"Sometimes I believe all traps are of our own making, and we back into them, pretending amazement all the while. Whether this is true or no, it is still a virtue to open cages." - Dream of the Endless, as recorded by the Prophet Neil.
...
"You know what makes me uncomfortable, Sammy?"
"Cas' true form being the size of the Chrysler building and Aziraphale calling him 'little one'?"
"Damn, I hadn't even thought of that. I'm not going to sleep well tonight. I was thinking of a whole 'nother thing."
"Crowley turning out to be a semi-good guy?"
"I'm used to people switching sides by now."
"Cas getting all hysterical and weepy? I mean, by his standards?"
"That does bother me, but what I was really hoping you'd realize before I had to spit it out is that they gave us this bed."
"I know we have to share, but it's plenty big and we can fit on it without touching each other."
Dean took a long drink of the spring water Aziraphale had placed by the bed. "Angels don't sleep."
"...So that's why they gave us this bed, because the winged ones are going to stay up all night talking..."
"Yeah. So why the hell does he even have a bed?"
Sam made a face, but after a moment he settled back into the blankets. "We already knew, and it's not like the motels we sleep in all the time are so pure."
"Gives me the heebie-jeebies, that's what."
"If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure Cas has never done it. With anyone or anything."
"Goodnight, Sam."
...
"Thank you for doing this. It was getting uncomfortable," Castiel said quietly. He kneeled in front of the fireplace, his vessel dressed in nothing but his pants and a thin cotton undershirt.
Aziraphale wore a simple flannel robe and wool scarf. He had a comb and a jar of olive oil. "Of course, little one. How you must have been suffering."
Shutting his eyes, Castiel allowed a tiny crack of his true self to seep through into this reality, just enough so that an analogy of a metaphor (of an idea of a concept of a thought) of his wings could unfurl. Aziraphale said a few soft words over the oil, then dipped the comb in it. It was far more a spiritual cleansing and tidying than a physical one, but still the sensation of being groomed was pleasant.
"I feel soiled. Weak. Now that I have doubt, there is no refuge any longer."
"You've got a nasty tangle here. Hold still."
"Where is the devil you love?"
"You spit the words out, and I understand why. But if Father is gone, at least for the time being, there is a massive deficit of love in this world and someone needs to fill the gap. Besides, has he not helped you?"
"I don't know what to think anymore."
"In any case, Crowley is out making a deal." Aziraphale put the comb between his teeth and smoothed a whorl of sorrow with both hands. That done, he went back to combing. "I don't enjoy his work, but he has to do it to keep Hell off his back, and at least in this assignment he doesn't harm any innocents."
"He mentioned stopping an apocalypse with you previously." Their eyes met.
Aziraphale looked away first, not from weakness but from pity. "Yes. I was forgiven. He had to pay, for his superiors do not forgive. He's not exactly the same any longer. Harsher. Coarser. A lot of the humanity he'd slowly taken on over the centuries has been stripped away. It was nearly six years before we achieved something close to our former intimacy."
"His vessel is beginning to wear. His eyes are only hidden from mortals by those dark circles. Soon he will not be contained properly."
"I know. We have identified a suitable replacement. I'm glad I've never had to bother with that for myself." Aziraphale thought for a moment. "Speaking of which, has it ever occurred to you that if you let Jimmy take over for a few hours, you could rest? You must be tired."
"I cannot let the vessel come to harm. You know that."
"Yes, but you are under my protection now. Also, every inch of wallpaper hides Enochian shields. I spent more than a year redecorating."
"Very well. I will return before long." And his eyes and mouth filled with white light.
...
Dean woke to the sound of sobbing. He pulled on a shirt and tiptoed down stairs.
It was Cas sitting in the kitchen, barefoot and in boxers and an undershirt, while eating a pint of vanilla ice cream. No, not Cas. The body language was all wrong. "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" Jimmy Novak asked.
"Eh, it's okay. I don't sleep too well." Dean gave the man an awkward pat on the shoulder.
"Castiel is having a - well, the closest thing an angel can have to a snooze, I suppose. He's been run ragged. It's only possible because of Aziraphale's protection. He's too worried about me getting us killed to do this otherwise."
"They wanted me to be Michael's vessel."
Jimmy winced. "Good thing you managed to skip that. Though I will have to say that Castiel's been becoming more humane. Somehow, just a moment after I pulled myself together, the phone rang and it was Amelia. Wrong number, except it was right. We talked a little."
"That why you're crying now?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. Can you see if there's anything else in the fridge, please?"
Dean looked. "Do you like sardines?"
"Ugh. I remember Castiel eating raw meat off the floor when Famine got to us. I really wanted to throw up. The burgers were nice, though, after all those months without food."
"I believe that's my cue," Crowley announced, returning with some paper sacks. "Couldn't find a hamburger that would probably be up to your discerning tastes, not without using enough teleportation 'juice' to attract attention, but here's some Indian food if you want it."
Jimmy practically pounced.
"It still makes me nervous when you play Mr. Nice Guy," Dean muttered. He found some schnapps and poured himself a glass
"Well, Aziraphale promised I could break out some of the special props later if I played happy host."
Dean buried his face in his hands. "I do not need to hear about you getting it on with an angel."
"It's not like you haven't been secretly gagging for it yourself, pet," Crowley said, smirking. He dipped a finger in the remains of melted chocolate ice cream and licked it off his finger on his way out.