Prompt for thalia-the-frog, who requested something fluffy involving fairs and balloon flowers.

“You literally could not have chosen a more cliché destination if you’ve tried.”

Castiel stopped the car and turned to Meg with a knowing smile. “Come on,” he said, amused. “You love fairs.”

“I loved fairs when we were like fourteen,” she complained. “That was fifteen years ago, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Well, what’s the point of visiting your hometown if you don’t get to do the things you did fifteen years ago?” Castiel pointed out. Meg rolled his eyes at him.

It was true, though, than we she rolled back in town to spend the summer with her ill father, she didn’t expect to find her best friend from high school, Castiel Novak, was still around. She always pictured that if any of them was leaving and making it big out there, it was going to be him.

But he’d stayed, and was now a nurse at the local hospital, while Meg was a renowned chef in New York. A couple of years ago, she’d even been the runner-up on one of those reality TV contests, and that gave her restaurant the boost it needed.

But as busy as she was, when her brother Tom had called and said their father was sick, she’d packed her bags and flown back. Then she had taken a bus or two. Then she’d walked for a couple of miles because Tom couldn’t pick her up at the station. The town was really small and isolated, and Meg had hated it with a passion when she lived there.

Looking back, she realized that not all had been bad. She’d had her boys back then.

“Hey, reality star!” Dean greeted her when she and Cas approached the fair’s entrance.

“It’s good to see you, Meg,” Sam, Dean’s younger brother, gave her a quick hug.

“Good to see you too,” Meg grinned. “I’m glad you’re still abnormally tall.”

Dean burst out laughing while Sam protested he wasn’t that tall, which, at almost six feet and a half, was a blatant lie.

Castiel bought tickets for everyone. His enthusiasm at having the old gang together again was contagious, and Meg couldn’t stay mad at him. Especially not when they had a whole night of shooting games (Sam and Dean always won those), shiny attractions (“Hey, remember when you went through that Goth phase and made us go to the Haunted House like five times in a week?”), and junk food (which Meg knew had a lot of things that weren’t exactly eatable, but she still ate as many candy apples as Dean).

They were sitting on bench waiting for the fireworks when Castiel spotted the balloon stand and ran to it like a kid who had just seen the shopping mall’s Santa.

“Okay, no more sugar for him,” Meg said, shaking her head, amused.

“He’s so excited you’re here,” Sam told her.

“Yeah, he’s probably remembering the massive crush he had on you when we were in high school,” Dean joked, and took a chunk out of his apple.

“Shut up, he didn’t have a crush on me,” Meg protested. She didn’t know why, but the fact that Dean brought that up made her uncomfortable enough to look away and hope to hell she wasn’t blushing.

“Are you kidding me? You were all he talked about,” Dean said, still chewing on his apple like a caveman. “Meg this, Meg that. It was maddening, wasn’t it, Sammy?”

“And don’t get us started when he found out you were on that reality show,” Sam nodded. “He dragged us to watch it every single week, and cheered you on like you could hear him.”

“When you didn’t win, he was so angry,” Dean chuckled. “I thought he was going to throw the TV out of the window.”

Meg tried to laugh it off and say they were probably exaggerating for comedic proposes, but then Castiel returned with a balloon flower in his hand.

“Here,” he said, giving it to Meg. “You used to love this, didn’t you?”

Meg was about to use the “Yeah, when we were fourteen” argument again, but then she saw Castiel’s blue eyes all lit up, and remembered that maybe, just maybe, she’d had a tiny bit crush on Castiel back then too.

“Thanks, Clarence,” she smiled, accepting the gift. “I still love them.”

Prompt for doctormongoose, who asked for more Megstiel Hunters AU. We get backstories in this one, woah!

“Stop whining, will you?”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Castiel replies. “You’re not the one who’s barely holding their intestines in.”

“Too graphic,” Meg grimaces as she helps him out of the car. “Too fucking graphic, Clarence.”

“You cover yourself in blood and guts for a living,” Castiel reminds her, amused.

“That doesn’t mean I like to hear about it in broad daylight,” Meg complains, and Castiel chuckles.

She leads him into a two-story house and helps him climb up the porch steps. The door creaks when she introduces the key, and the light bulbs let out some sparkles when she turns on the lights.

“Well, here we are,” she says, accompanying him to the couch. “Home sweet home.”

Castiel coughs when he falls on the dusty couch. “How long have you been gone?”

“A couple of months?” Meg calculates, and picks up the pile of mail accumulated in her rug. “Yes, a couple of months. I’m gonna have to do some-grocery shopping; whatever’s left in the fridge is probably covered in mold.”

“Now who’s the one that’s being too graphic?” Castiel jokes. Meg passes him the remote and kisses him in the forehead.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Couldn’t if I try,” Castiel says. He’s not sure Meg heard him, because he the door clicks behind her.

He surfs through the channels for a while, but there’s really nothing to watch. He wishes there would. It’d give him less time to think.

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