Dean Winchester is a twenty-four year old mechanic, and occasional bartender at his friend's bar, working hard to keep his baby brother cared for. Of course said baby brother is twenty and the size of fucking Sasquatch but whatever, Sammy is still his little brother, he'll love him no matter what.
Even if he has a strange boy in his bed, wearing Dean's clothes of all things.
Honestly that's what weirds him out the most.
Not too long ago Sam lost his long-time girlfriend Jess to a car accident, just like how they lost their parents ten years ago, so the kid has been acting out in some weird ways like wandering into the nearby forest for hours at a time and holding himself up away from people in general.
Honestly, something as normal as sneaking a fling into his room is kind of a relief.
But, again, why is he in Dean's clothes ?
He's also not entirely sure of when Sam started liking dudes, either, honestly.
Was that always a thing?
He can't really blame him though, from the looks of the sleeping kid he is pretty cute. Dark curly brown hair, small frame, pouty li- no, Dean, don't oggle your brother's hook up.
Besides, he's definitely not into dudes so what the fuck. Dean takes a deep breath from his spot at the doorway to Sam's room, before clearing his throat.
The boy doesn't budge.
Dean grabs his cell from his pocket to message Sam about the stranger in his house, before remembering he's out for an internship interview and has a bad habit of not silencing his phone.
There's nothing quite as annoying as a lecture from Sam about getting him in trouble when it's his own damn fault he doesn't mute his phone.
He'd rather not have that argument again.
Instead, Dean sighs and goes up to the bed, looking down at the body in it and raising a brow when he sees…black feathers? Tilting his head forward to get a better look, Dean sees what looks like really torn up cosplay wings on the guy's back.
That's a surprise, as far as Dean can remember Sammy wasn't really into LARPing or cosplay. In fact, he recalls many times his brother teased him in the past for going off with Charlie for the weekend to attend a WoW-based LARP.
"Jeez, Sammy, you're out here changing everything up, huh?" He muses, surprised that not even him speaking makes the boy move. "What the hell, dude? Wake up !" Dean groans, reaching down to shake the kid's shoulder.
That's when he notices it.
The massive gash under his shirt, revealed now by the movement of his body.
Dear god Sammy killed someone.
Okay, ohshit, don't panic. Is this kid the drunk driver who killed Jess?
Dear god Sam has become a vigilante.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
How do you hide a body? What's this kid's name? Why did he put a dead boy in Dean's fucking clothes!?
Before his brain completely short circuits, he hears a small breath come out of the boy.
"Oh thank god !" He sighs, collapsing into the computer chair beside the bed, "Thank fucking god."
Still, there's a lot of unanswered questions here.
Dean watches the boy's face for signs he might wake up, but there's nothing, so very gently he lifts his old AC/DC shirt up over the kids head to assess the damage and it is way worse than he thought.
The gash on his shoulder is in fact a massive one that stretches from his right shoulder all the way to his left hip, the part over his chest even looking...burnt? What the hell? He's also got tons of small wounds all over his torso and holy shit are those wings attached !?
Dean begins reeling, wondering just what the fuck Sammy got himself involved in.
Fuck manners this justifies a fucking phone call in the middle of an interview.
Pulling out his phone, Dean goes to his contacts, scrolling to the bottom for Sam's name.
"Where…?" A small voice breathes out, followed by heavy coughing.
"Oh! Shit! You're awake!" Dean gasps, quickly pulling the boy's shirt back down and helping him sit up, "Dude what the hell happened to you? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
The boy sits there, deep blue eyes dark and dazed, before he lifts his head up to look at Dean, "There is no need for hospitals." His voice is ragged but firm and he looks back down at himself, "Did you treat my wounds?"
"No, my brother Sammy did." Dean answers, eying him, "Do you know Sammy? Or, um, Sam Winchester?"
"I don't know any humans," The boy says and Dean raises a brow, "There is no use in it."
Does he have a concussion or something?
"Right...so...if you don't mind me asking, who the hell are you?"
"I am Castiel," The boy answers and Dean jumps a little when the pieces of his wings still remaining flutter a little behind him, "And I am an angel of the lord."
Dean bursts out laughing, "Of course! What was I thinking!? An angel of the lord!" He reaches out and rests a hand lightly on Castiel's uninjured left shoulder, "Well, angel, I think it's time we take you to the hospital."
"They cannot do anything for me," Castiel responds, his eyes staring down Dean's hand as if it's personally offending him, "Neither can you."
Dean scoffs, moving his hand away, "Ok, angel, what do you need then? A priest?"
"A church might help speed the healing process," Castiel muses, "But only one free of sin."
"Welp, you're shit outta luck, kid. This is California, everywhere is full of sin." Dean jokes and Castiel raises a brow at him before looking around the room.
"This home is not." He points out, "I shall stay here until I recover."
" By all means, angel, make yourself at home." Dean mocks, which goes over the boy's head.
"Thank you. I will try."
"Fucking christ," The older Winchester groans, pulling his phone out to call Sam, "This is gonna get old fast."
Castiel doesn't say anything to that, simply lying back down in Sam's bed and closing his eyes.
"Guess I'll leave the room, then." Dean groans and Castiel nods.
"Please do."
" Wonderful ."
The phone immediately goes to voicemail and Dean can feel his left eye twitch.
Sam is gonna get it.
A few hours later, Castiel once again dead to the world, Dean waits at the door for Sam to come in. Luckily for Sam he's not late.
"Dea-"
"Who the fuck is in your bed, Sam? Why does he look like he was shoved through a fucking shredder and why is he calling himself an angel?" Dean asks, watching Sam grow more tense with each word.
"Well, you see...um...I kind of... found him during my walk last night." Sam answers weakly, "He fell from the sky, taking out a ton of the forest when he did and he does have wings and like somehow I wasn't hurt at all by the destruction so I'm pretty sure he is in fact an angel. Honestly I was worried he might be a demon or something since his wings are black so I'm relieved he's an angel." He laughs dryly, quickly stopping when he sees the unamused scowl on Dean's face, "Don't look at me like that! I couldn't just leave him there! You should have seen him, Dean, he was covered in blood! It took an hour to scrub it all off of him!"
"Whoa, whoa, you gave the dude a sponge bath ? Sam, what the fuck? There's so much wrong here I don't even know where to start!" Dean exclaims, before something comes to mind, "Why is he in my clothes!?"
Sam gives him a weak smile, "Because your smaller than me…?"
If looks could kill, his brother would be obliterated right now.
"M-my shirts kept sliding down his shoulders! I had no choice! Yours are still big on him but, like, a reasonable big! As for the sponge bath, I mean, he's a guy I don't see what the big deal is." Sam adds and Dean works very hard not to explode.
" You , Sam Winchester, are on thin ice ."
"Okay, mom."
"Oh hell no! You better bite your tongue, bitch. You brought some weird ass creature into our house! I hope you're ready to take care of him!" Dean scolds and Sam sighs.
"Yes, Dean, I'll be sure to feed him and water him an-"
"I swear to god I will lock you out for the next week if you keep getting sarcastic after bringing a literal creature into our home!"
"It'll be fine! He's bedridden anyways so he's not gonna bother you." Sam points out and Dean glares.
"He better not."
"I won't." A voice says from directly behind Dean, making him jump away and scream a very manly scream. Standing there with a glass of water is Castiel, his hair all over the place, Dean's shirt slightly falling off his right shoulder as his free hand begins to fumble with the strings of the sweatpants he's wearing.
Dean's sweatpants.
"What the hell are you doing out of bed!?" Dean yells, surprising the boy.
"I needed water."
"You're an angel, I thought you guys didn't eat."
Castiel nods, "We don't eat, but when our grace has been depleted we do drink water. It helps us supply our bodies with nourishment said grace normally would." He explains, taking a large gulp of the water before looking to Sam, "Are you Sam Winchester?"
"Um, yeah, that's right." Sam says, visibly nervous.
"Thank you for your help." Castiel says, putting the cup down, "You slept on your rolling chair last night, yes? I am sorry for causing you such trouble."
Dean looks to Sam, "You slept on your computer chair!? What the hell, Sammy!"
"We can't both fit on my bed with his wings," Sam points out, "Since someone insisted on taking our parents king sized bed for himself."
Oh. Fuck.
Dean looks between his brother and the bored looking angel in front of him, knowing what he needs to do.
Even though he really doesn't want to.
"He can...sleep...in...my...bed…" He forces out, his face visibly pained by his own words.
Sam looks at him shocked and Castiel simply raises a brow.
"Where is your bed?" Castiel asks and Dean already regrets it.
The things he fucking does for Sammy.
Notes: It's been 84 years...and I come back not even working on one of my unfinished pieces because I'm trash.