SPN Ficlet: For the Time Being
Nov. 6th, 2009 02:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielFor the Time Being
Dean/Castiel-ish, Sam
PG
665
Episode tag for 5.08.
Things will be okay for a little while longer.
Written because that ending could have used a little something more. And because I am avoiding work writing as well as the other fic I should be working on. Unseen by anyone else, so any mistakes are mine.
Sam opens the passenger door and angles himself into the front seat, shutting it behind him. Dean’s got his door open and one leg bent to slide in when he stops, straightens back up. Cas is watching him over the top of the Impala. He looks tired and unhappy, strangely alone, still cut up. There’s blood on his coat.
“Well,” Dean says, balancing himself with a hand on the door. “You coming?”
Nothing changes in Cas’ face, but Dean thinks he might see his shoulders relax just a little beneath his coat before he shuffles forward and opens the door, gets in. Dean feels the car rock a little with the force of the door closing and nods once to himself before sliding in behind the steering wheel.
They drive away from the warehouse without saying anything, Dean pointing the car toward their hotel. He tries hard to focus on the rumble of the engine, the yellow lines of the road flashing by, that particular shade of cloud-gray instead of thinking about Gabriel and how epically screwed they probably are. He figures Sam’s already brooding about it enough for the both of them.
He doesn’t know what Cas is doing. Dean glances in the rearview mirror to see him staring out the window, silent and still as he watches the world go by. Dean wonders if that’s what it’s like for infinite beings, life passing by in a blur around them as they experience things at their own pace. Wonders if Cas gets tired of being saddled with them, always going at a snail’s pace.
It’s a thought that’s way too deep for the type of day—or is it days?—he’s had. Dean thinks about their motel room and longs for a beer.
“So,” Sam says after a few minutes of tense silence. “You disappointed you didn’t get to meet the real Dr. Sexy?”
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean shoots him a glare out of the corner of his eyes, looks back at the road. He’s not sure if he’s glad Sam’s not going all doom ‘n gloom on them or if he’s upset that that’s what Sam wants to talk about.
Sam shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. You were pretty into him.” His grin is huge and annoying.
“Who is Dr. Sexy?” Cas asks. Dean groans and glances in the mirror at Cas blinking owlishly at both of them from the backseat.
Sam’s grin turns evil. “Yeah, Dean. Tell us about the good doctor.”
“Maybe he could’ve helped you out with your genital herpes.”
The grin disappears, replaced by a frown as Sam squirms uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sam has a sexually transmitted disease?”
Dean grins and claps Sam on the shoulder. “More than one by now,” he says, tossing Cas a wink. “Right, Sammy?”
Sam’s frown deepens. He shrugs off Dean’s hand with a glare of his own before turning to stare out the window. “It was just a commercial,” he says, like that makes it any less hilarious.
Dean just laughs and puts both hands back on the steering wheel. He’s sore and wants to sleep for a week, wants—no, deserves a burger and fries, a beer. Maybe even some pie. He doesn’t want to think about angels and their epic version of Family Feud or have to explain Dr. Sexy’s magnetism to anyone. Doesn’t want to examine the wave of relief that hit him when Gabriel snapped his fingers and brought Cas back battered and bruised but still in one piece.
The way his palms itch to pull Cas aside and check for himself.
So instead he reaches across to punch Sam in the shoulder. “Bitch.”
That gets him an eye roll, but Sam’s face softens a little when he responds, “Jerk.”
Cas watches them both like they’re the strangest, most fascinating things he has ever encountered and doesn’t want to look away because who knows what they might do next.
Dean drives on and thinks, yeah, this he can do.
Dean/Castiel-ish, Sam
PG
665
Episode tag for 5.08.
Things will be okay for a little while longer.
Written because that ending could have used a little something more. And because I am avoiding work writing as well as the other fic I should be working on. Unseen by anyone else, so any mistakes are mine.
Sam opens the passenger door and angles himself into the front seat, shutting it behind him. Dean’s got his door open and one leg bent to slide in when he stops, straightens back up. Cas is watching him over the top of the Impala. He looks tired and unhappy, strangely alone, still cut up. There’s blood on his coat.
“Well,” Dean says, balancing himself with a hand on the door. “You coming?”
Nothing changes in Cas’ face, but Dean thinks he might see his shoulders relax just a little beneath his coat before he shuffles forward and opens the door, gets in. Dean feels the car rock a little with the force of the door closing and nods once to himself before sliding in behind the steering wheel.
They drive away from the warehouse without saying anything, Dean pointing the car toward their hotel. He tries hard to focus on the rumble of the engine, the yellow lines of the road flashing by, that particular shade of cloud-gray instead of thinking about Gabriel and how epically screwed they probably are. He figures Sam’s already brooding about it enough for the both of them.
He doesn’t know what Cas is doing. Dean glances in the rearview mirror to see him staring out the window, silent and still as he watches the world go by. Dean wonders if that’s what it’s like for infinite beings, life passing by in a blur around them as they experience things at their own pace. Wonders if Cas gets tired of being saddled with them, always going at a snail’s pace.
It’s a thought that’s way too deep for the type of day—or is it days?—he’s had. Dean thinks about their motel room and longs for a beer.
“So,” Sam says after a few minutes of tense silence. “You disappointed you didn’t get to meet the real Dr. Sexy?”
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean shoots him a glare out of the corner of his eyes, looks back at the road. He’s not sure if he’s glad Sam’s not going all doom ‘n gloom on them or if he’s upset that that’s what Sam wants to talk about.
Sam shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. You were pretty into him.” His grin is huge and annoying.
“Who is Dr. Sexy?” Cas asks. Dean groans and glances in the mirror at Cas blinking owlishly at both of them from the backseat.
Sam’s grin turns evil. “Yeah, Dean. Tell us about the good doctor.”
“Maybe he could’ve helped you out with your genital herpes.”
The grin disappears, replaced by a frown as Sam squirms uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sam has a sexually transmitted disease?”
Dean grins and claps Sam on the shoulder. “More than one by now,” he says, tossing Cas a wink. “Right, Sammy?”
Sam’s frown deepens. He shrugs off Dean’s hand with a glare of his own before turning to stare out the window. “It was just a commercial,” he says, like that makes it any less hilarious.
Dean just laughs and puts both hands back on the steering wheel. He’s sore and wants to sleep for a week, wants—no, deserves a burger and fries, a beer. Maybe even some pie. He doesn’t want to think about angels and their epic version of Family Feud or have to explain Dr. Sexy’s magnetism to anyone. Doesn’t want to examine the wave of relief that hit him when Gabriel snapped his fingers and brought Cas back battered and bruised but still in one piece.
The way his palms itch to pull Cas aside and check for himself.
So instead he reaches across to punch Sam in the shoulder. “Bitch.”
That gets him an eye roll, but Sam’s face softens a little when he responds, “Jerk.”
Cas watches them both like they’re the strangest, most fascinating things he has ever encountered and doesn’t want to look away because who knows what they might do next.
Dean drives on and thinks, yeah, this he can do.
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Date: 2009-11-07 08:36 pm (UTC)I'm really happy you enjoyed this, thank you!