In which Bobby is kind of a dick, Sam skips out on dish duty, Castiel attempts to acquire a hobby, Dean does inappropriate things with jam, and Chuck’s not sure what story he’s writing anymore.

Dean saves the world the same way he entered it: buck naked.

Castiel experiences a sad case of genre blindness.

There was no room at the inn.

Correction: there was one room. It was even a double. But with the Winchesters traveling convoy-style now, four walls and two side-by-side beds were no longer the luxurious accommodations they once had been.

Castiel has seen Dean Winchester laid bare.

The one where John and Rodney are Obama campaign phone bank workers.

He’d always thought the hard part would be saying it. But it’s not. It’s figuring out what to say next.

He is surrounded by an indeterminate number of sexy nurses. “Oh, Barney,” they coo, they moan, they whisper against his skin.

Teyla got sick on the plane. “There goes my one shot at the Mile High Club,” Rodney muttered to himself, helping to hold Teyla steady as she retched into the tiny lavatory at the back of the aircraft, the flight attendant outside smiling rigidly as she us

“You know the Ancients loved to leave warning labels. Especially the ones that say, ‘Caution—may cause everyone to spontaneously burst into song.’”

John doesn’t like to share.

He had seen something that he was not likely to forget for a long, long time.

“Ooops,” said Rodney, in stereo. “Muj ty boze, my worst nightmare has come to pass,” said Radek.

John has gotten used to the idea of other universes and alternate selves.

“Don’t be silly,” John says. “You’re Bob and I’m Bing; now get in the car and let’s go find ourselves a Dorothy.”

Sometimes Rodney’s brain scares him.

He held his hand

When an AMNESIC Raawdney is sold to Jon as a slave(!1!), he is TERRIFED of Being RAPED(!) by this MysteriouS, DangerouS, DarK stranger!1! Will there be a happy ending for my OTP??? Will John earn Rodeney’s trust? Will Rawdeney regain his memories?

‘John and Rodney have to explain some wacky Earth custom to Ronon.’

Teyla’s hand is on his back, strength radiating from each of the five digits like heat from an electric stove. Rodney thinks that if he could turn around he would see her fingertips glowing orange like a quintet of car cigarette lighters. “This is idi