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[ 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.

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. ]

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. ]

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-

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.

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. ]

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.

[ 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?

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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.

[ 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.

[ He pauses for a moment before he resumes, and it's to everyone's benefit Cas cannot see his face. ]

Oh. Okay, cool. Do you need like, special shampoo? Arm and hammer? Deodorizer? Pineapple scented?

[ He's only half joking. ]

[ what oh what would he find there if he could? huh, dean?

castiel frowns down at himself where, mercifully, dean can't see, because there's absolutely a tent in his trousers and his nipples are very hard. it's a little miserable. how is he supposed to hide this? ]

Uh—

[ what? ]

... Why would I need pineapple scented soap for my feathers?

[ For the moment it's easy at least, since Dean's behind him picking little tufts of feathers free, letting them float down. ]

You said wash. Do you want like, soap? Or real shampoo? I dunno what you wash an angel with.

[ with your whole entire body. just rub it up against his.

uh. what? ]

I think anything would be fine. What shampoo do you use?

[ cas ]

Uh, nothing fancy. It's one of those all in one body wash, shampoo, conditioner, whatever.

Then that seems best.

[ if it's all in one, it'll probably be suitable for his wings too, right? ]

We should probably...

[ ...sure. probably. ]

Oh, now? Or do you want me to finish picking these feathers out?

Oh, you aren't done?

[ he sounds a little dazed, actually— but maybe that's the boner. this is becoming a difficult situation. ]

No. Got some more feather ruffling to do. I got you.

[ And he does, of course he does - Cas is special, his best friend. Dean should've been taking care of him better long before this, way before their lives got to this point. ]

Just relax.

Thank you, Dean.

[ he is grateful, even if he's distracted. ]

I'm trying.

[ but it's hard

and by "it" haha, well. let's just say, his peanits. ]

…Anytime, Cas. Really. I wish you’d asked me sooner.

[ he’s taking his time with his, smoothing healthy feathers down while broken and brittle ones dust the mattress around them. Once or twice he sneezes - do angels have dander? - but persists, cleaning Cas up best he can. ]

Feel better?

You've had other responsibilities, Dean.

[ this isn't something that he should have to worry about, though he isn't strong-willed enough to tell him they can stop here, or even to lie and say that it's enough. he's already given in to his own desires, selfishly, weak despite himself. ]

... I do.

[ it's not a lie. dean's scratched that particular itch.

too bad his body seems to want more. he tries to adjust himself, shifting in place. turning halfway the second time dean sneezes. ]

Are you all right?

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