Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my little fic barrage last night.  Here is one more repost/archiving attempt before I shuffle off to work. 

The Supernatural/Big Bang Theory crossover. 

I want to add that many of these are my wayward incomplete verses.  All of them have the potential of being worked on; I just don’t know when.  I felt bad, but then I reminded myself that I have a lot of completed fics and I felt less bad.  Well, kinda.  *slinks away*

Story now.

Gabe sighs inwardly as Cas works himself towards apoplexy. He hadn’t agreed with most of Dr. Adler’s paper either, but Cas can’t let it go. It’s like he’s offended Adler would subject the science world to such drivel.

“Cas,” he finally interrupts. “The guy’s an idiot. No reason-“

He’s himself interrupted right as they reach the apartment by a man coming out of the door across the hall.

“Oh, hey,” the guys says.

Dislike instantly crawls up Gabe’s spine. The guy’s one of those gruff jock bone-headed types that made his and especially Cas’ life hell in high school.

“Hello,” he says shortly.

Despite his cold tone, the guy smiles as he shrugs into a stereotypical tough guy leather jacket. Awesome.

“I’m Dean. Guess we’re neighbors now.”

Obviously, Gabe thinks as he rolls his eyes.

“Gabriel,” he offers because he may hate everything Dean stands for, but his mother has taught him manners. He was obligated to use them until Dean proved himself an idiot.

Dean nods and then looks at Cas, eyebrows raised. When no sound is forthcoming, Gabe glances at him too.

Cas is frozen to the spot, eyes wide behind his thick glasses, hands clutching his computer bag in tight white-knuckled fists.

“You gotta name?” Dean asks, a slight smile on his girly lips.

“Yes,” Cas says too loudly and Gabe winces. It’s coming. Something about this man has already tipped Cas into a landslide of intensely awkward verbal diarrhea.

“And since you live here, you should eat. I mean with us. We have food,” he says, holding up the bag of Chinese as evidence. “Enough for you or you can share my part. I don’t mind.”

Gabe stares. Babbling, yes, but he’s never heard Cas invite another human into his realm of notice before in his entire life.

“Ah, well, I’ll have to raincheck. I’m meeting my brother in a few minutes,” Dean says, not unkindly. Not necessarily a brush-off.

Although Gabe could still punch him for rejecting Cas’ first invitation of all time.

“You will come tomorrow,” Cas commands.

Dean snorts. “Yeah okay. Catch you later, Gabe.” He winks at Cas. “Blue eyes.”

And then he’s bounding down the stairs, leaving Cas to deflate against the door.

“Smooth, Cas.”

Cas places a palm over his chest.

“I believe I’m having some sort of cardiovascular event.”

“Tell me about it,” Gabe says.

“What’s the matter with Cas?” Jo asks, her eyes glued to Ash’s game of Oblivion playing out on the television screen. “Turn left,” she adds to Ash.

Ash instantly obeys her. He always does.

“He’s twitterpated,” Gabe answers from his desk, his own attention mostly on the paper he’s writing. Before Jo can question him further, Castiel bursts back into the living room, a bag of trash in hand. Probably from the bathroom because Dean is coming into the apartment and Cas has been cleaning for hours. Even though the place is always pretty much spotless from Cas’ obsessive neatness.

“How’s it going?” Gabe asks.

“I have to vacuum my curtains,” Cas says absently as he puts the trash in the bigger can and darts out of the room again.

“Wow,” Jo says, stunned. “I didn’t know Cas cared about sex. What’s her name?”

“His,” Gabe answers. “When Cas’ marginal sexuality awakens, it’s strictly because of guys.”

Not that it’s happened more than twice. A math nerd in high school and chemistry professor in college. And Gabe is positive nothing ever came out of either of them. Probably because Cas’ way of having a crush is to stare from afar and melt into the background. For Cas, speaking to Dean is practically the equivalent of a normal person inviting someone to bed.

“Okay, then, who’s the guy?”

“Our new cornfed neighbor,” Gabe says, rolling his eyes. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Don’t say that,” Ash says. “Our boy deserves some loving.”

Gabe couldn’t agree more. There’s no one more devoted or brilliant than Castiel, but most people dismiss him as a freaky staring weirdo who cares more about his instruments than people. And they’re mostly right. He needs more humans in his life.

Come to think of it, he simply needs a life.

“It’s time to eat,” Castiel announces, once more emerging from the hallway. “The food will be here soon. I’m going to collect Dean.”

But when he opens the front door, Castiel jerks to a halt, body tense, hand clenched around the doorknob.

“Cas?”

Gabe rolls back in the chair to peek around Castiel’s body. What he sees makes his stomach drop into his knees.

Dean is standing outside his apartment door and enthusiastically kissing a slender blond guy wearing long cargo shorts and flip flops. The contrast between the stranger’s pretty boy look and Castiel’s rumbled trenchcoat and Mario Brothers t-shirt is striking and really freaking unfortunate. If Dean likes surfer twinks, then Cas is shit out of luck.

Damn it.

Dean isn’t completely sure he’s going to dump Kyle until they’re kissing goodbye and all Dean can think about is whether he needs to buy toliet paper. Pretty much the least romantic topic of all time. Not that this thing with Kyle was ever romantic. He’s a cool guy or whatever, but they both pretty much knew it was more about getting off than getting along.

Still, it sucks having to break up with someone after you spent the afternoon fucking.

When he pulls out of the kiss, Dean’s already working the words out of his mouth, but a motion from the corner of his eye draws his attention across the hall.

Blue Eyes is staring at him from inside his apartment.

And for some reason, it makes Dean’s stomach clench. He very deliberately steps away from Kyle.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Who is that?” Blue Eyes asks bluntly, pointing at Kyle with open distaste. It should probably piss Dean off, but instead, a smile tugs at his lips. At least Dean doesn’t have to guess at this guy’s emotions.

“I’m Kyle,” he says in a snotty tone that grates on Dean’s nerves. “Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel. Dean is having dinner here. You don’t need to be here. You should leave,” Castiel says in a matter-of-fact tone, as if this schedule is set in stone and so long as Castiel just points that out, Kyle will disappear without a fuss.

Which is obviously not what happens.

“Excuse me?” Kyle yelps, hands on his hips. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m Dean’s-“

“Friend,” Dean cuts in. “A friend who was just leaving.”

A stress on the word ‘leaving’ and Kyle gets the meaning right away. Anger flashes in his dark brown eyes, but no measure of hurt. He obviously knew they weren’t serious. In fact, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason Kyle were annoyed is because of being called out. Or maybe losing the prospect of somewhat regular sex.

“Whatever,” Kyle grumbles. “See you around, Dean.”

Castiel glares at Kyle all the way down the stairs until he disappears from sight.

“We eat at six,” he says to Dean in an irritable tone.

“Dude, calm down. I didn’t get the memo.”

“Only because I don’t have your e-mail address,” Castiel says, reaching out to grab Dean’s wrist and tug him into the apartment. “I’ll rectify that right now.”

Dean lets himself be manhandled with a second thought.

“What the hell?”

Dean pauses in the doorway and gives the living a long once-over. His expression would suggest that he’s unused to what he’s seeing. Castiel tries to view the room with this perspective. Two leather couches and a battered old recliner. A flat screen television on a cabinet with their X-box 360, GameCube, and PS3. Five bookshelves, three with texts and two with games and DVDs. Four computers. Three white boards filled with equations. Two larges wooden desks, one a mess of papers and books, the other immaculate.

It’s no good. Castiel sees nothing extraordinary.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s like a fucking computer lab in here.”

“Oh.” Castiel frowns, thinking hard. “And you don’t like computer labs?”

Dean flashes him one of those dangerous heart-palpitating smiles. For his safety, Castiel should probably avoid all contact with Dean. But that would interfere with his primary plan to have Dean as a life partner. He assumes prolonged exposure will eventually lessen the agitating effects of Dean’s presence.

“I like ‘em fine. Just didn’t expect to stumble into one. Did you write all this?” he asks, pointing to one of Castiel’s full marker boards.

“Yes. Are you familiar with advanced sciences?”

“Well, I know how a car works, but…other than that, not really. I’m more of the working slob kinda guy,” Dean says with a shrug, but Castiel doesn’t think he’s a slob. His appearance is neat and pleasing. And understanding the inner workings of automobiles is not necessarily a common feat.

However simple it might be.

“Don’t speak poorly of yourself,” Castiel says in his best encouraging tone.

If he’s going to convince Dean he can be an acceptable partner, then he must demonstrate his ability be supportive and caring.

“It’s counter-productive,” he adds.

Behind Dean, Castiel sees Jo wincing lightly.

“Most of the stuff I do is counter-productive,” Dean admits.

Castiel’s mother once told him that his father drove her crazy. When he asked her why she liked him, her answer was that if you picked someone easy then you’d quickly lose interest. The memory is encouraging. He suspects Dean will not be easy for him. Their second meeting in the hallway is his first piece of evidence. Castiel had not enjoyed seeing Dean kissing that unpleasant blond person. Judging from the conversations his friends insist on having about their own personal interactions, most people have to be talked into relationships. The so-called courting period. If he had his way, Castiel would skip this step.

Another thing his mother told him was that when he met the correct life partner, he would know.

Castiel knows.

“You should stop doing those things,” he finally says.

Another of Dean’s smiles appears, this one slighter and yet somehow more intimate.

“Maybe I already am.”

Knock, knock.

“Dean.”

Knock, knock.

“Dean.”

Knock, knock.

“Dean.”

Castiel hears a stomping sound from inside Dean’s apartment right before the door rips open to reveal a scowling half-naked Dean. That curious warm feeling that signifies a sexual reaction grows in Castiel’s lower body as he examines Dean’s broad chest, smooth belly and thick arms.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dude, it’s 7 AM. What the hell do you want?” Dean grumbles, voice scratchy.

Surprise replaces some of Castiel’s sexual fervor.

“Were you asleep?”

Dean’s lips purse and he gestures to his pajama pants.

“What do you think, Cas?”

“Of your pants? They’re very attractive.”

Dean sighs.

“Why are you here?”

This encounter isn’t going as well as Castiel had hoped. He hopes it won’t delay their eventual coupling.

“I brought you this,” he says, holding up a bag. “I would have brought a cup of coffee, but the manner in which people enjoy that beverage is too highly personal for me to feel comfortable guessing yours.”

Dean opens the bag while Castiel is talking and draws out the blueberry muffin.

“A muffin.”

“Yes.” A pause. “It’s my understanding that potential romantic partners engage in gift-giving.” Another long pause. “Plus I thought you might be hungry.”

The expression on Dean’s face is impossible to read. Castiel wishes he’d taken more time to memorize human facial cues.

“Dean?”

“Uh, thanks, man. I, uh…I’m gonna go back to bed. Stayed up too late.” He holds up the muffin. “Thanks for this.”

And then he shut the door in Castiel’s face.

The sexual feeling is entirely replaced by an unpleasant sinking feeling.

That was not successful.

The muffin sits on the his kitchen table, mocking him.

His stomach knows what it wants. Blueberry is his favorite flavor and Castiel had managed to find the biggest and most delectable looking muffin Dean has ever seen. He knows himself well enough to understand that he will eat the muffin. Sooner or later.

But first he has to fret about what the muffin represents.

It’s my understanding that potential romantic partners engage in gift-giving.

Besides the issue that no one talks like that, Dean had not had a clue that Castiel feels that way about him. His bossy demands were obvious enough even for Dean to understand the guy liked him. But not as “romantic partners”. Who flirts like that? If Dean hadn’t immediately accepted Castiel’s awkwardness as hilarious, he would have been seriously disturbed. Castiel barely seems to understand the most basic human interactions. And now he’s set his weird romantic sights on Dean.

It’s uncomfortable and worrying and totally fucking bewildering.

There’s no way Dean is smart enough for Castiel. One look at that markerboard is evidence enough of that. Dean’s never even seen most of those symbols and even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood them. Sure, he likes all the nerdy shows and games Castiel likes. Dean’s pretty sure he could kick Castiel’s ass at Halo, but understanding his brilliant mind? There’s no way. Castiel would get bored and resentful and Dean would be forced to give him up.

He really doesn’t want to put himself in that situation.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

This situation wouldn’t suck so bad if Castiel weren’t so hot. And sweet and funny and endearingly blunt.

“Goddamnit,” he adds to the silence right before he snatches the muffin off the table and stuffs it in his mouth.

It tastes amazing.

“Heads up, Castiel,” Jo says, nodding towards the door she’d just entered. “There’s a hot guy lurking outside Dean’s apartment.”

It’s the only thing she could have said that would draw Castiel’s attention from his session of World of Warcraft. A pulse of irritation flickers through him. He thought he’d made himself quite clear. If Dean didn’t want to accept his offer of sexual companionship, he shouldn’t have taken the muffin. Or at least he should have explained he only wanted the muffin.

“What do you mean by ‘lurking’ precisely?” he asks as he shuts down his game.

“He was knocking on Dean’s door. That’s all I know,” Jo says with a shrug. “You better go over there and figure it out.”

Castiel finds it curious that his companions are all so eager to see him joined with Dean. Just that morning, Gabriel had given him a copy of gay dating tips. A fine gesture, but Castiel can’t help feeling suspicious of modern dating advice. So much of it seems to be based on misdirection and extracting ultimatums from your potential partners. But he appreciates the thought. Ash’s form of support is more subtle and entirely verbal based. Comments here and there about the value of dating ‘regular people’ and how Dean seems like such ‘a good guy’.

And now Jo urging him to accost Dean’s handsome visitor. A plan which Castiel absolutely supports.

The man is still standing outside Dean’s door when Castiel gets to the hallway, but he’s now typing on a phone. Sending a text message to ascertain Dean’s whereabouts, Castiel assumes.

“Who are you?” he asks.

The stranger lifts startled hazel eyes from his phone. An unhappy mixture of jealousy and dismay coils in Castiel’s stomach. Jo had been correct. This man is very ‘hot’. Far more physically pleasing than Castiel, which he is lead to believe can be more important to people than personality, intelligence and actions. Logically, if that’s true for Dean, they aren’t a suitable match and since Castiel feels so strongly that they are, he would inevitably choose Castiel over this man.

But his logic occasionally fails him in regards to Dean.

“I’m sorry?” the man says.

Castiel crosses his arms over his chest.

“Are you a sexual partner of Dean’s?”

A blast of shocked laughter erupts from the man’s throat.

“Oh wow, you have to be Castiel,” he says.

Some of Castiel’s unhappiness fades in face of the idea that Dean’s been telling strangers about him.

“I am Castiel. Who are you?” he repeats.

“I’m Sam,” the man says, holding out one very large hand to be shaken. “Dean is my brother, so no worries about sexual competition, dude.”

His relief is palpable.

“Siblings that grow up in the same household are often made immune to sexual attraction due to the Westermarck effect,” Castiel says helpfully.

“Wow,” Sam repeats. “You’re…unexpected.”

“Is that a good thing?”

A smile appears on Sam’s lips.

“I hope so.”

Dean’s nearing a meltdown when his phone thankfully buzzes in his pocket. A quick stop at the bank has turned into a never-ending nightmare of little old ladies counting out coins and stupid kids trying to clear up overdraft charges. The distraction manages to derail Dean’s fantasy of strangling the whining and now bankrupt brat in front of him.

Where are you?

It’s Sam. Damn it. They were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago. It’s bad enough that Dean has to schedule time to see his kid brother these days without missing it for fucking bank business.

bank. gonna kill people.

To his surprise, Sam doesn’t answer immediately. He’d expected complaining or taunting of some kind, but instead Dean is forced to glare holes into the back of the greasy-haired idiot still arguing with the teller. Beside the kid, the old lady continues to count out her pennies. Dean might die in this line.

An eternity later, his phone buzzes again.

I just met your boyfriend.

Dean winces. Of all his many bad ideas, getting drunk and babbling to Sam last night must be near the top of the list. He can’t remember most of what he said. Just that the first half of the evening had been the joyful ranting of a new crush and the second a pathetic dose of maudlin reflection on why he could never have Castiel. Sam has every right to mock the hell out of Dean.

be nice to him

He asked if we were ‘sexual partners’. Thought you said no chance?

Dean smiles to himself. It’s extremely easy to imagine the question in Castiel’s monotone.

you heard him. why do you think i said that

Oh, I get it now. Awesome. I’m going to go and tell him you love him.

Panic gathers in the pit of Dean’s stomach. Because it sounds exactly like something Sam would do in a misguided attempt to ensure Dean’s happiness. Regardless of what anyone else might think. It’s not fair to get Castiel’s hopes up like that.

dont you fucking dare

Knocking on his door now.

“Goddamnit, Sam,” Dean mutters as he shoves his phone in his pocket and abandons the line.

If he runs, he can get there before Sam starts telling the embarrassing childhood stories.

Sam has never liked any of the men Dean’s dated.

Not one of them. Not even a little. They’ve all been vapid or selfish or obnoxious or an unfortunate mix of all three. While Sam adores his brother, he’s not blind about his faults. Sam is well aware that Dean’s taste in men is exceptionally shitty. He’s far more easily swayed by a tight ass than a good personality. In all the many many years that Dean’s been screwing guys, the best Sam’s ever hoped for is that Dean will get bored of his latest terrible choice before the relationship gets too serious. It’s far less than Sam wants for Dean. He wants Dean to have someone as wonderful as Jess to care for him and make him feel as loved as she does Sam. For years now, Sam’s assumed it won’t ever happen because Dean only ever picked hot shallow men he knew he’d never fall for.

And then he meets Castiel.

Castiel is absolutely not shallow.

He is, however, extremely bizarre. When Dean came over the previous night and spent three hours talking about Castiel, he hadn’t actually told Sam anything useful. He’d gotten an elaborately detailed description of Castiel’s gorgeous hair and his beautiful eyes and his amazing ass, etc. And since it was hilarious to hear Dean babble about his crush like a twelve year old, Sam had let him do it for hours. That is, until it turned to aimless mumbling about why he didn’t have a chance. Sam had assumed this Castiel was taken or straight or so epically hot even Dean couldn’t get him.

But no. It turns out, Castiel is a hopelessly awkward nerd with thick glasses and a penchant for blunt statements and unnecessary explanation.

“You’re very attractive,” Castiel says after Sam invites himself into his apartment. He’s been introduced to a pretty blond girl named Jo and a friendly long-haired guy named Ash, but they appear content to listen with barely concealed grins to Castiel’s odd small talk.

“Oh, um. Thanks?”

“You are not as attractive as Dean, but you must both be considered handsome by the general public,” he says. “Your parents must have both had physical features considered favorable by modern standards.”

So basically he’s saying Sam’s parents must have been hot.

“Yeah, they…um, yeah, they did, I guess.”

“Of course, I’ve seen many men whose looks were considered highly above average in today’s society, but there is something different about Dean. I’ve been giving the matter a great deal of thought. The only conclusion I can draw is that the combination of Dean’s hair, eye and skin color as well as his facial bone structure and body shape is particularly pleasing to me. But why that is the case, I don’t know,” he says, sounding troubled.

“It’s probably not scientific,” Sam offers.

“Everything is scientific,” Castiel counters.

“No, I mean.” He pauses, now unsure of himself. Maybe there is some kind of science-based reason why people fall in love, but Sam can’t bring himself to believe all emotions are based solely on pheromones or stuff like that. “Sometimes a person just gets under your skin.”

“And you have experience with this phenomena?” Castiel asks, leaning forward in his chair to pin Sam with an intently curious expression. Now Sam knows what Dean meant by his ‘huge fucking blue eyes drilling into the back of your skull’.

“Sure, yeah, I felt that way when I met my wife, Jess. It was more than just thinking she was gorgeous. I wanted her. I mean, for more than sex. I wanted her to be mine,” he explains.

“Yes!” Excitement flushes Castiel’s cheeks red. “Yes, I want Dean to be mine. Sexually and emotionally.”

Sam likes the way Castiel states his desires so boldly without a hint of embarrassment. Dean deserves someone who wants him so completely. Especially since Dean can’t love by halves. Sam’s always known that once Dean falls in love, he’ll stay there for the rest of his life. Only having that same kind of passion returned is good enough for him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Dean likes me very much,” Castiel says. “I’ve never made a good impression in my life. My mother says I have too much personality for most people. I don’t understand that. I only have one personality. It’s a finite concept.”

Sam thinks he knows exactly what Castiel’s mother meant.

“Well, you’re wrong about Dean,” Sam says. “He likes you far more than he lets on and I think, if I were you, I wouldn’t give up on him.”

“I haven’t given up,” Castiel says, looking positively scandalized. “Dean isn’t mine yet.”

Oh yeah, Sam likes this one.

Dean almost breaks his neck falling up the stairs in his haste to get to Castiel’s apartment. He almost wishes he had. Not only would it save him from the coming embarrassment, but it would make Sam feel awful that he killed his own brother in his quest to mock him.

He skids into the carpet neatly placed outside the door to Castiel’s apartment and this time had to grab ahold of the door handle not to crash to his knees. It twists under his pull and the door pops open, dumping him into Castiel’s living room.

“So anyway, Dad’s just trying to sneak into Dean’s bedroom so he can leave money from the tooth fairy,” Sam is saying.

“Shut up!”

Dean remembers well how this story ended. His dad accidentally hitting the dresser, the noise waking him, Dean picking up his baseball bat and whacking his dad so hard he knocked him out, Dean then panicking and bursting into tears while Sam called the ambulance.

He hates Sam so fucking much right now.

“What is the matter with you,” he snarls at Sam’s smirking face. Dean realizes he’s conveniently forgetting how he told Jess all about Sam’s penchant for wandering around naked in their house until he was far too old to claim not knowing any better. But damnit, Jess already loves Sam. Castiel is…well, he’s new and already too good for Dean. No reason to add stupid childhood memories to his list of reasons never to date Dean.

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Castiel asks with a frown. “I wanted to hear how the story ended.”

“Yeah, Dean, he wants to hear how the story ended,” Sam echoes, his lips twitching with barely concealed glee.

“No, you don’t,” Dean says. “It’s boring. Sam, could I talk to you in the hallway, please?”

Castiel’s frown grows, turning to genuine anger. The look makes Dean feel like he stepped on a kitten. It’s not fair how big and emotional Castiel’s stupid eyes are behind those damn glasses. Dean’s never been particularly attracted to men in glasses before, but then he met Castiel and…yeah. He wonders how he looks without the glasses. Maybe early in the morning before he’s really awake. Still lounging in bed, hair messed up from all the sex, cheek pressed against Dean’s bare chest-

“Huh?” Dean says when he realizes Castiel had spoken again.

“I said I don’t care if the story is boring. If we are going to become life partners, I need to know stories of your childhood,” Castiel says in an annoyed lecturing tone.

All those distracting thoughts still in Dean’s brain. In fact, all the thoughts pause because…what?

“Yeah, Dean, if you’re going to become life partners-“

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

Judging by the look on his face, Sam will never ever stop being smug.