Author's note: This fic was actually written before season 7 episode 17, but I changed it a bit after I saw the episode. No spoilers after season 4, episode 1, though, not really.

This sprung from the idea that what if Dean had wings because Castiel had saved him but couldn't see them until he had saved Castiel in return?

(Yeah, so, I'm a Supernatural-fan, too :D)

Dean stares at himself in the cracked, spotty mirror in the motel bathroom. He sees the lines around his eyes and mouth, deepened by the last few years, making him look older and hardened.

He remembers, not so many years ago, when he'd been called "pretty-boy" and "fag" and stuff like that on a regular basis – he blames it on his pouty lips, which he really couldn't help, but god had he hated them (that was why he grimaced and cursed and frowned, to hide the shape of his face).

But it isn't the face that disconcerts him this time, it is the empty air behind his back. He flexes his back muscles experimentally, and yes, he can feel the movement of muscles he had not been aware of previously and he can even feel the soft shwish of feathers.

Dean turns around quickly, spinning on his toes and there he sees a glimpse of them.

His wings.

Dean isn't one to dwell on things while he can do things, and so he gathers himself together and uses muscles he has no memory of ever using – it's like trying to waggle your ears (a trick Dean never mastered, even though both John and Sam had done it when they were younger).

Dean is rewarded with the soft noise of fluttering feathers (a noise he is familiar with, as it had been accompanied with Castiel's sudden appearance innumerable times).

And yet, he is startled when Castiel does appear at his side.

"Dean" says the angel, and Dean looks at him, gauging the distance between them and noting how the air almost crackles: it's thick, like the air before a thunderstorm in the summer.

It's as he was never gone, his dark hair is as unruly as it always was and the blue tie, although new, is still askew. The tan trenchcoat is absent: they never got the blood stains off.

"So, Cas", Dean starts, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds.

"Yes?" Castiel says, his impossibly blue eyes meeting Dean's gaze.

"You know, I suddenly got these wings. What the hell is up with that?" Dean sees the faint outline of Castiel's wings too, like a mirage. They're black and brown and blue, but how Dean knows that he couldn't say.

"Funny you should put it that way" Castiel replies without so much as a trace of a smile. "You have had them ever since I raised you from Hell and built your body anew."

(and kissed back every freckle on your skin, Castiel thinks, but doesn't say)

"What?" Dean says, immediately tensing up and the frown deepening, "wh – How come I can only see 'em now, huh Cas? I can feel them!"

Castiel looks down (dark lashes beautiful against his pale cheek) and he cants his body closer to Dean.

"To save you from Perdition, I had to give you a part of my Grace, Dean," Castiel explains carefully.

Dean doesn't know why, but he grabs Castiel by the arms and jolts him so that their eyes meet again.

"To have the Grace of an angel is to have wings, Dean," he finished evenly, but Dean still doesn't understand.

"But it's been years – why haven't I felt them before?"

"You didn't see them because it was before you saved me."

Dean gives a sound that is like a sigh or maybe a gasp and licks his lips uncertainly.

"Cas," he starts before he sees Castiel's eyes trail downward. Then, in one movement, Dean abandons all pretenses and tears down all walls.

He takes a step forward to press a kiss to Castiel's dry lips, and Castiel lets him.

Dean really knows only two ways of showing affection: By insulting or by seducing. And he thinks he's insulted Cas enough, and since Castiel doesn't seem to mind, he deepens the kiss.

Fingers tangle in the dark mess of hair, he feels the tantalizing moisture of Castiel's tongue against his lips and a hand cups his shoulder blade, making his newfound wings stretch and vibrate.

Dean gives a breathy gasp and Castiel hums in response and moves in even closer.

He feels the warmth of Castiel's wings wrap around him and his own wings meet them and the feathers tangle in a beautiful mess and it feels like nothing Dean has ever know.

"I could get used to this," Dean mumbles as they finally break apart for air, their wings still interwoven and tingling with both affection and arousal. And for the first time in a long time, Dean even smiles.

Castiel's lip twitch and he presses them against the stubble on Dean's jaw as he says:

"That's good, Dean. I don't intend to stop."