias, The Bold and The Beautiful, and Terra Nova sure as hell ain't mine.
~
Knockout
Dean liked pancakes. Hell, he loved pancakes. For that reason alone hed volunteered for this round.
Its just he was pretty sure kangaroos didnt love pancakes?
Nonetheless, here he was, dressed in a giant kangaroo suit, fighting for balance on a giant turning platform, dodging stuffed cane toads aimed at his head, as well as his opponent from the Paramedics team, and trying to catch flying pancakes in his kangaroo suits pouch as his teammates from the Firefighters side cheered him on.
But motivated as he was, by one of his favorite foods of all time, the player from the Medics team wasnt giving an inch. Everytime Dean caught a pancake, the Meddie caught the next, dodging and swerving cane toads with moves that were putting the Firies to shame.
They were head to head in points by the time the 10 second countdown began, and the screaming in the auditorium reached a fevered pitch as the last pancake launched their way. Dean jumped into the air with his pouch held out in perfect position to catch it, but the Meddie jumped just milliseconds after Dean, and the timing knocked him into Deans side, throwing Dean off-course. And as Dean went down, air whooshing out of his lungs, he saw the Meddie twist mid-air, the pancake landing squarely in the other players pouch.
Dean cursed under his breath as the buzzer sounded, winded, wincing, and his pride wounded as he tried to manoeuvre himself back up in the bulky suit.
And then in a show of good sportsmanship, his opponent walked over, holding out his hand to help Dean up.
Dean had no choice to accept the help, it was a family show after all, but when he was finally standing, unmasked, and face to face with his opponent, he found himself a little winded again.
He didnt really remember walking off the platform back to his teammates, but all of a sudden his brother Sam was standing next to him with a small smirk on his face.
That was some knockout, Dean.
A pair of blue eyes found his again from the Meddies side of the auditorium and Dean grinned.
Sure was, Sam.
Two Idjits
Sam turned to his brother as Deans cantankerous housekeeper Bobby disappeared back into the kitchen.
Hey Dean, I just want to thank you again for letting move in here with you. I swear its only temporary, just until I get back on my feet.
No problem, Sammy. Dean shrugged as he turned towards the grand piano.
But then, as Sam looked back out over the deck to take in the view of the water
Dean ? Who is that guy climbing over your fence?
Oh him? Thats my crazy neighbour Cas.
Huh.
Feeling it (inspired by this yoghurt ad)
Dean Smith was definitely not feeling it.
Oh he was feeling something, though.
The burn.
And the beginnings of a stitch. Definitely a stitch.
He lurched to a stop on the sidewalk, his hands going to his sweatpant-covered knees to support himself as he bent over and tried to catch his breath.
He hated running. But hed tried the salads and the shakes, the detox diets, and even colonics in the end it was just too much to ask for him to give up burgers and beer. And pie. Goddamn how Dean loved him some pie.
And so the inevitable. Too much time at work, too much pie in the hole, added up to a good 15 pounds at the waistline, with no signs of stopping. So as much as all he wanted to do when he got home was pop a beer, plop on the couch, and pass out, he now found himself dragging his limbs into a pair of sweatpants instead, forcing himself from the safe confines of his shiny, happy, apartment, and out into the deep dark misery that was night-jogging.
As the pain in his side began to recede Dean raised his head to take in his surroundings. He found himself in a kind of market area that he didnt even know existed in his neighbourhood, lined with cafés and restaurants amid the odd bookshop or newsagency. It was nice, well-lit and welcoming, and Dean found he wasnt the only jogger that favored this route as a few similarly attired men and women whooshed past him.
Sonuvabitch.
How dare they make this look so effortless.
But it was this, or suffer the gym with all the other mindless beefcakes.
Mmmm cake.
Goddamit, a whole window of cake, and pie, and all kinds of freakin pastries in the café right in front of him.
Come on.
Dean winced as he straightened up, intent on escaping this evil boardwalk of temptation, but as he did so he saw the barista standing behind the cake counter, a small smirk on his ridiculously full lips, and his insanely blue eyes twinkling with humor as if he could read Deans every tortured thought.
Holy crap the guy was hot.
And Dean was disgusting. Sweaty and uncomfortable and fat and in no position to be propositioning a veritable pastry-god.
Dean had to get out of there quick.
Maybe, he told himself, if he could get rid of those 15 pounds, he might come back and reward himself.
But in the meantime, it didnt mean Dean couldnt look. And so he did, every day. Tried not to be obvious in slowing down when he passed the café, ostensibly eyeing the window full of pastries but really hoping to catch a glimpse of the even more delectable barista. And somehow, every time, the blue-eyed man seemed to sense that Dean was there, catching Deans gaze and sending him a smile in return.
It helped Dean get through the second half of his runs.
In fact, hed begun to enjoy running so much, that weeks later, he was almost surprised to find that not only had he reached his goal weight, hed even lost more than hed intended to.
So he thought he more than deserved it when the next day, instead of going straight home from work, he stopped by the market and walked into his favorite café for the first time. And in mere moments he was face to face with the star of his sugar-coated fantasies.
Hi, the barista Castiel from his nametag - smiled, What can I get you?
Deans eyes widened at the sound of the other mans voice, deep and rough and laced with images of all the things Dean had imagined doing with the man. Castiel was sex on legs, and Dean suddenly felt not as confident as he thought he was.
Um can I get a slice of apple pie please? To go, he added hastily, suddenly feeling weak in the knees and wanting nothing other than to flee the other mans intense blue eyes. Guess he still had a few confidence issues to work on after all.
Dean barely held it together as Castiel left to prepare his order. And when Castiel handed Dean his pie, brushing his fingers against Deans when he handed it to him, Dean practically bolted out of the place.
It wasnt until he was back at his car that Dean noticed the writing on the side of his pie-box:
Dinner Saturday? followed by a phone number, which with a shock Dean realised had to be Castiels.
Huh. Dean smiled.
The 90s not so Charmed
The Winchester brothers looked up from the Journal of Shadows as a shimmering in the air indicated the return of their White-Lighter. But when Castiel finally appeared he was not alone.
Cas? Dean frowned, Who's this?
This is Adam, your half-brother. With him the Power of Three is complete.
Huh.
Thank God for the 00s
Dean walked briskly through the abandoned warehouse to meet his CIA handler. He was late for his briefing at SN-6, again, and if this kept up Azazel was going to get suspicious. Again. He had only just passed the barrage of psych tests Azazel had ordered him to take after 'supposedly' failing the op to retrieve the Manuscript, and even though he knew he couldnt just hand the Manuscript over to the wrong hands, he did not like compromising his position as a double agent. His work was too important, his intel too critical to the CIAs efforts in bringing down Azazels entire operation.
But as his handler came into view Dean began to calm down. It wasnt Cas fault after all. In fact, if it wasnt for Cas patient training, Dean might not have passed Alastair's psych tests at all, and he wouldnt have gained Azazels trust again.
And if he admitted it to himself, Dean had begun to enjoy these clandestine meetings with the CIA agent.
Hello Dean.
Hey Cas, I got here as soon as I could-- What's wrong? Dean asked, sensing something off in his handlers demeanour.
The Agencys Department of Special Research finally managed to decode page 47 of the Manuscript.
And? Dean asked.
The Prophecy Cas frowned, handing Dean a large piece of paper with a drawing on it. Its you.
Huh.
Decades of Bold Brainlessness
Dean whirled away, his jaw clenching against the angry tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his view of the latest sketches covering the walls of Winchester Designs. He felt Castiel approach him from behind, the other mans hand press hot and heavy against his shoulder, and then, finally, a single, defeated tear rolled down Deans cheek.
Im sorry Dean, came Castiels wrecked voice from over his shoulder, apologetic and pleading and oh so desperate. I was wrong. So very wrong. Castiels fingers tightened around him. I thought your father was the one, but its you Dean. Its always been you.
~
Unbeknownst to them, the entire drama had been overheard by an eavesdropper at the door
Huh
An Uncertain Future
He knew it was a privilege, a chance at a new and better life but that didnt mean he wasnt scared shitless.
Sure hed always been a fan of science fiction, but the reality of it was, he wasnt sure if he was ready to boldly go and pioneer mans newest or oldest whatever frontier.
But Sam had been offered the opportunity.
And he wouldnt go unless he could bring Dean.
So that was that.
Sam was the brains in the family. Thats how his brother got the gig. And Sam had never really gotten over the loss of his child and his wife Jessica from complications in childbirth. So Dean understood why Sam wanted to go. Start over. And truth be told, Dean didnt have much in his life other than Sam either, so of course he was going. He may only be a mechanic, but they still needed mechanics over there too. Or so Sam had said.
But still, as he stepped through the glowing portal, yeah, he was scared shitless.
And after a few small steps into this brave new old whatever world, he promptly tripped over a tree root, fell onto his head, and blacked out.
~
When Dean came to, he barely had a chance to take in his surroundings before someone rushed to his side and began shining a flashlight into his eyes. He winced into the light, groaning as the dull throb in his temple made itself known.
And then the flashlight went off, and he was looking into the bluest pair of eyes hed ever seen.
Who are you? Dean mumbled.
Castiel, the man replied.
And somehow those few rumbled syllables seemed to calm Dean down immensely.
Then the man gave him a small, but genuine smile, placing a hand on his shoulder that probably warmed him a lot more than it was intended to.
Welcome to Terra Nova.
Dean grinned. Hed found his new home.
~
diggler: Wait! One last one... *Casa Erotica music plays*
Cas: Pizza Delivery!
Dean: Huh.