Title: Blasphemy Is Just Too Damn Mainstream
Author: briecheesie
Genre/Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Castiel/Lollipop, Sam
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 286
Summary: Wherein Sam presents Cas with his very first lollipop and Dean is pretty sure that not even averting the Apocalypse can save him from hell now.



When Dean thinks about it, Cas is kind of like an owl in a lot of ways. He's got those big all-seeing eyes that make you feel like he can look inside to your soul (he can), he's got the perpetual head tilt down, he's wise, he doesn't sleep at night (or ever) and if you're a field mouse (read: demon) he will fuck your shit up.

He is not like an owl in the way that, currently, he's about to find out exactly how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop.

Every time the lollipop exits Cas' mouth, the layer of hard candy is that much thinner and Dean wishes he'd just fucking chomp down already because watching an angel all but fellate something from his childhood is probably not one of those things Heaven Approves Of. And, okay, Dean averted the apocalypse, but he still needs all the brownie points he can get.

Especially because Sammy's murder by his hands might just be in the very near future.

"It's a lollipop, Cas," Sam had said in what had been the worst attempt to appear innocent that Dean's seen in years. And Cas, being Cas, still bought it hook, line and sinker. "You lick and suck it."

And with that, Sam had grabbed a book and pranced his little shit self out of Bobby's living room to leave Dean alone with his one way ticket back to hell (and Dean's pretty sure the fine print reads that being gripped tight and raised from perdition is a onetime deal only).

Whatever.

When Dean's back on the rack, being cut to pieces for his blasphemous sins, Dean hopes Sam is happy.

-fin.

Title: Love Is Pretty Hard When Your Boyfriend's a Robot
Author: briecheesie
Genre/Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, implied Sam/Pineapple
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 1,18
Summary: Wherein Dean craves Castiel's humanity to the point that he's started popping inappropriate boners everywhere, Castiel shows Dean that he's not one to let others do all the hard work for him and Sammy is probably going to wake up in tears.
Notes: Tiny little sequel-ish thing to Emotionality Is Not a Real Word, so it won't make sense unless you read that first.



Dean thinks he might be just a little bit closer to getting Cas back when he stumbles downstairs at three in the morning and finds the angel in Bobby's kitchen with his hands literally caught in the cookie jar.

Except the cookie jar is Sam's fruit salad and Castiel's hands are his fingers and, okay, maybe not literally but it's close and the analogy still completely fits. Especially when Cas' eyes darken slightly with what might be guilt (and Dean might need some serious help, because it seems like these days 'Castiel showing emotion' is the equivalent of 'Castiel spreading his legs and begging to be fucked' for Dean, who is just popping inappropriate boners left and right whenever Castiel so much as sighs with some feeling behind it).

Dropping down into a chair at the table, Dean stretches his neck to take a peek at the fruit bowl chilling on the counter, scowling darkly at what he finds. He might not be a Batman-level detective or anything, but he's followed enough clues over his lifetime to feel pretty damn confident about his conclusion that he'd walked in on Castiel mid-pineapple thievery.

Mid-fucking-pineapple thievery.

Not only is it one fruit that Dean will actually eat - it's also Sammy's favorite. And now, when Sam wakes up to find all of the pineapple gone, Dean will only be able to partially enjoy his brother's grief. Victory usually tastes like tarty sweetness mixed with Sam's tears and now all Dean's gonna end up with in the morning is the tears. It's like a fucking rum and coke with just the booze.

Dean pauses and takes a moment consider that, promptly deciding it ain't really all that bad. He at least gets to experience the most satisfying part, so that probably counts for something.

Glancing up at Castiel, Dean throws him a tiny smirk.

"Didn't take you for a fruit man," he drawls, fingers drumming against the table. Castiel's still got traces of guilt on his face and it makes Dean feel a little too happy for it being this early in the morning. With a shrug (something Castiel's started to do more frequently again and it never stops making Dean feel awesome), Castiel carefully replaces the lid on the fruit bowl. His expression closes up completely after he puts the bowl back into the fridge, but Dean can't complain because it's only three hours past midnight and he's already been awarded a peek at the old Cas. It's a new record.

"Sam offered me some last night and I found the taste pleasing," Castiel gives as his excuse. The words make Dean realize that Sam might actually be happy Castiel took the initiative to do something as human as eat - especially if Sam knows that it was because of something he did himself - so Dean figures that the most obvious course of action here is to leave a note on the fridge claiming false credit for the missing fruit. It's Dean going out of his way to cause his brother pain, sure, but Sam's been particularly obnoxious and stupid happy ever since he met some girl at the store and, well, misery loves company and Dean refuses to suffer through his Cas-withdrawal alone.

Looking down at the table, Dean furrows his brow and wonders if it can even be called a "withdrawal" when the proverbial body of his fixation is there even though the proverbial soul is taking a holiday. Castiel's pretty much always around these days, despite the fact that it's been over a month since he cleared Sam's soul for lift-off (and even though Castiel had promised them that there was only a zero percent chance that Sam could wake up one morning thinking murder and mayhem sounded like a grand ol' time, Dean didn't stop locking his door at night until about a week ago).

He studies Castiel as the angel delicately wipes his fingers on a dish rag instead of just mojoing the sticky mess away, then purses his lips and takes a second to regroup his thoughts. He wants to find out exactly why Castiel is always hanging around bozos like him and Sam instead of being up above to run Heaven with an iron fist (it's just an expression, but Dean wonders if angel fists actually are iron, because that might just explain how the fuck Cas branded him). When he opens his mouth, though, Dean's voice comes out as an echo of his earlier thoughts instead.

"Dude, why bother with a stupid rag when you can just mojo it off?"

Castiel tenses and Dean wonders if he's crossed yet another one of Castiel's many invisible lines (and it would really not surprise Dean if he had, because he's kind of a pro at it by now). But, instead of getting defensive, Castiel just relaxes again and tilts his head, meeting Dean's gaze. The blue eyes are calm, crystal and inhuman and Dean holds his breath in anticipation anyway.

"Because watching your-" Castiel begins, then adds, "and Sam's," as if the kid is just an afterthought, "efforts to help me regain my human attributes..." Castiel pauses, a frown tugging at his lips while he considers what exactly he wants to say. When he finally does start up again, the words are slow to come out, "It's made me want to contribute to the cause. I think-" Castiel frowns fully here, looking a little frustrated with himself. He shakes his head. "I believe that I do miss them." Another lull and the vacant eyes don't change much but Castiel's voice kind of does when he murmurs, "And you."

Dean tries to say something charming and suave in response - maybe even something so touching it'd make Sammy swoon - but all that comes out is an embarrassed hiss of air as he drops his head onto the table and groans, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"Inappropriate boners for everyone," he mumbles sourly, squeezing his eyes closed. Castiel asks, "What?" as if he didn't quite hear (he probably didn't, though, so thank fucking thank God for that) and Dean's sole reply is to flip Castiel the bird. He does it partly because his weird new erotic trigger is all Castiel's damn fault and mostly because Castiel doesn't have the current ability to get offended - which is nice and leaves Dean feeling both vindicated and guilt-free.

He peeks up at a puzzled looking Castiel and grunts, completely aware that his thought processes - along with his dick and his life and his angel - are pretty fucking skewed.

-fin.

Title: Only The Good Die Young Because The So-So Just Ain't That Lucky
Author: briecheesie
Genre/Characters/Pairing: Terrible Life!AU. Dean Smith/stoner!Castiel, Sam Wesson
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 235
Summary: Wherein Sam Wesson pays the price for failing to translate Dean's "It'll be just you and me, Sammy" into the more accurate "It'll be just you and me, Sammy. And also my oversexed, pot-smoking boyfriend."




When Sam had finally convinced Dean to go monster hunting with him, he had expected two men on the road together, with nothing to lose and nothing to gain but a sense of identity. Two people bonding over hunting ghosts or vampires or whatever else was out there.

He did not expect to be sitting on a motel room bed next to Dean's....partner, trying very hard not to vomit from the heavy stench of pot.

"Dude, can you not?" he asks Castiel in what he thinks happens to be a very nice manner. The man focuses bored blue eyes on Sam and Sam can only grimace as he's rewarded with a puff of smoke in his face for his efforts.

"Cas," Dean says warningly from across the room, but it holds barely any threat behind it. He's got his face in a book and Sam thinks he said he was researching general demon mythology, but the pot is making Sam's head hurt and he can't remember for sure.

"Find anything good?" he asks anyway. Dean glances up at Sam, then quickly focuses on something over Sam's shoulder.

"Maybe," he says with a slow grin, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Sam doesn't need to turn around, can tell by the soft pants that Castiel is doing something extremely inappropriate.

He wonders how much he'll have to beg to get Sandover to take him back.

-fin.