Imagine your OTP getting really confused while trying to build IKEA furniture.
“Uh, is everything okay?” Sam asks, staring at the angel standing in the middle of the empty living room, surrounded by scattered tools and piles of pieces of what looks like could be the building blocks for a bed, but may also be a spaceship or some kind of demon altar. Sam is really hoping it’s a bed.
On the other side of the room, Dean is sitting on the floor with his laptop open on his lap, nursing a soda and smiling whenever he glances up at where Cas is clenching and unclenching his fists as he glares down at the floor. He looks like he finds Cas’ concentration endearing while Sam is kind of terrified of the wrath he’s about to unleash on their hardwood floor.
“He won’t let me help,” is all Dean says, and before Sam can ask help with what?, Cas says sharply, “I am an angel of the Lord, Dean, I can build this bed by myself.”
Dean shrugs like he’s been hearing that all day and goes back to his laptop. Sam brings the fast food he was called to bring over and drops it at Dean’s side but turns to move forward and help Cas, but sensing his intent, Cas whips his head around and just stares. It’s so inhuman and angelic in a way Cas never is anymore that Sam is startled, and Cas doesn’t stop until Sam shrinks back, cowed and a little terrified, and slides down against the wall to sit with his brother.
When Sam looks over in quiet panic, Dean offers him a sympathetic french fry and adds, “He opened the box up the second we walked in. Wouldn’t even let me take it up to the bedroom first. I think it’s a nesting thing,” and Sam is, not for the first time, very grateful that his domestic life doesn’t involve a supernatural creature.
Imagine your OTP writing erotic fanfiction of you and your worst enemy.
See the only problem with this is that I don’t have a worst enemy…. unless you mean… procrastination?