Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby
Genre: Comedy/romance
“Hey, Deed, take a look at this,” Sam said from the desk in
the hotel room. “Is this what you saw?”
Dean stopped dismantling his gun long enough to give Sam a
look that expressed exactly how stupid he thought Sam was for mispronouncing
his own brother’s name.
“What did you just call me?” Dean asked.
“Your name?” Sam said, his expression adding, “unless you’re
too intoxicated to recognize it.”
Whatever, Dean was too tired to argue about it. He probably was hearing things. As long as the
voices didn’t start commanding him to sacrifice fluffy bunnies or trade the
hearts of the people in the next hotel room for a new engine in impala, then it
was simply an indicator that he needed some sleep. Or a drink.
He approached the desk and leaned over Sam’s shoulder to look
at the creature on the laptop screen. It was a thin, stooped, old man dragging
a sack large enough to contain several bodies.
“Yeah, that’s Mr. Ugly.”
Sam nodded. The corner of his lip twitched up as if savoring the
punch line of a joke that only a nerds would find amusing.
“So what is it?” Dean asked, wanting to get it over with.
“The Sandman.”
Dean blinked. “As in Mr. ‘Send-me-a-dream’ Sandman?”
Sam opened his mouth to speak and Dean just knew that
whatever he was going to say would combine with the smarmy grin on his face and
make him all too punchable.
.
“You know what?” Dean interrupted. “Never mind. I don’t know
why I’m even surprised. The only real question is how do we take it out?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Sam frowned. “Kill the
sandman and people might never sleep again.”
“Can’t say I’d miss it.” Dean winced, not at because he was
remembering his nightmares—they weren’t the kind he could forget—but because he
had just handed Sam the opening to talk about his favorite subject.
He waited to see what approach Sam would take to try to manhandle
Dean into some touchy feely moment where they cried and hugged and talked about
their latest dresses.
“Ok, but I want to do more research first,” Sam said,
surprising him. “I’m going to need access to more than what I can find online. Why
don’t you call Castile so he can zap us over to Booby’s?”
Dean blinked. “That’s not funny, Sam.”
Sam glared at him. “Don't be a jerk.”
“I’m not the one calling people stupid names.”
“You just called me ‘Sam,’ you haven’t done that since grade
school.”
“What, you actually like ‘Sammy’ now?”
“I like ‘Sham’ because…” Sam gave Dean a look as if he
thought he was the stupidest person ever. “It’s my name.”
Dean blinked again. If nothing else this conversation was
ensuring that the moisture in his eyes was well distributed.
“Sham? What the hell?” He knew Sam had never possessed the
same aptitude for creating nicknames he did, but still…
Then he understood. This wasn’t about Sam making up lame
names for everyone; this was about Sam trying to get revenge on Dean for replacing
his bottled water with egg whites.
“Even by your standards this is a lame prank,” Dean said. He
folded his arms and smirked, pleased to have ruined Sam’s joke so quickly.
“What prank?”
“You can stop now, or next time you get wasted I’m having
‘Sham’ tattooed on your ass.”
“Deed, are you feeling all right?” Sam’s brow furrowed in
what could have passed for genuine worry. Maybe he’d missed his calling by
going to law school. He should have been an actor. That look of I’m-concerned-my-brother-is-under-a-spell
was very good, much more convincing than his argument.
“Drop the act, we both know my name is 'Dean.'”
Sam snorted. “Dean? As in ‘to do a good dean?’”
“As in I’m Dean, you’re Sam, the angel’s Castiel, and the old
guy with all the answers—and the booze—is Bobby.”
Sam laughed. “So let me get this straight, I’m a lie, the
angel’s soap, and breasts hold all the answers?”
“That’s it. I’m done playing along with this.” Dean snatched
up Sam’s laptop.
“Yeah, sure, help yourself, Dean.”
He ignored Sam’s pathetic attempt at an insult and
concentrated on accessing the first online dictionary he could find. As soon as
the search bar appeared he entered the most important of the suspect words:
Dean:
noun
1. Something that is
accomplished or performed.
2. A feat or
achievement.
3. Deans. An
act illustrative of character.
4. law. A
sealed document effecting conveyance of property.
This was bad.
“Are you done?” Sam asked.
Dean shoved the laptop back at him. “Something is seriously
not right here.” He should call Bobby and see if he knew what could cause a
curse like this and why. It better not be witches. At least it wasn’t gooey
enough yet to be witches. He hoped it stayed that way.
“I’m going to call Bobby,” Dean announced.
Sam snorted like a ten year old in sex ed. This was going to
get old. And Bobby wasn’t likely to be any better.
For once Castiel’s absolute lack of a sense of humor seemed
appealing.
“Never mind. I’m calling Cas.”
“You do that. Don’t forget to tell him we need to go to bobbies—I
mean Booby's.” Sam laughed.
This was exactly why the angels chose him over Sam. It was
for his incredible self-control. It practically required sainthood not to punch
Sam each and every day.
“Ok, I’m going to have this conversation away from you.” Dean
grabbed the impala keys and headed toward the door. “Try to grow up while I’m
gone.”
Dean went to the impala, only it wasn’t the impala anymore. The
body was the same, but what the chrome letters spelled made Dean freeze in his
tracks.
'impaler.'
“Oh, Baby, not you too.” Dean rubbed his hand across the word
“Impaler” as if to wipe it away. It remained firmly attached. Whoever—whatever—was
responsible for this was on a fast track to a salt and burn.
Dean took a seat behind the wheel. He’d hoped the spell was
limited to Sam and his laptop. He hoped it didn’t affect anyone in the more
angelic realms. He mouthed a silent prayer (something would never admit to)
then dialed Castiel to give him his location.
Dutiful as ever, the angel appeared in the passenger seat.
“Hello, Deed,” Castiel said, his voice low and steady.
Dean repressed a sigh.
Castiel looked around the way Dean had taught him, making
sure they were alone and out of sight before he leaned in for a kiss. His lips
were warm and soft and tasted of something Dean could never quite pinpoint but was
happy to dedicate plenty of time to trying.
“We’ve got a problem,” Dean said, pulling away before allowing
himself to become too distracted.
Castiel nodded and waited patiently. He’d been summoned by the
Winchesters often enough to expect nothing less.
“The meanings of certain words have been changed by some kind
of magical douchebaggery.” And the more he thought about it there was only one entity
thing that would do something this pointless.
“What words?”
“So far our names: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel and Impala are
now Deed, Sham, Booby, Castile and Impaler.”
While it was what he’d wanted, there is a part of Dean that’s
still disturbed when Castiel doesn’t laugh.
“What would be the purpose of this?” Castiel looks so serious
it’s hard to resist the temptation to mess him up. Make there be an actual reason
for him to perpetually look like he’d just rolled out of bed.
Damn it, he was getting distracted again. Really, it was
Castiel’s fault for starting with a kiss.
“I don’t know,” Dean said, dragging his mind back to the
topic. “But I’m about to look for candy wrappers.”
“You suspect Gabriel?”
“It reeks of trickster.” Whose name, Dean noted, was
conspicuously untouched.
“I saw him recently, he seemed…” Castiel’s expression
darkened. “I have to go.”
“Wait, Cas—”
But he was already gone.
#
When Dean returned to the hotel room Sam was no longer alone.
Because his day just kept getting better and better.
“Honey, I’m home,” Dean said loudly, watching the two jump
apart in guilt. He wished Sam had the same decency he did to keep his
relationship a secret. He didn’t want to see Sam locking lips with a demon any
more than Sam wanted to see him do it with an angel.
“Deed,” Ruby said, her expression making it clear that she
wanted him to leave and not come back.
Dean sprawled on his bed and flipped on the TV, reveling in
how much he must be irritating her.
“So, Ruby,” Dean said, his tone casual. “Still in between
gigs unleashing things on the planet?”
She glared at him even harder than usual.
“Deed, don’t call her that. I’ve asked you to be nice to
Rabies.”
Dean choked. He tried to hold back his laughter but then gave
up, because this was one thing that needed
to be laughed at.
“Sorry, Rabies, Deed has lost his mind today. Ignore him.” It
was clear from Sam’s expression he wasn’t able to tune out Dean’s guffaws, but
he tried his best anyway, attempting to change the subject. “Let me show you—”
Dean never would find out Sham wanted to show Rabies for he
found himself transported to another room, one that looked suspiciously like a
library in an adult movie he’d seen last night after Sam had fallen asleep.
Castiel and Gabriel were there. Both were dressed as
librarians, complete with tweed jackets, elbow pads, spectacles and neckties.
Castiel managed to be as disheveled as ever, and as ever, it wasn’t a
detraction. Not to mention that Castiel in glasses was totally hot. He could’ve
definitely pulled off the whole porno thing. And while Dean would have picked
someone other than Gabriel to costar, he was starting to hope that this had
nothing to do with the case and Castiel was taking his suggestion that they try
something more adventurous.
“Hello, Deed,” Gabriel said with a smile big enough to make
it clear that he knew exactly how much it pissed off Dean.
“Ok, so what did you do?” Dean asked as his hopes for a threesome
disintegrated.
“I thought you were quicker on the uptake. After all, it
should have been fairly obvious.” Gabriel took a seat on the desk and picked up
a ruler. The way he was fiddling with it was all too familiar.
So Gabriel had seen the same porno. Because yet another
supernatural being had nothing better to do than spy on Dean Winchester.
“I think what Deed meant,” Castiel said. “Was why did you do it?”
“Thank you, Castile, for cleaning—clearing that up.” Gabriel
smirked and Dean did his best not to punch him. He was as bad as Sam. Maybe
when Sam finally came to his senses about Rabies (because that was her name
forever now, whether the others changed back or not) Cas could hook him up with
Gabriel, then they could annoy each other and leave him the fuck alone.
Then the image of them together drifted into his mind and he
shivered. Never mind. Terrible idea.
“Whatever,” Dean said focusing on the issue again. “Hurry up
and change them back.”
“Why does it matter, Deed? They’re only words.”
“They’re not just words, they’re names and I happened to like
mine.”
“Words, names,” Gabriel waved his hand, “same difference. What
does it matter what something’s called?”
“Wait till you hear what I’m going to call you.” Dean took a
step forward and Castiel grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Take words like…” Gabriel acted like he was searching for a
random example even though they all knew he wasn’t. “’Friends’ and ‘boyfriends’
or ‘gay’ and ‘straight’ or even ‘like’ and ‘love.’ They’re all the same.”
Dean shifted his glower to rest on Castiel.
Castiel let go of his arm and stepped back. He briefly looked
at his shoes, which Dean had long ago identified as the angel equivalent of
fidgeting.
“Something you want to tell me, Cas?”
“Uh, no.” He was nervous now, enough to rub his hand across
the back of his neck. Usually this type of reaction was reserved for the really
big bads. Like Lucifer, three seconds before Castiel liquidation. Or the time
Dean tried to make him sleep with a prostitute.
“Cas, what did you say to Gabriel?”
“Only that I value your friendship.”
“He was defending you,” Gabriel said. “'Deed doesn’t have to
say he loves me,’ ‘I’m Deed's secret friend,’ blah blah blah blah blah. Just
man up, Deed, admit what you feel, come out to your family and friends and your
names will be restored.”
“Gabriel, I don’t need those things from Deed, I’m content
with how things are.” The change in Castiel’s stance was subtle but Dean recognized
it as preparation for battle. Gabriel had better beware because for a nerd
angel Cas could be fierce.
…And combined with the get up that just made it all the more
hot. Librarian Cas could make Dean repay his late fees any time—and any way—he
wanted.
“Then Deed can be content with the way things are as well,”
Gabriel said, spoiling Dean’s fantasy yet again.
Dean needed to focus anyway. He couldn’t let Castiel fight
his battles for him. While it may not seem like there was much one man could do
against a rogue arch angel, if anyone could find a way it would be him.
“Gabriel,” Dean said just above a growl. “Don’t make me hurt
you.”
“You know how to fix it, Deed-o. Ta ta for now.” Gabriel
snapped his fingers and Dean was back in his hotel room.
Where Rabies was doing unspeakable things to Sham.
#
Later at Bobby’s house, Dean helped himself to a six pack of
beer while he debated how to make his big announcement. Because fine, maybe it
was time to let everyone else in on this change in his life. They wouldn’t have
to sneak around anymore. Hell, maybe they’d even one-up his brother on public
displays of affection. All in all it would be beneficial to be open about their
relationship.
It absolutely wasn’t like Gabriel was winning.
The problem was, he just wasn’t the announcement kind of guy.
What was he supposed to do, come up with some big speech about finding the the
person that made the horrors of his life melt away? Booby could play
accompaniment on his harmonica while Sham and Rabies shared a snot rag to mop
up big, fat, crocodile tears.
No.
Dean cracked open the last beer.
Castiel was sitting across from him on the couch, trying to
put as much distance between himself and Rabies, who, unfortunately, was trying
to put as little distance as possible between herself and Sam. Dean wasn’t sure
oxygen molecules could get in there. Every few moments Castiel would give Dean
a quick look as if to see what he was going to do next. He looked so guilty that
someone was bound to ask about it eventually.
Dean wasn’t mad anymore. Well, not at Castiel. Gabriel was
another story. While it may have been Castiel’s fault for getting Dean into
this mess, Dean couldn’t begrudge him what he had sought from Gabriel: reassurance.
It was a human thing to want and Castiel was becoming progressively more human
each day and Dean had only himself to blame for that.
Although next time Castiel decided to open up, he needed to
do it with someone that wasn’t going to cast any freaky juju on Dean when he
messed up. Because let’s face it, he was good at messing up.
Dean took a long pull of his beer to gather his courage for
what he was about to do.
Dean crossed the room with purpose—and maybe a hint of
intoxication—in his stride. He stopped in front of Castiel.
The angel looked up at him nervously as if not only did he
expect to be punched but that he considered it well deserved.
Dean didn’t know where he got that idea. He punched a lot less
people than he ought to.
He waited until Sam and Rabies noticed him before he pulled
Castiel to his feet. He slotted his mouth to Castiel’s, his tongue demanding
entry against the seam of his lips.
Castiel made a muffled noise of surprise, but then his body
became loose and pliant as he opened to allow Dean access.
“Ack, Dean my
eyes!” Bobby said, and Dean’s name had never sounded so good on anyone’s lips.
Except maybe Castiel’s. He had half a mind to send the angel
away just so he could return and greet him with a nice, throaty “Hello, Dean.”
“Dude, Dean, if you’re going to go gay for an angel at least
do it in your room,” Sam said.
Dean pulled back from Castiel, whose eyes were now glossy and
dark, before turning to look at Sam.
“This from Mr. Went-Freaky-for-a-Demon?” Dean smirked and Sam
glared. “But that’s not a bad idea. Now that my name is back I’m going to see
how it sounds coming from Cas,” he paused for effect, “while he’s moaning
beneath me.”
Sam may have been stunned speechless but Rabies was gagging
beside him—and if that wasn’t the sweet cherry filling then he didn’t know what
was.
He tugged a willing Castiel after him as they went up the
stairs toward the guest room.
“You better wash the damn sheets before you leave,” Bobby
shouted.
Dean chose to interpret that as an indirect blessing.
“Still got those glasses, Cas?” Dean whispered.
“I have no need to correct my vision, Dean.”
“They’re not for your vision. Conjure some for me.”
“Ok.” Castiel frowned. Dean repressed the urge to kiss it
away only because it would make the trek to the bedroom longer. “But I don’t
understand what possible purpose they could serve.”
“You will.” Dean was very enthused about showing him.
Everything
was normal again.
Thank
fuck.
The End
This
story is dedicated to autocorrect, without its inspiration this never would
have been written.
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