Fandom(s): Supernatural (Star Trek fusion)
Summary: Dean stumbles ass-backwards into everything in his life, and it's usually Sam's fault.
Notes/Acknowledgments: Gift for beckaandzac for spn_j2_xmas. Space AU! And Sam and Dean and pre-series and hopeful endings! Betad by waterofthemoon. I thank gigglingkat and unperfectwolf for giving me a crash-course on Trek things, because as of three hours ago all my Trek knowledge was what I saw in the reboot.
And then they ended up at Starfleet Academy.
Dean wants it put on Sam's permanent record thing, or whatever it is, that it's his fault. Everything is his fault. The screaming, the fist fights, all three people he threw up on in that fucking hack job they call a shuttle. All of it.
Dean hates space. Hates it. He hates space, and spaceships, and flying, and he thinks everyone who thinks floating in the middle of nothing for years and years at a time is any kind of a vaguely good idea is out of their fucking skull.
So, of course, Sam decided he wanted to go be one of those assmonkeys. Because he's a fucking moron. And because Dean is an even bigger moron, he had to go and sign up, too. Someone needs to be there with Sam, or otherwise, Sam will do something like stick his fucking head out a non-operational vanity window in the middle of space and kill everyone on the ship.
Okay, so maybe not that. But he would do something without Dean there.
Dean shares something bigger than a room with Sam and two other... dude-shaped things. Cas is half Vulcan and half something that doesn't sleep or blink or eat. Rumor has it, his mother was actually a robot, but Dean really doesn't want to think too hard about whether that's even possible. The fourth one doesn't resemble a human at all, and Dean doesn't think it's really got anything like humans have, but it doesn't seem to actively hate him.
Which, really, is more than Dean can say for the rest of... pretty much everyone.
All in all, it isn't really that bad. If you don't count the whole floating in the middle of empty nothingness thing or the part where they will all die a horrible, painful, messy death of some kind because some fucking moron can't aim for shit and blows a hole in the side of something and then makes them all fucking implode.
There are times when Dean hates everything about Sam.
And then there are times when Dean is sitting with Cas and actually trying to understand his absolute fucking insistence that there are some times when fucking horrific shit is going to happen, and no one can help it, so they just have to fucking accept it. Dean is of the belief that if you actually think that, you do not belong in a fucking uniform because you're just going to get everyone killed.
Which he tells Cas.
He's not sure what happens next, but when he wakes up in the sick bay, Sam's got him shoved into the bar of his own bed and is using him as a table for his stupid fucking medical books. But before Dean can complain or kick the books off or anything like that, Sam hands him a cup of coffee.
Actual, honest, grown-from-a-bean-in-dirt coffee. Burnt smell and too much sugar because Sam thinks one scoop means one heaping scoop that looks like a small mountain. None of that overly-perfected, "This is how they say coffee is supposed to taste, Dean," crap from the replicator that no one human actually likes.
Dean tells Sam that he would kiss him if he thought Sam could keep it in his skirt long enough not to get them dumped out an airlock for traumatizing his boss-to-be. Sam says that Castiel—because Sam's just gotta use his full name like a fucking show-off just because he's one of, like, three non-linguists in the place who can pronounce it right—is going to go not-sleep somewhere else for the night. As an apology for basically breaking Dean's entire day in half and showing some kind of human-like emotion or something.
But mostly, Dean would like Sam to stop being such a Sam for about five minutes so Dean can actually take a fucking breath and figure out why this hypothetical warp drive they won't let him touch in real life is absolutely refusing to bend to his clearly fucking superior whims and do what it's fucking supposed to do.
And then, somehow, Dean's nice, spiffy red shirt accidentally gets swapped for a bright and shiny yellow one.
Dean wasn't trying to do anything except to prove to Cas that he was fucking right and Cas was wrong, and that fucking pinching him like a little girl was a totally bitch move. Dean is not good at letting things go, okay? He is aware of this. If he were, he would never have stepped foot in this stupid fucking academy.
But he isn't, and he did, and his ability to completely fuck everything up from the inside out and keep going just out of pure fucking spite and stubbornness apparently impressed some fucking stupid-ass people. Dean does not want to be a fucking captain. He doesn't need to tell six thousand people what to do. He tells Sam what to do, and on the odd occasions when Sam grows a brain cell and actually fucking listens to him, that's enough.
He is a Science Tool. That is what he signed up for, that's why he's here, and that's what he wants to do. Dean keeps Sam safe. That is his job. Period. He is an engineer because if Sam's gonna tantrum himself all the way to another motherfucking galaxy, Dean's going to make sure he does it with a warp drive that isn't going to shit its pants halfway to the middle of nowhere.
But apparently, and this is a little-known fact, you cannot actually say no to being a captain. And that doesn't mean that no one tries. It means that Dean said no, and they told him to pick a ship. He said he wasn't going to be a captain and they couldn't make him, and they said he could have this hunk of junk, that hunk of junk, or that other hunk of junk, and then Dean had the brief, intense feeling of wanting to rip their body parts off and eat them because Baby is not junk.
She is gorgeous, beautiful, perfection. She's survived more battles than the brand new shiny ships with their stupid holographic windows that make no sense except to drain energy away from things that need it just to look fucking pretty for the videos. Dean snatches her up because he will rip the kneecaps off of anyone who tries to take her and doesn't understand her beauty.
At least he gets to pick his own crew. Sam is going to shit an entire mansion of bricks when Dean shows him his brand new, state of the art— okay, kind of old and fucking weird-looking— sick bay that's all his. And Dean knows for a fact that he's only getting Cas because Cas fucking weirds people out , but the non-Vulcan half of him is some kind of non-humanoid race, and that means there is no such thing as a better linguist out there because he has five—count them, five—different sets of vocal chords. Which means he can speak languages than no humanoid creature can actually physically pronounce without a comm.
And then they're standing on the flight deck, and Dean is staring out at the two dozen or so people he picked out and the something-thousand he told Sam to pick for him, and it strikes him that holy fuck, someone put him in charge of something. He should probably start acting like he has any fucking idea what he's doing.
"People," he yells. He's never really gotten the hang of not yelling into the communicators. "And... things that don't like to be called 'people.' I give you our ship, the Babylonia. And by 'our,' I mean she's mine, and by 'Babylonia,' I mean her name is Baby, and you will address her as such."
It isn't until Sam reminds him that he needs to dismiss them before they're actually allowed to leave that Dean remembers that he has power people have to listen to now.
"Go get your shit together," he tells them unceremoniously. "We've got work to do."