Fic: Naked Bodies, Naked Words
Title: Naked Bodies, Naked Words
Author: tawg
Word count: ~3,500
Rating: PG
Pairings/characters: Sam, Cas, Dean (gen/pre-slash)
Notes: Written for round six of blindfold-spn, posted here
Prompt: Castiel is severely injured or traumatized, and one or both of the brothers have to take care of him--carrying him like a child, holding him, maybe dressing him or sleeping next to him.
Castiel could barely move and he sat awkwardly on the backseat of the Impala - his shoulder jammed against the door and his legs stretched out on the seat. His head had lolled sickly back and forth until Dean had gotten fed up with Sam’s fretting, pulled over, and shoved Cas down so his head was resting against the seat. Sam had given Dean the bitchface the action deserved, but Dean maintained that it would be more comfortable.
They were both just relieved that he’d stopped bleeding.
Sam had noticed that when angels killed, they aimed for one specific site with their blade. He’d assumed that it was like the angelic equivalent of a head shot. And then he’d found out what happened when an angel’s aim was a little off. Cas was still in there, was still alive, but he had very little control over his vessel. Speaking was out, and what little movements he made seemed to require a great deal of effort.
“We should stop soon.”
“Pfft, why? We still got hours before we need to swap drivers.”
“Because my feet are numb and I can hear your stomach growling over the engine. Look, Bobby said there was no point in rushing - he’s got no quick fix stashed at his place.”
Dean glanced up into the rear view mirror. “What do you think, Cas? Think we should stop for the night?” Dean stared in the mirror waiting for a response long enough that Sam was worried they were going to drive onto the shoulder, but he eventually looked away with a shrug. “Cas doesn’t think we should stop.” Sam punched Dean in the shoulder, and after some brotherly scuffling and dangerous driving, Dean agreed to pull into the next motel that came along.
Dean paid for the room and hauled their two duffels in. Sam eased open the passenger door Cas was slumped against, quickly putting a hand on the angel’s shoulder to stop him from flopping out. He slung Castiel’s arm around his neck, wrapped an arm around Castiel’s back, and dragged him out of the car far enough that Sam could get his free arm under Castiel’s knees without hitting his own head on the roof of the Impala when he straightened up. He kicked the door closed (being gentle enough to avoid leaving a footprint) and carried Cas into the motel room.
“Congratulations to the married couple,” Dean deadpanned as Sam stepped across the threshold with Castiel in his arms.
“You’d better not be rooming with us for the honeymoon,” Sam shot back.
Dean paused for a moment, thinking that over. “Ew,” he said at last. “No getting angel cooties on the bed.”
“Well, he’s going to be sharing with one of us,” Sam said, easing Cas down into the bed farthest from the door. “There’s only two beds.”
“He can take the couch.”
“We’re not sticking Cas on the couch.”
“Why not? It’s not like he sleeps.”
“It’s a tiny couch. You couldn’t lay a twelve year old out on that.”
“Well, it’s what we’ve got. Hey, Cas, I’ll arm wrestle you - loser gets the couch.”
“You are such a dick, Dean.”
“A dick with a bed all to himself,” Dean replied smugly.
Sam scowled at his brother. “I hope your mattress has an unnerving stain on it.”
“And I hope your sheets haven’t been washed since before winter,” Dean replied easily. “What are we going to do to kill time in this town? The tv doesn’t even have cable.”
Sam pulled Castiel into a sitting position, and pushed the tan overcoat and black suit jacket off his shoulders. His various layers had just been shoved to one side as Sam had put pressure on the wound and then as he stitched it up when they had gotten Cas somewhere safe and quiet. He was still wearing clothes that were stiff with blood, and Sam set about undoing the buttons at the wrists of the white dress shirt. “Well, here’s some laundry for you to do.”
Dean made a face. “Yeah, okay, I guess that’d make carrying around a deflated angel a little less conspicuous.”
“Thanks Dean. Grab my dirty clothes while you’re at it?”
Dean snorted. “I am not going to press and fold your tighty-whiteys,” he said as he scooped Castiel’s clothes off the bedspread and headed towards the door.
“And don’t forget to do the darning!” Sam called after him.
“Bite me!”
Sam rested Castiel back against the head board of the bed and studied him. He looked tired, his face shiny with sweat and his shoulder a mess of dried blood and stained gauze and tape. Sam moved to the foot of the bed and unlaced Castiel’s shoes. “Look, I know that Dean will never stop making sponge bath jokes about this, but we really need to get you cleaned up.” Castiel met Sam’s gaze and blinked once, the clumsy system they’d set up for communication. “Alright, let’s hope this place has a bath.”
The room did - a bath/shower combination with the toilet crammed against one end and the sink pressed against the wall at the other. But it was a bath, and there was a little row of complementary bottles filled with bath gel, shampoo, and conditioner. Sam found the plug, quickly washed out the bottom of the tub, and set it to fill. There was a thin excuse for a washcloth which Sam threw into the water to soak, and then he set about getting out the first aid kit in preparation for changing Castiel’s bandage.
The water was warm but not steaming when Sam turned the taps off. He headed back to the main room and tugged Castiel’s pants and underwear down narrow hips and pale thighs. He pulled Castiel’s black socks off, and paused to tug a piece of sock fluff from one of his toes. “It worries me that I have so much experience undressing guys who can’t do it themselves,” Sam said, and then sighed. “Not really a skill you can put on your resume. Come on,” he said, getting an arm behind Castiel’s back and one under his knees. “You are about to experience the joys of cheap-ass soap for the first time.”
Sam lowered Cas into the water, and studied his face carefully for any signs of discomfort. While Cas had never exactly had a wide repertoire of emotions, while Sam had been stitching his shoulder up he’d seen something that definitely translated to “ow”, and then a softening of features that suggested “I’m glad that’s over”. Cas had managed to roll his eyes at Dean, but had then laid still for a long time with his eyes half closed. Sam was familiar with that feeling - rolling his eyes at Dean could get exhausting. Sam held Cas upright with a large hand on the angel’s uninjured shoulder as he carefully peeled the bandage away. He kept Cas in that position, slumped part way forwards as he snagged the washcloth and wiped the dried blood away from the wound and then cleaned Castiel’s back and shoulders. He dropped the washcloth, grabbed the bottle of bath gel, and pulled to top off with his teeth before spitting it across the room.
“I hope you like... White Lavender and Rosemary,” he said before squeezing a line of bath gel across the back of Castiel’s shoulders and picking the washcloth up again, washing him with firm but careful motions. He eased Castiel back until his was lying in the tub, and shifted to kneel beside the tub as he reached across and started washing Castiel’s chest with small, circular motions. It was covered with more dried blood, the yellow antiseptic Sam had dumped over the wound, and little lines of glue from the tape Sam had used to hold the gauze in place. Sam washed all of it away with gentle patience.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said as he paused to squirt more gel onto the washcloth. “That’s probably obvious, but... But once you get better, you should try not getting nearly-killed for a while, you know? Take a holiday or something. Can angels do that? Take holidays?” Sam looked up at Castiel’s face, and the angel blinked twice. “Huh, well that sucks. You should look into setting up a union or something.” Sam lifted up one of Castiel’s arms and laid it along the edge of the bath and washed it with long strokes, before paying attention to getting the dirt off Castiel’s palms and out from under his fingernails. When he was satisfied, he stroked he thumb firmly back and forth across Castiel’s palms a few time, a solid pressure. He looked up and saw Cas watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Jess used to get me to give her hand massages around essay time,” Sam explained. “Huh, that was a long time ago.” He laughed, a little awkwardly, and leaned across Cas to wash his other arm.
“Bobby says you’re not a Winchester until you get yourself killed for this family,” Sam said conversationally as he pulled one of Castiel’s feet out of the warm water and set about cleaning between Castiel’s toes. “I think you’re not a Winchester until you’re so incapacitated that Sam has to drag your ass into a motel bathroom and clean you up. So,” he paused, switching feet, before looking up at Cas with a wry smile, “welcome to the family.” Cas gave Sam a level look in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards for a brief moment.
“Hey, you nearly smiled. That’s good. That’s... actually, that’s better than you normally do.” Cas stared at Sam with the same stoic and exhausted expression he’d had since he got stabbed. “Too late, I know you can do it now,” Sam teased. He turned his attention back to Castiel’s foot, rubbing the washcloth against the bones of his vessel’s ankle and working his way up the calf. “I think the worst was Dad,” Sam said, frowning as he noticed that Cas had grazed his knee slightly when he’d crumpled to the ground. “He was hunting a Slender, and they pretty much hypnotise people into doing what they want. But we found out that if you kill the Slender, it doesn’t break the spell. It just leaves the victim in a resting state. I was... thirteen, I think. Yeah. There were some ghosts of past victims to deal with, so Dean got that job and I was stuck looking after Dad until he snapped out of it.” Sam looked up at Cas then as he started working his way up Castiel’s thigh. “I was a lot smaller back then.” Cas had his eyes half closed, but he didn’t look especially exhausted or in pain. He looked at Sam and blinked once, apparently agreeing that Sam was a bit of a shrimp back then.
Sam was running out of Castiel to wash, and took a moment to remind himself that he was looking after Cas, and that Cas was enjoying not being covered in blood and sweat. Cas probably wouldn’t even consider it weird, with his general fondness for invading personal space. That didn’t stop Sam from wringing out the washcloth and moving to perch on the edge of the toilet, by Castiel’s head. “I think you’ve still got some dirt in your hair,” he said, reaching over Cas to grab the tiny bottle of shampoo. “This is... Rose and Mint. Weird combination but, hmm, smells nice.”
Sam poured a generous amount onto the palm of his hand, and then rubbed both palms together, spreading it evenly across his hands before threading his fingers through Castiel’s dry hair. Sam made sure to get the foam spread through all of Castiel’s hair, rubbing it into his scalp and the short hairs at the back of his neck. He peered around Castiel’s head and painted thin stripes of shampoo down his short sideburns. “Before you get scared, I’m not going to dunk you under to wash this off,” Sam said, getting up and snagging the glass cup with two toothbrushes still in their packaging off the small basin. He tipped the toothbrushes into the sink and settled himself back down by Castiel’s head. He filled the cup with water and carefully washed the shampoo away, being careful not to let any of the suds get into Castiel’s eyes. He made sure Cas’ hair was completely clean before reaching for the conditioner.
“Huh, Acai berries and Satin. They really broke the theme they had going there. You were smelling like an old lady’s garden for a while.” Sam made a small, happy noise as he rubbed the conditioner through Castiel’s hair. He ran his fingers through it and pulled them up and away, styling Castiel’s hair into glossy spikes. “You’re lucky you got in first,” he said. “Because I totally would have used all of this stuff up.”
Sam heard the door open, and Dean kick it closed. “Sam?”
“In here,” Sam called back. “What happened to doing the laundry?”
“Dryer was broken, so we get to do this the old-” Dean reached the doorway to the bathroom and paused. He stared at them for a moment, though he didn’t look at all surprised. “You going to paint each other’s nails after this?”
Sam rolled his eyes, still working the conditioner through Castiel’s hair. “Yes, Dean. We’re going to paint our nails and braid each other’s hair. And then we’re going to talk about which girls in our English class have a crush on you.”
Dean snorted. “All of them, obviously. Anyway, I scored us some coat hangers and we get to watch everything drip onto the carpet for tonight.”
“Sounds like an exciting evening,” Sam replied, reaching for the cup and rinsing Castiel’s hair. “Can you give me a hand in a minute?”
“I’m not washing his junk.”
Sam glanced up at Dean and gave him the look that comment deserved. “Just help me get him out of the tub.”
Dean grumbled as he pulled off his jacket and threw it onto his bed. “You got Dad in and out of the shower without my help.”
“Dean, I had to devise a pulley system using towels and a pair of jeans,” Sam said, spreading one of the towels on the bathroom floor. “Just help me get him onto this and then you can go into the other room and your heterosexuality won’t be compromised by the scary, naked angel.”
Dean sighed as he moved into position to grab Castiel’s legs. “You are such a bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah. On three.”
Dean did retreat to the main room, the television clicking on and the volume cranking as Sam took the plug out of the bath and the water drained away noisily. “Don’t mind him,” Sam said to Cas as he rubbed him dry with the other towel. “He just thinks that every time he shows that he cares about someone, he loses man points.” Sam was actually a little annoyed at Dean - he was sure that his brother and the angel were, essentially, best friends. Cas deserved better than being the butt of jokes, and Sam was pretty sure that if he weren’t around Dean would just have dumped Cas on a flat surface somewhere and let the angel sort himself out in his own time. He frowned to himself as he re-covered the neat row of stitches in Castiel’s shoulder with gauze. “I’ll just grab you something to wear, hang on.”
It would be too much to hope that the motel would provide a robe or something, even one of those gross thin ones that felt like they were made out of paper. Sam dug out a t-shirt that was getting too small on him, and stole a pair of Dean’s underwear. The shirt was loose on Cas, but the underpants were a pretty good fit once Sam managed to get them on. “It’s weird seeing you without the coat,” Sam admitted as he tugged the shirt straight. “You look all normal and stuff. Do you need dinner or anything?” Cas shook his head slightly, and Sam raised his eyebrows. “Wow. At this rate you’ll tap-dancing in no time.” Sam crouched, and slung Cas over his shoulder before standing up slowly and carrying him to the main room. He tried to set Cas back down on the bed gently, but the angel bounced a little upon landing. Sam straightened up, and then paused. Castiel’s eyes were rolled back into his head, and he was completely still aside from the rise and fall of his chest.
Dean caught Sam’s stillness, and looked over. “He okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Sam reached up and pushed his bangs away from his face. “I think he’s just worn out.”
“Those friendship bracelets you made earlier must have really taken it out of him.”
Sam flopped down across the foot of Dean’s bed. “You’re just jealous we didn’t make you one.”
“So jealous you’re buying dinner to make it up to me,” Dean replied. “Come on, you good to go?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Just a minute.” It’d been a hectic day - watch an angel get stabbed around midnight, patch him up in the wee hours of the morning, meet up with Dean and drive across a state for most of the daylight hours, then stop and play a socially awkward nursemaid in a shitty motel room. Sam was more than ready for a hot meal and a chance to relax now that Cas was out of danger. But instead of following Dean out the door, Sam promptly fell asleep.
He was sitting on a wide lawn, in one of the parks near Stanford. It was warm, summery weather, and Sam knew that he was dreaming.
“Hello, Sam.”
Sam looked up at Castiel, back in his usual clothes, who was in turn looking around the park with interest. “Hey, Cas. Pull up a patch of grass.” Castiel looked down at the grass with an equal amount of interest, before sinking down gracefully to sit cross-legged next to Sam. He rested his elbows on his knees, slouching forward and watching the distant people as they moved through Sam’s subconscious. “Don’t you usually hang out in Dean’s dreams?”
“Dean is not asleep,” Castiel replied. “And I wanted to talk to you.” After a moment of thought he added, “Also, visiting your dreams is much easier now.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re covered in my grace. Saturated with it, for the moment, to the point where being around you is speeding my recovery.”
“Uh, sorry,” Sam replied. “You can take it back. I mean, if you can.”
Castiel looked over at Sam with a mild, calm look of amusement. “Consider it a gift. If not for your actions, I would be dead now. Again.”
Sam looked away and shifted. “So. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Nothing,” Castiel replied, following Sam’s gaze. “I just wanted to talk.” And then they sat in silence for a long while, which Sam thought spoke volumes about the weird almost-friendship they had. Eventually Castiel ran his fingers through the lush grass in front of his crossed legs and Sam turned to watch. It reminded him of the small pleasure he had taken in washing Castiel’s hair. “Today you were angry at Dean for not taking care of me,” Cas said bluntly.
“Yeah,” Sam replied. “You do a lot for us, we owe you so much.”
“You didn’t heal me because you wanted to repay a debt.”
Sam considered that for a long moment. “That’s true,” he said at last, and their conversation ended there. They sat for a long, peaceful while, with Castiel carding his fingers through the grass and Sam watching.
“I must rest now,” Castiel said abruptly, and was gone from the space beside Sam. Sam flopped back onto the warm grass, and stared up at the blue sky. Around him, the dream shifted.
~*~
Sam could vaguely remember Dean kicking him off his bed at some point in the night, and could remember crawling under the covers of his own bed. He woke up with one arm under Castiel’s head and the other wrapped around Castiel’s waist. He was pretty sure Cas was drooling on him. Sam tried to move away, but Cas let out a small noise of protest, and pressed his face more firmly against Sam’s chest.
“Hope that drool isn’t covering me with any more grace,” Sam mumbled.
“I just hope you two don’t get past cuddling before I get out the door,” Dean said over the noises of getting dressed.
Sam groaned. “Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean replied good-naturedly.
“Assbutt,” Cas muttered loudly. Dean huffed out a laugh, and headed out to hunt down some breakfast.
Sam tightened his arms around Castiel in a quick hug. “’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Mm,” Cas replied absently, a warm, soft weight of lazy angel. And they stayed like that for the whole morning.
Author: tawg
Word count: ~3,500
Rating: PG
Pairings/characters: Sam, Cas, Dean (gen/pre-slash)
Notes: Written for round six of blindfold-spn, posted here
Prompt: Castiel is severely injured or traumatized, and one or both of the brothers have to take care of him--carrying him like a child, holding him, maybe dressing him or sleeping next to him.
Castiel could barely move and he sat awkwardly on the backseat of the Impala - his shoulder jammed against the door and his legs stretched out on the seat. His head had lolled sickly back and forth until Dean had gotten fed up with Sam’s fretting, pulled over, and shoved Cas down so his head was resting against the seat. Sam had given Dean the bitchface the action deserved, but Dean maintained that it would be more comfortable.
They were both just relieved that he’d stopped bleeding.
Sam had noticed that when angels killed, they aimed for one specific site with their blade. He’d assumed that it was like the angelic equivalent of a head shot. And then he’d found out what happened when an angel’s aim was a little off. Cas was still in there, was still alive, but he had very little control over his vessel. Speaking was out, and what little movements he made seemed to require a great deal of effort.
“We should stop soon.”
“Pfft, why? We still got hours before we need to swap drivers.”
“Because my feet are numb and I can hear your stomach growling over the engine. Look, Bobby said there was no point in rushing - he’s got no quick fix stashed at his place.”
Dean glanced up into the rear view mirror. “What do you think, Cas? Think we should stop for the night?” Dean stared in the mirror waiting for a response long enough that Sam was worried they were going to drive onto the shoulder, but he eventually looked away with a shrug. “Cas doesn’t think we should stop.” Sam punched Dean in the shoulder, and after some brotherly scuffling and dangerous driving, Dean agreed to pull into the next motel that came along.
Dean paid for the room and hauled their two duffels in. Sam eased open the passenger door Cas was slumped against, quickly putting a hand on the angel’s shoulder to stop him from flopping out. He slung Castiel’s arm around his neck, wrapped an arm around Castiel’s back, and dragged him out of the car far enough that Sam could get his free arm under Castiel’s knees without hitting his own head on the roof of the Impala when he straightened up. He kicked the door closed (being gentle enough to avoid leaving a footprint) and carried Cas into the motel room.
“Congratulations to the married couple,” Dean deadpanned as Sam stepped across the threshold with Castiel in his arms.
“You’d better not be rooming with us for the honeymoon,” Sam shot back.
Dean paused for a moment, thinking that over. “Ew,” he said at last. “No getting angel cooties on the bed.”
“Well, he’s going to be sharing with one of us,” Sam said, easing Cas down into the bed farthest from the door. “There’s only two beds.”
“He can take the couch.”
“We’re not sticking Cas on the couch.”
“Why not? It’s not like he sleeps.”
“It’s a tiny couch. You couldn’t lay a twelve year old out on that.”
“Well, it’s what we’ve got. Hey, Cas, I’ll arm wrestle you - loser gets the couch.”
“You are such a dick, Dean.”
“A dick with a bed all to himself,” Dean replied smugly.
Sam scowled at his brother. “I hope your mattress has an unnerving stain on it.”
“And I hope your sheets haven’t been washed since before winter,” Dean replied easily. “What are we going to do to kill time in this town? The tv doesn’t even have cable.”
Sam pulled Castiel into a sitting position, and pushed the tan overcoat and black suit jacket off his shoulders. His various layers had just been shoved to one side as Sam had put pressure on the wound and then as he stitched it up when they had gotten Cas somewhere safe and quiet. He was still wearing clothes that were stiff with blood, and Sam set about undoing the buttons at the wrists of the white dress shirt. “Well, here’s some laundry for you to do.”
Dean made a face. “Yeah, okay, I guess that’d make carrying around a deflated angel a little less conspicuous.”
“Thanks Dean. Grab my dirty clothes while you’re at it?”
Dean snorted. “I am not going to press and fold your tighty-whiteys,” he said as he scooped Castiel’s clothes off the bedspread and headed towards the door.
“And don’t forget to do the darning!” Sam called after him.
“Bite me!”
Sam rested Castiel back against the head board of the bed and studied him. He looked tired, his face shiny with sweat and his shoulder a mess of dried blood and stained gauze and tape. Sam moved to the foot of the bed and unlaced Castiel’s shoes. “Look, I know that Dean will never stop making sponge bath jokes about this, but we really need to get you cleaned up.” Castiel met Sam’s gaze and blinked once, the clumsy system they’d set up for communication. “Alright, let’s hope this place has a bath.”
The room did - a bath/shower combination with the toilet crammed against one end and the sink pressed against the wall at the other. But it was a bath, and there was a little row of complementary bottles filled with bath gel, shampoo, and conditioner. Sam found the plug, quickly washed out the bottom of the tub, and set it to fill. There was a thin excuse for a washcloth which Sam threw into the water to soak, and then he set about getting out the first aid kit in preparation for changing Castiel’s bandage.
The water was warm but not steaming when Sam turned the taps off. He headed back to the main room and tugged Castiel’s pants and underwear down narrow hips and pale thighs. He pulled Castiel’s black socks off, and paused to tug a piece of sock fluff from one of his toes. “It worries me that I have so much experience undressing guys who can’t do it themselves,” Sam said, and then sighed. “Not really a skill you can put on your resume. Come on,” he said, getting an arm behind Castiel’s back and one under his knees. “You are about to experience the joys of cheap-ass soap for the first time.”
Sam lowered Cas into the water, and studied his face carefully for any signs of discomfort. While Cas had never exactly had a wide repertoire of emotions, while Sam had been stitching his shoulder up he’d seen something that definitely translated to “ow”, and then a softening of features that suggested “I’m glad that’s over”. Cas had managed to roll his eyes at Dean, but had then laid still for a long time with his eyes half closed. Sam was familiar with that feeling - rolling his eyes at Dean could get exhausting. Sam held Cas upright with a large hand on the angel’s uninjured shoulder as he carefully peeled the bandage away. He kept Cas in that position, slumped part way forwards as he snagged the washcloth and wiped the dried blood away from the wound and then cleaned Castiel’s back and shoulders. He dropped the washcloth, grabbed the bottle of bath gel, and pulled to top off with his teeth before spitting it across the room.
“I hope you like... White Lavender and Rosemary,” he said before squeezing a line of bath gel across the back of Castiel’s shoulders and picking the washcloth up again, washing him with firm but careful motions. He eased Castiel back until his was lying in the tub, and shifted to kneel beside the tub as he reached across and started washing Castiel’s chest with small, circular motions. It was covered with more dried blood, the yellow antiseptic Sam had dumped over the wound, and little lines of glue from the tape Sam had used to hold the gauze in place. Sam washed all of it away with gentle patience.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said as he paused to squirt more gel onto the washcloth. “That’s probably obvious, but... But once you get better, you should try not getting nearly-killed for a while, you know? Take a holiday or something. Can angels do that? Take holidays?” Sam looked up at Castiel’s face, and the angel blinked twice. “Huh, well that sucks. You should look into setting up a union or something.” Sam lifted up one of Castiel’s arms and laid it along the edge of the bath and washed it with long strokes, before paying attention to getting the dirt off Castiel’s palms and out from under his fingernails. When he was satisfied, he stroked he thumb firmly back and forth across Castiel’s palms a few time, a solid pressure. He looked up and saw Cas watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Jess used to get me to give her hand massages around essay time,” Sam explained. “Huh, that was a long time ago.” He laughed, a little awkwardly, and leaned across Cas to wash his other arm.
“Bobby says you’re not a Winchester until you get yourself killed for this family,” Sam said conversationally as he pulled one of Castiel’s feet out of the warm water and set about cleaning between Castiel’s toes. “I think you’re not a Winchester until you’re so incapacitated that Sam has to drag your ass into a motel bathroom and clean you up. So,” he paused, switching feet, before looking up at Cas with a wry smile, “welcome to the family.” Cas gave Sam a level look in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards for a brief moment.
“Hey, you nearly smiled. That’s good. That’s... actually, that’s better than you normally do.” Cas stared at Sam with the same stoic and exhausted expression he’d had since he got stabbed. “Too late, I know you can do it now,” Sam teased. He turned his attention back to Castiel’s foot, rubbing the washcloth against the bones of his vessel’s ankle and working his way up the calf. “I think the worst was Dad,” Sam said, frowning as he noticed that Cas had grazed his knee slightly when he’d crumpled to the ground. “He was hunting a Slender, and they pretty much hypnotise people into doing what they want. But we found out that if you kill the Slender, it doesn’t break the spell. It just leaves the victim in a resting state. I was... thirteen, I think. Yeah. There were some ghosts of past victims to deal with, so Dean got that job and I was stuck looking after Dad until he snapped out of it.” Sam looked up at Cas then as he started working his way up Castiel’s thigh. “I was a lot smaller back then.” Cas had his eyes half closed, but he didn’t look especially exhausted or in pain. He looked at Sam and blinked once, apparently agreeing that Sam was a bit of a shrimp back then.
Sam was running out of Castiel to wash, and took a moment to remind himself that he was looking after Cas, and that Cas was enjoying not being covered in blood and sweat. Cas probably wouldn’t even consider it weird, with his general fondness for invading personal space. That didn’t stop Sam from wringing out the washcloth and moving to perch on the edge of the toilet, by Castiel’s head. “I think you’ve still got some dirt in your hair,” he said, reaching over Cas to grab the tiny bottle of shampoo. “This is... Rose and Mint. Weird combination but, hmm, smells nice.”
Sam poured a generous amount onto the palm of his hand, and then rubbed both palms together, spreading it evenly across his hands before threading his fingers through Castiel’s dry hair. Sam made sure to get the foam spread through all of Castiel’s hair, rubbing it into his scalp and the short hairs at the back of his neck. He peered around Castiel’s head and painted thin stripes of shampoo down his short sideburns. “Before you get scared, I’m not going to dunk you under to wash this off,” Sam said, getting up and snagging the glass cup with two toothbrushes still in their packaging off the small basin. He tipped the toothbrushes into the sink and settled himself back down by Castiel’s head. He filled the cup with water and carefully washed the shampoo away, being careful not to let any of the suds get into Castiel’s eyes. He made sure Cas’ hair was completely clean before reaching for the conditioner.
“Huh, Acai berries and Satin. They really broke the theme they had going there. You were smelling like an old lady’s garden for a while.” Sam made a small, happy noise as he rubbed the conditioner through Castiel’s hair. He ran his fingers through it and pulled them up and away, styling Castiel’s hair into glossy spikes. “You’re lucky you got in first,” he said. “Because I totally would have used all of this stuff up.”
Sam heard the door open, and Dean kick it closed. “Sam?”
“In here,” Sam called back. “What happened to doing the laundry?”
“Dryer was broken, so we get to do this the old-” Dean reached the doorway to the bathroom and paused. He stared at them for a moment, though he didn’t look at all surprised. “You going to paint each other’s nails after this?”
Sam rolled his eyes, still working the conditioner through Castiel’s hair. “Yes, Dean. We’re going to paint our nails and braid each other’s hair. And then we’re going to talk about which girls in our English class have a crush on you.”
Dean snorted. “All of them, obviously. Anyway, I scored us some coat hangers and we get to watch everything drip onto the carpet for tonight.”
“Sounds like an exciting evening,” Sam replied, reaching for the cup and rinsing Castiel’s hair. “Can you give me a hand in a minute?”
“I’m not washing his junk.”
Sam glanced up at Dean and gave him the look that comment deserved. “Just help me get him out of the tub.”
Dean grumbled as he pulled off his jacket and threw it onto his bed. “You got Dad in and out of the shower without my help.”
“Dean, I had to devise a pulley system using towels and a pair of jeans,” Sam said, spreading one of the towels on the bathroom floor. “Just help me get him onto this and then you can go into the other room and your heterosexuality won’t be compromised by the scary, naked angel.”
Dean sighed as he moved into position to grab Castiel’s legs. “You are such a bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah. On three.”
Dean did retreat to the main room, the television clicking on and the volume cranking as Sam took the plug out of the bath and the water drained away noisily. “Don’t mind him,” Sam said to Cas as he rubbed him dry with the other towel. “He just thinks that every time he shows that he cares about someone, he loses man points.” Sam was actually a little annoyed at Dean - he was sure that his brother and the angel were, essentially, best friends. Cas deserved better than being the butt of jokes, and Sam was pretty sure that if he weren’t around Dean would just have dumped Cas on a flat surface somewhere and let the angel sort himself out in his own time. He frowned to himself as he re-covered the neat row of stitches in Castiel’s shoulder with gauze. “I’ll just grab you something to wear, hang on.”
It would be too much to hope that the motel would provide a robe or something, even one of those gross thin ones that felt like they were made out of paper. Sam dug out a t-shirt that was getting too small on him, and stole a pair of Dean’s underwear. The shirt was loose on Cas, but the underpants were a pretty good fit once Sam managed to get them on. “It’s weird seeing you without the coat,” Sam admitted as he tugged the shirt straight. “You look all normal and stuff. Do you need dinner or anything?” Cas shook his head slightly, and Sam raised his eyebrows. “Wow. At this rate you’ll tap-dancing in no time.” Sam crouched, and slung Cas over his shoulder before standing up slowly and carrying him to the main room. He tried to set Cas back down on the bed gently, but the angel bounced a little upon landing. Sam straightened up, and then paused. Castiel’s eyes were rolled back into his head, and he was completely still aside from the rise and fall of his chest.
Dean caught Sam’s stillness, and looked over. “He okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Sam reached up and pushed his bangs away from his face. “I think he’s just worn out.”
“Those friendship bracelets you made earlier must have really taken it out of him.”
Sam flopped down across the foot of Dean’s bed. “You’re just jealous we didn’t make you one.”
“So jealous you’re buying dinner to make it up to me,” Dean replied. “Come on, you good to go?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Just a minute.” It’d been a hectic day - watch an angel get stabbed around midnight, patch him up in the wee hours of the morning, meet up with Dean and drive across a state for most of the daylight hours, then stop and play a socially awkward nursemaid in a shitty motel room. Sam was more than ready for a hot meal and a chance to relax now that Cas was out of danger. But instead of following Dean out the door, Sam promptly fell asleep.
He was sitting on a wide lawn, in one of the parks near Stanford. It was warm, summery weather, and Sam knew that he was dreaming.
“Hello, Sam.”
Sam looked up at Castiel, back in his usual clothes, who was in turn looking around the park with interest. “Hey, Cas. Pull up a patch of grass.” Castiel looked down at the grass with an equal amount of interest, before sinking down gracefully to sit cross-legged next to Sam. He rested his elbows on his knees, slouching forward and watching the distant people as they moved through Sam’s subconscious. “Don’t you usually hang out in Dean’s dreams?”
“Dean is not asleep,” Castiel replied. “And I wanted to talk to you.” After a moment of thought he added, “Also, visiting your dreams is much easier now.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re covered in my grace. Saturated with it, for the moment, to the point where being around you is speeding my recovery.”
“Uh, sorry,” Sam replied. “You can take it back. I mean, if you can.”
Castiel looked over at Sam with a mild, calm look of amusement. “Consider it a gift. If not for your actions, I would be dead now. Again.”
Sam looked away and shifted. “So. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Nothing,” Castiel replied, following Sam’s gaze. “I just wanted to talk.” And then they sat in silence for a long while, which Sam thought spoke volumes about the weird almost-friendship they had. Eventually Castiel ran his fingers through the lush grass in front of his crossed legs and Sam turned to watch. It reminded him of the small pleasure he had taken in washing Castiel’s hair. “Today you were angry at Dean for not taking care of me,” Cas said bluntly.
“Yeah,” Sam replied. “You do a lot for us, we owe you so much.”
“You didn’t heal me because you wanted to repay a debt.”
Sam considered that for a long moment. “That’s true,” he said at last, and their conversation ended there. They sat for a long, peaceful while, with Castiel carding his fingers through the grass and Sam watching.
“I must rest now,” Castiel said abruptly, and was gone from the space beside Sam. Sam flopped back onto the warm grass, and stared up at the blue sky. Around him, the dream shifted.
~*~
Sam could vaguely remember Dean kicking him off his bed at some point in the night, and could remember crawling under the covers of his own bed. He woke up with one arm under Castiel’s head and the other wrapped around Castiel’s waist. He was pretty sure Cas was drooling on him. Sam tried to move away, but Cas let out a small noise of protest, and pressed his face more firmly against Sam’s chest.
“Hope that drool isn’t covering me with any more grace,” Sam mumbled.
“I just hope you two don’t get past cuddling before I get out the door,” Dean said over the noises of getting dressed.
Sam groaned. “Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean replied good-naturedly.
“Assbutt,” Cas muttered loudly. Dean huffed out a laugh, and headed out to hunt down some breakfast.
Sam tightened his arms around Castiel in a quick hug. “’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Mm,” Cas replied absently, a warm, soft weight of lazy angel. And they stayed like that for the whole morning.