log; destiel & wishop WHO: Dean, Cas & some background Wishop WHEN: Super late on Nov. 11th (This was going to take place days ago, but I felt bad once I found out when Kate's birthday was, oops) WHERE: Apartment Free Will WHAT: Dean does some good old-fashioned brotherly trolling while Sam and Kate are trying to have adult alone time. WARNING(S): Not really? People have sex but you never see any of it. Destiel is cute and then they get smoke bombed for their trouble. Good stuff.
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The middle of the night was an awesome time to do a little housecleaning. The fact that Sam and Kate had disappeared into their bedroom to screw around had nothing to do with that.
Dean had managed to get his hands on a couple of small speakers months ago, but that didn't seem like enough. Instead, he rigged up a pair of paper cones to act as amplifiers (with stiff paper he definitely hadn't snagged from the supply closet for the daycare) and dragged over one of the smaller tables so it was planted just outside Sam's door (obviously by accident), plunking down the whole setup so the cones were angled inward (again, definitely an accident).
Armed with a spray bottle of watered down vinegar and a rag, Dean clicked the iPod over to his Bob Seger playlist and let it blast. Castiel, who didn't sleep, had offered to come out and help, because even if Dean was planning on trolling his brother, something should actually get done. As the beginning of Night Moves seeped out of the speakers, Dean was picking things up off the coffee table and tossing them to Cas to be set aside.
Castiel wasn't entirely sure why Dean had chosen this moment to clean, considering Dean generally liked to get things done in the morning in order to have the rest of the day, but he'd come to the conclusion that Dean was simply getting a particularly early start.
Dressed in a pair of pajama pants that happened to belong to him and a shirt that actually belonged to Dean, he caught the books and the coffee cup and carried them elsewhere to be put away — first the shelf, and then the bathroom, because the cup still had coffee in it and needed the wash.
He was nodding a little in mild approval at the music choice, which was his way of enthusiastically grooving to it.
"Cas, you're gonna learn," Dean said, spritzing the table with vinegar, "that when the world's not ending, it is our job as Sammy's family to screw with him. Especially when he's with a girl." He was moving along to the music, something that might be dancing if he had a little more rhythm. As he swiped the rag over the table, he used the squeezy bottle as a microphone when he shamelessly (and loudly) sang along to, "Workin' on our night moves!"
Cas took this in stride, rinsing out the cup and giving it a quick wash. He did, of course, take most of his cues from Dean about how to behave in human society, and if Dean said that screwing with Sam was appropriate, he wasn't about to argue. He got it. Brothers teased each other, they played pranks. That was perfectly acceptable.
When he came out of the bathroom, wiping his wet hands against his hips, he stopped — just to look at Dean. Happy. Energetic. It had been so long since he'd seen Dean like this that it brought just the faintest smile to his face, even if he did seem slightly bewildered.
Dean had either never noticed that he was a bad singer, or just didn't care, but he had a long tradition of belting out tunes in the car with Sam whether or not Sam liked it. Giving the world's most off-key concert over the blaring music that was directed toward his brother's room was just continuing a tradition. If Dean was good, it wouldn't be the same.
He wasn't much of a dancer, either, but that didn't stop him. He moved over to Cas with all the grace and sexiness of someone's dad trying to embarrass them at the prom. "Come on, Cas, you know all the words to everything now, right? We were just young and restless and bored, livin' by the sword."
Cas didn't really know all the words, but he nodded a little to the beat of the song and sort of half-mumbled the lyrics about half a beat behind Dean. To an outsider it might have seemed unenthusiastic, but there was a slight smirk on his features that was turning into one of those rare, delightful smiles that only came to him when he was genuinely joyful. He came off as grouchy and intense most of the time, stern and serious even when joking around.
But that smile lit up his features, even if it was a crooked little smirk more than it was a grin.
Dean was dedicated to bothering Sam, he really was, but that smile was distracting enough that he trailed off a little around and oh the wonder to lean in for a kiss---
It had been pure luck the small purple cannister attached to a long purple arrow bounced against Dean's foot and landing against his toes. It was retaliation for the music. And the singing. Kate Bishop had a marksman's ability, even when she was involved in multiple things at once. She hadn't necessarily aimed for Dean (come on, she wasn't as robot), but as long as that arrow made it far enough into the living space so that there would be very limited return, she was fine with wherever it landed.
It took an instant, maybe two, before it became clear what this was. The cannister began to hiss, and purple smoke poured out, flooding the living area in an instant. It might not stop the music, but it would be a little bit of payback.
Cas heard the cannister fall, then the hiss, and then he was backing away from Dean with a frown. "Dean, there's a problem," he said seriously, immediately on edge. That was what he got for being distracted and not paying attention to his surroundings.
He bent down, picking up the cannister and holding it out at arm's length in order to get it away from Dean. Inhaling the smoke caused him to cough, and he glanced toward the apartment door, then the bathroom door, and tried to consider the safest place to put it.
Shit.
Dean turned his face away, coughing in the smoke. Kate was quicker on the uptake than Sam was. He filed that note away for the future. "Throw it back, throw it back---" Groping for Cas's sleeve, he pulled him toward their own bedroom, motioning with his other hand for Cas to toss the arrow back where it came from.
Cas frowned, and for a moment it didn't click that the arrow was from Kate. When it finally dawned on him, he shrugged Dean off so he could throw the smoke bomb back. He should have rushed the door to open it up, because a cough threw off his aim and the cannister clunked against the wall and fell to the living room floor.
"What is that---"
Ducking back into their room, Dean closed the door behind them and laughed even while he coughed. "Must've been Kate's. Joke's---" Cough. "Joke's on them, now they're stuck with my Bob Seger playlist until they get up to turn it off." That sounded awesome to Dean, so as far as he was concerned, he'd done them a favor.
Cas coughed heavily, covering his mouth with his arm. He slumped back against the closed door, grateful to have a barrier between them and the room that was quickly filling up with purple smoke. "They can risk going out there and turning it off," he said gruffly. He checked his mouth for blood -- it was a reflex. The last time he'd been prone to coughing, he'd been dying and hacking up blood. This, fortunately, was nothing more than a little irritation.
"Oops." Dean shrugged. "You okay, Cas?"
"Yes," Cas said shortly, clearing his throat. "Retaliation was unexpected. I should have planned for it."
He wasn't entirely oblivious to what Dean had been doing, then. Cas was funny that way. Half the time he seemed unaware of anyone's sarcastic jokes or ulterior motives, and the rest of the time he was keenly in on it all -- he was just so good at sassing back that it seemed like he was misunderstanding them.
Dean laughed again before devolving into a few coughs. "We'll plan better next time. Now come here." Hooking his fingers into the front of Cas's shirt, Dean pulled him further into the room.
Cas followed dutifully, head tipped curiously to the side. "Now what?" he asked.
"Now." Dean pushed Cas down onto the bed and easily climbed over him. "We're having sex."
Cas leaned up on his elbows, shifting a little to make himself more comfortable. His gaze flickered toward the door. The music was still blaring, and wisps of purple smoke seeped in through the bottom of the door. "The music isn't a problem?" he asked. After all, Dean had put it on in order to irritate Sam and Kate, hadn't he?
Dean just smiled. "The music is the opposite of a problem."