damalur: (hhgg • this article is a stub)
no, use my SPACE name! ([personal profile] damalur) wrote2016-12-04 01:10 am
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fic amnesty: bees

SPN mundane alternate universe genderswapped f!Cas/f!Dean. With Sam and bees, as one does.


Deanna occupied a position halfway between parent and sister in the hierarchy of Sam's world. It meant she ended up invested in all kinds of bizarre aspects of Sam's life that a parent would dismiss. In other words, any time Sam was within twelve feet of a woman, Deanna would appear at his shoulder and start telling Sam to talk to her, take her home, Sammy, ask her out, buy her a drink, marry her, screw her, c'mon dude, you need to get laid. The exact instructions would vary depending on Deanna's mood and sobriety, but the overall theme was a constant refrain.

Deanna also tended to think that Sam was secretly infatuated with any girl he brought up in conversation more than once, which was ridiculous--Sam was shit at keeping secrets from Dee, and he'd introduced his sister to every single girlfriend he'd had from the age of twelve right up to the present.

In other words, Sam should have seen this coming.

"C'mon, dude," Deanna said. She was standing at her kitchen sink, scrubbing under her nails with the beeswax soap that was a household staple. "We'll go out to a bar tonight, see if we can't pick you up a chick--

Sam scoffed.

"See, that's what I'm talkin' about," Deanna added. "You're a lot less of a prissy bitch when you're getting some on the regular. How long's it been since Sarah dumped your ass? Six weeks?"

"Seven weeks," Sam corrected reflexively.

"Too long, man," Deanna said. "You sure you can't get her back? She was a step up from that Ruby bitch." In Deanna's opinion, everyone was a step up from 'that Ruby bitch', including the fifty-year-old cougar who lived across the hall from Sam and frequently asked him over to 'look at her plumbing'.

The back door creaked open, and Cas wandered in. She was wearing a t-shirt with runes that Sam recognized from the cover of Led Zeppelin IV only because his sister had been cursed with the musical taste of a brick. There was a bee clinging dopily to her thick hair, and when she wandered over and leaned against the counter shoulder-to-shoulder with Deanna, Deanna scooped the bee up and directed it out the open window.

"What do you think, Cas? Should we go out tonight and see if we can get Sammy laid?"

Cas stared at Dean. "I don't care whether Sam fornicates or not," she said. After a couple more seconds of unbroken eye contact, she added, without actually looking away from Dee, "No offense intended, Sam."

Sam laughed. "None taken, Cas."

"There's a burger in it for you," Deanna said.

"Sam, it appears I can be bribed into caring about your fornication habits."

"Damn straight," said Deanna.

And that was how the three of them ended up at the Roadhouse on what Deanna euphemistically called 'a mission from God'.


Sam was never entirely clear on the finer points of Deanna's cohabitation with Castiel. It was months before he'd even thought to wonder at the arrangement; Cas had been Deanna's friend since a little after Dad had died, and for a long time, she'd been Deanna's only friend. Sam had been maybe fifteen when Cas had turned up at Dee's side. In those early days they'd appeared to barely tolerate each other, but Deanna kept inviting Cas to hang out, and Cas kept accepting, and at some point Sam had learned to read the fond undercurrent beneath the arguing.

A week after Sam graduated law school and announced that he was taking a position at a legal aid society in Sioux Falls, Deanna had made an offer on the house. Up to that point, she'd been living in a crappy studio apartment around the corner from the auto shop where she worked; there was enough room for a kitchen table with three chairs, a bed, and a couch that converted into a pull-out bed. It wasn't as bad as the one-bedroom Sam and Dee had lived in after Dad had died, but it was close. Cas had still been working at a beekeeping supply emporium in Lawrence at that point, although she and Deanna met up halfway in Omaha when they had the time.

In short succession, Deanna bought the house, Sam moved into a crappy studio apartment of his own, and Cas appeared in Dean's driveway with a truck bed full of suitcases and beehive frames. The house had come with ten acres of land. It was outside of the city limits and a hell of a lot closer to Bobby's salvage yard than Sam's office at the South Dakota Legal Services, but Deanna and Cas needed the room--Cas for her hives and all the extra crap that came with making homemade honey wine and beeswax candles, and Deanna for the classic car restoration business that she eventually started running out of the back shed.

Sam crashed regularly on their couch, primarily because Dee's house felt more like home than anywhere else he could remember living. Maybe it was because it was a world of its own, at the end of a long gravel road that wound through an unmowed meadow, or maybe it was because Deanna or Cas or both were always rambling around, since they worked from home. Maybe it was the familiarity. Maybe it was just that the second-hand furniture paired with the crisp new paint made the place feel like what Sam's childhood should have been--one of them was always coming up with some new improvement project, whether it was refinishing the big front porch or tearing out the wainscoting in the basement, but neither of them seemed to understand the point of buying furniture pieces that matched. The kitchen set had been a folding card table and lawn chairs until Sam had taken it upon himself to intervene.

His wonder at the arrangement had amounted to a passing thought about whether Deanna charged Cas rent. The rest he'd accepted as a given--where went Deanna, so went Castiel. There was only one exception, and that hadn't worked out well for any of them.


The first incarnation of the Roadhouse, the one that had existed back when Bill Harvelle had still been alive, had been in Nebraska. The second one, the one that existed after Bill's death, was in South Dakota, because, as Jo liked to joke, "Mom got tired of living in the sticks."

[There was more after this, but my notes are mostly things like "Deanna doesn't identify as bi" and "she was a war vet" and "Cas had to fight her own kind of war against her fundamentally religious family." Also, at some point Cas was very seriously going to say, "There has never been anyone for me but your sister, Sam." Meanwhile, from the other side: denial and pining.]


"Shut up," Deanna said. "You want the truth, Sam? The truth is that Cas is the best person I know. The truth is that Cas deserves someone good and kind, someone who treats her sweet, someone smart enough to keep up with her, someone as gorgeous as she is. I may not have a fancy law degree, but even I can figure out that a fucked-up drop-out greasemonkey isn't good enough for her."

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