Castiel still did not understand Dean's aversion to the idea as they faced opposite walls and undressed. They were both men, one an Angel and the other a priest, how was it weird to share a bathroom? Once relieved of his clothing, Castiel eased himself onto the cool tub surface while he adjusted the water to his preferred luke warm.

Listening to the sound of the shower running and the bathtub gradually filling, Castiel cracked his neck and closed his eyes. A bath was going to be very nice.

Dean, no matter how hard he tried, could not remove the voice in his head continuously reminding him that Castiel was within his wing span, naked and bathing. Why, of all the ideas he could have come up with, did the priest decide this was the best one? Sure, they weren't facing each other but what if one of those ridiculous chick flick moments happened?

Someone drops the soap and ta-da! Full frontal. Could the priest really be that dense? Then again, priests had to swear off their penis or some shit like that; maybe he really just didn't know what the sanctity of a shower was. For a moment, Dean was content with that conclusion. Then Castiel moaned.

As Castiel eased his way into the perfectly heated bath he allowed a sound of contentment to escape him. The water really hit the spot after the week he had been having. The sudden sound of slipping and someone colliding hard with the shower stall roused him back to a tense alertness, thinking better of turning around only at the last second.

"Dean?"

A groan came from his companion's general direction.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, peachy."

The faint sounds of Dean attempting to right himself filled the room, soaked wings slapping tile ineffectually.

"Would you like me to assist you? I could-"

"No! No, I got it. I'm fine, thanks."

A few more minutes of useless slapping and slipping before silence and the sound of water rolling over a body claimed the room.

"All is well?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Cass. Just…no more porn noises, okay?"

"What?"

"You – never mind. Tell me when you're done."

"Are you –"

"Yes."

Frowning a moment, Castiel didn't push the matter as he washed himself quickly before pulling the plug. It didn't take long to properly dry off and wrap a towel around his waist, realizing only then that neither of them had remembered clothes. Clearing his throat, he addressed his companion.

"Are you ready for me to clean your wings?"

"Uh, yeah…gimme a second."

It wasn't until he was trying to cover up that he realized he had no towel. Thinking fast he used the spare washcloth to cover his more intimate parts after having a seat on the floor of the shower.

"All stations are a go."

"I take it you are ready?"

"Yeah."

Castiel finally turned to face his companion only to find a very wet and very naked winged man sitting on the floor just inside the shower door. Heat moved under his skin as he spun on his heel to grab another towel – tossing it to the general direction of the exposed man.

"M-my apologies. Please dry off and have a seat on the toilet. Alert me when you are ready."

With that he quietly feigned interest in the paint patterns of the ceiling.

Dean chuckled at the flustered sound of Castiel's voice. It figures that it would take action to properly make him aware of exactly how awkward a situation it was. Drying quickly, he straddled the toilet and allowed the towel to simply drape across his lap to prevent it from falling open on him. Thinking a second in the comedic value, he smiled mischievously before dragging the tip of his right wing from the small of Castiel's back to the nape of his neck.

The soft touch of feathers was strangely electric as they travelled up his back, Castiel tensing until he was statuesque in his stillness. The instant it connected with his neck, however, a sudden explosion of noise occurred in his mind – hundreds of thousands of voices speaking and singing in unison as lights danced before his eyes. Despite the overwhelming urge to scream his throat closed up until all he could let out was a chocked gurgle.

Dean couldn't help it, he laughed. Sure the priest going rigid and making that weird noise was not what he had been expecting, but it had been damn funny. Removing his wing, he addressed the cleric once more.

"Alright, man, I'm ready."

Nothing happened, the room eerily silent. Dean suddenly felt bad – he hadn't meant to offend or scare the man.

"Look, I –"

As he turned to face Castiel he found him shaking violently, like a child alone in a thunder storm. Mortified, he quickly rose from his seat and moved to him, awkwardly catching the towel before it dropped completely and holding it in place with one arm.

"Cass, man, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to scare you or whatever…"

Still there was no reaction, just Castiel shaking as he faced the opposite direction. Reaching out, he rested his unoccupied hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"Hey Dude, are you okay?"

Nothing, which was beginning to eat away at Dean until worry turned into anger.

"Cass, this isn't funny."

The trembling was beginning to make Dean's arm tingle and go numb.

"Castiel!"

He jerked the smaller man until he was facing him at last. What Dean hadn't been expecting was to be met with the look of tortured hopelessness in the priest's overflowing eyes.

"Cass, I didn't – I'm –"

"It's all so loud, Dean."

"What? Castiel –"

"They're all just…"

If it hadn't been for his hand at the priest's shoulder, he wouldn't have felt his body sag before it dropped. Catching him before he hit the floor, he couldn't stop thinking that he really hoped this wouldn't become a thing. Then he felt the warm sensation of skin meeting his groin and internally groaned. Of course he'd only draped his towel across his lap.

Dean had never been more grateful to be the only person awake in a church as he princess carried the towel clad cleric to his room while being unavoidably naked himself. If Pastor Jim didn't have any, he would be investing in a robe. Not that he was planning on forgetting his clothes again. Or staying long for that matter.

After getting fully dressed Dean cleaned the mess of broken belongings from his room, hoping to avoid further calamities. It took another hour before Castiel stirred, Dean having been perched on a chair at his bedside.

"Hey Cass, how're you feeling? You kind of passed out on me back there."

"I had hoped it had all been a dream…"

"Hoped what had been a dream?"

"They're all so loud."

"Cass, you're not making any sense. Who's being loud?"

Dean's inner Sam described Castiel's face at that particular moment to be 'childlike bewilderment'. Dean's precise description was 'telling a five year old the Easter bunny isn't real', because it didn't hold the sheer desperation or magnitude of Santa Clause, but it was too surprised to be at the Tooth Fairy level.

"You can't hear them?"

"Who, Cass? Hear who?"

Dean regretted having to ask as desperation and fear that he had previously lacked distorted the priest's face. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a little sadness there too.

"The Angels, Dean."

"What Angels?"

"All of them."

"What?"

"I can hear them all, every single one."