[ Before Castiel can even argue that none of this was Dean's fault, he's struck dumb by the word tootsies. What the fuck, Dean. For something that feels intimate and holy in the way of a disciple bathing her messiah's feet with her hair, Dean's joking makes it feel equally casual. Is this what friends do for one another? Massage their feet when they're sore? The mixed signals are dizzying. ]
The perks are innumerable, I'm beginning to find.
[ Body odor was the least of it. The lingering sensation of the skin rubbing off his heels with each step will haunt Castiel for days. ...That is, if he can focus on anything other than this moment, with Dean on his knees in front of him, replaying again and again. Castiel sips from his drink just for some form of distraction and muses aloud. ]
I thought shoes were meant to protect one's feet, not injure them. No wonder so many cultures prefer sandals.
[ Castiel's eyes narrow thoughtfully as he considers whether he should be insulted on Jimmy's behalf or put more concern into the idea of metal toes. He goes with the latter. ]
That sounds uncomfortable.
[ But surely being without toes would be more comfortable than the pain he experienced so deeply and for so long that it continues to linger. The stroke of Dean's fingertips is comparably gentle and incredibly distracting. He answers automatically. ]
Everywhere.
[ Pity him, Dean. :( He had a rough time and now he has owies. :( :( There's no sign of it anywhere on his healed and cleaned skin, though. At least, almost nowhere. There are small red marks on the back of each of his heels, like the ones just barely visible on his right hand: scars that hadn't quite healed with the rest, and likely won't until the complete revitalization of his grace. And because "everywhere" is a melodramatic answer more likely to get him sassed than to keep Dean on his knees, Castiel focuses slightly. ]
[ God, he's cute sometimes. Dean's grinning up at him, rubbing his thumb over the delicate bones of Cas' little footsie. ]
To protect your tosie wosies.
[ He's using his other hand to take hold of Cas' pinky toe and give it a wiggle, but then he does take pity and settles cross legged in front of the angel, foot in his lap. ]
Figured. Looks like you had some blusters on your achilles tendons too. Sucks.
[ He presses his thumbs gently into the balls of his foot, rubbing in small circles. ]
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The perks are innumerable, I'm beginning to find.
[ Body odor was the least of it. The lingering sensation of the skin rubbing off his heels with each step will haunt Castiel for days. ...That is, if he can focus on anything other than this moment, with Dean on his knees in front of him, replaying again and again. Castiel sips from his drink just for some form of distraction and muses aloud. ]
I thought shoes were meant to protect one's feet, not injure them. No wonder so many cultures prefer sandals.
no subject
[ He holds Cas' foot up to examine, look for blisters and bruises, running his fingertips over the top of his right foot. ]
Where's it still hurt? Head, shoulders, knees and toes?
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That sounds uncomfortable.
[ But surely being without toes would be more comfortable than the pain he experienced so deeply and for so long that it continues to linger. The stroke of Dean's fingertips is comparably gentle and incredibly distracting. He answers automatically. ]
Everywhere.
[ Pity him, Dean. :( He had a rough time and now he has owies. :( :( There's no sign of it anywhere on his healed and cleaned skin, though. At least, almost nowhere. There are small red marks on the back of each of his heels, like the ones just barely visible on his right hand: scars that hadn't quite healed with the rest, and likely won't until the complete revitalization of his grace. And because "everywhere" is a melodramatic answer more likely to get him sassed than to keep Dean on his knees, Castiel focuses slightly. ]
The heels, mostly.
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[ God, he's cute sometimes. Dean's grinning up at him, rubbing his thumb over the delicate bones of Cas' little footsie. ]
To protect your tosie wosies.
[ He's using his other hand to take hold of Cas' pinky toe and give it a wiggle, but then he does take pity and settles cross legged in front of the angel, foot in his lap. ]
Figured. Looks like you had some blusters on your achilles tendons too. Sucks.
[ He presses his thumbs gently into the balls of his foot, rubbing in small circles. ]
You good otherwise? No other injuries?