Title: The Postman Cometh
Spoilers: Through Season 7. Also, Gabriel never died. Because he didn't.
Pairings: Dean/Apple Pie, Sam/Laptop, Meg/Cas, Dean/Cherry Pie, Sam/L'Oreal, Garth/Mr. Fizzles, YEK/Lucifer, Cas/Board Games, Dean/Impala, Gabriel/Candy
Word Count: 960
Summary: God's Messenger decides to read through some of the letters he is delivering around Valentine's Day.
A/N: Written for spn_bigpretzel's weekly theme: OTP
There were certain responsibilities that they all had been given from the beginning. When he left and went into hiding, he gave up most of those, but not all of them. After all, being a messenger not only was a calling, it came with some decent perks. While this time of year was second only to Christmas in terms of volume, in his book, it was tops in terms of benefits. He had the ability to peek in and see the letters, emails, IMs and all other forms of communication that people were sending to the objects of their affection. And when you could pick and choose which ones you snooped on, say, your family and friends? It made for great entertainment.
So he tucked himself away in the corner of a quaint little coffee shop with cinnamon roll and a caramel mocha latte and began reading through his most recent collection.
Dear Sweetie Pie,
You are the apple of my eye. You are totally freakin’ worth it. Every day.
Why are you giving me the cold shoulder lately? You seem frozen to me. Unmoving, unyielding, stuck in the same place. Normally, you respond as if by magic to my touch. As my fingers gently glide across your surface, you awaken and we explore the world together like no others can.
Did my lame-ass brother molest you again? Did he take you to the dark nether regions of the web where diseases thrive? I will get him back if he did. And I will take care of you, too, my dear.
With deepest affection,
It’s time to ditch the plaid wearing loser and come play naughty nurse with me. I will show you what really happens to an angel every time a bell rings.
Mon Cherie, I bet that is your name in French. My amazingly intelligent brother tried to tell me differently but I am too pig headed to listen to him. But this isn’t about him. It is about you. And for you, I would be a fool, obviously. Please forgive me. Sure I nibbled on those other girls in your family. How could I resist? They were luscious and you all are cut from the same flaky crust. But you are the one I truly savor. I long to taste your red, juicy fruit once again on my lips.
Dammit Sammy, stay out of my things and quit pretending to be me! I would never write that emo crap, even to a pie!
And cherry pie, baby….it is time to get in my belly!
Until you are completely gone,
Gosh, those muttonheads can’t be apart long enough to write letters, can they?
Dear Mr. Fizzles,
My feelings for you run from my head to the very tips of my toes. Without you, my sole would be bare.
Dear Master Lucifer,
You iz my lord and I will burn hew-manz on the ceilingz for-evah for you. Also, I will make sure Sammeh Winchester iz choked many, many timez.
Your devoted servant,
Um, okay. His family certainly attracted the weirdos.
Dear Mr. Aldrin,
Thank you. I was pleasantly surprised that you responded to my initial inquiry, especially after the rude executives at Hasbro sent me the cease and desist letters along with the suggestion I seek “professional psychiatric help”. I have already gone that route, which is where I discovered my unique attachment to board games in the first place. But then again, I understand that you, too, have felt persecution at the hands of the monopoly of that major board game corporation.
But I was fortunate to discover your small company when I was getting help. Your game, “Dog Fight Promoter” was quite popular at Northern State Indiana Hospital where I resided for a short time. But the administrators banned certain games like “Diseases” and “Slap Bet” because they were deemed unhealthy for certain patients.
I am glad to hear you have a wider variety of games. I believe they are a conduit to build and repair relationships. I have a friend whom I think would enjoy “Car Battery” and another, though he may be hesitant, might benefit from playing “There’s a Clown Demon Under the Bed!” Perhaps if your own daughter Lily sees how it helps him she would be more open to it?
Finally, I was pleased to learn you are a bee lover. They are the most misunderstood insect my Father gave the world.
Geesh baby bro. Why don’t you elaborate a little bit more?
I appreciate your continued support. And what my brother doesn’t know won’t kill him (at least in this case). I mean, of all the things I have kept from him this is the most innocent. Plus our relationship has not only been mutually beneficial, it has helped my brother as well. Where does he think I come up with some of the cash for his habits? Hustling pool was never my first choice, that is certain. Not that he ever bothered to look in my duffel bag, or else he might find it, the products you have been so generous with and a certain amulet I snagged out of the trash can. But I digress. Thanks again.
Because I’m worth it,
You’ve always been able to rev my engines, so please let me rev yours.
Well, he was right. That had been entertaining. And insightful. That information might come in handy the next time he ran into any of them. Now it was time to quit playing and get to work. But before he did that, he might as well write his own letter.
You color my world-G