Twisted Manipulation (Ch. 3)
Title: Twisted Manipulation (Ch.3)
Author: mello_bello_91
Rating: PG-13...I'm not that great with ratings
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Takes place after the Season 4 finale
Warnings: not really sure if there is anything bad...except the short alcohol references...
Word Count: 595
Summary: There was nothing wrong with sitting on a couch, jacket flung over the back, feet up on a table, beer in had, after completing a rough job.
There was nothing wrong with sitting on a couch, jacket flung over the back, feet up on a table, beer in had, after completing a rough job. The only problem was that, after completing a job, Dean went straight to the kitchen to grab a few beers, shrugged out of his jacket, and sat on Bobby’s couch until the next job.
“Dean.” Sam was standing behind the couch, “He’s coming back.”
“Who?” Dean refused to look at Sam, knowing that his eyes would go against his ‘I don’t care’ attitude.
“Cas,” Sam replied, walking around the couch to stand directly in front of Dean.
Dean sighed and took a drink of his beer, “Castiel is an angel. He doesn’t belong here.” Dean hated using the angel’s real name that was why he had come up with the nickname.
“And you really believe that?”
“Drop it Sammy.”
“No. I’m sick of you acting though when you feel like shit.”
“I said, drop it.” Dean stood up to give himself more leverage because Dean could feel that there was a fight about to break out between the two of them.
Sam shook his head and shoved Dean back on the couch. “I’ll drop it once you admit you’re hurting.”
With a scowl, Dean pushed himself off the couch again. This time though, instead of bracing himself for a fight, Dean curled his hand into a fist and punched Sam in the jaw. Sam stumbled back a few steps, then turned on Dean and punched him in the gut, a slight grunt coming out of Dean.
“Would you idjits stop fighting,” Bobby was standing in the doorway, a newspaper in his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.”
“What’s up Bobby?” Dean asked, jumping over the couch and acting as though nothing had happened between Sam and himself.
Bobby threw the newspaper at Dean, “Would it have killed you to walk around the couch?”
“Yes.” Dean looked down at the newspaper. “What’s the job?”
Bobby shook his head, “If you’d read the newspaper, it would tell you. There have been a few fires.”
“Uh, Bobby, that doesn’t sound like our type of job.” Sam had walked over to where Dean was standing and was now reading over Dean’s shoulder.
“It does when the fires burned the barn where we first met Castiel down, the area around Dean’s grave, and you idjit’s home.”
“Still not our type of job Bobby,” Dean handed Sam the newspaper.
“Hey, it says a random park bench burned to the ground, but the ground around and under it wasn’t harmed at all.” Sam said, pointing to the newspaper.
“What do you think it means?” Dean asked looking at no one in particular.
“Someone, or something, is trying to get your attention.” Bobby answered staring at Dean.
“Cas.” Dean stared up at the ceiling, like he was trying to look up into Heaven to see Castiel.
“Why do you think that?” Sam questioned, handing the newspaper back to Bobby.
“I just know it is.” Dean’s heart sped up. Maybe Castiel wasn’t mad at him. Maybe Castiel was telling him that he needed Dean. All Dean knew was that he needed to speak to Castiel, and needed to talk to him now.
Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Let’s go.”
Sam and Bobby exchanged glance and followed Dean out of the house.
Dean knew exactly where he needed to go, and knew exactly what he needed to do to see Castiel. Dean was going to get his angel back, no matter what.
Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
Author: mello_bello_91
Rating: PG-13...I'm not that great with ratings
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Takes place after the Season 4 finale
Warnings: not really sure if there is anything bad...except the short alcohol references...
Word Count: 595
Summary: There was nothing wrong with sitting on a couch, jacket flung over the back, feet up on a table, beer in had, after completing a rough job.
There was nothing wrong with sitting on a couch, jacket flung over the back, feet up on a table, beer in had, after completing a rough job. The only problem was that, after completing a job, Dean went straight to the kitchen to grab a few beers, shrugged out of his jacket, and sat on Bobby’s couch until the next job.
“Dean.” Sam was standing behind the couch, “He’s coming back.”
“Who?” Dean refused to look at Sam, knowing that his eyes would go against his ‘I don’t care’ attitude.
“Cas,” Sam replied, walking around the couch to stand directly in front of Dean.
Dean sighed and took a drink of his beer, “Castiel is an angel. He doesn’t belong here.” Dean hated using the angel’s real name that was why he had come up with the nickname.
“And you really believe that?”
“Drop it Sammy.”
“No. I’m sick of you acting though when you feel like shit.”
“I said, drop it.” Dean stood up to give himself more leverage because Dean could feel that there was a fight about to break out between the two of them.
Sam shook his head and shoved Dean back on the couch. “I’ll drop it once you admit you’re hurting.”
With a scowl, Dean pushed himself off the couch again. This time though, instead of bracing himself for a fight, Dean curled his hand into a fist and punched Sam in the jaw. Sam stumbled back a few steps, then turned on Dean and punched him in the gut, a slight grunt coming out of Dean.
“Would you idjits stop fighting,” Bobby was standing in the doorway, a newspaper in his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.”
“What’s up Bobby?” Dean asked, jumping over the couch and acting as though nothing had happened between Sam and himself.
Bobby threw the newspaper at Dean, “Would it have killed you to walk around the couch?”
“Yes.” Dean looked down at the newspaper. “What’s the job?”
Bobby shook his head, “If you’d read the newspaper, it would tell you. There have been a few fires.”
“Uh, Bobby, that doesn’t sound like our type of job.” Sam had walked over to where Dean was standing and was now reading over Dean’s shoulder.
“It does when the fires burned the barn where we first met Castiel down, the area around Dean’s grave, and you idjit’s home.”
“Still not our type of job Bobby,” Dean handed Sam the newspaper.
“Hey, it says a random park bench burned to the ground, but the ground around and under it wasn’t harmed at all.” Sam said, pointing to the newspaper.
“What do you think it means?” Dean asked looking at no one in particular.
“Someone, or something, is trying to get your attention.” Bobby answered staring at Dean.
“Cas.” Dean stared up at the ceiling, like he was trying to look up into Heaven to see Castiel.
“Why do you think that?” Sam questioned, handing the newspaper back to Bobby.
“I just know it is.” Dean’s heart sped up. Maybe Castiel wasn’t mad at him. Maybe Castiel was telling him that he needed Dean. All Dean knew was that he needed to speak to Castiel, and needed to talk to him now.
Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Let’s go.”
Sam and Bobby exchanged glance and followed Dean out of the house.
Dean knew exactly where he needed to go, and knew exactly what he needed to do to see Castiel. Dean was going to get his angel back, no matter what.
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