Locked up [Destiel Prison AU]

Shut up

Despite himself, Castiel had almost managed to fall back to sleep when he heard Balthazar whisper, "Come to daddy."

Castiel turned his head, looking down at him over the edge of the bed. "Please don't call yourself daddy", he said, voice thick with sleep. "It's deeply disturbing."

Balthazar scoffed, sounding wide awake. "You're only jealous he's the only one who gets to call me that."

He had circled in on a corner where he supposedly thought the fly was hiding. Castiel had no idea how he thought he could see anything at all.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are", Balthazar chanted. Then he smacked the wall with the rolled magazine he was holding in his hand. Castiel groaned once more, and turned back to face the wall again. He was way too tired to deal with this right now. "Good night", he declared, not getting a response from his bunkmate.

It took surprisingly much time before the other inmates also began to complain about the noise. Balthazar had time to try to hit - and miss - the fly four or five more times before the first one hold him to shut up.

"Tell the fucking fly to shut up!" Was what Balthazar shouted back. "He's making way more noise than I am."

That seemed to do the trick, though, and suddenly, everyone was awake and complaining. From there, it was barely a matter of seconds before a guard finally appeared and told him to shut the hell up. Castiel was already drifting away by then, and barely heard the guard's statement about not being a babysitter for a kindergarten sleepover.

The next morning, Castiel felt great. Incredibly sore, he realized the instant he tried to climb out of his bed - but still great.

When he eventually had managed to climb awkwardly down the ladder - taking much more time than usual, due to his soreness – Castiel found Balthazar still in his bed. Castiel nudged him lightly in the side with his foot. "Wake up, sleepy-head."

The only response he got was a half-hearted groan.

"Too tired from being up all night hunting insects? There's lot of spiders in the showering room if you're looking for a new mission."

"Shut up."

"That was the exact thing all the guys in this block was thinking five hours ago", Castiel shot back, only earning a glare from his bunkmate. "Come on, let's go get breakfast." Castiel stretched his arms high up over his head, feeling them wail at the movement. Work was gonna be a bitch today, he realized.

Castiel was just about to use force to get Balthazar out of his bed, when Alfie appeared in the opening of the cell. "There's our football star", he exclaimed, a huge grin plastered on his face.

"What was that?" Castiel asked dramatically, trying to put on a straight face. "I didn't quite catch that? Would you mind repeating it? Perhaps a little louder."

"Balthazar was wrong; you were right?" Alfie tried, quickly catching on.

"There it is, now I finally heard you." Castiel nodded, pleased. "We should make a banner of that. Hang it up on over his bed."

"Okay, you two, very funny." Balthazar finally started to stand, with the pace of a ninety-years-old with arthritis. "But just to put it out there: you weren't that good, Castiel", he said, pointing, "also, you barely played."

Castiel waved dismissively at him. "Only details, my friend. You should be happier for me; jealousy isn't very becoming of you." And with those words, he turned around and strutted out of the cell. It would've looked really cool, had his friends not been so slow to follow that he had to go back to make sure they were coming.

As Castiel ate breakfast that day, he could almost feel the muscles pile on inside of him. "They should provide more food for the athletic stars amongst the inmates", he told Alfie and Balthazar. The joke was not found particularly funny by the latter one, which only made it funnier to Castiel.

His abnormally good mood lasted all the way up till the point where he stood in front of the wheelbarrow inside the tool shed, about to pick it up.

"Trying to use the force on that?" A familiar voice asked behind him.

Castiel threw Dean glance over his shoulder. "Something like that." He sighed. "Doesn't work though."

"Been there, done that. Takes practice."

"Do you think someone will mind if I just spend the day in here, practicing?"

Dean chuckled as he walked up to Castiel, accompanying him in staring at the wheelbarrow. "You can try and find out."

"Will do. Will you inform Lucifer of my absence?"

"I would rather not, as you would be rearranged to a mental hospital if I did, but it's your choice. I hear they have confyer beds there."

Castiel nodded, as if he was considering it. "Do they have quieter roommates too?"

In the corner of his eye, he could see Dean's face grow into a smile. "You don't care for the insect-hunting type?"

Castiel turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. "Even you heard him?"

Dean laughed, and shook his head. His cell was in a different hallway, Castiel finally remembered, feeling stupid. "But half the prison did and were complaining this morning."

"I don't blame them. I was so tired I could've slept until noon if he hadn't woken me."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Tough match?"

"My entire body aches", Castiel burst out. "I can barely move my arms, which is crazy, since I barely even used them." He threw out his arms as in a demonstration, regretting as they protested greatly, making him wince.

"They should've invested in a masseuse in here", Dean stated. As he spoke, he turned towards Castiel and casually wrapped his fingers around his shoulders, starting to rub them, startling Castiel. "But I suppose some people might argue that is a waste of resources, or some other bullcrap. There's always someone who just wants to ruin all the fun." Dean paused for a second. "You sore here? You seem tense."

Castiel wanted to tell him how little his tenseness had to do with him being sore, but he didn't exactly trust his voice at the moment, so he just shook his head no.

"Huh." He moved his hands downwards, and started to massage Castiel's upper arms. Castiel flinched, this time due to soreness. He could hear Dean chuckle lowly behind his ear. "And we have a winner."

"Is there any scientific evidence to support that massage actually helps with soreness?" Castiel asked as Dean went quiet. He felt like he had to keep up the conversation. Had to keep talking.

"Why? Am I that bad? You want me to quit?" He sounded almost hurt, but Castiel was ninety-nine percent sure he was just pretending. Nevertheless, he turned his head so that he could look at Dean, finding his face only inches from his.

"No, no, that's not what I meant", he assured. "You're actually very good. At it."

Dean grinned. "So it helps?"

Castiel hesitated. "I think so", he answered truthfully.

"Dean Winchester 1 - scientific evidence 0", Dean declared, sounding smug. He dropped his hands and stepped away. "Then my work here is done. You're ready to save the world, slash tear down something I still have no idea what was."

Castiel rolled his shoulders quickly, before quickly picking up the wheelbarrow, trying to look unaffected. "Great. Thanks."

"Same time next week?" Dean asked as Castiel passed him. Castiel opened his mouth the shoot back something clever, but he couldn't think of anything, so he just closed his mouth and nodded lamely. He could hear Dean's laughter echoing inside the building as he walked outside, wheelbarrow rolling in front of him, trying to ignore the aching of his muscles.