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postal152
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Mistletoe.
"Uh, Dean?"
Dean halted in his steps, hackles raised at the tone of mischief and glee in his baby brother's voice. This was not good.
Couldn't the brat let him look good in front of the Angel of the Friggin' Lord for once? Not that he cared what Castiel thought. Really.
"Sam?" He asked in a wary 'what the fuck did you do, Sammy? I swear to your freaking God, if you messed with my shit again I will end you' tone. Castiel stared at them both steadily, probably wondering what insanity the cracked humans were about to exhibit next.
Sam's lips were twitching, his eyes staring over Dean's head at some point on the ceiling.
He had that gut punch of dread that told him he wasn't going to be happy when he found out what the hell had Sam so fucking giggly. He looked up.
Had Castiel been anyone else this would never have been an issue, but the Angel had personal space issues, he really didn't seem to know about the existence of personal bubbles. Or at least, he didn't acknowledge that Dean had one. The mistletoe was perfectly positioned over their heads. He couldn't have done better if he'd raised the damned piece of prissy plant over their heads himself. Not that he would. Not that he wanted to.
"Sam!"
"I didn't do it!" Sam denied as he turned red from swallowing his laughter.
"This is one of your Christmas traditions," Castiel spoke, interrupting him from serious considerations of fratricide. The Angel was staring up the scraggly bit of mistletoe like it was fascinating, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat, the delicate bit of skin at the base that wasn't covered by his shirt.
"Yeah, it is. You can smite Sam now if you want. I don't think I'm gonna miss the little bitch much after this," Dean glared at his convulsing brother.
Castiel turned his stare on Dean. "Get to the Seal," he ordered.
Before disappearing, Castiel took a step forward and quickly, like a bobbing avian, laid a wet smack on Dean's lips.
Dean's mouth fell open and Sam stopped laughing. They stared at each other with wide eyes.
Realization hit.
Dean sputtered.
Sam shrieked with laughter.
Dean pounced. If the jackass wanted to laugh, he'd make Sam laugh until he fucking pissed his pants, Dean thought as he vicious dug his fingers into Sam's sides.
"Uh, Dean?"
Dean halted in his steps, hackles raised at the tone of mischief and glee in his baby brother's voice. This was not good.
Couldn't the brat let him look good in front of the Angel of the Friggin' Lord for once? Not that he cared what Castiel thought. Really.
"Sam?" He asked in a wary 'what the fuck did you do, Sammy? I swear to your freaking God, if you messed with my shit again I will end you' tone. Castiel stared at them both steadily, probably wondering what insanity the cracked humans were about to exhibit next.
Sam's lips were twitching, his eyes staring over Dean's head at some point on the ceiling.
He had that gut punch of dread that told him he wasn't going to be happy when he found out what the hell had Sam so fucking giggly. He looked up.
Had Castiel been anyone else this would never have been an issue, but the Angel had personal space issues, he really didn't seem to know about the existence of personal bubbles. Or at least, he didn't acknowledge that Dean had one. The mistletoe was perfectly positioned over their heads. He couldn't have done better if he'd raised the damned piece of prissy plant over their heads himself. Not that he would. Not that he wanted to.
"Sam!"
"I didn't do it!" Sam denied as he turned red from swallowing his laughter.
"This is one of your Christmas traditions," Castiel spoke, interrupting him from serious considerations of fratricide. The Angel was staring up the scraggly bit of mistletoe like it was fascinating, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat, the delicate bit of skin at the base that wasn't covered by his shirt.
"Yeah, it is. You can smite Sam now if you want. I don't think I'm gonna miss the little bitch much after this," Dean glared at his convulsing brother.
Castiel turned his stare on Dean. "Get to the Seal," he ordered.
Before disappearing, Castiel took a step forward and quickly, like a bobbing avian, laid a wet smack on Dean's lips.
Dean's mouth fell open and Sam stopped laughing. They stared at each other with wide eyes.
Realization hit.
Dean sputtered.
Sam shrieked with laughter.
Dean pounced. If the jackass wanted to laugh, he'd make Sam laugh until he fucking pissed his pants, Dean thought as he vicious dug his fingers into Sam's sides.
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That was adorable. And of course Cas would poof out right after.
Nice
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Dean was assaulted! He wants to press charges! Kiss and dodge?! What's THAT! Castiel owes him more smoochies!
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Thank you!
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Dean doesn't find it so unfortunate, he probably regrets not being able to participate a little more. But since it was in front of Sammy...yeah.
Sammy needs a fresh pair of pants is all I'm sayin'
*cackles*
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Yay!