"Goddamnit, Dean!"

It's the seventh time today and at this point Sam's considering giving up altogether on attempting to leave the motel.

"It's involuntary!"

See, here's the thing. Sam had walked in the previous day and found Dean alternating between laughing and grunting in an overly happy manner when watching the T.V., and it was far, far too long before Sam realised that there were an awful lot more naked people on T.V. than usual. And not on Skinemax either.

The worst thing is, they still haven't worked out where the clothes go. And it's getting expensive; Castiel turned up to give Dean the lowdown on where the other angels were scanning for him at the moment, stared with an intense, slow, quiet horror as he lowered both hands to confirm he needed to cover his modesty before commencing with doing so, and had left sharply after, likely to find another outfit like Jimmy's. Or, well, as close to it as he could manage.

Sam - because Dean was, as ever, a horny bastard who didn't know how to not think about sex, regardless of circumstance - was bearing the worst of this, whatever it was. He'd given up putting on jeans, but damnit, if Dean couldn't keep himself together long enough for Sam to run outside in a towel, then they had serious problems; not least because apparently this wasn't a visual proximity thing. Dean had at least managed to get out to the Impala for a moment before whoomph! Sam's clothes, all gone again.

Sam didn't know if it was a witch or the Trickster or God in all his actual self having a crazy-weird sense of humour, but at least there was one bonus to it all.

Sam wasn't a patient guy either, and giving head had always been Dean's favourite non-vocal form of apology.

"I'm telling you the truth, Nate."

"No, Nate, he's lying."

"I'm the one who has to tell the truth, Nate."

"No, I am. He's the liar, I'm the one who has to tell the truth."

"Sophie!" Nate called, "A little help!"

She yelled back, "I'm a little busy. I'm trying to cross a river with Parker, Sterling, and a big bag of money, but the boat's only big enough to take two at a time. But I can't leave Sterling with Parker or Parker with the money! What do you think Nate?"

"We should definitely switch problems," Nate answered.

Eliot came to a stop and frowned. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the sound of giggles coming from behind him. Very... familiar... sounding laughter. He span on the spot, frown only deepening: he could hear Christian and Lindsey; hear their laughter; hear Christian hissing at Lindsey to shut up; could hear Lindsey hushing Christian back; then more giggling followed by silence. But he couldn't see them.

Which meant...

He growled impatiently and took a step forward. The sound of hasty steps backward made him chuckle and he reached out, quickly finding the edges of the invsibility cloak and yanking it off. He stepped back again, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrow raised at the sheepish grins on Christian and Lindsey's faces.

"Hi." Lindsey blushed and raised a hand in greeting.

"Stealth mode works much better," Eliot commented dryly, "when the person you're trailing can't hear you..."

"-and it just, it just, it HURTS, you know?" Dean had started off calm, but by now was curled up in the foetal position in his chair. "That he didn't even TELL me about the whole angels-bringing-about-Armageddon thing - I mean, if he was keeping that secret, who knows what else there is??"

"I would have told you!" protested Castiel from the other side of the stage, "But I only found out myself when they hauled me back to Heaven, and afterwards I was too - too-"

"Too SCARED? I was facing the goddamn Apocalypse, how do you think I felt?"

"OK, let's settle back down now." Chuck turned back to the camera. "If you're just tuning in, we have here Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel, who have been having some trust issues of late. Now, Dean, this isn't the first time we've had you on here, have we?"

Dean uncurled from the foetal position and folded his arms grumpily. "No..."

"No, we had you on just the other week for trust issues with your brother, Sam."

"Oooooh," went the audience ominously.

"Indeed," agreed Chuck, "Shall we watch a clip?"

Dean protested, "You don't have to-", but Chuck had already signalled backstage. Grudgingly, he turned with everyone else to watch the clip on the big screen.

"You just don't understand me!" cried Sam, "You never have!"

"Yeah, you're right! You know what else I didn't understand? Your FACE!"

"Yeah - well - your MOM'S face!"

"Is your mom's face too, you dumbass!"

"STOP CALLING ME A DUMBASS!"

Dean winced as he grabbed the first chair and hurled it at Sam, and then the interview devolved into an all-out brawl, with Chuck dashing for cover out in the audience.

"We settled it eventually," grumbled Dean. "Few beers by the Impala, Lucifer breaking free, you know."

"Yes, but clearly, Dean, you have some trust issues. You had that fight with Sam-"

"He was drinking demon blood! And I was right, Ruby WAS bad news!"

"- and now you seem to be trying to start a similar fight with Castiel, who, as you KNOW from the lie-detector test we did earlier, would have told you the second he thought he could."

"He's an angel, you think he couldn't cheat that thing if he wanted??"

"If that's your attitude, how will you EVER trust anyone?" Castiel exploded suddenly. "How do you think it is for me, trusting you when your human brain is so TINY?"

"I KNEW you only wanted me for my body!"

"Not just you, not everything is about you! Just trying to fathom out your twisted reasoning in this tiny microprocessor Jimmy called a brain-"

"That's another thing he didn't tell me!" cried Dean triumphantly. "That you had another guy in there! What, were you suppressing him, or letting him watch?"

"What??" Castiel gripped his head in his hands, "You're - you're just so - you're being-"

"That's it," encouraged Chuck, "Speak your true feelings-"

Castiel suddenly opened his mouth and yelled, a human shout which quickly turned into an earsplitting screech. Lights shattered and everyone clamped their hands to their ears.

"Not THAT true!" yelled Dean above the noise, "Mortal voice, MORTAL VOICE!"

Castiel immediately stopped. "Sorry. I still haven't worked out why you can't hear my true voice, Dean."

"Oh, right." Dean curled up again. "Just another way I'm not GOOD enough for you..."

"Is that what this is about?" Castiel stared in amazement. "You think I DON'T think you're good enough for me? Dean, I'm not your father-"

"I know that," said Dean quickly, "I doubt I'd be doing what I do with you with my dad - despite what some of your fangirls think, Chuck-"

"-you don't constantly have to seek my approval!" Castiel was shaking his head. "I love you as you are, no matter what you do - or whether or not you trust me."

Dean sniffed. "Really?"

"Yes." Under his breath, he muttered, "Stupid tiny human brains..."

Dean was trying to play it cool, but couldn't stop a grin widening across his face. "I guess that's OK then."

"So... you're cool?" said Chuck, looking from one to the other. "Wanna... I don't know... hug it out?"

Dean was still trying to play it cool, so Castiel sighed, stood up, and went over and hugged him. After just a second, Dean hugged him back, tighter.

"I think you just broke one of Jimmy's ribs," Castiel said in a muffled voice.

"You're cool though, right?"

"Oh yes."

CAMELOT! MIDNIGHT!

A peasant lad is walking home from the local tavern, but alack! He is way past his bedtime! He is greeted by his parents at the door, who are both verily pissed! The alcohol is not helping as his mind goes utterly blank - whatever will he do?

BUT WAIT!

"It's MIDNIGHT?" says the blond boy who suddenly appears on his right! "We had NO IDEA!"

"Clearly," chimes in the dark-haired boy who appears just as suddenly on his left! "I must have forgotten to check the local sundial!"

There is... an awkward silence!

"It's night, we can't use sundials at night, Merlin," mutters the blond boy!

"Don't use my real name! They can't know our real identities!" mutters Merl - er, the mysterious dark-haired boy back!

"Oh, right," agrees the blond boy, staring off into the distance in search of the Comprehension, Lucidity and Usual-situation Expertise - aka, a C.L.U.E. - which (spoiler alert) will never come...

There is... another awkward silence!

"Who are you?" ask the boy's parents, POLITELY!

"We are... uh, who are we?"

"Well, I WAS going to suggest Lieutenant Oblivious, but I think you just got promoted to Captain."

"Sweet! I am CAPTAIN Oblivious, and this... is Useless-Excuse Boy!"

"Hey! I'm supposed to be the Excuses MAN!"

"Grow a beard and we'll talk!"

"I would, but... but... my chin gets too hot! And as for USELESS excuses... I... all right, I'll allow that."

There is... a THIRD awkward silence!

"He's still in trouble, isn't he?" inquires Captain Oblivious.

"Yes," say the parents in unison.

"Then our work here is done! Come, Useless-Excuse Boy, let us AWAY!"

"It was our first try," Useless-Excuse Boy attempts to excuse himself, before they disappear in a swirl of capes! The family watch them vanish down the street - are they filled with awe? or just stupefaction? - and, before the night reclaims them, just manage to hear Captain Oblivious ask,

"Hey, Merlin, what does 'oblivious' MEAN, anyway?"

Jeff's pretty sure he's gotta be high, and it's totally gotta be a prank. Cos, he was pretty sure he'd only just turned around, only just, and when he'd turned away Chris had been pouting and leaning back against the counter, shirt half unbuttoned and sweaty as hell. It was tempting as fuck, it was, but he was definitely drunk and probably high. And when the man has no sense of personal space, Jeff just can't be sure he means it.

But when Jeff turns back...

Well. There's Christian's shirt and jeans in a halfassed pile on the floor. And a frog. A big. Ugly. Bullfrog.

"What the shit?"

Stifled giggling precedes Jared popping his head into the kitchen. "Something wrong?" Kid can't keep a straight face to save his life, so Jeff only raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I see your princess--" Jared flinches hard, grunting and then giggling. "Prince, I mean prince. Your prince is a frog! You should kiss it better."

"Why is my pri-- Why is Christian a frog?" He's too drunk and too old for this shit. He really is.

"Er. Well."

"Jensen!" Jeff shouts. When these two get in trouble, it's never alone.

Both boys shuffle into the kitchen, nearly stepping on Chri-- on the frog. Jeff growls at them, gingerly lifting the poor guy up and setting him on the counter. After all, it ain't its fault it ended up in this bout of stupidity.

"Speak," he barks, and marvels inwardly at how well he pulled off sounding like John Winchester.

Jensen swallows hard, eyes darting sideways because Jared's still got the giggles. "Well, uh. We found... this, uh. Ok, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud, but we found this spell..."

Jeffery closes his eyes. Counts to five. When he opens them again, Jensen's still looking embarassed, Jared's still giggling, and there's still a very disconcerted looking frog on his counter. "What?"

"We found a spell. Like, the old curse, from that story. Only, y'know, this doesn't require true love or, or whatever. You just gotta kiss him."

Jared's started to calm down. "You gotta kiss'm man. Like seriously."

Jeff tips his head,trying to process it all. "You... turned Christian into a frog so I'd kiss him?"

"Dude, he's been tryin' to work up the nerve to say something to you for forever."

The pieces start to slide together, even in his drug and alcohol addled brain. "And you thought this would be a good idea? He's gonna kick your asses."

"We were kind of hoping he'd be too distracted by kissing you..."

Jeff could bang his head into a wall. "Did it ever occur to you to wonder if I wanted to kiss him? That maybe you should have, oh, I don't know. Talked to me about it instead of trying to trick me?"

Jared frowns. "Don't you want to kiss him?"

Jeff pins them both with a very hard, very annoyed look. "Get out." They both stare at him blankly. "This is between me and Christian, and the spell didn't exactly change his clothes with him, so get out."

They stumble out and down the hall, and he waits until he hears their bedroom door close before he picks the frog up off the counter. He holds it carefully, watching it carefully for a moment. It's awkward, really. Where should he kiss it? On the face? On the head? The middle of it's back might be easiest...

"I'm sorry about this," he murmurs and kisses it, more or less, on the nose.

He blinks, a long stretched out moment where he's holding his breath that's barely the space of a heartbeat. Then there's Christian standing in front of him, his face cupped in Jeff's hands. And he's very, very naked. And flushed. His mouth moves for a moment, the only noise coming out an abortive attempt to speak, and his eyes go round with embarrassment.

"I... they... not the way..."

He starts to step away, but Jeff steps with him until he's pinned against the counter. He lets his thumbs brush along Christian's cheeks, sliding his hands back to bury them in his hair. Kisses him slowly, purposefully, until Chris relaxes a little. Until he kisses him back.

"You should have said something sooner..."

Nobody really thought much of it when Jack said "Good morning, Ianto. You'd look wonderful in nothing but that tie." It was the sort of thing Jack tended to say.

It was when he turned to Gwen and said, "How are things with that useless lump of lard you call a fiance? And by the way, fancy a quickie?" that everyone knew something was off.

As Jack lay recovering on the floor from the punch to the gut, Gwen turned to Tosh. "He's not the one I'd fancy a quickie with. You should wear stilettos more often."

"Never mind that," Tosh said, "something's removed our inhibitions, you damn tart who'd sleep with anything."

"It's a problem," Gwen agreed, "and I wonder if you'd take a threesome with Owen, since it's probably the only way you'd ever get him in bed."

"Let me look at recent Rift activity while I fume about the fact that once you sleep with one girl they think you'll sleep with any."

"I'd be up for a threesome," came a voice from the medical pit.

"Well, at least he's unchanged," Ianto mumbled. "Does anyone mind if I molest Jack while he's unconscious?"

Three voices in unison declared, "We mind."

"Let's think deductively, Probie. Palmer's dressed like a scarecrow and Gibbs is made of metal, so he's the tinman."

"And it hurts when a metal man whack you on the back of your head," Tim muttered, rubbing his head.

"And Agent Jardine is the lion who's afraid of germs."

"And are either of us surprised that Abby is a witch?"

"A good witch, don't forget the adjective or she might turn a little less pleasant."

"So the question is how do we get home? Let's skip the yellow brick road and flying monkeys and just find the ruby slippers."

"But how?"

"Let's canvas the area and ask the locals."

"I like it," Tony said, nodding, "Good idea, Toto."

"I am NOT Toto!"

"Quit your barking, let's get to work."

“Uh, Gwen, where did you say that energy signal was coming from again?”

“The Millennium Stadium, why?”

“Well, this might be a little more difficult than usual….”

“What’s going on, Ianto?”

“At the moment, a concert…. Lady Gaga, I think.”

“Oh. Lots of people around, then.”

“Exactly.”

“Good luck…”

~forty-five minutes later~

“Gwen?”

“Here. Everything OK?”

“You could say that… we’re on our way back… might be a good idea to get the retcon out…”

“What happened?”

“Do you read those gossip magazines?”

“When I’m at the dentist, why?”

“You know those rumors about Lady Gaga?”

“I heard a few…”

“They’re not true.”

“Wait… you mean… she’s the source of the energy signal?”

“Got it in one. We’re bringing her in now.”

“What do I need the retcon for?”

“We’ve picked up a few… followers. She has dedicated fans, I’ll give her that….”