A/N: Hello everyone and happy Friday!
The idea for this one-shot came from a somewhat unexpected source. So, I've been binge-watching the Supernatural convention panels on YouTube (which are all hilarious, by the way) and there is one Jensen/Misha panel that features a mess of glitter. A fan made something for Jensen and Misha covered in pink glitter, Misha got it all over his hands, and he wiped it off on Jensen. The result is funny. If you want to watch the video, you can find it by searching it on YouTube: "Jensen and Misha, 2015 Jib6 panel." I highly recommend it; those two are wonderful and entertaining together!
And so this idea was born, with a little bit of role reversal. Enjoy!
Glitter
As part of the job, Sam was used to returning to a rundown motel like something straight out of Psycho to find his brother in strange situations. Strangeness didn't have the same definition for the Winchesters as it did for other, more normal people. One time Sam walked in on Dean's third orgasm, induced not by a beautiful woman, but by a vibrating bed he'd fed with quarters. Another time they had stayed at one of those raunchy, only-good-for-affairs motels with a mirror on the ceiling and...he still could not think about what Dean had done while staring up at that mirror without shuddering.
From experience, he got used to closing his eyes as he first stepped into their motel room, unsure of what he might find Dean doing this time when left to his own devices.
He never once imagined he would see his brother dipping his bare hands into a salad bowl full of rainbow glitter. All he could imagine, as he listened to the wet plop-plop-plop and watched the pink-purple-gold flecks sprinkle from Dean's fingertips, was that his brother finally slaughtered a baby unicorn and was now performing a satanic ritual with its blood.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam spoke softly, like he would speak to someone not in their right mind. Dean's green eyes locked with his, but he didn't offer any word of explanation. Plop-plop-plop. "Aren't you a little old for finger-painting?" Dean's expression turned into a sour one.
"I'm doing an experiment, dumbass." Sam knew he shouldn't ask, but...
"Experiment?" he parroted back. He tossed the keys to Dean, out of habit after each time he drove the Impala. The keys landed in the middle of the bowl, sinking into that goopy, glittery mess. Dean glared and fished them out of the bowl, laying them on a piece of unfolded newspaper to dry. Then it was back to plop-plop-plop. "Seriously, dude, what are you trying to prove? That you can still attract more women than I can if you cover yourself in full-body glitter?"
"That's probably true." As he said it, Dean pointed a finger at Sam and a thick drop of wet glitter landed on Sam's cheek. "But no. You ever notice how Cas has this thing about being touched? He's like one of those germophobes."
"Yeah, well," Sam sighed and hurried over to the mirror to see if all the glitter had been scrubbed off his cheek. It was red from rubbing, but dammit, there was still one tiny speck left. "He's practically an alien, Dean. Give him time to warm up to human beings first. One of these days, he might surprise you with a bear hug. Ouch!"
Sam scraped the glitter away with his nail, only for a bead of blood to follow. That glitter had been nearly embedded in his skin.
"Here's my master plan: I'm going to see how much that little nerd angel can stand." Plop-plop-plop.
"Why?" Dean wasn't exactly the touchy type, either.
"Because," Dean answered shortly, as if he was five years old again and because was a good enough reason. Finally, Dean took his hands out of the bowl of rainbow glitter and wiggled his fingers, making a few stray drops speckle the table. "I think that should do it. Get rid of the evidence, Sammy."
"Why do I have to clean up your mess?" Sam complained, shaking his head at the bowl of glitter. The last thing he wanted was to spill any more unicorn-vomit on himself just to find that it wouldn't come out without some serious scrubbing.
"Because!" Dean repeated. "I'm about to get this experiment started. Evidence, Sam!" With a low muttering of "jerk"-to which Dean responded with "bitch" in class knee-jerk reaction-he collected the bowl of glitter with extreme caution. He even snapped on blue latex gloves before he touched it.
Carrying it into the bathroom, he left the bowl in the sink for Dean to take care of. The newspapers were balled up and tossed into the trash with a satisfying swoosh. The glittery keys were wrapped in a damp towel from the floor and left on the edge of the sink to dry. Control freak that he was, Sam scribbled quickly on a yellow Post-It note so they wouldn't forget the keys when they decided to hit the road. Not that they would get far without them, but anything that came between Dean and his Baby made Dean prone to anxiety.
Poking his head out of the bathroom, he watched Dean perch on the edge of his bed, flexing his sloppy fingers and admiring his work like a woman gloating over a fresh manicure. Normally, Sam's brotherly instincts were much stronger when it came to cleaning up Dean's messes, urging him to protest, but he was genuinely curious about how this "experiment" would turn out. Only Dean would be bold enough to humiliate an angel.
"Whenever you're ready," Sam signaled, leaning against the doorframe to watch the magic happen. He would have tried summoning Cas himself, but for some reason Sam was reluctant to admit, Cas' response time was faster for Dean than it was for him. Dean closed his eyes and mockingly made the sign of the cross, leaving behind a trail of glitter on his forehead and shirt. Sam snickered. Dean shushed him with a finger to his lips-now he looked like Queen Amidala with rainbow lipstick.
"Cas?" Dean called out. They waited several moments, but nothing happened. Maybe he was actually busy for once in Heaven. "Okay, I'll pull out the big guns. You're my angel-come and save me tonight…" As usual, the prayers that Dean sent to Cas were little more than a joke on his part.
"Are you quoting Aerosmith's "Angel"?" Sam asked. Not too long ago, Dean had blasted the song in the Impala and had belted out to it. Dean opened his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed that Sam had recognized it.
"You have any better prayers? Be my guest. It was either that or Sarah McLachlan." Sam held up his hand, not willing to take the chance. Apparently, it was a good enough prayer, because the room was filled with the sound of flapping wings, and Cas appeared, seemingly out of thin air to stand before them, trench coat and all.
"Yes, Dean? I flew down as quickly as I could." Of course you did, Sam thought with a little spark of jealousy, if he was being honest. The question was inquiring more than it was impatient, the angel in Cas ready to obey any command the Winchesters gave. Sam couldn't help but notice how often he was stuck staring at the back of Cas' dark head, the majority of Cas' attention devoted to Dean.
By now, Dean knew his brother too well and mouthed the word jealous. Sam mouthed back not, though he crossed his arms and jutted out his bottom lip like a child. He was the one that prayed every day, he was the one that believed in a higher power even when Dean mocked it, yet Dean ended up with an angel as a best friend. So he was a little jealous.
Well, right now, Dean was going to prove his affection by pranking said angel, even if the angel in question was unaware of it.
"Oh, Cas, buddy, am I glad to see you. Come here," Dean welcomed him with too much enthusiasm to be sincere. Jumping up from the bed, he spread his arms wide, prepared to hug Cas. The angel noticed Dean's glitter-drenched hands and took a hesitant step back, flinching like he was about to be electrocuted instead. "Gee, look at this mess! Yikes!"
Dean made an exaggerated face of disgust, wrinkling his nose, and doing a poor job of shaking the glitter off his hands. Flakes of sparkly red, gold, silver, and purple splashed Cas' neat tie and lapels. He gaped at the stain as though it was acid that would burn clean through his vessel formerly known as Jimmy Novak.
Meanwhile, Sam was suddenly grateful that Cas could not see his face, because it was turning beet-red as Sam fought a losing battle to hold in his laughter. Never once had he heard Dean utter words like "gee" and "yikes."
"It's all over my hands," Dean lamented and clucked his tongue in shame. Then the real fun came. Sam watched over Cas' shoulder as Dean first contemplated his shiny hands and then Cas' previously spotless attire. "Here, Cas, stand still for a moment."
To Cas' utmost discomfort and Sam's amusement, Dean deliberately closed the distance between them and wiped the glitter on Cas' sleeve. First the palm, then the back of his hand, leaving a streak of glitter behind like snot on a Kleenex. Sam bit his tongue to stifle his giggles, but it proved too much when Cas began to hyperventilate through his nose, as lifeless in stance as Michelangelo's statue of David. When he finally turned his head to send Sam a helpless, pleading stare, his blue eyes wide as Baby's rims, Sam doubled over and burst out laughing. Bambi was less startled than Cas was now.
"Oh, no, wait," Dean moaned. Clearly, he wasn't satisfied with his experiment yet. "I got glitter all over your pretty, clean trench coat. Let me brush it off." Dean reached forward and Cas stumbled back, staring wildly at Dean's hand as if it was a gun instead.
"Please stop," Cas croaked out, in a way Sam found truly pitiful.
"Why? I'm being a good human being! You see, Cas, us humans...we like to touch each other. Walk down any street and I guarantee there will be other grubby, feely humans just like me." Cas gulped loudly. Sam was certain that the angel was having second thoughts about slumming with humanity. If Dean wasn't careful, they might never get Cas to answer their prayers again.
"Okay, Dean," Sam interrupted, catching his breath. He stepped forward and offered Cas some well-deserved cover. "I think you've had enough fun for one day."
"Yeah, okay. It was a stupid joke. Sorry, Cas." Dean held out his hand in a show of surrender, but Cas didn't accept it. In fact, Cas wasn't moving at all. Sam wasn't sure if angels needed to breathe, but still Cas was rigid in muscle, tight-lipped, and frozen in fear. If they hadn't known Cas from Adam, they might have mistaken him for a colorful wax figure instead of a celestial being.
"Hey, Cas, you alright?" Sam asked, gently prodding the angel on the shoulder. Even that small touch brought fresh tension under the fabric of his suit, every fiber of Cas' being screaming do not touch.
"Uh, Cas? Castiel?" Dean snapped his fingers in front of Cas' face, but he didn't even blink. Sam waved. Dean stroked his chin thoughtfully, painting a glittery beard there. "Huh. Fascinating results."
"Well, I think it's safe to say your experiment was a success, Dean. You succeeded in breaking our angel."
"Whoops." Note to self, Sam thought as they flocked around Cas, trying and failing to fix him. Cas hates glitter.
...
A/N: As always, I must thank everyone for taking the time to read. I also want to thank Emma Winchester 424 for the awesome review: that last one-shot was more emotional than the others, and I felt it was a necessary one between the boys. And you're right; Sam and Dean are the heart of this series and we know they'll stand together until the very end.