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Supernatural Castiel x Dean '52 Pick Up' G-NC17
akare_kay
Title: 52 Pick Up
Author: Akaré
Rating: G - NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean x Castiel
Word Count: 26 x 100
Spoilers/ Warnings: Up to and including S05E14 (to be safe)
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or a scrap metal company. I make no money from these stories of mine.
Summary: I had such fun with my last lot of alphabet drabbles I've written another 26. As with the last lot, some words have more than one meaning, I've only noted the one I used. Also, no beta, no spell check, no word count. So if you spot errors let me know.



aloof adjective unfriendly and distant

Dean assumed he must have always been like that. He was an angel, he had never been with a woman and he didn't seem to have many friends. He just always seemed distant. Well, that was until after they ran into Lucifer, after Ellen and Jo, after burning the photograph. Then he seemed to realise distance really wasn't such a good thing if they were all going to die very, very soon.

At least, that was what Dean thought he meant when he slammed the hunter against a wall and kissed him. He was just closing the distance between them.

-

beer noun an alcoholic drink brewed by the slow fermentation of malted grains, usually barley, flavoured with hops

Dean wasn't just fond of alcohol, in the months after the War it became his best friend. Sam expressed concern, and used those words to describe it. Dean told him to go to Hell, then laughed at his own joke. Only Castiel bothered to tell him it was inappropriate, just like Dean had taught him it was inappropriate to bring up hookers' fathers.

"The Hell would you know?" He took another shot of whisky. "You don't even know what it tastes like."

"No," Castiel agreed, eyes on the tremors in Dean's hands. "But I can see clearly what it does."

-

call verb to shout or speak loudly in order to attract attention or in announcing something

It didn't matter what kind of mission they were on, could have been saving the world from Lucifer, could be saving the world from the wrath of Bobby. It didn't matter where they were either, on the phone while driving, in a warehouse, in a spot of reception in a creepy pagan backwater. All Dean needed was the sound of Castiel's voice carried miles through cabling and phone towers to his ear. Just the soft rumble of an angel's murmuring made him feel like he was back in that closet with Amanda Heckerley- embarrassed and foolish and hopelessly in love.

-

database computing a collection of computer data

Sam discovered it with his 'oh-I'm-so-clever-I-went-to-law-school' smarts. Dean didn't care, he just wanted him to delete it all before Castiel found out. "He's an angel," Dean reminded. "I am not gunna be the one who explains it to him."

Sam promised to get rid of it but he lied with the best of them. Dean discovered Castiel reading them in the backseat while Sam went for pie; he struggled to explain. "It's..."

"You have this relationship with your brother?" His blue eyes wide.

"No, no, it's just... fangirls."

"It would be sinful."

...

"Are there any with me in them?"

-

elope verb to run away secretly, especially with a lover in order to get married

Dean fell onto the mattress, exhausted and panting. "Fuck," he gasped into the pillow. "Fuck." Behind him Castiel trailed long, sticky fingers across his ribs, sweat slicked and bruised from those same hands. "Fuck," Dean said again, grabbing the hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Any ice in that bar fridge?"

"We used it all up an hour ago." Castiel fetched a bottle of water from the fridge and ran it over Dean's naked back, smiling as he shivered and flinched away, then he followed its wet trail with his tongue.

"Fuck the war," Dean groaned. "Let's elope."

-

fetching adjective, colloquial, jocular said of appearance: attractive, charming

Dean cursed his brother the moment they walked into the shop. Sam had run off to collect more info on their ghost, leaving Dean and Castiel to scout the premises. The premises was a menswear shop, and the proprietor was all over Castiel the second they walked through the door. Dean momentarily considered throwing Castiel to the wolves while he searched the place but some sense of chivalry, or just fear of God, stopped him. He passed the angel a dress shirt and backed him into the change room. The last thing he expected was for Castiel to play along.

-

garden adjective said of a plant: cultivated, not wild

It was difficult hearing his brother talking to this other version of himself. They understood each other- he got Sam's big words and mimicked Castiel's reserved and, at all times, proper manners.

He wondered how he must seem, rough and crass and stupid. He saw the suit and compared it to Dad's leather jacket and his worn jeans, compared his soft hands with perfect cuticles to his own callouses and broken nails, compared his pretty wife with her pearls to his string of whores and bar girls.

He shouldn't be surprised, he'd always found it so easy to hate himself.

-

haemophilia noun, medicine a hereditary disease, usually only affecting males, in which the normal clotting ability of blood is lost or impaired due to a deficiency of factor 8

Dean was getting woozy and his t-shirt felt all wet. There was blood across the warehouse floor, he'd watched it seep slowly over the concrete while he waited for Sam and Castiel to find him. He decided that was why his t-shirt was so wet and struggled to take it off. Castiel's hands on his shoulders held him down, Sam's worry-filled glare made him stay down.

It couldn't be too bad, he told himself, didn't feel anything like hellhounds but he still didn't like the way Sam wrapped him in bandages. Or the way Castiel whispered prayers above his head.

-

identity crisis noun, psychology a mental conflict, with symptoms of withdrawal or rebelliousness, etc, involving the loss of a person's sense of self, and inability to accept or adopt the role they believe is expected of them by society

"I'm having a what now?" Dean demanded, not sure whether to be mad or amused, not sure whether to even bother listening to the rest.

Zachariah preened. "A man like you needs to know his place, a man like you ought to--"

Dean laid a bloody hand on another hidden symbol- that was getting old.

Back in the car he asked Sam if he was sure they were doing the right thing. Couldn't they just kill all the angels too? Except Cas, of course. He'd be immune anyway if they made sure the spell was only for all supernatural dickwads.

-

join verb to connect, attach, link or unite

He hadn't planned rebellion, hadn't planned anything really. He had been created to obey but somewhere along the line he'd changed, somewhere between 'I pulled you out of Hell' and patronising a brothel. Could he blame Dean for that? He could. He did. He shouldn't. But everytime Dean teasingly offered him a beer, knowing he would refuse, everytime he made a joke at Sam's expense and looked to Castiel, laughing, as though he were part of the team, Castiel stomped down the ache in his heart. One day he would tell Dean he used to belong to a better club.

-

Kings noun, Bible the title of two historical books of the Old Testament

"The Hell is this shit anyway?" Dean demanded.

Chuck wriggled uncomfortably. "It wasn't my idea."

Dean fixed his glare on Becky who ignored him in favour of panting at Sam. "I don't care whose fucking idea it was," Dean snapped.

"Dude," Sam cut in. "Calm down, these are just the ones being published. Cassie--"

"If she ever reads these I'm a dead man," Dean warned.

"Not until your work is done," Castiel added from the door.

"Hey Cas," Chuck greeted, then froze and turned to Becky. "Umm... no, he's--"

"Oh," Becky smiled. "You're Cassie." Suddenly Dean was so much cuter.

-

the last post noun, military the final bugle call of a series denotes that it is time to retire at night

"Dean, we-- Where are you going?"

"Bed. I've packed Baby, I did my half of the five million hex bags, I've oiled, polished and rock-salted every gun and all the ammo I could find. I'm goin' to sleep."

"Dean--"

"Dude, I am dead on my feet. Gimme a break, just a few hours..."

Sam shrugged. "All right."

He took the stairs two at a time and didn't bother turning the light on, just felt out with his hands until they met trench-coat and tie.

"Falsehoods--" Castiel began.

"Not," Dean replied, tongue occupied against the angel's. "I do needa break. You."

-

mad adjective foolish or senseless; extravagantly carefree

Castiel left the meeting, knowing it wasn't just a reckless plan but also a fatal one. Before curtain call he pondered in his cabin how it had come to this. When he looked up, Dean stood silent in the doorway.

"Time?" Castiel asked.

Dean nodded, then Castiel had him against the wall, mouth hot against his but hands desperate- clutching his jacket in case the hunter got away. When Castiel pulled back, the words 'don't do this' on his lips, he remembered what Dean's eyes had once looked like and realised the plan wasn't the only thing that was mad.

-

nonplus verb to puzzle; to disconcert

Castiel's stares always unnerved him. His blank looks as though he knew just what you were thinking and was not at all impressed by it, his calm quiet gaze as though you were completely irrelevant, a bug in the path of a dinosaur. Sometimes he would be so blank it was hard to work out, was he amused? Angry? Was he going to come out with another gut-punching guilt trip?

But the ones that unsettled him the most were the possessive, hungry stares that he levelled at Dean. The ones anyone could easily translate, the ones that just said 'Mine.'

-

old hand noun an experienced person; an expert

Damp coaxing hands settled at his ribs, sliding down further as the hunter crawled catlike over him. Buttons were plucked open, bare skin licked and caressed, belts unbuckled and the harsh denim of the hunter's jeans scraped at his exposed hip.

"Trust me," Dean whispered, mouthing the angel's throat, letting his tongue trail wetly to the curl of Castiel's ear. "I've done this before."

Castiel tangled one hand tightly in Dean's hair, wrenching the lips back to his own. They kissed, easy and slow as he pushed Dean gently onto
his back. A small, wicked smile emerged. "So have I."

-

papilla noun, anatomy, biology a minute elevation on the skin, especially that of the fingertips, the inner surface of the eyelids and upper surface of the tongue, in which a nerve ends

It had been funny when Dean found him, thinking the brothers were out for pie he'd stood in the bathroom looking at the form of Jimmy Novak. Dean frowned at him. He explained he'd never had real form before, explained he found God's creation more complicated than he'd imagined- flesh and blood and bone all knitted together, explained he did not wish to touch for Jimmy was a pious man. Dean spoke without thinking and offered himself.

Later, hot and sweaty and damp, he pulled his fingers from the angel's mouth but even white teeth drew them back. "Not yet."

-

quarry noun an animal or bird that is hunted, especially one that is the usual prey of some other animal or bird

Generally, Dean liked his girls naughty or at least with a naughty streak, generally the thought of two men fucking made him screw up his nose and go "Ugh, gay." But there was something about Castiel at the bathroom sink peeling out of a blood drenched shirt that made him think of that Melissa chick he'd picked up soaked in a thunder storm, something about the clear blue gaze that made him feel like Castiel wasn't a man at all. So when he stepped up close to the angel and undid the belt himself, it wasn't weird, it was natural.

-

razor edge noun colloquial a critical delicately balanced situation

They paused, inches from each other, panting warm breath across the other's slick skin. Dean's eyes slid up from the angel's lips and by the time they met blue he was holding his breath, chest tight, his own lips parting, his hands desperate to grab.

Castiel held his gaze, one soft hand stroking absent-mindedly along Dean's hip. Slowly he leant forward, letting his mouth hover over the hunter's, letting their lips touch with every word. "Don't fight me, Dean," he murmured.

The hunter smirked and licked Castiel's bottom lip. "I'm not." He pushed Castiel onto his back. "It's my turn."

-

separatist noun a person who encourages, or takes action to achieve, independence from an established church, federation, organization, etc.

"You're not on your own," Anna had said.
He was part of the family the moment Bobby took the photograph. Sam and Dean, Ellen and Jo, Bobby. And him.

"You betray us as Lucifer did," Zachariah had claimed.
He knew the moment Dean was brought to the Green Room that he was too far gone, he would chose the hunter over his brothers.

"What are you doing?" Dean had asked.
He shoved off Dean's jacket, impatiently, lifting the hunter's shirts as he sank to his knees. He didn't even look at him as he replied.
"Replacing one God with another."

-

thebaine noun a poisonous alkaloid obtained from opium

"You're gunna get me killed," Dean declared, pressing his face against Castiel's thigh.

"Then let me go," Castiel carded his fingers through Dean's hair.

"No." Dean bit a fold of flesh on his belly. "If I let you go now, I'll never get you back. I know what it's like. One look and you'll stay up there forever."

Castiel lay back on the bed and allowed Dean to crawl over him. "The war is over," he reminded.

"Sure." Dean set teeth at Castiel's jaw. "But after all we been through you could at least lemme start another one over you."

-

ultramicroscopic adjective too small to be visible under an ordinary microscope

They're nothing, they'd said. Those worthless monkeys, too stupid to even know they're alive. Often they were, often they fought and argued and were stupid, often they were selfish and greedy, pig-headed and crude.

But sometimes when they slept, sometimes in the dead of night, inside their dreams they weren't nothing, they were everything. Sometimes they were heroes, sometimes they were perfect. Sometimes as they slept whole universes could collide, suns could supernova, and the angels themselves could pack up and go home, but you wouldn't notice, because you're too busy listening, too busy watching, too busy breathing him in.

-

victuals plural noun food; provisions

Castiel had seen on the television that 'mornings after' were often punctuated with awkwardness and embarrassment, followed by one or both parties saying something hurtful or foolish. Glancing down at Dean drooling and humping Castiel's thigh in his sleep, the angel wondered how he could ensure their 'morning after' was not afflicted. He considered acting as though Dean had not drunk too much and attempted to ravish Castiel within an inch of his angelness only to be ravished himself. No, that would be hurtful. Best to begin as he did every other morning. He slid from the bed for pie.

-

waddle noun a clumsy rocking movement

The grey hairs really annoyed Dean. He got them, Sam got them, Castiel didn't, even at the age of... whatever he was. Dean with scar from cheekbone to jaw; Sam with the tips of two fingers missing; Castiel all perfect and complete.

It helped because it meant he stayed stronger than Dean, meant he could hold him back from the fire, meant he could wrap long arms about his shoulders, hauling him away. Meant he could bury his face at the nape of Dean's neck, rocking him and murmuring as the hunter sobbed one word into the smokey air.

"Sam..."

-

xeno- combining form, denoting strange; foreign

His lips on Dean's were odd, his hands too strong, his face too scratchy. The hard plains of his body so different to his own, not like a woman, but not like him either.

He was hard work, he didn't move instinctively like humans do, Dean had to show him the best way to shift his hips, the quickest way to slick himself up so he didn't come from just the touch of his own hand. But once he was inside- with his hands on Dean's hips and his cock buried deep in the hunter- that felt strangest of all.

-

yearbook noun a book of information updated and published every year especially one that records the events, etc of the previous year

"What is that?" Castiel asked, watching Sam's hand scribble across the page.

"It's his diary," Dean cooed. "Dear Diary, Today I watched all Robert Pattinson's movies. I lurrrve him so much--"

"Shut up," Sam replied lazily, just as he had the past ten times. "It's a journal, like Dad's. See?" He showed the angel sketchy pagan symbols, brief descriptions of their day. 'Destroyed hex bags. Dean declared 'all witches officially skanky by law of D. W.'' "You wanna add anything?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded and took the pen. In his clear and perfect hand he added: 'Made love to Dean.'

-

zero option noun in nuclear arms negotiations: a proposal to limit or abandon the deployment of shorter-range nuclear missiles if the opposing side does likewise

"No."

"Dean--"

"No."

"They-"

"Cas, what part of 'no' d'you not get?"

"The part where we can fight a war on two fronts."

"Haven't we been--"

"And we're losing."

"So you'll just hand yourself over?"

"Lucifer has given his word."

Dean scoffed.

"He claims this vessel will be better than his current. It will buy you more time--"

"What about Jimmy?"

"What about Sam?"

"No."

"Dean--"

"I'm sick of winning by losing, Cas. We beat Yellow Eyes, we lost Dad. We beat Alistair and Lilith but we've lost Pam... an' Jo an' Ellen. We're winning this time. All of us."




I love every single one of these!!!!

Sorry, but I have nothing more coherent than that to offer. Just... I love every single one. Wow.

Aww, thank you. I really enjoy writing these because I have no idea what's going to happen. Love it when stories sneak up on you. Glad you liked them!

Oh wow - I love these.

Zero Option, ultramicroscopic, mad, kings, join and database have all rocked my world.

Thank you! I wasn't too happy with 'zero option' and 'ultramicroscopic' so I'm really glad someone liked them.

God, I just love every single one of these. (Is there an echo?)

I love the style of seemingly unconnected drabbles, actual drabbles no less, that still don't feel disjointed. I could start quoting my favorite lines at you but I'll end up retyping approx. 80% of the fic.

I'm impressed how you keep everyone in character in so many completely different situations. In conclusion: I LIKE.

Edited at 2010-02-24 04:32 pm (UTC)

Awesome! Thanks. I wasn't sure how well I was doing with keeping them in character so I'm glad you think so.

Wow! I loved this trip of Dean and Castiel through the alphabet. But this one:
separatist noun a person who encourages, or takes action to achieve, independence from an established church, federation, organization, etc.

"You're not on your own," Anna had said.
He was part of the family the moment Bobby took the photograph. Sam and Dean, Ellen and Jo, Bobby. And him.

"You betray us as Lucifer did," Zachariah had claimed.
He knew the moment Dean was brought to the Green Room that he was too far gone, he would chose the hunter over his brothers.

"What are you doing?" Dean had asked.
He shoved off Dean's jacket, impatiently, lifting the hunter's shirts as he sank to his knees. He didn't even look at him as he replied.
"Replacing one God with another."


Smoking hot!

Also, you just gotta love a fic where you learn something new.

Thank you, I particularly like the idea of Castiel worshipping Dean on his knees :D Glad you liked them, the vocabulary boost is just added incentive.

Wow. Those were great. <3

These are amazing! Database, join, king, and waddle are my favorites <3

Oh, and yearbook. Love!!

Thanks!

Waddle sounds like such a silly word, I feel odd having written a serious drabble for it. Guess I made up for it with 'yearbook' though. My toughest decision was whether Sam loved Robert Pattinson or Zac Effron... or maybe the Jonas brothers :D

I love all of these ! They're so meaningful on their own. Wow, great job !!

Thanks, I'm glad you think so.

(Deleted comment)
*whimpers*

Last two fuckin broke me.

Dude, your icon fuckin' breaks me. Sometime I've gotta write a damn cuddle!fic for these two. Too much angst! Not enough manly snuggling!

Wow.

I started reading these thinking they'd be perfect for my total lack of attention span right now, and then I wound up completely immersed, laughing, tearing up...

He shouldn't be surprised, he'd always found it so easy to hate himself.

Oh yeah. You broke me.

Yeah, that line made me hurt a little when I wrote it. Glad you liked 'em.

(Deleted comment)
Woohoo! Get writin'! I'm looking forward to reading it now :)

I got rec-ed? Awesome! I'll have to go write more now.

Lovely. Wonderful format.

This was awesome, I loved how all the little stories came together to tell a big one :)

Yes, the big story being Castiel and Dean belong together and more slash must be written *nods* Thanks for commenting.

I only say it 'cause it's true! :)

Thebaine, yearbook and zero option = Me squealing like a mad insane fangurl and making my boss wonder wtf I'm up to. Hurrah!

I especially loved Dean wanting to start another war for Cas. That's real love right there!

Also, LOVE your FFVIII inspired icon. It's made of awesome and win!

Edited at 2010-02-25 02:22 pm (UTC)

Thank you, hope I didn't get you into trouble O.O

And Dean would totally start another war. He beat Heaven and Hell once already, he can do it again.

Also, if you're interested I wrote another set of these for FFVIII Seifer x Zell. Can be found here: http://akare-kay.livejournal.com/32206.html

I love all of these and how much you convey in these.

These are so wonderful. I love how emotionally, they sort of run the gamut, but they're connected in such a subtle way. Also, they're beautifully written.

Thanks! I'm always really pleased when someone likes the way they're written too :)

(Deleted comment)

Wow! Umm, thank you! I'd kinda forgotten about these, thank you so much! You've reminded me I should probably write another 26 to sort out the mess that is season six... Although maybe the writers will sort it out tomorrow? *hopeful eyes* Please? :D

Thanks again!

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