Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five or four through yet. Some mild language. Slight implying of Dean/Cas, can't have a humour story without it.
If he hadn't fallen in love with Dean like Dean was just another dear brother of Heaven, he wouldn't be in this mess of a situation.
He had been slowly adjusting to normal human-life-behaviours when he chose to remain on Earth (out of said love) when it happened. It had been almost a year since the End and in that time he had added Bobby and Sam into his ranks of love. And then he began to cherish all fellow humans. In fact, it was when he first consciously had that actual thought that the damnation he caused to himself occurred.
He was walking to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for his earthly garrison (like he usually did in an attempt to preserve a ritual of a 'normal, apple-pie life' as Dean called it; they had tried out the real deal that only lasted a few months despite their best tries since they all got bored with the monotony). It was right as dawn began, approximately 5:23 a.m., and Castiel was filled with foreboding apprehension.
He unwisely shook it off and prepared the coffee machine to be a little bit stronger than usual (since their latest case had been exhausting so far) and made some jasmine tea for himself. It was much sweeter than any form of coffee either Winchester brother could stand to look at and he himself enjoy still. Once the delicious scent reached his nose, he smiled faintly and poured out his favourite drink into a wide blue cup that he always drank out of (Dean said it matched his eyes and Sam just smiled). He used both his hands to encircle it in his grasp, inhaling deeply, and went to sit down at the small table to enjoy his tea before his grumbling room mates could ruin the moment when it happened.
His right foot (symbolism of righteousness and holiness, no doubt) caught on a chair that appeared out of nowhere.
He tripped (much unlike his graceful self even in a vessel's body) and fell to the ground.
A burning pain that originated from his offended foot shocked his whole body as the feeling of fire licked everywhere else. It didn't seem to be as painful as Anna described, but then again, he supposed it was because he didn't have such a long fall. Still, he hissed loud enough to wake Dean and Sam.
He could hear the sounds of sheets crackling as his two other occupants woke up and the slap of their feet as they quickly crossed the floor towards the source. "Cas, you alright?" the elder sibling asked, worry evident in his sleepy voice.
The lights flicked on. "Cas, what happened?" the younger followed up.
Castiel sat up weakly with a slight groan. The pain was receding now but he was still a little sore. He rubbed at his shoulder blades that felt a little empty and hurt now, as if he was missing something that had been ripped out of him suddenly. My wings... He felt very ashamed in the sight of the ones he loved for being so weak and vulnerable now. His angel mojo, as Dean would say, would be next to useless and so would he be too. He ducked his head. "I fell,"
"Oh, thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean said with a snort, sounding much more awake and normal.
Castiel looked up and rephrased his previous and too simple statement for clarification. "No, you misunderstand. I fell, I have lost my grace."
"Yeah, that tends to be the reason why people fall- or angels for that matter," Sam added, stating it like it was a fact despite his small smile.
Castiel shook his head sadly. "I am no longer an Angel of the Lord..." he murmured softly, waiting to hear their reactions with resignation.
The two brothers shared a look, lips twitching with shared amusement. Dean turned back to their angel first with a smirk. "Hey, um, Cas? You didn't fall from grace just now, buddy."
Castiel tilted his head to the side, very much confused. "But the chair came from nowhere..." he protested, beginning to stand up and favouring his right foot.
"Dude, you were walking in the dark," Sam supplied. "Things seem like they come from nowhere."
"And pain consumed me from the feet up," he continued, switching his gaze to Dean again.
"You stubbed your toe. That shit tends to hurt," he said with a gesture to the body part. Castiel followed the movement and wiggled his toes with a small wince. He sighed. It was going to be harder to prove to them the validity of the situation than he thought.
"What about the fire that burned me like holy anger?"
"Your tea must have burned you when it spilled," Sam pointed out.
Castiel eyed them in his familiar manner unblinkingly, searching their souls to see if he could find the reason why they were so stubbornly refusing to believe the very likely and completely to be expected situation that he fell. It wasn't exactly a choice of his (maybe God saw him becoming too human and forced him to complete the transformation instead of living in limbo between both realms) but that didn't explain their complete denial of it. At least not Sam's, he knew Dean well enough to assume that he would be afraid that Castiel would blame him and leave him. He couldn't imagine ever leaving Dean, he was happy with him and Sam.
"Well, what about my wings?"
Dean gave a crooked, lop-sided grin. "Yeah, they're pretty amazing, aren't they?" Sam punched him in the arm with a disapproving glare. "Ow, Sammy. I mean, what about them?"
"My shoulders hurt where they should be," he said, eyeing them both to see if they would disagree with that.
"Take off your shirt and let's see what happened, then,"
"Don't sound so eager, Dean," Sam teased.
"Shut up," he responded sounding a little unfocused. He took in all of Castiel's back once the angel (or former angel) complied to his commands and he gently pressed into the wounds on his back, noticing the blood and flinch that followed after. "Holy shit, Cas. You broke my cup I bought you!"
"Dean," Sam growled. "That's not the point. How did you manage to land on your back, Castiel?"
"I-I don't know," he replied, closing his eyes while he tried to pinpoint the spot in his memory. "It hurts, please don't touch me anymore," he whimpered softly.
"No shit, Sherlock. That was glass you embedded into your back." Dean said a little more gently than his words implied. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up. Hey, Sam, go get me some tweezers and a wash cloth and our stitching supplies,"
"Why me?" Sam half-whined, half-grumbled.
"Because I have the steadier hands," he said with a winning smile. "And don't bitch so much,"
"I think it's because you don't want me to feel up your boyfriend," Sam grumbled to himself, fetching the supplies for his lazy brother. "Here,"
"Thanks," he said without taking his eyes off the now seated, still half-naked Castiel. "This might hurt a little bit," he warned, plucking the largest and deepest shard out with practised ease. Castiel grunted a little bit as Dean wiped away the blood that spurted out. He wet his thread before threading it through the eye and closed up that wound, muttering inaudibly to himself. Slowly, with the help of Sam's sharp eye, all the pieces were found and his larger cuts tied. There was a moment of silence as Castiel put his shirt back on and turned around to face them. He looked thoughtful for some time before sighing.
"I guess this means that I haven't fallen?" He said with an appropriate amount of embarrassment.
The brothers looked at each other again. "Dude, he's your angel, you tell him," Sam said quickly, throwing the towel under Castiel's curious gaze.
"He's not my angel," Dean muttered weakly. "Alright, I'll be the man here." He straightened his shoulders and Sam pretended he didn't hear the insult. "Uh, Castiel, technically when you decided to stay...here, with us, you fell then." He paused and waited for a reply but Castiel's face only darkened and remained unclear. "Cas...Cas?"
"Are you sure?" he asked suddenly.
Sam gave a side-long glance at Dean before answering. "Yeah, we're pretty sure,"
His blue eyes looked at them both for a long time. "But it didn't hurt..." he said innocently.
Dean first snorted and then contained it to twitchy lips before he just laughed out right. Sam growled at him. "Dean! Don't laugh, this isn't funny, it's serious."
"Yeah, seriously funny," he said with his crooked grin. "I mean, you really think that good things always have to hurt? Man, I have a lot to teach you about pleasure yet. Wait 'til Bobby hears this," he said to no one in particular. "So, when's breakfast?"
Good ol' Dean, thinking with his stomach. Reviews?