Fic: I'm a free bitch, Chuck
To those who've been following Code of Chuck - I'm sorry. I neglected to look at the syllabi for my classes before I started posting the fic, and apparently there was a two-week chunk there labeled "EVERYTHING EXPLODES," so I haven't got the next chapter ready yet. In the interim, I offer you this scene that didn't quite fit into the series:
Title: I'm a free bitch, Chuck
Characters: Chuck, Castiel, talk of Cas/Dean
Ratings/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 1200
Summary: Chuck and Castiel have a serious discussion about song lyrics. This happens at some point midway through the Chuck 'verse (I really do need to come up with a proper name for this series).
Note: Changed the title after posting this.
For once, when Castiel snuck up behind Chuck, Chuck wasn’t writing porn.
He said “Augh!” anyway. It was sort of becoming a habit.
“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, positioning himself at Chuck’s left shoulder.
“Checking my email,” Chuck said, suddenly feeling like he should be checking his right shoulder for a devil. Man, he missed that cartoon trope - it was underutilized these days. Well, there was Emperor’s New Groove. He smiled to himself, wondering if Castiel could do a handstand.
“That’s not your email,” Castiel observed, dropping his head near Chuck’s to read the screen.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, Carver Edlund’s. Thought I should maybe check in on my work account, so long as I’ve got internet access.”
“Someone seems to think that Carver Edlund needs a larger penis to please women.”
“I hate the spam filters on this site,” Chuck grumbled, deleting some things. He clicked on another email, read the sender’s address too late, and leaned back in his chair with a groan. Castiel shot him a curious look, and he gestured at the screen. “This fan. Sam…Samlicker81. She keeps sending me Youtube videos for songs that remind her of Sam and Dean.”
“I like music,” Castiel said pleasantly, and squinted at the link on the screen. “‘Bad Romance’? That doesn’t sound applicable. The Sam and Dean in your published books aren’t romantically involved with anyone.”
“Yeah, try telling the fangirls that.”
“Fangirls,” Castiel repeated carefully, as if testing out the word. “Play the song.”
Chuck sighed and clicked the link. A Youtube video of Lady Gaga popped up, decked out in inordinately expensive clothing and sunglasses that Chuck was pretty sure he’d owned in the 80s. He rested his head on his hand, trying not to hear whatever Samlicker81 heard in these lyrics and just enjoy the flashy images. And the boobs. There was some decent sideboob in this video.
Castiel, on the other hand, listened with rapt attention. He didn’t seem to care about the imagery, but his lips moved slightly with the chorus when it came around the second time, and his eyes were focused on a distant point beyond the computer screen. Chuck hadn’t seen him concentrate this intently on anything since the last conversation they’d had about the literary merits of Joss Whedon shows. It was kind of scary, actually - seeing that old angel intensity aimed at something on the internet. When the song ended, Chuck moved to close the window but Castiel said, “Play it again.”
Chuck obeyed, and Gaga started over again. And ended again. Castiel ordered the song played a third time, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
Chuck could only take about a minute of the fourth repeat. He was starting to get thirsty - probably something to do with all the booze bottles in the video - and besides, this was…weird. “Okay, then,” he said, pushing back his chair, “I’m just going to leave you alone with Youtube until you’re-”
“This song is about Dean,” Castiel said, giving Chuck a deeply significant look.
“Um.” Chuck crossed his hands in his lap. “Okay.”
“The disease and ugly she mentions, the horror - that’s how Dean thinks of himself. He sees himself as something that spreads pain. I’ve tried to convince him that what’s in him is worth wanting, but he doesn’t listen.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk. “And you want his love, love, love, love?”
“Exactly!” Castiel said, excitement shining in his eyes. “I knew you would understand. The revenge element, too, fits Dean - he and I have had a tumultuous history, and even aside from that, he seems to think of himself as the sort of creature that might turn on someone. It all comes down to his poor self-image.”
“Everything comes down to poor self-image with Dean.” Chuck thought a moment. “Heaven can’t look kindly on guys cavorting with fallen angels, so I suppose technically he is a criminal as long as he’s yours.”
“But it isn’t a ‘bad’ romance,” Castiel said, leaning forward with his hands grasping at the air. “He only thinks of it in a negative light because he thinks any romance he engages in is doomed to fail from some fault of his. By the premise of these song lyrics, I’m humoring his view and reflecting it back at him so he can see how ludicrous it is.”
“Uh…huh.” The crazy part was, Chuck could sort of see it. He frowned. “And ‘Walk, walk, fashion baby/Work it, move that bitch crazy’?”
Castiel glanced down at the borrowed t-shirt he was wearing, which had the Batman symbol on it. “I have been exploring fashion.”
“And you’re a free bitch.”
“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice low and urgent. “Free from Heaven.”
Chuck rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, but he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a former shoulder angel.
“Music reaches Dean. Maybe-” Castiel touched his lips with an idle hand. “Maybe I should have Dean listen to this song. It could help me explain to him that he’s worth loving.”
“No!” Chuck cried, sitting bolt upright. “I mean-no. Making Dean listen to Lady Gaga is very, very not the way to get any sort of point across to him.”
“Why not?”
“Just trust me on this. Dean’s really…particular about what music he’ll pay attention to. If you make him listen to this, it’ll do more harm than good to your point.”
“Oh.” Castiel looked sort of crushed. Which made Chuck feel like a total ass, because here the guy’d been all excited and full of purpose - probably for the first time since his grace was torn from him, really - and Chuck had squashed that dead.
“Look,” he said, pausing Gaga mid-pelvic thrust, “this is just part of being human. You see yourself and the people you care about in everything - music, TV, cat macros… It’s kind of a curse of the station, y’know? I promise you, it’s not going to be just this one song you see Dean in. There will be other songs - ones that he might actually listen to, even.”
Castiel’s face lifted slightly, and his shoulders went back. “Do you have any suggestions?”
And there, Chuck had to smile. “Dude, I had a whole Dean playlist on my computer at home. I’m sure we can find something you’ll connect with.” He typed a song title into the search bar and clicked on the first result. “Let’s try some Skynyrd first.”
Castiel settled onto the desk beside the computer, curling his legs up with him. “I like the internet,” he decided. “Words and images and sound travel through it like the transportation of grace. It reminds me…” He smiled slightly, uncertainly. “It reminds me of home.”
“But with more porn, I bet,” Chuck said.
“I suppose,” Castiel answered, but as the first verse of “Simple Man” came in, his attention wandered out past the screen again, and Chuck could tell he was already connecting with the music.
THE END!
Title: I'm a free bitch, Chuck
Characters: Chuck, Castiel, talk of Cas/Dean
Ratings/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 1200
Summary: Chuck and Castiel have a serious discussion about song lyrics. This happens at some point midway through the Chuck 'verse (I really do need to come up with a proper name for this series).
Note: Changed the title after posting this.
For once, when Castiel snuck up behind Chuck, Chuck wasn’t writing porn.
He said “Augh!” anyway. It was sort of becoming a habit.
“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, positioning himself at Chuck’s left shoulder.
“Checking my email,” Chuck said, suddenly feeling like he should be checking his right shoulder for a devil. Man, he missed that cartoon trope - it was underutilized these days. Well, there was Emperor’s New Groove. He smiled to himself, wondering if Castiel could do a handstand.
“That’s not your email,” Castiel observed, dropping his head near Chuck’s to read the screen.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, Carver Edlund’s. Thought I should maybe check in on my work account, so long as I’ve got internet access.”
“Someone seems to think that Carver Edlund needs a larger penis to please women.”
“I hate the spam filters on this site,” Chuck grumbled, deleting some things. He clicked on another email, read the sender’s address too late, and leaned back in his chair with a groan. Castiel shot him a curious look, and he gestured at the screen. “This fan. Sam…Samlicker81. She keeps sending me Youtube videos for songs that remind her of Sam and Dean.”
“I like music,” Castiel said pleasantly, and squinted at the link on the screen. “‘Bad Romance’? That doesn’t sound applicable. The Sam and Dean in your published books aren’t romantically involved with anyone.”
“Yeah, try telling the fangirls that.”
“Fangirls,” Castiel repeated carefully, as if testing out the word. “Play the song.”
Chuck sighed and clicked the link. A Youtube video of Lady Gaga popped up, decked out in inordinately expensive clothing and sunglasses that Chuck was pretty sure he’d owned in the 80s. He rested his head on his hand, trying not to hear whatever Samlicker81 heard in these lyrics and just enjoy the flashy images. And the boobs. There was some decent sideboob in this video.
Castiel, on the other hand, listened with rapt attention. He didn’t seem to care about the imagery, but his lips moved slightly with the chorus when it came around the second time, and his eyes were focused on a distant point beyond the computer screen. Chuck hadn’t seen him concentrate this intently on anything since the last conversation they’d had about the literary merits of Joss Whedon shows. It was kind of scary, actually - seeing that old angel intensity aimed at something on the internet. When the song ended, Chuck moved to close the window but Castiel said, “Play it again.”
Chuck obeyed, and Gaga started over again. And ended again. Castiel ordered the song played a third time, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
Chuck could only take about a minute of the fourth repeat. He was starting to get thirsty - probably something to do with all the booze bottles in the video - and besides, this was…weird. “Okay, then,” he said, pushing back his chair, “I’m just going to leave you alone with Youtube until you’re-”
“This song is about Dean,” Castiel said, giving Chuck a deeply significant look.
“Um.” Chuck crossed his hands in his lap. “Okay.”
“The disease and ugly she mentions, the horror - that’s how Dean thinks of himself. He sees himself as something that spreads pain. I’ve tried to convince him that what’s in him is worth wanting, but he doesn’t listen.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk. “And you want his love, love, love, love?”
“Exactly!” Castiel said, excitement shining in his eyes. “I knew you would understand. The revenge element, too, fits Dean - he and I have had a tumultuous history, and even aside from that, he seems to think of himself as the sort of creature that might turn on someone. It all comes down to his poor self-image.”
“Everything comes down to poor self-image with Dean.” Chuck thought a moment. “Heaven can’t look kindly on guys cavorting with fallen angels, so I suppose technically he is a criminal as long as he’s yours.”
“But it isn’t a ‘bad’ romance,” Castiel said, leaning forward with his hands grasping at the air. “He only thinks of it in a negative light because he thinks any romance he engages in is doomed to fail from some fault of his. By the premise of these song lyrics, I’m humoring his view and reflecting it back at him so he can see how ludicrous it is.”
“Uh…huh.” The crazy part was, Chuck could sort of see it. He frowned. “And ‘Walk, walk, fashion baby/Work it, move that bitch crazy’?”
Castiel glanced down at the borrowed t-shirt he was wearing, which had the Batman symbol on it. “I have been exploring fashion.”
“And you’re a free bitch.”
“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice low and urgent. “Free from Heaven.”
Chuck rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, but he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a former shoulder angel.
“Music reaches Dean. Maybe-” Castiel touched his lips with an idle hand. “Maybe I should have Dean listen to this song. It could help me explain to him that he’s worth loving.”
“No!” Chuck cried, sitting bolt upright. “I mean-no. Making Dean listen to Lady Gaga is very, very not the way to get any sort of point across to him.”
“Why not?”
“Just trust me on this. Dean’s really…particular about what music he’ll pay attention to. If you make him listen to this, it’ll do more harm than good to your point.”
“Oh.” Castiel looked sort of crushed. Which made Chuck feel like a total ass, because here the guy’d been all excited and full of purpose - probably for the first time since his grace was torn from him, really - and Chuck had squashed that dead.
“Look,” he said, pausing Gaga mid-pelvic thrust, “this is just part of being human. You see yourself and the people you care about in everything - music, TV, cat macros… It’s kind of a curse of the station, y’know? I promise you, it’s not going to be just this one song you see Dean in. There will be other songs - ones that he might actually listen to, even.”
Castiel’s face lifted slightly, and his shoulders went back. “Do you have any suggestions?”
And there, Chuck had to smile. “Dude, I had a whole Dean playlist on my computer at home. I’m sure we can find something you’ll connect with.” He typed a song title into the search bar and clicked on the first result. “Let’s try some Skynyrd first.”
Castiel settled onto the desk beside the computer, curling his legs up with him. “I like the internet,” he decided. “Words and images and sound travel through it like the transportation of grace. It reminds me…” He smiled slightly, uncertainly. “It reminds me of home.”
“But with more porn, I bet,” Chuck said.
“I suppose,” Castiel answered, but as the first verse of “Simple Man” came in, his attention wandered out past the screen again, and Chuck could tell he was already connecting with the music.
THE END!