tabaqui | Fic! 'Cause i'm in a funny mood... 'No Sense At All'

Fic! 'Cause i'm in a funny mood... 'No Sense At All'

Monday, November 24th, 2008 09:44 pm

And 'cause of teh angst! We go into hiatus on a note of pure man!pain and angst and a lot of the fic lately is reflecting that. Not that it's *bad* fic, i just wanted something a little more lighthearted.

Inspired by

eighth_horizon's wonderful 90 Proof series.

Beta'd, of course, by

darkhavens. And you know

sweptawaybayou had a finger in there, too. :)

I tossed in a couple of movie refs/quotes - internet cookie for anybody who notices!
*twirls you all*

"You kissed her," Castiel says, and Dean gives him a little sideways, squinty look.

"That's what you do with pretty girls."

"She wasn't a girl."

"Sure she was. Right up until she...wasn't." Dean waves his hand around in a gesture that's obviously supposed to mean something and Castiel just watches him. "Look, she wanted it, who was I to say no? She knew she wasn't...gonna be around." Dean's voice hitches a little and Castiel wonders what that means.

"She was...troubled."

Dean gives him another sideways glance, looking like he might be pissed off now. "I didn't make her –"

"No. But you could have said no."

"Dude." Dean gives him a third look, eyebrows scrunched and mouth twisted and Castiel...doesn't know. He just doesn’t know. Anna was right.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yes, little brotha?" Dean says in his best 'Gale Snoats' voice.

"Have you noticed Castiel acting kinda...weird, lately?"

"Define 'weird', Sam." Dean squints down the length of a shotgun barrel and then lowers it again, reaching for the cleaning rags.

"I dunno, he just...he's always...staring at you."

"Well – can you blame him? Huh?" Dean strikes a pose and Sam shakes his head, rolling his eyes a little.

"Seriously, Dean, he just...it's weird."

"He's weird. C'mon, Sam, he said he hadn't been down here for like – two thousand years. He probably can't figure out why he pops a boner every time he sees a pretty girl."

"Jesus." Sam hunches back down over the laptop, mousing furiously for a moment. "It freaks me out," he mutters, and Dean sighs.

"I'll be sure and tell him eyes front and center next time, okay? He's an angel. He's not supposed to be like us."

Sam snorts out a laugh, sitting up and stretching, arms over his head. "You'd make the worst angel ever. Farting, cursing, perving on everything in a skirt...."

"Maybe if angels were more like me, they'd be more awesome." Dean snaps the shotgun closed and tosses down the rag. "I'm hungry. Let's get a taco."

"So, the deal is, the seal is this book?"

"The ritual in the book is the seal. The book must be destroyed. Annihilated."

"Got that covered," Dean says, brandishing his made-from-propane-tank flame thrower.

"The book is guarded by a...being." Castiel is staring intently at Dean's hands, curved around the tank – at the way he smoothes the duct tape and adjusts the nozzle. Sam gives Dean a look that says 'see? staring.' Dean sighs and gives Sam his own look, that basically says 'shut it, freak.'

"What kind of being?"

"A guardian. It will take much to defeat it."

Castiel is staring, damnit. Dean sets the tank down with a little thump and crooks a finger at the angel. Castiel stares at it. "Oh for fuck's sake!" Dean grabs a handful of the ratty trench coat and tugs Castiel to one side, ignoring Sam's little snicker.

"Dean –"

"Listen, Cas – is there some problem I need to know about? Some...thing?" Dean waves his hands. "Something going on with you?"

"Thing? There is no...thing."

Dean reaches out and snaps his fingers in front of Castiel's face. Castiel blinks. "Whoo hoo, space cadet! My eyes? Are up here. Wanna focus?"

"We need to go. Time is of the essence."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Dean looks over Cas' head at Sam, who is sitting with his face buried in his hands. "Sam!"

"What?" Sam jumps, straightening – spreads his hands in a 'who, me?' gesture, his mouth stretched wide in a grin, cheeks pink from suppressed laughter.

"We got books to burn, let's motor."

The guardian cries. Dean is more creeped out by it than he's willing to admit, and Sam has that tight-pinched look on his face, the one that means he's upset and needs to talk. Dean so does not want to 'talk'.

Instead, he drives them to the nearest bar and gets nachos, wings, and boilermakers. Sam looks disgruntled but tears into the nachos and Dean goes to wash book-ash off his fingers. While Dean is trying to get more than finger-tip sized bits of wet paper towel from the dispenser, Castiel looms out of the shadows.

"Dean –"

"Christ!" Dean jerks the whole dispenser right off the wall in startlement. "You really, really, really have to quit it with the showing up outta nowhere thing!" He kicks the dispenser and rubs his damp hands together. "I mean, Jesus!"

"I'm sorry." The angel doesn't look sorry at all. He looks – weird. Well, weirder. He looks rumpled and a little smudged – is that ash on his cheek? – and a little lost.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Bars aren't exactly angel hang-outs."

Castiel blinks and then looks down. "I am...troubled."

Dean waits. Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. "Oookay. You're...troubled. Troubled about what?"

"I'm troubled. As Anna was troubled. I'm...unsettled." Castiel looks up and yeah, that's ash. It makes his blue eyes really, really blue. And big. Big and blue and...troubled.

Jesus fuckin' Christ on a pogo stick. Castiel is staring very, very hard at Dean and Dean has a sudden flashback. "Look, she wanted it, who was I to say no? She knew she wasn't...gonna be around."

"She was...troubled." Oh.

"Oh. Oh, you mean...." Dean takes a few steps backward. "You're...uh –"

"Dean, I want to...know. How it felt. Feels. How it feels."

"How what feels?" Dean asks. He bumps into the sink and edges around it, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. If he can just get out, get back to Sam and the crowd...no way Cas'll try anything in public....

"How feeling....feels. I think – I think it's important, Dean." Castiel is matching Dean step for step and he suddenly does that annoying angel-ninja thing and is right there, right up in Dean's face. "I think –"

Castiel licks his lips and Dean mentally throws his hands in the air. "Jesus, fine, whatever." He reaches out and grabs two fistfuls of trench coat and pulls the angel close and kisses him. Not the church-lady-with-cookies kiss, or the that-was-fun-but-you-own-fifteen-cats kiss, but the oh-my-fucking-God-I-still-can't-feel-my-toes kiss. It takes a while.

The door slams open behind Dean and Dean twitches just a little. "Dean, what the – hell?"

Dean lets Castiel go and the angel blinks – reaches up one hand and touches his lips. "Oh."

Dean smirks. "Yeah. Oh. Get it now, Cas?"

"I...do. Yes."

"Jesus, Dean! What the hell are you doing?" Sam is looming like a pissed-off vulture, bar-be-que sauce on his chin and Dean chuckles, pushes around him and gives him a good, hard slap on the ass.

"Don't worry, baby – it was just between friends. You're still my girl."

"Yes, Sam." Castiel straightens his lapels and pushes a hand back through his hair. "You don't need to feel alarmed or...threatened. I was merely curious. I won't come between you."

"What? No, no, nonono. Dean - Dean! Come back here and tell him –"

"Wings're getting cold, little brotha," Dean says, and lets the bathroom door swing shut behind him. It's a good day.

Tags:

sense,
spn

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