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The second time it happens, Castiel is starting to suspect that the universe is out to get him.
Not that that wasn't already painfully apparent (see also: Getting exploded in Chuck's house, God abandoning them all, and, oh, THE FIRST TIME THIS HAPPENED), but he likes to imagine that God cares a little still.
What Cas is not aware of is that this time, it isn't random chance, it's Gabriel.
It's been a couple weeks since Gabe started travelling with them, and Cas's initial distrust has more or less worn away, but so has much of the patience he'd had prior to being reunited with his third oldest brother. Gabe has clearly been the Trickster for far too long.
If it weren't for the fact that the argument they'd had—over who got the last Dr. Pepper, of all things (Cas won)—had taken place a good three days ago, he might even figure it all out. They all know well just how much of a grudge Gabe can hold when someone usurps what he considers his right to all things sugary, but usually he either gets revenge immediately or Sam finds a way to distract him.
It does not help that Gabe covers his tracks well, by timing the transformation to the instant that Cas is busy exploding the last of the trolls they're currently hunting.
For a moment, Cas is too disoriented to realize what's happened and why the world is suddenly so much bigger. Then a blob of troll goo tickles his whiskers.
"NO!" he shouts.
Except it comes out as a very loud, very angry, high-pitched yowl.
He hears Dean come up behind him, kicking aside chunks of troll flesh, and looks up to meet his eyes. "Oh, no," Dean groans, smacking a hand across his eyes, "Not again."
Cas replies in cat-language-masked Enochian, and it is not polite.
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"How does this stuff keep happening to you, dude?"
Dean's incredibly condescending and unjustified question (how many times has Dean gotten himself in the supernatural shit, again? The ghost sickness? That time with the poker playing witch? Gabriel?) goes ignored because, once again, Cas is suffering through the joy of riding as a kitten in the Impala and he is expending all of his energy to not throw up on Sam.
"I guess at least this time we've already got the spell."
Sam sighs in exasperation. "Dean," he reprimands. "Maybe you can save it until he's not carsick?" Cas is immeasurably grateful to him when Dean's jaw clicks shut. It is so much easier to concentrate on not vomiting when Dean isn't goading him.
"Besides, we're gonna have to go pick up more willow bark before we can do the spell."
Suddenly Cas is not so grateful.
A silence manages to last all the way back to the Motel of the Week, which Dean promptly ruins by opening his mouth as soon as he kills the engine.
"Seriously, though, what happened this time? Are angels allergic to troll or something?"
Cas swings his head to glare in reproach, but he does it a little too fast and–well, Sam will probably forgive him since it went onto his own bundled up clothing and not Sam's likewise filthy pants...
"Oh gross! Dean!"
"It's not my fault! I didn't do anything!"
Sam gives him bitchface #12, wrenches the door open and scoops Cas up surprisingly delicately for how pissed he is at his brother.
Dean grumbles in their wake as Sam slams the room door behind him.
Very gently, Sam sets Cas down on what he quickly identifies as Dean's bed and he curls into a miserable little ball, giving Sam one mournful mew in thanks.
He's almost asleep when he hears the other Winchester enter. "Wha–dude! On my bed? He's covered in troll guts!"
"Oops. Sorry, Dean," Sam replies as the bathroom door snicks shut. Despite the nausea, Cas starts to purr in vindictive amusement. Score one for the younger brothers.
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Cas has been dozing for maybe 15 minutes when Sam vacates the bathroom and he is rudely airlifted from his comfy bed. He makes an angry little noise of protest that swiftly ends as Dean cradles him against his chest, hand curled around Cas's tiny body.
"Shower time, Ash. Don't need more deadite gunk on the sheets than you already got there." Before Cas can think what those foreboding words might mean, Dean starts skritching his chin in that ridiculously mind-blanking way Cas had almost forgotten since the last time he was a kitten.
Thus he's surprised when he finds himself dumped unceremoniously into the bathroom sink.
Cas blinks up at Dean and ventures a questioning little meow, but Dean just shuts the door and grabs Sam's shampoo, shaking his head.
"You're not gonna like this, but the first claw in my hand is gonna earn you another car ride."
In trepidation, Cas eyes him warily. "What are you talking about, Dean?" he tries to ask. "Dean?"
The hunter reaches over, grabs the scruff of his neck, and Cas suddenly finds himself paralyzed.
"Dean??"
The water turns on.
"Dean??"
The stopper in the sink plunks down and it starts filling with water.
"DEAN!"
Utterly ignored, Cas starts to struggle–or tries, at least, this strange hold Dean has on his neck stopping much of his movement. He weakly flails a paw at the hand that is now thoroughly wetting down his fur.
"Dean, I demand you stop this now! Let me go!"
Dean does not let go, and Cas realizes that willing or no, he's apparently about to get a bath.
The sensation of water all around him is strangely terrifying, and the feeling of helplessness in the face of the washing even more so. But what is really sending Cas into hysterics is how humiliating the experience is. Dean doesn't seem to care about his dignity at all, scrubbing down his entire tiny body, heedless of how awkward it is for Castiel.
Being rinsed and dried in a towel are no more pleasant, and he keeps up a loud and strongly worded protest throughout the process. (It does not help him.)
Cas peaks open an eye when the towel he's encased in drops to the floor and Dean announces with satisfaction, "There. Finished." Dean's smirking at him, arms crossed.
"I do not like you very much at this moment, Dean Winchester," Cas tries to inform him in a growl. All he gets in answer is a laugh and a fold of the towel flipped over his head.
Dean goes to open the bathroom door to escort his kitten-y self back out into the room, but is immediately stopped by Sam informing him that if he lets Cas out, Sam will make sure it's Dean's bed he gets all wet. Cas purrs at this suggestion. Yes. Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea.
Taking one look at the kitten trying to untangle himself in interest of wet-bed revenge, Dean shuts the door again and glowers balefully at him.
"Fine, you're staying in here until you're dry. Just–don't look," he says awkwardly, face turning a little red as he steps over Cas into the tub and pulls the shower curtain shut.
Moments later an arm reaches out and drops his filthy clothes, and the water starts up.
Cas turns away and stares at the door. He suspects that if he were in a human body right now, he might be blushing as red as Dean. Or is Dean still blushing? Cas imagines him just behind that flimsy bit of cloth, flush spreading from his face and down his neck, his chest...
Actually, it's just a little too hot and humid in here, with the steam from Dean's shower beginning to fill the space. Maybe Sam will be merciful and let him out if he sounds pathetic enough.
Cas frees himself totally from the towel and hops over to the door, pawing at it and mewling as heartbreakingly as he can. Behind him he hears Dean make a noise in his throat like he wants to tell the kitten-angel to hold his horses (whatever that means–Dean has never explained), but then remembers he's trying to pretend he's alone in the bathroom.
The pause spurs Cas to meow more loudly, maybe sounding a little desperate now. The sounds of Dean washing pick up speed, like he wants this shower over as quickly as possible.
When the shower shuts off, Cas does not turn around, does not look up; he stays fixated on the door he's still willing to spontaneously open for him. He hears a towel slipping free of the rack and then the curtain opening and Dean padding over to open the door.
It's with Dean's hand on the doorknob that whatever turned him into a kitten this time abruptly ends.
They both freeze, Cas pressed naked, wet, and dripping against the door, Dean flush against his back. Wildly, Cas thinks of his clothing, dumped into a plastic bag with Sam's in the outer room. Then Dean's hands clench and Cas realizes one of them was holding his towel and is currently pressed against the small of his back.
Something hot and massive rushes liquidly through his gut and Cas gasps, growing even more tense as he keeps himself from leaning back.
He's saved from the fight when Dean jumps back and starts shouting. Moments later he's clutching a towel against himself and Dean has exited the room, leaving Cas feeling cold and empty where that molten feeling had settled only moments before. His throat feels inexplicably tight and he swallows against the feeling.
"Maybe next time you'll think twice before you steal my Dr. Pepper, baby bro," an obnoxious and now all-too-familiar voice tells him.
"Gabriel," Cas growls, head whipping up to find the archangel leaning against the sink, looking incredibly smug. "You–you were responsible for this?"
Gabe's smile is all he needs for confirmation.
It's left to Sam to break up the fight that ensues. Dean's too busy being tangled in his own jeans.