Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.

E/O Challenge: Tongue. 3 x 100-word drabbles describing problems with speaking. #1: Castiel struggles to find the right words. #2: Everyone's rendered speechless (slashy crack!fic). #3: Sam isn't ready.

~#~

Glossolalia

"Moses said to the Lord, 'Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.'" - Exodus 4:9-10

~#~

A/N: Castiel struggles to find the right words. 100 words. Set season 5.

Thingummy and the Whatsit

Castiel was about to launch into the ritual when he paused.

"How does it start? What's the word?" He supposed he'd have to get used to forgetfulness while he was exiled from Heaven.

Dean, not really listening, just grunted from his post by the door.

"That's most annoying; it's on the tip of my tongue." Castiel glowed with pleasure when he realized he'd used a human idiom in the correct context.

"I hate to rush you, but could you maybe get on with it?" Dean asked, struggling to keep the door shut against the pounding of the demonic horde outside.

~#~

A/N: Everyone's rendered speechless. 100 words. Crack!Fic. Set season 5.

Let's Never Speak of This Again

Sam had completed his research in record time in his rush to get back to his brother. Dean, who never admitted to being anything less than 'peachy keen', had complained of feeling under the weather.

The sight that greeted Sam as he let himself into their motel room was way too much to process. Still, it proved that Dean was much better.

"I'm getting another room," Sam shrieked as he fled.

The next morning, he met Dean and Castiel at a diner. They both looked embarrassed and Dean was uncharacteristically quiet.

"What's up, Dean? Cas got your tongue?" Sam smirked.

~#~

A/N: Sam isn't ready. 100 words. Set during 4.01 Lazarus Rising.

Come Forth, Lazarus

"Give thy thoughts no tongue." – Polonious, 'Hamlet' Act 1 Scene 3, William Shakespeare

He'd just dressed after his shower when he heard the sound of raised voices from the other room.

"Hey, is..." He stopped as he saw who Ruby was talking to.

Dean. For a moment his brain stalled, unable to cope with the joy that exploded in his heart.

But as his wits returned, it was only to be crushed under the weight of guilt. What he'd done. What he was becoming.

I'm not ready.

Tongue-tied, he looked to Bobby. Only Bobby was still struggling to decipher his brief, horror-stricken expression. So he did what Winchesters always do.

He lashed out.

(;,;)