Title: Ding Dong Ditch
A/N: It's my first fanfic guys, so take it easy! Humor is a lot harder than I'd imagined... hopefully you'll at least smile :D
Warning: Minor swearing.
I do not own Supernatural, nor the characters. Though I wish I did. I think I could write a great 8th season... and of course keep Cas. And Bobby.
Round One:
"This is the mother of all childhood pranks, Cas," Dean promised, half-dragging his angel to the porch of an unsuspecting house.
"This is childish, Dean," the angel complained, feebly attempting to break free from his charge.
Snickering, Dean shook his head. "Live a little, Cas. You're a human now, so you might as well do some humans things, right?"
Castiel frowned at the oldest Winchester brother. "But I am not a child—"
"You are a child."
"—Nor is my vessel in his adolescence," Castiel finished firmly, narrowing his eyes at Dean's child comment.
"Who cares?" Dean said flatly, a smirk gracing his masculine features. "Now get your feathery ass up onto that porch. Or I'll bring you back to a strip club."
Castiel stared at him with a panicked expression, his icy blue eyes wide. "I cannot—"
Giving his angel a not-so-gentle shove, Dean wished Cas the best of luck. Stiffly, Castiel trudged up to the wooden porch, climbing its stairs to the door slowly. Glancing back, he saw Dean shoot him a thumbs up. Facing the door again, Castiel sighed lightly before gently rapping on it twice.
Then he waited.
"Cas!" he heard Dean hissing. "Cas, run! No angel mojo, remember? You can't just zap yourself away!"
Did Dean think he was an idiot? Of course he knew his angel mojo had run dry. However, as unaccustomed to being a human as he was, he knew it was incredibly rude to knock on someone's door and then leave without saying anything.
The door opened, and a young woman maybe the age of thirty appeared in the frame, a look of surprise crossing her face at the sight of the angel in the trench cloak. "M-may I help you?"
"I am just enlightening you to the fact that my friend is coercing me into ding-dong-ditching your house."
The woman blinked, not sure how to respond.
Castiel nodded. "I will take my leave then. Have a good day." Secretly proud of himself, he returned to where Dean was hiding, sliding behind the tree next to him. "I have completed your task, Dean."
Dean wasn't sure how to react. Should he laugh? Should he cry? Apparently Cas hadn't gotten the point. Which meant they had to try again. Sighing, he just shoved Castiel away from him. "What have I said about invading my personal space, Cas?"
"My apologies—"
"Never mind. Come on, next house. You have to try again."
Crestfallen, Castiel frowned at Dean. "For what reason?"
"Ding-dong-ditch, Cas. Not ding-dong, wait for someone to answer the door, and then tell them you ditch! Now move!"
Castiel allowed Dean to lead him to the next house. Hopefully he would get it right his time and Dean would praise him.
Round Two:
"Okay, Cas, this time after you ring the doorbell you ditch. You get it?"
"I don't understand. This is discourteous—"
"All pranks are rude," Dean interjected, rolling his eyes. "Now get up there and remember to run."
Slightly miffed at his charge's constant demands, Castiel marched up to the second house he'd accosted that night. He didn't understand what these people had done to upset Dean enough to want to pull pranks on them. However, he didn't desire to let Dean down again, so he would do his utmost to make sure his prank ran smoothly this time.
Unfortunately for him, as soon as he pressed the doorbell (an odd contraption to him), the door swung open. Castiel froze like a deer in headlights as a balding macho man glared down at him. "What do you want? If you're here to sell Girl Scout cookies, think again."
From the sidewalk below him, Cas could hear Dean's roaring laughter. "I-I…" Castiel stuttered, wishing he could zap himself away.
"Well?" the man asked menacingly.
Castiel's mind raced for an acceptable excuse one would use in this situation. Why would a human go to another human's house? Suddenly, Cas knew. "May I use your bathroom?"
He didn't understand why the man slammed the door in his face. Now sulking, Castiel returned to Dean, who was wiping tears from his eyes. "What's wrong?" Castiel asked in concern.
"Nothing," Dean responded, shaking his head. "You're just killing me, Cas."
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't aware he was harming the shorthaired man. "How?"
"Figure of speech. Let's try this one more time."
"I'd rather not…"
"Strip club?"
Castiel's chest tightened. "Very well."
Round Three:
This was it. Castiel was definitely going to do this right. As soon as his finger pressed the doorbell, he quickly escaped, running as fast as Jimmy's legs would carry him. He had to give humans credit. Being forced to move around on their legs got annoying fast. Upon reaching Dean, his charge gave him a rough pat on the back. "Good job, Cas. You did it."
"I did," Castiel responded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly from both Dean's praise and the fact he'd finally managed to pull the prank off correctly.
Dean didn't have it in his heart to tell Castiel that no one answered the door. Or that when Cas ran he resembled a three-legged antelope.
Round Four:
Ding-dong.
"Jesus Christ!" Dean all but shouted, shoving himself up from the motel bed he was lying on. "Cas, cut the shit!"
Sam glared at his brother. "This is your fault you know."
"Not now, Sammy! I'm going fricking crazy here!"
"You shouldn't have taught him how to ding-dong-ditch!"
"I didn't think he would ding-dong-ditch us fifty freaking times a day!" Dean retorted, wrenching open the door to see if the annoying angel was standing there. "Son of a bitch!" he swore, slamming it shut.
Ding-dong.
"CAS!"
