The Destiel Show

Skit #2 – Vessel, Ur So Hot

A/N – So when I typed this, my Word kept trying to tell me 'Destiel' wasn't a word. I eloquently told it where to go…by hitting 'Add to Dictionary'. It's a word now, beyotches! I'll call the people at Oxford Dictionary in the morning. :P

Castiel approached the door of the Jester's Inn motel, holding a thick file overflowing with information on their latest hunt – a coven of bloodthirsty vampires that were preying on hunters.

As soon as the opened the door – the Winchesters never locked it despite having the most to hide; "The things we fear don't need a door" Dean would say – Sam pulled him into a clasped-hands, back-clapping hug.

"Yo, Count Castiel, what's crackalacking my brotha?!" he drawled in his 'gangsta' inflection.

"What did I say, Sam?" sighed Castiel. "If I ever become a famous, commercial rapper, I wanna be called 'DJ Cazzalicious'. Got it?"

Sam pouted in a rather un-'gangsta' way and said: "But Count Castiel sounds SO much cooler!"

"Right," smiled Castiel. "So all the other rappers can tell me I 'suck like Dracula?"

"Speaking of Dracula," Dean walked in. "Did you get the info on the vampires?"

Castiel nodded, handing him the file.

"Anyway, Cas, sucking like the Drac wouldn't be so bad – all the other rappers wish they could suck like that. You could totally flip that in your favour!"

Castiel remained tight-lipped. "…of course."

*Cue singing of 'Dirrty' by Christina Aguilera*

* * * *

While Sam went into the library in search of town records, Castiel and Dean lounged under a tree in matching grey corduroys and slim-fitting black Led Zeppelin tee shirts.

"So, this…guy you're possessing – he doesn't want his body back?"

Castiel suddenly looked ill and put the chicken salad sandwich he was eating down. "Well…I've rather grown to like him, haven't you?"

"He's hot," mumbled Dean.

"Pardon?"

"I mean…he's got some rather attr-attractive fea-features that could po-possible deem him…good looking?"

"Why, Dean…I get all tingly when you get wordy like that."

"…You do?"

*Cue singing of Hot by Avril Lavigne*

"SURPRISE!" Dean removed the navy blue handkerchief tied around Castiel's eyes. He opened them to see a restaurant lit by golden candles and quiet save for the hum of couples enjoying dinners together. It was most definitely not Chuck E. Cheese.

"Umm…wow?" Castiel tried, still confused. "Why are we here?"

"Silly rabbit! It's our five-month anniversary! Come on, I'll get the waiter to find out table."

Castiel smiled, touched though he was sure Dean was paying for this from poker money and cons.

Five minutes later

"Yo, so then I was all 'my brova, you ain't SEEN gangsta 'till you seen me!' and he was all 'punch, punch-"

"Did we have to bring him?" sighed Castiel.

Dean shrugged sheepishly. "He likes the bread basket."

Castiel nodded, picking at the slices of cheese-on-toast the restaurant had brought over.

"So Dean…what we were talking about…before. About my vessel?"

"Huh?"

"The man I'm inhabiting?" Castiel explained.

"Dumb it down, Doc."

"The person I'm possessing, Dean," Castiel tried again.

"Do I look like a Nobel prize winner to you?"

Castiel took a deep, pacifying breath. "The dude whose crib I'm all up in, Dean."

"I think I'm beginning to get where you're coming from," said Dean slowly.

"Right. Well, I never told you the truth about him. See…John's dead. He couldn't handle the intensity of our relationship."

"…"

"He…He dies during…intercourse."

"Again with the SAT vocab, Cas!" complained Dean.

"Sex."

"No comprende`."

"HE DIED WHILE WE WERE PLAYING NAKED TWISTER!" exploded Castiel. He heard a spoon clatter to its plate noisily as the whole restaurant turned to gape at them.

Dean was completely oblivious. "Oh."

* * * *