The first time it happened it took Castiel by surprise.
He was trying to sleep in a dark alley, after a police officer had kicked him out of the dry, somewhat comfortable and even clean-ish bench of the park... and from the back door of the restaurant, the entrance of the City Bank and from the beautiful but melancholic and not-a-bit-realistic angel sculpture in front of the church.
Castiel didn't even know if they were different police officers or a particularly vicious one. Being used to feel the multiple and profound layers and layers of intricate personality traits within a soul by only being near them, the mere physical features of human faces were oh, so easily forgettable.
Maybe this was his punishment. Wander around endlessly, looking for a place to rest his head on.
Being unable to sleep in his current human condition was torturous enough to consider it, although he knew, of course, he deserved so much worse after the whole Metatron mess.
God he hated him. And he hated himself for being so gullible. Now all angels had fallen. He was powerless, defenceless, and (even Dean had seen this) useless.
He understood, or tried at least to understand Dean's position. The reasons he could have to shut the bunker's doors to him. He had no right to stay with them. He was no Man of Letters, no Legacy. It had being a family thing, of course... even if he had thought...
Castiel had just begun to drift away, being less and less aware of the filth around him, his eyelids falling down when a pair of drunks stumbled into his alley, singing and laughing.
Castiel growled at being started awake. His head hurt, his eyes felt heavy in his face, the emptiness of his stomach came back with a vengeance... he had been so close to actually sleep.
The loud laughing filled his ears and penetrated his skull.
Castiel remained in his place not daring to move. With luck they were there to... eh, take a leak, and they would leave soon. He certainly didn't want to be seen. Not by anyone who could call the police officer on him.
So he waited.
But they weren't leaving... or laughing anymore.
Castiel turned his head with curiosity and saw them in a tangle of limbs, kissing each other like their life depended on it. He saw them pressing each other's bodies against the walls, against themselves.
Little wet sounds were reaching his senses. Little moans and heavy breathings were growing louder and louder.
Castiel's hearth quickened its rhythmic beats.
He stared at the couple as they shovelled their hands in each other's pants and shirts.
He realized he was blushing when one of them got on his knees and took his partner on his mouth.
The time had stopped.
The ex-angel was breathing hard now, listening to the pleasured groans in the dark. His hands were sweating. He felt uncomfortable, quite uncomfortable; like the first time he had to defecate. But he didn't know what his body needed this time.
He was transfixed to the present; he forgot his hunger and his sleep.
When the couple started kissing again and one of them was being lifted in the air to be penetrated Castiel felt the bulge in his pants. He touched it lightly and felt a rush of blood coursing through his entire body. He knew what he had to do now.
Hesitating and doubtful he pressed his palm in his growing erection and started rubbing it gently.
Castiel closed his eyes at the feeling. It was so good. So, so... good.
The noises, the darkness, soon it wasn't enough to just rub. It didn't matter how fast he'd do it.
He needed more.
But he didn't know what to do. He knew how intercourse worked, of course, but he was alone now.
He thought about Dean. He would know what to do. He...
Castiel had barely grazed his penis whit his hand when he felt his muscles contracting and spasm.
With a guttural noise Castiel came for the first time ever.
He got the hang of it fairly quickly.
He learned the hard way not to do it in public. And, after an interesting talk with a priest in charge of a nice shelter he found, he learned not to talk about it either.
He understood then, Dean's need of porn and the value of privacy.
Some weeks later, after finally finding a job at a local store, Castiel thought for the first time (nervously and expectantly) about having intercourse with someone else, with actually another human being.
His boss, a busy but gentle woman, had invited him to a date.
Or so he had thought.
It turned out she wanted him to babysit while she was on a date.
Oh, well. At least he'd seen Dean Winchester. He was here on a hunt, of course, but it had been nice seeing him again.
Than night, though, nothing went right.
The baby girl he was supposed to watch over wouldn't stop crying and he was afraid she had a fever. He was about to take her to a hospital when one of the deadliest angels he could think of came looking for him; to "stop his suffering" or so he had said. He would have died (proving once more how utterly useless he was) if it hadn't been for Dean.
After that odyssey, he had cleaned his boss' house and waited for her return; which she did a little after midnight.
She thanked him and he left. Dean offered him a ride, but Castiel had nowhere to go. No home yet. So he gave Dean the store address where he did the inventory and slept in.
"You're kiddin', right?" Dean looked up at the store from his car seat.
"It's only temporary." Muttered Castiel as he got out of the vehicle.
"Wait, Cas..." The former angel stopped before closing the car's door. Dean wanted nothing more than to ask him to come to the bunker with him and Sam. To help him get through his newly acquired humanity. He wanted nothing more than to be there for his friend. But his brother's life was first. Always. After a little pause he made an effort to smile.
"Let me take you to a motel or something," said Dean, and then he shook his head, "that came out wrong."
Castiel frowned.
"I'd rather spend my money in food. I can sleep here, I don't mind."
"Get in." Dean said forcefully with a movement of his head.
It was really late at night when they finally found a vacant hotel, or early in the morning depending on who you asked.
They were both tired.
Castiel fell asleep almost as soon as he laid down his head. Dean lasted a little bit longer, with his back to the headboard, thinking.
That's why, next morning, Castiel woke up first: to a comfortable bed, a pillow and clean blankets. He opened his eyes and smiled at the cosy comfort he felt.
When was the last time he had slept in a bed? A real bed anyway?
It had been before his job. At a shelter a few states away from there.
He sat up and looked at the bed next to him.
Dean was there. He looked so tired even in his sleep. The former angel looked at him and couldn't help feeling sad, angry, betrayed, and so, so guilty.
It was his fault, all his own fault. He had no home now.
Heaven was closed, and he couldn't go back to the bunker with Dean. He deserved that, he knew, that and more. He didn't deserve Dean...
His thoughts were interrupted as usual by his body needs.
He had never considered all the bothersome processes humans had to go through every single day of their lives. Eating wasn't that bad, when you could afford an actual meal. But the rest of it... it was uncomfortable, to say the least.
He got up and as quietly as he could and entered the bathroom. He peed, washed his hands, and then realized he didn't have his toothbrush with him. He looked himself in the mirror. He wasn't an angel anymore. But he was learning to be human.
There were some towels under the sink and so, he chose to take a shower.
He really loved showers.
With the hot water relaxing his muscles, he thought about the previous night, and how close he had been to dying (again), and about his date. He'd been so naive. How could anyone like him? Genuinely like him? Dean did, didn't he? He acted like he did, but... he had kicked him out when he needed him the most.
Sad, angry, and a little hopeful he started touching himself. Of all the places, he knew the bathroom was private enough, and a shower the best time to masturbate.
He really loved showers.
Dean woke up early. But apparently Cas had beat him to it.
He heard the shower run and groaned a little. Of course Cas would take a shower first thing in the morning. He had been homeless, for how long now? Months?
Regret, guilt, anger, shame, all these feelings ran freely within his soul. He had done this to him, to his best friend… in his most desperate hour.
He had to. He knew he had to.
But, what could have happened to the former angel all this past months? He'd been alone, with no money and no real name.
He passed his hand through his hair and into his face. Everything sucked. But Cas had come through, hadn't he? He had a job now. Dean snorted. A warrior of God selling hot-dogs and cleaning bathrooms.
He got up hastily. He couldn't help him. Not now, at least. There was a war between angels to stop and a douchebag in heaven to kill... He and Sam had their work cut out for them.
He went into the bathroom… and stopped short.
Yes, Cas was in the shower. But he was moaning.
The rhythmic splashes, the heavy breathing, the guttural noises he made were amplified in the small bathroom.
And Dean didn't move.
He knew he had to leave, or make a sound to let him know of his presence. But how many times could you witness an actual angel of the lord choking the chicken?
Dean smiled.
His friend had grown.
He remembered the night before they had confronted Raphael, not so long ago. He had taken Cas to a "Den of Iniquity", as he had called it. The poor angel had been terrified. He imagined his now human friend there. Would he let himself go this time?
"Dean..."
The soft moan startled him and he shivered. Gosh, his voice...
"Dean..."
Wait, what?
"Dean, Dean, Dean..."
The rhythm was getting faster and faster, the deep voice was getting lower and more constricted.
Dean felt the little hairs in his neck stand. He shouldn't have stayed. He shouldn't be listening to this...
"Please, Dean..."
Dean panicked. He had to go. He had to go now! But he still didn't move. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
"Dean!"
Cas didn't shout it out. He merely growled it. But it had been deafening in Dean's ears.
What the hell?
What had just happened?
He left the bathroom as fast as he could as quietly as possible with his hearth beating in his ears and a deep warmth creeping in his cheeks.
Cas... Cas had...
He couldn't think.
He had never... well... no!
He wouldn't think about it.
He shouldn't have been there in the first place.
Dean shook his head.
It never happened.
A/N: Thank you very much to Timetest. There were a lot of spelling mistakes in this story! I hope they're all gone now. But I'm glad you liked it anyhow! A big hug and thank you to SorayaWinchesterHolmes, mrsgunsageand Guest for their early support.