It's been a while since an 'I Gripped Him Tight' bunny bit me. This one jumped out of my tea mug this morning.
In hindsight, sighed Sam, it was probably not the best idea to leave Dean in the care of Castiel. The angel was often barely able to take care of himself when he walked among humans. And Dean could take quite some, er, supervising, when he was feeling particularly reckless and impulsive.
At the moment, seeing that Dean was currently about four years old again after annoying yet another witch – would he ever learn? – it was doubly inadvisable. Whether the witch had included a component of appalling behaviour in the spell, or whether it was just Dean on the rampage, the kid had turned out to be a real handful.
But Sam had needed to interview a couple of people if they were going to crack this case and get his big brother turned back into his adult self again, and Dean had started to scream that he was hungry and wanted food RIGHT NOW. Castiel had cocked his head and suggested that he could take Dean to get some lunch. "He is a four year old child, Sam, he needs patient but firm authority. I am an Angel of the Lord, a Warrior of Heaven. How difficult can it be?"
Famous last words.
He knew something was wrong the moment he set foot in the diner. A waitress, the woman behind the counter, and the other customers were trying not to look, and trying not to smirk or laugh openly, but the temper tantrum performance Dean was putting on was worthy of the most seasoned and spoiled soap opera starlet.
"I don't WANT a stupid sandwich!" the small and admittedly adorably cute boy shrieked, his face reddening in anger under his freckles, as he actually stamped his feet, "I want FRIES and some COOKIES and some PIE!"
"Those foodstuffs will not provide suitable nutrition for a child your age," Castiel told him sternly, keeping a firm hold on the screaming boy's hand. "You will consume a healthy lunch consisting of a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and juice. If your demeanour is adequately polite, you may have a small treat afterwards. Perhaps a cupcake."
"I don't want a frigging cupcake!" shouted Dean, flailing at Castiel with his other hand, "I WANT PIE!"
"Dean, cease your tantrum immediately," instructed Castiel.
"I WANT PIE!" Dean screamed.
"Dean, you will do as I tell you. I am your legitimate adult authority figure right now, and you will obey me," insisted the angel.
"Sandwiches taste like crap!" raged Dean, pounding at Castiel with his free hand. "Get me PIE!"
"This sort of language and behaviour is unacceptable, Dean," Castiel told him. "Stop it now."
"Shut up!" howled Dean, aiming a kick at the angel's shin, "GET ME PIE!"
"Dean, if you do not stop this unacceptable display of selfishness, rudeness and bad temper, it will be incumbent upon me to discipline you," Castiel warned.
"SCREW YOU, YOU DICK!" Dean screeched, aiming another kick, "I WANT SOME FUCKING PIE!"
"Er, Cas, maybe I should..." began Sam.
Before he finish that sentence, in a lightning move Castiel dropped to one knee, simultaneously pulling Dean across it, and...
swat – swat – swat - swat
The smacks landing on Dean's posterior rang out through the diner.
Dean's eyes bugged in shock, and he drew breath to start wailing at the top of his lungs.
Before he could even start, Castiel pulled him upright, stared into his brimming green eyes, and intoned,
"Dean Winchester, if you make another sound other than the words 'please' or 'thank you' for the next twenty minutes, I will, I believe the phrase is, 'give you something to really cry about'. Do you understand me?"
Dean gaped in horror, eyes wide, and drew in a couple of gasping breaths, but he nodded silently.
"Very well. We will take our seats, and await your food." Sam joined them as they made their way to a table. The other occupants of the diner gave Castiel a round of applause.
"That was some very impressive child-wrangling, Cas," smiled Sam, as Dean sat quietly.
"No child can be allowed to behave so badly and not be called out for it," said the angel seriously, "Disciplining them is ultimately for their own good. And I'm sure that Dean would much rather be well-behaved. Isn't that right, Dean?"
Dean nodded warily.
The waitress who brought their order out had been in the kitchen when Castiel had disciplined Dean. The boy thanked her politely as she put his sandwich down in front of him.
"Can't you just be a little angel when you want to?" she smiled at him. Dean gave her a tentative little smile back, then started on his sandwich.
The waitress laughed. "I wish you'd come over to my place some weekends, and deal with my grandchildren," she said to Castiel, "I don't know what you did, but it was obviously effective."
Castiel glanced down at Dean, with one of his barely-there Guardian Angel On Duty smiles, and replied.
"I gripped him tight, chastised him for sedition."