Fic: Why the Driver Shouldn't Pick the Music
Title: Why the Driver Shouldn't Pick the Music
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: 7x06; also 7x01 and 7x02 technically
Word Count: 940
Warnings: humerous fluffy drabble
Rating: PG (treading the edge of PG-13 for language maybe?)
Author’s Note: Just a cracky short to relay my version of what happens down the road when (WHEN, NOT IF) the Winchesters get Cas back. ;D
EDIT: Now betaed by my awesome lefty_spit
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you-
Sam stifled a groan, reaching for the power button on the radio. He froze though at the loud throat-clearing coming from the driver’s seat. When he looked up in exasperation, he was met with green eyes narrowed in warning that clearly promised a beat down if Sam’s fingers lingered on the dial beyond the next few seconds. Sam ignored it, flipping the radio off while matching Dean’s stare daringly. It was immediately turned back on, the hand used in activation continuing outward to slug Sam’s bicep heavily.
-were right, believing for so long. I’m all out of love-
“Ow!” he hissed, prodding the tender flesh of his upper arm gingerly. Dean held up a single index finger in a ‘you asked for it, bitch, don’t make me do it again’ gesture, his lips pursed in John Winchester seriousness. The youngest Winchester passed a well rehearsed bitchface across the car’s cabin and slumped back into his seat with a huff. “You seriously suck,” Sam grumbled under his breath, cursing his bad luck to be stuck in the car with this freaking song for the second time in the same year.
What am I without you, I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong.
“I like this song,” Castiel announced suddenly from the previously silent backseat. Dean’s eyes flashed immediately to the rear view mirror and stayed glued there as Sam snorted and twisted around to raise an eyebrow of disbelief at the angel.
“Cas, how do you even know what this is? More importantly, why do you like this crap?” he scoffed, his tone berating and perhaps more judgemental than it should have been, but to be fair, Sam was starting to get annoyed at having to battle 80’s pop-ballads at such an alarming frequency.
The fallen angel frowned and cocked his head to the characteristic angle. “It’s wistful and melancholy. I find it easy to relate to the regret expressed by the artist’s choice of words,” he said rather defensively, as if Sam ought to have known such a thing.
And then all three members of Team Free Will went crashing into the metal ceiling as Dean’s foot slammed down on the breaks without warning. Sam managed to prevent his face from smacking into the dashboard by throwing out his hands at the very last second. As it was, he still got a laptop to the chin and his knees knocked together painfully as the Impala squealed to a gravelly halt.
“...the hell, Dean?” he sputtered angrily, a couple of fingers rubbing at his throbbing chin in shock.
“Get out of the car, Cas.” It was an order, not a request.
“Dude-”
“Dean-”
“GET OUT OF THE GODDAMN CAR.” Dean had already jammed the car in park, thrown open his door and was shoving his way out, leaving Castiel little time to do more then blink in confusion before complying.
Sam followed both departures, his jaw gaping and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. He made a weak noise of dismay, but it went completely unheeded. “What is happening?” he mumbled out loud, wondering if Castiel was about to be slugged as well. It would be well overdue, now that Sam thought about it; Dean had been understandably aloof and distant toward the angel ever since they’d managed to free him from the Leviathans and were trying to move on from the whole ‘ultimate betrayal’ fiasco. Still, Cas had sacrificed his ability to ever return home in order to return to them (to Dean), and the part of Sam who’d personally forgiven him hoped his brother wouldn’t rough him up too badly just for voicing his opinion on a wimpy love song.
Sam was jolted from his thoughts however, when Castiel’s back came flying backward to fill the Impala’s back door window. The impact was hard enough to rock the car and Sam let out an unmanly yelp, though Air Supply continued to warble unheeded. It took Sam a good long minute, complete with concentrated frowning and squinting eyes to realize that Dean was not tackling Castiel against the car.
No, that was kissing - full on, open-mouthed, face sucking. The kind of making out that’s hungry and desperate and disgustingly wet and loud. Dean was attacking Cas’ mouth like a starving man, his hands buried a mile deep in dark hair and using it to roughly maneuver the angel’s head into a position more easily accommodating to his plundering tongue. Castiel’s hands were skimming everywhere at once over Dean’s shoulders and back, scrabbling for purchase as Dean ground him into the cold metal of the Impala.
“What is happening?!” Sam repeated, his face drawn up tight in exasperation. He gestured wildly to the empty car, as if the Impala might offer some answers. “This song is NOT that good!”
And suddenly, with a puff of displaced air from invisible wings, Dean and Castiel disappeared from sight, leaving a very vexed Sam to glare at the space they’d just occupied. He tossed the laptop into the backseat pissily, muttering to himself and shaking his head for the entire crawl over into the driver’s seat. “Fucking ridiculous,” Sam spat, forcefully cutting off Air Supply’s chorus midstream. “I can’t believe I’m the only one who doesn’t pop a boner for 80’s music. Can’t even count on the damn angel to back me up anymore.” He slid the transmission into drive, begrudgingly following (to his best guess) the rest of his team to whatever closest shady motel they’d flown off to in order to consummate their years-long unrequited love affair.
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: 7x06; also 7x01 and 7x02 technically
Word Count: 940
Warnings: humerous fluffy drabble
Rating: PG (treading the edge of PG-13 for language maybe?)
Author’s Note: Just a cracky short to relay my version of what happens down the road when (WHEN, NOT IF) the Winchesters get Cas back. ;D
EDIT: Now betaed by my awesome lefty_spit
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you-
Sam stifled a groan, reaching for the power button on the radio. He froze though at the loud throat-clearing coming from the driver’s seat. When he looked up in exasperation, he was met with green eyes narrowed in warning that clearly promised a beat down if Sam’s fingers lingered on the dial beyond the next few seconds. Sam ignored it, flipping the radio off while matching Dean’s stare daringly. It was immediately turned back on, the hand used in activation continuing outward to slug Sam’s bicep heavily.
-were right, believing for so long. I’m all out of love-
“Ow!” he hissed, prodding the tender flesh of his upper arm gingerly. Dean held up a single index finger in a ‘you asked for it, bitch, don’t make me do it again’ gesture, his lips pursed in John Winchester seriousness. The youngest Winchester passed a well rehearsed bitchface across the car’s cabin and slumped back into his seat with a huff. “You seriously suck,” Sam grumbled under his breath, cursing his bad luck to be stuck in the car with this freaking song for the second time in the same year.
What am I without you, I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong.
“I like this song,” Castiel announced suddenly from the previously silent backseat. Dean’s eyes flashed immediately to the rear view mirror and stayed glued there as Sam snorted and twisted around to raise an eyebrow of disbelief at the angel.
“Cas, how do you even know what this is? More importantly, why do you like this crap?” he scoffed, his tone berating and perhaps more judgemental than it should have been, but to be fair, Sam was starting to get annoyed at having to battle 80’s pop-ballads at such an alarming frequency.
The fallen angel frowned and cocked his head to the characteristic angle. “It’s wistful and melancholy. I find it easy to relate to the regret expressed by the artist’s choice of words,” he said rather defensively, as if Sam ought to have known such a thing.
And then all three members of Team Free Will went crashing into the metal ceiling as Dean’s foot slammed down on the breaks without warning. Sam managed to prevent his face from smacking into the dashboard by throwing out his hands at the very last second. As it was, he still got a laptop to the chin and his knees knocked together painfully as the Impala squealed to a gravelly halt.
“...the hell, Dean?” he sputtered angrily, a couple of fingers rubbing at his throbbing chin in shock.
“Get out of the car, Cas.” It was an order, not a request.
“Dude-”
“Dean-”
“GET OUT OF THE GODDAMN CAR.” Dean had already jammed the car in park, thrown open his door and was shoving his way out, leaving Castiel little time to do more then blink in confusion before complying.
Sam followed both departures, his jaw gaping and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. He made a weak noise of dismay, but it went completely unheeded. “What is happening?” he mumbled out loud, wondering if Castiel was about to be slugged as well. It would be well overdue, now that Sam thought about it; Dean had been understandably aloof and distant toward the angel ever since they’d managed to free him from the Leviathans and were trying to move on from the whole ‘ultimate betrayal’ fiasco. Still, Cas had sacrificed his ability to ever return home in order to return to them (to Dean), and the part of Sam who’d personally forgiven him hoped his brother wouldn’t rough him up too badly just for voicing his opinion on a wimpy love song.
Sam was jolted from his thoughts however, when Castiel’s back came flying backward to fill the Impala’s back door window. The impact was hard enough to rock the car and Sam let out an unmanly yelp, though Air Supply continued to warble unheeded. It took Sam a good long minute, complete with concentrated frowning and squinting eyes to realize that Dean was not tackling Castiel against the car.
No, that was kissing - full on, open-mouthed, face sucking. The kind of making out that’s hungry and desperate and disgustingly wet and loud. Dean was attacking Cas’ mouth like a starving man, his hands buried a mile deep in dark hair and using it to roughly maneuver the angel’s head into a position more easily accommodating to his plundering tongue. Castiel’s hands were skimming everywhere at once over Dean’s shoulders and back, scrabbling for purchase as Dean ground him into the cold metal of the Impala.
“What is happening?!” Sam repeated, his face drawn up tight in exasperation. He gestured wildly to the empty car, as if the Impala might offer some answers. “This song is NOT that good!”
And suddenly, with a puff of displaced air from invisible wings, Dean and Castiel disappeared from sight, leaving a very vexed Sam to glare at the space they’d just occupied. He tossed the laptop into the backseat pissily, muttering to himself and shaking his head for the entire crawl over into the driver’s seat. “Fucking ridiculous,” Sam spat, forcefully cutting off Air Supply’s chorus midstream. “I can’t believe I’m the only one who doesn’t pop a boner for 80’s music. Can’t even count on the damn angel to back me up anymore.” He slid the transmission into drive, begrudgingly following (to his best guess) the rest of his team to whatever closest shady motel they’d flown off to in order to consummate their years-long unrequited love affair.