Work Text:
Castiel sighed unheard for the dozenth time from his spot on the rickety motel room table. Sam was on his laptop, completely absorbed in checking out some information Bobby sent over. There wasn't any really any precedent for being shrunken by the anti-Christ, but according to Sam they were going to treat it like any witch's curse. Since Castiel wasn't plastic anymore it may mean that it was degrading normally but they weren't taking any chances.
After what felt like an age the doorknob jiggled and opened, revealing Dean returned with two greasy white bags of diner food. He walked over to the table and Castiel watched his eyes scan the table before they stopped on him. Castiel lifted one hand in a short wave and Dean grinned down at him with a nod before setting the bags down a comfortable distance away.
"Bobby give us anything good?" he asked, noisily opening the bags and pulling out the enormous meal.
"Nothing so far, really," Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. Castiel watched in fascination as Dean pulled out a wrapped burger, a box of fries, and a small triangular container that from the smell contained pie. "Most curses tend to involve changing someone into something else, but not usually anything inanimate. More like a frog or a mouse."
The second bag revealed a black rectangular container that Dean passed over his head to Sam. It was clear on top and Castiel identified lettuce and small round tomatoes. A salad then.
"-but look at this," Sam was saying, turning his laptop. Dean leaned over, burger in hand now, and took a huge bite as he looked at the part of the screen Sam was pointing to. Castiel walked over, trying to look as well and didn't notice the glob of ketchup and sauce that fell like a rock from the sky right on top of him.
He was covered. Castiel wiped the ketchup from his face, looking down at the state of his coat in disgust. He turned to holler up at Dean to be careful when another condiment missile slammed into him. The force of it and the fact that he'd been moving caused his feet to slide out from under him, sending him onto his back with a grunt. He glared petulantly up at the dripping burger as it sent a thin dribble of grease and sauce down onto him.
"Ew, Dean, you're getting your burger everywhere!" Sam shrieked, jumping up and yanking his laptop away from the table.
"Calm down, it's just ketchup," Dean chuckled, smirking at his brother's dramatics. He grabbed a wad of paper napkins and Castiel only managed to lift himself up onto his elbows before they were tossed on top of him with barely a glance.
"You almost got it on my keyboard!"
Dean's hand pressed down on the napkins and Castiel let out a grunt as the air was pushed out of his lungs and the white paper turned red around him. Then he was roughly slid to the side and scooped up, part of the napkin curling over him and the worst of the stain as Dean folded it with his thumb.
"What? I wasn't even close, quit your whining. See? All clean now." Dean tossed the napkins into one of the empty food bags, where Castiel landed with a muffled thump.
Castiel shoved at the napkins that were rapidly drying onto his clothing. "Dean Winchester, you are going to be the death of me," he grumbled.
"Oh my god, did you use all the napkins?"
"Yes," Castiel replied needlessly, tearing a strip off one of the top unstained napkins and wiping his hands and face. His coat was already tacky and stiff, all of his attempts to clean it with his angelic powers proving just as unsuccessful as his flying did.
"You yell at me for making a mess, you yell at me for cleaning it up, make up your mind, Sam!"
Two fingers curled over the edge of the bag and started to drag it along, knocking Castiel on his ass and into one of the corners. He expected a face to be peering down at him, but instead the fingers just left and came back with small bits of food in them. The bits--onions, he could tell as soon as the first one hit the bottom of the bag--were the length of his forearm and there were so many. More and more came down, accompanied by Sam's grumbling.
"Seriously, did you ask for extra onions or something? This is gross."
"Why would I do that? Bad enough I had to order it in the first place."
The onions stopped falling and a moment later a plastic packet came hurtling down, landing next to Castiel with a splat and spattering him with the remains of ranch dressing. A balled up, greasy burger wrapper followed from Dean and Castiel found himself apprehensive at the idea of being in the trash bag. He stepped over to the side and placed his hands on the slick paper. They slid over the grease, unable to get a good enough grip so that he could rip the bag open. A corner might work better.
"Nope, no, this is disgusting. The entire thing tastes like onions now and I think the lettuce was turning brown."
"So? Eat it anyway. Oh come on, you're not really going to--"
The light from the top of the bag was almost completely cut off by the mostly full salad tray as Sam shoved it inside. Chunks of ranch-soaked lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers slid wetly down onto Castiel into a heaping pile. Thankfully he wasn't completely buried, but it was still difficult to shove the clumping salad away so he could climb out of it.
"Give me your fries."
"What? No! Not my fault you threw your food away."
"But I'm hungry!"
"You should've eaten what I gave you! Here, you can have some fries, but you're not touching my pie."
"I don't want your stupid pie."
Castiel was debating the possibility of climbing the salad tray when something else fell into the bag. It was small but sharp-looking and smelled of grease and potato. He picked it up, finding it a little longer than his hand but surprisingly hard. Determined, he carefully made his way over to a corner of the bag and stabbed his new weapon at it. The bag rattled but didn't tear.
"What was that?"
He paused, not wanting Sam and Dean to save him but not seeing any way around it. Resigned, he started hitting the side of the bag.
"Oh my god. Dean, where's Cas?"
Now they wondered about him.
"He was right here! I saw him when I came in!"
The bag was jerked to the side, sending Castiel tumbling into the relatively soft, if squishy, pile of discarded salad. The tray was yanked out and the momentary brightness was replaced with Dean's face staring down at him wide-eyed.
"How the hell did you get in there?" he asked. Dean didn't wait for an answer before reaching in and scooping him up, much to Castiel's annoyance.
But he was out of the bag and Dean gently brought level with the tabletop. That didn't stop him from jabbing Dean's hand with his makeshift knife the moment he was on stable ground, however.
Dean jerked his hand away with a shout. He brought his other hand up to rub at the sore spot and squinted at Castiel. "Son of a bitch! What the--is that a fry? Did you just stab me with a french fry!"
Sam snickered behind Castiel, but stopped and sat back when the angel turned and pointed his fry-knife at him.
"I need to get cleaned up," Castiel demanded, looking back at Dean. "This is disgusting."
Dean looked about to argue, still holding his hand, but he and Sam exchanged a look over Castiel and he just sighed. "C'mon, I'll take you to the bathroom. We'll get your clothes washed up, too, and Sam can dry them with his prissy hair dryer."
He lowered his hand palm up and Castiel climbed onto it, immediately sitting down so he wouldn't fall when Dean moved. The counter around the sink was yellow and chipped, but he stepped out onto it when Dean lowered him again.
"Go ahead and...take off your clothes," Dean instructed softly, turning the faucet and testing the water. He reached over Castiel and grabbed a small cup, filling it halfway with water and putting it down next to him. "Put them in here so you don't lose a shoe or your tie down the drain."
Castiel did so, keeping note of each article of clothing so that he'd be sure they were all there later. He'd never realized that he wore so much. When his underwear were tossed over the lip of the cup, Castiel turned and walked over to the edge of the sink. Dean had plugged it up and added an inch or so of water to the bottom.
"Give me just a sec and I'll help you in, I'm just gonna grab the soap."
The sink wasn't that deep and it was obvious that Dean was just being overprotective in the aftermath of the food incident. Castiel sat on the edge of the sink and pushed off just as he heard Dean yell his name. The next moment he was in the water, his feet shooting out from under him and submerging completely. He wasn't hurt or in any danger, just startled a bit, and he quickly planted his feet on the bottom so he could stand. He coughed out some water he'd accidentally ingested and wiped his eyes.
"Jesus, Cas, just give me a heart attack, why don't you!" Dean grumbled, frowning. Castiel tilted his head back so he could look up at him but Dean was already looking away, focusing on cutting off a sliver of soap with his knife. He tossed the piece into the water with Castiel without a word and dropped another sliver into the cup that held the clothes.
More eager to be clean than to figure out what was bothering Dean, Castiel waded over to the soap and began to scrub it through his hair. Just being in the water helped him feel cleaner, but this was far better.