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: Slab. 3 x 100 word drabbles. #1: Castiel doesn't have six million dollars. Fortunately. #2: Dean's cooking with gas. #3: Dean's plan on referencing 'Flat Stanley' to reclaim his masculinity may be a little flawed. Minor reference to season 8.
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Small Comforts
"My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life" - Psalm 119:50
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A/N: Castiel doesn't have six million dollars. Fortunately.
No Upgrades
"So come up to the lab and see what's on the slab" – 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'
Dean's first thought on consciousness was that he was freezing.
This bed's damn hard, too, he thought.
"Just making the first incision..."
Dean sprang up, knocking the scalpel away from a panic-stricken doctor. He pulled a thin, shroud-like sheet around himself on discovering he was naked and laid out on a morgue slab.
"Apologies, I was waylaid," said Castiel, appearing with a rustling of feathers, throwing an apologetic glance after the fleeing coroner.
"Any chance you brought me back better, faster, stronger?" asked Dean, still chilled.
"Sorry. Should I have?"
"Nah, that never really works out for us, does it?"
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A/N: Dean's cooking with gas. Set post-season 8. For Winjennster.
Comfort Food
"Cure sometimes, treat often, comfort always" – Hippocrates
As Sam tucked in to a large slab of homemade apple pie, he considered that you hadn't lived until you'd tasted his brother's baking. He felt a pang of regret that they were only now discovering Dean's culinary skills.
He knew Dean was only trying to feed him back to health, but, as he glanced down, he couldn't help mourn the loss of his abs.
Dean must have caught the despondent look. "Sammy, they're like hunters: they might've gone to ground, but they'll be back... better than ever."
"How 'bout another slice, then?" Sam asked, holding out his empty plate.
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A/N: Dean's plan on referencing 'Flat Stanley' to reclaim his masculinity may be a little flawed.
Saving Face, Not Grace
Dean's warning call was more incoherent screaming, as a massive slab of concrete from the collapsing building crushed Castiel beneath its fall.
Dean clawed around the base of the stone in a desperate attempt to free his friend and sobbed with relief as the rubble parted to reveal a grimy figure. "I thought you'd been squashed flat as a pancake."
Castiel wiped at his clothes, while Dean attempted to salvage his pride. "Hey, it could've been handy. To save on mojo, we could've folded you up and posted you places."
Castiel frowned. "I don't think I'd have enjoyed being correspondence."
(;,;)