![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Here, Have Some Castiel Ficlets
Aug. 29th, 2009 01:48 pmFandom: Supernatural
Title: Here, Have Some Castiel Ficlets
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Anna, Uriel, Zachariah
Category: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG13
Warning: (skip) Brief language
Spoilers: Through S4
Summary: Three tiny Castiel-centric fics.
Word Count: 1667
Disclaimer: This is my Father's world, but it's Kripke's playground.
Author’s Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
deancastiel, spnwriterlounge, and spngenlove. Oh, my angsty little angel. ♥
( Castiel and the other Angels (Uriel, Anna & Zachariah) reflect on Lucifers first fall. )
( Cas finds Dean laying unconscious on the floor after Sam almost choked him in 'When The Levee Breaks'. )
deancastiel)">
A Drift of Feathers (750 words, for the Warm & Fuzzy challenge at deancastiel)
"Dean, is your angel molting?"
Dean snapped his head up, holding the book firmly in his lap. He'd almost been startled into dropping it. "The hell?"
The irritation on Sam's face was pretty hilarious. "It's either that or Bobby suddenly owns a huge albino parrot." He held up a curly, fluffy feather, such a pure white that it almost hurt to look at. A really, really big feather, almost as long as Sam's gimundo arm.
Dean tilted his head, leaning forward before he was aware of doing it. He set the book aside and made a come-hither motion, and Sam huffed a breath into his bangs and handed over the feather. Dean held the quill in one hand and ran the other up the silky length. So soft...
"Seriously, dude, you gotta do something about Castiel. He's been kind of angelically moping ever since we ended up on the run together, and now we're all stuck in Bobby's house and I know it's frustrating and claustrophobic and uncomfortable and... And now he's molting. It's not healthy."
"I don't get it," Dean protested. "You can't even see the wings. Are you sure this isn't from a...uh...a really big chicken?"
Sam squinted at him. "There's a pile of them. And no, there are no chickens as big as barns anywhere around here."
Dean sighed and stood up, absently playing with the feather. "I'll talk to him. But you need to quit calling him 'my' angel. It just sounds really dumb."
"Whatever, man."
He found Castiel at the edge of the salvage yard perched on the roof of a pickup, watching the sunset with elbows on knees and chin on hands. Feathers sprinkled the ground around him and lay in a light, snowy drift in the bed of the truck, and Dean's heart twisted in his chest. How long had the guy been just sitting there, staring into space?
"Hey!" He hopped up to sit on the hood of the truck, looking up into the angel's morose face. "What's up, doc?"
Castiel stared straight ahead, still as a statue, unblinking.
"Hey," Dean said again. He grabbed Castiel's foot and gave it a shake. "Pay attention to me."
Very, very slowly, Castiel glanced down at him. "I always pay attention to you."
Dean looked away, suddenly aching. "I know. Never mind. What's going on with you?"
"I am...nothing."
"Don't blow me off," Dean said, irritated now. "C'mon. You're...you're molting. I woulda thought that was impossible."
"It's merely a manifestation of..." He blew out a short breath and turned his head away. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does. Tell me, or I'll keep pestering you until you do. You know I will."
Castiel said nothing. Dean started poking his knee. "Pester, pester, pester."
But the droopy angel didn't rise to it. His voice and eyes were dull. "Why do you care?"
Dean couldn't speak for a moment. "What?"
"You haven't even looked at me in five days. Why now?"
"I..." Dean paused. "Five days? Seriously?"
"And some odd hours." He was doing his head-tilt thing, studying Dean with such gravity that Dean felt that he must crumble under the pressure.
"I haven't..." Dean cleared his throat. "Cas, I haven't exactly... I'm not really great company right now. I, uh, now that I think about it, I haven't really been spending any time with Sam or Bobby either. I've been..." He'd been reading. Oh, God, when did Dean Winchester turn into a bookworm?
"You've been avoiding me," Castiel said in that wise, infuriating tone, knowing too much and too little at once.
"I've been avoiding everything," Dean admitted, finally. And when did Dean Winchester turn into a wimp, too? Last year...forty years ago...he never would have done this, never would have buried his head in the ground, hidden in a corner to lick his wounds. Facing things head on, that was always Dean's way. Had been. Always had been his way.
Dean missed himself, abruptly, with a huge aching gape in his chest. And so he knew what Castiel had been feeling, too. And probably Sam and Bobby as well.
"I'm sorry."
Castiel tilted his head even further, utterly confused.
Dean cleared his throat and said it again, louder. "I'm sorry. I won't avoid you anymore. Just...try to stop molting, okay? It's really unnerving."
The angel glanced around himself, saw the sheer number of feathers lying there. He smiled, sweet and sudden. "I'll try."
It was all they could ask for.
(End)
Title: Here, Have Some Castiel Ficlets
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Anna, Uriel, Zachariah
Category: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG13
Warning: (skip) Brief language
Spoilers: Through S4
Summary: Three tiny Castiel-centric fics.
Word Count: 1667
Disclaimer: This is my Father's world, but it's Kripke's playground.
Author’s Note: For
deancastiel, spnwriterlounge, and spngenlove. Oh, my angsty little angel. ♥( Castiel and the other Angels (Uriel, Anna & Zachariah) reflect on Lucifers first fall. )
( Cas finds Dean laying unconscious on the floor after Sam almost choked him in 'When The Levee Breaks'. )
deancastiel)">A Drift of Feathers (750 words, for the Warm & Fuzzy challenge at deancastiel)"Dean, is your angel molting?"
Dean snapped his head up, holding the book firmly in his lap. He'd almost been startled into dropping it. "The hell?"
The irritation on Sam's face was pretty hilarious. "It's either that or Bobby suddenly owns a huge albino parrot." He held up a curly, fluffy feather, such a pure white that it almost hurt to look at. A really, really big feather, almost as long as Sam's gimundo arm.
Dean tilted his head, leaning forward before he was aware of doing it. He set the book aside and made a come-hither motion, and Sam huffed a breath into his bangs and handed over the feather. Dean held the quill in one hand and ran the other up the silky length. So soft...
"Seriously, dude, you gotta do something about Castiel. He's been kind of angelically moping ever since we ended up on the run together, and now we're all stuck in Bobby's house and I know it's frustrating and claustrophobic and uncomfortable and... And now he's molting. It's not healthy."
"I don't get it," Dean protested. "You can't even see the wings. Are you sure this isn't from a...uh...a really big chicken?"
Sam squinted at him. "There's a pile of them. And no, there are no chickens as big as barns anywhere around here."
Dean sighed and stood up, absently playing with the feather. "I'll talk to him. But you need to quit calling him 'my' angel. It just sounds really dumb."
"Whatever, man."
He found Castiel at the edge of the salvage yard perched on the roof of a pickup, watching the sunset with elbows on knees and chin on hands. Feathers sprinkled the ground around him and lay in a light, snowy drift in the bed of the truck, and Dean's heart twisted in his chest. How long had the guy been just sitting there, staring into space?
"Hey!" He hopped up to sit on the hood of the truck, looking up into the angel's morose face. "What's up, doc?"
Castiel stared straight ahead, still as a statue, unblinking.
"Hey," Dean said again. He grabbed Castiel's foot and gave it a shake. "Pay attention to me."
Very, very slowly, Castiel glanced down at him. "I always pay attention to you."
Dean looked away, suddenly aching. "I know. Never mind. What's going on with you?"
"I am...nothing."
"Don't blow me off," Dean said, irritated now. "C'mon. You're...you're molting. I woulda thought that was impossible."
"It's merely a manifestation of..." He blew out a short breath and turned his head away. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does. Tell me, or I'll keep pestering you until you do. You know I will."
Castiel said nothing. Dean started poking his knee. "Pester, pester, pester."
But the droopy angel didn't rise to it. His voice and eyes were dull. "Why do you care?"
Dean couldn't speak for a moment. "What?"
"You haven't even looked at me in five days. Why now?"
"I..." Dean paused. "Five days? Seriously?"
"And some odd hours." He was doing his head-tilt thing, studying Dean with such gravity that Dean felt that he must crumble under the pressure.
"I haven't..." Dean cleared his throat. "Cas, I haven't exactly... I'm not really great company right now. I, uh, now that I think about it, I haven't really been spending any time with Sam or Bobby either. I've been..." He'd been reading. Oh, God, when did Dean Winchester turn into a bookworm?
"You've been avoiding me," Castiel said in that wise, infuriating tone, knowing too much and too little at once.
"I've been avoiding everything," Dean admitted, finally. And when did Dean Winchester turn into a wimp, too? Last year...forty years ago...he never would have done this, never would have buried his head in the ground, hidden in a corner to lick his wounds. Facing things head on, that was always Dean's way. Had been. Always had been his way.
Dean missed himself, abruptly, with a huge aching gape in his chest. And so he knew what Castiel had been feeling, too. And probably Sam and Bobby as well.
"I'm sorry."
Castiel tilted his head even further, utterly confused.
Dean cleared his throat and said it again, louder. "I'm sorry. I won't avoid you anymore. Just...try to stop molting, okay? It's really unnerving."
The angel glanced around himself, saw the sheer number of feathers lying there. He smiled, sweet and sudden. "I'll try."
It was all they could ask for.
(End)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
