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Dean flopped back on the couch cushions, panting but smiling. “Dude, I said I was sorry, like, twenty times.”
"You didn’t really mean it for the first nineteen." Cas climbed off the hunter and settled back on the other side of the sofa. He pulled his own foot up into his lap to reexamine the words Dean had tormentingly written across his soles: i am on his right, ticklish on his left. He rolled his eyes at the little hearts dotting the lowercase i’s. “And I’m still not certain the twentieth was completely sincere.”
Dean didn’t offer any further commentary, but pushed himself up off the couch, rubbing a bit at his sides and hips. He took a few steps toward the doorway out of the bunker library before looking back toward the ex-angel. “Well?”
Cas looked up and tilted his head when Dean didn’t elaborate right away.
"Are you coming?" The hunter’s eyes fell to the upturned soles resting in Castiel’s lap. He briefly thought Cas should take up yoga or something with the way he was already kind of doing that lotus thing. "You said you needed to get rid of that."
"Oh." Cas rubbed a thumb over the inked lines. "Yes. You had expressed interest in… ‘helping,’" he said, ending the sentence with a suspicious furrow in his brow.
”Yeah, the bathroom’s this way.”
"I know where the bathroom is, Dean."
"…And that’s where the soap lives, come on."
Cas frowned. “Soap is inanimate,” he mumbled as he unfolded his legs and got up.
—-
Dean leaned on the sink against the cushion of Castiel’s discarded hoodie, arms folded across his chest and a crooked smirk on his lips.
Cas was sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bathtub, his right ankle resting up on the opposite knee, pants rolled up to his calves. He rubbed gingerly at the penned i am on his sole with a damp washcloth but wasn’t making much progress. The hunter watched with amusement as Cas pulled his lower lip into his teeth while he circled one washcloth-wrapped finger over his arch.
"Really, this’ll go quicker if you let me help you," Dean offered again, tilting forward to shift his weight off the edge of the sink. He took a step sideways and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet that faced the tub.
Cas didn’t look up from his careful ministrations. “Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered with a quirk at the corner of his lips.
"Then think of it in terms of it being my fault you got into this situation, and therefore it’s my duty to help you out of it," Dean answered with a charming smile.
The fallen angel cast him a sideways look of mock exasperation and reached for the bar of soap. “Forgive me if I distrust the purity of your intentions.”
It only took Dean half a second to decide to capitalize on the other man’s brief distraction. He pounced forward and grabbed Castiel’s raised ankle, hauling it promptly back with him to his seat. Cas yelped in surprise and flailed for balance on his narrow perch. One hand found purchase on the opposite lip of the tub just in time to keep him from falling backwards into it. “Dean!”
Said hunter was reaching with his free hand to turn on the faucet at the sink. He whipped the hand towel from its hook on the wall and thrust it under the flow of water before bringing it to his lap and squeezing it over Cas’ foot, apparently unconcerned about the minor deluge on his own jeans.
"Dean, wha- AH!" Cas jerked at the rub of the soap over his sole. He didn’t recall it feeling quite so uncomfortable when he’d first done it himself a few moments earlier. And now Dean was working up a light lather with his palm. Cas scrabbled to push himself upright off the back of the tub and simultaneously pull back on his leg. "No no no no no-"
"Watch it, don’t want you to fall," Dean grinned. He kept a firm grasp on Castiel’s ankle and twisted sideways to drop the soap back in its dish on the sink, snaking his arm around the communal toothbrush holder so as not to knock it over, then shifted his grip to take Cas’ foot in both hands.
"Then stop doing tha-AT! Dean, ple- please dohohohon’t! NO!”
Castiel’s peal of laughter echoed around the tiled room as he fought for equilibrium. Dean’s thumbs scrubbed over the hearted blue i under the ball of his foot, only half-interested in actually removing the ink. Cas finally teetered upright, giggling and reaching imploringly toward his captive foot.
"We’re just trying to get this pesky writing off, Cas. Nothing to freak out about, you’ll be squeaky clean soon enough. Geez, who would do such a heartless thing, vandalizing someone else’s body…"
"NYAAHAhahahahahahaha!" Cas jolted and collapsed forward onto his thighs as a row of blunt fingernails raked and spidered up and down his arch, the motion nearly frictionless over his soap-slicked skin. "I ca- I hehehehe cahahan’t- AHahahahahahaha!"
"Can’t what? Don’t worry, you don’t have to help; I got this."
“Deeheheheeean!”
"S’okay - this one’s nearly done." The hunter’s soothing tone did absolutely nothing to counteract the viciousness of his fingers. "Just have the last part of the m here…”
A particularly rough scribble at the bottom of his arch drove Cas into a final squeal before Dean sat back and studied the soapy sole, nodding thoughtfully as though pleased with the outcome. Cas panted into his knees for a moment before looking up over flushed cheeks.
Dean flashed a brilliant grin. “One down, one to go.”
Cas squeaked and wrenched backwards to evade what was sure to follow. The good news was that the residue of soap helped him slip the hunter’s grasp; the bad news came in the form of momentum. This time he wasn’t quick enough to catch his fall, and he thunked back into the tub with a grunt.
Dean started forward, teasing momentarily replaced with concern. “You okay?”
"I… I think I may have sprained something. There may be danger of a concussion as well."
The dismayed puppy-dog eyes staring back at him from the tub almost convinced Dean to reconsider. Almost. “Sometimes you’re an awful liar, Cas.”
The blue eyes narrowed, and Castiel struggled to unfold himself from the pinched confines of the bathtub. But Dean hopped up and leaned heavily on his knees where they bent over the rim.
"Y’know, I remember this one time you got on my case for lying. You were pretty adamant about the, uh, atonement process. So the same standard has to apply here - otherwise that’d be hypocrisy, don’t you think? That wouldn’t look very good on you.”
Cas gauged his chances of a successful escape. It didn’t look promising. He had no leverage to speak of in his compacted position, and the hunter’s weight pinning his legs meant he couldn’t move to gain any, either. Between that and the wolfish grin gleaming down at him, he wasn’t sure he’d ever missed his Grace more than in this very moment.
“Judge not, that you be not judged…?” he attempted.
"You’re cute when you get biblical."
In one swift motion, Dean turned and scooped the ex-angel’s ankles into a headlock while pushing himself up to standing, bodily dragging Castiel up by his legs. Cas yelped and scrabbled for a handhold as he slid down along the smooth curve of the bathtub and partially up the other side, with only his shoulders and head resting on the tub floor, feet kicking in the crook of Dean’s elbow.
"Please don’t do this, plehehease…" Cas was already giggling and trying to work his legs out of Dean’s grip. The hunter looked down over his shoulder at him.
"What, this?" His fingers skittered over Cas’ toes.
"Yes!" Cas squeaked. "I mean, no! Wait-" He squinted confusedly.
"You’d better make up your mind," Dean chuckled. He reached toward the sink and began the same preparation with the wet towel and soap on Castiel’s wriggling left foot, which was helpfully labeled ticklish in scrawling letters that tracked from the top of his arch down to the bottom of his heel. Dean paused when he replaced the soap in its dish, eyeing the little holder next to it. He hesitated for all of two seconds before figuring he could buy a new one later, and plucked his toothbrush out from it.
He shifted a little to the side and looked down past his arm to catch Cas’ eye. The toothbrush flipped playfully in his fingers as he held it up for the other to see.
Castiel’s eyes went wide. “No! Dean, pleasepleasepleasepleHEEEEEASE!”
Screeching cackles rebounded in the enclosed space. Dean clenched his arm tighter around the thrashing ankles as he scoured merrily over the oh-so-accurate word written down Cas’ lathered sole. Castiel shrieked and thumped against the bathtub, twisting like a fish on a line.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOOOOO! DEEEEHEEHEEHEEEEE- NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEEEEHEHEHEHEEEASE!”
The laughter finally lost its deafening edge and devolved into frenetic giggling as Dean worked the toothbrush down over the tougher skin of Cas’ heel. The soap was foaming up blue from the ink, and the hunter paused to swipe his fingers through the suds to see how the lettering was faring. That produced a surprised squeak from below, and he grinned down at the graceless angel, who was attempting to catch his breath and force the smile off his face in favor of a theatrical glare.
The hunter snorted a laugh and glanced back at his target sole, which was glowing a bit pink beneath the slowly drying bubbles. The writing had faded almost completely, and at the rate Castiel tended to go barefoot around the bunker, he was willing to bet the rest would wear off in the next day or so.
"Looks like there’s just one more spot to go," Dean said with a smirk, preemptively tightening his arm around Cas’ ankles.
The ex-angel’s brow wrinkled questioningly. “But haven’t you already gotten everythiiiIIIIING-“
The soapy brush touched down unexpectedly on the ball of Castiel’s foot and started buffing in tiny circles, light and quick and entirely unanticipated. Cas gasped and spiraled into panicked giggles. He arched against the wall of the tub, squealing when the sensation darted from one foot to the other. “Deeeheeehehehehean! There’s nohoho writing up thehehehere!”
"I know," Dean replied cheerily.
Cas nearly choked on his laughter when the bristles jumped up to skim across his scrunched toes. He curled them tighter, but the screamingly unbearable brushing still tormented the tips of his toes and the little crevices between, driving him from merely gasping to utterly breathless. A high-pitched wheezing overtook his giggles, and he pounded frantically on the side of the bathtub, desperate to signal his need to breathe.
Dean noticed, thank his absent Father, and the toothbrush slowed and dropped away from Cas’ toes. It shifted to drawing lazy ovals on his soles, which kept him giggling intermittently but allowed him to pump his chest for much-needed air.
"Are you sorry?"
Cas drew in a ragged breath, the exhale fluttering with the edge of a giggle. “…What?”
"For lying."
"Wh- I hardly think I’m the one who has something to apologi- AAAGH, NO, OKAHAHAY! Okay, yes, I’m sorryheehee!”
Dean smirked and tossed the sudsy toothbrush into the sink. “Apology accepted.” He carefully lowered the captive ankles, allowing Castiel to scoot up into a sitting position in the tub once again.
Cas let his head thump back against the cool tiled wall, more concerned with recovering the proper use of his lungs than trying to move. Dean pulled a fresh fluffy towel off the nearby rack and knelt to wrap it around Cas’ feet where they hovered listlessly above the floor, gently wiping the soap and dampness from his skin. Castiel eyed the hunter warily when Dean lifted one of his heels in his palm, but Dean just smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his instep. Cas’ toes twitched in halfhearted objection, though he hummed faintly at the mirrored kiss on the other foot.
"I hope you know that doesn’t even begin to negate anything," Cas murmured, allowing his eyelids to slide closed as his breathing settled.
"Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you."
"You most certainly will." Cas cracked one eye open. "In one way or another."