Holy Oil Wings
Title: Holy Oil Wings
Author: bballgirl3022
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or make money from this fanfiction.
Summary: Someone puts burning holy oil on Castiel’s wings.
Word Count: 1,104
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of Dean/Castiel, an enemy puts burning holy oil on his wings.
Thanks to moonofblindness for the beta work. All other mistakes are my own.
Holy Oil Wings
They manage to put the fire out, but not before it does irreparable damage.
Castiel is in pain. He’s sobbing uncontrollably into Dean’s shirt. It hurts Dean to see his usually stoic angel showing such an intense display of emotion.
Dean is soothing Castiel as best he can; rubbing his back and whispering that everything will be fine. He isn’t entirely sure that last part is true. Castiel already has a complex about the state of his wings because of his trip to hell, and this latest event isn’t going to help matters.
It’s a sad thing really because Dean loves Castiel; loves everything about him, including Castiel’s tattered wings.
The angel whimpers as Sam applies ointment to the inky black wings. Dean isn’t exactly happy that his brother is touching his angel in such a manner, but Dean knows he can’t both comfort and heal Castiel at the same time.
“Hurts, Dean,” the angel mutters pitifully into Dean’s neck. The hunter’s heart clenches painfully at the admission. It crushes Dean to know he can’t fix this.
“I know, Cas. It’ll get better once Sam gets the ointment on.” Or at least that’s what Dean hopes will happen as he hugs Castiel tighter to him in an attempt to offer more comfort to his distraught angel.
*****
The trio manages to get back to their motel room. The ride over seems to last an eternity. Castiel’s wings don’t fit into the Impala on a good day, and today is not a good day. Dean lets Sam drive them back because Dean is all worked up and much too worried about Castiel to get them anywhere safely.
It’s not unprecedented either. Castiel makes a pained noise at every minute shift of the car. Dean allows Castiel to hold his hand for the entire ride; the angel’s grip is so tight that Dean’s fingers are completely numb.
Sam offers to stay with them for the night, but Dean shoos him away claiming he can handle it.
The angel collapses in exhaustion onto the bed as soon as they enter the room. Dean is certain that Castiel has no plans to move from that spot anytime in the near future.
Dean busies himself with moving around the furniture so that Castiel’s wings aren’t drooping and he won’t wake up with a horrible backache in the morning.
Once done, he quickly shucks out of his clothes and slips in beside Castiel, without jostling his wings too much, and presses himself into Castiel’s side. He drapes an arm across Castiel’s lower back to both soak up the warmth of Castiel’s skin and offer comfort should it be needed.
*****
Morning finds Castiel tangled around Dean’s body. From what Dean can see Castiel’s wings have healed a great deal. The parts that were an angry red color have now turned pinkish. There are a few bald sports on the left wing and a much larger one on the right. Many of the feathers are mussed and some are sticking out at odd angles.
Castiel must notice the objects of Dean’s gaze because he shifts to get space in order to cloak his wings. Dean goes with the movement and ends in Castiel’s lap. The angel’s face is cherry red a clear sign of his embarrassment.
“Don’t put them away,” Dean says seriously, his eyes lock on the angel’s bright blue ones.
“Yes. Let me,” Castiel pleads, but he gives up easily when Dean doesn’t move from his spot. The angel hides his face in the juncture of Dean’s neck. “They are so ugly.”
The hunter kisses Castiel’s stumbled jaw, “They aren’t ugly. Nothing about you is ugly.”
“You are biased.” Dean can’t see it, but he knows there is a pout on the angel’s face.
Dean chuckles. “I’ll always be biased when it comes to you. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Dean doesn’t think he will ever be able to not see Castiel as the pure shining being that makes up his weird ass friend.
The angel is going to make a protest because God knows he can’t let anything go. Dean sets to prove what he says is true through his actions. Kisses and caresses do wonders in proving Dean’s theory about his love for Castiel. It’s also good for shutting Castiel up and making him relax. The hunter’s touch never ceases to turn Castiel into goo.
The hunter carefully avoids brushing against Castiel’s wings; a fact that doesn’t go noticed by the angel. “If they are not displeasing then why do you not touch them?” Only Castiel would take Dean’s avoidance as a personal slight as opposed to Dean caring for his well-being.
“Your wings are injured and I’m not going to make them worse for my own selfish desires.” The angel only stares in response. Dean can tell Castiel doesn’t quite believe what the hunter has just said.
“How about,” he starts as he runs his hands down Castiel’s back. It’s a dirty trick on Dean’s part, but he’s never been one to play fair. “I get some of that ointment and put that on you. Then we’ll both be happy.” Dean will get to care for his angel and Castiel will get the touch he craves.
Castiel nods, but is reluctant to allow Dean’s warmth to move away even for a minute. Dean is quick though. He snatches up the desired item from his duffle and plants himself at the angel’s side. This way they are still touching but Dean has a better angle at which to put the ointment on the wings.
Some hours later when Sam stops by, Castiel’s wings are barely half done and the two have lost a majority of their clothes. Dean would have finished a while ago, but they kept getting distracted. Castiel’s moves become more bold as the haze of pleasure takes over. Dean allows himself a few good gropes, his conscious feels better about it while his hands are saturated with ointment.
Castiel is in the midst of sucking a bruise on Dean’s chest when Sam knocks. Dean shouts at his brother that they are fine and he should go away.
By the time they do emerge it is well into evening. The hunter is sporting a blissed out grin and the angel’s cheeks are tinged pink. Sam just rolls his eyes and calls them both lazy-asses before making his way to the Impala. He is certain the two will follow so they can get out of this town and drive on to the hunt in Tallahassee that Sam spent the day finding for them.
Author: bballgirl3022
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or make money from this fanfiction.
Summary: Someone puts burning holy oil on Castiel’s wings.
Word Count: 1,104
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of Dean/Castiel, an enemy puts burning holy oil on his wings.
Thanks to moonofblindness for the beta work. All other mistakes are my own.
Holy Oil Wings
They manage to put the fire out, but not before it does irreparable damage.
Castiel is in pain. He’s sobbing uncontrollably into Dean’s shirt. It hurts Dean to see his usually stoic angel showing such an intense display of emotion.
Dean is soothing Castiel as best he can; rubbing his back and whispering that everything will be fine. He isn’t entirely sure that last part is true. Castiel already has a complex about the state of his wings because of his trip to hell, and this latest event isn’t going to help matters.
It’s a sad thing really because Dean loves Castiel; loves everything about him, including Castiel’s tattered wings.
The angel whimpers as Sam applies ointment to the inky black wings. Dean isn’t exactly happy that his brother is touching his angel in such a manner, but Dean knows he can’t both comfort and heal Castiel at the same time.
“Hurts, Dean,” the angel mutters pitifully into Dean’s neck. The hunter’s heart clenches painfully at the admission. It crushes Dean to know he can’t fix this.
“I know, Cas. It’ll get better once Sam gets the ointment on.” Or at least that’s what Dean hopes will happen as he hugs Castiel tighter to him in an attempt to offer more comfort to his distraught angel.
*****
The trio manages to get back to their motel room. The ride over seems to last an eternity. Castiel’s wings don’t fit into the Impala on a good day, and today is not a good day. Dean lets Sam drive them back because Dean is all worked up and much too worried about Castiel to get them anywhere safely.
It’s not unprecedented either. Castiel makes a pained noise at every minute shift of the car. Dean allows Castiel to hold his hand for the entire ride; the angel’s grip is so tight that Dean’s fingers are completely numb.
Sam offers to stay with them for the night, but Dean shoos him away claiming he can handle it.
The angel collapses in exhaustion onto the bed as soon as they enter the room. Dean is certain that Castiel has no plans to move from that spot anytime in the near future.
Dean busies himself with moving around the furniture so that Castiel’s wings aren’t drooping and he won’t wake up with a horrible backache in the morning.
Once done, he quickly shucks out of his clothes and slips in beside Castiel, without jostling his wings too much, and presses himself into Castiel’s side. He drapes an arm across Castiel’s lower back to both soak up the warmth of Castiel’s skin and offer comfort should it be needed.
*****
Morning finds Castiel tangled around Dean’s body. From what Dean can see Castiel’s wings have healed a great deal. The parts that were an angry red color have now turned pinkish. There are a few bald sports on the left wing and a much larger one on the right. Many of the feathers are mussed and some are sticking out at odd angles.
Castiel must notice the objects of Dean’s gaze because he shifts to get space in order to cloak his wings. Dean goes with the movement and ends in Castiel’s lap. The angel’s face is cherry red a clear sign of his embarrassment.
“Don’t put them away,” Dean says seriously, his eyes lock on the angel’s bright blue ones.
“Yes. Let me,” Castiel pleads, but he gives up easily when Dean doesn’t move from his spot. The angel hides his face in the juncture of Dean’s neck. “They are so ugly.”
The hunter kisses Castiel’s stumbled jaw, “They aren’t ugly. Nothing about you is ugly.”
“You are biased.” Dean can’t see it, but he knows there is a pout on the angel’s face.
Dean chuckles. “I’ll always be biased when it comes to you. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Dean doesn’t think he will ever be able to not see Castiel as the pure shining being that makes up his weird ass friend.
The angel is going to make a protest because God knows he can’t let anything go. Dean sets to prove what he says is true through his actions. Kisses and caresses do wonders in proving Dean’s theory about his love for Castiel. It’s also good for shutting Castiel up and making him relax. The hunter’s touch never ceases to turn Castiel into goo.
The hunter carefully avoids brushing against Castiel’s wings; a fact that doesn’t go noticed by the angel. “If they are not displeasing then why do you not touch them?” Only Castiel would take Dean’s avoidance as a personal slight as opposed to Dean caring for his well-being.
“Your wings are injured and I’m not going to make them worse for my own selfish desires.” The angel only stares in response. Dean can tell Castiel doesn’t quite believe what the hunter has just said.
“How about,” he starts as he runs his hands down Castiel’s back. It’s a dirty trick on Dean’s part, but he’s never been one to play fair. “I get some of that ointment and put that on you. Then we’ll both be happy.” Dean will get to care for his angel and Castiel will get the touch he craves.
Castiel nods, but is reluctant to allow Dean’s warmth to move away even for a minute. Dean is quick though. He snatches up the desired item from his duffle and plants himself at the angel’s side. This way they are still touching but Dean has a better angle at which to put the ointment on the wings.
Some hours later when Sam stops by, Castiel’s wings are barely half done and the two have lost a majority of their clothes. Dean would have finished a while ago, but they kept getting distracted. Castiel’s moves become more bold as the haze of pleasure takes over. Dean allows himself a few good gropes, his conscious feels better about it while his hands are saturated with ointment.
Castiel is in the midst of sucking a bruise on Dean’s chest when Sam knocks. Dean shouts at his brother that they are fine and he should go away.
By the time they do emerge it is well into evening. The hunter is sporting a blissed out grin and the angel’s cheeks are tinged pink. Sam just rolls his eyes and calls them both lazy-asses before making his way to the Impala. He is certain the two will follow so they can get out of this town and drive on to the hunt in Tallahassee that Sam spent the day finding for them.