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The Shape of Wings

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Dean was pretty drunk as he got home. He felt slightly dizzy and somehow the doorways seemed to be narrower as normally.
As silently as he could he stumbled over to his bedroom door, trying not to wake Sam. He would be pissed enough tomorrow.
He fumbled for the door handle, not wanting to look down in case it made him even more nauseous. When he finally found it, he pushed it down and as he stumbled against the door it opened.
Dean let himself fall onto the bed, exhausted, when his eyes fell upon something, someone, out of place on his bed.
“C’s?” His speech was slurred and the words felt alien in his mouth. Only then did his slow mind realise what he saw.
Wings.
His mind cleared at once. His thoughts raced through his mind. An angel. Cas. Sitting on a bed. His bed. Fully clothed. But with wings. Wings. Full grown. Black as the night. And huge.
Dean slowly got up from the bed, his eyes never leaving Castiel. The angel looked at him with stale blue eyes, his gaze piercing through Dean’s soul.
He seemed totally normal, just as always. Except for the wings. Dean followed their edges with his eyes. The muscles on the top, spreading downwards into tinier tendons, covered with feathers. Feathers totally black, but looking light as a breeze.
At the tip of the wings the muscle followed the feathers down towards the end, making it perfectly round at the top and pointed on the bottom. They barely scraped the side of the bedroom walls.
Dean’s gaze flew back to Castiel’s face. The angel was still staring at him, but on his face ghosted a small smile. He was proud of them, Dean realised. And happy. For some reason, Cas was happy.
Dean’s shocked expression softened somewhat while he approached the bed again, this time more slowly.
Reluctantly he pointed at the wings.
“Am I supposed to see them?” His voice was low, barely audible, but he was sure the angel had heard.
Castiel’s smile widened and his head tilted a little, looking from one of his wings to the other. “No” He lifted his head slightly. At the same time his wings shuddered, as if he was stretching and relaxing the muscle.
Cas’ low rumble vibrated in Dean’s chest. He took a step back, his gaze trailing the wings again from where they emerged from Castiel’s back to the tips. “Then why…”
“I don’t know.” The angel stretched the wings wider and then folded them behind his back.
Dean stared amazed at the black tips peeking from behind Castiel’s back.
He couldn’t believe how they were able to lift a full grown man, as they looked so tender and soft. He took a step closer to the bed and sat himself down on the edge, his eyes never leaving the wings.
Castiel shifted, extending his crossed legs from beneath him and sliding closer to Dean. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and if Dean had stretched out his hand he could have touched him. But he didn’t.
The angel continued to smile, peering glances at Dean and slightly dangling his legs back and forth.
Dean tried to turn his gaze away, but now that he had free vision on the wings he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was amazed by them.
The way they emerged from Cas’ back, as if they didn’t belong to the body, but at the same time were so perfectly natural; they didn’t seem out of place, it was a normal extension of bones and muscles. The way they moved at the same time with the rest of the body, like a cats tail or just a human hand, but useful in so many other ways. The way the black feathers brushed against the angels skin, teasing, tickling, caressing. The contrast of the soft skin against the hard muscles, not used to be shielded from the wind by clothes. The way the light reflected from the wings, making them shine and seem like a black tourmaline but endlessly softer.
Castiel’s chuckle startled Dean from his observations. His gaze shifted to Cas’ face, eyes reflecting his awe and marvel.
The angel turned to Dean, his eyes glistering and smiling, and leaned forward. Slowly he spread his wings and took Dean’s hand into his. Castiel guided Dean’s hand upwards, towards his wing.
Dean didn’t want Cas to do this only for him. He feared that Cas wanted to make him happy, not thinking what the angel himself wanted. “Cas…”
But Castiel silenced Dean with his other hand, putting a finger to Dean’s lips. “It’s okay.”
Dean silenced and watched in amazement as Cas continued to guide his hand towards his wings. As he was only millimetres away, Castiel stopped and let go of his hand. Dean didn’t move, just sat there, waiting.
Slowly Castiel moved his wings, first shaking them slightly and then extending them in Dean’s direction.
As they came closer, Dean held his breath and tried not to move. He observed in amazement the movement of the wings, how the muscles worked together in perfect harmony, the feathers rustled and shifted, making them shimmer in the dim light.
The tip of the wing brushed against his hand, the feeling of light feathers vanishing as soon as he could feel them. Without thinking about it Dean turned his hand, following the line the feathers had marked on his skin.
His eyes went up to the angels face, tracing his wings back to the body. Castiel’s lips were parted in a loving smile, his eyes following Dean’s every movement, not out of concern but out of amusement.
Castiel rustled his wings slightly, as if a shudder had run through them. He looked at them for a moment and then looked back at Dean.
“You may.”
Caught, Dean squinted from the wings back to Cas. He dropped his head, embarrassed that his thoughts had been so obvious.
But Castiel moved a little closer to Dean, turning his body so that his wings where tilted towards Dean. Expectantly he looked at Dean, and as he saw that the man in front of him didn’t make any attempt to come closer, he sighed. “It’s pleasant for me.”
Dean’s head shot up and he stared at Cas. “You like it?”
The angel huffed a laugh. “Yes, Dean, I like it. That’s what pleasant usually means.” His glance derived to the wall behind Dean’s back. His expression turned more serious, longingly. “It’s quite agreeable. No one has caressed them in a long time.”
The older Winchester pulled himself together and slid closer to the angel before him. Tentatively he stretched his hand until it barely touched Castiel’s wing. He brushed along the edge of the wing, sliding his hand from the beginning where it protruded from Castiel’s back to the very ending. The last few feathers still touching his hand, he paused, looking at Cas as he felt him shudder slightly.
The angel had turned his eyes to Dean, the blue seemed even more radiant than usual. He felt him shudder again, and his mouth parted slightly.
“Please don’t stop.” Castiel whispered under his breath. “Don’t ever stop.”
And Dean continued to stroke the angels wings, and he would continue doing so as long as Cas wished.