Prompt: The story starts when your protagonist agrees to do something dangerous.
"Bobby, there is no room for a god damn wheelchair in the Impala."
Destiel.Fluff. PWP.
Dean always knew Ruby was a crazy, manipulative, demon-face bitch.
When Sam started getting sick, Dean was the only one not surprised when Castiel told them it was a parting gift from Dean's favorite person ever, something Ruby had tied onto Sam in case either of the Winchesters ever succeeded in killing her for good. A life-binding curse, or some bullshit like that. Stupid asshat witch.
So naturally, when Cas told Sam, Bobby, and Dean how to break the curse, it was Dean who volunteered to take the trek cross-country to find whatever skeevy thing she'd used to seal the curse. After a bit of arguing ("Bobby, there is no room for a god damnwheelchair in the Impala." "There'll be plenty of room after I run your ass over and flatten you into a pancake, you moron.") and a lot of whining ("If I'm the one cursed, I should be the one searching for the object!" "Quit your sissy-ass whining!") it was finally decided that Billy would be the one playing big-boy babysitter to Sam while Castiel joined Dean in his drive all over the U.S. of Apocalypse looking for whatever they needed to save him.
Lucky for Sam, it didn't take long for them to find it in some derelict tomb in Maine, once Cas had an idea of what he was searching for. And lucky for Dean, Bobby and Castiel had remembered to beef up the arsenal in the Impala's trunk because, well, the world was a clusterfuck and they stopped at least three times just to kill and exorcise their way through to their destination.
Of course, Sam would be even more lucky if Dean would stop being a crybaby and just let Cas mojo them back to Bobby's house before Sam died.
"I'mnot doing that mojo Star Trek teleporting shit," Dean repeated after another hour of driving on I-70, after another suggestion from Castiel that they'd have a better chance of keeping Sam alive if they'd skip the slow human transportation.
"Do you not trust that I will get us there safely?" Castiel asked, head tilted in that bird-like way that Dean found equally adorable and annoying.
"Of course I trust you," Dean said automatically, feeling his cheeks warm just a little bit (he refused to admit he was blushing because according to him, that was for "girls and sissies" and he was neither).
Castiel continued to stare at him with those big blue eyes that seemed to flay him and read every innermost thought, brows furrowing in confusion. "Then why?" His head tilted a little more. Dean worried about his head getting stuck like that one day.
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He had a laundry list of bullshit excuses to use, but none of them seemed good enough, believable enough. So when he did finally speak, it was with forced, hurried words. "I don't like putting faith in what I can't see or feel, ok? I can see my car, know how it works, know literally everything there is to know about this car, so I know it'll get us back to Bobby's place in one piece. But..." He trailed off, glancing at Castiel uncomfortably.
"I see." Castiel stared at him for a few more moments before looking out the car window. They drive in the uncomfortable silence for a few more miles before Castiel pointed to an off ramp and murmured, "Pull over there."
Dean frowned but complied, pulling off the highway and parking at an abandoned gas station. When Castiel got out of the car, Dean followed suit, asking, "What's wrong? Sense something?" He looked around the area quickly, searching for a target until Castiel shakes his head.
"No. I would like to try something." Castiel looks embarrassed for a moment, cheeks reddening. "With your permission."
"Is this gonna hurt me?" Castiel stared at Dean for a long time until Dean laughed nervously and said, "No of course not. Whatever it is, lets do it."
Castiel nodded and stepped up to Dean until there were mere inches between them. Dean could feel the heat and energy radiating from Castiel's body, seeping into his skin. The only thing Castiel said was "Do not move," before he leaned foward and pressed his lips to Dean's.
Dean doesn't have time for shock before he feels something warm in his mouth, trickling town his throat and curling in his gut. He closes his eyes, feeling thispresenceflow through his veins, making his skin break into gooseflesh as he shuddered.
It takes a few seconds for him to realize that Castiel had pulled away, and when he opens his eyes he can see them.
Castiel's wings.
Wings that are the color of his eyes, the color of the sky on a hot summer day, the color of the sea. Dean's eyes widen, taking in the scope of the things, in awe of what Castiel was letting him see.
"H...How?" Dean whispered, reaching out and delicately running a finger over one of the feathers, not surprised to find they felt as soft as they looked.
"I shared a part of myself with you, Dean," Castiel replied in the same hushed tones, watching Dean's face with what looked like fondness. "I thought perhaps if you saw them, you would not fear them."
Dean isn't listening though, busy touching and stroking those beautiful feathers, eyes as wide as any child's could ever be. "They're beautiful, Cas," he murmured, leaning forward to press his cheek against the downy of one of Cas's wings. His entire body felt warm, flushed. If there really was a God, how could He make humans after having such beautiful beings to surround himself with?
He closed his eyes for a moment before stepping back, face reddening as he looked at everything and anything but Castiel's face. He was acting like such a girl, getting all emotional over this. Castiel had only shared a part of himself with Dean to show him this, to alleviate his fear and uncertainty, had only shown him something that hadn't been seen by any other human in existence until him. This was pretty damn special, and it made his skin tingle thinking about it.
"I guess we can mojo back to Bobby's, or whatever," he finally said, voice rough as he glanced at Cas's face. Castiel smiled one of those rare smiles as he enveloped Dean in his plumage and, with a whisper of wings and wind, they were gone.