I’m finally caught up! A little present for y’all before the episode tonight. Takes place between 13.13 and 13.14.
For no particular reason, here’s a Destiel fried chicken dinner date.
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He finishes putting his gun back together only to start taking it apart again.
The pieces move and click in his hands with a rhythm as sure and familiar as a Zeppelin song. The slide comes apart, the barrel pops out onto the table, he instinctively runs a rag along all the inner ridges a second time. A third. A fourth.
He doesn’t look across the table at Cas. He can feel the proximity of Castiel’s shoe next to his own under the table; it would be easy for him to shift and press their feet together, but something stops him. He keeps his eyes down and takes apart his gun over and over and over, gritting his teeth.
How could I not know, he berates himself. How.
Castiel sighs, and for a moment Dean panics that he’s heard his self-punishing inner monologue. Castiel pushes his chair away from the table and stands, but he doesn’t say anything. Before he turns, he reaches out and taps Dean on the hand, just once, like one of their customary pats on the shoulder only much softer, and the gun pieces stop moving in Dean’s grip. The moment is so quick and casual that Dean feels a little ridiculous for fixating on it.
Castiel turns and walks through the door, leaving the rest of them behind. Dean watches him go and chews the inside of his cheek. Sam, blessedly, doesn’t appear to notice.
He tips his head down and returns to his task. Cas will come back.
Probably.
“For the love of God!” Donatello thunders, slapping his hands flat on the table.
Sam startles. Dean regards him with raised eyebrows.
“Will you shut up with that? Ticktickticktick all in my ears! I can’t think!” he shouts, glaring accusingly in Dean’s direction.
Dean puts down his gun. He wipes his hands on his dirty piece of rag cloth.
He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. Donatello actually sighs in relief.
He finds Castiel in the kitchen.
Tag: ozonecologne
13.12 coda
Continuing my catch-up coda spam, here’s the next one! Written without any knowledge of 13.13.
PSA: quite a few of my taglist subscribers suddenly aren’t able to be tagged anymore. If you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist, or your url has changed, please send me a note so I can update! Thank you!
It was kind of nice.
Not mind control. Mind control is never nice. Having his feelings messed with always leaves a roiling pit like Charybdis in the bottom of Dean’s stomach, a sort of disgust that won’t ever manifest as anything other than shame.
But it was kind of nice to just enjoy being in love for a minute.
13.10 coda
YOOOOOO I’M BACK
THIS IS LATE
AND WRITTEN WITHOUT ANY KNOWLEDGE OF 13.11, 13.12, OR 13.13
HOPE YOU ENJOY ANYWAY(Quite a few of my taglist subscribers suddenly aren’t able to be tagged anymore. If you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist or your url has changed, please send me a note so I can update! Thank you)
“You know,” Dean says, kicking away some dead leaves with the toe of his boot, “If we die in here, I’m going to be pretty pissed off.”
Sam parts a partition of ferns with his hands, and gets scratched in the cheek by a twig for his trouble. “Yeah?” he asks, breathlessly.
Perhaps when being chased by an unidentified monster in another dimension is not the best time to have a brotherly heart-to-heart, but Dean’s voice does center him a little. The conversation reminds him to breathe regularly and to calm his pulse as much as he’s able, high as it is careening through unfamiliar jungle. An iridescent beetle the size of his ear scuttles just out of reach as he catches himself on a tree trunk.
“Yeah,” Sam answers himself. “Me too.”
Dean huffs and launches himself past an overturned log. “I mean, dude. I never even – we never even said goodbye to Cas.”
Sam frowns. “Oh. Shit. He’s probably worried.”
Dean grunts as he smacks some foliage out of his face. “More like furious. You think he’d grab us from the Empty if we did bite it?”
Sam makes a considering sound. “He and the Empty do have a rapport.”
“Less than friendly though, I think.”
A tinny roar sounds in the distance, and Dean picks up his pace with a muffled swear. To Sam’s surprise, he quickly outruns him, speeding ahead.
“If you had some of that lizard protein earlier, you might be able to keep up!” Dean shouts over his shoulder.
Sam breathes deep through his nose and pushes himself further. Survive first. Talk later.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 