He Dreams Of Flying

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
'He Dreams Of Flying'

Okay guys, I have a lot of stuff going on right now. It shouldn't interfere with this story since my files are on my ipod, but if I do end up updating late or something I trust you'll all forgive me? Okay, good, good. Enjoy this week's chapter!

I do NOT own Supernatural, nor do I intend to profit in any way from this fan work.

Castiel woke up the next day feeling groggy, his body seeming attached to the bed underneath him. He let out a groan as he glanced at his clock. He had woken up an hour early.
Knowing that trying to go back to sleep was a lost cause, he slowly stretched, arching off of the bed before softly settling back down, grabbing the spare blanket on the foot of his bed and covering up his torso up in an extra layer, reveling in the warmth. It was honestly much too hot in his little, stuffy room, but Castiel liked to overheat. It was a bit if a dilemma actually, he loved the snow but hated the cold.

He reached for his iPod, fumbling around on the dresser in the dark for a moment before his fingers finally wrapped around the rubber case, and he pulled it towards him eagerly. Using his extra blankets as a prop, he set it gently down on top of the pile and started Sherlock. He didn't get much time for that kind of stuff often, so it was nice to be able to have a moment to relax and do something for himself for a change.

He was on the first episode of the second season, halfway through it actually, when he glanced over at the clock and reluctantly paused it, getting up. He needed to take a shower this morning, it wasn't something that he could skip, because he'd already overslept and missed the opportunity yesterday.

He grabbed his towel and walked across the hallway to the bathroom, making only a quick stop to grab some clean underwear. (He didn't like walking around in just a towel- in a house with someone else, there was always that nagging fear in the back of his mind that he would drop his towel or something and it would be embarrassing for everyone involved.)
He looked in the full-length mirror, glancing at his reflection. It was one of the things that fascinated him, actually. How you could look into a special glass and suddenly, you were viewing yourself from an outside perspective. He wished that there was a mirror that worked for your actions and feelings, too. It would be so much easier to pinpoint what you were feeling if you could look directly at it.
Then again, Cas wasn't always sure that he wanted to know what he was feeling.

He slowly slid his pants off, then lifted his shirt above his head one inch at a time, focusing on keeping his wings from springing forth. He managed to keep them relatively still, and he smiled at the triumph. He was getting better at controlling them, despite never actually practicing.

He quickly unclothed the rest of himself, leaving his socks and underwear in a pile by the door.
He turned on the shower, waiting until the water heated up the proper amount to step into it. He flinched as it hit his wings, every drop seeming to remind him that he was never going to be normal, no matter what he tried.
Their weight started to increase as they absorbed a small amount of water, and he couldn't resist but shaking them out behind him. He had to admit that it felt good to move around a little bit; his muscles were so stiff...

He groaned a little as he stretched for once, his wings hitting the walls as he did. He angled them upwards more and stretched again, but he still wasn't able to completely stretch. They were six feet long after all. To keep them disguised, he had to wrap his feathers around his stomach and always wear clothing that was three sides too big.
He reached for the shampoo, applying a generous amount before he started massaging it into his scalp, humming softly. The water trailed down his skin, seeming to pick up his dirt and worry and stress like a snowball running down a hill picks up snow. He slowly relaxed into the water's touch.