"How big are your wings, Cas?" Dean asks, suddenly looking up from his whiskey. Cas tilts his head slightly to the side.
"You are drunk." He states. "We should return to the hotel." Dean nodded amicably, leaning heavily on the angel for support as they walk from the dingy bar.
"Where are my keys?" Dean asks, searching through his pockets.
"You are too drunk to drive." Cas replies. He touches his fingers to Dean's head and they arrive back at the hotel in a flurry of wing beats.
"Wings!" Dean cries, remembering his earlier question. "How big are they?"
"You will wake your brother." Cas comments quietly, gesturing to Sam, passed out on his bed.
"What color are they?" Dean queries in a slightly softer voice.
"If I show you their limited form will you sleep?" Dean nods, eyes alight. "Very well." Cas pushes Dean down until he's sitting on his bed and takes a few steps back. He closes his eyes for a moment, then as he opens them again his wings appear, folded neatly into his back. He opens them slowly, face stoic as Dean looks on in awe.
"I thought angel wings were supposed to be white." He finally speaks, standing. Cas bites his lip as Dean steps forward. "Can I?" he asks, extending his hand toward the blacker-than-night feathers. Cas nodded and closed his eyes as Dean stroked gently through the feathers. "Why black?" Dean asks after a long period. Cas answers in a measured voice.
"All of the others in my garrison- all other angles in general- have white wings. The fires of hell scorched me when I raised you from perdition." Dean's eyes widened.
"Damn." Cas nods, slightly.
"Indeed."
"How… how big are they?" Dean asks, pulling his hand back to himself. "In their… limited form?" Cas obligingly stretches his wings out as far as possible in the small motel room. Dean smiles.
"They're… they're really pretty, Cas."
"Thank you." Cas said it so quietly, Dean almost missed it. "Now will you sleep?" Dean nodded and Cas's wings disappeared. Dean smirked and leaned his head on Cas's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"Thanks, Cas." He murmured, pressing his lips to the base of the other man's neck.
"Goodnight, Dean."
"Night, Cas." Dean stumbled into bed, kicking off his boots. It doesn't take long before he's asleep. Cas stood, watching him for a long time. No one had called his wings pretty since they had been scorched. His brothers and sisters saw their blackness as unnatural and wrong. As a failure to properly do his duties to their father- to them, his wings said he hadn't been good enough. But to Dean, it seemed to mean something else. He thought they were pretty. Something to be proud of. Cas allowed himself a smile before disappearing in a whoosh, leaving the boys to their sleep.
A/N This is the shortest fic I've ever written and my first Supernatural fic, so it's propably got a few kinks that could be worked out, but for 15 minutes of writing it's not bad, I think.