Summary: Castiel is a lonely angel residing in Heaven, his only companion his loyal mud-monkey, Dean. When Castiel meets important Gabriel and his frisky pet Sam, something ensues. AU Sam/Dean Gabriel/Castiel unrelated slash.
A Walkies On The Wild Side (Part 4 of 5) by frostygossamer
Dean ran to the far edge of the trees and peeked out at the open space beyond. He could see one male angel and a female angel walking with two little cherubs. He turned his head to comment to Sam, but he wasn't there.
Looking back into the woods, Dean spotted Sam busy rubbing his groin against a tree. He scampered back to his side.
"Dude, what you doin'?" he asked.
"'S not good, mudz," Sam explained. "When I git excited it gits very TIGHT."
"Does it itch?" Dean asked.
"Some," Sam agreed. "Freakin' trouble is, can't git at 'em to lick it better."
Dean pondered. "Want me to lick 'em for ya?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, reckon that'd just make it MORE tight," he pointed out.
Dean could see his reasoning.
"Just try thinkin' 'bout sumthin' ugly," he suggested.
Sam nodded. "It'd help if you stood farther away, mudz," he commented.
He flopped down on his backside and let the muddy ground cool down his downstairs while Dean scoped out the area. By the time Dean returned he had come up with a plan.
"Need to climb me a tree," he pronounced.
"Dude, can you even climb a tree?" Dean queried.
"Dunno, mudz, never tried," Sam answered. "But I KNOW muddies CAN climb 'em cos I seen a muddie UP a tree, in the park."
"Ooh," Dean responded.
Mud-monkeys COULD climb trees? Suddenly they looked more interesting.
Sam stood up and considered the tree he had been leaning on. He reached up and grabbed onto a bough, hauling himself up by it. No problem. He was soon scrambling up the trunk like the monkey his kind was named after.
"Whaddya see?" Dean called up to him.
"Everythin', mudz," Sam called back. "Everyplace."
"Dude, can you see the Stork Factory?"
"Can see..." suddenly Sam realized that he had no idea what the Stork Factory would look like. "Guess I can see it," he said, not wanting to lose face in front of his companion.
"I'ma comin' up there too," Dean shouted.
"No, mudz," Sam replied, hastily. "I'ma gonna come down."
Alas, in his hurry to get down, Sam misfooted and fell through the last few branches. He picked himself up off of the ground, painfully self-conscious, and dusted his naked body down huffily.
"Dude, you OK?" Dean asked, full of concern. "Stuff hurt?"
Sam harrumphed and Dean grinned. "Looked like freakin' fun," Dean chuckled.
Sam shook his head. "NOT freakin' fun," he insisted.
"Ah," Dean retorted. "But good, cos look!" and he pointed at Sam's groin.
Sam glanced down and noticed, for the first time, that the offending chastity cage was gone, no doubt ripped off by a lucky twig.
"Hey, so that's how you do it," Sam commented.
Dean dropped to his knees beside his friend and studied Sam's red and swollen little ex-prisoners.
"Oh, dude, they need 'em a real GOOD tongue bath," he remarked.
"Damn right they do, mudz," Sam agreed.
So they had found themselves something fun to pass the time, until it got dark enough for them to continue their journey.
~xXx~
Dusk was creeping in as they stopped their aimlessly wandering through the forest and found a softish bed in a clump of ferns.
After they had sat there for a while, Sam noticed that Dean had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he caught him chewing on something.
"Dude, what you eatin'?" he asked, curious.
"Nuthin'," Dean responded, too fast.
"Freakin' eatin' sumthin'," Sam insisted. "What you got?"
"Dunno, mudz," Dean admitted.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "So what you eatin' it for?"
"Was kinda stripy like candy," Dean explained.
Sam's stomach got hopeful. "Was it candy?" he asked.
"Nah," Dean answered, making a face.
"What was it then?" Sam wanted to know.
"Freakin' buzzy," Dean complained, swallowing the bee awkwardly. "And not good."
They sat for a while longer, the silence only broken by the sounds of their bellies rumbling. His mind also empty of thought, a question came to Dean that had been bothering him.
"Dude, how come you pork so freakin' good?" he inquired.
From the start Dean had been very impressed by Sam's skill with the pork sword.
"Cos I go in kennels one whole damn lot," Sam explained.
Dean considered. His master never put Dean in kennels because he feared they might be harsh and cold places.
"Thought kennels were freakin' nasty," he objected. "Master sez."
"Dude, they so ARE," Sam agreed. "Cold pens, hard beds, measly food. But you git freakin' truckloads of boff. Whether you want it or not."
Dean suddenly felt he had led a secluded and deprived life.
"But, dude, I LIKE boff," he declared, wounded.
"Don't I KNOW it, mudz," Sam agreed happily. "One of your best features."
Dean thought it was nice of Sam to say that. He curled up against the bigger mud-monkey's warm skin and they were both soon fast asleep, Babes-in-the-Woods-style.
~xXx~
Later that night Dean was woken by the hoot of some sort of bird passing overhead. It was a dove-of-peace, a common enough bird in Heaven, but, never having been in the woods, Dean had never noticed one before.
"Stork!" was his first thought.
He woke Sam, whose hunky form was curled tightly around Dean's naked body, his shaggy head on Dean's shoulder.
"Wake up, dude," Dean hissed. "Just seen one."
"Seen one what, mudz?" Sam mumbled, shaking the sleep out of his head.
"A freakin' stork," Dean answered.
"Uh?" Sam responded. "What did it look like?"
"Like a freakin' bird, dumb-ass," Dean replied tetchily. "Only freakin' huge."
"Uh? Then it musta been," Sam agreed.
He pulled his frankfurter free of its hiding place and sat up. Little Sam had spent the afternoon recuperating in the protective cocoon of Dean's butt and he was now feeling way better.
"Dude, let's follow it," he suggested.
Dean nodded his agreement.
"Great plan, mudz," he whispered and both mud-monkeys set off in the direction the dove had headed.
"Dude, hold up one minute," Sam called to Dean.
Now that the clinch on his plumbing had been released, Sam felt the need to deposit something for posterity.
"Gotta squat, mudz," he explained.
Dean sighed and waited, his attention wandering uninterestedly.
Sam squatted down and did what was necessary. Afterwards he checked it out, just to make sure he hadn't left any telltale messages for the wrong sort of nose to pick up on.
"Seems good," he pronounced, wiping his bottom carefully with a handy leaf.
Dean took his word for it. After a couple hundred yards the shorter muddie spotted the bird again.
"There it is," he said pointing. "That goshdarn stork."
"Where, dude?" Sam demanded. "Oh THERE. See it now."
The dove was sitting in a tree preening its feathers and preparing to settle for the night.
"'S goin' to bed," Sam observed.
Dean groaned. "Freakin' bed?" he said. "In a tree? Jeez. I know, let's scare it and it'll fly home... to the Stork Factory."
"Great idea, mudz," Sam agreed, enthusiastically.
Dean threw a stone in the general direction of the dove. The bird squawked and fluttered, flew out of the forest and landed on a tall streetlight just beyond the wood. Since there was no one around at that hour, the two mud-monkeys emerged from the bushes and stood under the lamp glaring up at it.
"Stupid damn bird," Dean grumbled.
"Stupid," Sam agreed.
The dove glared down at the possible predators below and fidgeted. Looking around it spotted a tall building an easy flap away and rapidly calculated its flight path. Then with a great swooping jump it glided onto the boundary fence. Perfect landing. Ten out of ten.
~xXx~
When Castiel returned home from work, tired but already excited by the prospect of Gabriel's imminent return, he was poleaxed to discover the two mud-monkeys had gone. He stood by the gate staring at the empty back yard blankly for several minutes before he investigated and found the route of their exit, the escape tunnel under the fence.
"Bad muddies," he exclaimed. "Now I'm gonna have to call the pound and report you missing."
Clearly escaped mud-monkeys could not be allowed to run riot around Holy City. The City Council employed a team of Control Officers to clear the streets of any feral muddies and ensure the safety of its angelic citizens.
Castiel had already dialed their number when the possible repercussions of such a call occurred to him. Did he really want his and Gabriel's precious pets rounded up and thrown into a mud-pound with a bunch of mangy strays for the night? He had never even trusted a regular kennel to look after his Dean. You heard such disturbing stories. Those poor creatures could be scarred for life.
So, instead, he decided to call Gabriel. Sam was his muddie after all.
~xXx~
Gabriel was only a few minutes from home when he picked up the call. Within a half hour he was at Castiel's side reassuring him about the fate of his dear pet.
"They're not munchkins," he pointed out. "Sam and Dean are adult mud-monkeys. They can take care of themselves."
"But Dean has hardly ever been allowed to run free before," Castiel insisted. "And never in the woods. He'll probably be scared."
"Doubt it," Gabriel remarked. "Tell you what. Let's get some flashlights and take a look around. They probably haven't gone far."
Castiel opened a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a couple penlights.
"I think," he began hesitantly, "Think they may have gone to look for the Stork Factory."
Gabriel couldn't stifle his involuntary guffaw.
"The Stork Factory? Like in the story for cherubs? What makes you think that?"
Castiel prevaricated, "They may have overheard a mother telling the tale to her little one."
He didn't want to have to explain to an incredulous Gabriel that he thought he had 'cracked' the mud-monkey 'language'.
Gabriel smirked. "You give them more credit for smarts than they're capable of, Cas," he said kindly. "They're probably just running around playing chase."
~xXx~
The two angels spent an hour searching the wood out back of Castiel's building, shouting Sam and Dean's names with no result.
"Getting dark," Gabriel said presently. "Reckon we should call off the search and begin again tomorrow. Chances are they'll have come home by then anyways, with their tails between their legs, so to speak."
Castiel nodded sadly.
"Poor Dean," he murmured. "And poor Sam. I bet they're cold and hungry by now."
It was dark. Twinkly stars had come out over the trees and bathed the scene in an eerie light. Castiel was somewhat loath to go inside and leave his 'baby' out there in the unfamiliar woods.
"Cas, honey, they ARE natural creatures," Gabriel said. "They probably know more about surviving in the outdoors than WE would."
He stretched out his hand toward the taller angel and Castiel took it, allowing Gabriel to lead him indoors.
~xXx~
Once inside Castiel's apartment Gabriel sat his friend down, fetched his bottle of holy spirit and poured him a drink to settle his nerves.
"I know I'm just being foolish, Gabe," Castiel replied. "But ever since I brought Dean home as a munchkin, he's been a real house-mud. He's not used to fending for himself."
Gabriel sat beside Castiel and put his arms around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest.
"I wouldn't worry," Gabriel said. "My Sam is like some living dang tornado. Nothing is going to get near enough to do them any harm. Believe me."
Castiel rested his head on the archangel's shoulder, who placed a comforting hand on his knee.
"I do hope so," he said unhappily.
"Perhaps I should stay the night, Cas honey," Gabriel suggested.
Castiel nodded without thinking, lost in his own thoughts.
Gabriel decided to press home his advantage and, lifting Castiel's chin, he brought their lips together. Dazed for a moment, Castiel didn't at first resist, but then he came to his senses and pulled away,
"Gabe," he said. "I... I..."
Having been to Earth so seldom Castiel had never picked up much on Earth's worldly ways. He was something of an innocent when it came to relationships and he was shocked to realize that Gabriel had intended anything more than a platonic friendship. Physical intimacy was not something he was prepared for. He pushed the archangel's hand off of his knee.
"Please," he gasped. "I don't want..."
Gabriel chose retreat as probably the best option right then.
"I guess I should go," he said, standing up and heading for the door.
Castiel saw him to the front door, where Gabriel turned and tried to rescue the situation as best he could.
"You should get some sleep, Cas. Don't you worry yourself any more about those dumb creatures tonight. Everything will seem better in the morning. You'll see."
Then he summoned up his air of archangelic authority.
"I'll get someone on their case tomorrow, first thing. Soon have your Dean back here in one piece."
He leaned toward Castiel as if to give him a peck on the cheek, but the prudish angel drew back. Gabriel smiled apologetically and left with a little wave goodbye.
As he got in his car Gabriel cursed loudly and figuratively kicked himself in the butt. Perfect opportunity wasted. He was going to have to work on his seduction technique if he wanted to pluck that sweet angelic flower he had become so attached to.
Castiel heaved a sigh as he closed the door on paradise for the night. He hadn't meant to seem unfriendly. He really, really liked Gabriel so much, but... he just wasn't at ease with public, or even private, displays of affection. He only wished he was.
~xXx~
The dove had hopped off of the fence as Dean and Sam approached and was now pecking at the ground just inside the perimeter.
Sam leaned over the fence and reached out to try and grab the dove as it paraded about a tantilizing few feet away. Dean came up behind him and noticed his upturned butt, a little muddy but otherwise appealing. He sniffed Sam's exit appreciatively then stood against it, splaying the big guy's buns with both hands, his pink tip resting against the aperture. Sam paused from flailing around and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Not a good moment, dude," he commented.
Dean considered that a very churlish remark.
"Looks like one excellent moment to me, thank you," he retorted.
Sam reconsidered his own thoughtless rudeness.
"Uh, I'm SO sorry, mudz. Just let me spread myself a little more," he said. "Then you can carry right on."
"Maybe now I don't freakin' wanna," Dean remarked, huffily.
Sam gave him a knowing smile.
"Sure you freakin' wanna. You're leakin' already," he pointed out. "Just ram it on in, dude. I'll take it all the way just fine."
Dean pushed gently and his stiffy slid smoothly into Sam's opening. Delicious. Sam let out a tiny, gratifying little groan. Dean started to piston his friend energetically, thoroughly enjoying the unrestrained sounds Sam was making.
After a few more thrusts, Dean emptied his tank into Sam and, almost simultaneously, Sam shot a stream of love-juice right through the fence, startling the dove and causing it to flutter away in a panic, thinking it was under some twisted kind of attack.
"Dude! Now look what you've done," Dean complained.
"Don't think I did that, mudz. Think it was you," Sam rejoined.
"Dude, I did NOT make you squirt on the bird," Dean objected.
"Well, mudz, I didn't do it all by myself," Sam maintained. "You should have put a knot in it until we got the stupid stork."
Dean rolled his eyes. "We both know that'd be inappropriate," he said, a little shocked at the idea. "And probably freakin' unhealthy."
Shaking its feathers, the dove marched toward the big building. It was familiar with this place in the day and felt no fear. It made a point of coming here every lunch time to scrounge scraps of food off of the office workers as they grabbed a few minutes of fresh air on their break. So really this was the dove's happy place.
~xXx~
Sam and Dean climbed over the fence. They trotted after the dove and found it squatting under a bench.
"What's it doin' now?" Sam asked.
"Just sittin' there waitin'," Dean replied.
"What's it waitin' for, dude?" the big muddie wondered.
"Dunno, mudz," Dean responded, looking up at the darkened building. "Probably waitin' for this freakin' place to open. Right now it all looks gone to bed."
Sam nodded. "Looks like it, mudz," he agreed. "So what'll we do?"
Dean sat down on the bench. "Guess we'll wait till everythin' wakes up."
Sam flopped down beside him and laid his shaggy head on Dean's lap. Dean fussed with his hair.
"Dude, you need a freakin' trip to the parlor," he commented.
"Hate the freakin' parlor," Sam said, with a little snarl.
"My parlor's damn good," Dean reckoned. "They give you candy."
Sam nuzzled his face into Dean's belly and grumbled.
"Never git no freakin' candy at my parlor. 'S freakin' unfair."
~xXx~
When dawn came the dove was gone.
"Sneaky damn stork ran off durin' the night," Sam exclaimed in disbelief.
Dean sighed. "Guess we gotta find us another one, dude."
He stood up, shook himself and stretched his arms behind his head. Sam took advantage of his departure by shifting to lie full length and stare at Dean's butt.
"Dude, look's like a waffle," he chuckled, noticing the checkering stamped on his friend's plump cheeks by the grid pattern of the bench.
Dean grabbed his own butt-cheeks with both hands and tried to rub some perkiness back in them.
"Freakin' metal couch made 'em kinda numb," he complained. "Freakin' uncomfortable."
"Got a nice comfy place you can sit right here," Sam snickered.
He was laying stretched out on his back now, playing with his morning woodie, which strained skyward to greet the dawn. Dean eyed it speculatively for a moment, then he climbed in Sam's lap and positioned himself on the fleshy spike.
"Mhm, 'S better," he agreed, bobbing slightly. "You make a great couch with benefits."
Sam stared up at Dean from below and felt a warm glow flow through more than just his private parts.
"Jeez, Dean is one smexy mudder," he thought, his tongue lolling out lasciviously. "Could hump his perfect tooshie every freakin' day for the rest of my life."
Afterwards Dean cleaned up Sam's muscular chest with his tongue. No substitute for breakfast but better than nothing. Although he doubted he was going to get very fat from anything he had generated himself.
Sam looked around, scanning the area for further supposed storks.
"And this time find one that freakin' talks Enochian... or Muddish," Dean remarked.
"They don't talk, mudz," Sam responded, skimming the vicinity with a hunter's eye. "They just squawk. That's all they freakin' do. Specially when you hunt 'em."
"How'd you know?" Dean demanded.
"Oh, I hunted 'em. In the park. LOTS of times," Sam explained. "Who knew those dumb cooey-asses were storks?"
"Dude, whadda they taste like?" Dean asked, now really feeling his lack of breakfast.
"Dunno," Sam answered. "Never got to freakin' eat one."
"Huh," Dean commented. "Not much of a damn hunter."
Sam chose to ignore that.
"Guess we'll scout around?" he suggested.
"Sure," Dean agreed. "Why not?" Maybe they would run into some food.
~xXx~
The sun was rising now and the complex was coming to life. Sam and Dean began to see dribs and drabs of angels turning up for work. They made the muddies nervous so they kept to the edges and shadows.
"Dude, maybe we should ask an angel," Dean suggested. "That looks like a nice one there," and he pointed to a stout fellow who was stuffing his face from a bag of donuts as he walked.
"Mudz, just because he has food doesn't make him nice," Sam objected.
"It helps," Dean commented.
Sam blew his bangs up out of his eyes.
"Reckon we should look for some muddies. Ifn this is where muddies come to git send down to Urth there should be muddies someplace, right?"
Dean nodded. "Sounds logical," he agreed.
He knew a good Alpha always listened to advice from his team. And Sam had a great way with a plan. So they set off, hoping to sniff out some of their own kind.
TBC
A/N: Wonder what this office building might be?