Okay, this is really short and stupid, so someone else should feel totally free to write a better one. (Maybe with fewer disco balls!)
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"Okay, this? This is sick and wrong. Sick and wrong," Dean says. He grips his stomach, hoping that will help keep down the urge to vomit. "Seriously, Sam?"
Sam just looks up at him and soulfully blinks his huge, long-lashed eyes in response. On his flank, Castiel slimes along with determination, twitching his antennae.
He leaves a faint, gleaming trail on Sam's pristine white side.
Dean shudders, closing his eyes. Man, forget the Apocalypse, he thinks. This is, hands down, the worst thing that has ever happened to him. And that's including his Dad dying, Sam dying, and those three girls in South Dakota with the bear trap and the disco ball. (Which still gives him nightmares, okay, even six years later.)
But he has a duty, here. He's a big brother and a--a friend. He has a duty, he reminds himself, choking down bile. He forces his eyes open.
"Sam," he tries again, gently. "He's a snail. You're a pony. Which, okay, that's fucked up in the first place, and Zachariah's getting his fucking ass kicked for this one," he growls, gathering momentum, "but how is that even supposed to w--Sam!"
Sam completely ignores Dean and inches his nose closer to Castiel, who has reached Sam's ribs. Dean watches in mute horror as Sam softly presses his nose to his own body, and allows Castiel to slowly, slowly climb up onto it. Really slowly--Dean wishes like hell he could look away, but it's like watching a train wreck: hypnotizing. He can pretty much feel his brain melting in his skull. All words for protest have totally evaporated. It's hard enough to remember to even breathe.
It takes Cas a long, soulscarring minute to make it up to the area between Sam's eyes, where he comes to a rest, waving his antennae triumphantly. He looks like the most demented, fucked up unicorn horn in the entire universe. His slime glitters in the moonlight like a million diamonds.
Sam whickers softly, and smiles as much as a pony ever can. Then he prances a little, tossing his head in glee.
Dean gives up. Clapping a hand to his mouth, he staggers off to throw up in the bushes, and then hopefully back to the Impala to find a bar and drink so much he forgets he even has a brother. Maybe even a name, while he's at it.
Sam and Castiel, meanwhile, stay in the clearing, engaging in the most beautiful interspecies romance of all time.
THAT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE EVER SEEN.
...
You know what, I'm printing that off, pinning it to my desk partition at work, and I'm not going to leave any context up. I will wait for people to ASK for the context.
And I will love every second of providing it for them.
-
"Okay, this? This is sick and wrong. Sick and wrong," Dean says. He grips his stomach, hoping that will help keep down the urge to vomit. "Seriously, Sam?"
Sam just looks up at him and soulfully blinks his huge, long-lashed eyes in response. On his flank, Castiel slimes along with determination, twitching his antennae.
He leaves a faint, gleaming trail on Sam's pristine white side.
Dean shudders, closing his eyes. Man, forget the Apocalypse, he thinks. This is, hands down, the worst thing that has ever happened to him. And that's including his Dad dying, Sam dying, and those three girls in South Dakota with the bear trap and the disco ball. (Which still gives him nightmares, okay, even six years later.)
But he has a duty, here. He's a big brother and a--a friend. He has a duty, he reminds himself, choking down bile. He forces his eyes open.
"Sam," he tries again, gently. "He's a snail. You're a pony. Which, okay, that's fucked up in the first place, and Zachariah's getting his fucking ass kicked for this one," he growls, gathering momentum, "but how is that even supposed to w--Sam!"
Sam completely ignores Dean and inches his nose closer to Castiel, who has reached Sam's ribs. Dean watches in mute horror as Sam softly presses his nose to his own body, and allows Castiel to slowly, slowly climb up onto it. Really slowly--Dean wishes like hell he could look away, but it's like watching a train wreck: hypnotizing. He can pretty much feel his brain melting in his skull. All words for protest have totally evaporated. It's hard enough to remember to even breathe.
It takes Cas a long, soulscarring minute to make it up to the area between Sam's eyes, where he comes to a rest, waving his antennae triumphantly. He looks like the most demented, fucked up unicorn horn in the entire universe. His slime glitters in the moonlight like a million diamonds.
Sam whickers softly, and smiles as much as a pony ever can. Then he prances a little, tossing his head in glee.
Dean gives up. Clapping a hand to his mouth, he staggers off to throw up in the bushes, and then hopefully back to the Impala to find a bar and drink so much he forgets he even has a brother. Maybe even a name, while he's at it.
Sam and Castiel, meanwhile, stay in the clearing, engaging in the most beautiful interspecies romance of all time.
(Of all time.)
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OH MY GOD HAHAHAHHAHA. PONY SAM IS SO HAPPY ILIT.
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His slime glitters in the moonlight like a million diamonds.
MOST UNCONTROLLABLY ROMANTIC FIC EVER. EVER. I DARESAY POSSIBLY THE MOST ROMANTIC SNAIL/PONY FIC... OF ALL TIME?!
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I CAN'T EVEN
I may weep from the beauty of their GLORIOUS AND FORBIDDEN ROMANCE.
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I'M SORRY
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IT IS GLORIOUS
~*GLORIOUS*~
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THAT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE EVER SEEN.
...
You know what, I'm printing that off, pinning it to my desk partition at work, and I'm not going to leave any context up. I will wait for people to ASK for the context.
And I will love every second of providing it for them.
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Haha oh man, I wish I could be there to see you explain this to your coworkers XD XD XD
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It will be glorious. I will relish it. :D
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