Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. If I had, I would keep them for myself.

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CHAPTER 2

There was no way he could have predicted something like that. Feathers was one thing but walking around dressed like a giant turkey was definitely not on Sam's agenda. Of course, Dean thought it was funny. Kids gathering all around him, making happy noises every time he moved his wings. Seriuosly, what was wrong with everyone?

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What is wrong with him? Dean thought. Sam was gloomy for the whole day, often sulking in some shadowed corner. Maybe these mood swings are what Cass was talking about?

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If only Dean knew how much wine Castiel can drink he wouldn't have invited him in. The point is, Dean never knew of the angel's capabilities and definitely not about his reaction to alcohol. Everything would be perfectly fine, if his angelic friend had not decided to hit on his brother.

"But Dean," he tried to make up an excuse. "He has feathers. It's obvious that he turns me on."

"Obvious? I'll tell you what is obvious! The fact that you're not going to put a foot in this house until it's all over!"

"It's never gonna be over," Castiel staggered a bit. "Not for you. Not for him. And it's not a house. It's a motel."

"You presumptuous bugger. Out, now!" The angel didn't even spare him a glance as he backed out of the room.

"What was it about?" Sam was standing in the doorway, hands crossed on his chest, waiting for an explanation.

Crap, what am I supposed to tell him? Dean had no idea.

"Oh, don't give me that crap," Dean was furious by now. "You never saw how he looked at you."

"How? Like at someone worth looking on?" Like you never look at me?

Ups. Now he's upset. Way to go, Dean.

"You know that's not what I meant! You can have anyone you want! Why that fluffy little angel?"

"Have you thought for a second that maybe it's because I'm an angel too?" Sam was whining. "I just want to get laid." He sighed.

"We can't always get what we want, Sammy." Dean thought aloud. If we could... no, don't go there, Dean.

"So you can go to the bar, pick up a girl and I can't?" Sam was seething with anger. "Fuck off, Dean." And with that he stormed out of the room.

"Wait!" Dean shouted after him. "How are you going to explain your wings to all these people out there? Huh?"

Sam paled. "I haven't thought about it. But I'm sure I can think of something." He made another step.

"I'm sure, my ass. Your wings respond to your unconscious thoughts, they have the temperature of your body, and, above all, the feathers flutter when you're thinking. And I know you, Sammy. You're constantly thinking."

"Shit." Sam sulkily made his way back to the room.

"My point exactly."

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"So what am I supposed to do? I'm bored." Sam was sprawled on the couch, his legs resting comfortably on the table, wings wrapped tightly around him. Dean thought he looked absolutely adorable.

"Whatever you want. Sing, dance, jerk off." Dean offered him a cheeky smile, although inside he really liked the last idea.

"But Dean, that's what you do when you're bored. I want to play."

Dean shivered at the mere thought. The last time he played with Sam he ended up half naked and a couple miles from town. In the middle of winter.

"All right, let's play." It was gonna be a very long day.