Just an FYI for those of you who are unaware, I am not around on the weekends because of no home internets. Sad but true. I'm also in college with three studio classes so kind of busy. So if I don't update in a while, there's why. This is also why I was posting "One Wing in the Fire" here instead of giving it a separate…thing because I was afraid of dropping it and just having it sit there and not doing anything. But, if a lot of you guys would rather see it in its own story, I can go ahead and do that. Now enough of this news flash stuff.
Let's do some stupid, silly, crack stuff and call it good. 'Cept I can't write crack. Anyway.
Feather Bed
It started with Castiel stealing the covers off of every motel room bed that Dean and Sam spent the night in.
At first, it didn't register that that was what was going on. They'd pack their things, take them out to the Impala, and then return to the room to make sure they hadn't missed anything to see that the messy sheets and blankets had gone missing, sometimes along with the towels. They kept assuming that it was the housekeeping. Very fast housekeeping.
Until they caught Cas at it.
The Winchesters stepped through the motel door and Sam bumped into Dean because his brother had stopped dead a few feet inside. Sam, more than tall enough to peer over his older sibling's head, felt his jaw drop and his expression matched Dean's almost exactly.
Standing in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like a dog that had been caught going through the garbage can, was the angel Castiel with the blankets of the motel beds bundled up in his arms. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Dean managed a completely confused,
"Cas?"
And in a flurry of wings, the angel was gone, taking the covers with him.
Dean looked back at Sam, his expression a mixture of things, "What the hell…was that?"
Sam didn't have an answer. But the bed sheets from the next five motel rooms all vanished along with towels, the occasional curtain, a rug that had been in front of one of the TV stands, and, on one occasion, the knitted picture of a cat in a frame. Neither Dean nor Sam could explain this odd behavior but both agreed that, when it finally ceased, it was all for the better.
Except then, two days later, all of Dean's socks were missing.
Needless to say, the oldest Winchester was not pleased and roared Castiel's name to the, well, to the Heavens, calling him a whole slew of rude things until the angel finally appeared.
"Where the hell do you get off taking my socks!" Dean shouted, stomping up to Castiel and prodding him hard in the chest.
Cas blinked and tilted his head to the side, "I am in need of them." Was all he said. Dean started ranting again about how they didn't have the money to go out and buy ten new packs of socks but Sam was casting a careful eye over Castiel. The angel looked harassed and not a little bit flustered. His trenchcoat was askew and almost hanging off of one shoulder, his tie was crooked, his hair was more mussed than usual, and…he was missing a shoe.
"Cas," Sam cut in to Dean's rant when his brother paused to take a breath, "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing." The angel said, switching that solid blue gaze to Sam instead.
"You're missing a shoe."
Everyone looked down. Castiel raised his stockinged foot off the floor and wiggled his toes through the fabric. He made a flat noise that seemed to say 'well, would you look at that, guys, I seemed to have lost my shoe somewhere, isn't that interesting?' and set his foot back down again. Then, without a farewell word or parting glance at either of them, he vanished again.
"What is this! What is wrong with him!" Dean glared at the spot where the angel had been as if this would make him reappear.
"Maybe it's his angelic monthly and he has a craving for his lover's socks." Sam said and then laughed, ducking as Dean hurled the television remote at him.
No one saw Cas for a week and he wouldn't answer their calls—phone or otherwise. Dean went from frustration to anger to pissy-I'm-pretending-not-to-notice to downright worry. He thumbed his phone whenever he got the chance, sometimes calling and sometimes just staring at the number on the screen. Sam had even caught him on his knees beside his bed, praying like a kid for Castiel. Any other time, he would have taken the opportunity to mock his older brother but Sam was worried about Cas too. The guy was an angel and he could take care of himself but it was odd for him not to show up, especially when it was Dean calling.
Cas always answered when Dean called.
By Friday, Dean was about ready to do a summoning, Sam could see it written all over his brother's face. In fact, he was pretty sure that Dean was digging through his bag through the appropriate ingredients when there was a rush of wings and a soft breeze.
"Cas!" Dean shouted as he spun around, "It's about goddamn time you—!" And he froze because it wasn't Cas.
"Sorry, Dean-o, I'm not your angel." Gabriel had his trademark smirk on as he leaned against the wall, "But I have been looking for him. You haven't seen him, have you?"
Sam saw the raging argument building on Dean's lips and quickly said, "Not for a week now. He's been acting…really strangely." When Gabriel quirked an eyebrow in question, Sam continued, "First he was taking stuff from our motel rooms—towels and bedsheets and stuff—and then he…took all of Dean's socks."
Gabriel blinked and then threw his head back and outright laughed. Dean frowned and glanced at Sam who shrugged and looked back at Gabriel. When the Archangel finally decided to get a hold of himself, he wiped the tears from his eyes, sniffed, and looked at Dean.
"You two are an item, yeah?" Dean huffed out a nod, crossing his arms as he glared at Gabriel, "He's just—" The Archangel stifled another laugh, "He's just making the necessary preparations."
"And what does that mean?" Dean snapped, quickly loosing his patience with the other angel.
"Oh, no, no, no." Gabriel waved his hand through the air, still looking like he was trying to stop himself from bursting out laughing again, "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Send me pictures! I'll start making a scrapbook!" He straightened up, mouth still quirked in a half-manic grin, "Just know, Dean, that whatever happens, you have my blessing to keep making hot angel sex to my little brother."
Dean was already unfolding his arms and striding forward to start throwing punches but Gabriel had already winged away. His laughter echoed in his wake. Sam avoided talking to Dean for a good hour in case his brother still felt like throwing punches at things.
What Castiel was preparing for came to light a few days later.
Dean was still stung that Cas hadn't been answering their calls and he ended up either being extremely mopey or extremely grumpy. Sam just stayed out of his way though he was starting to wonder as well. Gabriel had been rather vague about what Castiel was preparing for, only hinting that it might involve Dean. Sam trusted Cas but the angel had been acting very strangely so it was reasonable he should have worried about his brother's safety if Cas was starting to lose it.
He needn't have worried.
Dean had just exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist after a long shower, and Sam was just starting to bitch at him for using all the hot water when there was a flutter of wings and Castiel appeared right between the two of them. He stared hard at Dean who took a step back in surprise before remembering that he was supposed to be angry with the angel.
"Cas, what the hell? Did you forget how to answer your phone? Or did you—."
"You are not clothed. Excellent." Castiel cut in and that brought Dean up short.
Red blossomed across the oldest Winchester's face and he looked over Cas' shoulder at Sam who was simply staring open mouthed at the both of them. Dean looked back at Castiel who was still wearing that ever impassively blank expression, "Um, wanna run that by be again?"
"Clothing is not mandatory." Cas said as if he was commenting on the weather, "It is better without. You need to come with me. Now."
"Actually I'd really like to get some—."
"No." Castiel reached a hand out, grabbed Dean's arm, and vanished, leaving Sam alone in the motel room.
The empty towel collapsed to the floor.
Dean didn't know where Cas had dragged him to but it looked like someone's basement. Someone's abandoned basement with cracks running up the walls, the heavy smell of mold and dust hiding underneath the scent of the flowers scattered in jugs and vases all over the room, and the only light was pathetic, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling that was as naked as Dean.
The hunter wrapped his arms around himself and turned on the spot, looking for Cas. When he did find the angel, he froze, eyes wide, almost unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Pushed into one corner of the basement, made up of all of the blankets, curtains, towels, rugs, and socks, was a giant…nest. Cas must have used angel mojo to weave it all together because it looked pretty impossible; a great, bowl shaped mound of fabric. And sitting right in the middle of it, sans all of his clothes, was Castiel, wings out and looking expectantly at Dean. Lights danced across the walls and colors splashed across the floor.
"Cas…what is this?"
Cas' blank expression suddenly screwed itself up into something like he was trying to remember something just on the tip of his tongue, "It is a…a nest."
Dean tried his best not to laugh, "Like, seriously, like a bird nest? Cas, what the hell?"
Cas frowned and his wings flared wide, "I saw on the television that some birds will take shed feathers or leaves and twigs from trees their desired mates have nested in to build a nest for both of them." He cocked his head to the side, wings still spread out so that the light-feathers brushed the walls and left glittering trails of gold and stardust across the aged cement, "I am expressing my desire to be your one and only mate, Dean Winchester."
To Dean's credit, he didn't laugh. He just chuckled and padded across the cold cement floor to clamber carefully into the nest, "Cas you are such an idiot." He took one of the angel's hands in his own and pressed it against the brand on his shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that when you marked my soul as yours, I was going to be your one and only no matter what happened."
A deeper frown, this one of confusion and misunderstanding, slowly creased Castiel's forehead, "But I thought a mating ritual was—."
"Cas, do I look like a bird to you?" Dean cut in, leaning forward so that his nose was almost touching the angel's. The nest was surprisingly warm in comparison to the rest of the basement.
Castiel blinked and then shook his head slowly before planting a light kiss across Dean's lips, "I am sorry, Dean, I did not mean to compare you to a small avian creature."
"Yep, I'm really insulted now. Guess you'll have to make it up to me."
"How?"
Dean grinned, "I can think of a couple of ways."
There was an unexplained thunderstorm over a small town in Arizona that night with furious claps or thunder, strong winds, and brilliant flashes of electric blue lightning that eventually shorted out a whole three blocks.
Later, there was another unexplained upsurge of bad weather in North Carolina when a hurricane ripped its way across half the state.
Castiel had discovered that Gabriel had lied to him when he'd said birds and humans had similar mating rituals.
