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#12x07 – @almaasi on Tumblr
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Tales of an Injured Fog Rat

@almaasi / almaasi.tumblr.com

Elmie. 31, they/them, Aotearoa New Zealand. Words-witch and illustrator of soft queer fiction.
"[Elmie is] not an un-charming person." - Siddig el Fadil, July 2nd 2021
highkey: ⋆ Rabbit LightningRhett & Link ⋆ lowkey: ⋆ GarashirGood OmensDestiel ⋆ ⋆ intersectional feminism ⋆ misc. ⋆
☆ · · · nsfw on occasion
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12.07 coda

Sam isn’t much up for talking after tonight. That’s cool, it’s understandable. That move with the door earlier was pretty sweet, so Dean lets him have the space he needs. He’s been a little touchy lately anyway.

While Sam takes a lap to burn off some steam, Dean looks over at Castiel.

Crowley rocks back on his heels. “Well. I’m going to go… find some ice. For the eye,” he mumbles, and then he shuffles away.

“You sure you’re ok?” Dean asks, once he’s sure that Crowley’s gone.

Castiel’s shoulders sag. He rubs at his eyes. “Sure.”

Dean reaches out to grab Castiel’s elbow, before he thinks better of it and shoves his hand into his pocket instead. Castiel’s got a bloodstain on the collar of his coat. Dean nods at it. “That’ll come out, right?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel sighs.

Dean scowls. “Alright, fine, be a bitch about it,” he grumbles.

“Can we not do that tonight?” The request is weary and sad, but totally heartfelt. No more fighting, please. The cut on his cheek drips sluggishly still.

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“Can’t believe you called me third-tier.”

“Well, I can’t believe you called me a lumberjack.”

“There are other patterns in the world besides plaid, Dean.”

Sam just rolls his eyes and sticks his earbuds in.

“And why is my name like this?”

“Like what?”

Cas shoves something into Dean’s face and Dean smacks his hand away, scowling at him in the rearview.

“Cool it, I’m driving—”

They squabble all the way to the next light, and Cas leans forward again, dangling Dean’s phone in front of his face. Dean tries to uncross his eyes, squinting at the four tiny letters on the screen.

“Uh…”

Cass,” Cas says impatiently. “Cass.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, shrugging. “So?”

Cas heaves a long-suffering sigh, falling back.

“It’s Castiel, not Casstiel. A second ‘s’? Where did that even come from—”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Dude, calm down.” 

“It makes no sense.”

Dean runs a hand over his face.

“I don’t know, okay? Maybe Claire messed with my phone. Or Sam.”

“Wasn’t me,” Sam mutters, but he quickly shuts up with a glare from Dean.

Cas is still muttering to himself.

“I suppose, if you want to get technical, there is no ‘s’ in my name at all, in Enochian it’s a post-alveolar fricative—”

Dean huffs.

“Give it rest, Cas. It literally does not matter.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh. Really.”

He sits back, pulling out his own phone.

“Well, fine,” he says, thumbs flying furiously over the keyboard. Dean frowns, glancing back at him.

“What are you doing?”

Cas doesn’t look up from the screen.

“Changing your name to Deann. D-E-A-N-N.”

“Dude, what the hell—”

Cas deftly evades the grab Dean makes for his phone, smirking.

“You’re the one that said it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

Dean hits the brakes and pulls the car into park, swiveling in his seat.

“Change it back,” he says, glaring at Cas. 

“No,” he says stubbornly, arms crossed.

“Fine.” 

Dean snatches up his phone from where Cas abandoned it, opening up Cas’s contact info.

“Then you’re going in as ‘asswipe’.”

Cas narrows his eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Holy tax accountant?”

“No.”

“Huggy Bear.”

“Dean—”

Dean smirks, tucking his phone away.

“Too late.”

He turns back to the road, grinning to himself. They pull back on the highway, back to Lawrence.

A couple miles later, Dean snaps his fingers.

“I got it! Asstiel, that’s where the second s comes from—”

That earns him a cuff on the ear, and another stoppage as Dean retaliates and almost starts a full-on wrestling match that threatens to spill over into the backseat—until Sam yells at them to cool it.

“Guys, I’m right here.”

Cas flops back in the seat, smirking. Dean tries to comb his hair back into place, scowling.

They drive again, and some time after, Dean’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

One New Text Message 

From: Sunshine

you’re making this up to me later

Dean grins.

After a moment, it vibrates again.

From: Sunshine

bring that leather jacket.

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