[FIC] Welcome to the Birefringent Fallout
Title: Welcome to the Birefringent Fallout
Author: phaelsafe
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Destiel, established relationship, robo!Sam, crack!fic
Spoilers: 6.07
Warnings: alcohol consumption
Word Count: ~1850
Summary: Dean's response to finding out that Sam is lacking his soul. (pseudo-coda)
AN: For this prompt contest. My word was camera. So sorry for writing this. It came out kinda weird and cracky.
The giggling. It doesn't seem like it will ever end.
Sam stares intently at the screen as though that will help him concentrate. Dean is giggling. Castiel is giggling; they have been at it for nearly two hours. Sweeping his hands through his hair, he finally speaks up. "Guys, seriously, are you trying to-"
"Yes," interrupts Castiel. "We are deliberately trying to annoy you." His words sound a little too sincere.
"Castiel!" Dean exclaims with mock indignation. Hearing the angel's full name from Dean's mouth is... really bizarre. Sam can see when his brother turns ridiculously shocked eyes toward Castiel out of the corner of his eye. "It's not polite to go around reading minds!" Dean says. He holds the horrified expression for all of five seconds before breaking into another round of snickering. Not long after, Castiel joins in.
When Castiel shoved his celestial fist of justice into Sam's chest and found that the younger hunter was lacking in the soul department, Dean had, of course, turned to his usual coping methods: alcohol. And lots of it.
There are glass whiskey and beer bottles everywhere. Apparently, the angel wasn't joking about needing the entire stock of a liquor store to get drunk. Sam doesn't care about where it's coming from or where Castiel is putting it all, really. Well, actually, he would like to know-
Ding.
Only two people were likely to text Sam this late at night, and one of them is quietly sitting less than ten feet away from him. Sam glances sideways again. Dean and Castiel are necking like teenagers now. Dean stretches up to whisper into the angel's ear, and Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes by snatching his smartphone from the table. As he switches it on and scrolls to the 'messages' menu, he feels Castiel's weighted gaze settle upon him.
Sighing, he looks back at the couple. "Shoving it down your pants," he starts while pressing fingers to his throbbing temple, "is not an appropriate way to use the camera on your phone, Dean."
His brother cranes awkwardly around to reply over his shoulder, "Aw, Sammy. Everyone's doing it these days. Taking pictures of your junk then sending them to family members has become the great American pastime!"
Rather than enable Dean and his drunken antics, Sam turns his attention back to the computer screen and clicks the next link of interest. The sound of a zipper being drawn down- well, he doesn't hear that, nor does he hear the hitch of Dean's breath.
"What? It's funny. Don't you think it's funny, Cas?" Dean asks, chuckling. He's starting to sound a little winded, and he tries to cover it up by taking a long swig from his beer.
Sam knows they're still watching him, waiting for him to react. He ignores them.
"Of course, Dean. Just last week I 'messaged'-" and Castiel supplies the applicable air quotes with his free hand, "-Raphael with a gratuitous shot of my, er," he pauses, and his eyes flick down to Dean. Dean just shrugs and shifts in such a way that has Castiel actually blushing. His eyes widen then jump back to meet Sam's, and the angel blurts out "profound boner!"
Miraculously, Dean manages to smother his laughter; although, he does let loose with a series of undignified snorts.
Sam blinks. He considers calling for hand check just to see how they respond.
"That's what caused the blackout across the Australian continent last week," Castiel says in an overly somber tone.
Sam straightens; he gets it now. They're trying to push his buttons in order to get an emotional response. Well, he can play this game. He stands up, rolling his head back and around his shoulders.
"So, are you warning me, suggesting I leave-" he asks, his hand trailing down to tap at his phone, "or inviting me to join in?" Under normal circumstances, the way Castiel is glowering at him should have been comical. He can only see the angel's dark, unruly hair and hostile blue eyes over the back of the couch.
The distressed reply that drifts up from Dean is lost somewhere in the angel's stomach as Castiel shifts further onto his knees.
A satisfied smirk spreads across Sam's lips, and he saunters over to the couch. Placing his hands on the cushion to either side of Dean's head, Sam leans in and traces his thumb around the outer curve of his brother's ear.
Startled by the touch, Dean jerks away, and Castiel curls his hands protectively around the other man's neck, intercepting any further attempts from Sam.
"You are busy with your research, and we are causing a distraction," Castiel says with a scowl. He leans into Sam's personal space and growls while Dean flails, pushing at the solid angel in an attempt to avoid being smothered. "Why don't you find a more accommodating locale where you can continue your work? There are several coffee shops in the area that are open late. Shall I send you to one?" he asks, his fingers targeting Sam's temple.
Sam darts back out of Castiel's reach. Inebriated angelic teleportation seems a bit... perilous, more of a risk than he is willing to take. Castiel has been surly, antagonistic even, ever since they discovered the cause of Sam's odd behavior. Not that he blames Castiel's lack of trust, but he doesn't want to- "Okay, okay. Fine, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone; but Cas, you're drunk, and I don't want to materialize, or whatever, inside solid rock somewhere." Sam isn't certain that the angel wouldn't do so on purpose....
Striding back to the table, Sam winds the cords up before he dumps his laptop into the case. He makes his way from the room under the angel's suspicious gaze and ignores distressed noises coming from his brother as he closes the door behind him. If Dean does suffocate, Castiel can just resurrect him.
When the door slams shut, Dean gasps as Castiel finally relaxes. "Dude, Cas. Still human; still need to breathe!"
A low, heady laugh twines out of Castiel as he leans down, his tongue playing at the seam of Dean's mouth before stealing his breath away again.
Castiel draws back, locking his eyes with those of the hunter beneath him, and he strokes his thumbs along Dean's cheeks, then lower, his fingertips fanning out along the length of Dean's collar bones.
Ding.
"Was that- Did Sam leave his phone here?" A noise of frustration escapes Castiel, and he clenches his hand in Dean's t-shirt as Dean throws an arm over the back of the chair and levers himself around to look. Sure enough, Sam's Blackberry is still sitting on the table. Dean's eyes light up and a devious smile curves his lips. "Cas, have you ever considered a career in modeling?"
"What does that-? Dean-"
But Dean is already shuffling him off despite the look of confusion Castiel directs his way. He chugs the remainder of his drink down, then grabs the angel by the hand and makes his way to the table.
The phone isn't a difficult piece of technology to figure out, but considering how much Dean has had to drink, it takes a few minutes of fiddling before he gets the camera working. He holds it aloft and angles it toward them. Just before he hears the snap of the shutter, Dean licks a long, wet line up Castiel's clenched jaw.
Click.
He checks the quality and grins, swiveling the LCD screen around to show the angel.
It's a little dark, but sure enough, there's Dean with his tongue sliding up Castiel's face. His own image is slightly blurred from turning toward the hunter, and Dean's green eyes gleam coyly out of the picture at him.
Muttering something about the lighting, Dean leads Castiel to the edge of the bed. "Time to get naked!" he announces playfully.
Castiel shrugs out of his coats and watches Dean wander from lamp to switch, flicking on the remaining light sources in the room. Apparently Dean had forgotten to zip his pants back up, and now they were sliding down his hips. "Dean." Castiel says. He toes off his shoes then starts in on his the knot of his tie. "Dean," he tries again. His fingers, still heavy from the liquor, fumble artlessly at the smooth fabric.
"Yup?" Dean asks before he returns, standing in front of Castiel. He quickly releases the knot without much difficulty and slides the tie from around Castiel's neck. "I guess unlike darts, you don't get better at removing bras and ties the more you drink!"
The tilt of Castiel's head implies that he doesn't understand the reference. "You are wearing too much clothing," he points out.
Dean just grins and shoves the angel down onto the bed.
~~~~~~
Sam comes tromping back in at six in the morning. The room is unusually dark, and the only available light spills in through the open door behind him. He smacks his shin against the nearest endtable sending several glass bottles clattering to the floor and breaking the silence.
The sound of rustling cloth sends him spinning around, ready for a fight, but it is only Castiel pulling the sheets over himself and Dean. The elder Winchester is sprawled out on his belly across Castiel; his face is pressed into the crook of the angel's neck. They don't look very comfortable, but Castiel has his arm wrapped possessively around Dean - the latter is out like a light.
"Some of us still require sleep, Sam," Castiel says. His words are cold and quiet.
Dean snorts and nuzzles into the shoulder he's using as a pillow.
Not asleep then. Sam shakes his head. "I forgot my phone. I figured you'd want me to call you before I head over to Samuel's. You know, later, when you're less hungover," he says as he grabs his Blackberry from the table.
Dean flings his arm up, his palm curling around the side of Castiel's neck. "Yeah, okay, just-" he 'hmms' as Castiel slides a hand over the scar on his shoulder "-quit making so much damn noise."
Not caring if he disturbs Dean, Castiel, the neighbors or even God, Sam slams the door for good measure on the way out.
"I saved those pictures in multiple folders. And locked each one. Sam is going to have to look at every picture before deleting it," Dean says, snickering. "Set his background to randomly rotate through, too."
~~~~~~
Ding.
Dean rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand. He has a text message from Sam.
I know where you sleep, Dean....
He smirks and replies back with: Pretty sure this means I win any and all prank wars in the near future by default.
Author: phaelsafe
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Destiel, established relationship, robo!Sam, crack!fic
Spoilers: 6.07
Warnings: alcohol consumption
Word Count: ~1850
Summary: Dean's response to finding out that Sam is lacking his soul. (pseudo-coda)
AN: For this prompt contest. My word was camera. So sorry for writing this. It came out kinda weird and cracky.
The giggling. It doesn't seem like it will ever end.
Sam stares intently at the screen as though that will help him concentrate. Dean is giggling. Castiel is giggling; they have been at it for nearly two hours. Sweeping his hands through his hair, he finally speaks up. "Guys, seriously, are you trying to-"
"Yes," interrupts Castiel. "We are deliberately trying to annoy you." His words sound a little too sincere.
"Castiel!" Dean exclaims with mock indignation. Hearing the angel's full name from Dean's mouth is... really bizarre. Sam can see when his brother turns ridiculously shocked eyes toward Castiel out of the corner of his eye. "It's not polite to go around reading minds!" Dean says. He holds the horrified expression for all of five seconds before breaking into another round of snickering. Not long after, Castiel joins in.
When Castiel shoved his celestial fist of justice into Sam's chest and found that the younger hunter was lacking in the soul department, Dean had, of course, turned to his usual coping methods: alcohol. And lots of it.
There are glass whiskey and beer bottles everywhere. Apparently, the angel wasn't joking about needing the entire stock of a liquor store to get drunk. Sam doesn't care about where it's coming from or where Castiel is putting it all, really. Well, actually, he would like to know-
Ding.
Only two people were likely to text Sam this late at night, and one of them is quietly sitting less than ten feet away from him. Sam glances sideways again. Dean and Castiel are necking like teenagers now. Dean stretches up to whisper into the angel's ear, and Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes by snatching his smartphone from the table. As he switches it on and scrolls to the 'messages' menu, he feels Castiel's weighted gaze settle upon him.
Sighing, he looks back at the couple. "Shoving it down your pants," he starts while pressing fingers to his throbbing temple, "is not an appropriate way to use the camera on your phone, Dean."
His brother cranes awkwardly around to reply over his shoulder, "Aw, Sammy. Everyone's doing it these days. Taking pictures of your junk then sending them to family members has become the great American pastime!"
Rather than enable Dean and his drunken antics, Sam turns his attention back to the computer screen and clicks the next link of interest. The sound of a zipper being drawn down- well, he doesn't hear that, nor does he hear the hitch of Dean's breath.
"What? It's funny. Don't you think it's funny, Cas?" Dean asks, chuckling. He's starting to sound a little winded, and he tries to cover it up by taking a long swig from his beer.
Sam knows they're still watching him, waiting for him to react. He ignores them.
"Of course, Dean. Just last week I 'messaged'-" and Castiel supplies the applicable air quotes with his free hand, "-Raphael with a gratuitous shot of my, er," he pauses, and his eyes flick down to Dean. Dean just shrugs and shifts in such a way that has Castiel actually blushing. His eyes widen then jump back to meet Sam's, and the angel blurts out "profound boner!"
Miraculously, Dean manages to smother his laughter; although, he does let loose with a series of undignified snorts.
Sam blinks. He considers calling for hand check just to see how they respond.
"That's what caused the blackout across the Australian continent last week," Castiel says in an overly somber tone.
Sam straightens; he gets it now. They're trying to push his buttons in order to get an emotional response. Well, he can play this game. He stands up, rolling his head back and around his shoulders.
"So, are you warning me, suggesting I leave-" he asks, his hand trailing down to tap at his phone, "or inviting me to join in?" Under normal circumstances, the way Castiel is glowering at him should have been comical. He can only see the angel's dark, unruly hair and hostile blue eyes over the back of the couch.
The distressed reply that drifts up from Dean is lost somewhere in the angel's stomach as Castiel shifts further onto his knees.
A satisfied smirk spreads across Sam's lips, and he saunters over to the couch. Placing his hands on the cushion to either side of Dean's head, Sam leans in and traces his thumb around the outer curve of his brother's ear.
Startled by the touch, Dean jerks away, and Castiel curls his hands protectively around the other man's neck, intercepting any further attempts from Sam.
"You are busy with your research, and we are causing a distraction," Castiel says with a scowl. He leans into Sam's personal space and growls while Dean flails, pushing at the solid angel in an attempt to avoid being smothered. "Why don't you find a more accommodating locale where you can continue your work? There are several coffee shops in the area that are open late. Shall I send you to one?" he asks, his fingers targeting Sam's temple.
Sam darts back out of Castiel's reach. Inebriated angelic teleportation seems a bit... perilous, more of a risk than he is willing to take. Castiel has been surly, antagonistic even, ever since they discovered the cause of Sam's odd behavior. Not that he blames Castiel's lack of trust, but he doesn't want to- "Okay, okay. Fine, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone; but Cas, you're drunk, and I don't want to materialize, or whatever, inside solid rock somewhere." Sam isn't certain that the angel wouldn't do so on purpose....
Striding back to the table, Sam winds the cords up before he dumps his laptop into the case. He makes his way from the room under the angel's suspicious gaze and ignores distressed noises coming from his brother as he closes the door behind him. If Dean does suffocate, Castiel can just resurrect him.
When the door slams shut, Dean gasps as Castiel finally relaxes. "Dude, Cas. Still human; still need to breathe!"
A low, heady laugh twines out of Castiel as he leans down, his tongue playing at the seam of Dean's mouth before stealing his breath away again.
Castiel draws back, locking his eyes with those of the hunter beneath him, and he strokes his thumbs along Dean's cheeks, then lower, his fingertips fanning out along the length of Dean's collar bones.
Ding.
"Was that- Did Sam leave his phone here?" A noise of frustration escapes Castiel, and he clenches his hand in Dean's t-shirt as Dean throws an arm over the back of the chair and levers himself around to look. Sure enough, Sam's Blackberry is still sitting on the table. Dean's eyes light up and a devious smile curves his lips. "Cas, have you ever considered a career in modeling?"
"What does that-? Dean-"
But Dean is already shuffling him off despite the look of confusion Castiel directs his way. He chugs the remainder of his drink down, then grabs the angel by the hand and makes his way to the table.
The phone isn't a difficult piece of technology to figure out, but considering how much Dean has had to drink, it takes a few minutes of fiddling before he gets the camera working. He holds it aloft and angles it toward them. Just before he hears the snap of the shutter, Dean licks a long, wet line up Castiel's clenched jaw.
Click.
He checks the quality and grins, swiveling the LCD screen around to show the angel.
It's a little dark, but sure enough, there's Dean with his tongue sliding up Castiel's face. His own image is slightly blurred from turning toward the hunter, and Dean's green eyes gleam coyly out of the picture at him.
Muttering something about the lighting, Dean leads Castiel to the edge of the bed. "Time to get naked!" he announces playfully.
Castiel shrugs out of his coats and watches Dean wander from lamp to switch, flicking on the remaining light sources in the room. Apparently Dean had forgotten to zip his pants back up, and now they were sliding down his hips. "Dean." Castiel says. He toes off his shoes then starts in on his the knot of his tie. "Dean," he tries again. His fingers, still heavy from the liquor, fumble artlessly at the smooth fabric.
"Yup?" Dean asks before he returns, standing in front of Castiel. He quickly releases the knot without much difficulty and slides the tie from around Castiel's neck. "I guess unlike darts, you don't get better at removing bras and ties the more you drink!"
The tilt of Castiel's head implies that he doesn't understand the reference. "You are wearing too much clothing," he points out.
Dean just grins and shoves the angel down onto the bed.
~~~~~~
Sam comes tromping back in at six in the morning. The room is unusually dark, and the only available light spills in through the open door behind him. He smacks his shin against the nearest endtable sending several glass bottles clattering to the floor and breaking the silence.
The sound of rustling cloth sends him spinning around, ready for a fight, but it is only Castiel pulling the sheets over himself and Dean. The elder Winchester is sprawled out on his belly across Castiel; his face is pressed into the crook of the angel's neck. They don't look very comfortable, but Castiel has his arm wrapped possessively around Dean - the latter is out like a light.
"Some of us still require sleep, Sam," Castiel says. His words are cold and quiet.
Dean snorts and nuzzles into the shoulder he's using as a pillow.
Not asleep then. Sam shakes his head. "I forgot my phone. I figured you'd want me to call you before I head over to Samuel's. You know, later, when you're less hungover," he says as he grabs his Blackberry from the table.
Dean flings his arm up, his palm curling around the side of Castiel's neck. "Yeah, okay, just-" he 'hmms' as Castiel slides a hand over the scar on his shoulder "-quit making so much damn noise."
Not caring if he disturbs Dean, Castiel, the neighbors or even God, Sam slams the door for good measure on the way out.
"I saved those pictures in multiple folders. And locked each one. Sam is going to have to look at every picture before deleting it," Dean says, snickering. "Set his background to randomly rotate through, too."
~~~~~~
Ding.
Dean rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand. He has a text message from Sam.
I know where you sleep, Dean....
He smirks and replies back with: Pretty sure this means I win any and all prank wars in the near future by default.