entrancelogs | + Now the Jingle Hop has begun [OPEN] +

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Entry tags:

+ Now the Jingle Hop has begun [OPEN] +

Who: Everyone [OPEN]
Where The Ballroom
When: December 18th, 6PM-midnight (oocly however long you want to keep logging)
Rating: Well gosh, that really depends on you folks and how you behave, doesn’t it? I’m going to tentatively guess PG-13 though.
Summary: The mansion's decided to throw you all a party out of the goodness of its heart. You know, if it has one. This is the open log for the Jingle Bell Rock portion of the event!
the Story:

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air.

What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet
That's the jingle bell,
That's the jingle bell,
That's the jingle bell rock.

The ballroom is decorated extravagantly for the occasion, with all of the same sorts garland and holly and lights covering the rest of the mansion, at the moment. There is another tree at the far side of the room as well, though not nearly the size of the one in the front hall, decorated in a very classy white. From the ceiling, fake snow is falling from somewhere that can’t quite be seen, but it does not seem to gather on the floor more than a flake or two.

There are tables with chairs to one side, near a table filled with delicious food and beverages of all kinds, from wine to wassail to eggnog and more. The rest of the space is reserved for dancing.

We could tell you that the mansion is going to force you to dance forever and ever or something, perhaps until your feet fall off, but we won’t. Gosh, you’re all so suspicious. I mean really. The party-goers may wonder at first, some entering very suspicious of the mansion’s intentions, but it will quickly become apparent that for once…for once, it doesn’t seem to be a trap.

So giddy-up, jingle horse, pick up your feet and jingle around the clock. You can even go mix and mingle in the jingling feet. That’s the Jingle Bell Rock!

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Castiel notices that he's been noticed. Hard not to, really, what with watching Dean so closely as he is, even if his attention is occasionally diverted by observing the crowd as a whole. Humanity is strange and beautiful, and confusing. Ostensibly this is a Christmas celebration, but it appears to be a mating ritual as well.

He decides that he may as well watch from a closer vantage point, and moves toward Dean. He is also curious to more closely observe this younger man - boy, really - whose company Dean doesn't seem to mind.

As he nears the two, he brushes against a serving table, bedecked with food and decorations. A small brass bell attached to it rings with a clear high note.

With no more warning than that sound, suddenly Castiel pitches forward a couple feet as two wings spring (no other word for it) in the opposite direction from his back. The abrupt weight stops him in his tracks, and he peers as best he can behind him, calmly craning his neck. They're medium warm gray, and very fluffy. This is new, he reflects; they've never been corporeal before.

He's caught up in the watching, green eyes slightly glazed over and taking in the surrounding 'party guests' - Santana is...Jesus, she looks good, and he recalls his mantra to chant at the back of his mind, Not yet legal, not yet legal, not yet legal-

So instead, Dean looks to Cas, who has started making his way towards them with something akin to purpose. He's being awfully obvious about it, too. Any remaining subtlety at all is completely destroyed when Castiel bumps into a table and big wings grow from his back.

"...hooooly shit," Dean swears under his breath, eyes as wide as dinner plates. They're...they're really real. Really fuckin' real. And big, and slightly gray-ish, and they look soft and suddenly he wants to touch them. Dean nudges Kurt none-too-gently, still staring.

"Dude. Dude, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Oh, Kurt is absolutely seeing it. In fact, he's been eying Castiel again out of the corner of his eye ever since he caught Dean peeking over at him. Dean was staring back at the attractive stranger who had been staring at him.

Kurt's mental attempts to will Castiel to go away forever failed spectacularly though, and he finds himself wanting to curse as Cas approaches them. That annoyance is quickly disrupted by the ringing of a bell and the appearance of giant wings, and Kurt jumps back a little at the sudden movement.

"It was a little hard not to," Kurt admits. Then he turns to Dean, keeping his voice even and calm, even though he wants to either panic or scream on the inside. He's not quite sure which yet. "...Dean? Is this someone you know?"

Please say no. Please say no.

Admittedly, he's a little distracted by the fact that a dude with wings is standing maybe twenty feet way from them. Even more distracted in the fact that said dude is someone he knows personally, now, and had a brief stint for the past two nights trying to keep him in their shared room. Dean tells himself that it's loneliness and not attraction that drove him to resort to making up pathetic excuses and reasons why Cas should stay, that way he could at at least avoid tying him to a chair.

Eyes trained on the angel in awe - Holy fuck he wants to touch those wings - Dean leans close to Kurt as the he addresses him. "Yeah, he's-" Dean narrows his eyes a little at Castiel, wondering exactly what those feathers would feel like beneath his fingers. Everything would be fine as long as Cas didn't leave. Or, at the very least, they left together. Not separately. Dean doesn't think he can handle that. Not right now.

"He's from my reality. His name's Cas. He's an angel." The hunter cocks his head to one side and runkles his brow in confusion. How did those wings appear? The logistics of this didn't make much sense, but who was he to question the mansion? "He's sharing my room with me," Dean adds absently, then huffs a laugh. "He stares like a statue, doesn't he? It's weird."

Cas still wants to get closer to Dean and his companion, who have both noticed him now (an understatement, as he is aware that there is currently a lot more of him to be noticed, with the bulk of the wings, which are mostly folded now, but would easily each be at least his own height in length when spread). Despite having a fairly good sense of their shape and bulk behind him, the wings are an encumbrance in this crowded room. And he doesn't want to inadvertently harm anyone with them.

So he pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. It takes him a couple minutes and several attempts (not that anyone apart from him can tell, it being an internal struggle), but finally he figures out which mental muscle to flex, and the wings disappear back to wherever they came from.

Finally reaches his small audience - the one he's aware of, anyway. There are probably other people in the room staring at him, but he takes no notice.

"Hello, Dean." He turns to Dean's companion, and offers a nod. "Hello."

Oh, sorry. Kurt's still stuck on the knowledge that some stranger bitch claiming to be an angel just showed up and decided he was going to be Dean's roommate, and that Dean is perfectly okay with this. To say that Kurt is shocked and appalled is an understatement.

"...Hello," he finally says in return. "I'm Kurt Hummel." Kurt's definitely staring at him, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he just had wings a few minutes ago. He nods too, but only as an after thought, when he realizes he's probably being rude.

Part of him really, sincerely does not care that he's being rude though, as long as it makes this "Cas" person go away. But instead he turns his head toward Dean and manages to remain calm, somehow.

"Well, you two must be very close in your world then, if he's living in your room now," Kurt says, with one of the fakest, most plastic stepford-esque smiles he's ever worn. "It must be nice."

Edited 2010-12-21 07:42 (UTC)

...well this is awkward.

It's like the tension in the general area just ratcheted up by one-hundred percent, and he gets to be the lucky bastard to deal with all of it. Dean doesn't really understand why the temperature suddenly went down ten degrees, but it might have something to do with the way that Kurt is holding himself.

"Close?" He half-smiles, half-grimaces at Kurt, knowing full well that the young man expects an adequate reply. What else is he going to say? Dean would be lying if he said that living with Castiel wasn't nice, because it is, but Kurt seems strangely uncomfortable with - or maybe even threatened by? - the angel. "Yeeeah, he raised me from Hell," Dean informs the teenager with a little nod, hoping this will be enough.

Being raised from the dead is pretty fantastic, anyway.

He tries to smile at Kurt again, but with the way this conversation is going already, he knows the kid is going to chew him out for it later. And, true to form, he's strangely okay with that. For now, and for help, Dean turns to look at Cas and hopes he doesn't fuck up too badly.

Edited 2010-12-21 08:31 (UTC)

"Dean is correct," Cas puts in. "We do share a profound bond, in our reality."

After an awkward silence from both Dean and Kurt, he adds, "Though that is in a future which Dean does not yet know, here."

A profound bond.

Kurt's not stupid, you know. He's fluent in Gay. He knows that means they're boyfriends in the future, and that they're probably having all kinds of bonding time in Dean's room now.

"...I see," he says, holding his voice steady. "I'm happy for you, Dean."

Not for Castiel though. No, Castiel's still going to be regarded with suspicion. There are all kinds of things wrong with this story, but he's not going to bring them up now an make things even more awkward. And besides, angels don't exist - those wings were obviously just some type of flashy party trick. And Dean doesn't know anything about the future at all, and yet Cas has Dean wrapped around his little finger.

So no, Castiel is still a suspicious person. And he's still going to give him general looks of disapproval when he thinks Dean isn't looking.

"Really. I am." Kurt might be trying to convince himself of that more than Dean though. He's trying a little too hard to sound polite, so that he doesn't sound bitter and angry.

He is absolutely both very bitter and very angry though. ...But mostly just hurt.

Edited 2010-12-21 22:18 (UTC)

"Wha-? Why?" Dean frowns, furrowing his brow in confusion. Kurt sure as Hell doesn't look happy, and why should he be happy anyway? They're just rooming together. The teenager's voice sounds tight, and tense, and definitely not okay. It's like every time Sammy ever tried to hide something from him. He always knows.

Twisting his lip in dubiousness, he looks back at Castiel as the implications of his words sink in. "...wait. Profound bond?" Dean snorts. This is news to him. Since when did he have a profound bond with anyone, let alone an angel? "...eh. I guess that's a good thing, right?" With a little shrug, Dean resigns himself to the new term.

As long as it doesn't mean he's anyone's bitch.

The conversation ices over again, and he shifts uncomfortably. "...so...uh..." He might as well give it his best shot. Why not bring up the most pressing question on his own mind?

"...you have wings? I mean, they were pretty impressive, we saw them across the room, yeah?" Dean looks to Kurt, straining a smile.

What the Hell is wrong with him?

Edited 2010-12-21 22:51 (UTC)

He has displeased Kurt, Castiel can tell. What he can't tell is how, and he has never been the best judge of human subtleties. Still, Kurt is not Castiel's charge, as Dean is. So it's Dean he answers.

"Yes.

And yes. I am an angel, and on that detail at least, scripture is not incorrect. But they are not usually visible when an angel takes a vessel. Their appearance just now was... strange."

So, that death glare Kurt's been sneaking at Castiel? It's sort of morphed into a look of confusion, and utter disbelief. He isn't exactly a believer in God, or heaven, or angels, or any of that. He still isn't sure what to make of Dean going to hell, but he's pretty sure Cas is insane. Angels don't exist.

He...isn't sure how to explain away the wings exactly. They looked fairly real. But hey, there are people in Wonderland who are apparently countries, or who have magic powers. Winged creatures aren't really such a far stretch. Wings don't necessarily make Cas an angel though. And so, Kurt continues to look at Cas as though he's escaped the nearest mental health facility.

"...Right. It sounds strange." For multiple reasons.

Well shit, this isn't going well at all.

He could cut the tension with a friggin' knife. Kurt looks like he's been electrocuted with a Stepford Wives smile on his face, and Castiel's confused. As usual. Dean's beginning to wonder if the headtilt and the brow furrowing is just characteristic of the guy.

"Aha...ha...okay, boys, let's uh...um," He struggled for a moment, trying to think of something they could talk about. It's always a little upsetting when one friend meets another friend, and they don't appear to like each other. "Okay look, Cas is an angel, Kurt is a- ...a student who can practically sing opera, and I'm a drop-out with six bucks to his name. We got some things in common."

Dean's eyes dart between the two desperately. "Right?" What's a guy gotta do, nudge people into conversation? Normally Kurt is more talkative.

"We all occupy male forms," Cas offers helpfully.

Then he adds, "What is opera?"

That...was not actually very helpful. What even, Castiel. Though he does get a couple of points for recognizing that Kurt is male. That should bring Castiel's total up to, oh, about -32984 or so. Give or take.

"An opera is a type of play," Kurt cuts in, even though Dean brought it up. He doesn't trust Dean to try and explain opera, and witnessing it would probably be painful. "It combines drama with music. It's typically associated with very high, classically trained voices, though there other ranges incorporated as well. It's also extremely high class."

In other words, it's a huge compliment. He'd rather be told he could sing opera than told he's an angel any day. You could say his smile is a little more genuine, but it's honestly only because he's preening a bit.

Edited 2010-12-22 04:46 (UTC)

Oh, come on guys. This isn't all that hard. They shouldn't be holding some sort of contest; at least, Kurt shouldn't be. Why was he so threatened by Castiel? It isn't like the dude was going to hurt them; Cas was pretty much harmless. Shutting his mouth in surprise as Kurt takes over the conversation to inform everyone exactly what an opera is - not that Dean cares, 'cause he'll never go to one - Dean raises an eyebrow.

"...what he said," He wishes he knew more about something they could all relate to, because right now he's especially lost, and-

Oh no.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

He feels it coming on slowly. Like a steady heat, rising inside of him, coiling around in his chest. It's the need again. The third night in a row, and it's been getting worse each time. A little tic develops in Dean's jaw, and his pulse increases. Shit. Green eyes dart to Castiel, predictably, inexorably drawn back to the angel. He has to be on alert. At any moment, Cas might mojo out of the ballroom, and he has to go with him. He can't leave without him. He needs Cas.

"How-?" He clears his throat. He wants those wings back. "..how'd the wings appear?" Dean leans back against the buffet table, jostling the various bells and decorations attached as decoration.

Castiel gets about as far as "I don't kn--" when the bells on the table chime, and he's knocked forward again with the force of the wings emerging.

He catches himself a little better than the first time, but still falls against the nearest solid object. Which happens to be Dean. For a moment he is disoriented, and then he realizes his hands are tangled in the front of Dean's jacket, and he's looking up into very wide, very green eyes from where he's slumped against Dean's chest.

He pulls back hastily, an admonishment about personal space playing in his mind. "Sorry," he says to both Dean and Kurt, voice gruff. "That was... sudden."

The wings are the same as before; that much is consistent. Large and gray, casting soft shadows over his shoulders. And surprisingly light to bear, though he reflects that it makes sense for a physical manifestation of his wings to be similar to those of earthly birds.

He's still a bit unsettled; he'll give himself a few minutes this time before putting them away again.

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+ Now the Jingle Hop has begun [OPEN] +

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