Written Pre-Season 9. Ideas and Dialogue from brilliant Christian because she is awesome okay c:
A little bell on the top of the door rang as Dean walked into the local laundromat with Castiel slightly trailing behind, staring intently at his alien surroundings. He felt the fans blowing on his skin and cooling it down, and the hums and the clunks of the many machines working intrigued him.
Dean set down the sack he'd been carrying for the last few blocks. The sack was bloated to the point of explosion with clothes attached to layers and layers of sweat and blood from their hunts, and turned to look at Castiel. "Okay, Cas. So all you do is put the clothes in the machine. Got it?"
"Yes Dean, I got it." In truth, Castiel didn't really get it. Why didn't they just wash their clothes back at the bunker? After all, there was water there. This whole human thing was getting more and more confusing by the second; the other day, he'd actually gotten hurt when he accidentally cut himself. But he shrugged it off, and took off his trench coat, his suit, and his shoes, throwing it all into the machine.
Meanwhile, Dean turned away, sticking his hand into his pockets, fiddling around to find some change for the washing machine. "Alright, then you take the money and you put it in-WOAH, WOAH. CAS." He stared in shock at the man next to him, who had apparently grouped the clothes he was already wearing with the rest of the laundry and was currently standing in his white boxer shorts.
"DUDE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON."
Dean looked around with a flustered look on his face. He could see everyone turning to see the man currently stripped down to his underwear. Which he had to admit, was looking pretty damn fine on him. But his mind returned to sanity, reminding him that he was in public and that was socially unacceptable, no matter how hot his ass looks. And his torso. And his arms. No Dean, stop that. He shook his head, as if to fling away the dirty thoughts going through his head. "Cas. Cas, just- just put your clothes back on, okay?"
Cas stared back at Dean confusedly. "But you said-"
"Yeah, but I didn't mean the clothes you're wearing right now! Come on dude, put your clothes back on, people are starin'."
Dean looks up again, trying to convey the "Please-excuse-my-boyfriend-he's-new-to-being-huma n" face to the crowd when he sees another guy, a Caucasian blond about 27 years old, who's been looking at Castiel for longer than he's comfortable with, with a look on his face that made him so jealous he was barely able to keep himself from getting arrested for assault.
"HEY. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, SHIT DICK?!" Dean roared, glaring at the man with silver daggers in his eyes. The man looked at him back with confusion. He pointed at himself and mouthed the words, "What, me?"
"YEAH I'M TALKIN' TO YOU. DO YOU SEE THIS?" He said, gesturing at Castiel behind him. "DO YOU SEE THIS PERFECTION IN THE WHITE UNDERWEAR? THAT IS GOT THAT? MINE."
The man looked back at Dean and opened his mouth to speak slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully to avoid angering the overprotective boyfriend further. "Uh dude…he's not in his underwear anymore."
Dean whirled around to confirm that Castiel was, in fact, naked. His face became red with embarrassment. "...Dammit Cas."
Castiel looked down at Dean's pants, wondering why his crotch was getting more cramped. "Dean, your jeans look awfully tight. Did you wash them already?"
Upon hearing this, he noticed that he was actually getting painfully aroused in his jeans. And clearly, so was Cas, who was wearing his excitement without a care in the world. At that moment, it was like a wave washed over him, eliminating all the fucks he had to give to anyone. He was unable to see anyone but the man standing in front of him in all of his glory. Dean couldn't stop himself anymore. He pounced.
Sam could feel his irritation rising as he stared at the bag lying on the ground of their bunker and the articles of cloth that spewed from the opening. From the many dark-red splotches still painted on his plaid shirts, it was obvious that their clothes had been left unwashed for the third time. "Dammit Dean, not again," he muttered under his breath, stuffing the clothes back into the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Guess if you want something done without getting distracted by sex, you gotta do it yourself, he thought.
As Sam walked down the metal stairs, he could hear soft moans coming from the library conference table: the same table that was currently supporting a certain ex-angel's ass as his older brother pressed up tightly against him. "Ahem," Sam interjected loudly, sighing when Dean's arm traveled down the other's back and rested on his waist. All the while, the couple continued to suck face, seemingly unfazed by Sam's presence. Dean had already begun kissing down the other's neck when Sam decided he'd had enough. "Hey. Hey. GUYS!"
Dean paused his descent down Castiel's neck, gave one last soft kiss at the carotid, and looked up at his younger brother, the irritation radiating from his face like uranium. "What? I'm busy." Sam swung the bag of clothes to his front, held it up, and shook it, the look in his widened eyes emphasizing his exasperation. "Oh yeah that. We got to the Laundromat, but then Cas-"
"Dude, I don't wanna hear about you and Cas. I already get enough of that here."
"But oh my God, Sam, he learned some new moves from the pizza man!" Dean said, looking more excited and carnal than the time Cas got him a 24-month subscription to "Busty Asian Beauties".
Sam blinked and looked at Dean exasperatedly. "Jesus Christ, Dean-"
"No. I am Castiel." The ex-angel objected. "Dean did not engage in vigorous sexual intercourse in public vicinity with Jesus Christ, Sam. That is ridiculous, for Jesus is-"
"Shut up."