|Problems in Flight
Author: clautchy PM
Wing!Cas. A series of ficlets and oneshots featuring the troubles of an angel with visible wings.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Castiel & Dean W. - Chapters: 20 - Words: 31,857 - Reviews: 121 - Favs: 102 - Follows: 173 - Updated: 12-08-12 - Published: 09-23-12 - id: 8551425
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It had been raining for two weeks.
The torrential weather refused to ease, roads remained closed, areas became flooded, and the Winchesters found themselves stuck. The ceiling of their motel room leaked constantly, Dean forced to sleep on the sofa as his bed was underneath one of the cracks. It was hardly any use attempting to drive. Noon was as dark as midnight, the thick fog refused to rise and the small bodies of water forming in the roads were transforming into rivers.
It was simply Mother Nature playing out her role. There were earthquakes, hurricanes and bush fires, and the unrelenting rain was no different. It was forecast to rain for another two weeks. There was nothing the boys could do, nothing supernatural about a weather phenomenon, but it didn't stop them from complaining.
Dean's phone clogged with water.
Similarly, Sam's laptop was underneath a leak. It stopped working.
Baby had mould growing on the rim of her windows. Dean was devastated.
Bringing food back from the convenience store was the daily nightmare, and Dean was even more devastated to find his beloved pie declared inedible, Sam unable to protect each shopping bag while making the run back to the motel. Dean repaid his brother with soggy 'rabbit food'. It was not a pretty sight.
All in all, both brothers were bitter.
Dean had made a home of his couch, snuggling in the three quilts draped over the fabric, four pillows tucked underneath him with a small table right beside him, filled with food, Jack and porn. Sam was disgusted by his brother's habits, but after two weeks of staying in a leaky room, he could empathise. He wondered how long it had been since Dean had even left his fortitude of comfort.
Lazily, he flicked through the channels, eventually pausing on a repeat of a Joss Whedon show. Firefly, or something. Ignoring Dean, who was casually flicking through Busty Asian Beauties, he focused on the episode, trying to work out which character was which, who the Alliance was... It was slowly making more sense as he continued watching.
"Hey, you gonna go buy more food?" Dean asked, interrupting Sam.
Sam exhaled deeply, growing frustrated, "How about you buy the food, this time? I've been doing it for the last week."
"I'm your big brother. Do as I say."
Sam paused momentarily, realising Dean, despite having devoured a roast chicken, two apple pies and an entire crate of candy, was still hungry for more food. "Why is it that when you have nothing to waste your time with, you default to food?"
"Food's good." Dean noted, "Can't criticise me for something that ain't wrong."
Sam pursed his lips, "I'm still not buying you more junk. If you want anything, you can peel away those layers you're hiding underneath." Sam got up, crossing the room to Dean who tensed. Sam tugged on the doona but Dean snatched it back.
"I'm not wearing any pants."
"You sicken me." Sam groaned, letting go immediately. Returning to his bed, he focused back to the television, doing his very best to ignore Dean's presence.
Dean, on the other hand, grew agitated by the leaks, dripping from the ceiling onto the half-full bucket on what was once his own bed. Each fat drop held its own sound, echoing within its plastic surround and the rhythm remained uninterrupted as droplets continued to fall down. Dark stains were forming around the cracks in the ceiling.
After giving the plastic bucket that had stolen his bed a well-deserved scowl, he glanced around the room with haste: All food within reach had been eaten; the rain pounding on the rackety window increased, causing Sam to turn the volume up on the television; and the fridge was too far away. If Dean wanted food, he would have to take the initiative.
With a loud groan, he thrust his hands underneath him, searching for his jeans that he had discarded a while ago. His hand brushed against a crusty sock. It wasn't pleasant. Pushing the sock towards the end of the sofa, he found his jeans which had been lodged in between the two cushions. Dean was acutely aware that Sam was silently judging him from afar, so he attempted to be as subtle as possible to put on his jeans, although dressing yourself with two heavy doonas constricting your movement proved to be far more difficult than Dean expected. In all, it took ten minutes for the simple task to be completed.
Finally, he rolled out of his layers, stretching his back like a man who had recently been healed of paralysis. He heard a slight intake of air from Sam; of course the guy was trying not to laugh. Finding a clean pair of socks, he pulled them on, mentally reminding himself to buy tissues, before slipping into his shoes. Adjusting his shirt, he snatched Sam's wallet off the kitchen counter and the still-damp umbrella leaning against the front door, "I'll be back soon."
Dean jogged down the hallway, opening the door to his fate. He stood outside, his only protection being the small shade cloth across the front. He was already feeling the rain spraying over him, the wind strong. Opening his umbrella, he began the trek towards the convenience store.
How could there be so much damn rain?! Rain spat in Dean's eyes and with each hurried step a gallon of water sprayed onto the back of his jeans while the wind made the umbrella pointless. He wouldn't have stopped worried, if the sight of familiar black feathers caught his eye. Stopping in the middle of the empty road, he peered into the fog to see wings of a familiar friend becoming soaked in the rain.
Knowing there was no use in avoiding the rain, considering Dean was drenched as it was, he jogged towards Cas, halting a few yards behind him. He frowned at the sight, wondering what on earth the angel was up to.
Similar to a fly rubbing its feet together, Cas rubbed both dripping wings together rapidly, only moments later to spread out his wings and shake them quickly. He repeated the task, Dean thinking he looked more ridiculous by the second. Then Dean frowned, cocking his head to the side as he realised what Cas was doing.
"Feeling squeaky clean, Cas?" Dean called out.
Cas turned around instantly, his wings frozen. Dean couldn't help but laugh, noticing his shocked expression. He jogged up to Cas, who stared at him with horror, "You're like one of those little sparrows. Fluffin' your wings up like that."
"It was raining. Wings are hard to maintain. I took the opportunity." Cas grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his soaking trench coat.
"Right," Dean said, "Let's get undercover. Good thing no one is here, or you'd get weird looks from people."
Cas shrugged, following Dean to the other side of the road where there was shelter. The majority of shops were closed, except for – thankfully – the convenience store.
Once under shelter, Dean was sprayed with even more water, Cas deciding it was the best time to shake his wings. Dean spluttered, "Urgh. Dude."
"I'll wait here for you," Cas replied, ignoring Dean's complaint. With a groan, Dean entered the store, picking up treats, snacks, drink, porn and food. He snatched a box of tissues, too, throwing them all on the counter, feeling vaguely sorry for the man at the register. He didn't look too happy to be working.
Taking the plastic bags, he walked back outside, only to find himself standing in the middle of his motel room. Cas stood behind him.
"Give me some notice, Jesus Christ," Dean muttered, dumping the bags on the kitchen counter.
Sam glanced up at them both. He was still watching Firefly, "Hey Cas. You look cold."
Dean snorted, "He was havin' a bath, Sammy."
Sam frowned, "What?"
"It is the easiest way, Dean!" Cas retaliated, "My wings require special attention."
Dean only laughed, unpacking the food. Without any shame, he stocked up his small table by his sofa, replacing his old porn mag with a new one, dumping the box of tissues on top. He would need to clean that sock.
Cas looked confused. It was clear he didn't have much of an idea about Dean's habits, but he gathered it was something he had no interest in, judging by Sam's disgusted expression. "When are you two going to leave this place?"
"As soon as the rain eases," Sam answered, "We aren't happy being here."
"I'm starting to like it," Dean piped up, crawling back into the fortress of solitude. Cas, who hadn't seen what Dean had done with the sofa, stared at him with confusion before the corners of his lips twitched into a slight smile. Any sight of a usually buff and muscular man who did his best to assert his masculinity was always a laugh when he was snuggled in between layers of floral doonas.
"Dean, you don't stop complaining."
"I wouldn't complain if you had just bought more food instead of making me get up."
Sam rolled his eyes, glancing to Cas, "So what brings you here?"
Cas shifted uncomfortably, "No reason. You two boys offer good company."
Dean grinned, "I know."
Sam, considering himself the nicer brother, offered Cas a drink and a seat. For the rest of the night, Sam and Cas bonded over the wonders of Firefly while Dean guzzled down Smirnoff and devoured an entire apple pie independently. Dean had kicked off his pants too, enjoying his new found love of freedom.
Thankfully, all three decided to forget their last encounter. Dean was happy, Cas was... Cas, and Sam wasn't going to bring up something that could make their moods vanish. Who knew, that it took two weeks of torrential weather to bring a bit of joy. Sure, there were complaints, there was a leaky ceiling, and mould in the Impala, but other than that, it was alright. They were cut off from the world, and they could simply enjoy each other's company without the weight of responsibility hanging off them.
Then Dean found the crusty sock and forgot he wasn't wearing pants.
AN: I wasn't really aiming for laughs and pranks with this chapter. The bullet point in my notebook was 'Cas washing his wings - birdlike' so I simply incorporated that into this. I simply find the idea of Cas doing that amusing, and plausible.
If you didn't get the last line, it means Dean finds his jizz sock, remembers he wants to put it in the laundry/wash basket, gets up to do so, then by that stage he realises he's not wearing pants. Poor Sam. Less so Cas, considering he reconstructed Dean so I doubt he has issues.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. More prompts would be good, because I am ticking off my list fairly quickly. Any suggestions to improve this story? I'm liking the progress but I don't know how far I should go. I'm wondering if I should maybe put more Destiel in it - because I can do that - or if it is good as it is. Suggestions, man. Good stuff.