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03 December 2012 @ 09:06 pm
Last Night On Earth (SPN, girl!Dean/Castiel, PG-13)  
Title: Last Night On Earth
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Always-a-girl!Dean (Dee), Castiel, Dee/Castiel
Rating: A light PG-13
Disclaimer: The CW and Kripke own everything you recognize from Supernatural.
Word count: 910.
Warning: Unbetaed.
Note: Written for insmallpackages, the prompt Fic: Supernatural; always-a-girl!Dean/Cas, the first time they...(author's choice).
Summary: A night of firsts. Dee is kind of into Cas, Cas is kind of into Dee, and he's probably going to be dead tomorrow. About as fluffy and shippy as an AU of 5x03 "Free to Be You And Me" can get.

Dad's journal has nothing to say about angels, especially not archangels, Dee knows that, but she's reading through it anyway in case there's some little hint she missed in the million times she's read it before. Despite everything, she wishes Sam were here, because... because, that's freaking why. Because he's the real deal, because he's her little brother and she needs his huge nerdy brain to crunch facts and tell her her plans are stupid.

Instead, she's got Castiel. Cas is great and all, but he's not good at, well, anything hunter-y that doesn't involve killing angels or demons or whatever creepy-crawly they've got to deal with today. And he's not even here right now, so she's alone.

Dee hates being alone.

The thought crosses her mind, she gives up and sets the journal down on the nearby table, and that second, Cas appears. He looks blankly at her, and holds up some sort of old-timey ceramic jar. "Where have you been?" she asks, just to break the silence.

"Jerusalem," he says, matter-of-factly.

Okay then. "How was it?"

"Arid." He sets the jar down, and she eyes it.

"What's that?" she asks finally. Man, having conversation with non-humans is a lot of work.

"It's oil." Castiel touches the top of the jar. "It's very special; very rare." He takes a seat.

Dee exhales, her hands on her hips, hooking her belt loops. "Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?"

"No," Cas answers blandly.

She tries not to make a face too blatantly. Instead, she shifts, paces, thinks, acts like it's Sammy sitting across the room. "So this ritual of yours, when's it got to go down?"


Dee stops, turns, and frowns. "Tell me something," she says. "You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kind of like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?"

"No," Cas says bluntly. "It's harder."

Great. "Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

"You do."

Oh, boy, that makes her feel so much better. She doesn't even want to think about what that actually means, because -- fucking because, that's why, but someone's gotta say it. "So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow," she says slowly.

"Yes." He doesn't seem too bothered, but that's probably the angel stoicism. Right? There's no way he's okay with this. Dee has a sharp pang of angst for a second when she realizes that Cas wouldn't be in danger if she hadn't badgered and pushed and bitched her way into his head, but then she remembers the world is at stake.

She tosses her head and stands straight, like a soldier, like Dad always said to. "So, what do you want to do?" she asks offhand. "Last night on Earth. You name it."

Cas looks at her, baffled. "I... just thought I'd sit here quietly."

"No way," Dee declares, and sits up on the table, careful not to nudge the jar or anything. "There's gotta be something."

Cas has that blank look on his face that might as well be a shrug. "No," he says simply.

She presses a hand to her face, a little exasperated. "All right then," she says, and glances at him.

Is she really going to do this?

She's going to do this.

"Want to fuck?" she offers.

If she hadn't just put herself out there like that, the look on his face -- like she just slapped him with a fish or something Monty Python -- would be hilarious. Actually, it is hilarious. She can deal with the fact that he doesn't want to fuck her later. "I'll take that as a no," she says dryly.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Dee," he starts.

"I get it. Angels screw other angels or something, right?" Like she has any clue why he'd say no. "Or, you know. I'm not your type."

"No," Cas says suddenly. "Not at all."

There's a really heavy pause and then she just starts laughing. "Oh, man, seriously?" He isn't exactly looking at her, but he's sort of looking at her, and yeah, she knows that look. She's known that look since she was fifteen. "You're into me."

He takes a deep breath but says nothing, and Dee sees only one thing she can do.

She hops off the table, approaches him, and straddles his lap. Then she runs her fingers through his sexy fucking hair as he goes stiff underneath her -- not like that, at least not yet -- and breathes, "Oh, Cas," before she kisses him, hard.

It's obvious he doesn't know what to do, but she's way too into it to let it bother her. She rolls her body against him, her hips against his, and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat. Cas baby, you're a human now, all right.

She tries not to think about how badly she wants this, how badly she's wanted this ever since he shoved her up against that wall in the Green Room (at least, Jesus Christ), and gives in as he tries touching her, his hands on her hips and then her ass and then --

Then the chair nearly tips over.

"We better move," she says, sweetly.

Cas just nods, staring at her, astounded, and as she crawls out of his lap she lets her hand linger, seizing his hand to pull him along to the couch.

Touched by an angel. It's about damn time.