fic: SPN: Thousand Watts (1/1, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLIES_DRAGON!!!)
Title: Thousand Watts
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel if you squint
Words: 753
Rating: PG13
Note: A really, really late gift for charlies_dragon's birthday. She requested happy Dean, and with a smile like his, that ought to make anyone's birthday! Hope you enjoy it hon, and I'm so sorry it's taken so long... Set during season 4, no specific spoilers.
Summary: Dean realizes maybe not everything sucks as much as he thought it did. Sort of.
Coming back from hell ain't all it's cracked up to be. If he'd imagined Sammy bringing him back (not that he ever dared to hope, his brother had to be smarter than that, didn't he?), Dean would have imagined things going back to the way they were before he died. Or if he was lucky, the way things were before Sam died.
But who knew there were angels involved? That the Devil, with the capital D and the pitchfork and everything, was actually real? And that bitch Ruby...
So it surprises him to realize he's smiling. A brief, shining moment of actual happiness had crept up on him. And what's more? It ain't the first time it's happened. He just hasn't been paying attention.
Cos seriously, if there's anyone he'd expect to pull it off? It sure as H-E-double hockey sticks wasn't Cas.
The first time it was pie. Strawberry rhubarb pie, fresh and steaming hot, with home churned vanilla ice cream on the plate alongside it. Dean still doesn't know where the angel got it from, though to be honest, it barely occurred to him to ask. Dean had grinned a little, still worried about where Sammy was (or rather, where he wasn't) and all but inhaled it.
Next it was his car. Which, granted, nearly gave him a heart attack first. No one touches his baby (these days, not even Sam, unless he has to - goddamn iPod.) and the fact that Cas had done anything with the Impala, when he can't even understand Dean's devotion to it... Well. Things didn't turn out half so bad as Dean would expect. She was cleaned, roof to wheels, and gleaming with the best wax job she'd received … probably ever. Her oil was changed, the airfilter was new. Even the tires were rotated and their pressure checked. Dean nearly fell over himself, hands waving wildly as he shouted at Castiel. But he had smiled nonetheless.
Then there was more pie involved. (What can Dean say, some days, he's easy.) If he'd known what the angel was up to, he would have clapped him on the shoulder and with a straight face (ok, straight as possible) asked him to hook him up with a girl or three instead. At once. Of course Castiel would never have gone for it, but the look on his face would totally have been worth it.
And strangely enough, Cas started trying to use humor. Not the cynical stuff he used when talking about the end of the world, all thin and worn and trying to make the best of a bad situation. No. The angel tried to tell jokes. It didn't particularly work out so well. Left Sammy banging his head into the dashboard a few times, but hey, that was funny in and of itself. Dean couldn't help the little pull at the corner of his mouth, the soft chuckle that half bubbled in his throat. It was like listening to a little kid tell jokes. And getting them wrong.
And today? Well... Maybe Dean shouldn't be surprised the angel knew. Or that he somehow convinced Sam he shouldn't disappear. Cos today, it just about feels like before he died, with the added bonus of an angel. The motel room's done up with cheap-ass streamers from the 99 Cents store down the block, and the table has a small collection of things wrapped up in newspaper. He can tell with barely a glance that it's going to be something from Technron and beer, and maybe some girl mags rolled up around some Slim Jims. There's a pizza pie, steaming hot, and a cake.
An honest to god birthday cake. With colored frosting spelling out his name and a candle shaped like a number and everything. Granted, the number is 4, but it's the thought that counts.
Castiel and Sam sing happy birthday horribly out of tune, clap him on the shoulder and drag him in. Give him a shot of whiskey and make him blow out his candle before digging in to the food. Well, except for Castiel, who still can't seem to understand that food is enjoyable. Dean talks him into eating most of a piece of cake.
The look on his face is priceless.
So yeah. Life after hell is... well. Hell, figuratively speaking. It's hard and it sucks a lot more than he'd have wanted it to. But right now? Right here? You couldn't wipe the smile off Dean's face if you punched him.
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel if you squint
Words: 753
Rating: PG13
Note: A really, really late gift for charlies_dragon's birthday. She requested happy Dean, and with a smile like his, that ought to make anyone's birthday! Hope you enjoy it hon, and I'm so sorry it's taken so long... Set during season 4, no specific spoilers.
Summary: Dean realizes maybe not everything sucks as much as he thought it did. Sort of.
Coming back from hell ain't all it's cracked up to be. If he'd imagined Sammy bringing him back (not that he ever dared to hope, his brother had to be smarter than that, didn't he?), Dean would have imagined things going back to the way they were before he died. Or if he was lucky, the way things were before Sam died.
But who knew there were angels involved? That the Devil, with the capital D and the pitchfork and everything, was actually real? And that bitch Ruby...
So it surprises him to realize he's smiling. A brief, shining moment of actual happiness had crept up on him. And what's more? It ain't the first time it's happened. He just hasn't been paying attention.
Cos seriously, if there's anyone he'd expect to pull it off? It sure as H-E-double hockey sticks wasn't Cas.
The first time it was pie. Strawberry rhubarb pie, fresh and steaming hot, with home churned vanilla ice cream on the plate alongside it. Dean still doesn't know where the angel got it from, though to be honest, it barely occurred to him to ask. Dean had grinned a little, still worried about where Sammy was (or rather, where he wasn't) and all but inhaled it.
Next it was his car. Which, granted, nearly gave him a heart attack first. No one touches his baby (these days, not even Sam, unless he has to - goddamn iPod.) and the fact that Cas had done anything with the Impala, when he can't even understand Dean's devotion to it... Well. Things didn't turn out half so bad as Dean would expect. She was cleaned, roof to wheels, and gleaming with the best wax job she'd received … probably ever. Her oil was changed, the airfilter was new. Even the tires were rotated and their pressure checked. Dean nearly fell over himself, hands waving wildly as he shouted at Castiel. But he had smiled nonetheless.
Then there was more pie involved. (What can Dean say, some days, he's easy.) If he'd known what the angel was up to, he would have clapped him on the shoulder and with a straight face (ok, straight as possible) asked him to hook him up with a girl or three instead. At once. Of course Castiel would never have gone for it, but the look on his face would totally have been worth it.
And strangely enough, Cas started trying to use humor. Not the cynical stuff he used when talking about the end of the world, all thin and worn and trying to make the best of a bad situation. No. The angel tried to tell jokes. It didn't particularly work out so well. Left Sammy banging his head into the dashboard a few times, but hey, that was funny in and of itself. Dean couldn't help the little pull at the corner of his mouth, the soft chuckle that half bubbled in his throat. It was like listening to a little kid tell jokes. And getting them wrong.
And today? Well... Maybe Dean shouldn't be surprised the angel knew. Or that he somehow convinced Sam he shouldn't disappear. Cos today, it just about feels like before he died, with the added bonus of an angel. The motel room's done up with cheap-ass streamers from the 99 Cents store down the block, and the table has a small collection of things wrapped up in newspaper. He can tell with barely a glance that it's going to be something from Technron and beer, and maybe some girl mags rolled up around some Slim Jims. There's a pizza pie, steaming hot, and a cake.
An honest to god birthday cake. With colored frosting spelling out his name and a candle shaped like a number and everything. Granted, the number is 4, but it's the thought that counts.
Castiel and Sam sing happy birthday horribly out of tune, clap him on the shoulder and drag him in. Give him a shot of whiskey and make him blow out his candle before digging in to the food. Well, except for Castiel, who still can't seem to understand that food is enjoyable. Dean talks him into eating most of a piece of cake.
The look on his face is priceless.
So yeah. Life after hell is... well. Hell, figuratively speaking. It's hard and it sucks a lot more than he'd have wanted it to. But right now? Right here? You couldn't wipe the smile off Dean's face if you punched him.