The Red Pen of Doom
Title: The Red Pen of Doom
Rating: G
Pairings: None
Spoilers/WarningsL crack, use of Capital Letters.
Summary: Sam and Castiel both want the Red Pen of Doom.
Notes: Inspired by a Twitter conversation.
Castiel grabbed the Red Pen of Doom before Sam could, slipping it into a pocket on his trench coat.
Sam gaped for a moment. “Hey! You can’t have that!”
“Why not?” Castiel asked, expression neutral.
“Because! You already have the Trench Coat of Badassery, you can’t have the Red Pen of Doom, too! Dean, your angel’s not playing by the rules.”
Dean hefted the Traveling Shovel of Death up onto his shoulder and grinned at Castiel. “Cas, play nice. You can have one or the other, not both. Give Sam whichever one you don’t want.”
Castiel considered this for a moment, then removed the Red Pen of Doom from his pocket and slipped out of the Trench Coat of Badassery. The Coat was handed to Sam, who took it with a petulant expression.
“I wanted the Pen,” he grumbled, tugging the Trench Coat on. The Coat magically grew larger to accommodate his broad shoulders and unusual height and he smoothed his hands down the front of it.
“You do not have the knowledge to properly wield the Pen,” Castiel said. Sam’s bottom lip pushed out.
“What? I’m smart.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed, “but you do not have the complete knowledge that I, as an Angel of the Lord, have.”
“Oh.” Sam was quiet for a minute. “Alright, then. You can have the Pen.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
Dean swung the Shovel around to point at the angel and his brother. “Come on, girls. We’ve got Evil to fight!”
Castiel frowned at him. “You are wielding the Shovel improperly,” he said. “Here. Allow me to show you.” Before Dean could answer, the angel was already drawing thick red lines in midair, arrows and symbols indicating just how the Shovel was to be used. “Do you understand?”
The elder human considered the faintly glowing red marks for a moment. “Yeah, nope. Let’s just go kick demon ass, yeah?”
The angel sighed. “Very well, Dean.”
Sam turned to follow, reluctantly admiring the way the Trench Coat billowed behind him. “Definitely badass,” he murmured, a small smile on his face.
Rating: G
Pairings: None
Spoilers/WarningsL crack, use of Capital Letters.
Summary: Sam and Castiel both want the Red Pen of Doom.
Notes: Inspired by a Twitter conversation.
Castiel grabbed the Red Pen of Doom before Sam could, slipping it into a pocket on his trench coat.
Sam gaped for a moment. “Hey! You can’t have that!”
“Why not?” Castiel asked, expression neutral.
“Because! You already have the Trench Coat of Badassery, you can’t have the Red Pen of Doom, too! Dean, your angel’s not playing by the rules.”
Dean hefted the Traveling Shovel of Death up onto his shoulder and grinned at Castiel. “Cas, play nice. You can have one or the other, not both. Give Sam whichever one you don’t want.”
Castiel considered this for a moment, then removed the Red Pen of Doom from his pocket and slipped out of the Trench Coat of Badassery. The Coat was handed to Sam, who took it with a petulant expression.
“I wanted the Pen,” he grumbled, tugging the Trench Coat on. The Coat magically grew larger to accommodate his broad shoulders and unusual height and he smoothed his hands down the front of it.
“You do not have the knowledge to properly wield the Pen,” Castiel said. Sam’s bottom lip pushed out.
“What? I’m smart.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed, “but you do not have the complete knowledge that I, as an Angel of the Lord, have.”
“Oh.” Sam was quiet for a minute. “Alright, then. You can have the Pen.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
Dean swung the Shovel around to point at the angel and his brother. “Come on, girls. We’ve got Evil to fight!”
Castiel frowned at him. “You are wielding the Shovel improperly,” he said. “Here. Allow me to show you.” Before Dean could answer, the angel was already drawing thick red lines in midair, arrows and symbols indicating just how the Shovel was to be used. “Do you understand?”
The elder human considered the faintly glowing red marks for a moment. “Yeah, nope. Let’s just go kick demon ass, yeah?”
The angel sighed. “Very well, Dean.”
Sam turned to follow, reluctantly admiring the way the Trench Coat billowed behind him. “Definitely badass,” he murmured, a small smile on his face.