Archive of Our Own ^beta

This was officially the worst day of his life.

Dean lay pitifully across the plush carpet, wondering how he’d fallen so far.

Theoretically, every choice he’d made up to this point was technically his fault. Swerving around the dog on the road? An active choice. Accidentally crashing into the power pole and totaling both the pole and beater in the process? Not exactly.

When faced with such a dire situation, any normal person may have phoned for help. Dean, on the other hand, lacked both health insurance and car insurance. He couldn’t afford to replace the pole, nor the wires that toppled and snapped with it. Dean was already in debt, he didn’t need the government teaming up with his local loan sharks.

So, with an oozing leg and a toy army man–the only salvageable part from his car–he marched (well, limped) off into the woods. His plan was to wait until the heat died down and he could hitch a ride back into civilization.

Dean’s plans hardly ever went well.

He’d lost consciousness for a bit after his crash- he was likely concussed from slamming his dome into the wheel. Perhaps it contributed to his poor decision-making, perhaps not. Dean didn’t dwell on it- it hurt to think.

When searching for shelter, he stumbled upon a cabin. Who would build a cabin this deep into the woods? It was as if it had simply been dropped from above. Dean was desperate enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A warm glow emitted from the windows and open door. When he approached, willing to request shelter, he found the room deserted. He’d simply give his explanation later- after he’d pilfered the fridge; He gently shut the door behind him before helping himself to the food.

He sat himself at the table with a heaping helping, noticing only halfway through the meal, that the door lacked a door knob.

His chewing slowed as he processed.

Something clicked, and it wasn’t the latch.

The warm, lit cabin? The precut food? The pristine condition of every surface? This was a trap.

An oddly comfortable, humane trap, but still certainly a trap.

His heart pounded in his chest. He spent the next hour thrashing at every part of the interior in an attempt to escape. The chairs smashed against the windows, leaving them with a perfectly intact seal.

“Fuck! Come out and face me, Bastard!” Dean shouted.

He’d bled on most of the floor at this point, the stress only increasing his blood flow. Eventually, he gained the common sense to tie a piece of cloth around it, applying pressure to the wound.

Eventually, he’d become too nauseous to eat- unwilling to consume the (possibly poisoned) food anyway.

He lay on the only clean spot on the carpet and contemplated his life until he fell asleep. He drifted lightly for the next hour, tossing and turning as the world seemed to warble.

Dean awoke to a pair of hands grasping him from above. He screamed, struck, and squirmed until their grip loosened enough to let go.

He fell a few feet back onto the carpet, wincing when he scrambled back to his feet.

“Who the hell are you?” He yelled, glaring up at them.

A creature stood above him, peering at him.

If he had to take a guess, it seemed fifteen feet tall.

Large round eyes peered down at him from within a round, smooth, pointed face.

When it had touched him, he’d felt its skin- it was as soft and plush as a mantaray, though, clearly not soggy. Despite being content on land, it seemed to be some selachian-type creature.

It rumbled soft noises at him, making unfamiliar gestures.

It spoke indiscernibly; A language barrier- Of course, exactly what he needed.

“Bring. Me. Back. Home!” He gestured broadly, hoping some were universal symbols.

The creature stepped away for a moment, returning with a handful of food. It set a tray on the ground on the opposite end of the room.

With a tap, the far wall went transparent, the creature sitting behind it.

He flipped it off. He didn’t need their shitty food. Despite being fresh and juicy the previous night, he refused their pitiful meal. Dean was no fool -it was probably drugged.

He noted the lack of poison in his previous food. If they’d wanted him dead, he’d already be dead, not lounging on a plush carpet with a meal splayed before him.

Dean sat across from the creature on the opposite end, keeping him within his sight at all times. When it realized he had no intention of eating, it stepped away. It returned with a moment, placing a plate on the floor before him.

On it sat a glass of water and a single green pill.

“I’m not eating that.”

He picked up the pill and chucked it at the creature. Rather than being halted by the “clear” wall, the pill hit it in the chest.

It let out soft noises at him.

He wished he could understand any body language at all. While it didn’t seem threatening, he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it muttered soft, spoken threats.

It held the pill in one hand before opening the other- a small capped syringe lay in its palm.

It was… a choice? It couldn’t be giving him options, right? He was crazy for projecting human body language onto a creature so distant from his own. It couldn’t possibly know he possessed reasoning skills while simultaneously treating him like some lesser being.

Dean flipped it off again.

A small puff of air came from its nose.

Then, the wall reappeared, matter appearing from the ground like growing ivy. The wall formed a mesh. Then it came closer. It shrank the room until he was plastered between the soft fabric and the wall.

Despite his struggle, it held him securely against the wall.

“What the hell! Did you just panini press me?!

Small chirps were emitted in the distance, clearly from some other creature.

With a little wipe, it stroked a small spot on his arm through the mesh. Wetness? Was it cleaning him?! At least it properly prepped the skin.

“Don’t you dare stab me with that?! Who do you think you are?” Dean’s eyes were wide in fear, prompting another round of coos from the creature.

With a practiced arm, it injected the substance into his arm. It pulled away once it was completed.

Within a few moments, his muscles began to relax. His glare faded from his face, his body going limp despite his protest. He wondered what the shot was for, though he couldn’t bother to muster a single thought.

When it pulled away the mesh, he nearly fell over. It caught him. That’s nice. It would have hurt to fall.

The creature laid him down on something soft. Another kind of creature poked its head into his vision. Its round avian eyes were almost… cute? His head was as fuzzy as its fur.

He tilted his head at it.

A gentle touch on his head. He couldn’t be more comfortable.

He drifted out of consciousness.

Castiel stroked the short brown hair at the top of the human’s head.

While it was borderline traumatic--for both him and the small alien--to have the sedation administered, he had to admit it was necessary. The human was intelligent, yet not enough to grasp that they were attempting to assist him- he supposed the concussion helped with that. They’d have to be persistent with their efforts to win over the creature during its recovery, additional stress would only slow it.

This wasn’t the first human they’d rescued; Castiel was familiar with their reservations around treatment and nudity. The sedation allowed Castiel and the other exotic veterinary professionals to clean them and treat their wounds.

How the human had been walking on a fracture was beyond him.

Something about it–no, him, according to genitalia and presentation-drew Castiel in. He’d rehabilitated hundreds of humans, so why did this one tug at his heartstrings?

Its pliable, soft body lay in his lap as the anesthesia wore off. He knew it would be irritated when it was conscious, but that did nothing to deter the bond he could feel growing for this creature. He enjoyed the contact with him, certain he wouldn’t have the same opportunity anytime soon.

He made up his mind. He’d take it home to rehabilitate. It was only logical to give it a higher level of supervision and assistance, given its current state.

Taking it home would get the urge out of his system. He’d have plenty of time to work out the protective urge that overwhelmed him. Then, when the cast came off, he’d let him go.

Humans need freedom. They were sentient creatures (though far below his own species’ sentience), and it wasn’t right to keep them as pets.

Dean woke with a startle, head unfamiliarly dizzy. He attempted to reorient himself despite the way his head spun when he conjured a thought.

The new creature was with him again. Warmth emitted from beneath him- he was lying on it? What had happened to him? Where was he- aside from a lap? The last thing he remembered. What was it? He racked his mind, only recalling a warm caress. The same hand remained on his head. He swatted at it, irritated at the audacity of this thing. His struggle revived.

Gentle chirps emitted from this creature as it set him down on a soft surface. Damn right, it better put him down. Despite his efforts, he could not rise.

Against his will, he snuggled into the new soft surface and drifted off again.

He vaguely recognized the world jostling around him, but couldn’t be bothered to panic. They must have given him the good stuff.

The previous events filtered through his mind like the world’s slowest sieve.

What happened to him while he was out? Fear spread slowly through his clouded consciousness; They could have done anything to him while he was unaware.

He did a body scan. Every limb was stiff- he supposed a car crash would do that to you.
His leg particularly throbbed where he had wrapped it. And yet, the distinct crust of the wrap was missing.

He rubbed his eyes, blinking at the world around him. He couldn’t muster the energy to bring himself upright.

It took him a moment to process the scene. Some sort of contraption encircled his leg. Some alien version of a cast, he’d assume.

“I’m not paying for that.” He muttered.

If they’d fixed his leg, what else had they fixed?

He pulled the band of his pants up, checking the most important part of him. He knew what happened when feral colony cats got trapped. He was cleaner, but definitely untampered with. He let out a sigh of relief.

He could barely make out his surroundings through the dim lightning. This new “cage” was different- much less blood, for a start.

It was an approximate imitation of an Earth home, though different from the cabin he’d been in before.

The world settled around him, the ambient rumbling gone. It felt as if he’d been set somewhere flat.

Despite the groan of his aching muscles, he forced himself upright.

His “bed” was more clearly a pile of blankets and pillows, his injured leg sticking out at an odd angle due to the stiff contraption on it. It smelled vaguely of… seeds?

Dean struggled out of the nest and onto his feet. He fought the excessive stimulation, nearly falling back into his bedding; A bolt of pain shot up his leg, the blood rushed to his head, all while his head spun with exertion. He held onto the table beside him to keep himself upright.

Shuffling resonated from beyond the walls.

The wall and roof disappeared into thin air.

He squinted at the brightness, covering his eyes with his hand.

The creature’s eyes went wide. It chirped to some unknown entity, the lights dimming.

Huh… That was thoughtful.

It sat on the ground, legs disappearing into its fluff.

This time, its chirps were aimed at him.

It placed a bowl of food on the floor.

“I’m not falling for that one again,” Dean said, gesturing in a universally negative manner.

There was no way he’d let them sedate him again- thought it wasn’t like he had a choice. This was a different creature than the aquatic one that jabbed him- this one had only been gentle, though he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t panini press him too.

The creature picked up a piece of food and ate it.

Not medicated then.

As wary as he was to take anything from this creature, he was hungrier. He dug around his brain for anything helpful in the survival department but came up empty-handed.

Dean stumbled toward it, unsteady in the cast. He tripped almost immediately.

Before he could hit the ground, the creature’s hands were on him, hoisting him up to his feet.

“Get your hands off me!” He attempted to swat at the hands, but they had receded before he had the chance.

Its feathered ears flattened to its head.

Well, now he felt bad. Was he really the rude one in this situation? He’d been taken from his home, forcibly sedated, and held against his will; he deserved to be upset.

But this creature had only ever shown gentleness to him.

This damn concussion was messing with his head.

Whatever its intentions were, he didn’t like it.

It picked up the bowl and held it out to him. It was comically small in its hand.

He took it, careful not to touch the weird bird skin, before sitting back in the blanket pile.

While it rustled around with some papers, he observed it.

It was clearly avian in descent. Aside from its limbs, it was covered in fluff and feathers. He’d been against its salt and pepper coat earlier- it was soft to the touch. Large wings were tucked in on its back. Standing, it towered over him at 12 feet of height. Sitting, its legs tucked into its fluff. The intimidation factor was much lower when it was mainly fluff.

Is this human trafficking? It’s a lot nicer than he imagined. As pissed as he wanted to be, his stomach was filling and his bed was warm.

The creature held up a picture of Earth. Dean perked up, the glare falling from his face.

It pointed to him and gestured to the image. He nodded enthusiastically. He knew he wanted to go home! He knew where he was from!

It showed him a picture of his car, crunched against the pole, and tapped its leg.

He winced at the image. No shit, he got in a crash. He didn’t need a recap.

“Did you come here just to rub it in my face?” He nodded again anyway to convey comprehension.

The next set of images was clearly hand-drawn.

A cast like his own, and a leg without one.

Through a series of gestures, he understood.

Once the cast came off, he’d go home.

hm…

Like hell he was waiting for the cast to come off. He wanted to go home now!

Not that he had much of a home anymore; He’d lived on the road for so long, nowhere resonated with him anymore. Anything was better than living under the control of aliens.

At least on Earth, he could do what he wanted when he wanted.

“No. Earth now!” He used the simplest words he could, hoping the alien would understand. He furiously pointed at the Earth diagram.

It shook its head at him.

“Come on, buddy, I know you understand this.” Castiel pleaded, reviewing the diagrams again.

Either he was on the lower level of intelligence, or he was the most stubborn human Castiel had ever met.

Eventually, he grew frustrated with the human, electing to let him figure it out on his own. He pinned the diagram on the wall of his habitat, retrieving blank sheets instead.

He placed a few sheets and writing implements on the table beside the human. Then he began on his masterpiece, demonstrating the use of the pencils.

He drew a picture of his face and wrote his name underneath.

“Cas- tee- el.” He sounded out his name as simply as he could, pointing at the syllables. He tapped the page against himself.

Its mammalian voice repeated the sound roughly, voice upturning with a curious intonation.

“Yes! Good!” He praised.

He looked at the human expectantly, nudging the papers to it.

That was its name. Castiel?

When he sang it back to the bird, he received a trill for his efforts.

He’d only just met this thing, and yet he seemed to understand it more and more by the moment.

When it nudged the odd papers at him, he got the hint. He wrote his name down.

“Dean,” he pointed at it.

“Tiii!” It said,

He shook his head.

“Deee-nuh,” he tried again, this time with a cadence.

“Dee-nuh!” it repeated, rather well for its second try.

He gave it a thumbs up, not caring if it understood the human body language enough. He slouched into his bed and ate his fruit.

Apparently, it decided that was enough exertion for Dean, as it closed the wall and left.

He doubted that banging on the walls would get him home. He relented to eat his fruit and draw a few more symbols for when the bird–no, Castiel–returned.

Castiel was there later that day.

He’d nearly finished peeing in the sink when the wall went clear again.

Castiel had shaken his head at him, a negative tone ringing clear.

“What? Would you rather me piss on the floor?” He asked, none too kindly.

He made eye contact with Castiel, slowly gesturing with his stream to the edge of the sink, threatening to pee elsewhere.

Castiel let out another sharp chirp.

He was lucky Dean ran out of the stream, or he might have gone through with it.

Sure, there were two other doors in his room, but neither of them worked when he turned the knob.

The bird pushed down on a round door handle, and the door slid open easily.

“How would I know that?” He huffed, finishing shaking off and tucking himself away.

It gestured for him to go into the little room. He looked through the doorway: It resembled a human bathroom close enough.

He shrugged, returning to his bed.

Later, he had to use the facilities again.

As tempted as he was to pee on the ground, it was counterintuitive to soil his own cage. He used the bathroom properly.

Upon his return to bed, he found a small sweet on his bedside table.

Asshole thought he could train him. Dean was an adult, he couldn’t be trained.

The treat was pretty tasty, though.

The next few days went by in a blur. Castiel would deliver him a meal, sit with him, and communicate through pictures before leaving him to his own devices.

Occasionally, he would simply sit beside his enclosure and read off a screen or book. Dean didn’t need a bedtime story. He fumed the first few times, yelling at Castiel until he left. Then, he heard the sounds loud and clear from beyond the walls. Maybe he just liked to read out loud- it helped him concentrate sometimes.

If it soothed Dean to drift to sleep, no one would know.

A few taps on the outside of the cage before the wall disappeared -Castiel’s pattern of knocking.

“Deanuh!” Castiel greeted, clearly in a good mood (as usual).

He spoke to him cheerily, probably explaining how his morning had gone or the plans he had for Dean.

He set down a (proportionally) small box. Turning the handle emitted a soft tune. A music box.

After the first play, it chirped along with the box.

The tune was cute, almost sickeningly sweet. He couldn’t grasp a single bit of the lyrics Castiel sang- his voice box unable to function that well.

“On Earth, we had real music. Not like this lovey-dovey song- pun intended.”

He waited for the box to end, looking bored until it ceased.

“You want to sing? Let’s sing a real song.” He pointed at the box and shook his head.

“Rising up, back on the street-” Dean began singing "Eye of the Tiger” to him.

The bird sat before him, head tilted with enthusiasm. It poorly imitated the beginning of the song.

Dean skipped to the chorus, repeating it once and gesturing for the bird to do the same.

Castiel did the same. He gave him a thumbs-up.

“Good bird!’

He didn’t sound out the individual words, but the tune was there! His chest thrummed with excitement.

When he got it right, Dean gave him the pleasure of singing it with him.

It was the first time he’d enjoyed himself since the crash. This alien had the capability to grasp classic music; maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Castiel was messing with his stuff.

More often than not, Dean would stretch his legs around his cage. The soreness had nearly faded from his body, allowing him more ease of movement, despite the cast.

Today was one such day. He was working on a new symbol for Castiel.

Castiel had the audacity to steal his whole bed. Was this a punishment for something? He couldn’t remember doing anything wrong. When he shambled toward it, Castiel glanced back at him. He chirped sounds that felt reassuring. He supposed he’d take Castiel on his word-or lack thereof.

He left for a moment, returning with fresh blankets. Oh, they were clean. They didn’t have the seedy smell of before though. Castiel retrieved one more blanket, placing it under the rest.

This last blanket was much bigger than the others. This one smelled of seeds for some reason. Upon closer inspection… Was that a feather?

Mother fucker.

He marched up to Castiel, the closest he’d ever gotten before, and sniffed him.

The same smell as his bedding.

“Hey, birdface! Any reason why you’re putting your stinky bird blanket in my room?”

He chirped back at him with a confused intonation.

Dean couldn’t understand him, but responded nonetheless, “Well, that’s no excuse for you to give me your secondhand blanket!”

Castiel frog-blinked at him with those large, round eyes.

“Okay fine! I’ll sleep there- but if I find any of your white bird shit on it, I’m gonna find where you sleep and see how you like it.”

Dean… smelled him?

He knew humans were heavily influenced by scent, but he hadn’t expected Dean to come so close!

This was an improvement!

The poor thing had thought he lost bed privileges when Castiel went to swap out his bedding. He had to hold back his laugh. It was a funny thought, though there was nothing humorous about the betrayal on Dean’s face.

Dean understood Castiel more and more as they socialized- Castiel’s reassurances softened the frown on his face.

His scent had nearly completely faded from the human’s bedding, prompting his restoration.

When the human made the connection between his bedding and Castiel’s scent, frustration marred his face. Perhaps he’d been unaware of Castiel’s scent. Should he have left some feathers in his cage to begin with? A more direct connection may have helped him. He’d make a mental note for the next human he rehabilitated.

The next human…

This human had so much personality. Dean’s fear had dwindled over the past few days, letting his traits shine through. Castiel couldn’t get enough of it. And the way he stomped over to get a direct smell of Castiel? Cutest thing he’d ever seen.

If humans didn’t have the intelligence to recognize recording devices, he would have captured the moment.

He fought the urge to tuck Dean into his feathers, certain he wasn’t quite ready for that much physical contact.

He keened at the progress he’d made with Dean. Castiel’s wings fluttered behind him gently, his enthusiasm leaking out.

Once he realized, he froze.

He’d been so careful to keep his frame small. Fortunately, the human didn’t shy away.

His eyes were wide with curiosity, his head tilted as he examined the wings.

Castiel gently extended it, lowering it so as not to block out the light.

Castiel hardly sat with his back to the creature; he supposed Dean had never directly seen his wings. He looked on with an odd fascination but didn’t dare to touch it.

“It’s alright. You can touch if you want,” he spoke with his human-voice, changing his pitch to one the human seemed to react better to. It resembled the inflection one would use with a hatchling.

He didn’t touch

Aside from the bathroom door, there was one more door in his cage he hadn’t tried.

Dean’s fatigue had reigned. He’d procrastinated until it became background noise.

Today was the day. It was the best his head had felt in days.

When he pushed down on the door handle, it opened, same as the other one. Instead of revealing another normal, proportional room, this one opened into a vast household. His cage was merely a fraction of the enormous home.

This was where Castiel lived?

Sure, he’d seen glimpses of the corner when Castiel opened a wall panel, but that was nothing compared to the full view of his domain. He supposed it only made sense that Castiel had taken him home with him. He wouldn’t exactly be around all the time if Dean were still in the first alien facility.

Was he escaping? Would Castiel be pissed he left?

He dismissed the insecure thoughts immediately; Castiel had shown him how to use the door in the first place. He wouldn’t leave one unlocked by accident. He’d only ever been thoughtful in his actions.

He wandered around the living room, eyeing the human adjacent furniture. For creatures with such differing homes, they did a decent job replicating the human environment he lived in.

He was tempted to lumber back into his familiar cage. Dean wasn’t a coward. Besides, something smelled good- caloric and rich.

He marched on like he owned the place.

He jolted at the clatter of metal, relaxing when he realized it was only pots and pans. He followed the sound, finding Castiel to be the source.

This must be the kitchen.

He climbed up a stool, hauling himself onto the kitchen island. Castiel faced the opposite direction, focused on his cooking. He trilled softly to himself. He recognized the tune, Castiel’s rendition having improved with practice. He sang in vaguely human words, his avian accent strong.

“Theue Eyeee uhu theue-”

“Tiger!” Dean finished the line.

Castiel let out an embarrassing squawk, fumbling with the pan in his hand. Recovering, he returned it to the heating element.

Dean had, quite literally, ruffled his feathers. He didn’t seem mad, despite the chiding look on his face.

He spoke a few “No’s" mixed with words he didn’t understand.

It felt like something along the lines of, “You scared the daylights out of me! What were you thinking, human? No spooking me, alright?” Dean filled in the gaps, only slightly making fun of Castiel in his mind.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you that bad.” Dean held his hands out in surrender.

Castiel seemed content with his apology.

“Just don’t do it again, okay? Someone could have gotten hurt.” Castiel accepted his apology.

Dean’s cute, remorseful expression had been enough for him. Besides, he couldn’t be mad when this was the first time he’d come out of his habitat. His feathers settled as he processed the development, surprise trampled by enthusiasm. He had enough strength to explore the house now! He was brave enough to leave the comfort of his habitat. Brave enough to- climb on his kitchen island?!

He reached out to grab Dean under the armpit, freezing before he could do so. He’d never lifted a conscious Dean before. He didn’t want to ruin the trust they had built.
He communicated his intentions; Castiel gestured as if he were lifting the human and placing him on the ground.

Dean tilted his head at him; why?

Castiel placed his hand at counter height and gestured downward. It was a big fall for a little human. It was an unnecessary risk.

Dean rolled his eyes at him. What a little scamp.

Castiel offered his hands again.

Instead of fitting his armpits in them, he maneuvered Castiel’s hand to be at waist height. Then he… sat on it. Castiel’s other hand supported his back as he lowered Dean to the ground. It wasn’t the most efficient, but it gave Dean some control, which is what mattered. As long as he felt safe, Castiel didn’t mind the inconvenience.

He only pulled away once Dean had gotten his bearings.

Now he knew how to offer a lift to the human.

Dean remained in place, staring up at Castiel.

“Did you need something?”

He pointed at the pan.

“This isn’t for humans. It’s not good for you.” He shook his head.

Dean nodded yes, insisting upon the food.

Castiel was frying food from his planet in oil. While it was technically safe for human consumption, it was far from healthy.

He grabbed some less processed food from the fridge, offering it to the human.

Dean pointed at the pan.

This was the most enthusiasm he’d received from the human, even if it came in the form of a demand. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to oblige him this once.

“Fine. I suppose you deserve a treat for being brave today. You have to wait for it to cool first, though.” Dean not-so-patiently waited as Castiel finished frying the food.

He put his portion on a plate and Dean’s slice on a napkin.

He gestured for Dean to follow him to the living room.

When he sat on the couch, Dean attempted to follow him. He scrambled at the side of the couch. If he hadn’t been wearing a cast, he’d probably have made it.

“Don’t overexert yourself. You need to heal.” Castiel reminded him. He offered his hand at waist height, the same as Dean had moved it earlier.

He huffed before sitting on his hand.

Perhaps he should get a set of stairs for when Dean healed; humans love independence.

Oh.

Right.

When Dean healed, he’d be back on Earth. Where he had the most independence. Where he belonged, with his people.

But for now, Dean wriggled impatiently on the couch, staring at the food on the coffee table.

“I know, I know, I’m horrible for not allowing you to burn yourself.” He spoke in a soothing tone, no actual guilt trip in his voice.

Castiel mimed touching the food, pulling away quickly, as one would for a hot stove.

“I know how to avoid burning myself.” Dean rolled his eyes. Though with how tasty it smelled, he couldn’t be certain. Castiel was the only thing stopping him from taking an enormous bite and doing a million open-mouth breaths to cool it down post-mistake.

He looked around the room as he waited. Examining the alien furniture and design. Despite the foreignness, it was… homey.

The couch he sat upon was comfortable and fuzzy, the outside walls solid, while the interior was simply plush balls. Castiel had his legs tucked beneath him, partially in fluff, partially buried in the balls. Dean wiggled until he was buried to his waist.

This would be a million-dollar idea on Earth.

Then, Castiel presented the food to him, its temperature having been deemed safe.

He took a bite, groaning at the crispy exterior. It was buttery and delicious. And- gone way too soon.

He’d finished his piece within a minute.

He stared at Castiel’s full plate.

“Another one?” He asked.

“No”

“I would eat stuff like that all the time on Earth- actually, that’s mainly what I ate on Earth.”

His arteries did feel less clogged since arriving here. It was almost funny how Castiel provided Dean with healthy, fresh foods, sometimes lightly cooked, but would eat greasy processed foods himself.

He didn’t exactly have a good picture of Castiel’s diet yet. Aside from the bite of human food Castiel had taken his first day, this was the first time he’d seen Castiel eat anything.

He broke his food apart with his beak and tongue, rather than teeth like Dean had. It was fascinating.

“Please?” Dean asked again.

Castiel ignored him.

He’d rewarded Dean with tasty morsels for good behavior before, maybe he would do it again.

What did Castiel want of him?

“Castil.” he did a poor rendition of his name.

That got his attention.

He could see the thoughts forming in those large, round eyes. Castiel spoke his name slowly, annunciating it clearly.

“Castiiil.” Dean tried.

He pronounced the end, minus the trill.

Dean repeated the entire name with the added correction.

Castiel gave him another piece.

So he was food motivated. He’d tried getting Dean to perform actions or open up with his normal food, but it had been in vain. Turns out he just needed to find the right food.

A high-value reward, he could work with.

He had something Dean wanted, Dean had something he wanted.

Dean was clearly touch-starved. Likely even before he was rescued. As social creatures, humans needed physical contact. Dean was no exception, as he’d shown when he was sedated. He was certain this would be the right way to desensitize Dean.

He held out a finger. Miming a gesture for him to touch it.

Dean seemed a bit confused, but still performed the action easily enough.

“Yes! Good boy!” He praised, giving Dean a sliver of a treat.

He repeated the action. This time, when he received the hand, he gave the treat before gently opening and closing the hand. He lifted and lowered the limb, working through his range of motion on the limb while Dean munched on the food.

He did either arm before moving onto Dean’s unaffected leg. His little foot nubs were so cute. He couldn't help but touch each toe bean. Dean gave him an odd look, but didn’t pull away.

Humans had such soft mammalian skin.

Dean let out a soft hum when he put pressure on the arch of his foot. Castiel nearly melted at the sight. Such a touch-starved little creature. His wings fluttered behind him with excitement.

He muttered soft praises as he stretched and retracted the limb, applying comforting pressure. When he found a knot of tension, he gently worked it out.

The human spoke words of gratitude.

“You act like such a tough human, but you’re just a little sweetheart, aren’t you? I know you don’t have a choice, but thank you for letting me take care of you.”

It was soothing to have a creature depend on him. To make a difference in his life. Sure, he’d treated foreign creatures, even humans, before, but he’d never been able to oversee recovery to this extent. Day by day, he could see Dean growing stronger, more aware.

His concussion was healing, and his fear was fading.

It was all for Dean to be released in the end. For him to live out the rest of his natural life to its full extent. It was bittersweet. He cared about Dean too much to keep him to himself.

Even if he let out the cutest groans when Castiel massaged his limbs.

There was nothing normal about this.

About the way Castiel rewarded him for his trust.

An urge rose within him. To push Castiel off and storm back to his cage.

He hadn’t done anything to earn this.

He wasn’t some fragile little animal, terrified of everything… Was he? He was trusting a much larger creature to handle him. He didn’t doubt that it could snap his good leg, just as the crash had done to the other. He cared for Dean like an animal, but didn’t treat him like one. He supposed respect transcended words.

It was almost funny. If another human had tried to touch him, or feed him rewards, he would have told them to screw. But this being, with such innocent intentions, he couldn’t harbor any aggression for.

Maybe this wasn’t for Dean; Perhaps his size and injury triggered some protective instinct in this alien. What if it gave him a sense of purpose, like when Dean fixed up vehicles? He wouldn’t have to owe Castiel anything, just like the single mother with two kids didn’t owe him anything for letting him “practice” on her car.

He could get behind that. He was doing Castiel a favor.

If he happened to benefit from that favor, it was a bonus.

But none of that mattered. None of his justifications would change anything. Whatever reason it began–from pity, desire, or need on either end–it didn’t make a difference.

Castiel made him feel safe. That’s what was important.

“I’m only saying this because you can’t understand me, alright?” He licked his lips, anticipation unfairly building.

Why was he so nervous to speak?

Castiel couldn’t reject him- he couldn’t understand him.

“You’re actually pretty cool. I appreciate what you’re doing for me. You didn’t need to be kind and respectful to let me heal- I’ve handled much worse, but you were–are–anyway. I just wanted to say, thank you.”

Castiel’s face lit up. Words didn’t mean anything, but intentions did.

Castiel replied to him, reassuring chirps. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank youou.” Castiel repeated, then he said a different word, one in his language, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Thank you.” Dean repeated.

He received another piece of Castiel’s meal.

The next day, he tore up a blanket in his room. Not the one from Castiel’s room, but still, a blanket that did not belong to him.

His body hummed with emotions. Things were going fine yesterday; Why was he so tormented today? His eyes stung with frustration. The emotion tightened around his body. His cage-no, room was open, the real vice was himself.

Now humiliation stirred in him. He destroyed something of Castiel’s. It only fueled the flame.

He grabbed a small piece and clenched it in his fist.

He didn’t want to confront Castiel, but he had to. Maybe he’d give him one of those sedation pills and wait until the emotions seeped from him. It wasn’t like he could get any alcohol, so that would have to do. Over the time he’d been here, he’d learned to go to Castiel for his needs. He was the creature that controlled the food and other substances–especially the ones in tall cabinets–this was the natural choice.

He’d make Dean feel better.

All he had to do was try not to take anything out on Castiel.

“Hey! Castiel!” He got his attention, waving.

He could read the expression on Castiel’s face more easily day by day- this countenance showed he knew something was up with Dean.

“I need.. Something!”

“What’s wrong?”

Dean crossed his arms, frustrated that he couldn’t read his mind. Castiel grabbed the stupid human emotion board from Dean’s room. He sat on the ground in front of him and placed the board on the ground.

He tapped the angry face a few times. Then, reluctantly, he tapped the sad face. Despite the feelings squirming inside him, he placed the blanket piece on the sad face.

Castiel motioned for him to stay. He’d probably lost blanket privileges… He’d have to sleep on the carpet or something. He supposed that would teach him for ruining something that didn’t belong to him. He’d slept in worse places.

Castiel retrieved some things from the kitchen before grabbing the blanket remains from his cage.

He set the bag of blankets next to a cardboard box.

He held up the blanket scrap from the board, “No” he corrected, firmly, but without heat.

Dean had the dignity to look ashamed of his actions. He put his head down, not wanting to look at his mistake.

“Dean”

His attention returned to Castiel.

“Yes” He tapped the blanket piece to the cardboard box.

He was supposed to sleep on that instead? Dean tilted his head, tapping “confused” on the board.

Castiel pinned the fabric scrap to an empty spot on the emotion board, writing a foreign word under it.

He tapped the fabric, then ripped a piece off the box.

Destroy

Oh. He was giving him an alternative. It was something he was allowed to destroy.

“Thank you.”

Letting out his frustrations on the box made him feel better, to Dean’s surprise. His conflicted emotions surfaced. He wanted touch again- needed it. Castiel broke the dam the previous night, and now it was all his body could think of. He’d been fine on Earth. Now, all the rest was making him soft. He’d never needed physical contact on Earth. One-night stands and the hum of a good vehicle- that’s what he was used to.

Maybe he could convince Castiel to give him a car. No- how would he even convey that?

Castiel set this off. His body was at war with his mind, and neither remembered what their goals were.

He took his time beating up the cardboard box before ripping it to shreds. Once the anger was gone, all that remained was despondency. He picked at the box shreds, separating the layers in thought.

If he could reach the trash, he would have disposed of the pieces himself. He found Castiel and showed him the pile of scraps. The praise only slightly dulled the ache in his chest.

When Castiel returned to the couch, he followed. He’d have to ask for a set of steps, like a weiner dog that couldn’t climb the furniture.

Castiel set him down a comfortable distance away. He activated a remote, soft instrumental music playing from every angle. Castiel shifted comfortably into the couch, pulling out a book.

Dean picked at his nails, eyes flicking between the couch orbs and Castiel.

When Dean stagnated, Castiel lifted a wing invitingly.

It wasn’t like there was anyone else around. No one could mock him for wanting to snuggle up to a giant bird. His fluff did look inviting.

Any remaining anxieties dissipated at the open welcome. Dean was wanted, welcomed.

Dean waded through the balls, curling into Castiel’s side.

Dean was more of a dog guy. He’d never given birds a second thought as companions before. But this? This was nice.

Castiel’s wing wrapped around him, tucking him into his side, “Yes?”, he lifted the wing for a moment, “No?”

“Yes er- Yes” he responded.

The wing curled around him again. Castiel made a pleased trill before he began reading aloud.

He shifted, snuggling comfortably into his fluff. His warmth emanated. Dean doubted he’d ever been this cozy in his life. Despite the low stimulation, his mind was still.

At one point, he nodded off.

It was quite possibly the best rest of his life.

As his head cleared, Castiel began to give him more complicated entertainment items. He worked through the puzzles first, finding that some held food, while others were intrinsically motivated.

To his surprise, Castiel gave him books. Children’s books were easy enough to figure out. The signs and symbols in his room made more sense as he dissected their language. He lacked the anatomy to properly pronounce many of the words, but luckily, Castiel could extrapolate and meet him halfway.

English and Avian combined into an odd amalgamation of a language, and yet, it worked.

The progress was slow, but steady. Castiel was a good teacher. He was kind, patient, and would make an effort to learn as well as teach.

When Castiel read to him–a nightly occurrence now that Dean had taken the leap–he could pick out a few words. It was a far cry from his father “explaining” math over the dinner table. Castiel made the experience enjoyable.

He was nowhere near full sentences, but at least he could make requests now.

Dean realized he could invent words when he lacked them.

“Hot plant.” Dean demanded.

“Hot plant?” Castiel tilted his head, confused.

Dean tugged on his fluff until he followed him to the kitchen.

He pointed at the fridge.

“You want a treat?”

Dean opened the cabinet, grabbing the frying pan Castiel had used to make the fried food before.

“Oh. You have to earn it.” He nodded, grabbing the materials from the fridge.

While he prepared, he taught Dean the words for the food.

Fried potat

He wished he’d waited until it was ready to teach him anything- all he received until then was affirmations for his efforts. Though it was still nice to have confirmation that Castiel appreciated his attempts.

When it was done, Castiel set it on a table too high for him to reach.

“Wait.”

He waited until Dean gave confirmation before he left the room. As tempted as Dean was to counter surf, he had better manners than that. He could be patient.

Castiel brought out two items. A vest and a boot.

A vest and a boot? What did that have to do with anything?

Castiel sat in front of Dean on the carpet. He placed the two items on the floor.

He explained what they were. Not that Dean understood enough of his language to understand. Dean appreciated that he took the time to explain anyway.

Castiel touched them, nodding for Dean to do the same.

When he touched them, he received a piece of potat. He did this a few more times. It was easy work, but Dean wouldn’t complain.

Then, Castiel picked it up and motioned for him to touch it while he held it.

When he touched it, he didn’t receive anything. He tried again.

Castiel tapped his fluffy chest. He tapped his chest against it.

Bingo. Reward well earned.

Castiel held open one of the two holes on the vest.

He put his arm through it. He munched his reward happily. This repeated a few times. One time, he didn’t hold up the hole- he let Dean pull the fabric to put it on. He repeated the same with the other arm.

Then both arms went in at the same time. He wasn’t sure what the vest was for, but he didn’t mind it if it earned him rewards.

Then he wore it unzipped while they talked. They practiced putting it on and taking it off a few times, Dean learning to turn around to let Castiel zip it up. He didn’t like the idea of having a zipper behind his back, but Castiel taught him how to ask for it off.

Dean did so well with the harness, putting it on after not long at all. Castiel slowly desensitized him to it, though he could tell Dean was eager to go faster.

Next came the boot. He could tell Dean was antsy about having his cast manipulated, but let Castiel do as he pleased regardless. Their relationship had grown so much since Dean had arrived. His chest thrummed with pride as Dean showed his faith in him.

Eventually, Castiel fitted the boot onto his cast. Their technology allowed a watertight seal.

Once Dean was properly suited up, he opened the back door.

Dean’s eyes went comically wide as he saw the outside of his home for the first time. Castiel propped the door open, letting the spring breeze flow into the home.

Dean looked up to Castiel for permission–such a good boy–before venturing outside.

He was ecstatic as the sun fell on his skin. He’d have to work on adjusting him to sunscreen too. There was some SPF protection in Dean’s moisturizer, but he was certain Dean didn’t use it. He could barely be convinced to wash his face twice a day.

Castiel led him to the property line, tracing an arm around the edge.

Dean tested the boundary, body physically unable to cross the line. He glared at Castiel.

Castiel understood his protest, “-smart enough to not run away! ”

Castiel reassured him, “I know, I know. You’re very smart, small one. You don’t want to be stuck here. I trust you, it’s others I don’t. This way, no one can take you against your will.”

Dean only got a bit of his words, but his tone conveyed enough to fill in the rest.

Despite his coos, he was still frustrated, brow furrowed in thought. Castiel let him work out his emotions, giving him some space to roam.

He sat on the plants, spreading out his wings to sun them. Dean returned to his side after a while of exploring and testing the boundaries.

“Thank you,” Dean said, clearly appreciative of his new freedom.

“You’re welcome.”

Dean had never been so excited to go outside.

Sure, the “grass“ was blue and the sky was green, but it was better than nothing.

The slow process of donning outdoor clothes was well worth it. Outwardly, he resented the delicate treatment. He wasn’t some dainty flower; he wouldn’t have freaked out if Castiel had wrangled him into a vest… probably. Though he supposed he couldn’t complain about the treats. And, it was nice that Castiel cared enough to take it slow.

He likely wouldn’t have wanted to wear some staticy, high-visibility vest otherwise.

He was renewed with vigor- energized for the first time in ages. He looked to Castiel, assuring him he would stay close, before darting—well, hobbling—into the yard. The sunlight cascaded across his skin, bathing him in familiar warmth. Sure, there were sunny spots in Castiel’s home, but he wasn’t about to lie on the floor… especially since he had a hard time standing up on his own.

The wind rustled his hair, a refreshing change from the stable warmth of the indoors. He padded across the lawn, his toes sinking into the plush plants. Similar buildings were spread on either side of theirs, a forest clearly set in the distance. Weird. He’d kind of thought they were living in a tree.

When Castiel led the way across the yard, he didn’t hesitate to follow. He didn’t know where they were going, but he was ready for anything. At one point, he stopped walking away, turning parallel to the house with his wing extended.

What was he doing? He was blocking any further than that distance away. Oh, he was marking a perimeter. That was fine, he didn’t plan on running away.

Dean copied him, extending his hand into the air. When he reached the point that Castiel gestured to, his hand sat flush against a surface. A surface that Castiel could clearly pass through.

“Really? You’re seriously blocking me in here? I think we both know I’m smart enough not to run away! You don’t even trust me!” He huffed, his temper rising. He barely restrained the urge to yell.

Castiel spoke in soothing chirps, explaining something about safety. Dean understood the gist, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

Castiel moved back toward the home, settling into the grass nearby.

He didn’t need a fence to keep him contained! He was an adult- he wouldn’t get lost in the wilderness (or suburban-ness for that matter).

Castiel never restricted Dean without reason, even if the reasons were sometimes beneath him. If Dean wanted to burn his face on hot food, that should be his choice. If he wanted to run into the woods and be eaten by some alien wolf, he should be able to do that.

He was tempted to launch himself into the barrier, but that would only prove that he needed the barrier in the first place. Worse, is that Castiel would be concerned about his health, mental or otherwise.

He could probably dislocate his shoulder and unzip the vest, but it would be pointless. He didn’t have anywhere he wanted to go. Besides, if he did, Castiel could probably swoop down like a bird of prey and drag him back.

No matter how mad Dean tried to be, his logic didn’t add up; Castiel was looking out for him. He resisted the urge to look at Castiel, knowing his apologetic coos and adorable big eyes would make him forget why he was mad. He had a good heart, and Dean would be damned if he was going to be the one to ruffle his feathers, pun intended.

Dean roamed around the yard, testing the boundaries. To his surprise, he could go around the side of the house to the front yard. Castiel left him alone to explore

To his surprise, he could round the entire building. An enormous walkway wound between buildings, connecting each.

After a bit of time alone, he worked out the residual frustration. In the end, he was grateful that Castiel let him outside. He could have kept him holed up indoors until his leg healed, but instead, he chose to let him experience more of the planet.

When he thought about it, this was his first experience with the outdoors. Maybe he didn’t want to overwhelm him. Castiel was all about slow, smooth acclimation- perhaps when he showed him he could handle it, he’d take him elsewhere.

He approached Castiel again, having thoroughly explored his territory.

“Thank you.”

”You’re welcome.”

Dean lay down beside him.

Dean made it a habit to go outside nearly every day.

When the sun shone through the windows at the peak of the day, he’d find him and mercilessly tap on him until he brought him outside.

He got into the habit of bringing Castiel his harness and boot. He had to relocate Dean’s outdoor gear to stop him from climbing the coat rack to retrieve them.

As predicted, Dean was not a fan of wearing sunscreen.

As opposed to his clothing, he’d never bring him the sunscreen bottle, clearly hoping he’d forget. Castiel never did.

Humans had so much exposed skin that they were just asking to get skin cancer. He’d be a poor caretaker indeed if he let Dean forego the protection.

Despite Castiel’s attempts to desensitize him, Dean refused it. Dean knew it was good for him—Castiel had explained it enough times to get the message across—but the stubborn thing still tried to weasel out of it. It was as if the premise of skin protection insulted him.

One day, Dean stood his ground, refusing the sunscreen entirely. Castiel, not one to manhandle smaller beings into being responsible, didn’t let him outside as a result.

His pouty expression nearly drew him to relent; His sclera allowed for such expressiveness, unfortunately for Castiel’s heart.

If it was torture to keep Dean from scorching his flesh, then Castiel was a sadist.

The day after, Dean hid the sunscreen. He made a show of looking in the spot where they normally left it.

“Sorry, Bud. It’s missing. I suppose that means you’ll have to stay indoors. No sunscreen, no sun.”

Dean held up the third finger of his hand.

The next day, it rained. Despite the lack of sun streaming through the windows, Dean requested the outdoors yet again.

He supposed Dean had figured he’d go outside when it was dark to save him from the mortifying experience of wearing sunscreen.

Castiel laughed to himself- it was pouring. Despite his explanation of rain, Dean insisted on going out. Castiel indulged him, suiting him up in his outdoor gear.

Every human Castiel had met hated water spray. They’d never bathe humans awake lest they want to face their tiny wraths. The few times he’d surveyed Earth, the humans would run from the rain or use technology to block it.

He’d been stocking Dean’s habitat with cleansing wipes to accommodate his hygiene needs.

But Castiel wasn’t about to skip out on the harmless consequences of Dean’s actions.

Dean took one step across the threshold and got soaked to the bone. Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at the way his hair splayed across his face. Rather than rushing back inside, Dean stayed in the rain. He hobbled around the yard, sinking his toes into the grass.

When he looked back, he had a grin plastered across his face. He beckoned for Castiel to join him. How could he possibly refuse that request?

He supposed not all humans hated the rain. Dean always found ways to surprise him. His talons sank into the soggy grass as he joined Dean.

The rain cooled his skin, soaking his fur. It was refreshing, cold, but not unpleasantly so. He flapped and fluttered, savoring the sensation on his wings.

Dean had paused his celebration to watch in awe. He always expressed such curiosity when Castiel extended his wings. Despite how large they made his stature, Dean was never fearful, not anymore. He held one upside down over Dean, blocking the rain for a moment. When he looked up, Castiel dumped the collected water on his head. Dean blinked in surprise. He wasn’t mad, but a spark of vengeance lit up his face.

He received his comeuppance when Dean found the end of the broken water spout. Now they’d definitely need a bath.

He let Dean have his fun. He was being safe enough… until he discovered the puddle in the side yard. It was likely half a foot deep at that point. As much as he encouraged independence, Castiel had to step in when he attempted to leap into it. He snagged Dean before he could hit the ground.

He complained and squirmed, but Castiel did not set him down until he agreed not to jump directly onto his broken leg. They came to a compromise, Dean simply stomping into the puddle while Castiel hovered in case he fell.

Only when Dean’s lips turned blue did he suggest they go back inside. Dean didn’t complain, tuckered out after weeks of relative inactivity.

Castiel shook off in the vestibule, accidentally spattering Dean with his feather water. After chirping an apology,

”Let’s get you warmed up, huh?”

Dean stripped off his clothes, ditching them on the tile of the vestibule.

That was new. Thoughtful, but new.

Undressing or bathing a human had never been pleasant in his experience. He supposed this is what some humans were like when they were….comfortable. He trusted Castiel not to hurt him at his most vulnerable, and knew he would receive clothing again. His chest hummed with warmth despite his soaked fur.

While this was far from a human’s natural habitat, it was the closest they’d gotten to it; Rescuing humans from the hyper-monitored outdoors was easy, seeing a human’s routine in the comfort of their habitats? Not so much.

He led the way to his bathroom, a room he’d never brought Dean to before. While he was sure Dean wouldn’t purposefully drink the chemicals under the sink, he could never be too careful. Castiel filled the tub shallowly, helping Dean in when it was the proper height.

Castiel had a full bathroom the entire time? He could have been taking real showers? Not that Dean would have been able to operate any of the faucets, let alone get into the tub. Castiel had provided him with bathing wipes. They were nice enough, but they did not compare to the real thing.

It had been ages since he’d experienced rain. Castiel had looked at him skeptically when he requested to go outside, but allowed him nonetheless.

Warm rain, no sunscreen, and a proper warm bath- it was his lucky day.

Castiel made quick work of cleaning himself, rinsing off with the shower head. Dean was happy to sit and bask in the warmth while he ruffled his feathers in the water.

He offered Dean an enormous cloth while he finished up on himself. He scrubbed away happily, even washing his face, to Castiel’s surprise.

Then it occurred to him. Birds liked to preen- Castiel specifically adored his hair. Who was he to deny a creature their base instincts?

Instead of requesting shampoo, he nodded his head toward Castiel, “Clean?” he requested, repeating it in both languages.

When Castiel handed him the shampoo, Dean shook his head, “Castiel clean?”

Castiel’s pupils widened, clearly enthusiastic to be needed. He nodded, gesturing for him to come closer.

He had to admit, his intentions were not purely altruistic; Castiel’s claws scratched his scalp like nothing else. His eyes fluttered closed, his body giving all attention to the sensation. He doubted his hair had ever been cleaner.

Then, he heard the chirpy giggle from behind him.

He looked upward, his head falling backwards to look at him. He caught a glimpse of something directly above him. Castiel had smoothed all of his hair into one big spike on his head. His hair had gotten a bit long.

Dean parted it down the middle instead, forming two ears like Castiel’s. He laughed even louder at that one. He ruffled it down playfully before rinsing it out.

After they had conditioned and rinsed off, he wrapped a fluffy towel around Dean, setting him down on the bathroom floor. Castiel did the same, drying off the best he could with all that fur.

He wrapped the towel around himself, gesturing for Dean to wait while he retrieved something. He returned with a set of human clothes.

While Dean dressed, Castiel got into… another shower? A gentle whirring began once the glass door shut behind him.

Heavy, wet fur fluffed up as air passed through it. Oh, it was a hair—well, fur—dryer. With that much feathers and fluff, he couldn’t imagine how long it would take to air dry. He felt like a perv watching Castiel dry off- but it wasn’t like he normally wore any clothes.

There was enough room for Castiel to fully spread his wings. He did so, stretching them out.

He always took the opportunity to admire Castiel’s wings. While his body was salt and pepper, his wings were stark black. When Dean had first arrived, he suppressed so much as a flutter around him. Maybe Dean had earned his trust. Whatever the reason, Dean was grateful. Full, shiny feathers sat against each other in a neat arrangement. Well, they usually did. Between the shower and the blow dryer, they were ruffled and fluffed in disarray.

When he was thoroughly fluffed, he exited the dryer, gesturing for Dean to come close. Castiel sat on the ground, legs tucked in. When Dean neared, he pulled him against his body with a wing.

Dean could stay in there forever.

Clean, warm fur encompassed him.

To say he was cozy would be an understatement. He had transcended comfort into the realm of toasty fluff. He smelled like fresh bird. If Dean nuzzled into him, he wouldn’t admit it. No one would ever know how much he appreciated this giant alien bird and his vast mountain of plush fur.

“Couch now.” Castiel said, leading Dean back through the living room.

Castiel stripped Dean of his protective boot, seating him comfortably on the couch.

Dean didn’t hesitate to nestle back into his side.

Just like that, they had settled into a sense of normalcy. He was welcomed with open wings. Cared for as if he were worth something. Sure, he was smaller, but he never felt small. It’d be easy enough for Castiel to scoop him up whenever, to force sunscreen onto him, to deny him the inconvenience of rain, and yet, Castiel never did.

For the first time, he let the thought surface. He liked it here.

Sure, he liked Earth well enough. It was his home planet. So why did this place feel more like a home?

He was mooching off of Casitel’s kindness. He’d claim to provide emotional support to the alien, but he was fairly certain he received more than he distributed. He could be useful, despite his inconvenient size and hobbled leg. Sure, he was healing, but he had most of his energy back. Teaching Castiel English was an even exchange, so he couldn’t claim as much as that. Perhaps he could-

Castiel shifted a bit above him, breaking him from his thoughts. When he peered out of the safety of Castiel’s wing, he saw nothing- Castiel didn’t have a head?! No. Nope, false alarm, his head was craned behind him, feathers rustling as he picked through them.

Dean wormed out of his position, investigating what Castiel was up to. When Dean mirrored the alien’s curious look, he spread his wing between them, leaning down to demonstrate his preening efforts.

It was only upon closer inspection that he noticed small white… tubes in between some feathers. Castiel demonstrated breaking one, using his beak to crack open the shell and reveal a fresh new feather.

Pin feathers, right. He hadn’t had a bird before, but he knew that much about them. Dean reached out a hand, a silent request to try one for himself.

”Gentle.” He instructed, holding out a pin feather. He crushed it easily, pulling it away to view a pristine feather. Castiel made pleased trills at his assistance.

He must have done a good job, as Castiel shuffled on the couch, lying down. He offered his head to Dean, a dozen pin feathers sticking out from the fluff. Oh, Dean could actually be helpful! His (comparably) tiny, dexterous hands could open even the smallest sheaths.

Dean began to gently prise the feathers from their keratinous prisons.

Castiel interchanged between happy trills and sweet nothings as Dean worked his magic. Perhaps he wasn’t all business, taking moments to run his fingers through his feathers, simply enjoying the plush sensation. Castiel’s head rested against his good leg, closer than required, but certainly welcome.

He was snug in the orbs of the couch, body fatigued but content and supported in a manner that eased any tension.

The patter of raindrops filled any comfortable silence that remained.

Without thinking, he pushed his face into the fluff of Castiel’s head. The impulsive thought won. His warm, sweet scent filled Dean’s nose.

Castiel didn’t seem bothered by it; instead of pulling away, he nuzzled gently back.

He’d never experienced anything weirder, and yet, this felt normal. It felt like home.