Supernatural Crack🩹tober

           Castiel stares at the gift in Dean’s hand, hoping his face won’t give anything away. Silence, however, tells all. Dean droops the longer he refrains from responding, tie slipping from his grip. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

           “It’s not…” Castiel starts, treading carefully, “not that I don’t like it. But when I said I needed a new tie I was expecting something I could…”

           “You could…?”

           “Use.”

           Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes. “A tie’s a tie, Cas. You can use this one!”

           “I can not,” he hisses, snatching the tie from Dean’s slack grip. Pointing at the figure painted across the fabric, “Wear anything with you naked on it.” Naked and mid-masturbation, the artist capturing the expression of Dean’s orgasm face perfectly. As well as the curve of his penis. The attention to detail amazed Castiel, but it didn’t overpower the intense shock that struck when he saw what Dean held.

           Dean remains nonplussed. “It’s a good tie, Cas,” he says, “and people wear ties like that all the time.”

           “Do they?”

           “I mean… they wear artsy ties.” Dean slinks forward, fingers dancing along Castiel’s neck as his arms lay on his shoulders. “Come on, Cas…” he sings, “can’t you imagine? You and me, working a case. It’s normal at first, but then someone sees what you’ve got on. And then they look at me… and make the connection? Don’t you want everyone in the world to know who I belong to?”

           It’s a vivid image, one that fills Castiel with a fiery rage. He loops the tie over Dean’s neck, pulling him close. To the point where their noses touch. “The universe should know that you are mine, Dean Winchester,” he growls, “but if you think I’d let anyone have the pleasure of seeing you naked that isn’t me… you’re sorely mistaken.”

           Dean grins, cooing. “Jealous?”

           “Practical.” Castiel grinds against him, savoring how Dean’s breath hitched. “We’d never get anything done if people saw this tie. Your body drives people to madness… to sin… to wanton lust. Even now I can barely control myself.”

           “Who asked you to do that?”

           Castiel tears at Dean’s button-down with a single swipe, buttons cascading off of him. “I think I need to really see,” he says, “if the artist got every freckle right.”

           “Have at it, baby.”

🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹

           Sam knocks on Dean’s door, again. Nothing. “Come on, Dean,” he sighs, “I know you’re in there.” He tries one last time. His efforts earn him more nothing.

           Stepping back, he wonders what keeps Dean from answering. He saw his brother sneak over after coming back from town, package hidden behind his back. Thought he was doing a good job hiding when Sam watched the poor display from behind the curtain of his hair. Wrote it off as his brother being an idiot. But he needs the part of Dean that isn’t an idiot, because they’ve got work to do. “Dean!” he goes for the doorknob, “you better have a good reason –“

           He hadn’t noticed it earlier. A piece of fabric tied on the knob, dangling. It’s a tie, from what he can tell. Blue, like Cas’s. Except, as he trails down, Sam sees a glaring difference.

           “Ugh, gross!” he flinches, burned by the sight of his naked brother. Sam covers his eyes, dashing around the corner. “For fuck’s sake Dean, use a sock next time!”

(Day 28 - Unconventional Demon Summoning)

Cracktober Day 31: Group Costume

Happy last day of Cracktober and happy Halloween!

Cracktober Day 30: Bunker’s New Mascot?

Cracktober Day 29: Rejected Castiel Ties

Cracktober Day 28: Unconventional Demon Summoning

Cracktober 31 “group costume” and yes. Jack painted himself and his paint is patchy. Hehe. Thanks @quillsandink-writes for the ideas.

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

           Jack stares at his name, Sam’s quick scrawl legible despite all the wrinkles it held from Dean’s zealous attempts at folding. He rereads the four-letter word instead of glancing up, at three aggravated sets of glares. Each waiting for him to decide.

           They only had a few days before Jody’s Halloween party, and they still could not decide on a costume. What the Winchesters can agree on was making it a group costume. That’s when they ran into their problems.

           “It’d be really funny, Dean,” Sam plead his case, “C’mon… it’s only for a day anyway. And everyone’d know it’d be a joke. What’s so wrong with being a group of hippies?” He shows off his tablet, where an edited photo of their family appears. Outfits replaced with outlandish threads Jack never knew could exist, and hair far past lengths he thought the others were comfortable with. “It’d be a nice change of pace!”

           “You mean before or after my toes purpled from hypothermia,” Dean shot back, sipping at his beer. “You’re not getting me in tie-dye, even if this was happening in Southern California instead of South Dakota.” He sniffs, holding up his phone with another selected image. “Don’t know why you’re against my idea, though. The Scooby Gang are practically hippies in their own right.”

           Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I am not doing that. If we don’t have a dog than what’s the point?” He glances between him and Cas, grimacing, “Besides, I’m won’t be party to helping you fulfill some teenage fantasy, watching you and Cas make out as Fred and Daphne. Keep that shit inside the bedroom.”

           Cas glowers at Sam, fiddling with an antlered headband he picked out earlier when they shopped for costumes. “Which is why you see how I’m not on board with this idea.”

           “Cas, if you’d just try the –“

           “I’m not Daphne, Dean,” Cas reminds him. An argument they’ve often had, judging by the exasperation edged throughout his sigh. “Besides, if you two even pictured how adorable we’d look as deer –“

           “No.” Both brothers pulled the rug out from Cas’s feet, not bothering to listen as Cas goes over – again – how being hunters made this choice the most ridiculous.

           Jack had no plan on what he wanted. The costumes in the shop were fantastic, and he would wear them all if Halloween were more than one night a year. However, if he wants to make a decision fast before the others steamroll ahead. Which meant less listening and further reading. In the article he read as their bickering increased, it said homemade, clever costumes were popular. Things that will bring a sensible chuckle. He tried thinking of ideas like that.

           Sam interrupted his brainstorming with a small thunderclap. “We’ll draw names out of a hat,” he said, “whoever’s name gets picked, they decide on the costume. Fairest way we can go about this, right? As long as we agree to the costumes – no matter what.”

           Dean grumbled his assent, while Cas proudly declared his luck. Jack’s nod went ignored as the three men scrounged for materials. Paper, pen, and an unused hat.

           Now, it all rests on his shoulders. But the mounting pressure weights heavier than the world, and Jack feels his stamina fading. Mind jumping from idea to idea, hoping one will stand out. He can sense the others’ impatience. Sam’s drooping brows, Dean’s curled lip. How Cas taps on the table in rapid pace.

           Dean’s finger does the same thing, and Sam also has a problem where the corners of his mouth bend. Cas’s eyebrows fall to a similar level as Sam’s. Over the years, they’ve adopted similar mannerisms.

           And that’s when it hits. “I’ve got it!”

🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹

           Jody opens the door in a witch’s hat holding a bowl of candy. Her hand reaches inside as she laughs, “Okay, who wants some –“ She finally takes in the group in front of her, and Jody lets the candy slips through her fingers. “Oh… it’s you.” Biting back her giggling, she studies each of their costumes carefully. “Who are you supposed to be?”

           Jack purses his lips, squints, and cocks his head to the side. “We’re Team Free Will,” he declares, grunting, “I’m Dean.”

           Dean waves half-heartedly with the hand not holding Cas’s, pushing bangs from his face that fell over since last he fixed the wig. “Sam.”

           Cas mirrors Dean, although copying Jack’s movements like his reflection with how his fingers bend and straighten. “Hi, I’m Jack.”

           “And I’m Castiel, the Angel of the Lord.” Sam really committed, tying his hair back in a loose ponytail. Trench coat pooling at his sides, kneeling, pantlegs rolled up aiding to this illusion.

           “Team Free Will, huh?” Jody jerks her thumb inside, smirking, “Glad you could make it. I’ve got a couple of demons that could use some exorcising.” She turns into the room, yelling, “Hey everyone! Team Free Will made it!”

           Judging by everyone’s reactions, and how Claire holds her phone up while they enter, Jack thinks he made the right call.

(Day 30 - Bunker’s New Costume)

Cracktober 30 “bunkers newest mascot?”

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

           Dean hadn’t screamed. It’s a fact. Something he cannot do. Even if he wanted to, his voice prevented that. Deep baritone could never reach the high falsetto notes that rang throughout the Bunker’s halls. He bets Sam was making tea – in four different teapots. Each whistling in harmony at the exact moment he opened his hamper and saw unblinking, beady eyes staring up at him.

           And again, when those seemingly lifeless eyes blinked.

           “Dean? Dean!” Sam sped into the room, Cas and Jack at his heels, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

           He points, voice cracking as he pushes against the upper limits of his range. “That!” Three gazes follow his finger, landing on the possum making its nest between Dean’s dirty drawers and sweat-soaked undershirts. Each have their own, unique reaction.

           Sam, who held a gun at the ready, dropped it while leaping backwards. Hiding behind a stoic Cas. Angel squinting in confusion over their intruder. Meanwhile Jack, the most interesting member of this group, offered a guilt-ridden smile. Brows bent in an awfully suspicious angle.

           Dean immediately attacks. “Jack,” he growls, “what did you do?”

           Jack winces, hands flicking upwards in a defensive gesture. “Don’t get mad,” he starts, albeit too late, “but I… I didn’t intend for her to get out of my room!”

           “Your room?” Sam asks, glaring, “You brought that… that thing in here?”

           Castiel nods towards Sam, whispering. “It’s a possum, Sam.”

           “I know what it is!”

           “Oh…” He huffs, “I wasn’t sure.” Cas looks at the possum, frown more severe than earlier. “Why would you bring a possum into our home, Jack? They aren’t pets.”

           “They can be!” Jack argues, “I remember reading articles about how people can domesticate all sorts of things… that dogs and cats weren’t pets but after years of training. That some people keep raccoons as pets…” He strides close, snatching his quarry in firm hands. Despite how it wriggles and struggles, scratching at skin that heals in seconds. Biting at impervious fingers. “And what’s even better than a racoon? A possum.”

           His reasoning doesn’t receive the fanfare Jack expected. Dean whirls on Sam, pointer aimed at him. “This is your fault.”

           “Me!” Sam squawks, “How is it mine?”

           “You’re the one always picking the animal flicks during movie night. Of course Jack’d get the crazy idea from one of those.”

           “Excuse me, but in none of those movies did the main characters befriend a freakin’ possum!”

           “You have to admit though,” Cas adds, “you don’t help matters when, after we watch these movies, you start getting wistful about owning pets.”

           Sam shoved himself away from Cas, scowling. Bleeding from the knife Cas stabbed into his back, “You too, Cas?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Why am I even surprised, you always take Dean’s side.”

           “That’s not true,” Cas tells Sam, “Just the other day I slipped vegetables into Dean’s dinner like you asked –“

           “You what?” Dean yells, “Cas! How could you?”

           “It’s for your own good, Dean. Don’t you want to be healthy?”

           “Do you wanna sleep on the couch tonight?”

           “Can we stick with the subject?” Sam claps, stopping any further battles. They turn on Jack, younger boy cradling the possum in his arms. Sheepishly attempting an air of innocence, batting eyelashes in a faux Bambi act that would work if not for the snarling, spitting, hissing pile of fur he clutches. “Jack,” he says, “you can’t keep that animal in the Bunker.”

           “But why not?”

           “Because this Bunker is not the best environment for a possum,” Cas explains, “they belong in forests, with trees and leaves. Or neighborhoods… with trees and leaves. It wouldn’t be happy here.”

           “And we wouldn’t be happy with it here, either,” Dean says, “Possums are breeding grounds for diseases… I don’t care how many times you use your angel mojo on me, if that thing even touches me I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean.”

           “But… but…” Jack pouts, searching for a life preserver. He tosses one out blindly, shouting, “He’s like us?”

           Dean’s expression falters. “You think we’re like possums, Jack? After everything we’ve done for you?”

           “No, no, I…” Jack smiles down at the possum, stroking its head. “When I found her, she was curled on the side of the road. Looked like she was dead and I… I was about to bring her back to life. But then she popped up like it was nothing –“

           “One of their defense mechanisms,” Cas explains, “to keep them safe from predators.”

           “I know that now. Back then… her coming back to life, how could I not take her with me?” He holds it out, bottom half dangling. “We’ve all played possum one way or another in our lifetimes, maybe even more than once! She’d be the perfect pet – the perfect mascot!”

           It’s a sweet sentiment. Adorable logic that makes Dean’s next words even crueler. He grabs for Sam’s gun, flicking the safety off. “Either she’s out of here in the next few minutes,” Dean says, “or she won’t just be playing.”

           Jack disappears with a flutter, gone from Dean’s room. He hands his brother’s gun back, ignoring his and Cas’s stares. “Dumb rodent,” he mutters, circling his hamper, “don’t know whether I should wash these or burn them.”

           “Y’know, you could’ve gone about that a bit nicer,” Sam says.

           Dean rolls his eyes, “It worked didn’t it?”

           “Still you owe Jack an apology.”

           “He owes me one!”

           “Dean, stop being so obstinate,” Cas orders, arms crossed. Wearing a mask that usually means Dean is in boiling water, the flame underneath getting hotter and hotter as the dial spins. “Otherwise you’ll be the one sleeping on the couch.”

           “After seeing Jack’s idea of a mascot in here – I was already planning to, angel.”

(Day 29 - Rejected Castiel Ties)

Cracktober 28 “unconventional demon summoning”

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

           Cas chuckled, Dean’s ministrations tickling at his ribs. Pie filling warm on his bare chest, pieces of it sliding off and staining the sheets. “That’s why we’re doing it in a motel,” Dean explained, lips trailing across his cheeks, “we ain’t gonna be the ones to clean it up.”

           “Dean…” he sighed, pushing at him. Failing, “we can at least try to be careful.”

           “Honey, I’ve seen you when your in the midst of it,” Dean said, “we’re making a mess tonight.”

           And they had. After dinner, both men dug into dessert. First, Cas used ice from the outside dispenser to wake Dean up. Dragged the cubes across his skin until it rose. Then, he added some scoops of ice cream – two on Dean’s chest and another over his privates. Frozen treat already melting, Cas laving at the milky streams with passion. Smearing most of it over his mouth, making it sticky.

           Before it could become more so, Dean flipped them over. Straddled Cas, he reached into the bag and revealed an unopen can of pie filling. “Can’t have ice cream without pie, Cas,” he said, throwing the lid off wildly. Dean dipped his hand in it, ooze dripping from his fingers. Warm droplets falling on Cas’s chest.

           “Do it,” Cas breathed, “paint me.”

           “Any requests?”

           “My name,” he told Dean, “my true name. In Enochian, like I showed you.” Dean nodded, setting to work. Though it took much longer than Cas anticipated, probably because his partner distracted easily. Focus lost as he focused on particularly sensitive areas.

           He thinks Dean is nearly done. Circle rounding the last curve. “That’s it,” Cas moans, “read it for me. What’s it say?”

           “Castiel,” Dean says. He brushes excess off onto Cas’s chin, “it says –“

           “Cadriel, at your service. What do you – aah!”

           Dean bounces off of Cas, spilling the pie all over himself. Cas launches forward, grabbing for the blanket. Waiting, by the door, a red-eyed demon stared in mock horror. Panic fading as she took the whole scene in, expression replaced with interest. Recognizing them. “Wait, Dean and Castiel! You are together!” She pumped her fist, “And here we thought you’d never get out of your assess…”

           “What the hell!” Dean barked, plastic bag held on top of his privates. “Why are you here?”

           “You called me?”

           “No, I didn’t?”

           “Yeah, you did.” She points at Castiel, smirking, “Direct line, too. Took me away from a very boring meeting, honestly, so I’m not mad. Especially since you two gifted me with a great story… and with souls no longer the name of the game, currency’s changed.”

           Castiel tunes her rambling out, following her pointed finger. Gaze landing on his chest, at the Enochian Dean spelt there. He scowls, whacking him across the back of his head. Dean yelps, turning to him. “This is your fault.”

(Day 27 - Apple Pie Life. Literally.)

Promptober 29 “rejected Castiel ties”

Quick (ish) painting inspired by this work  over on AO3 by mattzerella_sticks

The adorable boys as prom king and queen ❤

Cracktober Day 26: Cosplay Contest

Cracktober 27 “Apple pie life. Literally”

Cracktober Day 27: Apple pie life. Literally