Fic: Won't Get Fooled Again (Dean/Castiel)
Okay, getting my DVDs yesterday totally did not help my productivity-in regards to these or anything else. Please cross your fingers that I am able to get all of these done.
Nine days to go! Single digits, baby! Previous ficlets here.
Title: Won’t Get Fooled Again
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 4x22
Length: ~1,250 words
Summary: Written for deancastiel's Fortune Cookie challenge: Be careful or you could fall for some tricks today.
Won’t Get Fooled Again
Having the Trickster on their side occasionally-okay, frequently-seems worse than if he were aiding the enemy. True, it’s nice having a nigh-unkillable minor god fighting for Team Say, How ’Bout Not Destroying the Earth and Most of Humanity, but the guy is really annoying. He makes every day feel like the very worst of the Winchesters’ prank wars-constant wariness is key. Plus he’s really hard to get back at.
Dean may be getting the hang of it, though. Ironies of any kind are to be avoided. If something looks too good to be true, it probably is. And the Trickster can be beaten at his own game. Or, as he likes to call it, his own “morale boosting activities.” Right. If that douchebag switches the knife under Dean’s pillow for a dildo again, Dean’s gonna boost his morale into a nest of angry demons.
These thoughts are weighing heavily on Dean’s mind when he returns to his motel room one night to find Cas sitting on the edge of the nearest bed, an odd expression on his face. “Dean,” he says, then pauses. Dean’s just about to jump in when Cas retrieves the conversational ball he’s dropped: “There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Well doesn’t that sound like a picnic.” Dean sighs. “Okay, tell me in which new way we’re screwed now.”
Cas-flushes a little? Then he glances down. “It’s not-I do not wish to burden you further. But in light of recent events, I thought it would be best if we retain a level of complete honesty with each other.”
And Dean had just started thinking that his conversations with the angel mostly made sense. “Yeah, lying bad,” he says. “I think I got that memo.”
Cas nods, then takes a big breath. It can’t be because he needs the air: he looks like he’s quietly trying to psych himself up for something.
“Then I must profess,” he says, addressing his folded hands, “that I have recently come to realize that I have developed feelings for you that go beyond the relationship parameters we originally established.” He glances up nervously; Dean just stares at him. “What I’m trying to say, Dean, is that I lo-”
“Whoa, whoa!” Dean interrupts. His heart is racing, but it’s okay, because he’s figured it out now. “Nice try. Did you really think that I was going to fall for that?”
The figure on the bed does a pretty good job looking all shocked and hurt. “Fall for…”
Dean rolls his eyes. “‘Oh, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I made Dean think Cas was in love with him?’ Right, like I’m really going to believe that.”
You gotta admit, he’s good. The expression even looks like one of Castiel’s, soulful and compassionate. “Dean, you must understand that I am sincere-”
Some deities just don’t know when to give up. Fine. If he wants to play it that way…
“All right then, hot stuff,” Dean says, drawing his tongue across his lips, then twisting them into his most seductive grin. He swiftly shucks his jacket and his shirt. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The Trickster is obviously not the Gay Chicken Champion that Dean is. He just stands there, using Castiel’s face to look hurt and vaguely appalled. Then all at once he stiffens, his spine drawing straight and an almost-angelic fierceness entering his eyes. “Such mockery is entirely unnecessary. I promise you I won’t mention it again.” He storms past Dean and Dean feels the passing of his body like a breath, a gust of clean country air ghosting across his skin. His head whips around, even as Cas says, “I would wipe this incident from your memory if I did not believe you would consider such an action an even greater betrayal.”
“Wait, Cas!” Dean cries, and snatches at his arm, just barely managing to catch the edge of his coat sleeve. “Cas,” he says, his gut churning as the angel turns warily back around. “I didn’t-I thought-” Castiel’s face looks like it’s been carved from stone. “I’m an idiot, Cas. I…”
Fuck it, Dean thinks. Words aren’t worth the trouble they cause. And you can only be so careful.
Still his hand is hesitant as he reaches for Cas’ cheek. Half of him still expects the skin to shimmer, to change; for the Trickster to suddenly be there, staring back. Laughing. Because it does seem like the greatest-ever cosmic joke. That Dean should- And that Cas should too-
That Cas should close the distance between them before Dean can fully work up the courage is not something Dean anticipates, but he does appreciate it. Just like he appreciates the gentle nip of Cas’ teeth, the soft sweep of his tongue, and being able to open up, let him in. They should have just done this first, without all that messy, ridiculous prelude; strip everything else away and they’ve always known each other, could find each other blindly in the dark.
They pause for a moment, just breathing each other’s air, Dean’s eyes wide and open. Then all at once Cas’ eyelashes flutter, and his body shakes with a quiet, bewildered laugh. “You thought I was the Trickster?” He seems to be struggling to come up with an appropriate addendum to that, but all he can manage is, “You thought. I was. The Trickster.”
“Shut up, okay?” Dean wants to squirm away from him and he also wants to do no such thing. “It just…seemed like the most plausible explanation, all right?”
“More plausible than the fact that I love you?”
Okay, and now he does need to break away, needs almost to squirm out of his skin. Dean sticks his hands, still warm from the touch of Cas’ face, into his pockets. He really wishes he hadn’t gone and stripped off his shirt.
He forces out a laugh. “You can see how it seems a little absurd.”
Cas’ hands fall to his sides. He shakes his head. “Not at all, Dean.”
Dean looks away. He can’t-
“Remember what I told you when we first met?”
Cas told him lots of things-You have no faith, We have work for you, I’m the one-but Dean knows immediately what he means. “You said ‘Good things do happen,’” he says, and thinks about rolling his eyes, but instead just rolls his gaze back to Castiel’s. “And I told you-”
“You are frequently mistaken, Dean,” Cas says, a hint of a sly grin creeping onto his face, “as I believe recent events have shown.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down,” Dean growls.
Cas steps back into Dean’s personal space, presses a thumb to Dean’s bottom lip. Dean fights the urge to suck it into his mouth, and instead lets Cas trace his way along the curve of his mouth, a more casually intimate touch than he would allow from…anybody. “I know where the Trickster keeps his collection of vintage Playboys,” Cas says in a low, serious voice. “I think they could be persuaded to become a truly impressive assortment of back issues of Tiger Beat.”
Dean is startled into a laugh. “Maybe throw some copies of Sassy in there,” he suggests.
Cas drops his hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I believe that could be arranged.”
“Good,” Dean says. He takes a deep breath, feels Castiel echo it, feels him hold steady. “Good.”
Nine days to go! Single digits, baby! Previous ficlets here.
Title: Won’t Get Fooled Again
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 4x22
Length: ~1,250 words
Summary: Written for deancastiel's Fortune Cookie challenge: Be careful or you could fall for some tricks today.
Won’t Get Fooled Again
Having the Trickster on their side occasionally-okay, frequently-seems worse than if he were aiding the enemy. True, it’s nice having a nigh-unkillable minor god fighting for Team Say, How ’Bout Not Destroying the Earth and Most of Humanity, but the guy is really annoying. He makes every day feel like the very worst of the Winchesters’ prank wars-constant wariness is key. Plus he’s really hard to get back at.
Dean may be getting the hang of it, though. Ironies of any kind are to be avoided. If something looks too good to be true, it probably is. And the Trickster can be beaten at his own game. Or, as he likes to call it, his own “morale boosting activities.” Right. If that douchebag switches the knife under Dean’s pillow for a dildo again, Dean’s gonna boost his morale into a nest of angry demons.
These thoughts are weighing heavily on Dean’s mind when he returns to his motel room one night to find Cas sitting on the edge of the nearest bed, an odd expression on his face. “Dean,” he says, then pauses. Dean’s just about to jump in when Cas retrieves the conversational ball he’s dropped: “There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Well doesn’t that sound like a picnic.” Dean sighs. “Okay, tell me in which new way we’re screwed now.”
Cas-flushes a little? Then he glances down. “It’s not-I do not wish to burden you further. But in light of recent events, I thought it would be best if we retain a level of complete honesty with each other.”
And Dean had just started thinking that his conversations with the angel mostly made sense. “Yeah, lying bad,” he says. “I think I got that memo.”
Cas nods, then takes a big breath. It can’t be because he needs the air: he looks like he’s quietly trying to psych himself up for something.
“Then I must profess,” he says, addressing his folded hands, “that I have recently come to realize that I have developed feelings for you that go beyond the relationship parameters we originally established.” He glances up nervously; Dean just stares at him. “What I’m trying to say, Dean, is that I lo-”
“Whoa, whoa!” Dean interrupts. His heart is racing, but it’s okay, because he’s figured it out now. “Nice try. Did you really think that I was going to fall for that?”
The figure on the bed does a pretty good job looking all shocked and hurt. “Fall for…”
Dean rolls his eyes. “‘Oh, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I made Dean think Cas was in love with him?’ Right, like I’m really going to believe that.”
You gotta admit, he’s good. The expression even looks like one of Castiel’s, soulful and compassionate. “Dean, you must understand that I am sincere-”
Some deities just don’t know when to give up. Fine. If he wants to play it that way…
“All right then, hot stuff,” Dean says, drawing his tongue across his lips, then twisting them into his most seductive grin. He swiftly shucks his jacket and his shirt. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The Trickster is obviously not the Gay Chicken Champion that Dean is. He just stands there, using Castiel’s face to look hurt and vaguely appalled. Then all at once he stiffens, his spine drawing straight and an almost-angelic fierceness entering his eyes. “Such mockery is entirely unnecessary. I promise you I won’t mention it again.” He storms past Dean and Dean feels the passing of his body like a breath, a gust of clean country air ghosting across his skin. His head whips around, even as Cas says, “I would wipe this incident from your memory if I did not believe you would consider such an action an even greater betrayal.”
“Wait, Cas!” Dean cries, and snatches at his arm, just barely managing to catch the edge of his coat sleeve. “Cas,” he says, his gut churning as the angel turns warily back around. “I didn’t-I thought-” Castiel’s face looks like it’s been carved from stone. “I’m an idiot, Cas. I…”
Fuck it, Dean thinks. Words aren’t worth the trouble they cause. And you can only be so careful.
Still his hand is hesitant as he reaches for Cas’ cheek. Half of him still expects the skin to shimmer, to change; for the Trickster to suddenly be there, staring back. Laughing. Because it does seem like the greatest-ever cosmic joke. That Dean should- And that Cas should too-
That Cas should close the distance between them before Dean can fully work up the courage is not something Dean anticipates, but he does appreciate it. Just like he appreciates the gentle nip of Cas’ teeth, the soft sweep of his tongue, and being able to open up, let him in. They should have just done this first, without all that messy, ridiculous prelude; strip everything else away and they’ve always known each other, could find each other blindly in the dark.
They pause for a moment, just breathing each other’s air, Dean’s eyes wide and open. Then all at once Cas’ eyelashes flutter, and his body shakes with a quiet, bewildered laugh. “You thought I was the Trickster?” He seems to be struggling to come up with an appropriate addendum to that, but all he can manage is, “You thought. I was. The Trickster.”
“Shut up, okay?” Dean wants to squirm away from him and he also wants to do no such thing. “It just…seemed like the most plausible explanation, all right?”
“More plausible than the fact that I love you?”
Okay, and now he does need to break away, needs almost to squirm out of his skin. Dean sticks his hands, still warm from the touch of Cas’ face, into his pockets. He really wishes he hadn’t gone and stripped off his shirt.
He forces out a laugh. “You can see how it seems a little absurd.”
Cas’ hands fall to his sides. He shakes his head. “Not at all, Dean.”
Dean looks away. He can’t-
“Remember what I told you when we first met?”
Cas told him lots of things-You have no faith, We have work for you, I’m the one-but Dean knows immediately what he means. “You said ‘Good things do happen,’” he says, and thinks about rolling his eyes, but instead just rolls his gaze back to Castiel’s. “And I told you-”
“You are frequently mistaken, Dean,” Cas says, a hint of a sly grin creeping onto his face, “as I believe recent events have shown.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down,” Dean growls.
Cas steps back into Dean’s personal space, presses a thumb to Dean’s bottom lip. Dean fights the urge to suck it into his mouth, and instead lets Cas trace his way along the curve of his mouth, a more casually intimate touch than he would allow from…anybody. “I know where the Trickster keeps his collection of vintage Playboys,” Cas says in a low, serious voice. “I think they could be persuaded to become a truly impressive assortment of back issues of Tiger Beat.”
Dean is startled into a laugh. “Maybe throw some copies of Sassy in there,” he suggests.
Cas drops his hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I believe that could be arranged.”
“Good,” Dean says. He takes a deep breath, feels Castiel echo it, feels him hold steady. “Good.”