Title: The French Correction
Beta: None, sorry!
Rating: M for later chapters
Genre: Humor, Romance and Drama I quess.
Warning: Bad language, bad humor, and some M/M loving.
Summary: When Balthazar zaps Dean and Sam into the parallel universe where their life is a TV-show, Dean finds himself to be in a very serious, very GAY relationship, with a tweet-happy actor, looking exactly like Cas. That may cause some trouble on the way.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't know, never happened, no offense.
A/N: My first fanfic in a long time. My first SPN fanfic ever. Please be gentle, though all comeback is appreciated. Read and comment!
Oh, and English is not my native language, so there are bound to be spelling errors, since I don't even have a beta. : (
But, back to the fic... Set in place during the episode The French Mistake. My version of that. (8 Enjoy.
"Dude, would you just turn that off! It's driving me nuts!" Sam cried out, when the annoyingly sharp and loud ring tone pierced through the comfortable silence of the big and fancy study room for the sixth time.
"I think that's your phone, Mr. Padalecki," Dean replied, not lifting his gaze from the computer screen, surfing through some ridiculous fansite of the ridiculous TV-show, Supernatural, trying to make this whole mess to make a little more sense. Too bad it just didn't.
Apparently here, Sam was some bigshot moviestar, with a horrible lastname, married happily to a fake-Ruby and they lived in a huge mansion, were filthy rich and had a goddamn camel in their backyard. In Canada. This all made Dean's head hurt so much, he didn't even dare to read what the fansites had say about his-parallel-dimension-self.
Dean glanced at the clock on the computer screen. Fifteen minutes to midnight. He sighed and turned the damn thing off. He really needed some sleep after all this insanity. For this really fell under that category, even in Dean's life. Not everyday even he got stuck in a screwed up dimension like this.
Dean got off the fancy, padded and mahogany chair to throw himself on the comfortable and expensive looking leather couch where he landed with a sigh of content, ready to get some shut-eye.
Only he should've known, he wasn't lucky enough for that.
Sam had finally located the persistently ringing phone, and was now staring at the small flashing screen with a frown.
"Misha... That's fake-Cas, right? Why's he calling me?"
"How the hell should I know? Answer him," Dean instructed, putting his hands behind his head and shifting on the couch to get more comfortable. Sam looked unsure, before pressing the small green button on the phone.
"Jared! Thank fuck, you finally answered! I've been calling you for like hundred times now! Is he there with you!" Misha yelled at the other end so loud, that even Dean could hear him as clear as if he had been standing in the same room with them.
"Is who here?" Sam asked, confused.
"Well, the freaking prop-guy I so desperately want to speak with! Who do you think! Is Jensen there?" Misha was hysteric and sounded a little more than just a little angry. And Sam looked a little scared. Dean would've laughed at this, if he hadn't realized that by searching Jensen, Misha was really after him. And when ever somebody sounding like that was looking for you, it was never a good thing.
Dean shot up from the couch, trying to signal to Sam with waving arms and angry faces to not give up his location, but of course the Sasquatch had to go and rat him out.
"Uhm, yeah, he's here...?"
Dean felt like slapping his brother.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," was all that Misha shouted, before he hung up the phone.
Sam was left with a dumbfounded look on his face to stare at his own phone.
"Well... That was weird. Why do you suppose he's looking for you?" Sam asked, lifting his gaze from the phone to Dean, who was standing threateningly close to him, looking kind of angry himself.
"I don't know, but why the hell did you have to go and tell him where I am? Didn't you hear what he sounded like? The dude's so pissed off, I've probably banged his wife or something! And after all the crap I've put up with today, I would've really appreciated not getting punched on the top of this all!" Dean shouted, letting himself fall back on the couch, glaring angrily at Sam, who had that kicked puppy-look on him, trying to crouch behind his computer.
Letting his brother vent out his frustration and anger, Sam peeked from behind his laptop, looking thoughtfully at Dean.
"I don't know Dean... I don't think he sounded that mad. I think he sounded more like... worried."
Dean just huffed, rolling his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later they both were startled by the loud and violent knocking from the front door. Dean jumped up, all tensed and ready to hide if he was about to get attacked by the pissed off Cas-look-a-like, whilst Sam got up from his seat and headed down the hallway to get the door. Dean could hear the muffled and short conversation between Sam and the Misha-guy, which was probably consisted only by polite 'hellos' and an angry, shouted demand of;"Where the hell is he!"
followed by ominous footsteps to the study. Dean swallowed hard.
For a moment he was completely thrown off by what he saw. Misha appeared to the doorway, looking as pissed as Cas had back then when he had kicked Dean's ass on that alley when Dean had been about to give in to Michael, but that was not what had Dean stunned. It was the fact that this guy, in the body that Dean had become to recognize as Castiel, (even if the body really did belong to one Jimmy Novak) was not wearing a suit and a trench coat. He was wearing some normal blue jeans, black button-up shirt, and Converse-tennis shoes. No suit. No trench coat.
It was like looking at a bald Sam.
But Dean was abruptly waken from his thoughts by an angry shout.
"Not to sound like your fucking mom, but where the hell have you been! I looked for you all over the sets, and nobody knew where you had vanished off to, and why the fuck you don't answer your phone!" Misha took few steps closer to Dean, looking positively pissed. Dean was just confused. Why had this guy been so keen on finding him? Dean glanced over Misha's shoulder to Sam, who stood in the hallway, observing the scene in front of him. Dean tried to get some help form him, but his brother just shrugged, just as baffled as he was.
"Yeah, right... my phone... I don't really know, where it is and... for the vanishing I'm... sorry? I just came over here with..." Dean pleaded help from Sam with his eyes and Sam mouthed him silently his fake name. "Jared! To practice some acting... stuff. You know?" Dean offered carefully, hoping to cover what ever he had done wrong. Misha's piercing blue eyes drilled their gaze into Dean's green ones and for a moment his breath stuck to his throat.
"Practice acting stuff? At the middle of the night? With Jared?" Misha asked, not buying Dean's feeble excuses. Dean drew in a sharp gasp of breath, trying feverishly to come up with something, and to avoid Misha's gaze. It was something in that man's eyes, that made him feel weird. Almost vulnerable. Dean shook his head slightly, trying to clear it.
"You see, it's...-"
"Are you upset with me or something, Jensen?"
Dean's eyes shot up, and locked back to the gaze with Misha's. But his time, Dean saw a twinge of something in the other man's eyes. Something that could maybe be... hurt? Dean wasn't sure, since Misha's still angry voice wasn't giving away anything, but still that small twinge in the crystal blue eyes made the insides of Dean grow cold. It was freaky. Dean didn't like it.
"Upset? With you? No, no, of course not, why would I be?" Dean quickly dismissed it, waving his hand nonchalantly, attempting something like a casual smile. Misha tilted his head. In a very like way Castiel always did, when he didn't quite understand something.
"Well let's see, you were acting all freaky earlier today, you don't answer my calls, you disappeared somewhere in the middle of the day, and I finally find you at Jared's place, in the middle of the night," Misha said, annoyed, spreading out his arms.
Dean glanced at Sam again, raising his eyebrow. What the hell did it matter to this guy what he did? Again, Sam just shrugged, looking as lost with the situation as before. Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was always such a great help.
"It's got nothing to do with you, I swear. I'm just having... a really bad week at work," Dean said to Misha, forcing a fake smile on his face. Misha stared at him for a while, before his angry face finally softened into a small smile. It was even more shocking than the absence of the trench coat. With the few past years Cas had started to smile, or at least he had developed a face that could be interpret as a smile, but this, a real heartwarming smile, on Cas' usually so stoic face... A warm something spread in Dean's stomach. He shook his head again. This, seeing and being able to read emotions of "Cas'" face was really messing with his mind...
"Really?" Dean heard Misha ask, and he could honest to God hear the smile and the relief in his voice.
"Yeah, really," Dean answered, and felt a real smile spread on his face as well.
"Okay then, let's go home."
With this sentence, warning bells went off in Dean's head and he felt the smile die on his lips.
"Home?" he heard himself stutter.
"Yes, home, Jensen. I'd really like to go and get some sleep before we have to be back on the set by 7 am," Misha said, gesturing towards the door, as a signal to Dean, that they should go. And Dean just couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"So... I live with you?"
Misha let out a small laugh. His teeth were bared and the corners of his eyes wrinkled as he did so. It was strange. Dean had never seen that look on that face. He kind of liked it.
"Yees, you've lived with me for almost three years now. You guys been drinking much tonight?" Misha asked, laughter in his voice, turning to look at Sam with an raised eyebrow. Sam just shook his head, but Dean noticed the look he had on his face. The look that told Dean that Sam was figuring something out. Dean could practically hear the merciless thinking going on inside Sam's head. Dean frowned. Had he missed something?
Misha turned back to look at Dean, obviously waiting for him to start moving towards the door.
So Dean did. Only that when he reached Misha and Sam who were standing by the study room's door, Misha also reached forward, grabbing Dean by his forearm, and kissing him straight on the lips. It was only a quick peck, lasted no more than a second, but it had Dean rooted on the spot. He felt his heart stop beating for a moment, and his blood was turning into ice cubes in his veins.
Oh hell no...
Misha pulled back and smiled at him.
"It's just... Jens, if you're having a bad day, please for the love of fuck, talk to me about it, you know how paranoid I can get. Besides, that's why I'm here for."
You got to be kidding me...
He was dating fake-Cas!
Misha squeezed Dean's arm gently, before turning to Sam.
"Thanks Jared, and sorry for all this. We'll go now. See you tomorrow."
And with those words Misha started walking down the hallway, still keeping the hold he had on Dean's arm, practically dragging the petrified hunter after him.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, cursing every higher being he knew that existed. He knew he had made a few enemies during his life but come on! This was just the universe literally, royally screwing him in the ass! What had he ever done to deserve this?
And then he heard the muffled laughter behind his back, coming from Sam.
Christ... he was never living this down.