Title: Sleeping Draught
Prompt: Sleeping Draught
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Warnings: soft slash
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and its characters. All belongs to Eric Kripke.
Notes: not beta’d. I hope there isn’t OOCness. The prompt was given by Crimsondiablesse @ Tumblr because POTTERMORE. And just because of that prompt, the “prince who wakes up the princess” scene was practically served to me on a silver plate. On a side note, I was planning to make a short flash (200-500 words), instead the fic came out with nearly 1000 words. Thanks brain. I hope you’ll like it. You can find this also on FF.NET: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8058477/1/Sleeping_Draught
Dean sighed for the umpteenth time, glancing at Castiel, who was sleeping on the couch at Bobby’s house – such a unique sight.
- Well, doesn’t Cas look like an angel?
The tone of Dean’s voice was sarcastic. Sam answered him, letting out a light sigh of resignation.
- Problem is, angels don’t sleep. They don’t even eat…
- They drink. At least, Cas drinks.That’s why the fucking witch gave him…
The hunter glanced at a bottle that was laying on the floor by the couch. He got up from the chair he was sitting on and took the bottle into his hands.
- Beer, Sam, beer! A potion in a bottle of beer! How do we deal with this?
Dean gazed at a sleeping Castiel, his expression was a very perplexed one. In the meanwhile Sam looked for information; as he found out about that potion, he frowned his brows and tilted his head.
- What? How do we deal with this?
Sam was not sure about answering that question, both because he knew Dean would just freak out, and because Hell would freeze before he got to persuade his brother that there was only one way. He closed his pc, then gazed at his brother.
- Well… The potion is called ‘Sleeping Draught’.
- That bitch. But why Cas? He’s an angel, he should be immune to such things!
- The key word is ‘should’. But apparently he’s not. Look at him, he’s sleeping.
- So what?
- You should know that Castiel is so naïve it hurts, you should’ve foreseen he’d be all like ‘oh my, thank you, kind bartender woman, for offering me this copious amount of alcohol’.
Dean mentally slapped himself. Of course he knew that side of Castiel. Sam, at that point, read how to deal with that Sleeping Draught potion.
- ‘The one who falls under the effects of the Sleeping Draught potion shall be awakened only by a kiss of True Love’. And should I specify who is Castiel’s ‘True Love’?
- Wow. You even read that bullshit with all the capital letters. And hell no. I fucking know.
Dean was being sarcastic and Sam couldn’t help but frown at him and say:
- Since you know this, why don’t you just get over it?
Dean muttered something in a low voice, then he threw the bottle on the floor. He would be definitely dead before clearing up that kind of things. That was not quite his area – the one involving feelings and romance. At that point he exclaimed:
- Fine. Let’s go find that witch and…
He stopped when he saw the eloquent look on his brother’s face. He paused for a moment, then looked at Castiel, who had moved not even a finger since some hours. Dean let out furious groan and glanced at Sam.
- Come on, Sammy. It’s not funny, I can’t even make a joke about this. And I’m not a chick, I’m not going to.
- No. We’ll wait until the end of the effects of this potion, in the meanwhile we’ll find that witch.
- … The end of the effects of this potion is not specified.
Dean cursed under his breath, then sat again on the chair, looking at the angel with a perplexed expression on his face. He looked like he was pondering pros and cons. After a long moment of religious silence, Dean said to his brother:
- Go out, Sammy, I need to think.
- Are you sure…
- Get out. Please.
As he heard the door closing behind him, Dean sighed in frustration and thought:
“Fuck, Cas, you’re too naïve for your own good! Now are you really expecting me to go and actually kiss you? Just wake up, stupid feather brain, use your mojo!”
He rubbed his temples and sighed again, then barked in frustration while looking at the ceiling:
- Fine, you damn witch! I hope you’ll be happy and satisfied, because I’m not doing it twice!
He went by Castiel, then he leaned towards him and closed his eyes. Dean hesitated a bit - that moment when he felt like regretting all his decisions and all the what ifs and the whatnots came to his mind all at once. He suffocated a curse and swore he would find that witch and tear her apart with his bare hands; at that point he pressed lightly his lips against Castiel’s for a short instant.
In that moment Castiel opened slowly his eyes. He got up in surprise – for how much an angel would look surprised - still dizzy from the effect of the potion. As he saw the awkward glare on Dean’s face – a quite reddish and embarrassed face – he asked:
- What is it, Dean?
Dean deepened his glare:
- Next time you want to drink a potion, be careful, dammit! I’m not going to help you again, if you drink a potion!
- But that bartender woman was kind to offer me some alcohol.
- Cas, don’t you even know the word ‘witch’?
The angel just tilted his head, not knowing how to react. He decided to ask, instead:
- Why were you… Um… Leaning on me?
Dean decided that he had had enough of this and that explaining him how the Sleeping Draught potion worked was too much of a bother, so he just left the room. He needed fresh air.