Fic: :D?
Title: :D?
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: gen-ish Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~2100
Summary: Sam stared. "Did you just emoticon at me?" Crack fic for last_panda, who requested Dean/Castiel with no prompt but was foolish enough to use an emoticon in her request comment ;)
The newspaper story had made it sound like such an easy gig - sudden epidemic of pranking at a quiet high school, but Dean didn't know what kind of schoolkid pranks turned skin irreversibly green, or made frogs slither out of some kid's mouth every time they spoke. And Dean, as he said, smugly, was the goddamn prank master, and if he'd ever been able to dye Sam's skin green and make him spit frogs when they were kids then by God, he'd have done it.
"Anyway, this shit escalates," Dean said, as they drove into the sleepy little town. "It's like those kids that start pulling the legs off of bugs and wind up Jeffrey Dahmer."
Personally, Sam figured he just wanted the easy ride. Not that he could blame him for that.
Except, Sam thought, later, while they were chasing down sidestreets after the petite blonde seventeen-year-old track athlete who turned out to be their culprit witch, he could totally blame Dean, because by now he ought to have known that any job that looked a piece of cake at first glance inevitably turned into a shitstorm of epic proportions. He ducked instinctively as the witch turned and threw a hex-bag at him, shouting something that sounded pretty much like, "Eat this, freaks," and when he straightened up again she was gone. He drew up, panting, and Dean skidded to a halt beside him.
"Ffs," said Dean, brushing purple powder off his jacket. "Wtf."
"What?" Sam turned to stare at Dean. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Dean froze and looked up at Sam. "Wtf?"
"Holy shit," said Sam. "Dude, why are you talking in textspeak?"
"Omg," said Dean. "D:"
Sam stared. "Did you just emoticon at me?"
":/?" said Dean.
"You emoticonned at me," said Sam. "You know, our lives are so fucking weird sometimes, I can't even."
-
"Surprisingly," Sam said, safely back at the motel room despite the fact that Dean had threatened to throw him out of the Impala three times for laughing so hard, "there are no clues on curses that make the victims talk in textspeak. Although to be fair," he added, "I'm not sure that the authors of these medieval grimoires imagined in their wildest dreams that there'd ever be a need for one."
"Fml." Dean stopped pacing and sank down onto one of the beds, head in hands. "Fml, fml, fml.
"Okay," Sam said, glancing up from the laptop. "You have to stop talking, dude. I'm not kidding. If I laugh at you any more I'm going to like, crack a rib or something."
"I h8 u," said Dean, looking up with a glare that could have stripped paint. "Sfm."
Sam bit his lip. "Dean, seriously, stop it. I'm researching cursebreaks. And googling a textspeak dictionary. I'm just not down enough with the kids to keep up with you."
"Stfu," said Dean. He pulled his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and bent over it, thumbs busily working.
"Who are you texting? Castiel?" Dean nodded. Sam couldn't resist. "So are you texting in full sentences, or what?"
Dean paused, briefly, to flip him the bird.
-
Castiel appeared with the faint sound of wingbeats a while later, looking anxious and a little harassed. There was snow in his hair.
“I came as quickly as I could," he said, glancing between Dean and Sam. "My search took me to the summit of Mount Everest, and the reception was patchy at best. What has happened?"
"Idek," said Dean, miserably.
"He's been cursed," Sam explained. "A witch gave him the conversational skills of a thirteen year old girl - ow," he snapped, as Dean tossed his cellphone at his head with serious intent. "God, Dean!"
">:(" said Dean.
"What does that one even mean?" Sam snapped, rubbing at his shoulder where the cellphone had hit. "I think you're just making these up to fuck with me."
"I do not understand," said Castiel. He kept looking back and forth between Sam and Dean, as though if he kept looking long enough the situation would begin make sense. Sam wished him luck with that one. "Sam, if Dean has been cursed, this is extremely serious."
"V SRS BSNS," Dean yelled.
"Okay, okay," Sam said, holding up his hands peaceably. "Take it easy, man. Don't wear out the capslock."
"Sam," said Castiel, with some force.
"Okay," said Sam, leaning back in his chair, "a witch threw a hex bag at Dean and now he talks in some weird mixture of textspeak and internet talk, and sometimes he emoticons. That about cover it?"
Dean nodded. "Trufax," he said, then, "D:" He hit himself twice on the forehead with the flat of his palm, as though it might knock the curse out of his brain.
"I still don't understand," said Castiel, his head tipped curiously, frowning a little. "What is textspeak?"
Sam looked up at him and said, "You're totally one of those guys who writes out all their texts in full sentences, aren't you?"
"Y," said Dean, from behind his hands.
"Perhaps you should start at the beginning," Castiel sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Dean as though he was settling in for the long haul.
-
"It is a fascinating development of language," said Castiel, head tilted, when Sam had finished his explanation. He glanced over at Dean with scientific curiosity, and Dean made a :| face of disapproval.
"It's also really fucking funny," said Sam. "But the point is, we need to break the curse. That's why we need your help."
Castiel turned back to Sam. "I'm afraid that without knowing what went into the hex, a curse is extremely difficult to break. My powers are - not what they were."
"Omg," said Dean, flopping backwards onto the bed. "Fml," he told the ceiling.
Castiel continued, "Had you considered that you might simply ask for this girl's co-operation?"
Dean bolted upright. "0_o?"
"She's a witch," said Sam, in a rough approximation of Dean's point.
"But she is a very young witch, and her magic - though undoubtedly inventive - lacks the maturity that would suggest an adept or experienced user," said Castiel.
Dean met Sam's eyes, rolling his own.
"I saw that," said Castiel.
":P" Dean said, and Sam realised that he was sitting in a room watching his brother emoticon tongue-poking at an angel of the Lord.
"I have important work elsewhere," said Castiel, with just the barest edge of danger. "If you did not wish for my help -"
"What Dean meant to say," said Sam, before shit could get smitey, "was that we're grateful for your help, of course." Dean nodded at Sam and made a rolling motion with his hands that probably meant something like, say the thing about bugs' legs and Jeffrey Dahmer, but Sam would bet a lot of money that Castiel had never heard of Jeffrey Dahmer or the psychology of psycopathy and Sam's day was already weird enough without that little 101 lecture, so he rolled over for the universe and said, "You know what, Cas? You're probably right. Why don't we just give that a try."
">:/" said Dean, switching his glare from Sam to Castiel and back again. "Gtfo!"
"Of course," said Castiel, looking up at Dean levelly, "I understand if you wish to remain in your current state indefinitely. I won't deny that the brevity of your current speech represents an improvement. I'm sure Sam would agree."
"0_0?" said Dean. "J/k?"
"I think the word you're looking for," said Sam, "is 'pwned'."
-
"Hello," said Castiel, as Jenny Saunders, the high-school witch, opened the front door of her house slightly. "I am -"
"Sorry, no Jehovah's Witnesses," she said quickly, and made to slam the door in his face. Castiel flung out a hand to stop her, catching the door and holding it there.
"I'm afraid I have never looked on the face of the Lord," said Castiel, earnestly. "But that is not why we are here."
"What - wait, you," said Jenny, eyes narrowing as she recognised Sam and Dean. "I'm gonna call the cops."
"I wouldn't," said Sam, stepping forward. "Not unless you want them to find out it was you who caused all those incidents at the school."
"Bite me," said Jenny, and tried to force the door shut, but Castiel was an immovable object. "I'll scream," she warned, glaring between the three of them.
"We're not going to hurt you," said Sam, carefully. "We're not going to do anything, so long as you lift the curse you put on my brother."
"You were chasing me," said Jenny, jabbing a finger at Sam. "I thought you were a couple of perverts or something."
"I can assure you that we have no untoward sexual interest in you," said Castiel. "We only wish to talk to you about your misuse of magic, and to ask your help in removing the curse you've put on Dean."
"They're just joke curses," Jenny said. She shrugged, and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I sell them to the kids at school. They're just little harmless spells with some coloured powder for effect. They wear off after a couple of days."
"Magic is not a toy," said Castiel, seriously. "You cannot possibly foresee all the consequences of your actions."
"Oh, whatever," said Jenny. She rolled her eyes. "Corey was totally lying when he said I shrunk his dick permanently. Please. He was always a total wiener." She raised her little finger and crooked it, suggestively.
("See, could've been worse," Sam said, nudging Dean surreptitiously.
"Stfu," said Dean, with a barely-repressed shudder. )
"You must undo what you have done," said Castiel, voice rough and commanding.
"Oh yeah?" Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. "And just who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"
Castiel drew himself up and said, with quiet menace, "I am an angel of the Lord."
Jenny rolled her eyes. "Sure, Clarence. Whatever you say."
"My name is not Clarence," said Castiel, frowning. "It is Castiel."
"They don't watch a lot of Christmas movies in heaven," Sam explained.
"Lol," said Dean.
Jenny cast a glance skywards. "My life," she told the clear blue, "is so fucking weird sometimes."
"Iawtc," said Dean. "Plz? :(?"
"Oh for God's sake," said Jenny, sighing in exasperation. She snapped the fingers of her left hand lazily, accompanying the gesture with another massive eyeroll. "Fine. There. You're all cured. Ta-da! Can you guys just go now?"
Castiel turned to Dean. "Are you indeed cured?"
"I dunno," said Dean, and then, brightening, "Wait, yeah! \o/!"
"That'll wear off in a few hours," Jenny said, quickly. "And remember, if your dick shrinks, that totally wasn't me, okay?"
-
"That really was one of the weirder interludes in my life," said Sam, as they headed back out to the Impala, having confiscated Jenny's grimoire and extracted a reluctant promise that she would stop selling curses to her classmates on pain of having Castiel return and give her a sternly worded and extremely long lecture on the dangers of the misuse of magic.
"You?" said Dean. "Dude, I was the one talking like Paris fucking Hilton. I mean, wtf. I mean - fuck!"
"I should have recorded it," said Sam, shaking his head. "I should have recorded it and sent it to every single person we know."
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, as they reached the Impala, "you sure you don't wanna go hang out with Jenny back there? 'Cause you two seem like you could be bff's."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk."
"Bitch." Dean turned back to Castiel. "So, you're going back to the God-hunt?"
"I must return to my search," said Castiel, seriously.
"I hear he turned up on some chick's waffles in Texas," Dean said, and then, "Lol. Dammit!"
"Dean," said Castiel, soft. He swallowed, licked his lips, fixed Dean with that steady, ageless stare. "I am glad that the curse was broken. I found that I - missed your voice."
":D?" said Dean, then, "God damn it. I meant -"
Behind them, Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Should I, uh, leave you guys alone for a second?"
"No, that won't be necessary," said Castiel, quickly, glancing down and away. There was a splash of colour across his cheeks that might have been a blush, and in a moment he was gone.
"Dude," said Sam, after a beat, looking at the empty air where Castiel had been. "I think the angel's kind of in love with you."
"Ikr?" said Dean. "Although, you gotta admit, I am pretty irresistible."
"Right," said Sam. "'Cause you totally didn't blush like a schoolgirl when he was telling you how much he liked the sound of your voice."
"Stfu," said Dean, ducking down to unlock the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat with a sigh. "Let's gtfo out of this town. It's like I always say, man: humans are the worst. How long before this shit wears off again?"
"Hours," said Sam, gleefully, folding himself into the passenger seat. "Hours, and hours."
"D:" said Dean. "Goddammit!"
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: gen-ish Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~2100
Summary: Sam stared. "Did you just emoticon at me?" Crack fic for last_panda, who requested Dean/Castiel with no prompt but was foolish enough to use an emoticon in her request comment ;)
The newspaper story had made it sound like such an easy gig - sudden epidemic of pranking at a quiet high school, but Dean didn't know what kind of schoolkid pranks turned skin irreversibly green, or made frogs slither out of some kid's mouth every time they spoke. And Dean, as he said, smugly, was the goddamn prank master, and if he'd ever been able to dye Sam's skin green and make him spit frogs when they were kids then by God, he'd have done it.
"Anyway, this shit escalates," Dean said, as they drove into the sleepy little town. "It's like those kids that start pulling the legs off of bugs and wind up Jeffrey Dahmer."
Personally, Sam figured he just wanted the easy ride. Not that he could blame him for that.
Except, Sam thought, later, while they were chasing down sidestreets after the petite blonde seventeen-year-old track athlete who turned out to be their culprit witch, he could totally blame Dean, because by now he ought to have known that any job that looked a piece of cake at first glance inevitably turned into a shitstorm of epic proportions. He ducked instinctively as the witch turned and threw a hex-bag at him, shouting something that sounded pretty much like, "Eat this, freaks," and when he straightened up again she was gone. He drew up, panting, and Dean skidded to a halt beside him.
"Ffs," said Dean, brushing purple powder off his jacket. "Wtf."
"What?" Sam turned to stare at Dean. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Dean froze and looked up at Sam. "Wtf?"
"Holy shit," said Sam. "Dude, why are you talking in textspeak?"
"Omg," said Dean. "D:"
Sam stared. "Did you just emoticon at me?"
":/?" said Dean.
"You emoticonned at me," said Sam. "You know, our lives are so fucking weird sometimes, I can't even."
-
"Surprisingly," Sam said, safely back at the motel room despite the fact that Dean had threatened to throw him out of the Impala three times for laughing so hard, "there are no clues on curses that make the victims talk in textspeak. Although to be fair," he added, "I'm not sure that the authors of these medieval grimoires imagined in their wildest dreams that there'd ever be a need for one."
"Fml." Dean stopped pacing and sank down onto one of the beds, head in hands. "Fml, fml, fml.
"Okay," Sam said, glancing up from the laptop. "You have to stop talking, dude. I'm not kidding. If I laugh at you any more I'm going to like, crack a rib or something."
"I h8 u," said Dean, looking up with a glare that could have stripped paint. "Sfm."
Sam bit his lip. "Dean, seriously, stop it. I'm researching cursebreaks. And googling a textspeak dictionary. I'm just not down enough with the kids to keep up with you."
"Stfu," said Dean. He pulled his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and bent over it, thumbs busily working.
"Who are you texting? Castiel?" Dean nodded. Sam couldn't resist. "So are you texting in full sentences, or what?"
Dean paused, briefly, to flip him the bird.
-
Castiel appeared with the faint sound of wingbeats a while later, looking anxious and a little harassed. There was snow in his hair.
“I came as quickly as I could," he said, glancing between Dean and Sam. "My search took me to the summit of Mount Everest, and the reception was patchy at best. What has happened?"
"Idek," said Dean, miserably.
"He's been cursed," Sam explained. "A witch gave him the conversational skills of a thirteen year old girl - ow," he snapped, as Dean tossed his cellphone at his head with serious intent. "God, Dean!"
">:(" said Dean.
"What does that one even mean?" Sam snapped, rubbing at his shoulder where the cellphone had hit. "I think you're just making these up to fuck with me."
"I do not understand," said Castiel. He kept looking back and forth between Sam and Dean, as though if he kept looking long enough the situation would begin make sense. Sam wished him luck with that one. "Sam, if Dean has been cursed, this is extremely serious."
"V SRS BSNS," Dean yelled.
"Okay, okay," Sam said, holding up his hands peaceably. "Take it easy, man. Don't wear out the capslock."
"Sam," said Castiel, with some force.
"Okay," said Sam, leaning back in his chair, "a witch threw a hex bag at Dean and now he talks in some weird mixture of textspeak and internet talk, and sometimes he emoticons. That about cover it?"
Dean nodded. "Trufax," he said, then, "D:" He hit himself twice on the forehead with the flat of his palm, as though it might knock the curse out of his brain.
"I still don't understand," said Castiel, his head tipped curiously, frowning a little. "What is textspeak?"
Sam looked up at him and said, "You're totally one of those guys who writes out all their texts in full sentences, aren't you?"
"Y," said Dean, from behind his hands.
"Perhaps you should start at the beginning," Castiel sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Dean as though he was settling in for the long haul.
-
"It is a fascinating development of language," said Castiel, head tilted, when Sam had finished his explanation. He glanced over at Dean with scientific curiosity, and Dean made a :| face of disapproval.
"It's also really fucking funny," said Sam. "But the point is, we need to break the curse. That's why we need your help."
Castiel turned back to Sam. "I'm afraid that without knowing what went into the hex, a curse is extremely difficult to break. My powers are - not what they were."
"Omg," said Dean, flopping backwards onto the bed. "Fml," he told the ceiling.
Castiel continued, "Had you considered that you might simply ask for this girl's co-operation?"
Dean bolted upright. "0_o?"
"She's a witch," said Sam, in a rough approximation of Dean's point.
"But she is a very young witch, and her magic - though undoubtedly inventive - lacks the maturity that would suggest an adept or experienced user," said Castiel.
Dean met Sam's eyes, rolling his own.
"I saw that," said Castiel.
":P" Dean said, and Sam realised that he was sitting in a room watching his brother emoticon tongue-poking at an angel of the Lord.
"I have important work elsewhere," said Castiel, with just the barest edge of danger. "If you did not wish for my help -"
"What Dean meant to say," said Sam, before shit could get smitey, "was that we're grateful for your help, of course." Dean nodded at Sam and made a rolling motion with his hands that probably meant something like, say the thing about bugs' legs and Jeffrey Dahmer, but Sam would bet a lot of money that Castiel had never heard of Jeffrey Dahmer or the psychology of psycopathy and Sam's day was already weird enough without that little 101 lecture, so he rolled over for the universe and said, "You know what, Cas? You're probably right. Why don't we just give that a try."
">:/" said Dean, switching his glare from Sam to Castiel and back again. "Gtfo!"
"Of course," said Castiel, looking up at Dean levelly, "I understand if you wish to remain in your current state indefinitely. I won't deny that the brevity of your current speech represents an improvement. I'm sure Sam would agree."
"0_0?" said Dean. "J/k?"
"I think the word you're looking for," said Sam, "is 'pwned'."
-
"Hello," said Castiel, as Jenny Saunders, the high-school witch, opened the front door of her house slightly. "I am -"
"Sorry, no Jehovah's Witnesses," she said quickly, and made to slam the door in his face. Castiel flung out a hand to stop her, catching the door and holding it there.
"I'm afraid I have never looked on the face of the Lord," said Castiel, earnestly. "But that is not why we are here."
"What - wait, you," said Jenny, eyes narrowing as she recognised Sam and Dean. "I'm gonna call the cops."
"I wouldn't," said Sam, stepping forward. "Not unless you want them to find out it was you who caused all those incidents at the school."
"Bite me," said Jenny, and tried to force the door shut, but Castiel was an immovable object. "I'll scream," she warned, glaring between the three of them.
"We're not going to hurt you," said Sam, carefully. "We're not going to do anything, so long as you lift the curse you put on my brother."
"You were chasing me," said Jenny, jabbing a finger at Sam. "I thought you were a couple of perverts or something."
"I can assure you that we have no untoward sexual interest in you," said Castiel. "We only wish to talk to you about your misuse of magic, and to ask your help in removing the curse you've put on Dean."
"They're just joke curses," Jenny said. She shrugged, and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I sell them to the kids at school. They're just little harmless spells with some coloured powder for effect. They wear off after a couple of days."
"Magic is not a toy," said Castiel, seriously. "You cannot possibly foresee all the consequences of your actions."
"Oh, whatever," said Jenny. She rolled her eyes. "Corey was totally lying when he said I shrunk his dick permanently. Please. He was always a total wiener." She raised her little finger and crooked it, suggestively.
("See, could've been worse," Sam said, nudging Dean surreptitiously.
"Stfu," said Dean, with a barely-repressed shudder. )
"You must undo what you have done," said Castiel, voice rough and commanding.
"Oh yeah?" Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. "And just who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"
Castiel drew himself up and said, with quiet menace, "I am an angel of the Lord."
Jenny rolled her eyes. "Sure, Clarence. Whatever you say."
"My name is not Clarence," said Castiel, frowning. "It is Castiel."
"They don't watch a lot of Christmas movies in heaven," Sam explained.
"Lol," said Dean.
Jenny cast a glance skywards. "My life," she told the clear blue, "is so fucking weird sometimes."
"Iawtc," said Dean. "Plz? :(?"
"Oh for God's sake," said Jenny, sighing in exasperation. She snapped the fingers of her left hand lazily, accompanying the gesture with another massive eyeroll. "Fine. There. You're all cured. Ta-da! Can you guys just go now?"
Castiel turned to Dean. "Are you indeed cured?"
"I dunno," said Dean, and then, brightening, "Wait, yeah! \o/!"
"That'll wear off in a few hours," Jenny said, quickly. "And remember, if your dick shrinks, that totally wasn't me, okay?"
-
"That really was one of the weirder interludes in my life," said Sam, as they headed back out to the Impala, having confiscated Jenny's grimoire and extracted a reluctant promise that she would stop selling curses to her classmates on pain of having Castiel return and give her a sternly worded and extremely long lecture on the dangers of the misuse of magic.
"You?" said Dean. "Dude, I was the one talking like Paris fucking Hilton. I mean, wtf. I mean - fuck!"
"I should have recorded it," said Sam, shaking his head. "I should have recorded it and sent it to every single person we know."
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, as they reached the Impala, "you sure you don't wanna go hang out with Jenny back there? 'Cause you two seem like you could be bff's."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk."
"Bitch." Dean turned back to Castiel. "So, you're going back to the God-hunt?"
"I must return to my search," said Castiel, seriously.
"I hear he turned up on some chick's waffles in Texas," Dean said, and then, "Lol. Dammit!"
"Dean," said Castiel, soft. He swallowed, licked his lips, fixed Dean with that steady, ageless stare. "I am glad that the curse was broken. I found that I - missed your voice."
":D?" said Dean, then, "God damn it. I meant -"
Behind them, Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Should I, uh, leave you guys alone for a second?"
"No, that won't be necessary," said Castiel, quickly, glancing down and away. There was a splash of colour across his cheeks that might have been a blush, and in a moment he was gone.
"Dude," said Sam, after a beat, looking at the empty air where Castiel had been. "I think the angel's kind of in love with you."
"Ikr?" said Dean. "Although, you gotta admit, I am pretty irresistible."
"Right," said Sam. "'Cause you totally didn't blush like a schoolgirl when he was telling you how much he liked the sound of your voice."
"Stfu," said Dean, ducking down to unlock the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat with a sigh. "Let's gtfo out of this town. It's like I always say, man: humans are the worst. How long before this shit wears off again?"
"Hours," said Sam, gleefully, folding himself into the passenger seat. "Hours, and hours."
"D:" said Dean. "Goddammit!"