Fic: The Room
Title: The Room
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Castiel, Dean/various people in a hot tub
Wordcount: 2,231
Warning: SPOILERS FOR SPN 5.08!
Notes: Written for woodstarling and her prompt: THE TRICKSTER PLAYS MATCHMAKER. In his own special way :D Which got waaaaay bigger and weirdly schmoopy-er than I intended and so I just decided to stick it here and be done with it.
Thanks: wanttobeatree & woodstarling for making the AWESOME Sam/Castiel Stay Sassy meme! Which you should all go play in! RIGHT NOW!!
Summary: Wherein Castiel and Sam find themselves in a room, and proceed to stumble around each other.
"You know, staring at children in a playground while wearing a trenchcoat isn't as innocent as you think it is, bro."'
Castiel narrows his eyes. "Gabriel."
He smiles, "My friends call me Gabe, actually."
"You have friends?" Castiel asks, crooking his head to one side.
"Well, no," Gabriel says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But they would."
"What do you want Gabriel?" Castiel says.
Gabriel kicks the ground a bit. "I'm bad at apologizing, you know that."
Castiel nods. "Yes, I know this."
"So, um, consider this an apology, kind of..." Gabriel says, holding out his hand to Castiel, sheepish expression on his face.
Castiel looks down at the hand warily. "Consider what?"
"Just," Gabriel nods his head, urging him, "take it, c'mon. Don't make me actually have to ask for forgiveness here."
Castiel lifts up his own hand, mouth tight and indecision reading on his face. He slowly, carefully, expecting a trap to snap any moment, touches his hand.
**
And then Castiel is in the same kind room he recognizes from the time Dean took him to a brothel. He swallows as the door swings open and he closes his eyes tight and hopes beyond hope that it's not another prostitute with a mean right hook like the last one.
Except it's Sam, though you wouldn't be able to tell y the way he's dressed. He's in a red and black lace slip, and what has to be the largest and chunkiest pair of red high heels in the known universe.
Sam's thrust into the room by some invisible force that slams the door shut and presumably locks it tight. Sam's able to stay standing for about one second before his knees wriggle and buckle and he trips over his heels, into Castiel and lands on the bed.
Castiel can't actually speak for a full minute because Sam's freaking out shouting about the Trickster or Gabriel or whatever his name is getting the jump on him and where's Dean and what's going on and how did they find heels in his size? But Sam doesn't really notice that he's doing so the entire time straddling Sam in what Castiel has realized is a very, very thin slip. And one of the straps is hanging off his shoulders and Castiel reaches out to fix it.
Sam shakes out of his cross-dressing-induced panic and flushes, crawling off Castiel's lap with his head bent. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, oh God I am so sorry," Sam repeats, trying to pull down the hem of his slip for some modesty.
Castiel tries to shake out of the mild stupor of warm and fuzzy feeling the situation has put him in; he recognizes it as somewhere between happiness and shame. "Gabriel, this is not how you apologize!" Castiel shouts through the room.
"Apologize?" Sam sputters. "What the hell does an apology have to do with me dressed up like this in a-oh." Sam's eyes get wide. "So this is what Dean meant."
"Meant what?" Castiel asks.
"Nothing," Sam says, biting down on his thumb, and momentarily forgetting to hold down the edge of his slip. "Something about wandering eyes, oh my God stop looking at me," Sam says, face flushed with either anger or embarrassment.
However, Castiel doesn't know the difference to begin with. "Are you hot?"
"Inappropriate-" Sam starts, but realizing he meant temperature-wise he softens his tone. "I mean, no, I'm-I'm a little cold, actually," Sam says, holding out a hand.
"I will find the thermostat," Castiel says, eyeing the room.
Sam rolls his eyes. "I meant give me your jacket."
Castiel looks down to his shoulders, "Oh, yes." He shrugs out of I and hands it to Sam, who immediately tries to get it to close over his chest, but he's just too wide and the sleeves are tight.
"Damn it," Sam mumbles, and finally gets it far enough around him that he can hold it closed by crossing his arms. "Okay, so what do we do now?"
Castiel blinks. "I could tell you about your daddy issues."
Sam gives a sarcastic smile. "I'd rather not."
"Well, I don't know what else to do in a prostitute's room."
"We're in a-" Sam rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh my GOD, that's just perfect," Sam says sitting down on the edge of the bed. "So let me guess the endgame on this one?"
Castiel sits next to him. "Please don't hit me."
"I'm not gonna-" Sam furrows his brow. "What exactly do you think is supposed to happen here, Cas?"
Castiel looks into his eyes.
**
"Ow," Castiel says, holding the ice pack to his jaw.
"Well, you shouldn't have said that thing about my Mom, Cas," Sam huffs.
"You said you wouldn't hit me."
"You don't talk about a guy's Mom like that, Cas! I can't be held responsible for my actions!" Sam sighs, putting his head in his hands. "And how'd you get an ice-pack?"
"I found it," Castiel says.
"Where the hell is Dean?" Sam groans, putting his hands on the back of his head, and then quickly re-crossing them over the borrowed coat to hide his outfit.
**
"And how exactly is this just desserts?" Dean says, glaring down Gabriel.
"It's not," Gabriel shrugs. "I told you, I'm not the best at apologizing," he says finishing off the Snickers bar. "Now do you want to get into the hot tub or not?"
Dean looks down at the bubbling Jacuzzi; Heidi Klum, Samantha Fox, Lt Uhura, Jessica Rabbit and Dr. Sexy, MD, wave back at him.
"Yes, yes I do."
**
Castiel takes a breath. "Gabriel is really lousy at apologies."
Sam ignores him and keeps trying to pick the lock on the door.
"When I was younger he ripped all the pages out of my favorite book and made folded paper flowers out of them. To apologize, he taught me how to make my own."
Sam looks over his shoulder. "You have books?"
Castiel nods. "What else would we read?"
Sam shrugs. "I don't-I guess I just never thought of angels as having anything, y'know, material?"
"We have books and we have instruments and we sleep in beds and buildings are made from stone and we grow gardens and have things that can be lit on fire and never burn away," Castiel pauses. "We don't get cable, though."
Sam snorts. "Is that a joke?"
"Dean taught me a few. A rabbi, a priest, and a duck walk into a bar..."
Sam rolls his eyes. "I know that one."
"It ends with a choir boy getting bird flu," Castiel says.
Sam cringes.
**
"So," Sam says, after an hour wasted trying to open the door, settling back on his hands. "What was your favorite book?"
"It was a book of words that describe what other kinds of words and phrases do."
Sam laughs, "You mean, a dictionary?"
"No, a book on angel etymology and lexicology. Did you know we have 18 different words for 'cloud'?"
Sam shakes his head. "Can I ask you another question?"
Castiel nods.
Sam takes a deep breath. "What's Michael like?"
Castiel taps his fingers on his leg. "He's nice."
"Really?"
"No, actually he's kind of a jerk." Castiel thinks, leaning back on the bed. "But he was always invited to all the parties."
"Angel parties?" Sam asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"He was in charge of the dip."
Sam's eyes go wide. "Angel parties have chips and dip?"
"No, he was in charge of the dips of the floor where you would put the columns when you're erecting a heavenly monument," Castiel pauses. "I am joking again. Angels are not allowed to have parties."
Sam laughs quietly. "You're getting better at that."
"Michael is feared and respected and sometimes one cannot tell where the fine lines of that begin and end. He is boisterous when he speaks and quiet when nothing needs to be said and he throws himself into everything he does."
"Oh," Sam says, quietly.
"He's also got an incurable appetite. He would steal the manna off of my plate when I wasn't looking."
Sam looks down at his hands as he moves to sit next to Castiel on the bed. "Well, that sounds familiar."
**
Sam looks over at Castiel, "Do angels sleep?"
"Every few centuries."
"Do you dream?"
"We have visions if we're drunk enough."
"Do you breathe?"
"No, but if I didn't now, my vessel would turn purple."
"Are you eating?"
"So my pants do not fall down, yes."
"You do look less... dead these days."
"Thank you."
"Am I bothering you with all these questions?"
"No."
"Do you have any for me?"
"None that I think you'd care to answer."
"Nah, it's okay. You can ask me anything."
"Why are you still wearing those heels even though you're lying down?"
"Because they make my legs look nice."
"Really?"
"No," Sam says, kicking them off. "Well, actually, yeah they did. But I was still joking."
**
"Yeah," Dean says, cracking his arms and rolling his shoulders, completely relaxed. "You're forgiven. Even Steven. Bygones. Sleeping dogs, whatever, oh! Thank you!" Dean opens his mouth for another bite of chocolate mousse fed to him by the girl from the Doritos commercial.
"Good!" Gabriel says, rubbing his hands together. "Now if we can just get other one of you Winchester boys squared away, I'll be set." And he vanishes.
Dean crooks an eyebrow. "The other one what?" he wonders out loud before slapping his forehead. "Sam!" Dean scrambles out of the Jacuzzi, grabbing his clothes.
**
Sam blinks suddenly. "I'm falling asleep."
Castiel nods.
"You don't mind if I close my eyes and just nod off, do you?"
"No, I do not."
"Can I turn off the light?" Sam asks.
"I can see in the dark," Castiel replies and hits the lights.
"You know, you can close your eyes, too."
"But then I can't see in the dark."
Sam quirks his head. "Just close your eyes, and pretend to be asleep, okay? As a personal favor. So I can sleep here knowing you're not just staring at me the whole time."
Castiel nods and closes his eyes. The bed dips and he feels the lightest, quickest sensation of lips on his cheek.
"Don't say anything to Dean, okay?" Sam whispers.
**
Dean finds Gabriel standing outside a room in the weird, sexy hotel he found himself in a few hours ago. He's just rubbing his forehead in some kind of shock and seems to be muttering to himself.
"I just don't get it, I had the setup just perfect! It was exactly what he wanted," Gabriel mumbles.
"Hey!" Dean shouts, "Where's Sam?" he asks, catching up to the room where he sees Sam inside, lying down asleep on the bed, wearing what looked to be hooker-heels and Castiel's trenchcoat. As for Castiel, he's sleeping right next to him, and they're facing each other, though nothing seems to be touching.
"Oh my God what the hell is going on here!?" Dean shouts, stirring both of them.
"Exactly! What the hell, Sam?!" Gabriel shouts along.
"Baseball tickets," Sam says sleepily. "Wait, what?" he looks around the room and gasps seeing Dean, moving back into the headboard.
Dean blinks and claps his hands over his eyes. "Oh my God Sam, why are you wearing Frederick's of Hollywood."
Sam pauses. "How do you know it's Frederick's of Hollywood?"
"Close the damn jacket!" Dean shouts.
"More importantly, why are you wearing that jacket, Sam? And why are you two not having sex yet?" Gabriel says, just as incredulous as Dean.
"Exactly, and-" Dean stops, his brain almost imploding from that idea. "Waitaminute."
Sam takes a deep breath. "Look, we were just sleeping and we're not having sex and you just need to-"
Castiel blinks. "I wasn't sleeping, remember? I was pretending so you wouldn't feel alone."
"Thank you, but as I was saying, you can't just do up this whole wild sexy fantasy thing of his and expect it to make amends to Cas, Gabriel!"
Gabriel sputters. "What? Are you kidding me? Buddy, this was your idea of a wild, sexy fantasy."
Castiel furrows his brow as Dean twitches.
"No..." Sam says, slowly shaking his head.
"Yeah, your deepest darkest fantasy where you're a hooker with a heart of gold and Castiel is the innocent John and you mmmph-"
Dean clamps his hands tight over Gabriel's mouth. "For the love of my sanity and my lunch. Please do not finish that sentence."
Gabriel shrugs as Dean lets go. "Hey, I'm not here to judge. I just can't believe I give your brother exactly what he wants, and he acts like he doesn't want it!"
Dean nods. "Yeah, well that's just Sam," he says, looking at Sam covering his head with his hands in mortification. "Guilt complex, yanno."
"Very complex," Gabriel agrees.
"Someone please kill me now," Sam says into his hands, and Castiel puts his hands on his shoulder.
**
Sam looks up to find himself in the motel room he and Dean were in before the whole thing started. Unfortunately, he's still in the same getup, including Castiel's jacket, and Sam feels something in the pocket that wasn't there before.
He reaches his hand in, and pulls out a little folded paper flower.
**
end.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Castiel, Dean/various people in a hot tub
Wordcount: 2,231
Warning: SPOILERS FOR SPN 5.08!
Notes: Written for woodstarling and her prompt: THE TRICKSTER PLAYS MATCHMAKER. In his own special way :D Which got waaaaay bigger and weirdly schmoopy-er than I intended and so I just decided to stick it here and be done with it.
Thanks: wanttobeatree & woodstarling for making the AWESOME Sam/Castiel Stay Sassy meme! Which you should all go play in! RIGHT NOW!!
Summary: Wherein Castiel and Sam find themselves in a room, and proceed to stumble around each other.
"You know, staring at children in a playground while wearing a trenchcoat isn't as innocent as you think it is, bro."'
Castiel narrows his eyes. "Gabriel."
He smiles, "My friends call me Gabe, actually."
"You have friends?" Castiel asks, crooking his head to one side.
"Well, no," Gabriel says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But they would."
"What do you want Gabriel?" Castiel says.
Gabriel kicks the ground a bit. "I'm bad at apologizing, you know that."
Castiel nods. "Yes, I know this."
"So, um, consider this an apology, kind of..." Gabriel says, holding out his hand to Castiel, sheepish expression on his face.
Castiel looks down at the hand warily. "Consider what?"
"Just," Gabriel nods his head, urging him, "take it, c'mon. Don't make me actually have to ask for forgiveness here."
Castiel lifts up his own hand, mouth tight and indecision reading on his face. He slowly, carefully, expecting a trap to snap any moment, touches his hand.
**
And then Castiel is in the same kind room he recognizes from the time Dean took him to a brothel. He swallows as the door swings open and he closes his eyes tight and hopes beyond hope that it's not another prostitute with a mean right hook like the last one.
Except it's Sam, though you wouldn't be able to tell y the way he's dressed. He's in a red and black lace slip, and what has to be the largest and chunkiest pair of red high heels in the known universe.
Sam's thrust into the room by some invisible force that slams the door shut and presumably locks it tight. Sam's able to stay standing for about one second before his knees wriggle and buckle and he trips over his heels, into Castiel and lands on the bed.
Castiel can't actually speak for a full minute because Sam's freaking out shouting about the Trickster or Gabriel or whatever his name is getting the jump on him and where's Dean and what's going on and how did they find heels in his size? But Sam doesn't really notice that he's doing so the entire time straddling Sam in what Castiel has realized is a very, very thin slip. And one of the straps is hanging off his shoulders and Castiel reaches out to fix it.
Sam shakes out of his cross-dressing-induced panic and flushes, crawling off Castiel's lap with his head bent. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, oh God I am so sorry," Sam repeats, trying to pull down the hem of his slip for some modesty.
Castiel tries to shake out of the mild stupor of warm and fuzzy feeling the situation has put him in; he recognizes it as somewhere between happiness and shame. "Gabriel, this is not how you apologize!" Castiel shouts through the room.
"Apologize?" Sam sputters. "What the hell does an apology have to do with me dressed up like this in a-oh." Sam's eyes get wide. "So this is what Dean meant."
"Meant what?" Castiel asks.
"Nothing," Sam says, biting down on his thumb, and momentarily forgetting to hold down the edge of his slip. "Something about wandering eyes, oh my God stop looking at me," Sam says, face flushed with either anger or embarrassment.
However, Castiel doesn't know the difference to begin with. "Are you hot?"
"Inappropriate-" Sam starts, but realizing he meant temperature-wise he softens his tone. "I mean, no, I'm-I'm a little cold, actually," Sam says, holding out a hand.
"I will find the thermostat," Castiel says, eyeing the room.
Sam rolls his eyes. "I meant give me your jacket."
Castiel looks down to his shoulders, "Oh, yes." He shrugs out of I and hands it to Sam, who immediately tries to get it to close over his chest, but he's just too wide and the sleeves are tight.
"Damn it," Sam mumbles, and finally gets it far enough around him that he can hold it closed by crossing his arms. "Okay, so what do we do now?"
Castiel blinks. "I could tell you about your daddy issues."
Sam gives a sarcastic smile. "I'd rather not."
"Well, I don't know what else to do in a prostitute's room."
"We're in a-" Sam rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh my GOD, that's just perfect," Sam says sitting down on the edge of the bed. "So let me guess the endgame on this one?"
Castiel sits next to him. "Please don't hit me."
"I'm not gonna-" Sam furrows his brow. "What exactly do you think is supposed to happen here, Cas?"
Castiel looks into his eyes.
**
"Ow," Castiel says, holding the ice pack to his jaw.
"Well, you shouldn't have said that thing about my Mom, Cas," Sam huffs.
"You said you wouldn't hit me."
"You don't talk about a guy's Mom like that, Cas! I can't be held responsible for my actions!" Sam sighs, putting his head in his hands. "And how'd you get an ice-pack?"
"I found it," Castiel says.
"Where the hell is Dean?" Sam groans, putting his hands on the back of his head, and then quickly re-crossing them over the borrowed coat to hide his outfit.
**
"And how exactly is this just desserts?" Dean says, glaring down Gabriel.
"It's not," Gabriel shrugs. "I told you, I'm not the best at apologizing," he says finishing off the Snickers bar. "Now do you want to get into the hot tub or not?"
Dean looks down at the bubbling Jacuzzi; Heidi Klum, Samantha Fox, Lt Uhura, Jessica Rabbit and Dr. Sexy, MD, wave back at him.
"Yes, yes I do."
**
Castiel takes a breath. "Gabriel is really lousy at apologies."
Sam ignores him and keeps trying to pick the lock on the door.
"When I was younger he ripped all the pages out of my favorite book and made folded paper flowers out of them. To apologize, he taught me how to make my own."
Sam looks over his shoulder. "You have books?"
Castiel nods. "What else would we read?"
Sam shrugs. "I don't-I guess I just never thought of angels as having anything, y'know, material?"
"We have books and we have instruments and we sleep in beds and buildings are made from stone and we grow gardens and have things that can be lit on fire and never burn away," Castiel pauses. "We don't get cable, though."
Sam snorts. "Is that a joke?"
"Dean taught me a few. A rabbi, a priest, and a duck walk into a bar..."
Sam rolls his eyes. "I know that one."
"It ends with a choir boy getting bird flu," Castiel says.
Sam cringes.
**
"So," Sam says, after an hour wasted trying to open the door, settling back on his hands. "What was your favorite book?"
"It was a book of words that describe what other kinds of words and phrases do."
Sam laughs, "You mean, a dictionary?"
"No, a book on angel etymology and lexicology. Did you know we have 18 different words for 'cloud'?"
Sam shakes his head. "Can I ask you another question?"
Castiel nods.
Sam takes a deep breath. "What's Michael like?"
Castiel taps his fingers on his leg. "He's nice."
"Really?"
"No, actually he's kind of a jerk." Castiel thinks, leaning back on the bed. "But he was always invited to all the parties."
"Angel parties?" Sam asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"He was in charge of the dip."
Sam's eyes go wide. "Angel parties have chips and dip?"
"No, he was in charge of the dips of the floor where you would put the columns when you're erecting a heavenly monument," Castiel pauses. "I am joking again. Angels are not allowed to have parties."
Sam laughs quietly. "You're getting better at that."
"Michael is feared and respected and sometimes one cannot tell where the fine lines of that begin and end. He is boisterous when he speaks and quiet when nothing needs to be said and he throws himself into everything he does."
"Oh," Sam says, quietly.
"He's also got an incurable appetite. He would steal the manna off of my plate when I wasn't looking."
Sam looks down at his hands as he moves to sit next to Castiel on the bed. "Well, that sounds familiar."
**
Sam looks over at Castiel, "Do angels sleep?"
"Every few centuries."
"Do you dream?"
"We have visions if we're drunk enough."
"Do you breathe?"
"No, but if I didn't now, my vessel would turn purple."
"Are you eating?"
"So my pants do not fall down, yes."
"You do look less... dead these days."
"Thank you."
"Am I bothering you with all these questions?"
"No."
"Do you have any for me?"
"None that I think you'd care to answer."
"Nah, it's okay. You can ask me anything."
"Why are you still wearing those heels even though you're lying down?"
"Because they make my legs look nice."
"Really?"
"No," Sam says, kicking them off. "Well, actually, yeah they did. But I was still joking."
**
"Yeah," Dean says, cracking his arms and rolling his shoulders, completely relaxed. "You're forgiven. Even Steven. Bygones. Sleeping dogs, whatever, oh! Thank you!" Dean opens his mouth for another bite of chocolate mousse fed to him by the girl from the Doritos commercial.
"Good!" Gabriel says, rubbing his hands together. "Now if we can just get other one of you Winchester boys squared away, I'll be set." And he vanishes.
Dean crooks an eyebrow. "The other one what?" he wonders out loud before slapping his forehead. "Sam!" Dean scrambles out of the Jacuzzi, grabbing his clothes.
**
Sam blinks suddenly. "I'm falling asleep."
Castiel nods.
"You don't mind if I close my eyes and just nod off, do you?"
"No, I do not."
"Can I turn off the light?" Sam asks.
"I can see in the dark," Castiel replies and hits the lights.
"You know, you can close your eyes, too."
"But then I can't see in the dark."
Sam quirks his head. "Just close your eyes, and pretend to be asleep, okay? As a personal favor. So I can sleep here knowing you're not just staring at me the whole time."
Castiel nods and closes his eyes. The bed dips and he feels the lightest, quickest sensation of lips on his cheek.
"Don't say anything to Dean, okay?" Sam whispers.
**
Dean finds Gabriel standing outside a room in the weird, sexy hotel he found himself in a few hours ago. He's just rubbing his forehead in some kind of shock and seems to be muttering to himself.
"I just don't get it, I had the setup just perfect! It was exactly what he wanted," Gabriel mumbles.
"Hey!" Dean shouts, "Where's Sam?" he asks, catching up to the room where he sees Sam inside, lying down asleep on the bed, wearing what looked to be hooker-heels and Castiel's trenchcoat. As for Castiel, he's sleeping right next to him, and they're facing each other, though nothing seems to be touching.
"Oh my God what the hell is going on here!?" Dean shouts, stirring both of them.
"Exactly! What the hell, Sam?!" Gabriel shouts along.
"Baseball tickets," Sam says sleepily. "Wait, what?" he looks around the room and gasps seeing Dean, moving back into the headboard.
Dean blinks and claps his hands over his eyes. "Oh my God Sam, why are you wearing Frederick's of Hollywood."
Sam pauses. "How do you know it's Frederick's of Hollywood?"
"Close the damn jacket!" Dean shouts.
"More importantly, why are you wearing that jacket, Sam? And why are you two not having sex yet?" Gabriel says, just as incredulous as Dean.
"Exactly, and-" Dean stops, his brain almost imploding from that idea. "Waitaminute."
Sam takes a deep breath. "Look, we were just sleeping and we're not having sex and you just need to-"
Castiel blinks. "I wasn't sleeping, remember? I was pretending so you wouldn't feel alone."
"Thank you, but as I was saying, you can't just do up this whole wild sexy fantasy thing of his and expect it to make amends to Cas, Gabriel!"
Gabriel sputters. "What? Are you kidding me? Buddy, this was your idea of a wild, sexy fantasy."
Castiel furrows his brow as Dean twitches.
"No..." Sam says, slowly shaking his head.
"Yeah, your deepest darkest fantasy where you're a hooker with a heart of gold and Castiel is the innocent John and you mmmph-"
Dean clamps his hands tight over Gabriel's mouth. "For the love of my sanity and my lunch. Please do not finish that sentence."
Gabriel shrugs as Dean lets go. "Hey, I'm not here to judge. I just can't believe I give your brother exactly what he wants, and he acts like he doesn't want it!"
Dean nods. "Yeah, well that's just Sam," he says, looking at Sam covering his head with his hands in mortification. "Guilt complex, yanno."
"Very complex," Gabriel agrees.
"Someone please kill me now," Sam says into his hands, and Castiel puts his hands on his shoulder.
**
Sam looks up to find himself in the motel room he and Dean were in before the whole thing started. Unfortunately, he's still in the same getup, including Castiel's jacket, and Sam feels something in the pocket that wasn't there before.
He reaches his hand in, and pulls out a little folded paper flower.
**
end.