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The Bunker’s bathtub was large, but apparently not large enough to fit a seraph’s wings – seraph included.
Castiel understood, it wasn’t technically supposed to be easy to wash his wings, but then again, they were never supposed to exist within this plane, only ever really appearing when they were without vessels and in their trueforms, leashing it a lot more manageable to groom wings.
Only, Castiel’s wings were very much out and about, connected to the back of one deceased Jimmy Novak, and in a general state of disarray.
Jimmy Novak’s arms were not made to groom angel wings, no matter how they seemed to have... downscaled, enough to suit this vessel.
It would have easily been a lot worse if his wings decided to pop out, unannounced as they did, while still being the same size as they were when attached to his true form, measured to still be the height of the human’s Chrysler building.
The bunker was strong, but Castiel wasn’t keen on finding out how durable it was when faced with wings exploded into existence from the inside.
He still had to figure out what caused them to pop out, Castiel mused, shifting around uneasily in the bathtub. Water sloshed around, leaving more water on the floor outside than inside the tub. Frowning with distaste, a flicker of grace had the taps turning on to fill the bathtub, not for the first time.
“-Cas? You h–whoa, buddy.” Stumbling to a stop, Dean gaped.
Redirecting his frown to the hunter that had stopped directly at the entrance of the bathing area/infirmary section, Castiel shifted again, more water slipping out even as the never ending stream of water strove to fill the tub.
“Uh–wings?” Dean was clearly unable to say anything else, wide eyes gawking at the abundance of feathers that was readily visible, as much of it were outside rather than crammed into the tub. Castiel tried to shuffle around so that he could soak various parts at a time, but there was really no easy way to go about it.
“Yes, Dean. Wings,” Castiel stated dryly. “May I help you with anything?” He prompted.
Dean blinked, coming back to himself as Castiel reminded him of... whatever he was doing here, but he still seemed to be struggling with himself for reasons Castiel wasn’t sure of. “Nah, man. Sammy said you were in, thought I’d stop by to see what you were up to, but, uh...” he trailed off, emanating awkwardness as he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes torn between flitting to the side and greedily drinking in the sight of Castiel’s wings.
Castiel sighed. “My wings appeared,” he provided. “No, they aren’t supposed to do that. I imagine my prolonged inhabitants of this vessel without ever once leaving it forced them to appear and demand tending to.”
Dean was now looking between said wings and directly at Castiel. The wings were winning his center of attention. Castiel couldn’t really blame him.
“So... you decided to take a bath?”
“I’m trying to,” Castiel grunted. He started to push himself up into a seated position, folding his wings a bit so that the bottom portion of them all would be dumped into the water instead. “I admit, it hasn’t exactly been a successful endeavor th–”
“Woah, there!” Dean abruptly exclaimed. Whirling around, Castiel watched, befuddled as Dean clamped a hand over his eyes despite facing having his back to Castiel. “No need to flash me the goods, man,” Dean said, letting out an awkward chuckle.
Castiel tilted his head, confused. “‘Flash you the goods?’” He repeated, quietly mulling over the words before his expression cleared as he understood what Dean meant. “Ah, you presume I am naked. Rest assured, Dean, I am not.” As if to prove his point, he rose completely, his wings a leaden weight at his back that he easily bore. It was rather uncomfortable, however, as the feathers were a wet enough mess to feel clogged up.
“Uh.” Daringly, Dean dropped his hand, face wary as he turned back around. If anything, his face only blanched when he took in the black boxers Castiel wore, completely soaked and clinging tight to his body.
“Uh, right.” Dean licked his lips, eyes snapping up even as his eyes were blank for a second before they cleared. His cheeks were flushing a furious red, but he forged on, determined. “Well, I’ve been doing a spring cleaning anyway. Been taking a few days, what with how huge this place is, but – I mean – because we’ve been between hunts,” he suddenly shook his head. “I think. I have something that might work for you?” He offered.
Castiel didn’t have to consider it. “Anything you think might help,” he easily responded, completely trusting.
oOo
“And... you’re sure this will work?” Castiel said dubiously. They stood in the bunker’s garage, all the other cars parked far enough away – including Baby, Castiel noticed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.
“‘Course,” Dean said cheerily. Unraveling the hose, he stood a few feet away from Castiel, holding the hose at the ready by aiming it at Castiel. Some strange instinct had Castiel immediately protecting himself by the impending spray of water by wrapping his wings around him in a protective cocoon. “Nah-uh, none of that. C’mon, spread ‘em wide, angel. This should be a lot more thorough than tryna cram those guys in a bathtub, and – think of it as a shower!” He said brightly.
Castiel peered over the top of his wings, eyes narrowed into slits. “‘ Should? ’” He repeated, skeptical.
“Mmhm,” Dean said, very convincingly. He didn’t even meet Castiel’s eyes.
Sighing, Castiel resigned himself to the situation. To put it in Dean’s words, he figured the phrase would be, ‘What the hell,’ so with that mindset, he straightened his stance, and flared out his wings, a subtle sense of pride displaying them tall and wide. Dean blinked, but composed himself quickly, and flicked the hose on.
Castiel had been expecting a cold gush of water to hit him like a geyser, so when he was met with the gentle spray of it instead, he was pleasantly surprised. True to Dean’s words, it was very much akin to a shower, and his wings preened at the proper care they finally received as the water cascaded over the entire length of each individual feather, far more cleansing than the bathtub managed even when the feathers were soaked in them.
No. This way, Castiel could feel the dirt and grime falling free, the water just the right amount of forceful to dislodge most of the grit... but it still wasn’t enough.
Humming to himself, Castiel twisted, hands reaching out to where the water was hitting him. Dean didn’t falter as Castiel started to stroke through his wings, straightening them out and effectively scrubbing away the dirt stuck to the base of his feathers, fingers gently massaging and encouraging proper blood flow.
“You need some help there, buddy?” Dean’s voice sounded off, tentative almost. Castiel peeked at him,but Dean’s face wasn’t revealing much either, twisted strangely into... was that barely hidden awe?
Either way, Castiel wasn’t going to turn him down, not if Dean truly wished to. The man had helped him thus far, and besides, with Dean’s help, it really would go a lot faster to have an extra set of hands.
“If it’s not a bother,” Castiel said carefully.
Dean’s face positively lit up with glee, although he was quick to mask it when he realized Castiel was still watching him closely.
“Uh, sure man,” he said gruffly. “If it helps, right?”
Castiel chose not to responding, returning to his task instead yet still keeping Dean in his peripherals. He fiddled with the hose’s setting a bit, turning the water lower so that he still wouldn’t hit Castiel’s wings too hard as he drew close. Abruptly shy, Dean stilled, hands but a few inches away from Castiel’s wings.
“You’re, uh, sure this is fine?”
“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said calmly. “Just straighten the feathers out, if you will. You can use your nails to gently cleanse out any resistant grime.”
“Right.” Dean cleared his throat, looking awkward, but he dared to press forward.
The touch was exquisite, so much so that Castiel had to hold back a high pitched hum of pleasure. Dean’s soul was practically reaching out to his grace, reacting to an extent that his grace flared, reaching outwards to connect to Dean in return. Castiel clamped down his wandering grace, if only barely, aware that Dean would definitely be able to feel such a thing. He didn’t want to spook Dean off, not now.
“They’re kinda oily,” Dean commented with surprise. His face was contorted, as if he wasn’t sure if he was disgusted by it or not.
“Yes,” Castiel said, disdainfully. “That would be the extra grease. A little bit of oil normally would be the best, but with the current state of disarray, I’d have to clean it up entirely and oil them again afterwards.” As if aware of the attention — and they most likely were — Castiel’s wings fluttered, gentle so as to not dislodge Dean’s hands. Of course, it could very well be also Dean’s hands that had them thrumming with energy, barely held in place.
“Uh huh,” Dean’s voice was thoughtful. He didn’t say anything for a bit, choosing to remain in silence as he worked his way through the wings. His wings stood proud, despite the occasional flutter, and Castiel didn’t curb the wing’s desire to melt under and arch into Dean’s touch. He could very well understand their plight.
“So... six wings?” Dean finally said, cocking an eyebrow at Castiel. With their combined efforts, they were making speedy progress through three of the wings on one side, Dean watering off the dirt with each section they individually went through.
“Yes,” Castiel smiled. “I may have mentioned it before, but as a seraph, we have six.”
“Huh,” Dean said. “Cool.” Silence descended upon them once again as they finished the last wing, and moved onto Castiel’s other side, Castiel carefully shifting around to allow Dean space.
Only, the wings on Castiel’s other side refused to behave.
“Woah- ho, there!” The hose fell to a clatter at their feet, water pooling around them as it lay forgotten. Dean was blushing furiously, and if Castiel was capable, he was sure his complexion would’ve rivaled Dean’s.
“ Down ,” he hissed, rather pointlessly. He tried to pry the wings that had wrapped themselves around Dean, but the feathers didn’t budge.
Swallowing, Dean let out a chuckle. Mercifully, his surprise was wearing off fast, overtaken my amusement for the most part. Although Castiel was still embarrassed to note that Dean was still flustered.
“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he said, still trying to pull away the right grip his wings kept on Dean. Stubbornly, not even a single feather shifted, which Castiel was finding ironic, considering how a mere few minutes ago they didn’t stay still. “I—I’m afraid I do not have a good enough excuse to explain away their behavior.” Relenting, for the time being, he hung his head down. He still glared at his wings from the side of his eyes, and not missing it, his wings instead seemed to vibrate with smug satisfaction, coiling ever so slightly more so around Dean, eliciting a yelp.
“Uh— you telling me your wings are, what, sentient?”
“They — yes. I suppose you could say that.” Not even bothering to hide it anymore, Castiel full on glared at the wings, who continued to remain unaffected by the heat of Castiel’s intensity. “Although, they’re usually far more well-behaved...”
“If Sammy were here, he’d be having a field day,” Dean murmured, seemingly to himself. He tried to shift a bit in an attempt to loosen the wings hold on him, but Castiel could only feel, unable to do anything, as the wings on his other side joined the fray instead.
He’d never had the need to, seeing it too dramatic, but at that moment, Castiel facepalmed.
“Wow, huh, okay.” Dean huffed, obviously getting the hint to stay put. “Guess your wings really like me, eh?”
“I don’t blame them,” Castiel muttered, and then froze when he realized that he’d very much said that aloud.
Dean stared. “Uh.”
“I mean — because of our profound bond,” Castiel hurried to explain. Briefly, he wondered if this was what it meant to put someone’s foot in their own mouth, before continuing anyway. “Your soul — my wings, they’re like a manifestation of my grace, and because we’re connected—”
“Hey, Cas,” Dean interrupted.
Immediately, Castiel clamped his mouth shut to halt the stream of words. Once he was sure he’d managed to avoid any further word vomit, he tentatively opened his mouth again. “Yes?”
But Dean was smiling softly. “It’s okay, man, I don’t mind.”
Nevermind whatever he thought before, Castiel had a barrage of words ready to spill. “Are you sure? I understand if you’re uncomfortable, Dean, really. This is unprecedented behavior—”
“Calm down, Cas,” Dean cut him off again. “I like them too.”
And that, effectively silenced Castiel unlike anything else.
“You — oh. Really?” Because he had to be sure, he had to be certain that Dean wasn’t just saying this for him—
“Yeah, man. Really.” Somehow, one of Dean’s hands were let free, and Castiel watched in wonder as Dean carefully stroked the feathers of the wings closest to him, almost as if he was petting them. “They’re not too bad,” Dean said, voice abruptly careful as he focused on the wing with newfound attention. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself, after all. It’s not too hard to think that I’d like your wings too, buddy.” Dean smiled, a shy, hesitant thing, and it was the most beautiful sight Castiel ever got to witness in his entire existence.
“Oh,” he repeated again, smiling dumbly. “Okay, then.” And that was that.
His wings still wouldn’t let go of Dean, but they both found that they didn’t mind the prolonged proximity and — initially — forced contact as much after that.