Author's Note: _
Another ch. but this time uploaded from school. I wrote this with my iPod so ill come and correct this later.
Castiel has to sit down or he'll more than likely topple over an onto the floor in a heaped mess. Dean guides him to the couch where Castiel huddles in on himself, arms crossing over his uneasy stomach.
"You alright Cas?"
Castiel beckons him to get the small trash can in the corner, proceeding to vomit into it once it's in the safe distance from Castiel's mouth. Dean sighs, sitting on the arm of the couch and rubbing Castiel's shoulders as he empties his stomach. Once he's done, Castiel falls back against the sofa and takes a deep breath, trying to level himself and his nausea out.
"I think I'm going to have to stay here with you for a while." Dean admits, setting the used trash can over to the side with a disgusted expression while Castiel wearily apologizes, "It's fine Cas- you don't know what's going on with your body right now."
"Damn straight I don't…"
Dean sits himself down beside Castiel, "Hey it's gonna be okay… I went through this too ya know."
"You did? …" Castiel mumbles, letting his head rest against his hands.
"Yeah… it's a transition to say at the least." Dean gets up, "If we don't get them out they might get infected Cas… They already look swollen and stuff. I can help you through this but I'm no doctor- if you get infected then you're on your own there."
Castiel stands up with some help from Dean, the man asking where Castiel's bathroom is and guiding the both of them there. Castiel feels like his stomach and brain have somehow connected and twisted themselves up into a fairly complicated knot- his body trying to figure out some way in hell to get them untangled. Dean sets him on the edge of the tub, Castiel's legs sitting in the basin as Dean turns on the water to hot. Soon Castiel's feet are surrounded by luke warm water as steam rolls up, making him feel minorly better for the moment. He relaxes as Dean gets stuff ready behind him.
"I'm going to have to cut the skin, okay? And before you freak out-" Castiel stops his heart from bursting somehow, hands gripping the tub to where it's almost matching it's whiteness, "it's not going to hurt at all. It's just a thin layer of skin, like when a scab peels."
"Nice comparison…" Castiel grunts.
"It's the closest thing I can think to describe it, okay?" (Really, it is.)
Castiel bites his lip, hearing Dean separate the flesh on his back and all of the sudden a flash of sensations assault him that he's never had before. It's like a whole new temperature near his back, and he shifts uneasily at the weird wetness he feels now that's never been there before. Dean grunts from behind him, and Castiel can feel his hands working through the slits to ease his wings out. The photographer nearly faints and falls into the tub, Dean catching him just in time with his arm and giving a sigh of relief.
"Scared me there, Cas."
"I'm not-" Castiel knows they're still stuck inside, "I'm not used to this… feeling."
Dean gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "I know Cas- it's weird at first. But we're almost there… Then umm- we're going to have to wash them…"
Oh, what's bad about that?
Dean goes quiet after that, focusing on getting Castiel's newfound wings out rather than making conversation- which works out because Castiel still feels like upchucking. It only worsens when his new wings slide out with a wet pop that sends his nerves and gut reeling.
"There we are-" Dean's smiling as he lets Castiel get a moment to process the new limbs on his back, "that wasn't too bad was it?"
Castiel trembles, hearing the dampened feathers shake behind him and rustle, feels them do it. It's all foreign to him, and he tries to stop himself from shaking- from what he doesn't know exactly. Dean turns the water on and clears his throat awkwardly.
"Do you mind if your boxers get wet? …"
Castiel tilts his head, a question he thought he'd never hear in his life let alone come from Dean Winchester himself, "Uhh- why?"
"I'm going to have to clean your wings… You don't know how to control them yet and it'll take you a while to learn how to clean them and stuff. I'll teach you later- besides, you look like you're about to pass out or something…"
"I might."
Dean lets Castiel strip down to his boxers, and the man thanks himself for only ever buying solid colors such as black as he sets himself down in the water. He feels like a little child right now, but hey- beggars can't be choosers.
Dean starts off by taking Castiel's right wing in his hand, taking some soap from nearby and squeezing it onto the feathers. Castiel squirms a little, not enjoying the slippery or cool feeling it gives him as the water sloshes around below. Dean hums some Metallica as he lathers the wing, Castiel relaxing a bit as the feelings start becoming a little easier to process.
"Dean?"
"Yeah Cas?"
There's a pause, "What do… What do my wings look like?"
Dean stops working in the soap and humming altogether, settling a little before answering, "They're… gorgeous."
Castiel reddens, looking at the small bubbles in the water rather than Dean, "Oh… Can I look at them in the mirror once you're done washing them, then? Or something else?"
"Of course."
Dean resumes washing then, Castiel still blushing a shade that would make even the ripest tomato jealous. This still feels weird for him and all, to be fair. He only finds it even worse to process as Dean washes off his new wings- the sensation weird in itself- and the runoff a faded crimson.
"Is t-that… blood?" Castiel whispers.
"Yeah. It's normal, so don't feel like you're dying or something. Mine were actually worse than yours are."
Castiel nods, "This is all just so… weird."
Dean snorts a laugh, "Yeah- you're telling me. I showed up here trying to fix things and next thing I know you've got these sprouting from your back."
"Fix things? You're talking about earlier, aren't you…" Castiel lowers his voice, feeling his wings droop with his mood a little, "About the whole feeling yesterday when you left or something…"
"Yeah that…"
Dean trails off for a moment, washing some of Castiel's brand new feathers even kinder than before. Castiel feels his wing move towards Dean, offering more angles for him to work out the clots and the shed them of the crimson lining their grains. Dean just hums a little again, Castiel watches as the tub's water shifts to pink over time.
"What I meant by fixing things-" Dean nearly makes Cas jump with how abrupt his sentence is, but the photographer settles back in the tub again while Dean cleans his wings, "is that I think I sort of made you uncomfortable yesterday. I didn't mean to, it just happened…"
"I wasn't uncomfortable."
Dean sighs, "Cas you're awful at lying so don't even try. Either way I just feel like I overstepped a boundary I didn't know we had, you know? I feel like I brought up something a little too personal or something for you and I just wanted to let you know… Well Cas, I'm sorry."
Castiel looks up from the bathwater for the first time, brows furrowing in confusion, "Sorry? You didn't do anything wrong."
"That's not the point Cas it's-" Dean looks away, biting his lips and then shaking off the reddened soap from his hands before getting up off of the covered toilet, "I need a minute…"
Castiel feels awful as Dean leaves, shutting the door behind him as he exits. Castiel's fresh wings settle against his back in a saddened way, the photographer feeling guilt rise up in him as he shifts awkwardly in the soap and blood laden water.
"Yeah… I'm sorry too…" he whispers.
Castiel sticks his wing out in front of him, surprised to see that Dean's nearly done with it, most of the blood gone as his feathers shine brightly under the unnatural brightness from his lightbulbs. His wings are puffy white, like a cotton ball, except small little specks of other colors. Castiel can see black, brown, and gray all within the strands and he feels his breath catch on his lips. Dean was right- his wings are gorgeous. Great, now he feels guilty and self-conceited.
"I'm back."
Castiel shifts his wing back as though he wasn't just staring at it, still looking down at the water as he mumbles, "I haven't left."
Dean chuckles lightly, a kind of sound someone would make when you're trying to cheer them up but it isn't entirely working, "I can see that, Cas."
Then Dean returns to washing his wings like nothing happened.
…
Castiel is laying on the floor in front of his sliding door now, Dean nearby fixing something in the kitchen that he says helps with the aches Castiel is feeling. Sometimes it feels as though someone's taking a match to the tips of his feathers while it's lit, making the man shift in discomfort that Dean said was natural. Apparently new wings are fairly sensitive and can be angered easily.
"How's the air doin' ya Cas?" Dean calls out, the sound of spoon resting in a bowl reaching Castiel's ears, "Your wings feelin' better?"
Castiel hums, "Definately."
He stretches them just like Dean had yesterday for his photoshoot. It's kind of strange to think such a thing, that yesterday Dean was the only one who had wings in this apartment. Suddenly there's a snap of a camera that causes Castiel to jump, Dean grimacing behind him.
"I wanted a few more…" he says quietly, "Ah well- we'll get em' later."
"Uhh, later? …"
Dean smiles, "Cas, your wings are amazing. I want to take some photos of them, if you don't mind."
Castiel is unsure about it until Dean mumbles softly, "It's been a long time since I've gotten to work behind a camera…"
"Fine…"
"What Cas?" Dean looks up hopefully.
"I said fine, just-" Dean snaps a quick shot for fucking giggles, "oh nevermind."
Castiel just stretches, laying horizontally on the floor and letting his wings settle above him, resting along the curvature of his back. There's a few more sounds of Castiel's camera taking pictures, some of them getting closer and closer. Eventually Castiel's stomach gets irritated with him laying down on it so Castiel flips onto his side. One of his wings is splayed out onto the floor behind him while the other comes to rest along his hip comfortably.
"Damn Cas you're a natural."
Another snap of the lens sounds out, "A natural?"
"Yeah. Maybe we can send some of your photos in with mine- who knows, maybe you can get a career in modeling."
Castiel huffs a fake laugh, "Yeah, like they'd want me on their covers."
Dean seems to furrow his brow, "What does that mean?"
"I'm saying that I'm not the modeling type, Dean. I've never been one for being the subject, more so of the artist. I don't expect you to understand…"
"Are you implying something?" Dean's tone goes a tad sour.
"No I'm not just-" Castiel just likes fucking things up for himself, "I'm just saying you wouldn't understand because it's not simple like that. I wish I could explain really how it is, but I can't. I'd rather be taking photos than being in them… It's the best way I can describe it."
Dean seems to soften a little, lowering Castiel's camera, "Oh…"
Castiel looks away to New York that's just outside, "Sorry if you thought I was implying something. I've noticed you don't like particularly being a model sometimes…"
"No one does." Dean suddenly sits down behind Castiel, laying a hand on one of his wings and straightening out the feathers- something that Castiel forgot to do an hour ago and finds great comfort in, "Sometimes I wish I weren't one. I could walk down the streets and all of that without being eyed at either like candy or a joke. I put my body out there as a living mannequin practically, it's not the best life. Especially when you're practically showing everyone one of the most secretive parts of your body."
"Secretive? I knew wings were special but… I didn't ever know exactly how much…"
Dean gives a soft huff, like a beginning of a laugh that didn't quite make it, "They're a sign of trust or something more. When I first got my wings, it was my mom that cleaned them for me- it's supposed to be sort of a bonding thing between you and someone else. She showed me how to clean and take care of my wings, just like I am you. They're more than just a showpiece."
Castiel swallowed uneasily, still feeling Dean's fingers smoothing out his dried and cleaned feathers, "So this right now… it's… what, exactly?"
"I don't know." Dean says, then even quietly adds, "You tell me."
…
Castiel sees the sun beginning to dip behind or through the towering buildings, hearing Dean fix them some sandwiches since Castiel doesn't know how to exactly control his wings yet and Dean can't leave him just in case something goes wrong or- well that's what Castiel told him. At least he agreed to stay a little longer.
"Hey Cas-" Dean opens the fridge and looks around, "is this lunch pack of roast beef still good?"
"Should be." Castiel sits on the floor rather than the couch like he usually does, his wings twitching along his back.
Castiel flips through the channels on the TV while he hears Dean shift things around in the kitchen, placing a pan onto the stove and sizzling soon coming from it. Castiel pauses for a moment through his channel browsing.
"What are you fixing?"
"I'm kinda throwing this together…" Dean admits, "But I'm cooking the roast beef and toasting some bread, then when the meat's done I'm gonna put it on there with a piece of cheese."
Castiel nods, "Sounds… interesting."
"I'm hoping it tastes just as good."
There's still sounds coming from the kitchen as Castiel settles on some TV show that has to do with some tall man with sharp cheekbones and a scarf running around solving crimes with someone who reminds Castiel of the little midget person from those books he read once. Castiel just has awful memory for those things.
"Whatcha watchin'?" Dean asks.
"I dunno… Some murder type of show. I think it's pretty good though I have no idea what's going on. The acting is superb."
Dean nods, "I think I've heard of that show before, it's British so that's why they've got the accents and all of those words or phrases we don't use over here like 'flat' or 'biscuits and tea'. I dunno, I've never watched it."
"Neither have I but it proves to be interesting."
Castiel and Dean stop conversating after that because it seems as though food is ready. Dean comes in and hands a plate to Castiel, his hands taking it eagerly and eating it. It's pretty good, and Castiel smiles because whatever he had to eat from yesterday ended up in a trash can.
"Slow down or you'll choke-" Dean laughs, "I'm supposing you like it?"
Castiel nods, "It's really good, I like it."
Dean smiles just like he had at the small restaurant yesterday and Castiel has to look away. He focuses on chewing and not choking, or having his wings spasm and hit something like they did earlier- which Dean laughed at him for. Dean seems to hold that smile on his face for a bit before taking the plates back to the kitchen and placing them in the sink.
"You're wings bothering you?"
Castiel looks behind him, "They're a little sore…"
"Well-" Dean flops on the couch, "I'm going to stay here tonight just in case. Sometimes your wings can do stuff that you don't know about yet, and if I'm predicting this right you should start producing oil for em' soon."
"Oil?"
Dean nods, "Yeah, it's to keep them clean and it helps protect them n' stuff. You won't know what to do and it's an interesting to say at the very least. You should try sleeping now, you need as much as you can get."
Castiel nods and pads off to the bedroom, feeling a little awkward to the sort of swinging sensation behind him from his wings. He settles on his mattress with on his side, wings sprawled out till he's comfortable underneath the downy feathers and comforter.
It's funny to think that Castiel did this yesterday with no wings on his back or a Dean Winchester on his couch- but hey, life likes throwing curve balls at you sometimes when you're up to bat. The photographer sighs in content, hearing Dean shuffle around in his apartment a little as his eyes drift close.
…
Click.
Castiel blinks his eyes open, Dean standing nearby with the camera with that damn smile Castiel loves on his face playing on his lips, "Mornin' Cas."
"Hello Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel grumbles, finding himself on his stomach, so he leans up on an elbow.
"I'm still taking my own pictures Cas. I came in here to wake you up for breakfast and I saw you and just had to take a shot."
Castiel grimaces as Dean walks away- warn a guy first, at least. Or give him some time to not look like he just got reincarnated from the dead.
"There's some eggs and bacon on the counter. I went to the store and got some stuff."
Castiel grabs the plate, seeing that Dean's got some orange juice set on the coffee table for him and he smiles, "Thanks Dean, but you didn't have to do this."
Dean makes a noise while he rolls his eyes playfully, "Don't mention it Cas- it's fine. Now hurry up, I wanna see how I did on my eggs."
Castiel shoots up an eyebrow as he sits next to Dean, more so on the edge of the couch because of his wings as he digs into the plate. Dean watches like a kid awaiting their parent's approval, eyes not leaving Castiel as the first forkful of eggs makes its way into Castiel's mouth.
"They're good Dean- no need to worry."
Dean relaxes and smiles, "It's not that I did, I just wanted to be sure."
Castiel soon finishes his plate and then stands, "What are we supposed to do today?"
"Good question Cas," Dean stands up too, except he's going to the bathroom, "I thought you'd might ask that."
Castiel tilts a brow as he pads into the kitchen, setting his dishes in the sink, turning to find Dean standing there with a special brush and something that looks like spray-in conditioner.
"W-What's that?"
"It's a feather brush and a wing spray. It's specially formulated for sensitive or new wings- it's to help keep them clean until most of your natural oil kicks in or something. The brush just helps clean them and stuff better. Wanna try it? It's the same stuff I use."
Castiel can't help but feel like this is what a mother does to her daughter whenever she's old enough to try the same things, but sighs and shakes his head in moderate defeat, "Sure. My wings itch anyways."
They sit in front of the sliding door again, the clouds slightly parted today with a little light shining through. It feels good to Castiel, his wings naturally outstretching and flaring out. Dean awkwardly clears his throat, making the extra appendages quickly pull back to Castiel's sides in an instant.
"Seems like we have to teach you what wing movement means…" Dean says quietly, Castiel unsure as of why.
"Is it like a bodily language?"
Dean nods, sitting in front of him this time instead of behind like he usually does, which Castiel finds a little endearing as he begins to brush flecks of dust and dirt out of Castiel's wings. The photographer nearly purrs.
"You should let your wings out Dean," Castiel stretches the one wing Dean doesn't have in his hands out to absorb the limited sunlight, "it feels really good today."
Dean nods, setting the brush down and sliding his shirt off- Castiel weary of where his eyes are- and exposes his own wings. They're about the same size as Castiel's, and the only differences that Castiel can really see is a minor bone structure difference and contrasting colors. Dean smiles warmly again, Castiel's heart fluttering in his chest as he forces his wings to remain still.
"Do you want to clean mine? It's an easy way to learn."
Castiel nearly breathes wrong, how he doesn't know but he nearly does it nonetheless, "Oh- sure."
Dean outstretches his wing forward, the feathers spreading and inviting Castiel to touch them. Castiel slowly raises a hand forward, bringing it to the feathers to find that they are extremely soft. Never before in his life had he ever thought he'd get to feel a wing- whether it be his own or Dean Winchester's, it didn't matter. Especially it being one that belonged to a man who can just snap and Castiel would be in a trance. Castiel is nervous as he begins to pick out things that he can, seeing no twitches in them or expression of discomfort on Dean's face.
"D-Does this feel right?" Castiel asks softly, refusing to meet Dean's eyes, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No, you're not. You're doing pretty good for a first timer."
Dean smirks and Castiel blushes, he's sure that it's noticeable but there's nothing he can do really other than sit there like an awkward duck. He settles on focusing on cleaning Dean's feathers instead of his embarrassment, fingers working through the layers as carefully as possible as Dean shares the favor.
"You said your mom used to do this for you?"
Dean nods, "Yeah- but not for long really. We had a house fire and well… she didn't make it."
Castiel feels like a dick, "I'm sorry… I- I shouldn't have said anything…"
"No, it's alright, you didn't know. It was years ago anyway, I've gotten time to get used to the fact. Still hurts, I just know in which ways it does."
"So…" Castiel pauses, "You aren't mad at me for being an idiot?"
Dean chuckles at that, smiling softly while he sifts through the feathers- Castiel's feathers, "No, and you're not an idiot."
Castiel guesses there's some things he and Dean will never agree on.
…
Castiel sits down on the sofa again, shifting uneasily on the cushions as Dean gets some of his things together.
"Thank you Dean."
Dean smirks, "You're welcome, and I'm not leaving just yet. I'm just getting a few more things and then I'm coming back."
"Oh." Castiel mumbles, "See you in a bit then."
The door to the apartment shuts and Castiel pouts on the floor. He shifts a little, his wings shifting. Castiel thinks for a moment, then goes over to his camera in sudden interest. His fingers linger on the black plastic, picking it up with hesitation as Castiel bites his lip in uncertainty. He flips on his camera, starting the memory card from his shoot with Dean yesterday.
There's photos of Dean with his wings spread and the snow drifting in the background- and then there's a sudden shift in the pictures. It goes from Dean directly to Castiel, no transition or anything. Castiel stares at the photos of himself, the first one being of him laying in front of that sliding door. It seems so weird because the damn thing actually looks good.
He sifts through the rest of the photos of himself, smiling as he realizes that Dean isn't half bad at taking pictures instead of being in them. Then there's some Castiel didn't know that Dean took. There's one of him sleeping, one of him laying belly down on the couch, and another with him sitting with a cup of hot tea on the floor. Castiel remembers that at that time Dean had been in the kitchen fixing something else for Castiel, and he bites his lip at the sweet of warmth in his chest and- what.
Castiel feels something slide down his skin, like a single drop of water. He twists himself to see his wing, seeing some type of liquid shining and wetting his feathers. Castiel swallows, bringing a hesitant hand to his wing and hissing at how sensitive it is.
"W-Wha..."
Castiel braces himself this time, letting his fingers actually linger on his wings for more than a split second- Castiel doesn't realize he's moaning till it leaves it throat dryly.
Castiel immediately pulls his hand away in fear. Dean never mentioned anything about something like this happening. It makes Castiel a little scared not knowing that his wings could turn him on like a light switch.
He should have a bit till Dean gets back...
Castiel knows that Dean took the key, so he deadbolts and uses the chain- just so he knows that he can open the door when he's ready to. Castiel goes to his room, shutting that door too and locking it as an extra precaution. He slides over onto the floor, not wanting to get whatever oil this is on his sheets or that there's evidence of what he's doing when Dean comes back. It'll just be easier to deny if there's no puddles on his bed.
Castiel pulls a wing forward, biting his lip and running his hand against his sensitive feathers again. Castiel trembles, his skin making his wings feel like their on fire and it's just perfect.
Castiel moans out, neck arching back as the pleasure rolls through him. He feels sort if like a teenager, like even the slightest breeze would make him as horny as he could possibly be- but this... This surpasses that. Castiel finds himself reaching his peak faster than he did when he was thirteen, his bottom lip catching on a breathy word that sounds a whole lot like Dean. He thinks that it's Dean's fingers in his wings and not his own- that Dean is on top of him placing sloppy and heated kisses along his neck. Castiel can't help it, he keeps stroking his wings and pulling as many orgasms with his fantasy as he can manage until it gets to be too much. Castiel lays on the floor, wings twitching and mouth agape from a bliss that makes him feel like he's sky high. He smiles smugly, going to his bathroom to get patertowels.
He thought he told himself not to make any evidence or puddles.
...
Dean comes back- Castiel's newfound hobby only having last literally ten minutes- with a duffel and a new set of clothes on. Dean seems to eye Castiel weirdly as he enters, more than likely because Castiel is lying pliantly on his couch with a grin as wide as his wingspan.
"You seem like you're in a good mood." Dean comments after setting his things down near the door, "Anything big happen while I was gone?"
Oh yes, "Nah- nothing too bad."
Nope. Not bad at all.
"Alright... I was worried I was pushing it by taking a shower at my place, it's just I needed to wash my wings and I already had my soap there."
"No, it's fine."
Castiel watches as Dean nods, sitting down on the floor and holding out his hand.
"Wing. Now."
Castiel tilts his head, "Something wrong with them?"
Dean gives him a look that says 'we both know what I mean'. Castiel sighs in defeat, bending his wing outwards to Dean and looks away in embarrassment. Dean gives a grunt in annoyance.
"You started making oil."
"I-Is that a bad thing? ..." Castiel hopes his earlier activites weren't written on his face or feathers somehow for Dean to read.
Dean shakes his head, "No, just means you're going faster than I originally thought."
Oh thank Jesus.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
Dean seems a little off, "Dean, are you alright?"
Dean looks way from Castiel and towards the floor and his legs, "I'm fine, Cas. Don't worry."
So Castiel doesn't- or at least tries to.
