Dec 9, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, Tall Cool One Title: Tall Cool One Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, random demons Rating/Warnings: Teen Disclaimer:here Prompt:this picture Summary: It was a nice, straightforward case of demon possession. What could go wrong? A/N: Title is from this Robert Plant song.
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“Look out!” Sam yelled.
Dean whirled and caught the demon in the gut. The wound sparked and it slumped to the ground. Across the room, he could see Cas had gotten himself cornered by two. Wouldn't be a problem if he could use his mojo, shouldn't even be a problem with his angel blade, but he didn't seem to be using it. Whatever he was using seemed to be doing little more than pissing them off.
Sam, he saw, had his situation under control.
Jumping over the dead demon, Dean ran to go help the angel. He spotted the bright blade, kicked aside and half hidden in the shadows.
“Cas, catch!” he yelled, tossing Cas the demon knife as he bent to grab the sword.
Once both of them were armed, the demons didn't stand a chance.
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas looked annoyed that he'd needed rescuing.
“Hey, you know me. Love coming in at the last minute to save the day. Makes me look extra heroic.”
“Yes. My hero.”
Dean couldn't tell if that was supposed to be sarcasm. He decided not to ask.
“Cas, what's this?” Sam asked, picking up the makeshift weapon the angel had cast aside to catch the knife. “A … nutcracker?”
Dean looked at it. Yup. A nutcracker, like that Christmas show or whatever. Even had “naughty” written down one arm and “nice” down the other.
“You were fighting demons with a naughty-or-nice nutcracker?” Dean chuckled. “Did you make sure to hit them with the naughty side?”
“It was the only object available.”
Dean looked around the destroyed apple pie house. Yeah, most of the decorations that littered the place had been crappy plastic, maybe some were glass.
“Hey, at least it bought you some time,” Sam pointed out. “Now, let's get out of here before the cops show up.”
Once they had a good bit of road between them and the demonic massacre, Sam spoke up again. “You know, we never did try the bungee thing. Might be worth a try.”
“Do you have any idea how un-cool that would be?” Dean scoffed.
“Less un-cool than getting killed.”
“If you are referring to using those elastic cords to secure our weapons to our persons, I believe that would create more hazards than it would avoid,” Castiel put in. “Today, for example, Dean would have had to detach the demon knife from his person before throwing it to me.”
“Or he could've just thrown you your own sword, which you wouldn't have lost in the first place.”
“And risk the demons getting hold of something that can actually kill him while he's unarmed? Yeah, Sammy, I was totally going to do that … never.” Dean gripped the steering wheel tight. “Rather risk them getting the knife.”
“Good point.” Sam sighed. “Fine, no bungees.”
“Also, un-cool.”
“It is very important for the last-minute hero to appear 'cool', then?” Cas asked from the backseat.
“No.”
“Absolutely.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Dean cranked up the radio. Argument over. He just wanted to get home, shower, and maybe have a little private celebration that everything had worked out. A glance in the rearview told him Cas seemed to be thinking something similar.
Dean grinned. It totally mattered to look cool when you came to the rescue.