[personal profile] hopelessfangirl
Round 2 of drabbles from the OTP Meme! Apparently I'm incapable of writing in the 100-200 word range. And I wrote 600+ words Dean/Castiel. WHO AM I? ;) Hope you enjoy! ♥




Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing, prompt: Willow/Oz, lazy afternoon
For: [livejournal.com profile] ozmissage
Word Count: 145

It was quiet at Oz’s place this Saturday afternoon. All of the other Dingoes members had vacated the premises and Willow’s plans for the day consisted of absolutely nothing.

She sat with a book of transmogrification spells resting on the arm of the couch and Oz’s head in her lap. He lay on his back with his acoustic guitar resting on his stomach, idly strumming the tune of Pink Floyd’s Hey You. Every few minutes Willow would turn a page or Oz would start new song, but neither had moved a muscle to do much else, aside from the odd brush of his hair or kiss of her hand. (The latter produced giggles.)

After all, there was a very good chance that some vampire-staking or demon-researching would be included in their evening activities. They had to savour the glorious moments when they could just sit.






Fandom: House, MD
Pairing, prompt: House/Wilson, Sherlock Holmes
For: [livejournal.com profile] wandersfound
Word Count: 268

Wilson came home to find House sitting on the couch in a Deerstalker hat.

“Are you smoking a pipe?” Wilson threw his keys on the hallway table and narrowly missed hitting the empty orange candy bowl. “Oh shit,” he said, suddenly remembering the date. “I forgot to get candy!”

“Relax,” House said, pointing his head in the direction of the bathroom. “You’ve got a package of unopened toothbrushes in there.” He took another puff of his pipe. “Besides, people will avoid taking their kids to trick-or-treat at the middle-aged homos’ place, anyway.”

Wilson scrunched up his face – his natural reaction to most of the things House says – and headed towards his bedroom to put away his briefcase. When he opened the door, he found a tweed suit lain out on his bed, along with a matching vest and a bowler hat. He smirked.

Ten minutes later, Wilson plopped himself down on the couch next to House wearing the outfit. House sized him up for a moment before fishing something out of the pocket of his plaid trench coat. He reached over and pressed an adhesive moustache onto Wilson’s upper lip. Seeing no further flaws in the costume, he turned his attention back to the General Hospital repeat he was watching.

The doorbell rang. Wilson stood up and grabbed a handful of candy that was luckily still left in the bowl on the coffee table. He was half-way to the door when he suddenly remembered something and rushed back to the couch. Without a word, he grabbed House’s cane and used it as he fake-hobbled back to the door.






Fandom: Strangers With Candy
Pairing, prompt: Noblet/Jellineck, picnic
For: [livejournal.com profile] boxseat
Word Count: 278

“Surprise!” Chuck removed his hands from Geoffrey’s eyes.

“I can’t see anything,” Geoffrey said, squinting into the pitch black room.

“Whoops!” The pull of a light bulb chain was heard and suddenly the boiler room of Flatpoint High came into view. On the floor was a checked table cloth with a picnic basket lying neatly in the middle.

“Listen, Geoffrey,” Chuck began. “I feel bad that picnic of ours was interrupted by you hitting Jerri Blank’s car with your face. I wanted to make it up to you, down here in the bowels of the school, at night, where absolutely no one will find us.” He laid a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder.

“Oh, Chuck, you shouldn’t have!” Geoffrey gleefully sat down on the table cloth, his big toes tapping together in excitement.

“I maaaaade...” Chuck started pulling items out of the picnic basket. “Portobello mushroom sandwiches...”

“Yay!”

“...Brie with crackers...”

Geoffrey clapped.

“...and macaroons!”

“Oh, boy!”

“Where do you want to start?”

“How about the sandwiches?”

“Sounds good to me!”

Chuck and Geoffrey ate contentedly for ten minutes before a clanging started at the door. Chuck’s head shot up. “Someone’s coming!” He got to his feet.

“CHUCK, DON’T, THE MACAROONS – ! ”

But it was too late. Chuck had already bolted past the school janitor who had found them, leaving one footprint in the Brie and another in Geoffrey’s macaroon.

“GOD DAMMIT!” Geoffrey yelled, kicking the basket over and pushing past the janitor who still stood in the doorway.

Out of nowhere, Jerri Blank crashed her car through the side of the building, running over the remnants of the picnic.

Phew,” she said. “That... was a close one.”






Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, prompt: Dean/Castiel, Castiel learns about romance from romcoms; Dean does not appreciate
For: [livejournal.com profile] wandersfound
Word Count 640

It started when Castiel tripped up in his trench coat, flying head-first towards Dean, who quickly turned around and caught him securely by the arms. Castiel’s face was level with Dean’s chest, and he looked up at Dean with what could only be described as googly eyes.

“Watch your step, little lady,” Dean quipped before setting Castiel back on his feet and turning to catch up with Sam.


Things got weird from then on.


While investigating a poltergeist at a mall in Seattle, Cas spotted something that made him turn to Dean urgently and whisper, “Dean, you must follow me.”

Castiel started walking briskly towards a large fountain near the escalators, Dean trotting closely behind. Quickening his stride, Castiel ran around the fountain once, then twice, then three, four, five times before Dean yelled, “Cas, what the hell are we doing? What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Castiel was practically skipping now and turned around to ask, “This is fun, yes? Should we hold hands now?”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks while Cas continued to skip ahead and around the fountain, out of his sight. He scratched his head and tried to walk away nonchalantly, as if dozens of shoppers weren’t staring at them.


Days later, Dean got a call on his cell phone from Castiel, telling him to meet him at the closest international airport.

“Uh, I’m not a fan of flying, Cas,” he said wearily.

“That is irrelevant,” replied Castiel. “Please hurry.”

Thirty minutes later, Sam parked the car as Dean rushed into the Departures entrance. He pulled out his cell to call Cas when the angel suddenly appeared, delicately pushing people out of his way as he made a beeline towards Dean.

“You can’t go!” Castiel cried as he got within earshot of him.

“Go where? I just got here, what-–”

“You can’t go because I love you.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a moment. “Okay, what the fuck is going on here?” He started to smile. “Am I on Celestial Candid Camera or some kind of shit?”

Castiel shook his head, confused. “I do not understand why you are making reference to feces. I was under the impression that bodily waste was not very romantic.”

People were staring again. Dean pulled Castiel aside and lowered his voice.

“Cas, are you feeling okay?”

“No, Dean,” he replied. “I am sick. Sick of how cute you look when you eat cheeseburgers. Sick of how I do not understand most of your jokes, because I am sure they are very funny. Sick of how infrequently you laugh and how much I wish I could change that. Sick of...” Castiel trailed off and peeked at something inside the breast pocket of his trench coat. “Oh, yes, sick of-–”

“Wait a minute,” Dean interrupted. “What did you just look at? What is this?”

Dean reached into the pocket despite Castiel’s protests and hauled out a piece of paper with jot notes on it. Organized alphabetically by title, the jot notes outlined the plots of a dozen chick flicks, with special notes specific to Dean’s personality traits. Dean took a few moments to regain his composure.

“Cas, are you trying to... woo me?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to do,” Castiel replied. “Did I do something wrong?”

Dean sighed and put an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, leading him out of the airport while explaining the difference between romantic comedies and real life. Sam was waiting at the entrance and Castiel gave him a disappointed shake of his head as they walked past.


“Don’t worry,” Sam said later that night when Dean was out getting food. “I found 37 chick flicks queued in his secret NetFlix account. Everything you did worked.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked with a furrowed brow.

“Definitely.”

The angel smiled.






Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, prompt: Sam/Castiel, sunrise
For: [livejournal.com profile] wandersfound
Word Count: 432

At four-thirty in the morning, Sam lay on the hood of the Impala parked outside the motel room in which Dean was sound asleep. In the time since he had come outside, the black sky had softened to a royal blue and the faint silhouettes of nearby buildings and trees were now visible. It was still early enough that the birds hadn’t started chirping yet. This thought, among a million others, crossed Sam’s mind as he lay in silence. Being awake at ungodly hours had unfortunately become a routine for him.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Sam jolted in surprise and his left leg slipped off the side of the hood. He caught himself before falling over, sighing when he recognized the monotonic voice that had startled him. “Castiel, you need to stop doing that, please.”

“I am sorry,” the angel replied. “I was going to sit in your car and wait until you and your brother woke since my cell phone has run out of minutes. I didn’t expect to find you out here.”

“Oh,” said Sam, feeling guilty for the tone he had used. “Sorry.”

“Your apology is unnecessary,” said Castiel. “Why are you awake at this hour, Sam?”

“I, uh...” Sam trailed off. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to get into his personal problems with an angel right now.

Castiel studied Sam’s face closely. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I will be glad to listen if you wish to talk about it.”

Sam let out a soft chuckle. “Thanks.” He paused for several moments. “It’s just – ” he began, but quickly stopped. He didn’t even know where to begin. There was the apocalypse, being the one responsible for it, being the one who can make it so much worse if he ever lets Lucifer in... and yet, what else was there to say about it that hasn’t already been said?
“It’s just a lot, you know?” Sam finally voiced. He stared down at the pavement, not making eye contact with Cas.

The angel kept his gaze on Sam for a while before turning it upwards. He felt it an appropriate time to relay the two words that have gotten him through the last few months. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Have faith,” he simply said.

Sam raised his head to look over at Cas, who looked back at him with the faintest of smiles. Sam returned the gesture and nodded, trying to take the message to heart.

The two sat in silence watching the sky turn pink.





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