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Birthday! & SPN - Not Your Standard Thank You Note
It's only 10:30 pm! It still totally counts as being posted on the same day!
Today is the great and wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
threnodyjones's birthday! Normally, I celebrate this day with obnoxious multi-colored text and maybe a Fringe reference or five. Instead, today, I am attempting to fulfill a less than whispered wish... for crack.
Dear Ms.threnodyjones, please feel free to add this to the really random and strange list of things you have managed to get me to do in your name...
Title: Not Your Standard Thank You Note
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Slash – implied Dean/Gabriel
Rating: R for language and less than subtle hints at sex
Length: ~850 words
Spoilers: Er, that there’s a character named Castiel and another one named Gabriel?
Synopsis: Dean is given a gift... of sorts.
Author’s Notes: For the dear, sweet,threnodyjones, who asked for SPN fic in which Dean gets the “best damn STD ever!” Happy birthday, my dear!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this. Dear deity of your choice, I am making no profit...
Dean woke up after sleeping the sleep of the well and truly fucked. He stretched a bit, and then stretched some more, but just could not work out that little kink right between his shoulder blades.
He tossed back the covers and stood, thankful that he had the piece of mind to pull on his boxers after last night's activities as he could already hear Sammy rummaging around outside. A glance around the room told him that his supposedly mythical companion had disappeared, not that this was really a surprise, leaving nothing but rumpled covers and a delicious ache behind.
Well, at least he would not have to explain that to Sammy, or see his disappointed glare, any time soon.
That sorted, he got back to business, which was to curl his toes into the matted carpeting, reach his arms upwards, and try to get that pesky spot in his back to pop.
It didn't budge.
He stood on the very tips of his toes and reached towards the textured ceiling, feeling the line of muscles connected like a fine thread ready to snap.
Still a no go.
The door opened and Sam stepped into the room just as the tension began to ease and that pesky knot finally felt like there was a chance it was going to give. It must have been windy outside because Dean felt a distinct breeze waft through the room, cooling down his admittedly over-warm body.
Sammy was babbling about something, likely about spending the night on some uncomfortable and unnecessary watch or saving puppies or something, but came to a complete and utter stop as he looked away from whatever it was he was fussing with and looked towards Dean's direction.
"Um," he said, less than intelligently.
"What?" Dean asked, still trying to get that one pesky spot. He twisted a bit to the left, and then back to the right.
"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked. He seemed to be looking at Dean, and somehow avoiding looking at him at the same time. There was a definite hint of the glare beginning to form.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, Sammy, when two people love each other very much, or possibly just really want a good..."
He was stopped from reaching his full level of snark by the arrival of Castiel. At least he was fairly certain it was Castiel if the expressionless expression was anything to go by.
"I see my brother has paid yet another visit," their visitor commented dryly. It was followed by a near immediate segue into some new and painful pending disaster.
"Wait," Dean cut him off with the wave of his hand. "There is no possible way you could know that. Unless, of course, you angels have some kinky little voyeurism streak going on and, still, you should really ask permission or warn a guy."
Sam tossed the plastic bag of something likely priceless and vital, or maybe Doritos, onto the tottering desk chair and shook his head. "It's fairly obvious, Dean, what with the feathers and everything. Either you are the victim of a new and extremely odd curse, or..."
"Or you had intimate relations with Gabriel in the preceding twenty-four hours," Castiel finished for him.
"What?" Dean asked, well and truly confused.
"Wings, Dean. You have wings," Sam spelled it out for him.
"No way!" Dean shouted, turning to find the cracked mirror he had not bothered looking at yet that morning. And there, finally, that annoying tension between his shoulder blades released, and with it a pair of shiny brownish-black and most definitely feathered extensions spread out fully from his body.
He turned this way and that to try to see the full effect, not to mention just now the things were attached, and only vaguely paid attention as Castiel said something about only the supernatural having the ability to see them: angels in their various forms, demons, those tainted by either - and wasn't that just a cool little jibe at Sammy as well - so the majority of the people on the street shouldn't notice a thing.
"You know what this means, don't you Dean?" Sam asked, accusatory.
Dean grinned, wide and full, and turned back to his clearly pissed off brother. "Oh yeah," he agreed. Sam looked mollified right up until Dean finished with, "I just got the best damn STD ever!"
"So clearly this shall be a productive day," Castiel blinked.
Sam muttered something about the seriousness of the situation, and how Dean probably didn't even realize his feet weren't even on the ground - which was awesome in its own right, really - but Dean was too busy running through all the thousands of ways having near invisible metaphysical wings was cool beyond all belief. Well, that, and how he was going to thank a certain metaphysical someone in new and interesting ways the next time they met – which better be soon.
"No, seriously," he said, looking back to the mirror yet again. "Best ever!"
Somewhere between the whisper of his new wings through the air and Sam's heartfelt sigh, he swore he heard a familiar voice say, "You're welcome."
End.
Feedback is always welcomed, even for this.
Today is the great and wonderful
threnodyjones's birthday! Normally, I celebrate this day with obnoxious multi-colored text and maybe a Fringe reference or five. Instead, today, I am attempting to fulfill a less than whispered wish... for crack.Dear Ms.
threnodyjones, please feel free to add this to the really random and strange list of things you have managed to get me to do in your name...Title: Not Your Standard Thank You Note
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Slash – implied Dean/Gabriel
Rating: R for language and less than subtle hints at sex
Length: ~850 words
Spoilers: Er, that there’s a character named Castiel and another one named Gabriel?
Synopsis: Dean is given a gift... of sorts.
Author’s Notes: For the dear, sweet,
threnodyjones, who asked for SPN fic in which Dean gets the “best damn STD ever!” Happy birthday, my dear!Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this. Dear deity of your choice, I am making no profit...
Dean woke up after sleeping the sleep of the well and truly fucked. He stretched a bit, and then stretched some more, but just could not work out that little kink right between his shoulder blades.
He tossed back the covers and stood, thankful that he had the piece of mind to pull on his boxers after last night's activities as he could already hear Sammy rummaging around outside. A glance around the room told him that his supposedly mythical companion had disappeared, not that this was really a surprise, leaving nothing but rumpled covers and a delicious ache behind.
Well, at least he would not have to explain that to Sammy, or see his disappointed glare, any time soon.
That sorted, he got back to business, which was to curl his toes into the matted carpeting, reach his arms upwards, and try to get that pesky spot in his back to pop.
It didn't budge.
He stood on the very tips of his toes and reached towards the textured ceiling, feeling the line of muscles connected like a fine thread ready to snap.
Still a no go.
The door opened and Sam stepped into the room just as the tension began to ease and that pesky knot finally felt like there was a chance it was going to give. It must have been windy outside because Dean felt a distinct breeze waft through the room, cooling down his admittedly over-warm body.
Sammy was babbling about something, likely about spending the night on some uncomfortable and unnecessary watch or saving puppies or something, but came to a complete and utter stop as he looked away from whatever it was he was fussing with and looked towards Dean's direction.
"Um," he said, less than intelligently.
"What?" Dean asked, still trying to get that one pesky spot. He twisted a bit to the left, and then back to the right.
"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked. He seemed to be looking at Dean, and somehow avoiding looking at him at the same time. There was a definite hint of the glare beginning to form.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, Sammy, when two people love each other very much, or possibly just really want a good..."
He was stopped from reaching his full level of snark by the arrival of Castiel. At least he was fairly certain it was Castiel if the expressionless expression was anything to go by.
"I see my brother has paid yet another visit," their visitor commented dryly. It was followed by a near immediate segue into some new and painful pending disaster.
"Wait," Dean cut him off with the wave of his hand. "There is no possible way you could know that. Unless, of course, you angels have some kinky little voyeurism streak going on and, still, you should really ask permission or warn a guy."
Sam tossed the plastic bag of something likely priceless and vital, or maybe Doritos, onto the tottering desk chair and shook his head. "It's fairly obvious, Dean, what with the feathers and everything. Either you are the victim of a new and extremely odd curse, or..."
"Or you had intimate relations with Gabriel in the preceding twenty-four hours," Castiel finished for him.
"What?" Dean asked, well and truly confused.
"Wings, Dean. You have wings," Sam spelled it out for him.
"No way!" Dean shouted, turning to find the cracked mirror he had not bothered looking at yet that morning. And there, finally, that annoying tension between his shoulder blades released, and with it a pair of shiny brownish-black and most definitely feathered extensions spread out fully from his body.
He turned this way and that to try to see the full effect, not to mention just now the things were attached, and only vaguely paid attention as Castiel said something about only the supernatural having the ability to see them: angels in their various forms, demons, those tainted by either - and wasn't that just a cool little jibe at Sammy as well - so the majority of the people on the street shouldn't notice a thing.
"You know what this means, don't you Dean?" Sam asked, accusatory.
Dean grinned, wide and full, and turned back to his clearly pissed off brother. "Oh yeah," he agreed. Sam looked mollified right up until Dean finished with, "I just got the best damn STD ever!"
"So clearly this shall be a productive day," Castiel blinked.
Sam muttered something about the seriousness of the situation, and how Dean probably didn't even realize his feet weren't even on the ground - which was awesome in its own right, really - but Dean was too busy running through all the thousands of ways having near invisible metaphysical wings was cool beyond all belief. Well, that, and how he was going to thank a certain metaphysical someone in new and interesting ways the next time they met – which better be soon.
"No, seriously," he said, looking back to the mirror yet again. "Best ever!"
Somewhere between the whisper of his new wings through the air and Sam's heartfelt sigh, he swore he heard a familiar voice say, "You're welcome."
End.
Feedback is always welcomed, even for this.