Geniuses Squared
Summary: It only takes Cas a little bit of research to discover what Dean's problem is.
Disclaimer: Well, idk how it happened, but I still don't own Supernatural. It's okay, don't get to comfortable with them Sera, I'm working on it. Keep your guard up EK, there is a plan in place that involves sporks, a hot glue gun, and a lot of wire.
Note: I got bored trying to study some psychology, that is the only reasoning behind this-however, I did reach the staunch conclusion that wtf is with studying during Spring Break? I'm off to make a smoothie, turn on the TV and do anything that is the opposite of studying.
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"You know what you're problem is, don't you Dean?"
Dean bit his tongue and swallowed the laundry list of expletives he would happily drop on Castiel if he didn't think it would only cause more problems.
"No? What?" Dean retorted. "I have no faith? I'm an obnoxious son of a bitch? I'm a horny bastard who-"
"No." Castiel interjected, cocking his head contemplatively as he leaned back in the cheap orange leather chair. "Well, except for the last. And you should work on that. There is no cure for venereal diseases."
"I take it back." Dean said, once he got over the shock of the angel giving him a lesson on the very worst brand of 'just say no.' Cas was so not allowed to play with Sam's computer anymore. "I know what my problem is, and I don't need your help, or advice, or recently googled knowledge."
"I don't know google." Castiel said, "But Bing suggests yoga for stress. It's not a terrible idea-Sam was teaching me Namaste Yoga, it was very…relaxing."
"Wonderful." Dean rolled his eyes, who would have thought Sam could turn a warrior angel into…Gandhi? That had to have some sort of karmic punishment attached. "I'm so glad you're working out all those little kinks-maybe next time you can try the Karma Sutra, oh peaceful one."
"Sarcasm," Castiel said with a serious look, "Is not the answer to everything,"
Dean rolled his eyes, great, his own personal incarnation of Dr. Phil was the last thing he needed. If Cas had wanted to re-incarnate he at least could have picked someone useful-or rich-or both, like Hugh Hefner. Dying wish number 888 was still sex with the original Girls Next Door, yep, that would be helpful.
"I hope Sam isn't fueling your impressionable little mind with Oprah." Dean told him, "Trust me, she ain't is smart as all those soccer moms think she is. The woman can't even say no to a doughnut, that's a woman with some deep seated psychological…well, you know."
"I've been reading. Sam has an impressive library." Castiel said, "You should try sometime, you'd learn a great deal about yourself. You have a lot of problems. You're narcissistic, and I think you there was an interruption in your development at the anal-urethral-"
"Woah!" Dean interrupted, holding his hand up. "No, no, no-no."
Dean looked up as the motel door opened and Sam walked in with dinner.
"Quiet." He said to Cas, and turned to Sam and pointed at him. "This is your problem, genius boy."
Dean walked over and grabbed his burger out of the bag, and looked from Cas to Sam.
"You build it-you de-program it until it stops talking about…" Dean cringed.
"Anal-"
"Enough!" Dean barked, shuddering. "Sam-you're problem. That is your problem."
"That's my burger." Sam said as Dean took a bite out of it.
"Not anymore." Dean licked his lips, not too bad.
"You're not anally fixated by the way," Sam informed him, "You're orally fixated."
"Stop using that word."
"No. Anal."
"Stop!"
"Anal. Anal. Anal." Sam practically singsong. "ANAL!"
"STOP!"
"You're both lacking something in your developmental make up." Castiel concluded.
Dean dug his keys out of his pocket. "Shut up, Sam, fix him-I'm going…somewhere."
"You're also bossy." Castiel added, "For the record."
"And neither of you have a chance or getting laid." Dean shrugged, "I can live with it."
He slammed the door shut behind them. They could take as long as they needed, worse case scenario he'd make friends with the hot bartender that made a mean White Russian.