DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. I wish I did. Or at least had a joint-custody agreement and got to spend time with it every other weekend with supervised visitation. Oh well…
SPN Crack:
Pairing: Dean/Castiel; Sam
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Season 6
Castiel appeared in the dingy little motel room, surprised to find that Dean was not there. He nodded a greeting to Sam, who was recuperating phenomenally well for having his Hell-damaged soul forced back into his body by Death himself.
"Hello Sam."
Sam smirked, unexpectedly happy about something. "Hey Castiel. Dean ran out to get some grub – he should be on his way back. You can stay here 'til he gets back."
The Angel sat down on the edge of Dean's bed, stiff and awkward as usual.
The younger Winchester sat on the next bed over, an odd look plastered on his face.
"Is something wrong, Sam? Is it the wall? Are you feeling okay?"
A loud laugh burst from the young man, his dimpled cheeks making him look like an excited four-year-old, "No. It's just – Here, Cas. I bought you a gift."
He handed the Angel a box, no pictures on it – nothing that would indicate what was inside.
The celestial warrior stared at the box before he finally opened it. He removed the contents and stared at the object in his hand.
"Um… What is it?" He looked at it, confused and almost scared to find out what it was that he was holding.
Sam's smirk grew, "It's called The Shake Weight. It's for exercising. You know, to keep your vessel nice and toned."
Castiel opened his mouth to say that, for as long as he was occupying this vessel, it did not need exercise – but he stopped himself and merely nodded politely, "Thank you, Sam."
The oversized, overly-enthusiastic young hunter grabbed Castiel by his arm and gave it a firm shake, starting the weight on a nonstop up-down motion.
Castiel's bright blue eyes fixated on the bobbing motion of the weight in his hand for a moment before he looked up to Sam, who he noticed was pink with stifled laughter.
The door opened and Dean walked in, carrying a take-out bag of burgers.
The elder hunter paused in the doorway when he saw the Angel sitting on his bed, his arms clasping tightly to a phallic-shaped weight and making an up-down motion just above his groin.
"H-Hey Cas. Um, what've you got there?" he managed to choke out.
The Angel did not take his eyes away from the weight in his hands, "Hello, Dean. It's called The Shake Weight. Sam purchased it as a gift for me."
Dean shot a vicious look at his younger brother before he replied, "That's nice, Cas. Um, is there any reason you stopped by?"
Castiel looked away from his new toy and nodded, "Yes, rumors have surfaced that another of Heaven's missing weapons was found in Harmony, Pennsylvania. The Spear of Longinus."
After recovering the Spear, Dean and Sam sat in their motel room, relaxing.
Dean sipped his beer before he stopped and stared at his brother. "What were you thinking? Giving Castiel one of those Shake Weight things..."
The other hunter let out a loud guffaw and wiped the tears from his eyes, "Dude, how could I not? I mean, have you seen how perverted that looks? It's hilarious!"
But the look his brother gave him told the younger Winchester that perhaps the joke-gift was not as funny as he had planned.
Harmony long behind them, Dean thought that the nightmare known as The Shake Weight was over. He was wrong.
A few days later, just outside Leeds Point, New Jersey, the Angel appeared in his motel room, still shaking away at that damned weight. As it turns out, the Jersey Devil was very real and had been causing some commotion. But all Dean could think of was the way his- the way the Angel's hands moved the weight so furiously.
That night Dean dreamt of the harsh movement of Castiel's arms – though, thankfully, The Shake Weight was nowhere to be found in this case.
He woke up the next morning feeling confused and somewhat ashamed of himself. It was a silly little weight, for crying out loud. Was he that much of a pervert?
For the rest of the day, he gave Sam the silent treatment as punishment for starting this whole stupid thing and for putting these horribly awkward visuals in his head.
About a week after that dream, Castiel was back again – this time telling them that Azrael's flaming sword had been found in Winchester, Massachusetts. Again, with that damn Shake Weight bobbing in his grasp.
Dean watched as the world seemed to revert to slow-motion. This was making Castiel's otherwise silly 'work-out' look downright pornographic.
After what seemed like forever, Sam walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, looking more than a little concerned, "Dean?"
He shook himself from his reverie, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. Fine. Just blanked out for a minute there." He looked to where he had last seen the Angel and found Castiel had zapped off somewhere while he was staring into space like an idiot.
His brother nodded, grabbing their duffels, "Well, come on – it's at least four hours to Winchester. We have to get there as soon as possible before that Angel sword disappears on us."
He groaned, knowing that he would not make it to Winchester like this. "Hey, gimme a bit, Sammy – gotta hit the head."
In all his years, Dean Winchester had never been more ashamed to spank the monkey.
In all the years he had lived with Dean, Sam Winchester had never been more embarrassed to know that his brother was spanking it because of a fitness-addicted Angel of the Lord.
When Castiel returned later that evening to collect Azrael's sword, The Shake Weight was still shaking as hard as ever in his hands.
Dean couldn't take this anymore. He grabbed the offending exercise equipment and threw it against the wall, before grabbing the Angel by the lapels of his coat and throwing him up against the door of the motel room.
"What are you doing, Cas?"
The confused Angel only tilted his head, "Sam presented me with this Shake Weight gift, I was merely using it to its fullest potential, Dean." His gaze seemed to pierce into Dean's, "Does it bother you?"
Dean pressed his body against Castiel's, allowing him to feel the discomfort that was happening in the elder Winchester's dungarees.
Castiel gulped, "Oh." He looked down, almost as though he was embarrassed. "Forgive me, I didn't realize…"
His words were cut off when Dean's lips crashed against his, splitting the Angel's chapped lower lip slightly.
Dean grunted as he slammed the smaller man into the door harder. "You sure seemed to know how to get that Shake Weight going…"
Despite never having had occasion for sexual intercourse and despite his naïveté on some subjects, Castiel knew exactly where the hunter was headed with this comment and he whimpered softly, "Dean… My arms are sore."
The hunter stared at him, dumbfounded. "Um…. What?"
The dark-haired man shifted his posture, "I've been shaking that damned weight for almost a month, Dean."
Dean let his forehead hit the door next to Castiel's head, "Balls."