For those of you following this, here’s something to let you know I’m not dead or giving up on this!
(Also, all of this is un-betaed, so I appreciate any feedback you can give!)
————-
“I want to get my Dad something for Christmas,” Bobby heard Sam saying to Castiel one day. The two brothers were staying with Bobby while John was on one of his longer hunts, something John probably wouldn’t have left to the elder Singer if Sam hadn’t begged to go see Castiel. And once his son knew that the Winchesters were going to be over for Christmas, Bobby was forced to go find the biggest damn tree that could fit in living room. Idgits.
“Well, what do you want to get him?” Castiel meticulously threaded a piece popcorn along a line of fishing wire and glared at Dean as he was stealing pieces to eat. “Deeean,” Castiel growled (an interesting feat for a ten-year-old, thought Bobby) and levitated the bowl away from Dean.
Sam, coloring paper Christmas ornaments, shrugged. “I don’t know. Something that would protect him while he’s out fighting bad guys!”
Dean grabbed a chair and reached for the bowl hovering midair, just inches from his fingertips. “That’s stupid. Dad doesn’t need any protection. He’s too awesome.”
“I don’t know,” Castiel said, moving the bowl further from Dean’s outstretched fingers. “It wouldn’t hurt to have extra protection, especially if demon’s are involved.”
“Dad fights demons?!” Sam asked, slacked jawed.
“Maybe,” said Castiel.
“Don’t me stupid, demon’s don’t exist,” Dean sneered before taking a flying leap for the popcorn bowl. Castiel grunted with the extra weight as Dean hung from it.
“Yes, they do.” Castiel lowered Dean slowly, gently down, eyes fixed in intent concentration. “And if you’re that determined to have popcorn, why don’t you go make some more?”
“Because, it wouldn’t be any fun like that,” said Dean, grinning as he clutched his prize. “Go make some more for your girly popcorn string, I’ll eat this. And, no, they do not, stupid.”
Castiel stared at Dean with a growing look of confusion. He opened his mouth to protest when Bobby decided now would be a good time to intervene.
“Castiel, just drop it,” Bobby said from his desk. “Dean, for God’s sake, go make more of the damn popcorn.”
Both boys looked him with offended faces, both protesting over each other.
“But, Dad, you know demons—”
“Why do I have to make it—”
“Shut it, you idgits!”
——-
Part of my on-going project: Some Sunny Day. For more, check out these posts here, here, and here.
-
opheliaimmorta1 liked this
-
the-impala-diaries liked this
-
huntersandgrimms liked this
-
allenbl801 liked this
-
happinessandthefish posted this
