Castiel sat on a bench in a park in his favorite corner of Heaven. It was one of a small boy, only about ten. He'd died in a car accident 15 years ago, and his version of heaven was very pleasant. It was a sunny spring day in a park in Ohio, and the boy was throwing a ball around with his father. Castiel loved the simplicity of it, the sheer innocence. If he was in his vessel, he would smile. All of a sudden there was a ripple in his grace. A prayer. The angel closed his eyes and listened.

"Cas," Dean's voice rang out. "We kinda need your help with a case. If you could..poof down here..that would be spectacular."

Castiel opened his eyes and spread his wings, making sure they didn't bump into any of the Heaven the boy had manifested. He sometimes forgot he was not on Earth and his wings didn't simply pass through trees and walls and things. With a flap, Castiel sped off, regaining his vessel as he passed into the human world. He hovered for a moment, trying to sense where the prayer had come from. It seemed to be somewhere in South Dakota. They must be at Bobby's home, Castiel decided, and then flew there. He landed in the middle of the living room, right in front of the desk where Dean sat, flipping through a book. He looked up.

"Glad you could make it. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No, Dean, not at all. I was visiting a young boy's heaven. James, his name was."

Dean looked him up and down. "Right. Well, uh, I need to know if this is angel business or not."

Castiel blinked and replied, "What is it?"

"Uh, there's been four deaths in a town in Indiana. Exploded completely, from the inside out. Like there was a bomb inside them, but there wasn't. I've never seen anything like it."

Cas walked around to the other side of the desk, bending over Dean and looking at the newspaper clipping. He squinted.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps we should look at the scene. It would be easier for me to tell you if I could see it."

"Alright. Guess we'll leave tomorrow then."

Instead of replying, Castiel stared at Dean, looking at his soul rather than the vessel that contained it. It was a beautiful mix of the sky blue of contentment, the yellow of happiness, and the light pink of love. He scanned over it once more, spotting a patch of blue that indicated sadness. The angel's grace responded to the soul it was tied to, reaching out with a burst of light pink. Castiel's vessel responded as well, reaching out with a hand to touch Dean's lips. The light pink turned into the deeper one that indicated pleasure. Dean gasped quietly. Castiel switched back to looking at Dean's actual body, and a smile crossed over him at the sight of the blush running across the hunter's cheeks. It almost matched the color of love in the soul. Cas pulled his hand away and Dean cleared his throat.

"Do you want to stay for dinner? I can cook hamburgers," Dean said.

"Yes, I would enjoy that very much," Castiel replied looking out the window.

At this spot on Earth, the sun was going down, giving backlight to the many broken down cars in Bobby Singer's yard. Cas looked at Dean again, the light illuminating his face, and making his eyes shine brightly.

"Dean," Castiel said, returning his gaze out the window. "Do you think we could visit Ohio someday?"

Castiel could feel Dean's emotions, and he was feeling a bit reckless. Dean reached out a put his hand on top of the angel's, rubbing a callused thumb over the top.

"Sure, Cas," he said gently. "Whatever you want."

Castiel sat in the front seat of the Impala, for a change. Sam was sleeping in the backseat, so Castiel came up to the front and sat with Dean. Unfortunately, this meant he had to completely fold in his wings, a very uncomfortable ordeal. He shifted them a bit on his back and one of the primary feathers came out of place. He grumbled and tried reaching back to fix it, but his vessel's arms couldn't reach. Disgruntled, he realized he would have to stretch out the left wing, which would pass right by Dean's head. He carefully unfurled it, the raven black monstrosity going through the seat. A shiver went through him, causing his wings to quiver and a couple of the soft, semi-plume feathers fell out, landing on Dean's lap.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled.

"I apologize, Dean. I was trying to fix one of my feathers," Cas said, reaching over and putting the offending feather back in place. He folded his wing once again, feeling it softly hit his back.

Looking onto his lap, Dean's eyes widened and he asked, "These...these are yours?"

"Yes. Does that bother you?"

"No. It's just..I thought your wings didn't exist here. And...aren't they, like, private? You know..intimate, or whatever?"

"You can see the feathers because they are no longer tied to my grace. And yes. An angel's wings are meant to be very intimate." Castiel paused. "I would let you see mine."

Dean choked on nothing. "Isn't that like- like seeing you naked or something, Cas?"

After a pause, the angel replied, "Yes, I suppose. I still would not mind."

Dean hesitated. "I think I'd like that."

Castiel smiled.

Dean flipped through channels on the TV of the motel room as Castiel paced back and forth. His grace seemed...wrinkled. Strangely irritated. He didn't like it.

"What's up Cas?" Dean said. "Why're you so nervous?"

"It's my grace, Dean, it's...it's acting up."

"What, like an allergy?"

"Perhaps. It seems to be...needing something. But I don't know what."

"You're probably just stressed," Dean said. He got off the bed and went over to the cooler, getting another beer. "Want one?"

Castiel paused. "Yes, please. This always seems to relax you. Maybe it will also help me."

"Yeah, maybe." Dean grabbed a second bottle of beer and brought it over to his friend, muttering about how it was a good thing Sam was out getting more beer. As he walked, Castiel looked at his soul, feeling drawn to the mark on Dean's shoulder where he had bonded his grace to the hunter. When Dean got close enough, Cas unconsciously put his hand in the exact same spot where he had as he pulled Dean out of Hell. Dean let out a soft moan, dropping the beer in surprise and covering his mouth with one hand. Castiel simply could not let go of Dean's shoulder, enjoying the waves of ecstasy that ran through him and his grace touched Dean's soul. Dean squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure, biting his lip. Finally feeling satisfied, Castiel removed his hand, feeling his grace being smoothed out. The hunter slowly opened his eyes and gasped.

"I-I can see them now. Your wings."

The angel blinked as a feeling of shyness washed over him and he folded them in a bit. He hadn't realized they had sprung out while he was bonding with Dean.

"They're beautiful," Dean whispered, his eyes wide like a child's.

Castiel slowly unfolded them, the lights in the motel room making them shine with rainbow iridescence.

"Can I touch them?" Dean asked quietly.

Cas nodded, watching as Dean gently stroked the feathers. He ran his hand into them and grabbed greedily, causing Castiel to gasp in pleasure. Dean looked at him for a moment, and then lost all control, leaning in and kissing his angel deeply. Castiel reached around to the back of Dean's neck, pulling him closer. In response, Dean tried to do the same, but grabbed the base feather's of Castiel's wings, clenching and unclenching. As a human, Dean didn't know that the base of the wings were the most sensitive, and he pulled away when Castiel moaned loudly into his mouth.

"Did I hurt you?" He said hesitantly.

Cas swallowed. "Don't stop."

Dean took that as a cue and grasped the feathers even tighter, eliciting more moans.

Sam whistled as he took the key from his pocket, switching the case of beer to one hand to open the door. He paused, hearing a lot of banging noises coming from inside the room. He set down the beer quietly, taking out the gun in his waistband. He backed up, ready to throw the door open when a loud call of "CASTIEL!" came from inside the room. Realization came over the younger Winchester as he stood, frozen in place, realized that that noise was the headboard banging against the wall. He turned on his heel and got back into the Impala, speeding off to somewhere where he would never have to hear that noise again.