Metaphysical Goo Rocks
Title: Metaphysical Goo Rocks
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Warnings/Spoilers: Know who Gabriel is? Then you're good.
Summary: Having two uninhibited people in one room was making for some really very interesting situations.
Notes: Originally written for a prompt at comment_fic.
Having two uninhibited people in one room was making for some really very interesting situations, Dean decided, keeping one eye on Castiel and Sam and the other on the laptop as he tried to figure out a way to reverse the effects.
For one thing, Castiel had discovered the art of dressing and undressing and was currently engaged in pulling his pants on and off, complete with running commentary on how odd it all was. Sam was back in the corner by the bathroom and Dean wasn’t looking there too closely, because he was pretty sure there was a douche-nozzle archangel between Sam and the wall.
And really, if he’d known that the metaphysical goo was going to have this sort of effect, he’d have jumped in the way of it himself. Not like he really had many inhibitions to start with, anyway. As it was, though, his brother and Castiel had taken the full force of the blast. Dean had hosed them down, but the effects apparently lasted long after contact.
“I do not see how a page on unicorns is helping, Dean,” Castiel says over his shoulder, apparently finished with his clothes. Dean jumps.
‘Uh, it doesn’t,” he says, clicking out of the tab. Damn Wikipedia. “Uh, what are you-”
“I lost interest in the articles of clothing. I was more interested in finding out if your hair is as soft as it looks. May I touch it? Oh, it is soft,” Castiel falls silent for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly through Dean’s hair and Dean just blinks. Then the fact that the only sounds in the room are the faint whirr of the laptop fan and rhythmic thuds from over by the bathroom breaks through and he leans away.
“Cas. Cas!”
“Dean, Dean,” the angel parrots. “May I touch your hair again? It is very soft. Does the rest of your hair feel like that? Mine doesn’t, but you are not me and I’d really like the opportunity to find out. I heard two humans the other day say something about getting into pants and from the context I can only assume it was a sexual euphemism, but I’m not sure what clothing really has to do with sexual encounters, as the act itself is best done without them and-”
“Castiel,” Dean interrupts. Blue eyes blink.
“Yes, Dean?” the angel asks and-thank God-doesn’t say anything more.
“Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” he suggests, yanking his head towards the door and painfully aware that things have just escalated by the bathroom since-oh, God, his eyes-there is now a pair of legs wrapped around Sam’s waist.
“Why would we-oh, you are worried about Sam and Gabriel? They are copulating, I am certain you are aware of that and mmphf mm murmph.”
Dean holds his hand over Castiel’s mouth until the angel stops trying to talk. “We’re getting out of here. Take us somewhere, anywhere, I don’t care, just get me away,” he demands.
Castiel grins-wide open and free and Dean thinks that maybe he’ll try to find ways other than metaphysical goo to see that again-and puts two fingers to Dean’s temple and the motel room dissolves around them. Another room takes its place, looking almost the same except for the lack of motion by the bathroom.
“Is this acceptable, Dean? I have a question regarding certain matters. Can I ride your disco stick?”
Dean gapes, then sighs. “Whatever,” he grumbles and maybe it’s the metaphysical goo or maybe he’d just been doomed from the start, but he lets Castiel take the next hour to touch and verbally describe pretty much every single hair on his body.
Then his ‘disco stick’ is declared to be much better than even his soft hair and really, there’s not much he can say against that.
Except maybe that metaphysical goo rocks.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Warnings/Spoilers: Know who Gabriel is? Then you're good.
Summary: Having two uninhibited people in one room was making for some really very interesting situations.
Notes: Originally written for a prompt at comment_fic.
Having two uninhibited people in one room was making for some really very interesting situations, Dean decided, keeping one eye on Castiel and Sam and the other on the laptop as he tried to figure out a way to reverse the effects.
For one thing, Castiel had discovered the art of dressing and undressing and was currently engaged in pulling his pants on and off, complete with running commentary on how odd it all was. Sam was back in the corner by the bathroom and Dean wasn’t looking there too closely, because he was pretty sure there was a douche-nozzle archangel between Sam and the wall.
And really, if he’d known that the metaphysical goo was going to have this sort of effect, he’d have jumped in the way of it himself. Not like he really had many inhibitions to start with, anyway. As it was, though, his brother and Castiel had taken the full force of the blast. Dean had hosed them down, but the effects apparently lasted long after contact.
“I do not see how a page on unicorns is helping, Dean,” Castiel says over his shoulder, apparently finished with his clothes. Dean jumps.
‘Uh, it doesn’t,” he says, clicking out of the tab. Damn Wikipedia. “Uh, what are you-”
“I lost interest in the articles of clothing. I was more interested in finding out if your hair is as soft as it looks. May I touch it? Oh, it is soft,” Castiel falls silent for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly through Dean’s hair and Dean just blinks. Then the fact that the only sounds in the room are the faint whirr of the laptop fan and rhythmic thuds from over by the bathroom breaks through and he leans away.
“Cas. Cas!”
“Dean, Dean,” the angel parrots. “May I touch your hair again? It is very soft. Does the rest of your hair feel like that? Mine doesn’t, but you are not me and I’d really like the opportunity to find out. I heard two humans the other day say something about getting into pants and from the context I can only assume it was a sexual euphemism, but I’m not sure what clothing really has to do with sexual encounters, as the act itself is best done without them and-”
“Castiel,” Dean interrupts. Blue eyes blink.
“Yes, Dean?” the angel asks and-thank God-doesn’t say anything more.
“Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” he suggests, yanking his head towards the door and painfully aware that things have just escalated by the bathroom since-oh, God, his eyes-there is now a pair of legs wrapped around Sam’s waist.
“Why would we-oh, you are worried about Sam and Gabriel? They are copulating, I am certain you are aware of that and mmphf mm murmph.”
Dean holds his hand over Castiel’s mouth until the angel stops trying to talk. “We’re getting out of here. Take us somewhere, anywhere, I don’t care, just get me away,” he demands.
Castiel grins-wide open and free and Dean thinks that maybe he’ll try to find ways other than metaphysical goo to see that again-and puts two fingers to Dean’s temple and the motel room dissolves around them. Another room takes its place, looking almost the same except for the lack of motion by the bathroom.
“Is this acceptable, Dean? I have a question regarding certain matters. Can I ride your disco stick?”
Dean gapes, then sighs. “Whatever,” he grumbles and maybe it’s the metaphysical goo or maybe he’d just been doomed from the start, but he lets Castiel take the next hour to touch and verbally describe pretty much every single hair on his body.
Then his ‘disco stick’ is declared to be much better than even his soft hair and really, there’s not much he can say against that.
Except maybe that metaphysical goo rocks.