Title: Adventures in Diplomacy (or how Castiel and Crowley Got Stuck On Earth Helping With the Cleanup) – Ch 3
Universe: Supernatural
Theme/Topic: Antics
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Cas, Dean, Bobby, Sam, Crowley (slightly more blatant DeanxCas in this chapter because I totally want them to make out one day)
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers through 5x21 (and then pretty much AU). MOAR blasphemy! Some crack. Randomness and stupidity.
Word Count: 1,235
Summary: On the nature of receiving Revelation and the dirty jokes that ensue because demons and angels are all classy bitches.
Dedication: torrentialrain, since this is mostly her fault in the first place.
A/N: I wrote seven pages of script today. That entitles me to some recreational stuff, right? Sure. Because I don't recreate enough. Also, I am completely unfunny, but at least I am definitely having fun.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
3. In Which There is Some Heated Debate, the Usual Idiocy, and a Little Weekend Revelation
Castiel is the only angel in all of Heaven who receives Revelation. To be fair, he's earned it.
DEAN makes a conscious effort not to speak to Joshua (except for that one time He called Joshua a Dick with a capital D) and spending time with the other angels makes DEAN uncomfortable because of all the Super Gay Things they tend to say to Him when He's there (things like how they adore His radiance and admire His perfection and how they are going to write some awesome songs and sing them in His honor with the hopes that His glory will be known to all mankind through the raising of their totally sweet voices).
DEAN doesn't find that very cool, so when DEAN has things to say to the angels, it is usually via Castiel, or on occasion Bobby, when Bobby can be bothered.
But it's mostly Castiel, because Castiel doesn't throw things at DEAN's head and tell Him to do His own damned job and stop bothering him like Bobby does.
"I wonder what Revelation with DEAN is like," some of the angels sigh longingly as they do their work on Earth, and Bobby usually snorts at them from the car he is scrapping and tells them to hand him a DEAN-damned wrench.
"I bet it is pure enlightenment," one speculates under his breath, wide-eyed with equal parts fascination and trepidation as he obediently hands Bobby his wrench. "The twining of Castiel's Grace and His Soul in complete understanding." He sighs romantically. "It is no wonder our brother always shines so bright."
"I hear they actually speak to one another," a second counters, vaguely scandalized. "With their mouths. Castiel brazenly tells Him what he thinks, too."
"I also heard they use their mouths," a slightly more Earth-experienced angel mutters, cheeks flushed. "But not for talking." Pause. "If you know what I mean."
Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't.
"Kissing," he clarifies in a red-faced whisper-scream, when they don't.
Bobby throws a lug nut at their heads at that point and tells them to come closer and glow so he can see things under the engine.
"Idjits," he mutters as he works.
"Dude, sorry, Bobby," they all say, contritely.
In Hell, the theories about Revelation are slightly less reverent.
"Through the wall, I'll bet," a grinning demon reports to his cohorts, as a couple of them stand idly around the water cooler during their lunch breaks. "I mean, that's what it sounded like when I was in the waiting room during my first tour. Banging." He waggles his eyebrows and makes an obscene pantomime with one of his hands to cement his point.
Crowley sees it and thinks that it'd be more accurate if he used both hands.
"That's hot," some of the female demons murmur dreamily. "Do you think He drinks angel blood to get juiced during?"
"Does that count as incest? Like, He is sort of their Step-Father in all of this. Or does it only count if there are two angels or two WINCHESTERS involved first?"
"Hmmm," the demons say, and the collective of their thoughts on the matter is strong enough to cause the after-images of their ideas to flash in Crowley's head because he is standing nearby, innocently pouring himself some coffee before his meeting with SAM.
It burns.
At that point, their boss pokes his head out of his office to glare down the hall at them, apparently experiencing something similar. "Thanks guys. Blind forever now," he gripes.
"Sorry!" they say, all sweetness.
SAM bitchfaces at them a little more and then goes back to work, waving Crowley into his office for his one o'clock.
The demons around the water cooler surreptitiously slap each other low-fives once the door closes behind him.
The next time that the Archangel Castiel goes to receive Revelation, the lights are dim in DEAN's apartment and good food smells are coming from the kitchen.
"Dean," Castiel says as he enters, and while he knows DEAN doesn't like it when he brings work in to the room with him, he feels that this is important. Mostly because Michael had boomed to him over the phone about how it was important, and will probably be calling every five minutes to make sure it has been properly announced to DEAN because it is so important. "Michael has written you a letter."
From the kitchen, the microwave beeps, and DEAN mutters a few choice words under His breath when He inevitably burns Himself on hot steam in the process.
"No work!" He shouts back over his shoulder. "It's Revelation time."
Castiel frowns but dutifully loosens his tie and removes his trench coat. "Michael wishes to inform us that he has made his McDonald's restaurant the most efficient and wickedly awesome McDonald's on Earth, but that in the process, several of his employees have threatened to kill themselves and each other after being overworked. Thus far he has concluded that most humans are weak-willed and disobedient."
DEAN frowns as He comes out of the kitchen, a fresh bowl of popcorn in His hands. "Did they fire him?"
Castiel shakes his head. "No, they have promoted him to the corporate office. He wanted you to know. In case you wished to contact him. Or visit. He has stated that that is fine too. He wrote that he would make you the best hamburger in the world should you choose to see him. And the best chocolate milkshake, which he is working diligently on perfecting. Amongst other things." Pause. Frown. "It seems he would like to see you very much."
DEAN just snorts, looking pointedly at the Archangel. "No work."
That said, He plucks the letter out of Castiel's hands and throws it unceremoniously over His shoulder.
Castiel nods solemnly as the paper flutters to the ground behind DEAN, and the only thing that betrays his seriousness is the slight crinkling in the corners of his eyes, giving the Archangel a decided air of fond triumph, knowing that his place as DEAN's favorite is secure despite Michael's myriad promises. "I apologize, Dean. I will speak of it no longer." He carefully hangs his trench coat over the side of a nearby armchair.
DEAN just grunts and pushes Castiel down onto the lumpy couch before plopping down beside him so that the two of them are shoulder-to-shoulder facing the TV. He slides the popcorn bowl in His hands into Castiel's lap.
"So what'd we learn last Revelation?" He asks, more likely because He's forgotten Himself than because he actually wants Castiel to review.
The Archangel purses his lips in thought. "I have had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane," he recites after a moment, brow furrowed. "I believe."
DEAN's laughs as He grabs the DVD remote and hits play. "You're awesome, Cas," He says, for no particular reason.
From there Castiel quietly preens to himself, the opening credits to Robin Hood Men in Tights go up on the TV, and DEAN and His Archangel spend the next two hours splitting a bowl of popcorn in the dingy one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment that is considered The House of the Lord.
Castiel is the only angel in Heaven allowed to receive the Revelation of DEAN like this.
To be fair, he's earned it.
END