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It's another drabble thread! HtGAwM, Glee, SPN, White Collar and more :-)


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Hey guys!!!

Okay, so the last thing I should be doing is starting yet another drabble thread... but there's a few fandoms that I want to... break into, I guess, and this seemed a relatively easy way for me to do so...You'll have to forgive me over the next five weeks as I struggle through university and exams - but after that I'll have more time to write! biggrin.pngI'm being a little different as well. I think I might have seen Rachiella44 do this? Where her drabbles were based off songs? So, I put my song on shuffle and took the first 150. Not the most original idea, but, meh.Also, no promises that these will be proper drabbles. I'll try... but my words tend to like getting in the way...

Fandoms include, but are not limited to:

Glee - particularly The Warblers tonguesmiley.gif

Supernatural

White Collar

Community

Torchwood

Arrow

Doctor Who (though I haven't seen much of Matt Smith so I may struggle with his characterisation)

Harry Potter

...?

I'm always looking for more to add to my list as well!

If there's anything you'd like to see at all, I always seem to work better with prompts! I'll even do a crossover for you if you ask really nicely tonguesmiley.gif

So welcome to my insanity! Hope you enjoy it!

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I just want to say, before posting this first one, is that I'm still a few eps behind. My computer apparently doesn't like season 4 episode 6... Also, I have never written anything White Collar before, so please please please let me know your thoughts for this one?

Prompt: Black and Gold (Sam Sparro)

Fandom: White Collar

Characters: Neal Caffrey

“Caffrey? What do you think? Is it legit?”

“It’s so shiny…”

Peter groaned, looking down at the kid in front of him. When Neal had refused to take any medication before, he hadn’t realised… but apparently even Day-Quil made him higher than the population of Holland. “So you’re saying the Dali must be counterfeit because… it’s too shiny?”

“The… brush strokes… tainted…” Neal coughed into his hand. “Tainted Love is a good song…”

He snorted. Why he’d even come into work that day, Peter had no idea, when he’d been sneezing every three minutes and complaining in the other two. They’d had a case sent in to them – a suspected counterfeit in the Dali exhibit – and Diana had somehow managed to force some drugs into him… though apparently the only effect that had had, was to obliterate the tiny amount of functionality… hell, even coherency… Neal had when he’d walked into the Bureau that morning. “What…” He stared at him. “What are you doing?”

Neal was scratching at his nose with the printed image… before shoving it away, raising his hands to his mouth. “ITCH’uh! Heh’USH’oo!

“Bless you.”

But now Neal had taken a breath in… and started to sing, in a rather scratchy- and painful-sounding voice. “Sometimes I feel I’ve got to… run away, I’ve got to… get away from the pain.

They really weren’t going to get anything done today. With another sigh, Peter handed the case file to Diana. “Go get Jamieson to look over this,” he told her. “I don’t think we’re getting much help from this one today.”

“Got it, boss,” she said, grinning at the dazed look in Neal’s eyes as he glanced over to them.

“Peter…” he said, his voice cracking. “Use stannous chloride. Rumbour has it he likes signdi-g with gold. It’ll go black if there’s gold there, add you’ll kndow it’s himb.”

Peter looked over at Diana again.

“I’ll make sure it’s done,” she nodded. “Feel better soon, Neal.”

Hnng’TCH’uh!

Peter shook his head. “Come on, Caffrey. Stand up. I’m taking you home.”

“Ndo, I cad’t leave. I ndeed to save the bandandas…”

“Caffrey,” he growled, then softened his tone as he dragged an arm over his shoulder, helping him stand. “Neal. You’re done for the day. Let’s go.”

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And, back to my boys - Zane will be happy!!!

Prompt: Famous Last Words (My Chemical Romance)

Fandom: Glee… technically…

Characters: Wevid. That’s Wes and David. And, no, they aren’t in a relationship – NOTHING will come between Wes and his gavels. Not even Santana.

Word count: 594 (hey, that’s almost a drabble…)

Heh… Heh’kishh’oo! Heh’kishhhh’oo!

“Wes, are you sure you’re okay?” David asked nervously, watch his friend struggle… he probably had to cough, too, but of course he wouldn’t let any sign of sickness show on such an important day. Sneezing, he could put down to allergies. Anything else could throw off their vibe… and they needed all the confidence they could get for their regionals performance.

“I’mb absolutely finde, tha-k you, David,” Wes replied, with only a tiny grimace. “Do-‘t worry. We’ve got to get mboving.”

David sighed. “It’s not that you’re not a brilliant tenor… possibly the best Dalton has seen in a really long time… but if you’re sick, you can…” He trailed off as Wes’ eyes – only a little glassy – blazed at him. “At least sleep on the bus.”

“I’mb finde. Just ndeed these stupid… heh’kishh! Kishh’oo!... stupid adtihistambindes to work.”

David shook his head. “You’re ‘finde.’”

“I’mb finde.” He repeated tersely.

David rolled his eyes, following the lead council member onto the bus. He could only hope the words wouldn’t come back to bite him on the bum later…

*******************************************************************

True to his word, Wes did end up sleeping on the bus. And all through soundcheck. He would have through their own performance, too, but Blaine had decided to value their lives more than Wes’ health… or perhaps he was just afraid of a gavel being inserted into any area Wes thought wasn’t too dirty to disinfect, if they let him keep sleeping.

In all fairness, he had made it through the performance, only having to duck off stage during the applause between songs to muffle a few sneezes into his elbow. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have noticed the flush too deep to be explained by stage lighting and makeup, or the ghostlike pallor underneath the makeup, or the extra concealer to bury the bags under his eyes…

But the instant they’d stepped off stage with their second place trophy and onto the bus… Wes had dropped.

Not fainting. There was at least that much. It was more that his legs just gave up, and he sat, breathing heavily, on the floor, his head tilted back against his seat.

“Wes?” David prompted gently, crouching down beside his best friend. “You okay?”

Wes looked at him briefly, and that was all the confirmation he needed… that deadened pleading in his eyes… to not make a big deal of it, but to reassure him that he was okay…

“You want to sit up?”

A flicker up of the eyes again. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“You need your inhaler?” He was a little worried by how Wes didn’t seem to have the energy… or air… to speak…

“Ndo…” Wes whispered, before his breath began hitching. “Heh’ish. Ish. Ish’oo.

And his sneezes… even they were lacking energy. “Bless you.”

David passed him a tissue, purposefully brushing the back of his hand against Wes’ forehead as he drew back… and it was absolutely boiling. Damn it.

“You want some Advil?”

And again, Wes’ eyes flickered up to him – that must be a yes. God, he must be sick if they’d gotten to the point of accepting medication. “Heh’kishh’oo!

“Bless you again…” David, who at least had had sufficient warning earlier to think to pack drugs – because Wes wasn’t exactly known for his nice, obedient fevers that never rose as high as 103 every time he got sick… “How’d you get this bad?”

“I said I’d be fide,” Wes whispered again, speaking through his blocked nose. “Guess that’s always fabous last words, huh?”

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I love your Warbler drabbles.

“I’mb finde. Just ndeed these stupid… heh’kishh! Kishh’oo!... stupid adtihistambindes to work.”

David shook his head. “You’re ‘finde.’”

“I’mb finde.” He repeated tersely.

^ also this, 8D DENIAL IS IN THE AIR AND I LAHVA IT

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This is awesome! :D I don't know the fandom for the first one but they were both great! thumbsupsmileyanim.gif I love the song Famous Last Words as well and so that one was just like w00t.giftwitchsmile.gif the songs that you've chosen are GREAT! So much for my friend who was saying I'm strange for liking both Train and My Chemical Romance... :) Eagerly waiting further updates!

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  • 2 weeks later...

Hi guys!!!

Okay, okay, I know I have my Warbler drabbles, but, well, this is dedicated to Emily anyway, just because... also because Trent is an absolute darling and, well, I typically judge how much I love someone/thing by how much I want to torture them in fanfic :S But... yes. We get more sick!Trent tonight :-)

And, alyssa, you don't know White Collar? Oh, my poor darling. Think Matt Bomer, with hats and suits and surprisingly often shirtless *cough* as an artist/criminal/FBI assistant. *sighs contentedly* Plus plus plus plus there are story arcs that last 3.5 seasons... instead of maybe an episode. It's wonderful :P But, I'll say your music taste is awesome! Mine is... ridiculous... but, I've been known to put jazz in the same playlist as pirate metal. And, yes, you read that correctly. I own - and listen to - pirate metal :P

Oh and and and and I have a Supernatural one that I'm at this point in time working on... so it'll probably be the next post. And... it's strange... I have never ever

written for them before but HOMG poor babies. Subjecting them to my writing :P

But, anyhoo, shall continue onwards with my lovely little Warblers. I'm so mean to them...

Oh, and, of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that less than a week ago I received Telly Leung's album in the mail... and even less to do with the fact that he sings Firework. But it's incredible and while I'd urge you all to find it online, I don't think it's actually there yet... So you'll have to wait for his concert with Curt and Dom (Nick and Trent, respectively), because I'm about 90% sure he'll sing it then. Going completely from my gut :P :P :P

... STOP RAMBLING AND GET ON WITH IT

Yes. Here we go.

Prompt: Barely Breathing (Duncan Sheik)

Fandom: Glee

Characters: Trent, Jeff, Nick, Wes

Words: 1,791. Oops…

Babe… I got you babe…

Well… if he had to be woken at 3 in the morning, Wes supposed he’d rather it be a call from the Warblers… and while he’d definitely changed his ringtone the instant he’d left school grounds (and David’s reach), he couldn’t quite bring himself to change their special tone.

The fact that it was 3 am, and definitely a strange time to be on the phone, didn’t even register in his mind as he snatched up the mobile. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God we got you,” he heard Jeff rushing over the other end. “Sorry to wake you, mate, but, well, we got the ambulance and inhalers and stuff here so we don’t need you but he’s still asking for you and the ambulance is coming and – “

The repeated ‘ambulance’ was all it took to jolt Wes fully awake, sitting up and drawing his quilt around him. “Jeff, I’m sorry, but slow down… What’s this about an ambulance?”

“It’s Trent,” the Aussie said. “We got the ambulance coming, but he wanted to talk to you so I said I’d try.”

“Okay…” Wes rubbed his forehead, breathing, his heart still quickening. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He… Thank God Nick went to check on him,” Jeff continued rambling. “We think… He’s been sick for a week and Nick came to check on him tonight because we were all so worried and –"

Put me on,” whispered a tiny voice – which was surprisingly picked up by the mic on the phone. Or maybe it was on loudspeaker… but it was enough to break the blonde out of his bordering-on-manic rant.

There was a loud rustling and a clap over the line, like the phone had changed hands, before Wes had really began to register that he was awake, that one of his boys was sick, that he should be a lot more worried than his sleep-induced haze would allow…

“Hey, Trent,” Wes said, smiling, forcing some calm into his voice. “What’s going on?”

A cough over the phone was all it took to inform Wes. Trent had another infection. It sounded… similar to his normal, awful, rattling chesty coughs that tended, after 2 months of bronchitis, to sneak in post-virally… only this was longer, more drawn-out… it sounded more painful. And it was punctuated by a near-scream as Trent gasped air back in. Almost like he had whooping cough…

And it just went on and on. At one point Wes actually brought out his watch, squinting through the dim light off his phone at the hands, watching the seconds tick by, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for Trent to take his own.

But then, after (was it really only 30 seconds?) they died down, becoming less frequent, and Trent was able to splutter words around the coughing. “I’b… sorry…” he said, breathing as quickly and heavily as his airways would allow.

“Oh, little blackcap…” Wes couldn’t help the sympathy oozing out his voice. “You feel really bad, huh?”

Heh…r’ASHOO! … Hih’TCH’uh! Tishhh’uh!... Heh… heh’EKSTCH!” He jumped at the sneezes, before Trent snorted. “You… could say… that…”

“How’d you let yourself get this sick, hmm?”

“I’ve beed good, I pro… I pro… heh’ashoo-ASHOO!... I probise,” Trent rasped. “I’b… sorry… I did’t wa-t… to wake you but…”

Wes pulled the phone from his ear as Trent fell again victim to his chest. He barely sounded human any more… it was a wonder no one from their hall had noticed it earlier…

“Sorry…” He repeated thickly, maybe 15 seconds later.

“No, no apologising,” Wes sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “All it’s doing is draining your energy.”

“I did’t wa-t to… wake you up… I’b sorry…”

“Oh, Trent…” He couldn’t help but want to hold him, to care for him. It had been so long since he’d last been in contact with any sort of discomfort and not wanted to remove it… not been able to help squash it… “I’m sorry I can’t be there. But I’m glad you called… I mean… I mean, I’m not glad that you’re sick, but, I mean, if you want to just hear my voice then that’s absolutely fine. And if you’re going off in an ambulance, I’d want to know anyway.”

“Tha-k you…”

God, it seemed like so long ago the last time this happened. Trent had missed a week of school then… He hadn’t been as bad as this… but there was so much going on in his life at that time. And everything had just built and built and built and he’d collapsed. Wes just considered them all lucky it was he that found Trent, and not someone like Andrew or, even worse, the boarding staff – because as lovely as they were, they didn’t know how to handle that sort of stuff…

Or maybe it was just that Wes knew the power of a voice – how simply speaking to someone could calm you down for even the smallest period of time.

“You’re going to be okay, you know,” he felt the need to say. Call it first aid training – first thing to get written on forms was always rest and reassured pt – but, god, he was so damn worried now, the words were said almost as much to reassure himself.

Heh’USH’oo!

“Bless – “

Heh’TSHHH’uh! Heh-eh-KISHHH’uh!”

“Shit. Bless you…”

Trent didn’t, by some miracle, end up coughing this time. But when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper… and still managed to crack on its one syllable of longing. “… Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“I’b scared…”

“No… You’ll be okay. The paramedics are coming, and they’ll help you breathe again.” Wes rubbed at his eye, unconsciously, rubbing away at the worry pressing in on his head like a virus would.

“And we’re here too,” Nick said, voice crackling as it covered that extra distance.

“And, don’t worry, Wes – I’ve got Trent in the biggest hug imaginable,” Jeff cracked, the grin evident in his voice. “We have meds… the house staff are waiting to greet the ambulance… The only thing we couldn’t replicate from your time was your bedsheets!”

“Or your voice,” Nick added.

The undertones of Nick’s words, and Trent’s whimpered agreement, was what it took for him to understand, for everything to click into place. It wasn’t the sound of his voice that they missed – it was his voice. While lullabies belonged to Nick, the nightingale, Wes… knew how to communicate. And as clichéd as it may be (but clichés only exist because of that element of truth they hold), often, when words fail, music speaks. Especially to the Warblers, who could barely make it through breakfast without breaking into song. Wes had always been the one they went to when they were sad or sick. Not because of his first aid, or inability to panic, but because he could look at someone, look straight into them, work out exactly what the problem was… and do whatever it took to help fix it.

And instantly, he knew what to do. Clearing his throat – because it was 3 am, after all – and dropping straight into a husky, almost purely head, voice, he began to sing, much slower and gentler than the original.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,

Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin,

Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

He couldn’t help but to close his eyes, picturing it. Trent, probably wearing a pair of Jeff’s sweats because the kid was too darn stubborn to buy something comfortable, shivering under the image of New York splashed onto his bed sheets, Nick and Jeff either side of him… One of them holding a box of tissues, the other a mug of tea… and Trent. Poor baby. Last time he’d just looked so… dead. So tired and drawn and… thin, wasting away, his huge personality ghosting itself under the pallor of his skin…

Do you ever feel already buried deep?

Six feet under, scream, but no one seems to hear a thing?

Do you know that there’s still a chance for you?

That there’s a spark in you?

That was stretching directly to Trent. Illness always had a funny way of drawing out the worst in people – whether that be their behaviour or their mindset… and Trent’s was definitely the latter. Though, in all honesty, that thought barely entered Wes’ mind – he was just counting minutes until that ambulance was sure to arrive… Hopefully he could just help keep the calm until then…

Heh’EKSH’hah!

Wes started a little as he heard movement over the other end, throwing a bit more belt into his voice… Hoping that something was working.

You just gotta ignite the light

And let it shine.

Just own the night

Like the fourth of July.

He heard some quiet mumbling in the background, an Aussie accent – Jeff talking to the paramedics, or a teacher. And Nick was harmonising with him while Trent… sniffed and spluttered.

Cos baby, you’re a firework.

Come on, let your colours burst.

Make them go oh, oh, oh

As you shoot across the sky…

Oooh, oooh, oooh….

Wes let the note hang, half-listening to the hushed conversation over the phone, the steady – though rapid – beeping of what was probably some form of oximeter, and, rather jarringly, the snores muffled through his dorm door from the people down his hall.

“Tha-k you,” Trent whispered, actually seeming a little calmer.

“Are you okay… relatively?”

“I still feel… horrible… but it did help…” He could hear that tiny smile, though… He could picture that brave little face, so vulnerable yet so damn determined… Trent would be alright. “I have to… go. The parabedics… are waiti’g for be…”

“Okay. Take care of yourself… and keep me posted, won’t you?”

Trent murmured an acknowledgement.

“Call me from the hospital.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t eat the yellow snow they offer you,” Wes continued, weakly (tiredly?) attempting a joke.

Apparently his dreadful humour worked though, as there was a snort. “Yes, Papa,” Trent croaked.

“And start feeling better soon, too. I want you to be able to breathe without losing a lung by the time I get my ass back down to Ohio.”

“I’ll do by best,” Trent promised him. “Bye, Wes. Tha’k you.”

“See you soon, Trent.”

Wes hung up the mobile with a groan. Ohio was… probably 10 hours away, with traffic and breaks… which even Wes wasn’t crazy enough to do on only 2 hours of sleep. So, setting an alarm for… 7:30 (quite a reasonable hour), Wes somehow managed to crawl back into bed, knowing that in less than a day he’d be back with his brothers, back looking after them, almost like he’d never left…

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Prompt: Another Me (The Cab)

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: … I’ll let you guess :P And, yes, I totally know Supernatural. THOUGH I HAVE NOT SEEN SEASON 7 SO DO NOT SPOIL IT LEST YOU SUFFER A HORRIFIC DEATH INVOLVING MUCH SALT AND IRIDIUM AND RUSTY SILVER SPOONS FOR THE HELL OF IT…

Okay, I love you all, and I’d never do that (apart from maybe the rusty spoons) but PLEASE be nice to me.

Oh, and, again, NEVER written for these guys before so please please please please give me feedback! :D

Words: 1,062

It started fairly simply, really. The same as always. Sam and Dean had tried – yes, actually tried – to go on an actual vacation. They’d booked a nice hotel, somewhere far far away from anything and anyone – Australia. That was a nice, quiet, country. Nobody around to hear any screams… er… cause any trouble, rather. They’d drugged Dean out so he could actually survive the flight in peace…

It should have been so nice.

It wasn’t that they went looking for trouble, so much. But, goddammit, Trouble just really was out to get them.

So. Australia. Nice little country. Fairly abandoned. Fairly quiet. Full of resilient people. Plus, the salt content in Vegemite, a so-called national ‘delicacy’, was high enough to counteract virtually any form of ghost activity. And, if nothing else, this was a country where one missing person would make the news every night for a week.

Unfortunately for the Winchesters, however, one missing person of course turned into a string of high-class bank robberies, a few more missing people, one particularly nasty suicide, and some very odd… human remains… discovered on the side-streets of Perth in the early morning.

Something about it all just seemed… off. Call it intuition or whatever else have you, but the events – particularly the remains – was enough to prompt Sam to do some digging.

And so, just one week into their ‘vacation’, the Winchesters found themselves sitting at a makeshift dining table in their suite, a few books, newspapers, and the trusty laptop in front of them.

“I dunno, Sam,” Dean said. “Sure, the bodies were weird, but, dude, this is Australia. The whole country is pretty messed up… Don’t you remember watching Wolf Creek?”

“I’m telling you, Dean, it’s a shape-shifter, alright?” Sam sighed, pulling out yesterday’s The West Australia. “Look.”

All the signs were there. Dean didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to have a conscience. But, goddammit, if these last few years had taught him anything, it was to trust Sam and his gut instincts. And… despite what he wanted to believe… the kid had a point.

“Alright, fine, fine!” He gave in, crossing his arms. “We’ll go check it out tomorrow. Happy?”

Sam just nodded smugly.

***********************************

Of course he was right. Sam was always right. Well, except for whenever he let his trusting/caring gene get in the way… but Dean didn’t want to think about that. Especially not now, when there was a shapeshifter roaming the streets of Perth. A particularly bloodthirsty shapeshifter, that had, once again, taken on the form of Dean, and was now committing absolutely heinous crimes under his image.

Unfortunately (God, that word is getting used WAY too often on this vacation)… even more unfortunately… it was an Australian shifter. Which, as Sam and Dean had learnt in one particularly eventful night, meant that basically it had evolved crazily and was a lot harder to kill. A knife through the heart didn’t do the trick, and by the time they’d gotten close enough to try cutting its head off, it had dropped its skin, taken Dean’s image and sprinted off into the night.

Though, like every monster they came across, there was a weakness. They’d both sat for hours trying to find anything about the monsters over here… But, just as they were starting to consider Pokeballs as a valid solution, they came to the realisation, no one knew Dean’s body – Dean’s weaknesses – better than the Winchester’s themselves. And so some clichéd crap about turning weaknesses into strengths… may actually work in their favour this time.

… For once in his life, Dean Winchester considered himself lucky. And, even more unusually, lucky to get hayfever. Sure, it pissed him the hell off, having to drag his sorry, sneezing ass out of bed every morning, forcing down a couple of pills so that he could enjoy (enjoy? Dean Winchester, enjoy himself? God, this country was making him soft… and oddly introspective…) his day. But… he was used to waking up with a volcano threatening to erupt at the end of his nose. A shapeshifter? Probably not so much.

And that was how Dean now found himself in what was probably the weirdest situation ever… and, for the Winchesters, that was saying a lot. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Gabe was just screwing with them.

Heh… Hh’USH’UH! Heh’USH! USH! USH’OO!” ‘Dean’ sneezed.

Dean bit his tongue, stopping himself from blessing… himself…

Sam, on the other hand, grinned as he stepped forward, the moonlight glinting wickedly off his iridium-tainted knife. “You know, I’ve always found it amusing when you sneeze…”

“Yeah, you’ve always beend the… the… hih-NGJTCH’uh!... the sadistic onde,” ‘Dean’ baited.

“Oh, shut it, sneezy,” Dean snapped.

“Are you implying that I’m a dwarf?” The shape-shifter stared at him. “Cos, man, you gotta think about the implications of that remark.”

“The only thing I’m implying, is my foot in your ass unless you stop talking. Now.”

Sam snorted, eyes flickering between . “God, this is amusing.”

Heh… Hnggg’GUTCH’uh! Heh’ISH’uh! Heh… Heh… Heh’ISHHHH’oo!

“Bless you,” Dean grinned. “Hayfever sucks balls, doesn’t it?”

“So does your Mom… HRRR’ASH’oo!

“Is my sneezing always this annoying?”

“Pretty much,” Sam chuckled. “Shall we put it out of its misery?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” He threw the knife to Dean. “You can do the honours. I know how much you want to cut off your nose in the morning. Better take your chance now.”

Dean grinned, advancing towards the cornered Dean 2.0. “You know, the funny thing with second models,” he said, twirling the blade over his still-sneezing mirror-image, “is that they’re actually really great… Better looking, faster, more advanced… for about 5 minutes. And then the novelty wears off, and you’re left with a slightly larger machine, with just as many weaknesses, only a different operating system with no clue how to fix it.” With one smooth strike, he cut through ‘his’ head. “All it does is waste time and effort trying to clean up yet another mess.”

Sam snorted. “Come on. Let’s get back to our vacation. Our proper vacation.”

“Sounds great to me,” Dean agreed… before screwing his nose up. “Heh’EKSTISHH’uh!

“Dean…” Sam turned to him.

“Oh, relax kiddo,” Dean laughed, clapping him on the back. “It’s just a bit of dust.” He sighed. “Now, I believe I’ve got an appointment with that fine blonde Aussie over in room 3.06.”

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Awww hahaha poor boys can never catch a break.

"Is my sneezing always this annoying?"

Oh Dean~

I love that you put them in Australia. It's interesting seeing them in a foreign place!

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d'awww Wes has such an adorable motherly personality :heart: that whole thing made me all fuzzy with the feels 8D

and sneezing ghost-monster! hayfever is such a wonderful weakness ;) I was reading and wondering who you'd torture and it turned out to be neither Dean nor Sam, but an impersonator!

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  • 3 weeks later...

Sen Beret: I also live in Australia... So not sure if it's just my wishing they got their arses down here (because that would seriously amuse me... I mean... everything here is designed to kill you, so I think it would be hilarious!!! Plus, HOMG, they NEED to take on a drop bear. I think I'll have to write this now... BUT BACK ON TRACK) or just me being lazy :P But, dear God, I need to write them Down Under more often!!!

Emily: Awwww. He is. He really is. But, he also has a dreadful sense of humour, which is more why they call him 'Papa' more often. I'm not entirely sure who the mother would be... because the thought of calling either David or Thad 'Mama' is hilarious. David would probably put on a dress for a day, complete with fishnets, to prove his point... And Thad would look at you, laugh, and then threaten you with full 'Mama-care' - complete with changing and feeding...

... Okay, I think I need to write this too.

SHUT UP MUSE I HAVE EXAMS STOP GIVING ME IDEASSSSSSS

... Yes. And, well, yes, sneezing ghost-monster... Though, admittedly, looking and sounding remarkably like Dean. Though, I'd like to think it retains the accent... because, like everything, that would amuse me muchly!

Alright, onwards. Again, I'm... getting the hang of their voices, so, please, please, please, rip into me about it, because I want to get as close to perfecting them as possible... But, celebrating season 7 (celebrating?!), which I FINALLY got to see!!! And, my freaking muse didn't want to shut up... and Dean sounded horribly congested in the 15 minutes of s08e01 that I managed to see... which seemed to prompt this.

And, not necessarily the most original idea ever, but... well, I don't think I've seen a whole lot of Cas!torture here. Not that I've gone looking... but, well, I wanted to see how he'd cope. So... here you go! A drabble! Hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Everything’s Gonna Be Alright (The Babysitters Circus)

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas

A fluttering of wings accompanied a rush of wind. Dean didn’t look up, didn’t flinch – didn’t pay any attention – to the strange arrival. Cas had been popping in and out so sporadically lately – and, to be frank, Dean was a little pissed. They needed him. Sam and Bobby needed him. Hell, Dean needed him. And Cas just… wasn’t there.

Sam, however, jumped – he’d never really gotten used to the angels running around like freaking Harry Potter. “Cas.”

“Sam,” he nodded, folding up his wings and stepping forward. “Dean.”

“It’s, uh…” Sam smiled, swallowing some form of emotion. The kid… Dean didn’t know whether to knock some sense into him, or be amused at his naivety and simple-mindedness. He really was like a child sometimes. “It’s great to see you, Cas. How have you been?”

How long had it been, he wondered. A week? A month? Time just seemed meaningless nowadays. And there was never enough of it.

“Busy,” the angel replied simply. “Dean, might I have a word with you?”

“Little busy myself right now, Cas,” he spat, still not looking up from his newspaper. “There’s a horde of demons about 20 miles from us right now thirsting for our blood, your freaking brother is somewhere else dicking around with reality, and Eve is leaving a trail of destruction for us to follow, but we still don’t know how to kill her. All of which you should know, if you could just do your goddamn job. Where the hell have you been?”

Cas sniffed. “Now isn’t a good time,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, now is not a good time, Cas. A week ago would have been a good time. Yesterday would have been a good time.”

“I can come back later, if that would be a better time for you.”

Dean grunted.

But the sound of wings never came. Instead, Dean reluctantly looked up from the table, to see a strange expression on Cas’ face.

Well, to be honest, anything other than that usual… mask… was strange. But, even if Cas had been a normal human, this expression would still be disconcerting. His entire face had slackened, his mouth drooping open, and his eyes fluttered… Then they slammed shut, and his upper body jerked forward.

Ixt! Ik’ishoo!

“Was that a sneeze?” Sam asked with a grin.

Ixt! Ixt! ISH’oo!

“Alright, alright, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Dean told him with a sigh. Cas… didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. He wasn’t entirely sure the angel even breathed. Sneezing was… definitely strange…

“Are you sick, Cas?” Sam placed a hand on his back, guiding him to sit down on the bed.

Cas stared at him. “I’m an angel, Sam.” His glare and the authority he tried to convey, however, was lost as he scrunched up his nose again, snapping forwards. “Ixt! I… ISHOO!

Dean shook his head. Things were definitely getting weird around here… And Dean was a Winchester. He knew weird better than cold Chinese takeout for breakfast.

Cas didn’t look well, though, now he actually took the time to take in appearance. His nose was red and a little shiny, and his face seemed much paler than normal… Even less human. And then there was the fact that the whole still-as-a-Greek-statue had completely fallen on its ass.

He couldn’t help but want to help him.

“Cas, I’m sorry, but… since when do angels sneeze?”

“Is that what you call this sensation?” the angel asked. “It’s rather unpleasant.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” Dean agreed with a grimace… Sneezing wasn’t exactly something he was unfamiliar with. “Are you sick? You didn’t really answer the question.”

Cas looked at him. “I’m an angel, Dean. Ixt! Ixt!

“Damn it, Cas.” He thumped the table in frustration. “Be straight with us for once.”

“Well… Perhaps my vessel is… what is the saying?... a little under the weather,” he admitted. “Actually, that’s what I came here to ask you about.”

Sam frowned. “Cas… Aren’t you an angel? Don’t you have, like, healing powers or something?”

Cas rubbed his nose. “Yes. Only it doesn’t seem to work on ourselves.”

“So what did you want to ask us about?”

“I, er…” The angel, rather uncharacteristically, faltered. “I wanted to know if you could help me.”

“Help you how?” Sam caught Dean’s eyes. They didn’t know before that it was possible for an angel to sneeze, or get sick. What exactly could they be expected to do?

Ixt! Ikshoo!

“Bless you.”

Cas frowned. “Your words are meaningless. My father will not bestow any blessings unless you ask in the proper manner.”

“You mean… like, spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch, getting down on the whole one knee thing?” Sam asked.

But Dean shook his head. He forgot sometimes how… foreign and strange and, well, human a lot of their rituals, for want of a better term, were. “Bless you is what we say when you sneeze, Cas,” he explained.

“Oh.” Cas’ expression never changed. “So what is the correct response?”

Sam smiled. “Uh… Thanks, I guess?”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean passed him a Kleenex.

Cas took it in his hand, but stared at him.

“You clean your nose with it,” he told him gently. “You’ve seen me blow my nose before, right?”

“Oh. Yes.” He scrubbed the underside of his nose with the tissue. “I’m sorry, my head doesn’t seem to be working properly at the moment.”

“No problem,” Sam said. “So, how exactly can we help you?”

Cas blew his nose before turning the tissue over in his hands, uncertain of what he was expected to do with it now. “There’s this… sensation in my nose and my head and my eyes, and I wasn’t sure what it was.”

"You haven't been sick before?" Sam asked.

"No."

“Is it like a prickling?” Dean asked, raising a hand to the angel’s forehead. He didn’t think it felt warm…

“Yes,” he said, glancing at Dean’s hand like it could tell the future. “A prickling sensation. Like my head has turned into cotton wool soaked in water that someone is trying to wring out. It’s rather unpleasant, and it’s distracting me from my duties.”

“So you wanted to know if you could do anything about it?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded. “Yes. Ick’shoo!

“Bless,” Dean said. “Well, I hate to tell you, Cas, but there’s no magic cure for the cold. You just hafta… sneeze it out. Let it run its course…”

“I understand.” Cas nodded, but sounded like a puppy that had been vamp food, then kicked to hell, and had just crawled out the gates to be run over by an angel in an impala just across the road from home.

Dean… actually felt bad for the poor thing.

Apparently Sam did too. “Just… stay here, Cas. I’ll make you some tea. There’s tissues by the bed. Do you sleep?”

He shook his head… before raising a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry, I… I think I’m going to sneeze again.”

Dean passed him a handful of tissues. “It’s okay,” he said, staring at the angel before rubbing his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Humanity kinda sucks, huh?”

“Am I… Is Jimmy… dying?”

“What?” Sam turned to glare at him. “What did you say, Dean?”

“Nothing.” Dead returned the glare to Sam… but Cas still looked scared. “No, Cas, you’re not dying. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Ixt! Ixt! Ixchoo!

“Bless you.”

Cas curled up a little, a shiver passing through his body. “I amb sorry, Deand.”

“Hey, we all get sick,” he told him. “You’ll be alright.”

“I’mb sorry for everything,” he continued. “I have mbade mbandy mbistakes.”

“Cas, this isn’t karma.” He grabbed the angel’s wrists. “It’s a virus.”

Cas sniffed. “Why did mby father create those parasites?”

“We’d all like to know,” Sam said, setting a steaming mug by the bedside table and sitting on the other side of the angel. “Now, drink your tea and get some rest, alright? And you’ll feel better soon.”

Ixt! Ish!

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.”

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LOL Steph (can I call you that?), you and your doting

also, I have no idea what went down here but I LIKE IT LOTS. Somehow, sick angels are just adorable. "I am an angel." :D

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glue: Sneezy!Cas is something special... He really is adorable! There should be more fics for him :-)

Emily: You can call me anything you'd like - I'll even answer to Hey You :P But Steph is my name, so you're more than welcome to call me that :P I mean, I call you Emily! :P And, I think Cas in general is adorable, but him sick is just so... strange and vulnerable... :-)

Akahana: OMG I actually kinda grinned like an idiot for like a minute when I saw you'd commented... And, like I said to everyone else... Cas is adorable... I think I might try write him more :-)

Okay, this has been keeping me up awhile... Again, it's a new fandom, so, if you;re familiar, I'd love to get feedback.

It's Community - and it's told from Abed's perspective. His voice can be quite... versatile, but, it's first person, and, well... go read rather than listen to me ramble about it.

But, seriously - someone tell me why there is not more Community on here??? Because, HOMG, Joel McHale...

But, here you are: another story!

Prompt: Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana – although I have the 2 Cellos version. Nommies.)

Fandom: Community

Characters: Abed, Jeff

Words: 1,578

If Abed prided himself on one thing, it was…

Nah. It’s too clichéd an opening… and self-absorbed.

Once upon a time…

No. Come on, Abed. You don’t need clichés to fall back on. And stop referring to yourself in third person. You sound like the Todd, in Scrubs. And you are more important than comedic relief.

No. I am more important than comedic relief.

I’m drawing a blank.

Well, it looks like I’m stuck with clichés for my story today.

It all started in the first class of the day. I could sense something was wrong with Jeff the minute he arrived. He was late – which wasn’t unsurprising. But he was slouching, with dark shadows under his eyes, and every couple of minutes he would sniff or raise a hand to his nose or cheeks. He looked like Beetlejuice.

I wasted no time in telling him.

“Jeff, you look like Beetlejuice.”

He just looked at me. Perhaps, after three years, he was used to my insanity and had learnt to ignore it. Perhaps he was just too tired to come up with any sort of retort.

Either way, I knew it would come to drastic measures.

Luckily for me though, Britta had also noticed.

“Wow, does someone look hungover?” She said, unnecessarily loudly. She had a habit of doing that.

“Wow, does someone look jealous I have a social life?”

“Not if it means a morning spent kneeling over a toilet bowl, I’m not,” she laughed with raised eyebrow. “You know what I had for breakfast this morning?” she continued, still trying to rib him. “A big, fat, greasy sausage, smothered in slimy baked beans.”

“Yummy.” Jeff mimed vomiting. “And, Britta, I think you’re doing it wrong if it’s slimy. Plus, aren’t you a vegetarian?”

“Vegetarian sausage,” she corrected herself. “And, did I mention how incredible it smelt, all the onion and the cheese… and the fat frying…?”

“Stop, Britta – I’m actually not hungover, so what you’re doing won’t work, and, what’s more, you’re just making Star-burns horny.”

They were about to start bickering like the old married couple we all know they are, when it happened.

It started with Jeff breaking off mid-sentence to stare into space. His jaws slackened and his mouth dropped open like Fats in Magic. Then he raised his hands to cover his mouth and nose, and twisted himself away from Britta as he bent forward and sneezed.

Hehihh’ESHH’UH!

“Bless you, Jeff,” I said to him.

Britta had jumped, but like Catwoman she wasted no time in digging into her opponent. “Aww, is wittle Jeffie sick?” she cooed.

“I’m not sick!” he said.

“You are so,” she said… probably just for the sake of it. We all know Britta likes the sound of her own voice.

“No, I’m… I’m not… hihh’ESH’umphhh!... I’m not sick.”

“But you’re not well, are you, Jeff?” I had to ask… the temptation to complete the lyric was too great.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not Harvey Danger, Abed.”

But the more he spoke, the more convinced we all became that he was. He was sniffing constantly, like a dog near raw meat. His words became more and more congested, and his voice started to become hoarse.

I wanted to see how long it would take for him to break.

**************************************************

Then, later that day, in our study session, it happened again.

Hih’YESH’UH! Hih…hhh… hih… ESH’oo!

“Oh, my! Bl-bless you, Jeffrey!”

Shirley, as always, played the role of the caring, concerned mother. She dug around in her oversized bag – and I was tempted to crawl underneath the table, like the kid in Mary Poppins. I could see us all shrinking to miniscule size and being transported into the bag… the adventures we’d have…

But this isn’t the story of my imagination. This is the story of Jeff. What actually happened.

And what happened, was Shirley emerging with a packet of Kleenex. “Here you go, Jeffrey. Are you alright?”

He took the packet from her wordlessly, a lone soldier, not one to share his burden with the rest of us.

“Man, why can’t my sneezes be like that?” Troy asked.

“Well, I can give you this cold that you all assume I have, which I don’t actually, and then we can train you so that you may go forth and teach your children and your children’s children and your freaky third cousin’s ferret how to be more secure in some element of his life that he has no control over,” Jeff said as he threw his crumpled tissue in the bin.

“Oh, you are so sick,” Britta came in again.

This set off the entire group. Annie had jumped back a little from the table, though she had on the eyes she wore when looking at sad puppies. Shirley and Britta both began cooing, and Troy muttered to himself about being sick and ‘masculine’ sneezes. Pearce took Jeff’s side – probably because he’d been sick last week and everyone had pretended not to notice – which then turned into an argument between himself and Shirley.

I just watched, pulling a packet of popcorn from my bag. Group arguments always fascinate me.

Finally, Jeff had had enough. “Guys? Hey, guys?”

But his voice was too quiet, so only I, the one true observer, noticed.

“Hey now, hey now!” He said a little louder.

So of course I was obligated to respond with, “Don’t dream it’s over.”

He looked at me tiredly. I could see his eyes were even darker than before. Like that time when he was living out of his car. “Abed? Shut up.”

“And drive?”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m lonely.”

“Stop!”

“In the name of love!”

“No, that’s actually Pride, by U2.”

“No, it’s a song by The Supremes.”

He looked at me, and I saw the realisation hit his eyes. “Dammit!”

It was so close. Victory was near mine. “Growing up!”

Hih’TSH’uh! Hih… hhESH’oo!

I almost felt sorry for him… but he was my opponent. I couldn’t show any signs of faltering or weakness. They would only give him false hope that I would relent in any sort of battle of pop culture references.

I may not be normal, but I am no monster.

Jeff grunted, coughed, then sat down heavily in his chair, nose buried in another Kleenex.

I was distracted momentarily, when Annie came over, I think to use me as a shield from Jeff’s germs, and tugged my sleeve. “Abed, I think he’s really sick. Don’t be mean… You better stop.”

But I was on a roll. “Before you tear me all apart.”

Then Jeff cleared his throat and looked up at me, his eyes rimmed red. Was he about to admit defeat? “What would it take for you to stop?”

… I couldn’t turn that into a lyric. But, a wise man knows how to play his cards. I still had one more. “For you to admit you’re sick.”

“Abed, I am asking you as your friend – please, please, set me free.”

“Unchain my heart.” I frowned at him. “That was deliberate.”

“And you just spoke out of lyric!”

Dammit, he was right!

But his face had changed again – another sneeze was brewing. And I wasn’t finished. I decided to wait out the storm.

Hhh… hehhiieehh… heh-NGDJTCH!

“Bless you again, Jeffrey!”

Shirley and Pearce stopped arguing, and Britta and Troy were sitting at the table, watching us as Jeff cleared out his nose. Britta was biting her lip – her inner battle face… then she raised her hand to his forehead.

“Well, you don’t have a fever, at least,” she said with a small smile.

“Probably because to have a fever you have to be sick,” Jeff replied with a sigh. “And, for the last time – I’m not sick!”

“Well, if you’re not sick,” Britta said, her I-know-I’m-going-to-win-this-argument smile plastered on her face. “Smell this.” She held out her arm, her wrist near Jeff’s nose… and we all knew she had won.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

We all just stared at him.

“Ugh. Fine.” He bent down, his nose a couple of inches from her arm, and sniffed deeply. Then his nostrils flared and he pushed her arm away. “It smells like… like… heh… smells like… heh… hiiih… hehhhh…

“Like teen spirit?” I asked.

Annie hit me.

But our eyes remained glued to Jeff. He leant far back in his chair, hands clapped over his face and nose, and he stared into the light like he expected ET to fall out of it and tickle him with a feather. Plot twist! And, finally, after exactly 23 seconds of grunting and groaning and hitching breaths, he snapped forward.

Hiihh’ESH’oo! … Heh’TSHHH’oo! Heh’TSH! Heh… eh… Ha’YESHH’UH!

“Still think you’re not sick?” Britta asked as she passed him the tissue box from the centre of the table.

Jeff nodded. “Your perfume smells of frangipani,” he said, his voice cracking, “which I happen to be allergic to.” He stood up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to get some drugs… Sorry, Annie.”

“What about this morning?” Britta asked…

“I know it’s hard to believe, guys, but I won’t directly lie to you. I. Am. Not. Sick.”

“But you’re not well,” Annie said – apparently my references were catching.

He didn’t turn around. He just kept walking towards the door. “Blow me.”

“One last kiss,” we all shouted out the door.

The last thing we saw of Jeff that day, was his back and his finger waving in the air.

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Pop culture references, oh lord :rofl:

The last thing we saw of Jeff that day, was his back and his finger waving in the air.

And which finger would that be? :D Heheh

But anywaaaay, yes, please. EXPOSE ME TO MORE INTERESTING FANDOMS

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OK THAT WAS THE MOST AWESOMETASTIC DRABBLE I HAVE EVER READ!!!!! I was so completely amused through the whole thing and the references were SO FUNNY!!!! XD God damn I love Nirvana, and I am TOTALLY going to start playing that game with my friends now~ :D This was so amazing...just...AHGUGSYAGYDFGVGSUGVAF :D :D :D :D

Keep it up girl~ <33333

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Emily: O.o I AM INNOCENT... Yeah right... tonguesmiley.gif Hahaha but, okay, I shall continue to expose you! Though Community you really do have to see for yourself. Warblers you can get away with because I think the most anyone other than Kurt or Blaine has ever spoken is like 5 lines. But there is no way that I would ever be able to come even close to imitating the awesomeness that is Community. Or White Collar, but I think Neal Caffrey is... quite possibly the sexiest most attractive most wonderful character to ever grace our TV screens tonguesmiley.gif

AlroFairy: HOMG YES. Yes, they are. IT'S NOT FAIR!!! tonguesmiley.gif

Akahana: Ahhhhh thank you!!! I'm definitely going to try to write for more Community. And, HOMG, pop references. I was writing that thinking, 'Man I'm getting rusty!!!' But that actually is a REALLY fun game to play - I'd definitely recommend playing it with people - though a lot of my friends get a tad pissed off when I just start speaking in lyrics tonguesmiley.gif But thank you!!!

Alright, time for some more Supernatural. Just, because tonguesmiley.gif Same thing stands - getting the hang of voices and the such. Also, this was really hard to write without descending into smut... But I hope it's okay... :-)

Also, TOTALLY FINISHED EXAMS! biggrin.png WOOHOO LET US ALL CELEBRATE AND EAT CAKE AND BE MERRY biggrin.pngbiggrin.pngbiggrin.png

I'm working a metric craptonne... actually, it's not too bad, it's only 4-5 shifts a week at the moment, but still.. working. But, no more study, so definitely more time available for writing :-)

And, here we go!

Prompt: Light Up the World – Glee Cast

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Destiel… yep, totally going for the slash thing here. Oh, dear lord.

Words: 1,076. This number seems familiar…

After Cas had absorbed… whatever the hell it was… from Sam, taken away all those broken and tormented parts of soul and… eaten them or put them to rest or shoved them up his ass or whatever it was he did with it… something in him changed.

It wasn’t always a bad thing… Sure, they’d been too worried at the time, but his lightbulb trick had actually been kinda funny in retrospect. And, yeah, sure, the psychotic breaks and the constantly flitting around was… annoying… but, at the same time, he was much lighter and happier now.

At least, Dean tried to convince himself of that. It was this, and only this, that kept him from trying to mutilate the blasted angel whenever he stuck around longer than five minutes.

But, then again… having a very fallen angel… may have had its perks. Like the current position in which Dean had found himself.

Cas had flitted into the room, completely innocent of the Winchester’s (and Meg’s) latest predicament. He had that goofy smile on his face – the one they’d learn to associate with some Buddhist revelation… that always made Dean wonder whether he’d used his own wings or just flown Mexican airlines in… He’d stood in front of the table Dean was sitting at, bounced up and down for a bit, then pulled out the chair opposite him.

“Hi, Dean!”

He didn’t look up. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas… didn’t quite laugh, but it wasn’t really a chuckle or a giggle or any other words Dean could think of to associate with it. He was obviously quite amused… but the motion, the exact coordination of muscles required to laugh was still too foreign, too thought-out. But, whatever it was, Cas was letting out some form of sound of mirth that, together with his bouncing leg, was actually beginning to make Dean seasick.

“Do you have something to say? Or you just gonna sit there awhile?”

Cas grinned. “Did you know that the human nose can expel debris at the speed of 100 miles an hour? And that there’s usually 100,000 different life forms in that?”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s called sneezing, Cas. Did you just find this out now…?”

“I was talking to the bees.”

“Ah.” Of course. The bees. Again.

“They really are remarkable creatures. So small, yet so vital. So intelligent.”

Dean sighed. “So, the mice are out to get us then?”

Cas frowned. “What?”

Ugh. Apparently he hadn’t been educated in Hitchhiker’s yet. “Nothing.”

“Okay then.” Cas’ grin had momentarily faltered… but then it had bounced back onto his face like a ball attached to a bat by a string of elastic, his leg once again shaking like California. “Guess what I learned?”

How to be an inconsiderate brat? Dean muttered under his breath. How to backstab your friends? How to royally screw over the entire world? But, instead, with some sort of patience that must have been a God-given gift because, damn it, it was not natural, he smiled at the angel like he was a small child. “What did you learn?”

Cas… chuckled again… then screwed up his nose. “Heh… heh’k’ESH’oo!

“Bless you.” Dean frowned. Was that normal?

Cas grinned… then sneezed again.

“So… what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Cas stared at him, his whole face lit up. “Heh… ITISHH’uh!

It took the third sneeze for it to click. Cas… had taught himself, apparently, how to ‘expel debris at the speed of 100 miles an hour’ from his nose.

And, what’s more… Dean couldn’t help but… focus in on him. On how his whole face actually seemed to become illuminated, like his eyes had turned into mini LEDs. How his nostrils flared, and he started sucking in breath, and his chest just seemed to swell… Hell, Dean didn’t know what it was… whether the anticipation or the desperation or just the fact that he seemed so damned pleased with himself but… well…

Cas looked down at Dean’s waist. “Should I do it again?”

Dean had to bite his lip. Dammit, this was not what he needed right now… Not with Sam due back any minute. Not with the whole freaking world about to end. Looking after Cas was one thing… amusing himself with him was something else entirely.

Heh… hyehh… ha… he-tisshh’uh-TISHH’uh!

Dammit, Cas.

Heh… Ixt! Ik’ISHH’oo!

And he’d learnt to stifle.

“I… I neehhh… I need…”

“Alright, Cas,” Dean grunted. “Very, uh… very nice. Good skill to have.”

Ixt! Ixt! ISHOO!

Dean moaned. Alright? He freaking moaned. He sat there, watching this… angel… stand in front of him, purposefully making himself lose control, every sneeze seeming to bring more light to the world around them.

“Does this make you happy?”

Dean shook his head, trying to break himself back into reality… Sam… Meg… Dick… Bobby…

“Should I stop?”

Dean somehow managed to force a nod… he thought.

Or maybe not… Cas’ nostrils once again began flaring, as he took one of Dean’s hands, placing it against his chest… He could feel all the muscles tighten, feel more air flowing in, being held there…

“Cas…” he whispered, weakly.

KESH’OO!

There was a flash of light, and a bolt of warmth sprung from the skin, passing up from Dean’s hand, conducted like it would up a metal rod.

Hishoo!

The whole room lit this time, like a lightning bolt. Their own private firework show.

Heh… Hi…

“Cas… Did you know… that when you sneeze, you glow?”

Izzzzktchoo!

“Yeah, you could light up the whole freaking world that way.” Dean slammed his eyes shut as the next surge of energy burst from the angel… Though nearly getting blinded had its benefits, as he was instantly removed from that… state, and brought straight back to reality. Of the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Or, if not the weight, than at least all hope for the freaking planet.

Apparently it woke something in Cas too. He stepped back, dropping Dean’s hand. For a minute he looked dazed, confused, like someone just after waking, when discerning what did and did not happened, what is and is not real. Then, his eyes focused on Dean. “I am sorry, Dean. That was… improper.”

Dean snorted. “Look, I’m not complaining. But… time and a place.”

“It will not happen again.”

Dean shrugged… before breaking into an ironic grin. “Alright then. Time to focus on.. uh...Richard. Remind me again how to kill a Leviathan?”

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Have you been hiding your sense of humor all this time, only unleashing it the recent weeks? :rofl: The sarcastic tone, the naughtiness of this whole scenario, it's all so beautiful and I'm kind of dying here in front of my screen halfway across the world from you. Also Cas, that made me happy too do it again

LOL One day I'll get around to catching up with all these popular TV shows. The only thing I watch on television is My Little Ponies every Saturday. :lol: I always feel so out of the loop when people start talking about the latest episode of Glee or something and I'm just like ; A ; I'VE WATCHED MULAN RECENTLY LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT. Also, I just searched Neal Caffrey and I am such a sucker for men in suits that I melted right there. I always thought that the guy who played Clark Kent in Smallville was really cute back in the day.

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oh mai god CAS!!!!! He's just so CUTE!!!! I mean, he can MAKE himself sneeze? Just through sheer force of will? THAT is impressive, Cas is a good student!! XD Great fic girl~ :D <3333333

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  • 1 month later...

pinknose: Cas sneezing is just... *melts* He's so adorable.

Emily: Hahaha maybe, maybe. I like to think I have a sense of humour, anyhow. And I speak very fluent sarcasm. My parents hate me for it... though I still claim it's better than no sense of humour at all :P OMG My Little Pony I remember watching that!!! Apparently they have the most loyal fanbase of all... If it makes you feel better, I recently went to DreamWorld up in Queensland - I did some rides, but instead of going to the Big Brother house like most people *coughQUEENSLANDERScough* do... I went, with two best friends, to Wiggly World! We got to ride the Big Red Car and go on Dorothy's Tea Cups... and we're all 21. It was aMAzing... if hilarious and kinda humiliating :P Oh, and Matt Bomer wasn't the Smallville guy (don't remember his name), though they look insanely similar. But, seriously, very highly recommend watching both Community and White Collar. Especially White Collar because Neal and men in suits and solving crimes and HE'S AN ARTIST and the SEXIEST character on TV ever (and I watch Supernatural too, keep in mind!) and fedora and yes go watch :P

AdamToiRB: Thank you! Sorry for taking so long to update...

Akahana: Thank you! Ah, Cas. He's such an angel... I'm not sure how he managed to teach himself yet though. I might have to write this at a later date...

Okay, so, it's been AGES since I updated... Exams, and then working essentially full-time (they tried to get me to work 11 hours today... I convinced them that 7 on Christmas Day would suffice!), and I've also been on a week's break which was aMAzing and I got my licence... so, pretty much, I've been ridiculously busy.

I have more Supernatural for you :D I meant to get this out before my Chrissy started, but I worked yesterday and I've jsut been, well, busy (am I getting repetitive? I'm getting repetitive) BUT I think it's vaguely on time for the US (where I assume a large portion of you guys are from) so I guess this is just going to be my slightly belated present to the forum!

Happy holidays, everyone!!!

Prompt: Hold On (Olly Murs)

Fandom: … I had to try Supernatural. Again. Dean is just too much fun to write for :P

Characters: Sam, Dean (allergy), Cas

To be completely honest, Dean had never really got the whole Christmas thing.

When he was young, he’d wonder who this Jesus kid was, and why he was so important that everyone else got presents on his birthday. Sometimes he’d wonder what he’d have to do, to have a worldwide holiday on his birthday, and if all he needed was to just tell everyone to give each other gifts or if he had to pull a baby from a fire… despite the fact he’d already fulfilled that requirement. Sometimes he’d think back to his Mom, and he’d see kids smiling and singing and being happy with their families… but Dean didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about that all.

So instead, it turned into… not quite a hatred of the season. He wasn’t a Grinch – his heart, last time he checked, was definitely the right size… even if they could never be certain whose heart it actually was. No, it was more of an ignorance. If he didn’t recognise it, it didn’t exist.

Of course, Christmas was like Trouble, and he could only count his lucky stars that it wasn’t a freaking god. Every year, something just had to happen to not only remind them that apparently 2,000 years ago someone had been born (whoop-dee-doo) but also, that they were never going to even get a glimmer of hope that their lives could be whatever the hell ‘normal’ was anyway.

The first thing that sprung to mind was Ozzie and Harriet. Then there was the year that Gabe had decided to visit them both as the Ghosts of Christmas (and, salt didn’t work on angels or tricksters, as they’d discovered). Perhaps most memorable was a few years back, when some lunatic that had managed to rope a heap of Vulkodlak to his ‘home’ and go riding around like Santa Claus, mowing down or even turning everything in his path.

All this considered, Dean honestly didn’t think he could hate Christmas any more than he did right this very second.

He didn’t know how it had happened. Probably it was Sam trying to play a trick… or else, he’d been reading too much fanfiction from Chuck’s series (and Dean wasn’t going to even think how creepy it was reading fanfic about yourself) but, point being, he’d started to ‘ship’ ‘Destiel’. So, maybe Sam was just… being an evil son-of-a-reindeer.

Dean didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

So, completely unaware, he’d walked through a doorframe.

“Hold on!” Sam pointed above his head. “Dean, look! Mistletoe!”

“Really, Sammy?” Dean rolled his eyes and went to take a step forward… but couldn’t. He sighed. “Did you plant this here?”

“Do you actually think I’d be juvenile enough to plant it there? Dean, I’m not 16 any more.”

He grunted.

“Come on. Keep moving.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I can’t,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“I can’t move.” He waved a hand out the doorframe, fine – but when he stuck a foot out, it hit a glass wall. “See?”

“I didn’t realise you could mime,” Sam said with a grin. “But cut it out. Wendigo on the prowl, remember?”

Dean groaned. “Sam, look around. Can you see any pretty girls? So who would I be waiting for underneath this freaking thing?”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“There’s no way in hell you’re getting near my mouth!” Dean spat… honestly offended by the idea. Speaking of fanfiction… He really hoped Becky wasn’t behind this again.

“Guess you’re stuck then.” Sam laughed.

“Guess so,” Dean huffed, before groaning inwardly… his nose had started crawling. Whether it was dust or pollen or fairy juice, he had no idea… but there was no denying that an allergy was starting to rear its head. “Heh… HrrUSH’OO!

Sam just laughed harder.

NGTJCH’uh! TDZ-CHOO!

Sam snorted. “You right there?”

Heh’KUSH’UH!

“Bless you! You okay?”

Dean sniffed, rubbing his nose. “I’m stuck in a doorjamb and allergic. What do you think, Sammy?”

“Jeez. Someone’s cranky.”

“I’m stuck under freaking mistletoe like a teenage girl. HNGTCH’UH!

“Bless.” Sam ventured forward a little to look at the plant, like a human might a starved lion. “There must be some sort of curse… but I’d be willing to hedge a bet that kissing will end it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Great. Wanna go find me… KUSH!... find me some hot chick to come rescue me?”

Sam plucked up the box of Kleenex from the bedside table and threw it over. “Keys. I’ll go get you some antihistamines.”

“Thanks,” he gave begrudgingly, as he threw the keys to his baby over, blinking through his tear-blurred eyes. “And Sam?”

His brother turned back, keys already jangling in his pocket.

“Get me some pie too, wouldja?”

There was a huff that turned into hysterical laughter as soon as the door had shut… but Dean didn’t focus on that. It wasn’t like Sam would actually get pie – he never remembered… though he might score a donut if he was lucky. One with plenty of icing sugar, like angel dust… which immediately made him stop and think.

“Cas!”

With a whirring of wings, the angel appeared. “Dean.”

NnnGRASHshh’uh!

“Bless you.” Cas stepped towards Dean, completely unaware of the mistletoe hanging above him… His eyes narrowed in concern for his friend, and he meant only to heal. Unfortunately, though, Dean was rather distracted in the sense that fluid was pouring from his eyes and he couldn’t actually see out… and, soon enough, Cas had also found himself stuck inside the forcefield of the plant. “Well now, this is odd.”

Dean jumped. “Jesus, Cas!”

“We appear to be trapped underneath some plant…”

“Yahtzee.”

“I don’t understand what a board game has to do with our situation.”

Dean groaned. Of course. “Look, Cas, I… uh…”

Was he blushing? Was Dean Winchester, keeper of infinite prowess over women everywhere, actually getting embarrassed? Over something so small as cursed mistletoe?

The spell must have turned him into a teenage girl somehow.

“Humans have this custom where, if you meet under mistletoe, you have to kiss.”

“Why?” Cas shook his head. “You really are strange creatures.”

“You’re telling me.” He sighed, briefly explaining the situation – how now both of them were stuck there, how he was so blaming Sam for somehow invoking the curse (after all, he’d walked through the door seconds before without any mishap – it must have been the ‘hold on’ that activated it), how they… had to kiss to escape?

“Oh, is that all?” Cas asked, frowning. “It’s surprising – my father never actually commented on relationships of a homosexual nature. Did you think I would have an issue with this? We angels are trained to love everyone equally, you see.”

Dean just shook his head.

“Dean, I think you are the more practised of the two of us.” Cas stared at him, deep into him.

“Oh. Right.” He still hadn’t gotten over his surprise at Cas’… eagerness. “Hold on.” He turned aside, sneezing twice into his hand… Then he turned back, hand reaching out to cup Cas’ jaw (well, if he had to do this, he was going to do it properly!). He inched closer, staring into those eyes, stomach squirming and he ignoring it (because he was not in love with an angel, no, Dean was not, this was crazy, maybe the mistletoe cast a spell on those underneath as well). Slowly, carefully (this might be Cas’ first kiss!) he brought his mouth down, placing his lips on top of Cas’.

And there time stopped. There’d been a crackle as the two met, and Dean hungered for more. He leant in, deepening it, tongue slipping through the crack and bumping into Cas’, tracing his teeth, his mouth, and, oh, God, angels really did taste like angel cakes and… He snaked an arm around Cas’ waist, pulled him in tighter, right up against his body. Cas stiffened initially, but relaxed, allowing himself to let go a little of his usual discipline and fold into Dean’s arms.

Dean could have stayed this way for hours, exploring this (Cas’) mouth and just holding this insane creature…

“Wow.” There was a clearing of the throat, and the two broke apart as they both jumped out the doorframe. Sam was back.

The magic had broken though… the fuel in his nose, that had disappeared during their kiss, suddenly relit itself. “GUTCH’uh! NDJITCH’uh!

“Bless you,” Cas offered, brushing himself off.

Sam smiled. “I see what’s going on here…”

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

“Only you could be allergic to mistletoe!” Sam threw him a box of Zyrtec. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you for not commenting on the situation in which you found us,” Cas said to him. “It would have made things quite awkward.”

Face-palm.

Dean, though, reached an arm up to Cas’ shoulder, not quite willing yet to break the connection between the two. But he looked at his brother with hungry eyes. “Hey, Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“You forgot the pie.”

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Honestly speaking, I will probably never start watching either even with the temptation of attractive men. So much to fangirl about, so little time! I recently downloaded a plethora of visual novels which will also occupy my time LOL #notgettinganysleep Well, there will be no shortage of Supernatural ever on this forum anyway, that's for sure so I'll be getting my healty dosage of Dean/Sam.

Also:

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“You forgot the pie.”

I was totally waiting for that punchline 8'D Poor Dean, no pie on Christmas. Hope you had a happy one by the way! :D

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I know this is extremely late but I just discovered you're the only person on this thread who has written about Community, so congrats. :D I love how you kept Abed's narration in character along with all the other character's interactions and even alluding to Troy's sneeze. LOL Poor Jeff, is stubbornness always gets in the way. Nice work!

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