Title: Stocking Stuffers
Author: isasminion
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: CRACK
Rating: PG
Word Count: 450
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Slight 3.08 (A Very Supernatural Christmas)
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.
Summary: They may or may not have an angel for the Christmas tree. Dean can't tell yet.
Author Notes: Just a little cracky fun. For the kink-meme prompt: I really just want an angel on top of a Christmas tree. Porn, crack, a buttplug whittled out of pine, whatever.
"Dean, this is ridiculous."
"You lost the bet, Cas. Rules are rules. We agreed."
Cas released a sharp breath through his nose.
"That was before you actually informed me of the rules, Dean, which renders the agreement void, and the forfeit little more than-"
"Cas, just get on top of the god damn tree!" Dean waved in the vague direction of their sad looking Christmas tree. They'd rescued the spindly, lopsided pine from the side of the road, and despite the decorations consisting of bottle caps, shotgun shells and bar coasters… well, it looked pretty good.
It was just missing the angel on top.
Cas, typically, was unamused. Though that might have had a lot to do with insufficient alcohol consumption. It wasn't Dean's fault they couldn't afford a liquor store.
"Not to mention the technicalities. Moose are in fact not members of the-"
"Oh my god." Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands. "You're like a married couple bickering over toilet paper brands."
"We are not a married couple-" Dean interrupted just as Cas sniped "Dean and I hardly-"
"I don't wanna tempt fate, but I'm starting to wish I had a couple of Pagan gods to kill," Sam muttered, massaging his temples.
Dean scowled and pointed a finger at his brother. "Hey, shut your fudging mouth!"
Two Hours Later...
"Dean, what is this?"
"It's a butt-plug, Cas."
The angel barely resisted rolling his eyes. "It's carved out of wood, Dean."
"Pine, actually," Dean replied proudly.
"Which is a wood."
"Yeah, Christmas-y, huh? You know, angel... pine tree... up the..." Dean's smirk morphed into a sigh when Cas just stared at him. To be honest, he couldn't say for certain the angel wouldn't throw the slightly uneven hunk of wood directly at his forehead. Dude was in a bad mood since Sam stormed out and there was no one to Google moose mating rituals for him. (Not that Dean hadn't graciously let it go. Eventually.)
"You do realize how danger-"
"Christ, Cas, it's a joke, OK? Forget it."
Cas huffed and placed the misshapen lump of pine back on the night stand. He turned to leave.
"Unless, well…" He really should have known better than to antagonize Cas in this mood, but he just couldn't help it. "You're pretty strong, right?"
Cas stilled in the doorway, his shoulders tense and Dean could almost see the steam coming from his ears.
Dean Winchester: Successfully pissing off Angels since 1979.
He gulped.
Sam heard Dean's very 'manly' yelp from three rooms away. He rolled his eyes and downed the last of the eggnog.
It was going to be a long night.