This was written for my friend Misha, with the prompt she offered: "Dean, Cas, a stuffed animal, and David Bowie."

Dean follows Castiel into his bedroom, hands wedged deep into the pockets of his jean jacket. He's nervous, can't stop twining his fingers together, and he's glad that they're out of sight so Cas can't see them. He's reasoning with himself that being with Cas is no different than being with Sam, that they're best buds and friends hang out and play video games and punch each other while talking about girls, but something is different. The feeling isn't one he can place, but his stomach won't stop flipping and he feels overly hot, and Castiel's room is small and cramped and what. the fuck is that. on the bed?

It's like no animal Dean's ever seen before, and it's huge. Dean feels his nervousness give way to a quick shot of terror before he realizes that it's just a stuffed animal and it probably isn't going to hurt him. He's still concerned though, because it's one of the last things that a grown man should have sitting on—and taking up half of—his bed. Dean can't take his eyes off of it, and he stiffens when he realizes that it's just staring at him with these vacant, hyper realistic eyes. The gaze makes his skin crawl; whoever made the damn thing put way too much effort into the detail, and he half expects it to leap off the bed and attack him. "Cas, what the hell is that?" He asks, dreading the answer almost as much as he dreads going any further into the room.

Cas doesn't respond at first, kicking his shoes off and plopping down on his bean bag chair. It doesn't register at first, but Cas just took up the only comfortable seat not next to the furry monstrosity, and Dean takes a subconscious step backwards. Cas fixes him with a stare almost as intense as the glass eyed one still trained on him, bright blue eyes watching his every move. "What's wrong with you? It's a stuffed animal."

"Some stuffed animal…" Dean grumbles, toeing off his shoes and sitting cross legged on the floor. He can still see the abomination out of the corner of his eye, and can't decide if turning his back to it is a good idea or not. He hears Cas let out this short little laugh, and when he looks at his best friend he sees amusement written all over his face. "What?" Dean stares back, still half fixated on the thing lurking just outside of his view.

"I'm surprised you don't remember me talking about it." The tone of Castiel's voice is more surprised than anything, but Dean can hear the underlying hurt and he suddenly wonders what the hell he did wrong. Cas stands up and crosses the room to his bookshelf, fingers running over the smooth plastic of DVD cases and VHS sleeves. He makes a small sound of success in the back of his throat and pulls one out of the stack, coming back and handing it to Dean. He doesn't say anything, just sits down across from him and waits.

Dean turns the case over in his hands, trying to figure out why Cas gave it to him. The title of the movie is The Labyrinth, and judging by the cover, it's the kind of movie that's only good when you're toasted. The cover art scares him a little bit, this blonde guy with more makeup than a hooker and hair bigger than a semi taking the forefront. And, fanned out behind him, there's a myriad of odd costumes and creepy, old fashioned effects, and… and that thing from Castiel's bed. His head shoots up and he stares at his friend, utterly perplexed. "That… why do you… It's…" He trails off, blinks, and thrusts the DVD back into Cas's hands. "You're a freak."

Castiel smiles real big and gets up, grabbing the stuffed animal and shoving it into Dean's face, laughing at the muffled sounds of disturbed protest. Dean is utterly miserable, pinned between the floor and the creature from his nightmares, but at least he's not nervous anymore.