Author's Note: [Another drabble, inspired by driverpicksthexmusic on tumblr, we were on skype and well... somehow this became a thing? All your fault T]
Dean is singing in the shower when Castiel makes an unexpected landing.
The stratosphere was unkind today, the ice matting his feathers together wasn't helping his situation. Closing his eyes against the wind he focused on his charge, 'Dean Winchester…Dean Winchester.' Castiel repeated it in his head, trying to focus around the fizzling of his rapidly decreasing grace. He was cut off from heaven, the grace had no renewable source and he feared he would become human. With a small almost unnoticeable splashing of water he landed and, with a smirk, he opened his eyes, proud of the fact he hadn't stumbled upon impact -it was becoming an even more regular occurrence lately, without being able to fine tune his aim through the static and chatter, flying was much more difficult.
Dean is standing in front of him, "Skin-a-ma-rink-my-dink-is-pink," His voice was echoing loudly off off the cracked tile walls, dissolving any sound he had made upon landing, and he was facing the steady stream of water. His hands worked through his short hair as water angled over him, soaking into the tan overcoat of his protector. "Bu-uut after I see you, it's blueeee," Suds ran down the back of his neck and face, taking clean to a whole new level, "I wanna' fuu-uuuck youu!"
Castiel's head inclines slightly, part of out of curiosity, the other part to avoid the stream of water coming for his face. The eldest Winchester turned with eyes braced tightly against invading suds and Cas eyed down the defunct shower head, blinking into a spray of water and suds. His eyes sting for a moment before it goes away, before he feels nothing again. The sound of a gurgling, "DINK-A-DINK", pulls his attention back to the moment and his eyes once again press over the cords of his charges body.
He remains silent, watching the slide of bubbles down the others inclined neck before he feels the need to speak up. There was always something so enchanting about watching a person when they were truly unaware in moments like these, it was like you were invading on a tiny private part of themselves that no one else got to see. It was exhilarating. "Hello, Dean."
Dean recognizes the voice a moment too late, as he's grabbing the shower curtain and his foot is slipping on the bar of Irish Spring he has discarded earlier. The old moldy curtain comes down with him, the smell of mildew and hotel soap suffocating him nearly as much as the feeling of his head on the old porcelain tub.
"Is Dink supposed to be a euphemism for Penis?" The angel's head inclines slightly as he observes the naked, soapy man -well, what parts were sticking through the curtain.
Dean reaches a hand up, parting the curtain so he could stick his head out and properly give Castiel the evil eye. "Dammit, CAS!" His body tenses, fists coming down on the tub floor, "What the hell did we say about personalspace!?"
The angel ignores his obvious discomfort for the situation and pushes on, "I was unaware it was possible for your," He adjusts his voice, catching himself in time to make a very poorly planned reference, "Um, dink to be blue. Do you suffer this affliction after seeing everyone or only me?" Castiel watches as Dean merely huffs, his arms, still tangled in the curtain, moved to sit across his chest. He wondered, exactly how Dean expected to be intimidating tangled in the curtain just so, water cascading down onto his scrunched features. "I am sorry," He knows it's what the Hunter wants to hear and, just this once he is willing to give it to him, "Given our current circumstance, I figured my nearness would not bother you."
"Yeah, well you fricken' figured wrong, Cas, human bei-"
Castiel cuts him off with a snap of his fingers, using much more of his grace than he should to make Dean disappear, bending the very will of the universe to set him down gently on the fringed bathmat. His head fell slightly with the use of grace, but he knows Dean isn't really paying attention, he wouldn't notice the tired lines around his eyes.
Lately it was about what Castiel could do for them, how he could stop the Apocalypse -there just wasn't time for it. Being a creature of war he understood, but being a carbonation-less tall drink of defiance he couldn't help but feel slightly disheartened. If that was what the feeling was? A fist raised to his chest, tapping slightly. No, no emotion, just a spot of indigestion from the triple bacon cheeseburger and side of fries from earlier.
"God dammit, I'm not gonna poop for a week now." Dean shook his head and grabbed a towel from behind the toilet, wrapping it around his waist.
"Dean-" He warns.
"Yeah yeah," He waves him off as he is exiting the bathroom, "shalt not your Father's name in blah. Sorry, Cas."
The apology is half hearted, just like the last couple of months have been and Castiel is okay with that realization. He is okay with the fact that Dean will continue to brush him off until it's too late. He is okay with the knowledge that it will all end in a garden not far from now because he knows what he has to do. He slides across the checkered board with ease, he knows his purpose -help the Winchester boy, protect the vessel until the end.