[ 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?
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. ]
…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. ]
[ 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. ]
... Thank you for saying so, Dean. You're important to me, too.
[ not that he can return the favor. he wishes that he could. it would be only right.
naturally, though, he can't help the pang of anxiety that shoots through him when dean drops his hands, his subconscious naturally picking up the fact that dean's lack of preoccupation means he's more likely to notice other things. things he doesn't want and don't need to be noticed. ]
I'm fine. You're— you're doing a very good job. Should we— The— the shower?
[ yes, they should definitely the shower. this is not going to help his situation at all. but. the shower.
unfortunately, panicking angels never seem to make very good decisions, do they? ]
[ he shoots dean a baleful look over his shoulder, bracing himself for whatever comes next. ]
Okay.
[ he needs to GROOM you it's not the same if he doesn't GROOM you, dean. and they're already even for that, anyway. you let him fist your soul.
castiel nods distractedly, awkwardly moving around dean so his back is to him the entire time. thankfully it's not so noticeable, at this point, as to be totally obvious what he's going on about. it's only in the bathroom, when cas is taking off his pants, that he has to be completely and totally alert about where his front is facing— and not too obvious when he frowns disapprovingly down at his peanits. why are you doing this to him, body?? why????? hasn't he treated you with patience and respect? (no.) ]
[ Dean's wondering if he should strip too, and watching Cas do it makes him second guess every single aspect of his life, cause that's Cas, and he's naked, and thank God he's facing away because Dean can't stop staring at his ass.
It's fine.
He chews his lower lip and eventually decides sopping wet jeans and a shirt isn't worth it and strips down, naked and mercifully not hard (yet). He busies himself with messing with the water, turning it on and testing the temperature until it's warm enough. ]
probably not, no. but he has to steel himself and get it over with, because if he can't even survive a hell of his own making, then what kind of angel is he? of course, when dean gets to stripping it only gets worse. he may not be watching him (much as he would like to be) and yes he's seen dean naked before (he's spent much of his time watching over him) but the sound of his clothes being divested transports all sorts of images into his mind.
his penis couldn't possibly get any harder, but somehow it does— pearling at the tip with a torturous bead of preejaculate.
castiel folds his wings in tight so he can tuck into the shower, but his wings are still too big to avoid catching one on the flimsy shower curtain— a strangled sound leaves him as his wing flaps, desperately, and his face turns another brilliant shade of red. ]
[ Cas getting caught in the shower curtain is funny as hell, but he's also letting water get all over the place and he hurries over, reaching to untangle him - though ultimately, the shower curtain is just going to have to go because it's in the way. Hell with the water. ]
[ he doesn't give a crap about destruction of property. however. with the curtain ripped away, he has even less to hide behind.
and pressing his wings close against his back won't help hide his front at all. he ducks under the spray, back tuned to dean, and hopes like hell that he doesn't look at him too closely. ]
[ Lucky for Cas, Dean isn't looking down there between his legs, he's just trying to create a containment zone so they don't end up leaving a complete disaster in the room.
All the towels but two get thrown on the floor before Dean's finally getting in behind him, hand on Cas' upper back to keep himself steady so he doesn't slip. ]
[ castiel is very lucky, but he doesn't feel like he is. dean could see at any moment. and then there's dean's hand on his back, warm and inexplicable, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. already red in the face, the color darkens to that of a tomato. even his ears are hot.
[ his wings are shivering and twitching like the wings of an anxious bird, but he obediently passes the shampoo to dean. it shouldn't take long, with half his feathers gone. looks like at least one good thing's come of that. ]
[ It's very cockatoo of him, and he's glad he's standing behind Cas, because it hides the smile on his face. He's not laughing AT him, just. This is kinda crazy. Cas has never shown him his wings like this before. ]
Thanks. Hold still.
[ While he squirts a handful and lathers up, reaching to start at the top, gentle scrubbing, careful and gently, lightly digging his nails and works his way down. ]
[ he's already a live wire, and dean's hands don't help. he's embarrassingly, mortifying hard, and his wings shudder when he touches him— hugs his fingers deep. his nails glance skin, and castiel gasps, reaching to brace himself against the wall. ]
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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?
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[ 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.
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uh. what? ]
I think anything would be fine. What shampoo do you use?
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[ cas ]
Uh, nothing fancy. It's one of those all in one body wash, shampoo, conditioner, whatever.
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[ if it's all in one, it'll probably be suitable for his wings too, right? ]
We should probably...
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[ ...sure. probably. ]
Oh, now? Or do you want me to finish picking these feathers out?
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[ he sounds a little dazed, actually— but maybe that's the boner. this is becoming a difficult situation. ]
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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.
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[ 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. ]
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…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?
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[ 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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[ He lets his fingers trace over his wings, hands falling when Cas speaks. ]
Huh? Yeah, I'm good. Are you?
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[ not that he can return the favor. he wishes that he could. it would be only right.
naturally, though, he can't help the pang of anxiety that shoots through him when dean drops his hands, his subconscious naturally picking up the fact that dean's lack of preoccupation means he's more likely to notice other things. things he doesn't want and don't need to be noticed. ]
I'm fine. You're— you're doing a very good job. Should we— The— the shower?
[ yes, they should definitely the shower. this is not going to help his situation at all. but. the shower.
unfortunately, panicking angels never seem to make very good decisions, do they? ]
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Yeah, okay - shower time.
[ Time to get naked with his best friend, that isn't weird, right? Not weird at all. ]
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Okay.
[ he needs to GROOM you it's not the same if he doesn't GROOM you, dean. and they're already even for that, anyway. you let him fist your soul.
castiel nods distractedly, awkwardly moving around dean so his back is to him the entire time. thankfully it's not so noticeable, at this point, as to be totally obvious what he's going on about. it's only in the bathroom, when cas is taking off his pants, that he has to be completely and totally alert about where his front is facing— and not too obvious when he frowns disapprovingly down at his peanits. why are you doing this to him, body?? why????? hasn't he treated you with patience and respect? (no.) ]
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It's fine.
He chews his lower lip and eventually decides sopping wet jeans and a shirt isn't worth it and strips down, naked and mercifully not hard (yet). He busies himself with messing with the water, turning it on and testing the temperature until it's warm enough. ]
Okay. Let me know when you're ready.
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probably not, no. but he has to steel himself and get it over with, because if he can't even survive a hell of his own making, then what kind of angel is he? of course, when dean gets to stripping it only gets worse. he may not be watching him (much as he would like to be) and yes he's seen dean naked before (he's spent much of his time watching over him) but the sound of his clothes being divested transports all sorts of images into his mind.
his penis couldn't possibly get any harder, but somehow it does— pearling at the tip with a torturous bead of preejaculate.
castiel folds his wings in tight so he can tuck into the shower, but his wings are still too big to avoid catching one on the flimsy shower curtain— a strangled sound leaves him as his wing flaps, desperately, and his face turns another brilliant shade of red. ]
Uh— Hold on, I just—
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[ Cas getting caught in the shower curtain is funny as hell, but he's also letting water get all over the place and he hurries over, reaching to untangle him - though ultimately, the shower curtain is just going to have to go because it's in the way. Hell with the water. ]
Lemme just -
[ Rip it down. ]
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[ he doesn't give a crap about destruction of property. however. with the curtain ripped away, he has even less to hide behind.
and pressing his wings close against his back won't help hide his front at all. he ducks under the spray, back tuned to dean, and hopes like hell that he doesn't look at him too closely. ]
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[ Lucky for Cas, Dean isn't looking down there between his legs, he's just trying to create a containment zone so they don't end up leaving a complete disaster in the room.
All the towels but two get thrown on the floor before Dean's finally getting in behind him, hand on Cas' upper back to keep himself steady so he doesn't slip. ]
Okay. Time to wash some angel wings.
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how embarrassing. ]
Uhm. Yes.
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Okay. Let's get you cleaned up. Pass me the shampoo.
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Here.
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Thanks. Hold still.
[ While he squirts a handful and lathers up, reaching to start at the top, gentle scrubbing, careful and gently, lightly digging his nails and works his way down. ]
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Oh!
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it got smaller and smaller
cas' dick
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