![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iliaTitle: Confidence and Optimism
Author:ladyyueh
Recipient:mummyluvr314
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 4x22
Warnings: Slightly cracky.
Word Count: ~2100
Notes/Prompt: “Dean's been cursed with confidence, and decides that he's finally going to go after his angel. After all, Dean's irresistible.” Sorry but I couldn’t really manage any angst, but I hope you enjoy the humor. For the 2009 Secret Angels Exchange
Summary: Sam knows there's something wrong with Dean
----
Sam awoke to the sound of humming.
He experienced a surreal moment of dissonance at an action that was so normal it drove right into the state of disturbing like it lived there. People shouldn’t be humming when there was a freaking apocalypse going on. Especially not when he was the one who’d kicked off the whole fucking event.
Yeah, okay, skeezy angel-dicks had a big part of the blame, but in the end it had been his own fucking hubris which had pretty much screwed the world.
While he wallowed in self-pity and angst, Dean—because who else could it possibly be, he’d recognize Dean anywhere in any state—was still humming and the action had, in fact, increased in both volume and cheer.
Sam wondered what hell the new day held for them and was certain he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t exactly stay in bed for the duration of the apocalypse. Well, he could, but he doubted Lucifer was the kind of guy who’d respect the fact that a man was in bed.
Sam finally decided to bite the bullet and sat up in bed. “Dean? Are you humming? ‘Come on get happy’?” He had to ask and verify that the occurrence wasn’t just another hallucination.
Dean stopped humming and grinned. He grinned that cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the toughest shit you’ve ever seen and you know you love me’ grin that had always made Sam want to pop him one. The grin he hadn’t worn with sincerity since long before he’d made that crossroads deal.
First, Sam had the fleeting and deluded hope that the past four years had only been a nightmare. He discarded that thought as way too optimistic for their lives and wondered whether they’d fallen down the fucking rabbit hole or something. With their lives, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.
“What’s with the frown, Sammy? Apocalypse gotcha down? Come on, stop being such a chick. I got this.” Dean assured him before launching into an ear drum bursting rendition of “We Will Rock You.”
And like that, Sam knew something was very very wrong.
----
Dean knew that he should frown or sigh in exasperation at the look on Sam’s face, but the kid was harshing his buzz. Sure the Apocalypse was nigh, Lucifer was out and about, and all that shit, but that wasn’t a reason to be a total killjoy.
“Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam asked and Dean could detect the worry that was buried under the harsh aggression.
This time Dean did frown. “Wrong with me? Sammy, there’s nothing wrong with me. I feel awesome. If anything, I think we should get you looked at.”
“You were humming!” Sam accused, as if the action were on par with drinking demon blood or something.
“Ye-ah, I was. That’s what people do when they’re in a good mood. Are you seriously freaking out on me because of a little good cheer? Or are you just jealous of my powerful vocals?”
Sam stared at him warily, as if Dean was possessed or he’d finally slipped his lid. “I’m calling Bobby,” Sam announced and then tensed, ready for some sort of attack to prevent him from doing so.
“You do that, Sammy. I need to tell him how whacked out you’re acting.” Dean tossed Sam his cell and Sam dialed without taking his eyes from Dean.
Dean rolled his eyes before he threw himself into an unconcerned sprawl onto his still rumpled bed.
“Bobby, something’s wrong with Dean!” was the first thing out of Sam’s mouth.
Dean watched with amusement as Sam backtracked quickly. “No, he’s not hurt. Yeah, he still has his soul. No, Lucifer hasn’t kidnapped him and made him his bitch.”
Dean snickered. Bobby was awesome. He couldn’t help the roar of laughter that escaped him when he heard Bobby’s bellowing response.
“Boy, unless you’re bleeding and about to leave this mortal coil you can damn well use whatever manners have managed to soak into your fool head. Now, what’s wrong with your brother? Is that idjit laughing?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Bobby. Dean’s been acting weird.”
“It’s the godforsaken apocalypse, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t acting odd.”
“Bobby, he was humming,” Sam hissed as he confessed the information.
There was a moment of silence as Sam waited for a response and then his jaw dropped slightly with surprise. “He hung up on me,” Sam said in a high-pitched voice full of betrayal.
“And I didn’t even get to tell him about how paranoid and nutso you’re being,” Dean joked.
Sam narrowed his eyes and got his bitch face on. Dean managed not to smile and reigned in the urge to ruffle his man-bitch brother’s hair.
“You’re supposed to be paranoid and twitchy when the fucking apocalypse is on your doorstep, Dean. You’re not meant to burst into song!”
“Well, excuse me for trying to keep positive.”
“Oh, that is it. Something is definitely wrong with you. CASTIEL!”
Dean smirked when, after a long period of expectant silence, nothing happened. “Cas is my angel, Sammy. He’s not going to come running when you call.”
Sam felt like he really had just stepped into the Twilight Zone. Maybe the Trickster had decided to pay them a visit for being such dour assholes? “Did you just call him your angel?” Clearly, he was hearing things, but it didn’t do any harm to make sure.
Dean shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, he doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll come around. I have it all planned out.”
Sam decided that he was too sane for this conversation.
Castiel decided that was the perfect time to show up.
Sam knew he probably looked like a gaping idiot, but what was he supposed to do when Dean stood and swaggered into Castiel’s personal space with his special ‘I’m so sexy, look at my crotch’ walk and that look on his face that said he was on the prowl for prey that would soon be begging for it. He supposed he could spork his eyes out.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean drawled in a low, husky voice paired with lidded and very suggestive eyes. Sam couldn’t ignore or deny it, those were some of Dean’s big guns; to be used in the event that Dean was trying to wriggle into someone’s pants.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answered. Was it Sam’s imagination or was Castiel staring at Dean more intensely than usual?
“Sam, didn’t you say you had somewhere else to be.” What should have been a question was so very obviously an order to scram. Sam would have actually loved to oblige except for the fact that he was pretty sure his brother planned to seduce an angel.
“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked without taking his gaze away from Dean.
Sam watched with horror as Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder and seriously delivered the line, “Nothing’s wrong—at least, not now that you’re here.”
Dean moved his intense stare from Castiel’s eyes to a lower area and Sam had the sinking feeling that he’d be tonguing Castiel if Sam weren’t in the room—actually, he seemed to be leaning…
“THAT!” Sam shouted, startling both of them visibly and averting any kind of lip action. Had they just forgotten he was here? “Dean isn’t acting like himself. He’s—”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Dean assured them as he practically draped himself over the angel.
Castiel finally looked like he was getting with the program.
Dean looked like he was ready to get lucky as he wrapped himself around Castiel and started sucking face.
Sam covered his eyes quickly, like the little kids that believed things ceased to exist if they couldn’t see them. He really wished that were so because he could still hear things; wet, sucking noises that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but lewd.
The voice of self-preservation spoke up then. He’d told Castiel something was wrong and now the angel had proof of it. It wasn’t like Dean could actually take advantage of Castiel because the guy was an angel with divine powers and super-human strength. There really was no reason for Sam to be here unless he wanted to be scarred for the rest of what was going to probably be a very short and violent life.
Sam struggled out of bed and risked a peek to find the keys to the Impala. Ignoring his disheveled state of dress, he rushed to the door and left the occupants with a final order, “Fix him, Castiel!”
----
Dean reluctantly pulled away from kissing Cas to take a breath, but he didn’t go far as he nuzzled and nibbled his way along the angel’s jaw. “Mmmm, so good, Cas,” he crooned into Cas’s ear, and felt smug and satisfied when he felt Cas shiver in his arms.
It really was a good thing Sam had finally gotten a clue by four and left them alone. If he’d known a kiss was all it took he’d have done it sooner instead of trying for that sappy clichéd stuff to run him off to puke.
“Dean,” Cas murmured and this time it was Dean’s turn to tremble and go kind of weak at the knees.
Dean went in to continue their kiss and lead it into something involving a bed and lots of sweat, but Cas’s hand took a hold of his chin and he couldn’t win against angelic strength.
Cas stared at him and Dean smiled in response, preened under the attention, and enjoyed the ‘just kissed’ look Cas was sporting.
“You’re under a spell,” Cas noted with a small hint of surprise.
“I know,” Dean said as he wriggled his lower body in an attempt to get closer, to arouse and tempt his angel into the delicious sin of carnality.
“You—that is why I could not sense it without looking deeper,” Castiel spoke as the realization dawned on him. “You cast the spell on yourself.”
“Yup. Now that that’s cleared up, I think we should have sex. Lots and lots of sex. We should fuck until I can’t walk. That sound good to you?” Dean asked as he flicked his tongue out to suggestively glide along Cas’s index finger.
“Why are you doing this?” Castiel looked serious and unemotional, but Dean could see how his eyes kept dropping to Dean’s mouth. “Nothing will happen until you tell me,” Castiel added in that resolved ‘you’ll do what I say or I’ll toss you back into the pit’ voice, which had kind of become a huge turn on. Apparently, a lot of the things Cas did now did it for Dean. It was sort of awesome.
Dean pouted and went limp against Castiel. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“What spell have you cast and why, Dean?”
“Nothing big, Cas. But you know how fucked up I am about hell and I can’t let that shit mess with my head if I’m gonna to be going up against Lucifer. So, I gave myself a boost of confidence and a pinch of positive attitude and you have the recipe for one fantastic, ass-kicking Dean Winchester.”
Castiel frowned. “That wasn’t a wise decision. Did you also add some sexual supplement?”
Dean glared. “I am not taking Viagra! A guy gets a little happy and wants to fool around with his angel and he gets nothing but cock-eyed looks. You really don’t want to sleep with me?” Dean asked with disappointment.
“I—it would not be prudent, Dean. You’re under an enchantment and I would simply be taking advantage. Clearly, there were some unexpected side effects or you would not be acting this way.” Castiel looked determined and staunch; the perfect, unemotional, angelic soldier.
“I think you’re lying,” Dean asserted with certainty. “The things I want haven’t changed it’s just that I’m willing to go after them now. I want this. I want you.”
“I won’t be used for sexual gratification,” Castiel warned him.
“And if it were for more?” Dean asked seriously.
Castiel paused, momentarily surprised, before the angelic power and energy he wielded filled the room and ratcheted the intensity up to scorching. “Then it would be forever.”
“I can live with that,” Dean declared.
This time, Castiel kissed him.
Oh yeah, I’m awesome.
----
Sam stared, willing the hallucination to disperse. No such luck. “I need a spork,” he muttered as he looked away from the sex tousled duo. They ignored him and continued exchanging calf-eyes.
“Doesn’t anyone remember that there’s an apocalypse going on?”
Author:
ladyyuehRecipient:
mummyluvr314Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 4x22
Warnings: Slightly cracky.
Word Count: ~2100
Notes/Prompt: “Dean's been cursed with confidence, and decides that he's finally going to go after his angel. After all, Dean's irresistible.” Sorry but I couldn’t really manage any angst, but I hope you enjoy the humor. For the 2009 Secret Angels Exchange
Summary: Sam knows there's something wrong with Dean
----
Sam awoke to the sound of humming.
He experienced a surreal moment of dissonance at an action that was so normal it drove right into the state of disturbing like it lived there. People shouldn’t be humming when there was a freaking apocalypse going on. Especially not when he was the one who’d kicked off the whole fucking event.
Yeah, okay, skeezy angel-dicks had a big part of the blame, but in the end it had been his own fucking hubris which had pretty much screwed the world.
While he wallowed in self-pity and angst, Dean—because who else could it possibly be, he’d recognize Dean anywhere in any state—was still humming and the action had, in fact, increased in both volume and cheer.
Sam wondered what hell the new day held for them and was certain he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t exactly stay in bed for the duration of the apocalypse. Well, he could, but he doubted Lucifer was the kind of guy who’d respect the fact that a man was in bed.
Sam finally decided to bite the bullet and sat up in bed. “Dean? Are you humming? ‘Come on get happy’?” He had to ask and verify that the occurrence wasn’t just another hallucination.
Dean stopped humming and grinned. He grinned that cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the toughest shit you’ve ever seen and you know you love me’ grin that had always made Sam want to pop him one. The grin he hadn’t worn with sincerity since long before he’d made that crossroads deal.
First, Sam had the fleeting and deluded hope that the past four years had only been a nightmare. He discarded that thought as way too optimistic for their lives and wondered whether they’d fallen down the fucking rabbit hole or something. With their lives, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.
“What’s with the frown, Sammy? Apocalypse gotcha down? Come on, stop being such a chick. I got this.” Dean assured him before launching into an ear drum bursting rendition of “We Will Rock You.”
And like that, Sam knew something was very very wrong.
----
Dean knew that he should frown or sigh in exasperation at the look on Sam’s face, but the kid was harshing his buzz. Sure the Apocalypse was nigh, Lucifer was out and about, and all that shit, but that wasn’t a reason to be a total killjoy.
“Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam asked and Dean could detect the worry that was buried under the harsh aggression.
This time Dean did frown. “Wrong with me? Sammy, there’s nothing wrong with me. I feel awesome. If anything, I think we should get you looked at.”
“You were humming!” Sam accused, as if the action were on par with drinking demon blood or something.
“Ye-ah, I was. That’s what people do when they’re in a good mood. Are you seriously freaking out on me because of a little good cheer? Or are you just jealous of my powerful vocals?”
Sam stared at him warily, as if Dean was possessed or he’d finally slipped his lid. “I’m calling Bobby,” Sam announced and then tensed, ready for some sort of attack to prevent him from doing so.
“You do that, Sammy. I need to tell him how whacked out you’re acting.” Dean tossed Sam his cell and Sam dialed without taking his eyes from Dean.
Dean rolled his eyes before he threw himself into an unconcerned sprawl onto his still rumpled bed.
“Bobby, something’s wrong with Dean!” was the first thing out of Sam’s mouth.
Dean watched with amusement as Sam backtracked quickly. “No, he’s not hurt. Yeah, he still has his soul. No, Lucifer hasn’t kidnapped him and made him his bitch.”
Dean snickered. Bobby was awesome. He couldn’t help the roar of laughter that escaped him when he heard Bobby’s bellowing response.
“Boy, unless you’re bleeding and about to leave this mortal coil you can damn well use whatever manners have managed to soak into your fool head. Now, what’s wrong with your brother? Is that idjit laughing?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Bobby. Dean’s been acting weird.”
“It’s the godforsaken apocalypse, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t acting odd.”
“Bobby, he was humming,” Sam hissed as he confessed the information.
There was a moment of silence as Sam waited for a response and then his jaw dropped slightly with surprise. “He hung up on me,” Sam said in a high-pitched voice full of betrayal.
“And I didn’t even get to tell him about how paranoid and nutso you’re being,” Dean joked.
Sam narrowed his eyes and got his bitch face on. Dean managed not to smile and reigned in the urge to ruffle his man-bitch brother’s hair.
“You’re supposed to be paranoid and twitchy when the fucking apocalypse is on your doorstep, Dean. You’re not meant to burst into song!”
“Well, excuse me for trying to keep positive.”
“Oh, that is it. Something is definitely wrong with you. CASTIEL!”
Dean smirked when, after a long period of expectant silence, nothing happened. “Cas is my angel, Sammy. He’s not going to come running when you call.”
Sam felt like he really had just stepped into the Twilight Zone. Maybe the Trickster had decided to pay them a visit for being such dour assholes? “Did you just call him your angel?” Clearly, he was hearing things, but it didn’t do any harm to make sure.
Dean shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, he doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll come around. I have it all planned out.”
Sam decided that he was too sane for this conversation.
Castiel decided that was the perfect time to show up.
Sam knew he probably looked like a gaping idiot, but what was he supposed to do when Dean stood and swaggered into Castiel’s personal space with his special ‘I’m so sexy, look at my crotch’ walk and that look on his face that said he was on the prowl for prey that would soon be begging for it. He supposed he could spork his eyes out.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean drawled in a low, husky voice paired with lidded and very suggestive eyes. Sam couldn’t ignore or deny it, those were some of Dean’s big guns; to be used in the event that Dean was trying to wriggle into someone’s pants.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answered. Was it Sam’s imagination or was Castiel staring at Dean more intensely than usual?
“Sam, didn’t you say you had somewhere else to be.” What should have been a question was so very obviously an order to scram. Sam would have actually loved to oblige except for the fact that he was pretty sure his brother planned to seduce an angel.
“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked without taking his gaze away from Dean.
Sam watched with horror as Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder and seriously delivered the line, “Nothing’s wrong—at least, not now that you’re here.”
Dean moved his intense stare from Castiel’s eyes to a lower area and Sam had the sinking feeling that he’d be tonguing Castiel if Sam weren’t in the room—actually, he seemed to be leaning…
“THAT!” Sam shouted, startling both of them visibly and averting any kind of lip action. Had they just forgotten he was here? “Dean isn’t acting like himself. He’s—”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Dean assured them as he practically draped himself over the angel.
Castiel finally looked like he was getting with the program.
Dean looked like he was ready to get lucky as he wrapped himself around Castiel and started sucking face.
Sam covered his eyes quickly, like the little kids that believed things ceased to exist if they couldn’t see them. He really wished that were so because he could still hear things; wet, sucking noises that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but lewd.
The voice of self-preservation spoke up then. He’d told Castiel something was wrong and now the angel had proof of it. It wasn’t like Dean could actually take advantage of Castiel because the guy was an angel with divine powers and super-human strength. There really was no reason for Sam to be here unless he wanted to be scarred for the rest of what was going to probably be a very short and violent life.
Sam struggled out of bed and risked a peek to find the keys to the Impala. Ignoring his disheveled state of dress, he rushed to the door and left the occupants with a final order, “Fix him, Castiel!”
----
Dean reluctantly pulled away from kissing Cas to take a breath, but he didn’t go far as he nuzzled and nibbled his way along the angel’s jaw. “Mmmm, so good, Cas,” he crooned into Cas’s ear, and felt smug and satisfied when he felt Cas shiver in his arms.
It really was a good thing Sam had finally gotten a clue by four and left them alone. If he’d known a kiss was all it took he’d have done it sooner instead of trying for that sappy clichéd stuff to run him off to puke.
“Dean,” Cas murmured and this time it was Dean’s turn to tremble and go kind of weak at the knees.
Dean went in to continue their kiss and lead it into something involving a bed and lots of sweat, but Cas’s hand took a hold of his chin and he couldn’t win against angelic strength.
Cas stared at him and Dean smiled in response, preened under the attention, and enjoyed the ‘just kissed’ look Cas was sporting.
“You’re under a spell,” Cas noted with a small hint of surprise.
“I know,” Dean said as he wriggled his lower body in an attempt to get closer, to arouse and tempt his angel into the delicious sin of carnality.
“You—that is why I could not sense it without looking deeper,” Castiel spoke as the realization dawned on him. “You cast the spell on yourself.”
“Yup. Now that that’s cleared up, I think we should have sex. Lots and lots of sex. We should fuck until I can’t walk. That sound good to you?” Dean asked as he flicked his tongue out to suggestively glide along Cas’s index finger.
“Why are you doing this?” Castiel looked serious and unemotional, but Dean could see how his eyes kept dropping to Dean’s mouth. “Nothing will happen until you tell me,” Castiel added in that resolved ‘you’ll do what I say or I’ll toss you back into the pit’ voice, which had kind of become a huge turn on. Apparently, a lot of the things Cas did now did it for Dean. It was sort of awesome.
Dean pouted and went limp against Castiel. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“What spell have you cast and why, Dean?”
“Nothing big, Cas. But you know how fucked up I am about hell and I can’t let that shit mess with my head if I’m gonna to be going up against Lucifer. So, I gave myself a boost of confidence and a pinch of positive attitude and you have the recipe for one fantastic, ass-kicking Dean Winchester.”
Castiel frowned. “That wasn’t a wise decision. Did you also add some sexual supplement?”
Dean glared. “I am not taking Viagra! A guy gets a little happy and wants to fool around with his angel and he gets nothing but cock-eyed looks. You really don’t want to sleep with me?” Dean asked with disappointment.
“I—it would not be prudent, Dean. You’re under an enchantment and I would simply be taking advantage. Clearly, there were some unexpected side effects or you would not be acting this way.” Castiel looked determined and staunch; the perfect, unemotional, angelic soldier.
“I think you’re lying,” Dean asserted with certainty. “The things I want haven’t changed it’s just that I’m willing to go after them now. I want this. I want you.”
“I won’t be used for sexual gratification,” Castiel warned him.
“And if it were for more?” Dean asked seriously.
Castiel paused, momentarily surprised, before the angelic power and energy he wielded filled the room and ratcheted the intensity up to scorching. “Then it would be forever.”
“I can live with that,” Dean declared.
This time, Castiel kissed him.
Oh yeah, I’m awesome.
----
Sam stared, willing the hallucination to disperse. No such luck. “I need a spork,” he muttered as he looked away from the sex tousled duo. They ignored him and continued exchanging calf-eyes.
“Doesn’t anyone remember that there’s an apocalypse going on?”
