ANYWAY, now that we’re really only two weeks away (from the Supernatural S5 premiere. Y’all got that, right?) I thought I’d celebrate by posting a ficlet a day. Most of these were written for various comment fic memes over the course of the summer, but I never posted them here or anywhere but in the threads, so hopefully they’ll be new to most people. And since I’m a few short of
Ahem. Let us now proceed to ficlet the first:
Title: Sharing Is Caring
Pairings: Dean/Castiel & Sam/Ruby
Spoilers: None! Really very AU at this point!
Length: ~1,100 words
Summary: Sequel to Quarters. For the kink_meme prompt, “Cas and Ruby discuss the merits of their respective bedmates.”
Sharing Is Caring
Ruby would be the first to establish, for the benefit of anyone who might be interested, that she had many fine qualities. Impulse-control was not, however, one of them.
“I don’t feel like we’ve ever really bonded, Cas. You know? Come get a drink with me. We can bond. There can be bonding. All right?”
“All right,” said Castiel.
They left Sam and Dean drooling into their pillows and walked across the motel parking lot to a bar called (somewhat confusingly) The Cozy Inn. Ruby decided, impulsively, that it would be fun if she could get the angel to do shots.
The answer was: no. She could not. (Dean had actually already tried this months ago, and if he couldn’t do it, his brother’s demon girlfriend certainly wasn’t going to have better luck.)
So Ruby did shots. Ruby did a lot of shots. Castiel watched her do them, sitting across from her at their booth and holding a glass of beer, the level of liquid in which decreased at periodic intervals without him ever raising it to his lips. Ruby began to feel like she was watching a TV show with some serious continuity problems.
This was okay, though, because she was also beginning to feel really happy.
“He’s just so big,” she said. They were talking about Sam. Or, well, she was taking about Sam. Castiel was watching her with his impassive blue eyes and really not holding up his end of the bonding experience. “I mean, his hands—you’ve seen his hands! They’re big hands! And they’re,” she leaned over so her chin was practically buffing the table, “they’re not the only thing that’s big, ifyouknowwhatImean.”
She waited for a reaction and got what may have been a millimeter of eyebrow lift. “Uh…” she said. “You do know what I mean, right? His penis,” she whispered, before Castiel could respond. “It’s like…” She tried her fingers at varying distances apart, tilting her head as she tried to get the dimensions right. “Like…yeah.” She put her hands down, lightly slapping the wood. “What was I talking about?”
“Sam’s penis,” prompted Castiel, helpfully.
“Right! Right. ’S very nice. You should try it some—wait, no. ’s mine. You have Dean’s. Dean’s. Not Sam’s. Right.” She looked around for the rest of her shots, but they appeared to be missing. She frowned. Castiel passed the remainder of his beer across the table to her. Ruby studied it. She thought. “Beer before shots, won’t feel as you ought. Shots before beer, you’re in the clear. Awesome! Okay. Now where were we?” Bonding. They were bonding. She snapped her fingers. “Dean’s penis! Tell me about, you know, that.”
Castiel hesitated. “Aww, come on, Cas!” She leaned forward again, accidentally trailing her hair through something sticky. “I shared! You can share with me. Sharing is caring,” she added, primly.
“I’m not sure I understand what you would like to know,” Castiel said.
“Well, like…” Ruby giggled. “Do you guys actually do it? Sam and I aren’t sure. I bet him five dollars.”
Still the angel appeared to be prevaricating. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘do it’…”
“No,” said Ruby. She brought her forehead down to rest on the table. “No, no, no—don’t give me any of that Bill Clinton crap. Do you do it, yes or no? Tell me you do,” she continued, before Castiel could do more than open his mouth. “If you just do boring angelic things like hold hands and weave each other promise bracelets I’m going to be so depressed. And I’m going to owe Sam money. He can be a real bitch about that.” She sniffed. “It’s a good thing he has such a big penis.”
Her head had somehow ended up on the table again. “Ruby?” she heard the angel ask gently, which despite what Hallmark seemed to think, was actually kind of an oxymoron, an angel being gentle, “Are you all right?”
“I’m just sad,” she said. “I’m sad that angels don’t get to have sex. What’s the point of being good if you don’t get to have sex or do shots or be friends with anybody? That’s not good, that’s lame. Laaaaaaaame.” She burped. “’Scuse me.”
She could feel Castiel watching her. Oh, this had been a bad idea. Bonding with an angel—what was she thinking? There was a reason they drove in separate cars and the two of them spent as little time together as possible. This was the reason. They were like cats and dogs. Without Sam and Dean keeping a hand on their collars, it wasn’t a good idea for them to even be in the same room.
“Ruby. Ruby!” She looked up. Castiel was staring at her. There was something behind his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t read, a heat…
“I let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,” the angel said in a low voice, and before Ruby could roll her eyes, he pressed on, voice steady, vehement. “I let him kiss me and at first I did not feel a thing, I thought myself incapable, but I should know by now that we redefine the impossible every day—we do, all four—and so slowly, slowly, I felt this borrowed flesh awaken beneath his touch, come alive beneath those heady lips until I felt as if I were on fire, but he licked cool my burning skin, he took me into his mouth and made me rise for him—lifted me up as I had once lifted him, remade him with my hands; and so too he put his hands on me, remade me, coated his fingers in myrrh and put his hand in the hole of the door, and I rose up to open to my beloved; I opened to my beloved, and he rose above me like a mountain, his arms like pillars of marble, his mouth most lovely; and we moved together, rocked like the shifting of the mountain, and together we were one, we knew each other fully and completely.”
Castiel sat back, his spine straight, his palms placed flat on the table. “I hope,” he said, as Ruby gawked and made a noise like she had lost track of her tongue, “that that answers your question sufficiently.” Then, his mouth curving slightly like a lax bow, he lifted a hand and signaled the waiter for the check.
By morning, Ruby had two things: a disgusting hangover and a crisp new five-dollar bill in her pocket.
Continued in Heaven or Las Vegas.
1. Uh. Song of Songs represent?
2. I miss Ruby, you guys. (Or at least, who I thought Ruby could’ve been.) Tell me I’m not alone?
3. TWO WEEKS!