Clad Only in a Sock
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Clad Only in a Sock
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel
Category: Gen, Crack, H/C, Humor
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: S4 in general
Summary: Something bad happens to Castiel, and he comes to Dean for help. This story makes absolutely no sense, so don't even try.
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note:See here, here, and here for the background on this, if you really want to. But read the fic first for maximum effect. (The third link also has a ficlet in the comments that gives me happy squiggles, so definitely check that out.)
Clad Only in a Sock
Dean was always pretty annoyed when Castiel popped up out of nowhere and demanded his attention, staring at him with those big eyes that expected so very, very much of him and gave back so very little, calm and cool and distant. It happened rather a lot. The most annoying thing was that he was sort of even maybe getting used to it, a little.
No, scratch that. The most annoying thing was that he was beginning to miss the feather-brained freak when he didn't show up for a little while.
It was, therefore, with both annoyance and relief that he greeted Castiel when he stepped out of a diner, full of tenderloin and onion rings, and found the trench-coated angel standing by the Impala. He had his back to Dean and the diner, staring out at the road and the cars whizzing past.
"Hey, Cassiopeia," Dean said as he approached, because astronomy jokes were totally manly and he was allowed, as long as it was for the cause of making fun of Castiel. "What brings you here this time? Damsel in distress? Town in danger? Just need to unburden your angelic soul again?"
Castiel turned sideways, showing Dean his profile, the little frown on his face. "No, none of those. I... Well, I... Dean..."
Dean paused, his forehead wrinkling. He'd never heard that tone from his familiar angel before. The guy sounded...upset. Unsure of himself. Too quiet. It was entirely unlike him.
He looked closer, and then he saw the way Cas was hunching in on himself, shoulders slumped, eyes down. He looked...
Dean strode forward, steps quick and angry. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, ignoring the silent flinch, and pulled him around to face him. Then he gaped at the other man, completely speechless and boiling with rage.
Castiel had. A black. Eye.
More bruises, too, lower on that side of his face, but the eye was hugely bruised, puffy, red and blue and purple and green and sickly yellow, swollen completely shut. It looked incredibly painful. His other eye, the one he'd shown in profile, looked back at Dean sheepishly, then lowered again.
"Who did this to you?" Dean growled.
"Dean..."
"Was it a demon? A monster? Some other nasty? I mean, it had to be supernatural to hurt an angel, right?" Dean's mind was spinning, struggling to come up with an explanation for that beaten look in Castiel's eyes, as if he'd been, as if he'd been...
Dean gasped. "Was it another angel, one of your brothers? Oh, God, Cas, was it Uriel?" That totally made sense. How dare he, that bastard!
Castiel sighed, his shoulders slumping even further under Dean's hands.
Dean's growl rumbled through his chest, deep and black. "Son of a bitch! I'll kill him. I'll rip his lungs out!" He reached out one hand and very carefully, very gently touched just the edge of that gigantic bruise. Cas winced slightly but didn't draw away. "Damn it, Cas. Damn it all to hell!"
The angel's mouth drew into a tight, grim line. "It wasn't Uriel, Dean."
Dean frowned, trying to catch the lie in the other man's eyes. But Castiel had never lied to him. He didn't even know if angels were capable of lying. "Who was it, then?"
"You're going to have to let this go. There's nothing you can do to avenge me."
"There's gotta be something, man. Just tell me who it was, for God's sake! You don't even know half of what I can do."
Castiel just looked at him, silent and frozen.
Dean finally realized that he was gripping the guy's shoulders probably a bit too hard, pushing harshly on someone who had obviously already been pushed hard enough for one day. He let go and stood back a little, spreading his hands, trying to lower his voice, make it soothing and kind. It was damn hard, but he tried. "Just tell me. Please."
Castiel tilted his head slightly to stare at him, his unblackened eye squinting a little. "It was a foot."
Dean blinked at him.
"A foot?"
"Yes. A very large foot, clad only in a sock. It came out of the sky and stepped on me."
"You were...you were stepped on. By a gigantic foot."
"Yes. Rather hard. It hurt quite a lot. For a time I couldn't move."
"That's...that's..."
"Strange."
Dean couldn't seem to stop blinking. "And awful," he added quickly. "That's awful, Cas. You poor guy." He gripped the angel's shoulders again, rubbing gently through the trench coat.
Castiel gave him a grateful look, some of that beatenness fading out of his eyes. "Thank you, Dean."
"That's a terrible thing to happen to a person."
"It was. I've been feeling...well, I suppose I've been feeling traumatized. Since it happened. It was just such a large foot. It's not fun being stepped on, Dean."
"Well, yeah of course. A foot coming out of the blue, stepping on you, of course that would be traumatizing." Dean nodded quickly, finding it very easy to make his voice soothing and kind now. Random misfortunes...man, they sucked. He rubbed Castiel's shoulders some more. "Any idea where the foot went? Because I'll...I'll kill it, man, I swear. If possible."
Castiel shook his head morosely. "It just disappeared. After stepping on me. It happened so quickly, Dean. I didn't have time to react." His chin quivered, just a little.
"Well, no, of course not. Who would have? A foot stepping on you. Not much you can do about that."
The angel nodded, gratitude shining in his dark blue eye. He had just needed someone to reassure him, poor guy. Dean was strangely glad that he had been able to do it, that Castiel had come to him. It felt good to be able to offer that to someone else when it seemed like Dean was the one needing it all the time now, hating his weakness but unable to do anything about it. For awhile longer they just stood there, Dean rubbing Castiel shoulders, Castiel soaking in the comfort that Dean offered so openly and generously.
"Well, I guess it's lucky that you got out of it just with some bruises, huh?" Dean said brightly. "Could have snapped your neck."
Castiel slumped again, lowering his eyes. Damn it. Dean shouldn't have tried to make light of the situation, however kindly he meant it.
"Hey, hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. Would you like a hug?"
Cas's face brightened immediately, and he nodded. Dean pulled him into a warm, tight hug, pressing the side of his face against Castiel's uninjured cheek. "It's gonna be okay, buddy. These things happen to all of us. You're going to be all right."
Castiel squeezed him back for a long moment. Dean was careful not to break the embrace first, letting the angel hang on for as long as he needed to. At last Castiel let go and stood back, giving Dean a faint, genuine smile that seemed to light up the entire sky. It looked like his bruises might already be healing. Maybe he hadn't been able to use his angel healing-mojo when he was feeling so down, or something, but now that he was feeling better it was coming back to him. Or whatever.
"Thank you, Dean."
"Hey, you're welcome, dude. Anytime."
Castiel's smile broadened slightly, even more dazzling, and he vanished in a flash of wings.
Sam meandered up behind Dean, rubbing his stomach and burping quietly. "What was that all about?"
Dean turned to give him a slight shrug and a sideways grin. "Ah, no big deal. Cas was just feeling a bit...stepped on. You know how it goes."
Sam nodded in easy understanding, and they got into the Impala and drove away.
(End)
Title: Clad Only in a Sock
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel
Category: Gen, Crack, H/C, Humor
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: S4 in general
Summary: Something bad happens to Castiel, and he comes to Dean for help. This story makes absolutely no sense, so don't even try.
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note:See here, here, and here for the background on this, if you really want to. But read the fic first for maximum effect. (The third link also has a ficlet in the comments that gives me happy squiggles, so definitely check that out.)
Clad Only in a Sock
Dean was always pretty annoyed when Castiel popped up out of nowhere and demanded his attention, staring at him with those big eyes that expected so very, very much of him and gave back so very little, calm and cool and distant. It happened rather a lot. The most annoying thing was that he was sort of even maybe getting used to it, a little.
No, scratch that. The most annoying thing was that he was beginning to miss the feather-brained freak when he didn't show up for a little while.
It was, therefore, with both annoyance and relief that he greeted Castiel when he stepped out of a diner, full of tenderloin and onion rings, and found the trench-coated angel standing by the Impala. He had his back to Dean and the diner, staring out at the road and the cars whizzing past.
"Hey, Cassiopeia," Dean said as he approached, because astronomy jokes were totally manly and he was allowed, as long as it was for the cause of making fun of Castiel. "What brings you here this time? Damsel in distress? Town in danger? Just need to unburden your angelic soul again?"
Castiel turned sideways, showing Dean his profile, the little frown on his face. "No, none of those. I... Well, I... Dean..."
Dean paused, his forehead wrinkling. He'd never heard that tone from his familiar angel before. The guy sounded...upset. Unsure of himself. Too quiet. It was entirely unlike him.
He looked closer, and then he saw the way Cas was hunching in on himself, shoulders slumped, eyes down. He looked...
Dean strode forward, steps quick and angry. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, ignoring the silent flinch, and pulled him around to face him. Then he gaped at the other man, completely speechless and boiling with rage.
Castiel had. A black. Eye.
More bruises, too, lower on that side of his face, but the eye was hugely bruised, puffy, red and blue and purple and green and sickly yellow, swollen completely shut. It looked incredibly painful. His other eye, the one he'd shown in profile, looked back at Dean sheepishly, then lowered again.
"Who did this to you?" Dean growled.
"Dean..."
"Was it a demon? A monster? Some other nasty? I mean, it had to be supernatural to hurt an angel, right?" Dean's mind was spinning, struggling to come up with an explanation for that beaten look in Castiel's eyes, as if he'd been, as if he'd been...
Dean gasped. "Was it another angel, one of your brothers? Oh, God, Cas, was it Uriel?" That totally made sense. How dare he, that bastard!
Castiel sighed, his shoulders slumping even further under Dean's hands.
Dean's growl rumbled through his chest, deep and black. "Son of a bitch! I'll kill him. I'll rip his lungs out!" He reached out one hand and very carefully, very gently touched just the edge of that gigantic bruise. Cas winced slightly but didn't draw away. "Damn it, Cas. Damn it all to hell!"
The angel's mouth drew into a tight, grim line. "It wasn't Uriel, Dean."
Dean frowned, trying to catch the lie in the other man's eyes. But Castiel had never lied to him. He didn't even know if angels were capable of lying. "Who was it, then?"
"You're going to have to let this go. There's nothing you can do to avenge me."
"There's gotta be something, man. Just tell me who it was, for God's sake! You don't even know half of what I can do."
Castiel just looked at him, silent and frozen.
Dean finally realized that he was gripping the guy's shoulders probably a bit too hard, pushing harshly on someone who had obviously already been pushed hard enough for one day. He let go and stood back a little, spreading his hands, trying to lower his voice, make it soothing and kind. It was damn hard, but he tried. "Just tell me. Please."
Castiel tilted his head slightly to stare at him, his unblackened eye squinting a little. "It was a foot."
Dean blinked at him.
"A foot?"
"Yes. A very large foot, clad only in a sock. It came out of the sky and stepped on me."
"You were...you were stepped on. By a gigantic foot."
"Yes. Rather hard. It hurt quite a lot. For a time I couldn't move."
"That's...that's..."
"Strange."
Dean couldn't seem to stop blinking. "And awful," he added quickly. "That's awful, Cas. You poor guy." He gripped the angel's shoulders again, rubbing gently through the trench coat.
Castiel gave him a grateful look, some of that beatenness fading out of his eyes. "Thank you, Dean."
"That's a terrible thing to happen to a person."
"It was. I've been feeling...well, I suppose I've been feeling traumatized. Since it happened. It was just such a large foot. It's not fun being stepped on, Dean."
"Well, yeah of course. A foot coming out of the blue, stepping on you, of course that would be traumatizing." Dean nodded quickly, finding it very easy to make his voice soothing and kind now. Random misfortunes...man, they sucked. He rubbed Castiel's shoulders some more. "Any idea where the foot went? Because I'll...I'll kill it, man, I swear. If possible."
Castiel shook his head morosely. "It just disappeared. After stepping on me. It happened so quickly, Dean. I didn't have time to react." His chin quivered, just a little.
"Well, no, of course not. Who would have? A foot stepping on you. Not much you can do about that."
The angel nodded, gratitude shining in his dark blue eye. He had just needed someone to reassure him, poor guy. Dean was strangely glad that he had been able to do it, that Castiel had come to him. It felt good to be able to offer that to someone else when it seemed like Dean was the one needing it all the time now, hating his weakness but unable to do anything about it. For awhile longer they just stood there, Dean rubbing Castiel shoulders, Castiel soaking in the comfort that Dean offered so openly and generously.
"Well, I guess it's lucky that you got out of it just with some bruises, huh?" Dean said brightly. "Could have snapped your neck."
Castiel slumped again, lowering his eyes. Damn it. Dean shouldn't have tried to make light of the situation, however kindly he meant it.
"Hey, hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. Would you like a hug?"
Cas's face brightened immediately, and he nodded. Dean pulled him into a warm, tight hug, pressing the side of his face against Castiel's uninjured cheek. "It's gonna be okay, buddy. These things happen to all of us. You're going to be all right."
Castiel squeezed him back for a long moment. Dean was careful not to break the embrace first, letting the angel hang on for as long as he needed to. At last Castiel let go and stood back, giving Dean a faint, genuine smile that seemed to light up the entire sky. It looked like his bruises might already be healing. Maybe he hadn't been able to use his angel healing-mojo when he was feeling so down, or something, but now that he was feeling better it was coming back to him. Or whatever.
"Thank you, Dean."
"Hey, you're welcome, dude. Anytime."
Castiel's smile broadened slightly, even more dazzling, and he vanished in a flash of wings.
Sam meandered up behind Dean, rubbing his stomach and burping quietly. "What was that all about?"
Dean turned to give him a slight shrug and a sideways grin. "Ah, no big deal. Cas was just feeling a bit...stepped on. You know how it goes."
Sam nodded in easy understanding, and they got into the Impala and drove away.
(End)