Domesticis Angeli (Supernatural Fic)
Jun. 10th, 2014 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Domesticis Angeli (Domesticated Angel)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam+Dean+ Cas
Rating: Teen for a touch of bad language
Word Count: 684
Warnings: Aside from the inherent stupidity? None.
Short Summary: Birthday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mtxref_fic who said they liked curtain fic. And er, well, I hope this fits!
Author’s Notes: I’m more of a Dean girl than a Sam girl, so hopefully I’m not too far off on Sam’s voice. Also, I do not speak Latin and had to rely on Google Translate so any errors in the title are all Google’s fault. :)
Domesticis Angeli (Domesticated Angel)
Sam strolled through the kitchen intending to grab a beer, a bag of chips and plant his rear back on the sofa (where, by the way, he planned to stay for eternity). The last several weeks they’d been on the go non-stop and he was beyond tired. Exhausted was an understatement. Dean had made a run to the grocery store – presumably for actual food, but more than likely he’d return with beer, pie, and maybe some more chips – leaving him blessedly alone for a few minutes.
So, when he passed by the sink and found Castiel staring mournfully into it, he was a touch taken aback.
“Cas, what are you doing?”
The angel looked up from the sink piled with the remnants of last night’s take out and met Sam’s steady gaze. “Dean instructed me to ‘do the dishes’ but I’m not sure what he wants me to do with them. He didn’t specify, Sam.”
Biting back the smile he felt forming on his lips, Sam patted the angel on the back. “He never does, Cas. What he meant, however, was that you needed to wash the dishes.”
Castiel’s eyes found Sam’s, a confused look sparking in their depths. “And how do I do that?”
Sam moved into position beside Castiel, digging around beneath the dirty dishes until he could get the stopper in the drain. “Like this. Put the stopper in like I just showed you and then you turn the water on.”
The angel moved the handle of the faucet until water started pouring out of its spout. He frowned at the way the droplets hit the dishes and splattered everywhere. “It’s making a mess. Make it stop.”
Chuckling, Sam reduced the flow of the water and grabbed a nearby bottle of dish soap. “There, it’s not splashing you any longer. Now add a little soap and –”
“What is that,” Cas exclaimed, jumping back and pointing at the sink.
Blinking, Sam looked from the freaked out angel to the sink and back. Reaching into the bubbly whiteness, he flicked soapy froth at the smaller man. “They’re soap bubbles, they get the dishes clean. You know what? Why don’t I wash the dishes and you dry them. It might be easier that way.”
“Dry?”
“Yes, Cas, dry. Stand over here,” he ordered as they switched places. He picked up a plate and took the sponge to it, scouring all of last night’s Chinese from it. Running it under the water to rinse off the soap, he handed it to the angel. “Now take that towel and wipe all the water from it.”
Castiel studied the plate in his hand for a moment before doing as he was told. “Like that?”
Sam gave the plate a quick look and nodded. “Just like that. Here’s another.”
They were still washing dishes when Dean arrived fifteen minutes later. Water covered the countertop surrounding the kitchen sink, little islands of deflating bubbles floating here and there. “What in the hell happened here?”
Cas looked up and met his gaze. “You told me to ‘do the dishes’, Dean, but you didn’t tell me what I should do with them. So Sam and I, we made a mess.”
“I can see that,” Dean observed, trying desperately not to laugh at his adorable little angel. “But as long as the plates and forks are clean, I don’t actually give a damn.”
“Good,” Sam said, tossing a towel at his brother. “You can clean the counters since we did all the real work. Cas,” he said to the angel, “grab two beers and come watch TV with me.”
Dean watched his brother walk out of the room, shaking his head. “Why do I feel like I was set up?”
Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean, Dean. Now, I must take Sam his beer before he gets… cranky.” Snagging a bottle out of the fridge, he gave Dean a mischievous smile and wandered out of the kitchen.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he laughed. “Can’t say I know what the hell just happened, but I’ll be damned just the same.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam+Dean+ Cas
Rating: Teen for a touch of bad language
Word Count: 684
Warnings: Aside from the inherent stupidity? None.
Short Summary: Birthday fic for
mtxref_fic who said they liked curtain fic. And er, well, I hope this fits!Author’s Notes: I’m more of a Dean girl than a Sam girl, so hopefully I’m not too far off on Sam’s voice. Also, I do not speak Latin and had to rely on Google Translate so any errors in the title are all Google’s fault. :)
Domesticis Angeli (Domesticated Angel)
Sam strolled through the kitchen intending to grab a beer, a bag of chips and plant his rear back on the sofa (where, by the way, he planned to stay for eternity). The last several weeks they’d been on the go non-stop and he was beyond tired. Exhausted was an understatement. Dean had made a run to the grocery store – presumably for actual food, but more than likely he’d return with beer, pie, and maybe some more chips – leaving him blessedly alone for a few minutes.
So, when he passed by the sink and found Castiel staring mournfully into it, he was a touch taken aback.
“Cas, what are you doing?”
The angel looked up from the sink piled with the remnants of last night’s take out and met Sam’s steady gaze. “Dean instructed me to ‘do the dishes’ but I’m not sure what he wants me to do with them. He didn’t specify, Sam.”
Biting back the smile he felt forming on his lips, Sam patted the angel on the back. “He never does, Cas. What he meant, however, was that you needed to wash the dishes.”
Castiel’s eyes found Sam’s, a confused look sparking in their depths. “And how do I do that?”
Sam moved into position beside Castiel, digging around beneath the dirty dishes until he could get the stopper in the drain. “Like this. Put the stopper in like I just showed you and then you turn the water on.”
The angel moved the handle of the faucet until water started pouring out of its spout. He frowned at the way the droplets hit the dishes and splattered everywhere. “It’s making a mess. Make it stop.”
Chuckling, Sam reduced the flow of the water and grabbed a nearby bottle of dish soap. “There, it’s not splashing you any longer. Now add a little soap and –”
“What is that,” Cas exclaimed, jumping back and pointing at the sink.
Blinking, Sam looked from the freaked out angel to the sink and back. Reaching into the bubbly whiteness, he flicked soapy froth at the smaller man. “They’re soap bubbles, they get the dishes clean. You know what? Why don’t I wash the dishes and you dry them. It might be easier that way.”
“Dry?”
“Yes, Cas, dry. Stand over here,” he ordered as they switched places. He picked up a plate and took the sponge to it, scouring all of last night’s Chinese from it. Running it under the water to rinse off the soap, he handed it to the angel. “Now take that towel and wipe all the water from it.”
Castiel studied the plate in his hand for a moment before doing as he was told. “Like that?”
Sam gave the plate a quick look and nodded. “Just like that. Here’s another.”
They were still washing dishes when Dean arrived fifteen minutes later. Water covered the countertop surrounding the kitchen sink, little islands of deflating bubbles floating here and there. “What in the hell happened here?”
Cas looked up and met his gaze. “You told me to ‘do the dishes’, Dean, but you didn’t tell me what I should do with them. So Sam and I, we made a mess.”
“I can see that,” Dean observed, trying desperately not to laugh at his adorable little angel. “But as long as the plates and forks are clean, I don’t actually give a damn.”
“Good,” Sam said, tossing a towel at his brother. “You can clean the counters since we did all the real work. Cas,” he said to the angel, “grab two beers and come watch TV with me.”
Dean watched his brother walk out of the room, shaking his head. “Why do I feel like I was set up?”
Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean, Dean. Now, I must take Sam his beer before he gets… cranky.” Snagging a bottle out of the fridge, he gave Dean a mischievous smile and wandered out of the kitchen.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he laughed. “Can’t say I know what the hell just happened, but I’ll be damned just the same.”
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Date: 2014-06-11 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-11 06:09 pm (UTC)