Chapter Text
Dean Winchester had known for years this day was inevitable. By an unusual stroke of luck, Castiel had not been with them the first time, and Dean had never wanted to go anywhere near one of those cursed clown shows ever again.
But he had known this moment would come.
“A Supernatural convention?” Castiel asked
Dean was staring at his beer, but he just knew the angel was doing that little head tilt.
“Yes. They’re fans of Chuck’s books, including some that only got on the internet,” Sam was explaining, taking out his phone to show photos of that pathetic nerd fest.
“They look like you and Dean,” Cass says, looking through the phone’s horrific stash. “Except these two men are obviously romantically involved.”
“Uh, well, yes. And they helped us get rid of the ghosts.”
Cass finished his examination in silence, then returned Sam’s phone, evidently unphased.
“They had another one last year,” Sam said as he swiped his phone to what would doubtlessly be more hellish images.
Castiel took the phone again with a frown then finally reacted.
“Is that supposed to be me?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, savoring it. “You were really popular. There was a booth selling little angel blade keychains.”
“I see half of them are sporting anti-possession tattoos.”
“Seriously, it was a sea of trench coats.”
“Washing over a beach head of Army surplus.”
“Even the chicks were sporting black stubble.”
“What’s a Samulet?”
“All right, all right,” Sam said, making a bitch face at them both. “The point is, they’ve got another one of these lined up, and Rowena says she’s certain someone has put a spell on the event.”
“Another convention?” Castiel asked.
San ducked his head slightly. “It’s actually a cruise, and there are several fandoms.” Sam looked at his laptop and read them off: “Star Trek, Dr. Who, Star Wars, Stargate, Xena, Hercules, Torchwood, Supernatural, X-Files, Airbender, an, uh, oh, furries.”
“What are those?” Castiel asked.
“The point here is that we’re dealing with a ship-load of nerds with no life,” Dean said, standing up to make his way over to the ‘fridge for a beer. “So they spend their time watching TV shows for the twentieth time and tweeting about their mothers and awesome new plastic knives.” He turned around to Cass’ frown, Sam’s scowl, and Jack’s own head-tilt. “In short, babes in the woods.”
“You’re saying we need to protect them, but we don’t know from what, other than that it’s some sort of spell?” Castiel asked.
“Yes, but the problem is that we don’t have tickets, the thing is totally sold out, and they don’t need anyone on the crew,” Sam said. “In fact, they’re being really protective about the crew because of fans who’re trying to sneak onboard.”
“Are we going to be stowaways?” Jack asked eagerly.
“No,” Dean said. “Sam and I are going to join the costume contest because, evidently, that’s the sort of crazy BS we do now.”
“Dean,” Sam said with the expected tone of annoyance. “There is no other route to getting on this cruise now. If Rowena had warned us earlier—”
“But she didn’t,” Dean said.
“I don’t understand,” Castiel said. “What sort of contest?”
Sam pulled up the pictures of the current entrants on laptop. “There’s three for each fandom, and for Supernatural, it’s one prize each for three pairs: Sam and Dean, Dean and Castiel, and Other.”
Dean, Cass, and Jack looked over Sam’s shoulder as he went through the current entrants.
“So, the idea is Sam and I will enter the Sam and Dean contest, and then Castiel, you and Jack can enter the Other thing.”
Jack made a small noise.
Dean looked at him.
Jack shrugged. “Some of these guys really look like Sam and Dean.”
“What?” Dean glared at him.
Jack refused to make eye contact. “I mean, I’ve read all the books, and some of them don’t really make it clear that Sam is much taller than you, and the way the books describe your bodies—”
“Hey!”
Sam turned to look at his brother. “Dean, don’t take it out on Jack. He’s right.” Sam clicked over to a photo. “These guys look more like the book version of us than we do.”
Dean wanted to tell Sam to go piss up a tree, but looking at the guys on the laptop screen, he had to admit they did really look like “Sam and Dean.”
“We’re better off with Dean and Castiel,” Sam said, clicking over to different photos. “Nobody’s really got Cass down.”
They all watched as Sam went through eight photos, and indeed, each showed a Castiel that looked like Lt. Colombo or a flasher.
“Why are most of them female?” Castiel asked.
“Well—” Dean began.
“Gender isn’t really part of the consideration for the costumes,” Sam said quickly. “My point is that we need to win one of these, and we have a better chance with Dean and Castiel, and then Jack and I can try for the Other.”
Dean really hated Sam right then.