LightDarkandChaos returns! Whooo!

...

That was the part where you laugh, FYI. Seriously though, I can hardly believe I'm actually posting something. The invasion of the Original Ideas (dun dun dun!) took me totally by surprise. Getting out of the Sonic fandom shortly after didn't help. I'm sorry, I met some wonderful people in the fandom, but I just can't seem to get back into it. This means that the unfinished stories will remain unfinished, unless someone else wants them. PM me if you'd like to finish them.

And now the intro rant is over. Finally. Enjoy LDC's return to fanfiction at last! (Or don't. Whatever. Just don't be mean about it.)

We've Got To Stop Meeting Like This

"We've really got to stop meeting like this, Cas," Dean said.

The angel in question gave him an odd look. Almost as if he was evaluating Dean's sanity. "I fail to comprehend the source of your discontent."

Translation to normal English: I'm sorry, what?

"This!" Dean gestured toward Cas with the hand not clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. Cas looked around with a vaguely puzzled expression. Dean resisted the urge to slam his head into the dashboard. "I mean you dropping into my car unannounced. You're going to give me a heart-attack one of these days, and then where will you be?"

"I imagine that I will be wherever I happen to be when your heart fails," Cas said matter-of-factly.

Dean eyed the dashboard longingly. "I mean, I'll be dead. What next?"

"I imagine that you will come back to life shortly." Cas spoke with all the conviction of a man who could see the future. There were times Dean wouldn't be surprised if he could and just wasn't telling. Dicks with wings, all of them.

"Okay, that was a stupid example." Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "But it would be annoying, time consuming, and something that neither of us wants."

Cas nodded.

"So we've really got to stop meeting like this," Dean concluded triumphantly. "The feathery-woosh thing was fun at first, but it needs togo."

Cas stared blankly at him. The 'I'm sorry, what?' went unsaid.

"Don't be cute," Dean growled. "I'm talking about your teleportation thing."

"I don't have one," Cas said immediately. "Your brother says that the networks have nothing worth watching."

Face, meet hand. "Teleportation, not television." Dean's voice was slightly muffled, but the irritation was audible. He hoped.

"There's a difference?"

Dean changed tactics. "Your little feathery-woosh thing. That's what I'm talking about."

Cas gave him another blank look. It wasn't cute in the slightest.

"The thing where I'm driving, there's a soft feathery-woosh noise, and you're suddenly riding shotgun. Quit it. Sooner or later, I'm going to veer into traffic and it'll be on your head. Can you live with that?"

"Seeing as you will come back within the week, yes," Cas said promptly.

Dean sighed. "You see this thing on the side of the car? It's called a door. It's there for a reason: so passengers can exit the vehicle. Use it and give its existence meaning."

"Alright." Cas opened the door and started to leave.

"Not while I'm driving!" Dean yelled in a manly way that did not resemble a little girl squealing in the slightest, no matter what Sammy told you.

Cas closed the door with a very put-upon expression. Dean waited for his fingers to unclench before speaking again.

"This," he said, rummaging through his pockets, "is a cell phone." He held it up for the angel to examine. "Use it." With that, he tossed it into the passenger seat.

Cas looked at it dubiously and tentatively pressed a few buttons. Nothing happened. He frowned and looked back at Dean. "I like my way better."

Dean gave up, pulled over, and let his forehead meet the dashboard. The fireworks in his head almost drowned out the sound of feathers.