glasslogic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glasslogic) wrote2011-02-11 05:07 am
glasslogic) wrote2011-02-11 05:07 am
Entry tags:
LAS Challenge #13
Story Title: Love and Other Strangers (LAS Prompt #13 - "It's not you, it's me. I just don't like you")
Name: glasslogic
Characters: Sam, Dean, assorted others
Disclaimer: I have no rights to any of the copyrighted characters/material in this fic, and I make no
Rating: PG
Word Count: 986
Warnings/Spoilers: Some language, brief mention of events from 5.14, but not necessarily a smooth fit with canon after that episode.
This story is for the SPN Last Author Standing challenge, one prompt a week, one story per prompt, one author voted off each cycle until only one is left. Stories must be between 100 - 1000 words. No betas allowed, voting is completely blind.
Note: Love and Other Strangers was written for the 13th and final prompt of the LAS Round 1 challenge. It won over the fantastic All Sale's Final by ratherastory, to my continuing amazement. It's a little cheesy (my story, not hers! *grins*) but I liked it for the prompt and seemed a good fit for February in general. Another one of those cases where "gee, if I only had 500 more words I could really make this work..." but I have that thought every week... Thanks to everyone who has been voting and leaving feedback, or even just reading the ficlets -- it's generally been a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to the next round!
Dean stepped out of the shower and straight into a bone-crushing hug. He struggled and swore, but was seeing spots from oxygen deprivation before he was released. Staggering free, he swore even louder as he saw his assailant. It was Castiel’s freaking overgrown cherub from their fucked-up encounter with Famine. Still pudgy, baby faced and looking way too happy to see him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean growled, clutching his towel and backing away.
“I came to find you!” it announced happily. “I’ve been bringing people together for ages, but until now, believed I was beyond such feelings.”
“What feelings?” Dean asked warily.
“Passion! Romance! I felt it in the first time we met,” the cherub prattled on in a tone that reminded a horrified Dean of his first high school girlfriend. “I just knew we were meant to be! But I had to wait to get you alone.” Its eyes rolled upwards meaningfully.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean said flatly. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden spill of tears as the cherub collapsed, shoulders shaking with sobs. Guilt welled up unexpectedly, like he had just kicked a puppy or something.
“Uh, hey. Don’t do that.” Dean patted its back awkwardly; grateful Sam was off finding dinner and not around to witness this. “Look, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice cherub. I’m just ...not into guys, you know?”
The cherub looked at Dean, eyes still shimmering with tears. “That’s why you don’t want me?”
Dean nodded solemnly, faking a look of regret.
Dean’s lungs fought for air again as the cherub scooped him into another rib-cracking hug. Then it vanished.
Grabbing his phone, Dean placed a frantic call to Castiel. The angel didn’t pick up.
~~~<3~~~
Friday night and the boys were killing time in a local bar. Sam was nursing his beer in the corner, a brooding scowl guaranteeing his solitude. Dean, on the other hand, was feeling quite sociable and the liquor helped him focus in on a busty waitress who seemed to find him fascinating. But as he leaned in to suggest they find a more private location after her shift, the friendly waitress was forcefully shoved aside.
Before he could react, someone shrieked, “Back off, bitch! He’s mine!”
Over the downed waitress stood a woman of sublime charms. She glared murderously for a moment before turning to Dean with a victorious smile.
“Dean! Dean, I’m a girl now!”
It was the cherub.
Dean groaned. He knew the night had been going too well. Mumbling a quick apology to the stunned waitress, he threw his brother a “don’t bother to ask” look, and dragged the cherub outside.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled furiously.
The cherub looked honestly confused.
“But ...but, you said if I was a girl, then we could be together...”
“I said what?” Dean wracked his brain. It had been a few days ago, but he was pretty damn sure he hadn’t said that.
“You said--“
“I said I wasn’t into guys,” Dean cut in. “I didn’t say that was the only issue.”
The cherub’s face crumpled, dissolving into tears.
Dean felt shitty and furious both. “Look, it’s not--“
“Is it the hair?” the cherub demanded. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? I bet you like it longer, right?”
Dean seemed to be rapidly losing his ground. “Yes, but--“
The cherub disappeared.
Dean left Castiel several nasty voicemails, but the angel never called back.
~~~<3~~~
One silky leg slid over his own as warm, curvy flesh molded against him. Dean felt lazy interest curl through his body and shifted to wrap his arms around her. He wanted to hang onto this dream as long as possible. He was just nuzzling her neck when she blew gently in his ear and whispered seductively, “I went for waist length.”
Dean yelled, and bolted straight up. His uninvited guest slid to the floor in a tangle of sheets, leaving Dean naked and pissed on the bare mattress. Light flooded the room and he saw Sam standing by the switch, pistol trained at the disheveled intruder.
“What the fuck is going on, Dean?” his brother demanded.
“Nothing,” Dean snapped, dodging an explanation.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, taking in the scene. “This is nothing?”
“What is your problem?” the cherub crossed sulky arms under an ample chest, pouting between silky strands of long, golden hair. “I’m female, I have long hair. I’m perfect for you! Let’s have some romance.”
“Romance?” Sam lowered the gun slowly, looking confused. The cherub gave him a dismissive sniff.
“Romance?” Dean repeated scathingly. “Romance is candy, flowers and all of that other Valentine’s Day crap. Not showing up naked in someone’s bed and scaring the shit out of them!”
The cherub looked determined. “Valentines?”
Dean’s eyes widened. “No, wait--!”
The room took on the theme of an exploded Hallmark store. Foil hearts and lacy doilies covered every wall. The two double beds were now a massive heart shaped mattress with the cherub posed coyly in the center.
“Better?” it enquired
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean spun, and almost hugged the newcomer. “Cas! Where the hell have you been!?”
“Elsewhere. What is the problem?”
Dean jerked an exasperated thumb towards the cherub. Following an audible gasp from the bed, the room became blissfully empty of all visitors. Dean was left facing Sam and a conversation he had been hoping desperately to avoid.
~~~<3~~~
“I am very sorry, Dean. It happens sometimes, with cherubs of a certain age.” Castiel said later, after he had returned and fixed the room.
“They become stalkers?!”
“They can develop inappropriate attachments.”
“As long as they can undevelop them,” Dean growled.
Castiel said nothing.
“Cas? They can undevelop them, right?”
“I am sorry, Dean.” The angel spread helpless hands. “We have the cherub contained for now, but I fear the two of you will have to work something out. I have heard of this thing called ‘couples therapy...’”
END
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"gee, if I only had 500 more words I could really make this work..." LOL, the thousand word limit was a challenge, wasn't it?
I have to admit, I didn't vote for your story, but I really, really wanted to. I totally enjoyed it, and all your entries and can't wait to see what you all come up with next round!
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The word limit is definitely a challenge, I'm not usually given to...ah, brevity *dryly*
*amused* I understand the dilemma, I'm always torn between stories too when I'm voting! Glad you enjoyed this one! Currently I'm planning to play next round, it's an extra source of stress I don't really need *dryly* but it keeps me writing which is good for my brain so... *grins* I hope to see some old faces back! *eyes meaningfully*
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