Fic Teasers and a Question on Preference?
May. 24th, 2011 06:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aerilexBringing Home Baby
Castiel tried not to be offended at the overly-tender treatment he was getting as he was moved from the wheelchair to the passenger’s seat of the Impala (Dean wanted to keep an eye on him and it was harder to do that and drive if he was in the back) with all the gentle care a new parent would show their infant babe. He tried not to be offended when he was then systematically swaddled in a pile of blankets by both Dean and Sam.
He knew that they were concerned—the aftermath of the final battle with Raphael left him with extensive injury, from a shattered ulna and radius to a nearly-crushed throat and damaged vocal cords topped with a terrible case of pneumonia that had had the doctors nearly frantic. He still couldn’t talk much, barely able to make small sounds in the back of his throat before the pain became overwhelming. So instead, he stared hard at Dean and tried to convey how hard he was trying not to be offended by all this as Dean gently eased a pillow between his head and the jam between the door and the leather seat.
“Don’t even,” Dean grunted without looking at him, sitting back to assess his and Sam’s coddling. “You got your ass kicked six ways from Sunday just to gank Raphie and—and you’re human now, Cas. And sometimes humans—especially the ones that are basically babies—get to sit back, shut up, and let someone else take care of them. Now sit back and relax. You gotta be exhausted.”
He was purposely baiting Castiel with that ‘babies’ remark, the ex-angel knew. Castiel didn’t know why Dean delighted in getting a rise out of him, but he was tired and he didn’t feel like arguing. Especially if he couldn’t argue out loud.
Sam snickered quietly in the backseat, and from the way Dean swiveled a glare at him Castiel guessed that his amusement was derived more from something Dean had done than from Castiel’s situation. Choosing to ignore the brothers, he settled in and prepared for the long drive back to Bobby’s house.
A drive that would surely be made longer by the pace Dean was setting.
Castiel blinked at the speedometer then at his charge. Dean was driving atypically slowly, 10 miles under the speed limit instead of his usual 20 over. He glanced over his shoulder toward Sam, who was smirking and rolling his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Cas,” Sam encouraged. “We might get there sometime next week.”
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean glared at his brother in the rearview mirror, then glanced warmly at Castiel. “He’s right though, you should try to sleep.”
Castiel gave a slight nod and reluctantly closed his eyes. Dean kept the radio low, and between his soft humming and the purr of the Impala’s engine, Castiel soon found himself dozing off.
High. No. I Mean, Hii-iiigh...
They didn’t know what it was. They didn’t know what it was, and Castiel broke his own damn rule by touching it anyway.
And now they were all covered in sticky, purple, glittery goo, and they all had Castiel to blame.
After along pause during which he and Sam both tensed in order to see whether or not any adverse affects were imminent, Dean glared at him. Hard. “What the hell, Cas?” he asked.
Castiel blinked up at him, looking dazed for a moment. Dean frowned. “Cas?” he prompted again.
Castiel stared back. Then, he giggled. Seeing a full-on Angel of the freaking Lord breaking into a fit of giggles like a freaking schoolgirl, Dean and Sam exchanged a long, long look.
“Um, Castiel?” Sam asked. “You okay there, buddy?”
Castiel wrapped his arms around his middle, curling into himself as he continued chortling out peals of laughter.
Shit, the angel’s gone loco, Dean thought, reaching toward Castiel without knowing what he could do to help anyway.
Kitty-Cas
It was Castiel’s fault. Dean would insist that this was true for at least the first day of the curse. His logic? Exhibit A: the goddamn angel didn’t know any better than to follow Dean around with that kicked-puppy look even though they were supposed to be fighting. Exhibit B: Cas had chosen despite Dean’s warnings to throw himself in the path of the mojo that the monster of the week—in this case, some great-grandkid of the goddess Bast—tossed at them. Exhibit C: well...there wasn’t really an Exhibit C, but still the whole damn thing was simply Castiel’s freaking fault, end of conversation.
“Cas!” Dean threw up the crossbow and released the blessed holly-shafted arrow (dipped in everything Castiel had thought to add to their special demigoddess-killing soupy stuff). The half-deity’s eyes—golden and wide like a cat’s—had grown round and she had let loose a hiss like a lion’s roar before exploding into a pile of sand on the floor.
Before the last grain of sand hit the ground, Dean had rushed to kneel at Cas’ side. “You dumbass!” he cursed the angel. Castiel blinked at him in eloquent response, his eyes glassy and his face pale. “She’s dead now, Cas. Why do you still look high?” Dean demanded, shaking him slightly by the shoulders. Castiel slurred up at him in response for a moment, and Dean wasn’t entirely sure but he thought the angel might be speaking in Enochian. He frowned. “What kinda mojo’d she hit you with, Cas?”
Castiel made a strange, mewling sound. A shudder went through him, and his body suddenly seized up in Dean’s grasp. His face tightened, eyes slamming shut.
“Cas?” Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulders, trying to rouse a response. “Castiel? Talk to me, man.”
Castiel shot him a quick, shocked look.
And then everything went to shit at 100mph.
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-25 07:24 am (UTC)But my favorite? Has to be the last one; I'm just a huge sucker for things that go "meow" :3
no subject
Date: 2011-05-25 04:59 pm (UTC)