Title: Supernatural: Indecently Odd
Timeframe: Post S10 E5 ("Fan Fiction")
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild Language
Author's Note: This is inspired by, and the characters' attitudes are taken from, the episode "Fan Fiction".
Dean contemplated the double-stacked bacon cheeseburger – extra bacon, pickles, ketchup and mustard, thank you very much – with the same reverence others reserved for their beloved. He breathed in the savory aroma of perfectly sizzled beef and fried hickory heaven. Using both hands, he grasped the masterpiece and brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes.
Sam cleared his throat.
Dean sighed. "Don't ruin the moment, dude."
"Um, Dean?" Sam's voice was quiet.
"Dammit."
Dean glared at his brother. Sam turned a concerned glance to him, then tilted his head in a brief nod at the only other occupant in the bunker. Scowling, Dean glanced down to the end of the library's table, where Castiel sat. The angel stared, eyebrows furrowed, at the laptop before him.
"Cas?" Dean called out to him. "Are you … using the computer?"
"Yes," came the gravelly reply.
The brothers exchanged looks. Sam shrugged and raised his eyebrows. Dean grunted a soft noise of disbelief. They watched the angel stare at the laptop, the screen's glow reflecting against his features.
After several moments of silence, Dean said, "So, whatcha doing?"
Castiel blinked. "What? Oh, this." He leaned back. "I heard of something that I thought might be another angel, one I'd never heard of before. But when I," he raised his hands, his index and middle fingers forming quotation marks in the air, "'search' on this device, I keep finding unusual results."
"No angel?" Sam asked.
"Well, yes, there is. There are pictures of an angel, but always with a man." Castiel opened his mouth, paused, closed it, then tried again. "Many of the images are … indecent." He shared an uncomfortable look with the brothers. "Needless to say, those were not helpful. I decided to read about it on this," he gestured to the laptop, "contraption instead."
"So," Dean said, eyebrows raised, "any luck?"
"Yes and no. There is plenty of written material here but it's odd."
"Indecently odd?" Dean smirked as he grabbed his beer.
"Among other things." Castiel paused, lips tight in confusion. "The writings are stories, for the most part. But the characters," he looked up at the other two, "are named Dean and Castiel."
Dean choked on the beer. "What?"
"Sam is even mentioned, in a few."
Sam sat up straighter.
"The writing style is similar to that of Chuck's, and his Supernatural books, but each story is decidedly different. Particularly the subject matter."
"What the hell did you look up?" Dean asked, wiping beer from his chin.
"Someone – or something – called Destiel."
Dean choked again.
Sam let out a bark of laughter. At Dean's glare, he covered his mouth and abruptly started coughing.
"What is it?" Castiel asked, ignoring their exchange. "It's not any of Chuck's work, and with the line of prophets severed, it's not another prophet's work either. And yet, it depicts us."
"It's fan fiction, Cas." Sam explained. At the angel's blank look, he continued, "Fans write their own stories about the books. Sometimes they, uh," Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth, "write certain characters together in romantic relationships. They smash the names together when they do that. So, Destiel is, well, you and …" He looked at his brother and shrugged.
"Shut up, Sammy."
"Sorry, dude, he asked."
"These are unofficial continuations of Chuck's books?" A look of confusion crossed Castiel's features. "It doesn't make sense. Take this one." He pointed at the screen. "Why would I want Dean to thrust his–"
Dean's inarticulate outburst interrupted Castiel. He lunged forward and slammed the laptop shut. Ignoring Sam's protests over the computer's rough treatment, he said, "I swear, Cas, you finish that sentence and I'll rip my own ears off."
"That would be quite painful."
"Not as bad as listening to what you were saying," he countered. Dean pulled the laptop away from the angel and wrapped his arms around it. "Reading that didn't bother you?"
"Why would it?" Castiel blinked, his eyes shifting between the elder Winchester and the computer. "By your own statement, it is fiction. It is not neither history nor prophecy. Therefor, it has no relevance for me. The examples I read had various degrees of decency, some – several, in fact – bordering on none, but it does not affect me."
"Well, fine, good for you. Just never share any of them with us." Dean shook his head. "In fact, never mention them again. Ever." He picked up his burger, then let it fall. "Dammit. I've lost my appetite."
"Cas," Sam said, corners of his mouth twitching, "where did you even hear of Destiel?"
"Crowley." The angel shrugged. "He stated that I might want to look into it. In hindsight, he may have had an ulterior motive for mentioning it." He shot an apologetic look at Dean.
"I'll kill him."
"I'm good for killing Crowley whenever, Dean," Sam said, "but, really, what's the harm? It's kinda funny, in a way. They're just some stories. They're not important, right?"
Dean locked eyes with his brother. After several terse moments, Dean smiled and leaned back, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, sure. Just some stories. Right." He opened the laptop, hiding a quick grimace as he closed Castiel's search results. He tapped some keys. "Hey, here's an idea. Let's look up some more stories."
"Seriously, dude?"
"Dean, given your reaction to my efforts, it seems unlikely you'll appreciate anything else the computer has to offer."
"It'll be fine." Dean pursed his lips, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Let's pick a few random names. First, let's see," he glanced at the ceiling, tapping his chin, "Sam …"
"Excuse me?" Sam sat up straight.
"And, hmm, who else? Oh, how about, Crowley?" Dean began tapping the keyboard in earnest.
"Dean! What the hell?"
Castiel tilted his head. "That seems far less likely to occur than the romantic encounters between you and I– "
"Cas!" Dean glared at the confused angel. "Please! Never again, remember?"
"My apologies."
"Keep doing that, and I'm going to bleach my brain." Dean shook his head. Turning his attention back to the screen, he cracked his knuckles. "Back to business. What would that be under? Sowley?"
"Dude, no!" Sam leaned over the table, reaching out for the laptop.
"What?" Dean leaned back, pulling the computer from Sam's reach. "They're 'kinda funny' and 'just some stories', right?"
"Dean, stop."
"Cam? Oh, I got it. Cram. As in, 'Cram' it up your ass, Sammy."
