Title: Angels Have Bad Days Too
Author: vaderina
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None (though Castiel may fall on you)
Word Count: 2110
Summary: Castiel wants to stay with the Winchesters on a bad day. He also gets new clothes.


Castiel left shortly after receiving his pendant, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dean had a little time to himself before Sam returned. Although he was sure Sam didn't miss the slight shift of his mood, he was grateful for his little brother's lack of voicing the matter.

At the present time, they were in another motel a few states over trying to make sense of the hunt Cas had tipped them off on, a few beers in hand to help them along. The small town also had an army surplus store where, after a drunken idea, they had stocked up on clothes for Cas. A pair of thick dark blue jeans, a tight, slightly deeper cut, black t-shirt (Dean maintains that he would never have bought that sober) and a blue hoodie (again, Dean heavily blames alcohol on the colour of his choice having anything to do with Castiel's eyes). The case they were meant to be working didn't look promising. And if it was anything supernaturally orientated, it has long since upped camp and left.

They were just enjoying a bit of downtime, wondering when they could give Cas his clothes. Suddenly, there was a loud bang emitting from the closed wardrobe. What sounded like a series of further thuds as though someone were trying to get out. A gravelly, profoundly heartfelt 'fuck' was muttered before the doors burst open and Castiel stumbled out bringing half the content of the wardrobe with him. The brothers stared in disbelief as the off balance angel tried to stay upright.

Sam stifled a laugh while Dean looked on, half surprised, half bemused. Looking the the angel, he noted that even by his usual standards, Castiel looked messy. His tie was hardly done up, the knot resembling more a loose loop than anything. His coat was falling off one shoulder and his shirt was untucked a rumpled. And his usual dinner jacket appeared half lost, twisted behind his back and under the askew coat. Once the angel was steady on his own feet again, he looked at the staring Winchesters sheepishly.

"Nice entrance Cas." Dean greeted.

"Hey, nice bling Cas." Sam's eyes zeroed in on his his pendant suspiciously. Castiel blushed at the silently querying compliment and tried to step closer to the Winchesters. However, a pair of trousers had wrapped round his ankles and as he tried to move, he lost balance. With as much grace as a drunken bush-baby, Castiel landed wide eyed on his back with a winded 'oof'. Sam lost it at that point. Raucous laughter filled the room and mirth filled tears ran down his cheeks, he didn't even bother to try and control himself. Dean looked between the hapless angel and his brother doubled over with hysterics and shook his head with a grin.

Castiel pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at the brothers, irritation meeting embarrassment written all over his face in a pout. Dean got up, placing his beer on the table and walked over to Castiel, offering a hand to pull him up. Ignoring Dean, Castiel removed the offending pair of trousers from his ankles and got up.

"Everything ok?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded, his trademark frown making an appearance.

"I think I'm having what you'd describe as a 'off day'."

"No shit Sherlock!" Sam managed to groan out between guffaws of laughter. This just earned him a frown with a head tilt.

"Ignore him." Dean advised. "Anyway, nice of you to uhm...drop in on us. Literally. What do you need?"

Castiel turned his full attention to the elder Winchester.

"I..." he stalled, looking for words to express himself. "I..." another silence and a deeper frown. "I didn't think it was safe for me to continue my search in my current condition. Nor to be on my own. I wanted to know if I could 'lie low' with you for a while."

Dean smiled despite himself and an almost gentle 'of course' accompanied the nod he gave. Castiel let out an almost sigh.

"Dean! Dean! Dean!" Sam was still chuckling to himself but seemed overcome with excessive excitement.


"Give him the bag Dean! The bag. You know. The bag?!" Sam almost couldn't contain himself. With a roll of his eyes, Dean left to get the bad from his car.

"So, Cas. What's with the new style statement?" Sam started, looking pointedly at the pendant round Castiel's neck. "An amulet to find Lucifer? That would be neat. You have one for God, not another for the Devil?"

"No Samuel. This was given to me by Dean. It has no function other than being a gift." The statement was followed by an awkward silence.

"Oh." was all Sam could say, swallowing loudly. "I, uh, didn't know. About the gift. It's nice. Dean rarely gives gifts. I mean, he's nice and all, but gifts aren't his strong point, I mean, emotions and shit aren't, just, I'll shut up now." rambling when embarrassed was Sam's speciality.

"Oh." Castiel mirrored him, a hand snaking up to clutch his newly acquired pendant.

"It's good though." Sam was trying desperately to back pedal, "it means he likes you." If only that hadn't come out so bad Sam thought. But the softening of Castiel's features into an almost smile was worth the innuendo he guessed. And it's no like Cas would take it like that. Thank God for his literal angels.

Further conversation was cut short by Dean reappearing with the bag. The brothers exchanged a look before Dean turned to Cas.

"We thought you could do with these." He gave Castiel his second ever gift by holding it out towards the confused angel. "I hope they fit, we had to guess the sizes".

Castiel gingerly took the proffered bag and gave it a curious glance.

"Clothes." he said. Dean and Sam nodded.

"Though it would be more practical. And that it would suit you." Sam said. The brothers looked at Cas as he gazed back at them.

"Thank you. For your kind consideration."

Dean grinned and patted Castiel on the shoulder as one of the bag handles snapped and the contents spilled out. Sam snorted softly as Dean shook his head again with an air of disbelief.

"Why don't you get changed? The bathroom's there." Dean said.

"Dude, you think it's safe for him to be on his own?" Sam suggested, only half joking. "Anyway, what is it with you? You aren't normally like this."

"Angels have bad days too. But like most other things, perhaps a little more extreme than humans." Castiel said, picking up his new clothes. Standing, he started towards the bathroom, only stubbing his toe on the floor once and knocking a lampshade onto its side. As the door closed a little more forcefully than usual (it seemed even shutting a door couldn't be done without it slipping out of his hand) behind Castiel, Sam turned to Dean.


"Two things. One, you sure he's going to be OK on his own in there? And two, since when do you buy people expensive looking gifts? You don't even buy me anything and last I checked, I was your favourite person. So what's going on between you two?"

"I felt bad for him. He's not had anything to call his own before, you heard him. So I thought, he has borrowed my pendant, maybe he'd want one of his own. So nothing is going on between us." Dean flushed as he hurried out the words. "And yes, I think he will be fine. He's only a few millennia old so surely he can do the simple task of getting changed."

As if on cue, a loud clatter and a thud could be heard along with a choice few words from behind the door. With a world weary sigh Dean made his way over to the shut door and knocked loudly.

"Cas, man, you OK in there?"

A muffled affirmative could be heard with a final thud as something made its way to the floor.

"I'm coming in Cas, you don't sound fine." Dean slowly opened the door to the sight of the angel standing flushed in the middle of the room. Letting out a slow whistle, Dean surveyed the damage inflicted upon the innocent room. Bottles of shampoo and other lotions were strewn across the floor and sink. The brothers' toothbrushes were somehow swimming in the toilet and the mirror was broken. Looking between Castiel and the mirror, Dean couldn't help suppress a grin.

"That's 7 years of bad luck in love you've just earned there."

Castiel just blinked at him.

"Need help? You look a little stuck." Dean continued, used to the lack of response from the angel. A small nod urged him on. Castiel's hand was stuck in the cuff of his shirt which also happened to be missing a few buttons. His tie was still round his collar, though now it had tightened to almost choking levels. Gently Dean teased the tie loose and slipped it off Castiel's shoulders. Then he undid the offending buttons on the cuffs and helped the angel out of it. Trying to give it back the its rightful owner, he was not all that surprised that rather than taking it, the shirt fell through the angel's reaching hand and onto the floor. Dean just smiled to himself while Castiel closed his eyes trying to contain his frustration then turned to pick up his new t-shirt.

"Whoa!" Dean's arm shot out to hold Castiel in place. "What the hell?" he asked, eyes glued to the other man's lower back. Castiel looked up craning his neck at an awkward angle.


"Your back." came the reply, as a hand reached tentatively out. Before they reached their mark, green eyes flicked up seeking permission from blue ones. A small nod and a gulp allowed him to proceed. Dean skimmed his hands over the marks. Large hand prints were burnt into Castiel's flesh, on on each side of his spine just under where Dean always imagined his wings to sprout from. Fingers fanning towards each other, the thumbs curling out towards his sides.

"What happened?" Dean asked more softly this time. Castiel bowed his head, sucking in a breath as Dean carried on exploring the burns.

"Cas? Who did this to you?" Dean moved closer and Castiel turned his back fully on him, colour creeping across his cheeks. When it seemed like he wasn't going to reply, Castiel let out a small sigh.

"I wasn't the only one who gripped tightly."

Dean's hand stilled as he stared at the back of the angel's head.

"You mean, I did that?"

Castiel just nodded. "After you stopped struggling, you gripped me as tight as I gripped you.

"I...I don't know what to say." Dean muttered as his fingers began tracing the hand prints again and feeling the shift of muscles underneath them. They stood in silence for a while, Dean still exploring the marks on Castiel's back. The angel shifted slightly, his face once more visible to Dean. His eyes were closed, face slack, and occasional crease between his brows when Dean got to a more ticklish spot.

"You like that?" Dean asked innocently. Castiel's eyes snapped open at his voice, body going tense. Taking a step back from Dean, he scooped up his clothes, fearful eyes trained on Dean.

"Cas?" Dean feared he hurt the angel. But the next moment, the angel was gone. With a sigh Dean shook his head and sat on the edge of the tub. With mild satisfaction, he noted that Castiel had left his trench coat folded neatly over the tub. With a small sad smile, Dean picked it up and folded it over his arm and with a final sigh he left the small room.

"So, let's see." Sam called as he saw his brother exit the room. Just a look from told him that he won't get to see it today.

"What happened?" Dean just shrugged.

"When he coming back?" Again, Dean shrugged.

"Is he coming back?" Dean glared at his little brother.

"Of course he is." because there was no way Cas wasn't coming back. Dean couldn't even contemplate that. Cas was coming back. He left his trench coat after all, didn't he?