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120_minutenTeam: Slytherin
Challenge: JOKER - Neben jemand (Unerwartetem) aufwachen (für mich) [Sommer-Challenge 2013 - Tropes]
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Inhalt: Dean wakes up hungover right beside Castiel and can’t remember what happened the night before. But that’s seriously just the least of his problems.
Tags: AU, Fluff
Sprache: Englisch
It's never nice to wake up with the worst hangover ever.
And it's certainly isn't great when you realize – after some groaning and cursing and a lot more groaning – that you spent the night in an unfamiliar bed.
Dean closes his eyes again, fighting the growing nausea and praying that he's just dreaming or something. Picturing himself lying in a bed with flowery sheets in a room filled with the ugliest furniture in existence – and he's usually not that picky so this is saying something – and sporting some stupid hangover that will probably kill his brain by the end of the day.
But when he opens his eyes again all his hopes are crushed mercilessly.
Dammit!
“Good morning, Dean.”
The unexpected voice near his ear makes Dean yelp like a startled toddler and for about a second he's convinced that his heart would explode into a hideous and bloody mess no one would ever be able to clean.
“Um ...” Dean bites his bottom lip before he turn his head toward the guy right next to him. “Hey, Cas.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How the hell did that happen?
In his early years he never missed an opportunity to get majorly drunk with his friends, celebrating and flirting like a man on a mission. But since he hit thirty he cut down because it's all fun and games in your youth, but kinda pathetic when all of your old buddies talk about responsibilities and steady relationships and you're turning into a relict from a time long ago.
So Dean got his shit together and tried to be the grown-up everyone thought he was.
But yesterday, at Benny's birthday party, he forgot himself again.
He had been calm and collected for the first two hours until Castiel approached him with a shy smile and the bluest eyes in existence and that tousled sex-hair and those form fitting jeans and that gravelly voice that made Dean shiver in an instant ...
Dean was just fucking lost.
It's always been easy for him to flirt with women. He knows what to say, how to smile. But with guys he tends to get flustered and awkward like a teenager with a crush.
So he started to down one shot after another, hoping to find some confidence buried deep inside himself. And he remembers vaguely how at one point they started some kind of flowing conversation, talking for minutes or even hours and not giving a damn about all the other people. Dean loved every second of it and he couldn't take his eyes off of Castiel the whole night.
And then … well.
Dean really hates himself right now. Castiel is the first in a very long time who made his insides tingle without any effort and of course Dean managed to screw this up big time. Drunken hookups aren't exactly fairy tale material.
He tries to prop himself up and regrets it immediately. His head starts to spin and for a moment he fears that he'd puke right on the spot, destroying the last bit of chance he might still have with Castiel.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asks concerned. He rises from the bed and he seems a little wobbly as well, but he's able to come to Dean's side without any accident.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean assures quickly. “Just … y'know, hungover.”
Castiel nods understandingly. “I know what you mean.”
“So ...” Dean starts to fidget, feeling very uncomfortable considering Castiel's proximity and the obvious fact that they spent the goddamned night together in the same bed!
“You're worried something sexual happened last night, right?” Castiel says matter-of-factly. “I can promise you that's not the case.”
Dean blinks a few times before finally a strong wave of relief washes over him.
Maybe he didn't fuck everything up for a change.
“That's … that's good,” he mutters, sighing deeply. “I mean, not that it'd be bad -- with you … y'know. It wouldn't have been a hardship or whatever since you're … well, you're easy on the eyes and – well, it's just all the alcohol and stuff ...”
Great, now he's rambling again.
Suddenly he recalls quite vividly why he decided to drink in the first place.
But fortunately Castiel seems rather amused. “I can assure you, nothing inappropriate happened. Although my memory is a little bit fuzzy as well, I wouldn't have forgotten … well, that.” He smiles coyly, an adorable light blush appearing on his cheeks. “I just wanted to accompany you home since you were quite intoxicated and then you asked for a bedtime story ...” The flush intensifies and Dean feels something warm pressing within his chest at this sight. “And somehow I fell asleep next to you.”
Dean can't help feeling giddy and grinning like a lunatic.
“What bedtime story did you tell me?” he asks.
Castiel ducks his head. “I'm not very creative,” he admits. “And I actually can't really remember. Something about angels and humans, I think. And pie.”
“Pie?”
Castiel chuckles. “You insisted on pie.”
Well, that honestly sounds like him – Dean Winchester, devoted pie-enthusiast.
Carefully he climbs out of bed, thanking God when he manages to stay somewhat dignified. At least he doesn't lose his balance or throws up on Castiel's feet so that's seriously a win.
“Um … do you maybe have some aspirin lying around here?” he asks. “My head is fucking killing me!”
Castiel narrows his eyes, his expression puzzled. “Why are you asking me that?”
Dean hesitates. It's an easy enough question, isn't it? “Uh … I just thought … well, I don't carry some aspirin around and since this is your place --”
“It is not,” Castiel interrupts him immediately.
Dean blinks.
What?
“What?”
“This isn't my house,” Castiel explains, still looking utterly confused. “I assumed it was yours.”
Due to his very tired brain Dean needs a few moments to wrap his mind around Castiel's words. “So … it's not yours?”
Castiel shakes his head vigorously. “You were the one who led me here last night. And you opened the door.”
Dean stares at Castiel motionlessly before it finally clicks. With wide eyes he takes a look around – the pictures on the wall of a family he's never seen before; some toys on the floor – and rushes toward the window. He recognizes the street – it's actually not that far from Benny's – and his heart starts to race.
Fuck!
Fuck!
“We … I ...” Dean begins to stutter, not sure what to say. Sorry for apparently turning you into a burglar without your knowledge?
“So we are in some stranger's home?” Castiel asks and his voice sounds surprisingly calm considering the circumstances. “But you opened the door, I saw it! Admittedly you were fumbling a little bit so it took some time, but ...”
Dean avoids his questioning gaze. “Um … I can pick locks?”
Castiel lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“It's just a party trick, okay?” Dean defends himself. “I've never … I never meant to break in somewhere!”
And he actually thought that he wouldn't be able to use that special skill while drunk off his ass, but obviously wonders never cease.
“So … we broke in?” Slowly the realization catches up with Castiel as well. “But … I used the bathroom. And I ate a sandwich about half an hour ago because I was hungry and you were still asleep.”
Part of Dean wants to ask, “And you came back into bed with me afterwards?” with a very bright smile, but he refrains from doing that since there are more important things to worry about right now. Like not ending up in jail, for example.
Dammit.
They have to leave. Now!
Challenge: JOKER - Neben jemand (Unerwartetem) aufwachen (für mich) [Sommer-Challenge 2013 - Tropes]
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Inhalt: Dean wakes up hungover right beside Castiel and can’t remember what happened the night before. But that’s seriously just the least of his problems.
Tags: AU, Fluff
Sprache: Englisch
It's never nice to wake up with the worst hangover ever.
And it's certainly isn't great when you realize – after some groaning and cursing and a lot more groaning – that you spent the night in an unfamiliar bed.
Dean closes his eyes again, fighting the growing nausea and praying that he's just dreaming or something. Picturing himself lying in a bed with flowery sheets in a room filled with the ugliest furniture in existence – and he's usually not that picky so this is saying something – and sporting some stupid hangover that will probably kill his brain by the end of the day.
But when he opens his eyes again all his hopes are crushed mercilessly.
Dammit!
“Good morning, Dean.”
The unexpected voice near his ear makes Dean yelp like a startled toddler and for about a second he's convinced that his heart would explode into a hideous and bloody mess no one would ever be able to clean.
“Um ...” Dean bites his bottom lip before he turn his head toward the guy right next to him. “Hey, Cas.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How the hell did that happen?
In his early years he never missed an opportunity to get majorly drunk with his friends, celebrating and flirting like a man on a mission. But since he hit thirty he cut down because it's all fun and games in your youth, but kinda pathetic when all of your old buddies talk about responsibilities and steady relationships and you're turning into a relict from a time long ago.
So Dean got his shit together and tried to be the grown-up everyone thought he was.
But yesterday, at Benny's birthday party, he forgot himself again.
He had been calm and collected for the first two hours until Castiel approached him with a shy smile and the bluest eyes in existence and that tousled sex-hair and those form fitting jeans and that gravelly voice that made Dean shiver in an instant ...
Dean was just fucking lost.
It's always been easy for him to flirt with women. He knows what to say, how to smile. But with guys he tends to get flustered and awkward like a teenager with a crush.
So he started to down one shot after another, hoping to find some confidence buried deep inside himself. And he remembers vaguely how at one point they started some kind of flowing conversation, talking for minutes or even hours and not giving a damn about all the other people. Dean loved every second of it and he couldn't take his eyes off of Castiel the whole night.
And then … well.
Dean really hates himself right now. Castiel is the first in a very long time who made his insides tingle without any effort and of course Dean managed to screw this up big time. Drunken hookups aren't exactly fairy tale material.
He tries to prop himself up and regrets it immediately. His head starts to spin and for a moment he fears that he'd puke right on the spot, destroying the last bit of chance he might still have with Castiel.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asks concerned. He rises from the bed and he seems a little wobbly as well, but he's able to come to Dean's side without any accident.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean assures quickly. “Just … y'know, hungover.”
Castiel nods understandingly. “I know what you mean.”
“So ...” Dean starts to fidget, feeling very uncomfortable considering Castiel's proximity and the obvious fact that they spent the goddamned night together in the same bed!
“You're worried something sexual happened last night, right?” Castiel says matter-of-factly. “I can promise you that's not the case.”
Dean blinks a few times before finally a strong wave of relief washes over him.
Maybe he didn't fuck everything up for a change.
“That's … that's good,” he mutters, sighing deeply. “I mean, not that it'd be bad -- with you … y'know. It wouldn't have been a hardship or whatever since you're … well, you're easy on the eyes and – well, it's just all the alcohol and stuff ...”
Great, now he's rambling again.
Suddenly he recalls quite vividly why he decided to drink in the first place.
But fortunately Castiel seems rather amused. “I can assure you, nothing inappropriate happened. Although my memory is a little bit fuzzy as well, I wouldn't have forgotten … well, that.” He smiles coyly, an adorable light blush appearing on his cheeks. “I just wanted to accompany you home since you were quite intoxicated and then you asked for a bedtime story ...” The flush intensifies and Dean feels something warm pressing within his chest at this sight. “And somehow I fell asleep next to you.”
Dean can't help feeling giddy and grinning like a lunatic.
“What bedtime story did you tell me?” he asks.
Castiel ducks his head. “I'm not very creative,” he admits. “And I actually can't really remember. Something about angels and humans, I think. And pie.”
“Pie?”
Castiel chuckles. “You insisted on pie.”
Well, that honestly sounds like him – Dean Winchester, devoted pie-enthusiast.
Carefully he climbs out of bed, thanking God when he manages to stay somewhat dignified. At least he doesn't lose his balance or throws up on Castiel's feet so that's seriously a win.
“Um … do you maybe have some aspirin lying around here?” he asks. “My head is fucking killing me!”
Castiel narrows his eyes, his expression puzzled. “Why are you asking me that?”
Dean hesitates. It's an easy enough question, isn't it? “Uh … I just thought … well, I don't carry some aspirin around and since this is your place --”
“It is not,” Castiel interrupts him immediately.
Dean blinks.
What?
“What?”
“This isn't my house,” Castiel explains, still looking utterly confused. “I assumed it was yours.”
Due to his very tired brain Dean needs a few moments to wrap his mind around Castiel's words. “So … it's not yours?”
Castiel shakes his head vigorously. “You were the one who led me here last night. And you opened the door.”
Dean stares at Castiel motionlessly before it finally clicks. With wide eyes he takes a look around – the pictures on the wall of a family he's never seen before; some toys on the floor – and rushes toward the window. He recognizes the street – it's actually not that far from Benny's – and his heart starts to race.
Fuck!
Fuck!
“We … I ...” Dean begins to stutter, not sure what to say. Sorry for apparently turning you into a burglar without your knowledge?
“So we are in some stranger's home?” Castiel asks and his voice sounds surprisingly calm considering the circumstances. “But you opened the door, I saw it! Admittedly you were fumbling a little bit so it took some time, but ...”
Dean avoids his questioning gaze. “Um … I can pick locks?”
Castiel lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“It's just a party trick, okay?” Dean defends himself. “I've never … I never meant to break in somewhere!”
And he actually thought that he wouldn't be able to use that special skill while drunk off his ass, but obviously wonders never cease.
“So … we broke in?” Slowly the realization catches up with Castiel as well. “But … I used the bathroom. And I ate a sandwich about half an hour ago because I was hungry and you were still asleep.”
Part of Dean wants to ask, “And you came back into bed with me afterwards?” with a very bright smile, but he refrains from doing that since there are more important things to worry about right now. Like not ending up in jail, for example.
Dammit.
They have to leave. Now!
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