#seriously i wrestled with which angel to do but Gabriel fits

[littlestardescendants]

Okay remember that poll I did like a week ago asking about the Pettiest Angel??

Well it was for this!!

See Gabriel might not be above this and Mirjami is the embodiment of "I just came here to have a good time and I'm feeling so attacked right now" Meme ROFL-

[mattzerella-sticks]

Pitching a Fit (Coda to 13x17)

So, I couldn't watch the episode live because some network decided to air a baseball game instead of the regularly scheduled programming. Instead, have this baseball inspired one-shot on why the Winchesters paused their search for ingredients. Because they got tickets to go see a baseball game. So rather than investigating an old Men of Letter's bunker and seeing what happened to Gabriel... the boys get to take Cas to his first sporting event - where things happen. (AO3)

           “Seriously, a baseball game?”

           Dean pinned Sam with a dour look, daring him to say more. The effect was lost on the younger Winchester, who’s suffered under worse threats with more follow through. Not only that, but the image of Cas playing with an old foam finger in the rearview mirror was very distracting.

           “I’m just sayin’,” Sam sighs, leaning against the passenger seat, “There’s probably more we can be doing than watching a couple of people chase a ball for hours.”

           “Like what?” Dean asks him, “We already have the blood and the fruit… I think that deserves a break.”

           “What about the Seal of Solomon!” Sam says, “Or… or the archangel grace –“

           “Sam,” Cas interrupts, “While I understand your worry, I have to agree with Dean. We can take some time for ourselves… and with Dean’s Cave out of service for the time being –“

           “Dean Cave, Cas, s’not possess –“

           “I think this is a great alternative,” he finishes, leaning between the brothers, “You do know they call this ‘America’s favorite pastime’?” The air quotes laughable because of the extra-long appendage. But while Sam chokes back a chuckle, Dean just fixes a soft gaze on the angel.

           Sam rolls his eyes, ‘Of course.’

           “Anyway, the game should be starting soon,” Dean says, opening the door, “I don’t wanna miss the first inning.”

           “Wouldn’t be different than the other eight,” Sam says, following him out with a tired smile. Dean races ahead, unable to contain his excitement any longer. Ever since returning from Scooby-Doo he’s been like this – more open and childlike.

           Like now, weaving between other fans, dipping out of sight the closer he gets to the entrance. Dean and baseball had a long history. Where wrestling was something he and their dad shared, baseball was Bobby’s thing. They would play catch every time they visited, staying up late to watch games together, and even one summer day Bobby managed to score three nosebleeds for a Minor League game.

           They were pit stops of good memories on the tragic highway that was their lives.

           “It’s nice to see him this excited,” Cas pipes up from behind, “I wonder what he’ll look like when he realizes I have the tickets.”

           Sam blinks at him, smirking. “How did Dean even manage to get tickets?” he asks him.

           “He didn’t,” Cas smiles at him, “I did. While at the mall, Dean and I happened across a booth of chance. There were many prizes, and the grand one was a pack of tickets. Dean played but… he only won the finger,” Cas twists his wrist, showing it off, “He looked… so disappointed. I did what I had to and… pushed things to my favor.”

           “You’re too good for him,” Sam says, punching Cas lightly on the shoulder, “Come on, we might as well catch up to him before he pitches a fit at the gate.”

           Cas whacks him with the finger, “Yes. Let’s.”

           They find Dean near the entrance, tapping his foot impatiently while he waits. When Sam and Cas get closer, Dean makes a scene of expressing his impatience. Sam shoves at his head while Cas produces the tickets for the girl working, and lets them in without much of a fuss.

           And when they get to the seats, Sam realizes why he was excited. The three of them were in very good seats – with only one letter before the number and not three. Nine-year-old Sam would kill to have seats like this. And 35-year-old Sam might be killed by the people behind these seats.

           “Awesome, right?” Dean asks, plopping down, “The best seat Cas’s mojo can buy!”

           Cas sits to his left, rolling his eyes, chuckling. Dean pats the seat next to him, “C’mon, saved you the empty one. That way you don’t annoy anyone but me with your moose legs.”

           “Shut up,” Sam says, sitting next to him. He doesn’t do anything but blush when Dean looks at him with raised brows – Sam’s knees crushed by the seat in front of him. Thankfully, the announcer starts up and cuts Dean off before he could say anything.

           After that, Dean practically ignores him for the rest of the game. And it’s not like his eyes are glued to the field, either. Sam pays more attention to it, and baseball is his third favorite sport (after soccer and hockey). No, all of Dean’s focus is pinned to the foam-finger wearing angel in the trench coat.

           Who is politely chatting with the perky redhead sitting next to him, oblivious to Dean’s glare. Sam caught it from the corner of his eye, when she sat down – it was hard not to. But then her eyes latched on to Cas, and Sam could tell where her mind had drifted. So did Dean.

           It’s a good thing they had to leave their weapons in the car.

           “That’s really funny,” she giggled, flipping her hair over her shoulder and laying her hand on Cas’s shoulder, “I’m real glad you won those tickets.”

           “Thank you,” Cas says, “It is a funny story, when you think about it.”

           “A real laugh riot,” Dean grumbles, jerking Cas’s coat, “Hey, Cas, have you noticed…” he goes off on a tangent, pointing to the field somewhere. The angel listens attentively, leaning closer to better hear Dean’s words (‘Good use of whispering, Dean,’). Sam glances over, catching the irritated expression on the girl’s face.

           ‘And this was supposed to be relaxing,’

           It carries on for at least three more innings after that: Dean and the redhead playing tug-of-war with Cas, who was too nice to say anything. When the redhead calls Cas over to look at something on her phone, Sam notices the jumbotron cut from an ad to a large shot of the audience. Familiar music starts to play, and he realizes what’s going on before the oversized heart overlays the shot.

           “What’s going on?” he hears Cas ask. Dean starts to answer, before the girl talks over him.

           “It’s the Kiss Cam, silly? Haven’t you ever seen one?” she asks, pointing at it, where an elderly couple was putting on a show, “If you and some lucky girl get put up there, you have to kiss.”

           “Really?” Cas blinks, Dean fuming behind him, “Those are the rules?”

           She smirks, leaning in close, “Totally! I mean – look! What are the odds?”

           Sam stares wide-eyed as the girl and a confused Cas are reflected on the large screen, chants of ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ in the background.

           “C’mon,” redhead says, “Rules are rules…” she starts to lean in, puckering her lips. Sam waits with baited breath, watching to see what happens. He’s so focused on how frozen Cas looks, he completely misses a red-faced Dean swinging an arm around Cas’s shoulders.

           “Except,” Dean starts, not making eye contact, “If one person is in a relationship with another. Then you can’t touch Miss… missy.” Redhead glares openly at them, leaning back. Dean looks satisfied for three seconds before he sees the camera shift a scant few inches, focused now on himand Cas.

           ‘Now this,’ Sam thinks, grinning, ‘Is entertainment.’

           The chants haven’t quieted, instead growing louder and more impatient. Dean licks his lips, looking everywhere before settling on Cas. The angel is silent, watching, waiting for Dean’s next move.

           Dean tries to speak, but can’t get anything out except mangled words and curses. Cas laughs, nodding as if he understood the sentence the older Winchester strung together. Which, he probably did. Sam might have grown up with him, but Cas seemed to get Dean better than anyone else.

           So Cas knew Dean, with thousands of eyes on him, would probably need a little help getting the baseball rolling.

           That must be why he closed the distance between them, and cupped (as best he could with a foam finger) Dean’s face in his hands. It was a heavy kiss, overflowing with years of tension and passion. But when Sam looked at the screen, all he could see was that damned foam finger.

           ‘Cas’s plan all along,’ Sam smirked, glancing once more at the duo before Cas pulled back. Dean’s face broke into a grin, eyes glazed and unfocused. Cas leaned back into his seat, laying his free hand on Dean’s knee.

           The camera moved on, finding another couple, but their kiss still hung in the air. Sam watched Dean for any sign of life behind the eyes, hoping Cas didn’t kill his brother. When Dean shifted his eyes over to Sam, he could see him becoming more aware of his surroundings. He tensed; ready to bolt if Cas weren’t squeezing his knee. The scene could play out in any way, but it was up to Sam to decide which one.

           “I just have one question,” he says, looking between Dean and Cas, trying to hide his smile, “…Which one of you is the pitcher, and which one of you is the catcher?”

           Dean flushes pink and sinks into his seat, muttering out a weak “Shut up, bitch.” Cas blinks at him, tilting his head.

           “We don’t play baseball, Sam,” he says, oblivious. Sam snorts as Dean scrubs a hand down his face.

           “No, Cas,” Dean starts, “Sam’s just try’na be clever.”

           Sam says, “It’s a euphemism.”

           “But what could you be,” his eyes light up, “Oh, you’re talking about sex.” Dean groans, trying to disappear into the seat, “If you really are curious, Sam I must apologize but we haven’t reached that part. Although from conversations with others I’ve heard Dean would most prefer being the ‘catcher’.”

           Dean shoots up, “Who the hell said that?” Sam tunes them out, rather intent on focusing on the game rather than the people Cas have discussed Dean’s sexual preferences with. Although from time to time he does peek over, beaming at the flustered, exasperated, and adoring look on Dean’s face as he argues with Cas.

           ‘Maybe baseball isn’t that bad,’ Sam thinks, ‘As long as there are angels in the outfield…’