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[venatoris]

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[messenger]

I'm...

[ he wants to say that he's good. he should let dean get some rest. but dean is the one who wanted to help him with this, and— his curiosity is getting the better of him.

he takes a deep breath. ]

I need your help, actually.

[venatoris]

[ He shrugs his jacket off and tosses it towards a chair and misses, fabric hitting the ground in a pile as he walks towards Cas. ]

Sure. Whatever you need.

[messenger]

Uh.

[ this is embarrassing. he is embarrassed. ]

I need you to look at my wings. Assess the injuries.

[venatoris]

[ It might be for Cas, but it just seems logical to Dean. ]

Yeah, course, Cas. Just uh, I guess tell me what I'm looking for? Since I don't know what they're actually supposed to look like.

[messenger]

Well... Um. Anything that looks twisted or melted. Or burnt. You'll understand what I mean when you see it.

[ it's just that all the coverts are layered on top of one another and hiding the ends of the primaries where they were burnt away, down to base of the feathers where they attach to the wing beneath. dean's going to have to dig pretty deep in there to see. ]

[venatoris]

Okay. Uh, why don't you have a seat on the bed? I'll get up behind you.

[ They're big wings, he's gonna have to take his time with this. ]

[messenger]

... Dean. All right.

[ he perches on the bed, looking back at dean over his shoulder.

something else occurs to him. ]

I should take my coat and shirt off.

[ the base of his wings are half-hidden by his clothes. they're just going to make dean's job more difficult. ]

[venatoris]

Good idea.

[ He'll even try to help, slip Cas' coat over his shoulders, though he'll let the angel handle his own button down. ]

[messenger]

[ well, um. the problem is that his clothes are a little stuck.

dean manages to get them as far as he can, castiel unbuttoned all down his front, before castiel realizes what the problem is and rolls his eyes at himself. stupid angel.

a moment later, his clothes are gone safe for his pants— teleported to hang off the back of the chair. ]

[venatoris]

[ He laughs in surprise when Cas' clothes disappear, hands jerking back from the suddenness of it. That's sure one way to do it, though he's a little distracted now that Cas is shirtless and right there, asking Dean to touch him. Touch his wings. ]

Okay, I'm gonna start now. That alright?

[messenger]

Yes, Dean.

[ he looks back over his shoulder again, big blue eyes meeting dean's own with that familiar puppydog look. ]

I trust you.

[venatoris]

Okay. Okay, cool.

[ He flashes a little smile at Cas, but he really doesn't know what he's doing, here. Doesn't mean he's not gonna try, and so he sets about it, very careful at first, moving feathers around to see. It's delicate as hell, and he may or may not tickle Cas, but he's trying his best. ]

[messenger]

[ it does tickle, and his wings twitch while dean moves through his feathers, his toes curling in his shoes as he attempts to fight the strange sensation. he's not sure he likes it— like an itch that needs scratching— and after several moments he groans and flaps them to dislodge dean's fingers. ]

H-harder. Dean, you don't have to be gentle.

[venatoris]

Tryin' not to hurt you.

[ Cas' reaction is kind of funny, and he has an inkling that it does indeed tickle, which is kinda cute. Who knew angels could be ticklish?

But he obeys and digs his fingers in harder, working his way down to the bone best he can, trying to see what he can see. He has zero idea of bird anatomy let alone angel, so he doesn't really know what he's looking for, but for Cas, he's doing his best. ]

[messenger]

You won't hurt me.

[ oh, god. that feels much better. the tension in his body drains out when dean gets his fingers deep in there, a sigh leaving his throat as his head tilts back. it's relieving, to finally have that itch scratched— though he's too embarrassed to say so out loud.

eventually, dean will find the roots of castiel's long and once-beautiful primaries— burnt off near the root. some are loose, and fall free as he's exploring. ]

[venatoris]

Well, like I said, I dunno what I'm looking for. But there's definitely some singing going on here.

[ It's said as he roots around, digging his way through Cas' singed feathers, careful as some slip through his fingers and fall, others coming off in his hands as he moves. ]

Sorry, you gotta tell me if it hurts-

[messenger]

Mhm—

[ he figured as much. as dean moves through his feathers, he groans with relief. they itched where they were attached, and it's a relief to have them finally knocked loose. more flutter to fall down at his feet. ]

It doesn't— It doesn't. Don't stop.

[venatoris]

Okay. But it'd help if you told me what I'm actually supposed to do beyond picking through your wings.

[ Kentucky fried as they are. ]

Does it itch? [ Experimentally, he drags his nails over...bone? Are wings bone? Cartilage? Help, Cas. ]

[messenger]

They itch very much.

[ muscle, bone, and cartilage. so all of the above? it seems like now that dean's finally gotten his fingers in there, cas is actually responding verbally, though. mostly because he's too distracted now to be embarrassed by it, or to feel guilty about asking dean for help in the first place.

his head tilts up, and he looks at dean over his shoulder through a slitted eye. ]

They need to be groomed. An angel doesn't usually take a vessel for so long.

[venatoris]

[ An itch is easy to handle, that he can manage. It's a simple scratching, drag his nails over, careful but firm. ]

Groomed. Uh, okay. Lemme - find my comb? Or do you need a hairbrush? Or one of those dog ones, with the metal points?

[messenger]

[ the reaction his body had to touching dean's soul was embarrassing, but what happens this time is worse— because he feels the arousal come on slow, and does nothing to stop it besides bite his lip and stretch his wings. dean must feel the strong, wiry muscle move beneath his fingers then, between the layers of feathers. ]

I think a wide-toothed brush would be okay for the lesser coverts, but the rest you'll have to do with your hands.

[ uh. ]

I mean, you don't have to. You don't have to do anything. I can handle it myself.

[venatoris]

[ He shakes his head, not that it's entirely visible.

He continues, digging his fingers in, scratching, gentle, carefully pulling out the feathers that come off under his hands, wincing as he does. God he hopes Cas isn't lying. That'd be a breach of trust. ]

No, I don't mind. I don't mind at all. Um...I probably have a pick? I think Sam uses one on those Loreal locks of his.

[ He keeps going because this is nice, he and Cas don't get a lot of alone moments like this. And it feels good to be trusted. To be believed he won't hurt someone, when all he's capable of doing is causing pain. ]

[messenger]

[ loreal...? ]

A pick? [ it must be a kind of brush, he assumes. ] If that's what you'd rather use. But your fingers are just fine for the job.

[ it's really all they should need, to knock all the loose feathers free. honestly, he could probably do that part on his own, but... ]

That's, uh, only the first part, though.

[venatoris]

[ the fancy shampoo, because dean definitely uses a ten in one. ]

Okay. What's the next part?

[ He's not stopping with his fingers though, carefully going through and picking out those that have broken off or are hanging on by only a thread, dragging his nails carefully over his wings in the process. ]

Just so I can kinda mentally prepare.

[messenger]

[ a shudder rolls through him at the sensation of dean's nails against the sensitive, vulnerable skin of his wings. his cock gives a humiliating twitch, but he's too distracted to do more than turn pink in the face over the way it catches against the inside of his boxers. ]

They need to be washed.

[ yes, dean might need the mental preparation for this. ]

We'll have to use the shower.