“What did you expect me to say?”

starsinursa:

Dean’s bored.

They’ve been parked for
an hour on the curb, waiting for the grocery store clerk who
may-or-may-not-be-a-werewolf to come home, and there hasn’t been a stitch of
movement. 

…well, unless they count the guy’s 90-year old neighbor who came out to
water her garden, hair rollers and all, and winked lasciviously at Sam sitting in the passenger seat. Even if
it did buoy Dean’s mood significantly – it was always a hoot seeing Sammy get
all disgruntled and embarrassed, wrinkling his nose like his sensibilities were offended – it didn’t really have anything to do with the case.

So, yeah. Bored.

He shifts in his seat, kicking out his feet and splaying his legs in the footwell, and glances into the rearview mirror. “Hey,
Cas. Knock knock.”

Castiel looks up, staring at him from the back seat. “…what?”

“Knock knock,” Dean
repeats. He drums the fingers of one hand on his thigh in anticipation.

“…I don’t understand.”

Next to him,
Sam snorts. Dean swats at him to get him to shut up.

“Don’t make me call sweet little Mildred
back here,” he warns Sam, who blanches. “It’s a knock-knock
joke, Cas. I’m pretending to knock on a door, you answer it, and I tell a
joke.”

“I see,” Castiel says. 

Dean
secretly thinks he’s full of shit, because his tone implies that he doesn’t ‘see’
at all.

“All right, fine, let’s
try it again. Knock knock.”

“Please come in, Dean,”
Castiel says politely.

Sam makes a strained noise and bites his lips, obviously fighting to keep the amusement off his face.
Castiel just looks confused, glancing from Dean to Sam and then back to Dean.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Nah, Cas.” Dean tries to sound reassuring, but it’s hard when he’s trying to keep the smirk off his own face. “…well, I mean, technically yeah, but you
didn’t know.”

“What did I do wrong?” He’s starting to look annoyed and smite-y. “What did you expect me to say?”

“You say, ‘who’s there?’, okay? I say ‘knock knock’, you say ‘who’s there?’”

“But I already know it’s
you.”

“…you’re missing the
point of the joke, Cas.”

“Fine,” Castiel huffs,
definitely looking annoyed now. “Tell me again.”

“Okay. Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Castiel asks,
with the most dramatic, exaggerated show of long-suffering patience that Dean’s ever seen. Dean thinks he needs an updated title: Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Drama Queen.

“Harp,” he says instead.

Castiel squints at him in the mirror.

“…I still don’t get it,”
he says finally.

Dean groans and drops
his head back, thumping it softly against the back of the seat. And then doing it again, for good measure. “No, no, you have to repeat what I say.
I say ‘harp’, you say ‘harp who?’”

“This is a lot of work.”

“Last time,” Dean insists,
because he’s committed at this point, damn it. He will finish this friggin’ joke if it
kills him. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there,” Castiel
mutters.

“Harp.”

“Harp who?”

“Harp…the Herald Angels
sing,” Dean finishes, triumphant.

Sam groans and puts his
face in his hands. Castiel just frowns at him. Definitely not the face of someone who’s cracking up with laughter on the inside.

“Dude, don’t you get it?
It’s a wordplay joke, Cas. Harp sounds like ‘hark –‘”

“He gets it, Dean,” Sam
interrupts. “He just doesn’t think you’re funny.”

Dean scowls. “Screw you guys, I’m hilarious.”

“You’re definitely not.”

“Shut it, Sammy! Cas, you get the joke, right? Tell Sam that I’m funny!”

“…your face is funny?”
Cas says haltingly, and Dean’s mouth falls open in shock – and betrayal, oh, the betrayal. 

Sam bursts out laughing, doubling over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. He almost hits his giant, stupid forehead
on the dashboard, which would have served him right, Dean thinks.

“Oh my god!” he gasps. “You just got
burned by Cas!”

For a guy who’s supposed to be Dean’s friend, Castiel looks
inordinately smug and pleased with himself, straightening up in the backseat. “I did it right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you did it
right,” Dean grumbles. Against his better judgment – God forbid he actually encourage this kind of behavior – his lips twitch in a smile. “Congratulations,
you’re a regular comedian.”

Sam wipes his eyes and twists around in the seat to grin at Castiel. “Good job, Cas. You’re definitely getting funnier. You have my blessing to make fun of Dean
anytime.”

“Hey!”

Castiel looks almost
touched. “Thank you, Sam.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean glances out the windows. The house they’re watching is still stubbornly, infuriatingly, quiet. He sighs.

“Fine, how about this one. An angel and a demon walk into a bar -”

casthewise:

Contrary to popular belief, Dean is not worried about Cas. Does he start subtly tailing him around the Bunker? No. It could maybe be interpreted that that’s what he’s doing, but he’s actually just got a bunch of shit to do that just so happens to be in whatever room Cas is occupying at the moment. It’s a coincidence, thank you very much. Jesus, Sam, it’s not like Dean’s a stalker.

Except that he’s a little bit of a stalker.

Fine, okay—yes, Dean does start kind of… mother-henning a little bit. Does he freak out when the leaves turn and Cas goes out without a hat? Yeah. But that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with the guy once he inevitably gets sick! It isn’t worrying, per se. Dean’s actions are totally motivated by self-interest. 

Seriously, he could care less that Castiel, freshly-Fallen-Angel-of-the-Lord, spends like four hours a day outside doing god knows what. That’s not a thing Dean thinks about at all. And like, the fact that Cas always comes back all smiley? Or leaves with a lunchbox? He doesn’t give a single fuck. Not one. 

Which is why, of course, Dean is now following roughly twenty paces behind Castiel, hunched over and, by everyone else’s definition of the word: sneaking. Of course, according to the Exhaustive and Wholly Accurate Dictionary of Dean Winchester, he is taking a nice, long walk. Alone. To get some air. And he’s hunched over because it’s cold—oh hey, wow, is that Cas? Huh, what are the odds!

It should be noted that Dean is fooling exactly no one.

Except, it seems, Castiel, who has apparently just been thrilled to have the eldest (more attractive) Winchester stuck to his ass for two weeks. Which is… kind of awesome, from Dean’s perspective. For no particular reason. 

Dean follows Cas into the woods behind the Bunker in what he considers to be stealth mode, and it turns out he doesn’t have to trail him for very long. Castiel soon discovers he has a human visitor when a fucking mangy wolf fucking jumps him from out of nowhere. 

And the wild thing? While Dean is yelling for Cas to save himself and trying to fight the damn beast off, Castiel just whistles twice, speaking softly in what sounds like Enochian before the thing goddamn whimpers like it’s disappointed and lopes back to… to who… its master?? Did Cas tame a wolf???

The mutt licks the side of Castiel’s face, and Dean figures that’s an unequivocal yes. 

What the fuck.

The fucker’s even laughing; one of those whole, fully-body things as the wolf knocks him off his feet and tackles him like they’re cubs play-fighting. Cas wears that really pretty, gummy smile Dean loves, and scratches behind her ears. “Good girl, Moz.”

“Moh-zod,” Dean mumbles to himself, frowning. What the hell kinda name is that?

Pushing her off of him, Castiel sits up and wraps his arms around her, playfully growling into the fur of her neck. Dean’s nose wrinkles in disgust because jesus, man, you got no idea where she’s been. 

“Dean,” Cas says, like they walked out here hand-in-hand instead of in a shroud of deception. “Meet Moz—Joy. That’s her name in English. She was abandoned by her pack and found me about a month ago.”

“Found you…?”

Castiel nods. “Mm. I was on a walk when she came right up to me.” He kisses her muzzle. “She was lost, too. Weren’t you?” he asks her with a smile. Looking at Dean, he says, “she must have sensed me.”

“Sensed you. Right.”

Except the more Dean thinks about it, the more he becomes convinced of the fact that—yeah, of course a wolf found Cas in the middle of fucking Kansas when they haven’t been here for generations. Of course. And of course, the dumbass decided to make friends with it. And of course… of course he look so happy, sitting on the muddy ground, play-fighting with a frickin’ predator. A-And he reaches into his freaking lunchbox to get a piece of raw porc and feed it to what should be a dangerous, wild animal. 

But she’s not, here. She’s… sweet. Misunderstood. Happy. Above all, Dean can tell she’s happy. That she makes him happy. And honestly, that’s kind of all Dean’s ever wanted; he just never thought it’d come in the form of a fully grown wolf.

“Jesus, Cas, you’re amazing,” Dean breathes, totally overcome. His eyes widen and his face heats. Cas pauses. “I—uh. I mean, an amazing friend. Best friend. You’re an amazing, um, best… ah… Cas…?” The last is whispered just before Castiel kisses him.

In the forest behind the Bunker, in the company of a freaking wolf, Cas just gets up, walks over, and lays one on him. “Thank you,” he murmurs upon pulling away. His hand comes up to entwine with Dean’s. He steps forward. “Come meet her. Moz, come say hi to Dean.”

Without complaint, Dean follows. 

tenitchyfingers:

if an idiot on tumblr represents the whole ace community, then Caitlyn Jenner represents the whole trans community, and Milo Yiannopoulos represents the whole gay community. 

If you think that’s unfair and wrong, then hold us to the same standards you do yourselves, you ugly trash hypocrites.