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[wanttobeatree]

ENNH. I have to stop being a miserable fuck for long enough to write my creative piece for Thursday. So, get the writing cogwheels spinning:

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level.

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[wanttobeatree]

Misha leaned back in his seat, surveying the bar as he took a sip of his delicious tofu beer. (He made it himself, with a bottle of bud and some finely chopped tofu cubes. It had take him a while to stick them all through the bottle mouth, but the results are worth it.) It was a quiet night, what with Jared and Jensen away on their honeymoon and all, and he figured he’d just have a couple tofu beers and then go home.

The front door opened and a few of the regulars by the bar let out a cheer and started calling out greetings of, “Hey, it’s Cas! Hey, everybody, Cas is here!”

Misha picked a clogged-up lump of tofu out of the bottle mouth - one of the potential hazards of the tofu beer, it’s true - and glanced up at the newcomer. He was dressed in the kind of beige trenchcoat that still had the power to send a chill down Misha’s spine.

Less common, however, was the sudden, shocking thrill of arousal.

The tofu beer slipped from Misha’s fingers, shattering on the floor in a beer-y, tofu-y mess, but it barely registered. Had his worst fear finally been confirmed? Misha wondered, numbly. Had he unwittingly developed a trenchcoat fetish?

“Your beverage has broken,” said the newcomer, jolting Misha out of his distraught thoughts.

“Holy shit,” he said, as the newcomer tilted his head curiously at the tofu coating on the floor. “You’re me.”

“Not exactly,” said Castiel, scuffing the tofu with the tip of his shoe and pulling a face as it stuck, goopily, to the sole. “But I’ve been waiting for you, Misha. We haven’t much time.”

“Time? For - for what? I have to go home soon,” Misha said, running a hand shakily through his hair. “They’re doing crawfish on Good Eats today and I forgot to set the TiVo.”

“There is no time for crawfish,” Castiel said, sadly. “Lilith is coming and only you have the power to stop her.”

Misha blinked.

Castiel blinked back.

“What,” said Misha.

In lieu of more traditional responses, Castiel simply touched a finger to Misha’s head and then - unexpectedly - they were back in his apartment. The TV was on, Misha realised, numbly, and the food network was already playing.

Then Castiel reached out a hand and placed it - even more unexpectedly - over Misha’s dick.

“The key to Lilith’s downfall lies within you,” Castiel explained. “I have come to fetch it.”

“Um,” said Misha.

Afterwards, they never spoke of that night again.

THE END FUCK YOU.

[qwertypoiuq]

I think there's a verse in there somewhere, trufax. *nods sagely*

Also, HAHAHA, YOU ARE MY PUPPET! *is mad with power*

Also, that was strangely glorious.