Title: They Came Together

Pairing: Destiel, and a smidgeon of Sabriel later on.

Summary: It all starts with a case. When a town near the bunker turns into the singing, dancing world of a cheesy musical, Sam goes to investigate. He doesn't find the mysterious musical "monster," but it ends up following him back to the bunker- and it decides making Dean Winchester as uncomfortable as possible is it's sole delight. It does this by launching Dean and Castiel into the cliche world of a Romantic Comedy.

In other words, this is the one where everything is a cliche, the universe seems to be pushing Dean and Cas together, Gabriel is a dick, and Dean is that self-aware Disney character that always questions why everyone is singing.

A/N: Note 1: Yes, the title is based off the new Rom Com with Amy Poehler and Paul Rudd (essentially, they make fun of Rom Com cliches the whole movie. It's great).

Note 2: This is a prompt fic! (yay!) Here's the original prompt text: "Basically Dean and Cas keep getting in romcom cliche-type situations (i.e. tripping and falling into each others arms, getting stuck in a closet together) Maybe someone was messing with them and cast a spell? coughcoughgabrielcough"



Dean wasn't getting anywhere with this. He flipped through the musty old book, eventually slamming it shut with a frustrated sigh.

About a year ago, Sam and Dean took out a vamp's nest in a town not far from the bunker. They'd had to clue the sheriff in on what was killing her citizens, and after they'd ganked the vamps, they'd given her their number and told her to call them if she ever came across anything else weird.

They didn't actually expect her to call.

But four days ago, she did. She seemed completely wigged out, talking about how the entire town was turning into a cheesy musical. People were randomly bursting into song and there were spontaneous flash mobs, the whole deal.

Dean had his money either on psychotropic drugs or Julie being batshit crazy, but Sam took her call seriously. Three days ago, the younger Winchester left to check out the town.

He went alone, leaving Dean and Cas at the bunker to research what could be causing the music.

They tried working together on the research, but eventually (after an entire day passed and they got absolutely nothing done) realized they should probably split up. When they tried working together, it went something like this:

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean grinned. "I have a theory: it's a demon. A dancing demon."

Cas had only cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Why would a demon be dancing?"

"Ugh, seriously? Forget research, Sammy can figure this out on his own. Right now, I need to educate you on the wonders of Buffy."

So that's why Dean was alone on a Friday night, researching, which felt pointless in and of itself because what sort of lame-ass monster would turn the world into a cheesy musical? At least turn it into something exciting, you know? Like an action movie or something.

Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fished it out.

"Hey, Sammy…did you find your musical monster?" Dean asked lightly. He heard Sam's annoyed huff over the line and could practically feel the accompanying bitch face.

"I got there and it all stopped. Julie freaked—she swore she wasn't imagining it. I asked several townspeople, and they all said the same thing—craziness for days, then it all stopped."

"Right when you got to town?"


"Careful, Sammy. This thing might've made you the second you showed your face."

"Yeah, well, I'm on my way back now. When I stuck around for a few days and it didn't start back up, I just told Julie to call if she had more trouble."

"'Kay. Where are you now?"

"I'm like ten minutes away."

"Oh," Dean said, looking at the mess he made of the library. "Uh…okay?"

"Am I going to see something that's going to scar me for life?" Came Sam's amused voice.

"What? No, dude. You know I don't bring chicks back to the bunker. I just need to do some speed cleaning, that's all."

"You're unbelievable."

"Why?" Dean laughed. "You know when you left that I'd make a mess."

"No, because—whatever. Nevermind. I'm gonna let you go now, okay?"

"Sure. See ya," Dean hung up, setting his phone on the table.

A loud bang came from somewhere in the bunker. "Jesus, what the hell is Cas doing?" he wondered out loud, putting several books back on the shelves. "Okay," he said. Dean stood with his hands on his hips, looking around the library. "Beer bottles."

He managed to scoop almost a dozen beer bottles into his arms (he was not an alcoholic, okay? This was three days' worth, and Cas had some of them) and headed toward the door. He paused, looking down to rearrange the bottles in his arms, and then kept walking—only to violently collide with Castiel, who had just emerged from around the corner.

The beer bottles clattered to the floor, along with the stack of books Cas was holding.

"Shit," Dean swore, bending to pick up the books. Cas, unfortunately, had the same idea, and their foreheads collided. "Ow. Sorry," Dean laughed weakly, rubbing his forehead. He crouched to pick up the books, Cas reaching for the bottles.

"Watch where you're going next time, Cas," he teased, the smile falling from his lips when he looked up at the angel.

Now, Dean hated clichés, so he hated himself for what he thought next, but it felt like time stopped when he looked up into those beautiful blue eyes. He'd admired Cas' appearance before, obviously, but geez, those eyes were bluer than the sky on a cloudless day and even deeper than the ocean (and okay, seriously, what the hell? There's a reason he never pursued a life as a poet). Really, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Was that normal? He wasn't that smitten, was he?

Cas looked up at the same time Dean did, their faces close enough that Dean caught every emotion that flashed across his best friend's face. And why did Cas look like he was in, like, super blu-ray hi-def? They weren't that close, but Dean could see everything.

There was something like surprise, then a brief second of confusion, then…awe? Castiel's lips parted with a quick intake of breath and his eyes widened slightly. Dean, mesmerized, watched the flutter of eyelashes against a tan cheekbone as Cas blinked several times rapidly.

Dean licked his lips, not even realizing he'd done it until Castiel's eyes slowly—way too slowly—something was definitely weird here—dropped to Dean's lips, where they seemed to rest for an eternity.

Jesus, Cas was hot. With his stupid, perfect, angelic lips and eyes and cheekbones and messy dark hair that was currently blowing in the breeze (Wait. They were inside. Why was there a breeze? And this seemed like an awful lot of thoughts for a short amount time. Exactly how long had they been staring at each other?).

He opened his mouth to speak, losing his train of thought when Cas' attention again zeroed in on his lips.

"Hi," he finally managed to breathe.

Cas started guiltily, his eyes quickly darting away from Dean's mouth back up to his eyes. When he registered what Dean had so eloquently said, his head tilted to the side and a small smile appeared on his lips. "Hello, Dean."

Dean gave him a nervous smile back, and they fell into staring again. "Okay, what the hell?" Dean asked, more to himself than to Cas. "What's happening here?"

Cas jumped a little at Dean's initial outburst, looking away with a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I…I believe we're attempting to pick up the items we dropped?" He said with a nervous glance at Dean.

"Uh…right." So Cas didn't notice anything weird, then?

"Dean," Cas asked as he scooped the empty bottles into his arms, "are you…cleaning?"

"Sam's on his way back."

"I see."

They both stood up, Dean now holding the books and Cas holding the bottles. "Uh. I'll put these away for you if you go recycle those for me."

"That sounds fair."

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"


Cas squinted at Dean, but thankfully didn't push. Dean wanted to ask if Cas noticed anything weird about that whole encounter, but what was he supposed to say? Cas, do you happen to feel hotter than usual? Because you look it. Were we staring at each other for a really long time just now? Because it kind of felt like years. Did that whole thing feel like a scene from a badly written romance novel? Because it did to me.

No thanks.



After that, Dean more or less forgot about the incident. Sam came back with Chinese, which was pretty much enough to make Dean forget anything unpleasant. (Not that being that close to Cas was unpleasant. Because it sure as hell wasn't.)

By the next morning Julie still hadn't called them, so Sam called her. The weird stuff hadn't started back up yet, apparently.

"Weirdest case ever," Sam huffed.

"Or," Dean began, "there was no case in the first place."

"You're right, Dean. I'm sure the whole town just went crazy at once."

Dean shrugged, getting up from the kitchen table. He jumped when he turned around, having to grab the table to stabilize himself. "Jesus, Cas," he fussed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since Sam got off the phone," Cas said. He was leaning, arms crossed, against the counter.

"Warn a guy," he mumbled, heading toward the fridge.

"Are you getting a beer?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you want one?"

"No, but can you grab me an apple?"

"Nope. Don't wanna encourage your bad eating habits," Dean grumbled.

Just as he was passing Cas, he tripped. Well, he didn't trip, it was more like someone kicked his legs out from underneath him. He squeaked (a sound he would deny making to his dying day) as he felt himself fall backward, and he knew in that moment: this was how he died.

But he never hit the ground.

Apparently he was still going to die, just of embarrassment instead.

Because when he finally realized what was happening, he found his face closer to the angel's than it had ever been before. Said angel stood with his arms wrapped around Dean, having caught the hunter mid-fall. He didn't remember doing it, but he had wrapped one of his hands around the back of Castiel's neck, his fingers tangled in the short hair there.

They looked like they were practicing a dip for an elaborate (and sexually charged) dance.

Swallowing audibly, Dean blinked up at Cas, who was currently the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground. Cas shifted Dean's weight in his arms to hold him more securely, temporarily bringing their faces even closer together. Dean could feel Cas' warm breath on his lips, and all he would have to do to bring them together was angle his head slightly…

"Awwww," Sam teased between bouts of laughter. "You guys are adorable."

Dean pulled his face away from Cas' as much as possible and glared at Sam, looking as threatening as he could while essentially being cradled in the arms of his angel.

"Uh, Cas?" he growled, looking back at Castiel. The tip of his nose brushed against Castiel's cheek, the small contact make his heart beat faster. "You can let go of me now."

"Oh," Cas sucked in a deep breath. "Of course."

Cas helped set Dean upright. As soon as the hunter was free from Castiel's grip he took a large step away and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"You don't catch dudes like that, Cas!" Dean snapped.

"Apologies, Dean. Next time I'll let you fall on your ass," Cas snapped back with equal venom.

"What the hell did you even trip on?" Sam asked, still laughing.

"Nothing. Shut up. The floor is slippery."

Cas tilted his head to the side, opening his mouth to say something.

"Not a word out of you, blue eyes," Dean said, pointing a finger at Cas.

"In the future, how would you prefer I caught you, then? If that was unsatisfactory."

"Just don't. A bruised tailbone is better than being a friggin' damsel in distress."

"Blue eyes?" Sam snorted, barely able to stop laughing long enough to breathe.

"Shut up, Sam! I'm going to watch TV—nobody follow me."

"Does that mean you're not going to grab me an apple?" Sam called after him, grinning.



Dean grumbled, sinking onto the couch and turning on the TV. The history channel was still on from when Sam was watching his stupid archaeology documentary earlier.

Dean laughed out loud when he realized he'd just turned on a documentary about angels, in the Bible as well as in pop culture. The main dude mentioned Michael, which stirred up more than a few unpleasant memories, but he quickly moved on to discuss the archangel Gabriel.

The documentary guy had a really weird thing for Gabriel, Dean realized quickly. He was practically singing the angel's praises, talking about his multiple appearances in the Bible with zeal. In art, in mythology, in songs…

"You wouldn't like him so much if you'd met him buddy," Dean snorted, changing the channel.

This new show looked like a procedural cop show. God, Dean hated procedural cop shows. The main characters (Dean assumed) were standing around a dead body, theorizing. The "FBI" showed up, and the hot detective chick (aka the only reason Dean was still watching) seemed upset about it. And when the FBI guy waltzed up, Dean felt his jaw drop. Dark messy hair, blue tie, black suit, fucking tan trench coat. All of it.

He changed the channel. It was some cat food commercial or something— a litter of kittens filled the screen. "Aww," Dean found himself saying, quickly spinning to make sure neither Sam nor Cas had followed him in there. So Dean Winchester occasionally found fluffy animals cute? Whatever. It was no big deal.

One of the kittens was a fluffy little black thing with bright blue eyes that reminded him a lot of…Dean groaned, changing the channel. How the hell did a kitten remind him of Cas? Jesus, he had it bad.

Next, was the food channel, and the chef on the screen looked exactly like Castiel. Dean blinked, rubbing at his eyes, but when he looked again the chef was still there—round face, sweet smile, rough voice. Everything.

He changed the channel again, pressing the buttons on the remote with more force than necessary.

Okay, a soap opera. It seemed safe enough. Upon initial inspection, none of the characters looked anything like Cas.

"You're an angel," one of the women was saying, "An honest to God angel. I could kiss you."



"What's a…s'more?" Cas asked Sam.

Sam huffed out a laugh. "Uh…what? It's a dessert thing…with marshmallows and chocolate."

"Ah. That makes more sense, in context. I saw it on a TV program."

Sam nodded. "Gotcha. Hey, Dean didn't drive you too crazy while I was gone, did he?"

Cas looked confused. "No, he was actually quite companionable."

"Okay. I just ask because he seems, I don't know, weird today."

"Son of a BITCH!" They heard from the living room, followed by a loud crash. A few seconds later brought Dean stomping through the kitchen to the garage, muttering under his breath about "every damn channel." Sam and Cas both flinched when they heard the door slam.

"I see what you mean," Cas nodded.