Supernatural One-Shots

Laundromat

A/N - inspired by Cas in the Laundromat in 9x01. I thought, "hey, imagine if he did this again but if Dean was with him", and thus this fic was born.

Cas woke to the sound of rapping on his bedroom door. He blinked his eyes open, dispelling the images of bright light and the sensation of free-falling to the earth.

"Cas?"

"Yeah," Cas called out groggily, stifling a yawn as he sat up. "Come in."

Dean edged his way into the room, a toothbrush in his mouth, and suddenly Cas sat up a lot straighter. Dean had clearly just taken a shower. He was naked save for the towel that was hanging lazily around his hips, the exposed skin still glistening with water. His hair was mussed up and darkened slightly by the water droplets that were dotted throughout it. Cas, unprepared for this sight at 9am, felt his breath hitch.

"We should go to the Laundromat this morning," Dean declared brightly, brushing his teeth as he did.

"Huh?" Cas responded hoarsely. He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting down to Dean's abdominal muscles, which had contracted while he was talking.

"We do have a washing machine here, but I'm thinking I could use an outing. I'm going nuts, cooped up here while all the monsters are apparently taking a vacation from - I don't know, whatever evil stuff the sons of bitches do. I need a change of scenery. Hey, are you okay? Your cheeks look a little warm."

Cas looked down in embarrassment, mentally cursing the flush that had started to work its way up his vessel's face, using a few choice Enochian phrases that would have horrified his superiors. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Dean surveyed him for a moment, toothpaste rimming his lips, before shrugging and resuming his toothbrushing.

"Plus," Dean continued. "It's been a few weeks since you've touched down to Earth, and one of the most riveting human duties that we must undertake is doing laundry. You'll love it. So, you in?"

Cas, unable to do much else, nodded in agreement.

*

Dean's face lit up as he walked outside the bunker, now dressed in his usual ensemble of plaid layers and blue jeans.

"Fresh air," Dean exclaimed, tipping his head back in exaggerated relief. He made his way over to the Impala. "And my baby! Hey girl, did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

Cas followed him, feeling himself smile involuntarily at Dean's reaction. Dean's love for his car was the one constant phenomenon in a world was filled with so much chaos. No matter what, Cas knew Dean's love for her would hold fast, and this was an incredibly comforting thought for the former angel.

They drove into town and pulled up in the small lot in front of the Laundromat. Cas and Dean grabbed the two baskets filled with their washing from the backseat and went inside.

The Laundromat was empty save for a girl who was standing in the corner. She looked to be about in her mid-twenties, dressed in ugg boots, a tank top and tiny denim shorts that accentuated her pleasant figure. She looked up from where she was loading her underwear into a machine and smiled cutely at Dean. Cas noticed that she was extremely attractive and typically Dean's type, and felt an automatic flutter of jealousy.

But Dean, after simply returning the smile and saying good morning, didn't spare her a second glance as he navigated their way to a free machine. The girl slumped her shoulders in disappointment and confusion. Apparently, she was not used to having her affections rebuffed.

"Ok, let's do this," Dean grinned, beginning to load the machine.

"That girl over there," Cas prompted, throwing a pair of jeans in. They were, like all the clothes he owned, borrowed from Dean's wardrobe.

"Yeah?" Dean replied, not really paying attention.

"She's pretty," Cas persisted in a questioning tone. Dean looked at him and then at the girl.

"Yeah, I guess she is," Dean conceded with a shrug, grabbing a shirt. "Why, you interested?"

"No," Cas assured. "But I thought you would be."

Dean stopped for a second, still holding the shirt. Cas couldn't understand why Dean now looked slightly panicky as he realised his behaviour. After a moment, he made an effort to look casual as he shrugged again. "Not my type."

"Really?" Cas exclaimed sceptically. "Skinny, pretty, substantial chest area? Not your type?"

"Guess not," Dean laughed, still looking slightly uncomfortable. He looked at Cas's clothes and frowned. "Those clothes look like they need washing too."

"What?" Cas said absentmindedly, still bothered by Dean's strange response. He looked down at what he was wearing: a greyed T-shirt displaying the Creedence Clearwater Revival logo, under a dark green jacket, and blue jeans that were worn at the knee. All of it was slightly too big for him, but he didn't mind. "Oh, right."

"It doesn't matter, we can come back tomorrow," Dean assured, waving it away.

"It's no problem," Cas countered, taking off the jacket. "We can just do it now."

"Cas?" Dean asked, eyes widening in alarm as Cas began pulling the t-shirt over his head. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Wasn't it obvious?

"Taking the clothes off so we can wash them," Cas explained in confusion, tilting his head at Dean as he shook off the shirt and threw it into the machine. He noticed Dean staring at his bare chest with his mouth slightly open, transfixed.

"Dean?" Cas inquired in concern, as he unzipped the jeans and pushed them down his loose in one fluid motion, leaving him in only boxer shorts. "Are you okay?"

Dean didn't answer, ignoring or perhaps simply not hearing what Cas had said.

"Cas - you're - I mean, you're - your clothes - you're naked - you - what?" Dean stuttered thickly.

Cas raised an eyebrow. The look in Dean's eyes was strangely similar to what he had seen in a certain pizza man's eyes long ago. Could that be - surely not - was that lust that he was seeing? Dean's eyes were currently completely focused on Cas's abdomen, as Dean's words trailed off into unintelligible mumbles. A steady flush was spreading across Dean's cheeks, and Cas was reminded of himself earlier that morning.

"Does this... bother you?" Cas asked incredulously, gesturing to his exposed skin. Dean shook his head mutely, not moving his eyes away.

Cas was dimly aware of the girl in the corner laughing to herself, as if the reason for Dean's disinterest had suddenly become obvious. Dean finally tore his eyes away and slammed the washing machine door shut. He shakily tried to start it, but it didn't respond.

"Damn thing's broken," he muttered.

"Dean, forgive me if I'm wrong," Cas advised, moving closer to slip his hand into Dean's shirt pocket. Dean looked about ready to faint.

"But I think you need money for these machines to work," Cas suggested, pulling out Dean's wallet and finding change to slot into the machine.

"Oh." Dean cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah."