So. Castiel isn't as jealous and BAMFy as I was hoping he would be. But. ----- Dean had to admit, it was a really nice day outside. No, he really had to admit it because Sam was holding Dean's cell phone above his head, threatening Dean with its untimely destruction if he didn't.
"Sam, fine! Okay? You win. It's god damn gorgeous outside, okay? Game over, man. Game over. Give me my cell phone."
Sam had already chucked the television remote's batteries across the parking lot and ripped up the directory of television channels. Dean was getting antsy that his cell phone would survive his brother's maniacal reign of terror this morning. He still held the phone above his head.
"Yes, Dean. It is gorgeous outside. But you want to waste that. You want to sit inside this dingy motel room wasting away this perfect, God-given day on a fucking 'Dr. Sexy' marathon. Haven't you had enough 'Dr. Sexy' to last you a lifetime, Dean?"
Dean closed his eyes so he could make a point of rubbing his hand over his face. Sam was obviously still affected by Gabriel's role playing game. Dean knew he probably should have been, too. He had been shot in “Dr. Sexy,” operated on by a clearly mentally unstable man, and berated by Dr. Sexy himself. Dean should have also been as unenthusiastic about a "Dr. Sexy" marathon as Sam. But really, Dean had been berated by Dr. Sexy, had looked into those eyes, had pushed him up against a wall and, well, Dean had been affected by the experience. He'd had fantasy fodder for days. Of course, he couldn't explain any of this to Sam.
"This is what I need to relax." It was a half-truth. Dean really only needed his hand, but a half-day “Dr. Sexy” marathon really would help.
Sam, who was still holding Dean's cell phone hostage, sighed. "I'll trade you your cell phone for the car keys."
"She better come back smelling like cheeseburgers and french fries. I swear I still smell rotting arugula from the last time you had her." Dean fetched the keys. "Pizza might also work. Something sausage-y."
Sam scrunched his nose at that and traded Dean's phone for the keys. "Sorry about the remote."
Dean shrugged. He could manually change the channels. For Dr. Sexy.
An hour later, Dean was alone in Heaven. Not the real one. Better. He was in what Heaven would be like if God had grown up in Lawrence, Kansas and had never stayed at a hotel nicer than a Holiday Inn Express. It was a Dean Winchester kind of Heaven.
Except. Except Heaven was missing an angel. Dean retrieved his cell phone and dialed Castiel. After two rings, "Yes, Dean?"
"Cas, Room 131, the Howard Johnson in Butte City, California."
"Dean, the last time--"
"That was a joke and I apologize." Another half-truth. He was sorry, but sending Castiel to random hotel rooms also provided him and Sam hours of endless entertainment. Just the questions afterwards--"Why did that man say he ordered a 'bear' not a 'twink'?" and "I'm pretty sure there was a person inside of that cat costume. Why was there a person inside of that cat costume?"--meant Dean was going to do it again. He figured Castiel could use the experience with other humans, anyway.
Castiel was silent on the other end of the phone, but then there was the flutter-flutter whoosh of wings and Castiel appeared in the room, still on the phone. They hung up.
Dean patted the bed next to him. "Let me show you what you missed out on in Gabriel's little TV game."
Castiel looked dubious, but settled in next to Dean. "You've called me here to watch a play with you?"
"Cas," he said and looked at Castiel like he was the two thousand year old man in the room asking about "the Google." "This is better than a play. This is 'Dr. Sexy.'"
Castiel sighed the put upon sigh of a man who has to put up with Dean Winchester. Castiel considered the action on screen before him. A rakishly good looking man berated an attractive brunette woman. An attractive blonde woman consoled a sad-looking young man. Castiel said, "The blonde woman, she is this 'Dr. Sexy'?"
Dean was offended. "Cas, no. She's sexy, but she's not Dr. Sexy."
(1/2) More Than Fond of You, Dean/Castiel, R
-----
Dean had to admit, it was a really nice day outside. No, he really had to admit it because Sam was holding Dean's cell phone above his head, threatening Dean with its untimely destruction if he didn't.
"Sam, fine! Okay? You win. It's god damn gorgeous outside, okay? Game over, man. Game over. Give me my cell phone."
Sam had already chucked the television remote's batteries across the parking lot and ripped up the directory of television channels. Dean was getting antsy that his cell phone would survive his brother's maniacal reign of terror this morning. He still held the phone above his head.
"Yes, Dean. It is gorgeous outside. But you want to waste that. You want to sit inside this dingy motel room wasting away this perfect, God-given day on a fucking 'Dr. Sexy' marathon. Haven't you had enough 'Dr. Sexy' to last you a lifetime, Dean?"
Dean closed his eyes so he could make a point of rubbing his hand over his face. Sam was obviously still affected by Gabriel's role playing game. Dean knew he probably should have been, too. He had been shot in “Dr. Sexy,” operated on by a clearly mentally unstable man, and berated by Dr. Sexy himself. Dean should have also been as unenthusiastic about a "Dr. Sexy" marathon as Sam. But really, Dean had been berated by Dr. Sexy, had looked into those eyes, had pushed him up against a wall and, well, Dean had been affected by the experience. He'd had fantasy fodder for days. Of course, he couldn't explain any of this to Sam.
"This is what I need to relax." It was a half-truth. Dean really only needed his hand, but a half-day “Dr. Sexy” marathon really would help.
Sam, who was still holding Dean's cell phone hostage, sighed. "I'll trade you your cell phone for the car keys."
"She better come back smelling like cheeseburgers and french fries. I swear I still smell rotting arugula from the last time you had her." Dean fetched the keys. "Pizza might also work. Something sausage-y."
Sam scrunched his nose at that and traded Dean's phone for the keys. "Sorry about the remote."
Dean shrugged. He could manually change the channels. For Dr. Sexy.
An hour later, Dean was alone in Heaven. Not the real one. Better. He was in what Heaven would be like if God had grown up in Lawrence, Kansas and had never stayed at a hotel nicer than a Holiday Inn Express. It was a Dean Winchester kind of Heaven.
Except. Except Heaven was missing an angel. Dean retrieved his cell phone and dialed Castiel. After two rings, "Yes, Dean?"
"Cas, Room 131, the Howard Johnson in Butte City, California."
"Dean, the last time--"
"That was a joke and I apologize." Another half-truth. He was sorry, but sending Castiel to random hotel rooms also provided him and Sam hours of endless entertainment. Just the questions afterwards--"Why did that man say he ordered a 'bear' not a 'twink'?" and "I'm pretty sure there was a person inside of that cat costume. Why was there a person inside of that cat costume?"--meant Dean was going to do it again. He figured Castiel could use the experience with other humans, anyway.
Castiel was silent on the other end of the phone, but then there was the flutter-flutter whoosh of wings and Castiel appeared in the room, still on the phone. They hung up.
Dean patted the bed next to him. "Let me show you what you missed out on in Gabriel's little TV game."
Castiel looked dubious, but settled in next to Dean. "You've called me here to watch a play with you?"
"Cas," he said and looked at Castiel like he was the two thousand year old man in the room asking about "the Google." "This is better than a play. This is 'Dr. Sexy.'"
Castiel sighed the put upon sigh of a man who has to put up with Dean Winchester. Castiel considered the action on screen before him. A rakishly good looking man berated an attractive brunette woman. An attractive blonde woman consoled a sad-looking young man. Castiel said, "The blonde woman, she is this 'Dr. Sexy'?"
Dean was offended. "Cas, no. She's sexy, but she's not Dr. Sexy."