As always kudos to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing!

Here's some gratuitous fluff for you guys, hope you enjoy!

...

Dean woke to something soft tickling his face. He scrunched up his nose, trying to rid himself of the irritant, but it persisted, so he cracked open an eye to find out what it was.

As his opened eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, the first thing he noticed was that he was well rested, the second was that there was a warm body pressed up against his back, arms wrapped securely around him, and the third was that the thing that was tickling his face was a feather.

He stared at it, trying to wrap his still partially asleep mind around the sight. He raised his head, following the line of sight from the plume down to the wing that was draped over him and splayed out across the bed, a comforting weight that made him feel inexplicably peaceful and safe; the way he had as a child when his mom would tuck him in, laying a soft kiss on his forehead and smiling down at him, calm and serene. He had never felt like that after she died, although he had done everything in his power to try to give Sam the same experience. Lord knows how well he'd succeeded, but he'd given it his best shot.

He looked back down at the wing.

The feather that had woken him was one of only a few still clinging to the skeletal frame of the wing. From what little he could remember of glimpsing the shadowed impression of Cas' wings that first night in the barn, they had been huge and impressive and dense. Now they were ragged, feathers tattered, soft black down barely covering the white bone that shone through.

Dean thought back to the sight of thousands of angels falling from the sky like the meteors they had been explained as, burning as they plummeted towards the ground, cast out of their home, injured and weak and alone.

He thought of Cas, newly human, experiencing pain and thirst and hunger for the first time. And Dean hadn't been there to help him. What if Cas hadn't reached them? What if Bartholomew had got his hands on him when he'd been pursuing him? What if he had gotten to Cas in the last few months when he'd been out on his own as Malachi had Muriel? Alone once again because of Dean's stupid mouth?

He shivered and the arms that held him tightened. He smiled. Even in sleep Cas was always mindful of Dean and what Dean needed from him. He owed Cas so much; his life, his happiness, his love. And he was determined to give the angel the same. He had damn well earned it.

He reached a curious hand out and ran a finger along the feather, feeling its otherworldly softness. The limb twitched and a soft grunt sounded from behind Dean. He turned to see Cas grimace in his sleep, his face scrunching up in a manner that was decidedly cute at Dean's touch. His heart swelled at the sight of the sleeping angel lying once again beside him. It was so right that, for a moment, it felt as though he had woken from a nightmare, as though the last few months had been nothing but a bad dream. All was right with the world.

Dean frowned.

Sleeping.

He glanced at the wing that rested across his body.

If Cas was an angel again – as the foreign limb most definitely suggested – then why was he sleeping?

A cold shock of fear coursed through him. Was he sick? Was he injured? Possibilities surged through his mind, each one more irrational and improbable than the last but it didn't stop Dean from worrying. He'd just gotten his angel back and he was damned if he was going to lose him again.

He shook Cas' shoulder gently.

"Cas." he whispered softly.

The angel moaned and shifted on the bed but didn't wake.

"Cas."

Blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes blinked open. Focusing in the dim light of the room, they settled on Dean's face and Cas' mouth relaxed into a content smile.

"Dean." he breathed, the same relief that the hunter had felt upon waking in the angel's arms evident in his sleep-roughened voice.

"Hey." Dean smiled back, before he remembered why he had been trying to wake him up in the first place. "Why were you asleep?" he asked, concern growing in his tones, "Are you all right?"

Guilt gnawed at him, the image of a sick and injured Cas alone, thinking Dean hated him, blooming in his mind's eye.

Cas smiled, the worry lines that had appeared on his forehead at Dean's distress smoothing out.

"I am fine, Dean." he assured the hunter.

"But you're an angel again. You don't need to sleep, so why—"

"Dean."

Castiel's firm, serious voice cut off Dean's frantic ramble. He smiled and cupped his cheeks.

"I expended a great deal of my grace yesterday and the warding here is keeping me from re-charging as quickly as I would like. Besides," he added, moving in closer to Dean's embrace, "I missed sleeping with you in my arms." He pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips.

"What did you do yesterday that used up that much grace?" Dean asked once Cas had pulled away.

"My car stopped a few miles from here, inexplicably. I ran the rest of the way here."

Dean frowned.

"You ran? Why?"

Cas' smile was sad as he stroked through Dean's hair.

"Because I wanted to be here with you. If I could have flown I would have, but…"

He trailed off and glanced down at the skeletal wing that lay across the covers.

"Shit, Cas." Dean said. "Yeah, I mean, I only saw them as shadows before but now…"

He looked down at the broken appendage as well, unsure of what to say. Cas looked up at him.

"Dean." he said and Dean glanced up to see a confused expression on Cas' face. "What are you talking about?"

"Your wings." Dean explained, gesturing to the limb that was splayed out across the two of them.

Cas sat up and Dean shivered from the sudden lack of warmth.

"You–you can see them?" Castiel's normally powerful voice held something that Dean had never heard before in his gruff, certain tones. Something akin to self-consciousness.

"Yeah."

Cas blinked at him.

"How?"

Dean rose to match Cas' seated position, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he did.

"Last night when we were…you know." He gestured vaguely, the innuendo obvious. "You started…glowing."

Cas' eyebrows rose.

"You could see my halo?"

Dean frowned thoughtfully.

"Is that what that was? Anyway, then suddenly I could see your wings."

Dean stared at them now. They were passive, lying limp across the bed. Cas glanced down at them as well.

"They–they aren't very…they used to be much more impressive." His voice came out soft, hesitant.

Dean reached a hand out and nudged Cas' chin up until they were eye to eye.

"I think they're awesome." he said, and it was the truth. Despite their rather haggard look, the wings were still massive and cool. He couldn't help reaching a hand out and stroking over them. Cas closed his eyes and shuddered as Dean's fingers brushed across the down that was just as soft as it looked. The wing twitched and moved quickly out of the range of Dean's hand.

"Oh shit. Sorry, Cas, did I hurt you?"

Cas opened his eyes and shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"No." he said softly. "It's just…no one's ever touched them before."

Dean blinked.

"Never? Aren't you like thousands of years old?"

"Yes."

"And in all that time, not one person has ever touched your wings?"

Cas shook his head.

"They do not exist on a plane that most humans can perceive and interact with, and angels do not engage in physical contact unless in battle or for more carnal purposes."

Dean was left reeling at Castiel's frank description of angel life.

"Shit, Cas." was all he could come up with.

Cas frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Just…going that long without any kind of physical contact…" Dean trailed off. On the whole he wouldn't consider himself a touchy feely kind of guy. Sure he liked the odd hug from Sam, and he had fond memories of being held by his mother, and Cas well…Cas was a whole other matter. But to live an entire existence devoid of any kind of touch?

Cas seemed to consider Dean's words.

"At the time I never questioned it. It was just how things were. But then I fought through hell and found you and you wouldn't come. So I grabbed you. And it felt…different."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Different? Wow, you certainly know what to say to a guy."

Cas to his credit looked mildly abashed.

"I didn't mean in a bad way. I just meant that I had no basis of comparison. I had no idea what the sensation meant only that I wanted to feel it again and again. So I asked that I be the one to approach you. And every time an opportunity came up to meet with you, I took it. I convinced my superiors that I was the best choice because you were distrustful of angels and I was familiar to you – and that was true – but mostly I just wanted to be near you. So I could continue to experience that sensation I felt whenever I was around you."

"What was the sensation?" Dean asked softly, at once both afraid and excited to hear the answer.

"I have thought about it at great length." Cas explained. "Trying to determine what the feelings meant; what my vessel and being were trying to tell me. I now believe the feeling to be love."

Dean stared into Cas' eyes, eyes that seemed to make up for his general lack of expression by being overly expressive themselves. If anyone else had delivered that line it would have been corny as hell, straight out of the worst examples of cheesy romance novels. But from Cas it was nothing but the truth. Cas who hadn't experienced touch until he'd had to drag Dean kicking and screaming out of hell. Cas who now clung to Dean even in sleep.

Dean cleared his throat, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable under the angel's penetrating gaze.

"So, how…why can I see them now?"

Cas frowned in thought.

"I wonder." he murmured before reaching a hand out and grasping Dean's bare shoulder.

Dean was immediately inundated with an overwhelming torrent of emotions and sensations and, most of all, power. Cas pulled his hand away and Dean was left gasping in the aftermath, glancing down to where Cas' hand had been to see a fading remnant of his handprint. The same that had been there when he'd first climbed out of hell. He looked up to see Cas staring down at his hand thoughtfully.

"What the hell, Cas?"

Cas looked up.

"I believe our graces connected last night, Dean."

Dean's forehead creased in a frown.

"What? What grace? I don't have any grace."

"Yes you do, Dean."

Dean's frown deepened.

"No." he said, as though addressing a small child or Sam. "Grace is an angel thing. You have grace. I do not."

"But you do." Cas countered, "A miniscule amount, I'll grant you, but it is there. And last night it activated."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Activated? Really? What am I, a nuclear bomb?"

"You aren't going to explode, Dean." Cas assured.

"So…how the hell do I have grace?"

Cas took in a deep breath.

"In hell, after I pulled you out, you required…a great deal of healing; physically and spiritually. There was only one way. You struggled at first, but eventually you conceded. I suspect you were just in too much pain."

Dean stared at Cas who was looking down, studying the duvet as he spoke.

"What the hell are you talking about? Concede to what?"

Cas looked up, locking gazes with Dean, his eyes sad.

"We merged. Became one. My grace and your soul. It was the only way to reverse the damage."

Dean blinked.

"Merged? What does that mean?"

"It means you needed my help so I did what was necessary. I healed you. And in the process, I left some of my grace behind."

"In me?"

Cas nodded.

"And last night. When we…"

"The remnant of my grace in you felt the grace in me and…"

"Activated?" Dean supplied.

Cas shrugged. "It seems the most apt term for what occurred."

"And now I can see your wings and…halo?"

"So it would seem."

Dean leaned back and stared at the faint glow that still radiated from the angel and the limbs that protruded from his back.

"Huh." he vocalized. "Can I…can I touch them?"

Cas hesitated, but nodded.

Dean reached out and gently brushed over one of the few feathers still clinging to the wing. It was softer than Dean thought possible, and Cas shivered as his fingers trailed down them. He paused.

"Are you all right?"

Cas took a steadying breath.

"Yes, it's just…intense."

"If you want me to stop I'll—"

"No. It feels good."

Dean continued stroking gently and Cas leaned his head forwards to rest on Dean's shoulder, crowding in. Dean moved up the limb, petting his fingers over the soft down that covered the join where the limb met Cas' shoulder blade. As his fingers buried into the feathers, Cas let out a sound that was part moan and part purr, and nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean neck.

Dean chuckled.

"Like that, do you?" He smiled and Cas nodded, his face still pressed to Dean's shoulder.

Dean let out another chuckle and continued to pet the wing joint, each stroke eliciting another string of pleased noises from the angel.

He felt something then, in the back of his mind. A sensation, a feeling of warmth and comfort and love that did not belong to him. He petted at Cas' wing and the angel let out another pleased moan. The feeling swelled, pulsing in time with Dean's strokes and the sounds Cas was making.

"Cas." Dean asked.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas answered with his head still buried in Dean's neck.

"Are there any other possible effects from this…grace thing?"

Cas sat up and back, frowning.

"Like what?"

Curiosity flowed through whatever the hell it was and Dean was getting surer and surer by the minute that it was Cas.

"I dunno, like…weird, psychic angel stuff?"

Castiel's frown deepened and his head tilted in that particular way it tended to when he was trying to figure something out. Then his eyes went wide and locked onto Dean's.

Dean, can you hear me?

Dean sat back suddenly.

"Whoa! What the hell was that?"

Cas' face was impassive as always but his eyes were wide with interest.

"I would appear we are indeed linked in some mild psychic manner."

"And in English that would mean…?"

"We can hear and feel each other's thoughts and emotions."

Dean was silent for a beat as he tried to process the information.

"Woah." was all he could think to say. A ripple of amusement flowed in through the connection and Cas smirked.

"Is that really all you have to say?"

Dean shrugged.

"I don't know what to say. What do you say to something like that?"

Cas smiled.

"The beauty of it is that you don't have to say anything."

He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Dean's lips while simultaneously pouring all the love he could muster for the man and forcing it through the link to Dean's mind.

If the other feelings had been ripples, this was a tidal wave. It rode in and washed over Dean and it felt as though he was sinking under the strength of the emotion. It was love, pure and simple and he was drowning in it.

Dean gasped and broke away, breathing heavily.

"What is that?" he asked breathlessly.

Cas caressed his cheek.

"That is what I feel for you, Dean Winchester."

His first instinct was to fight it. It felt wrong, somehow, to accept it and let it in. It was so pure and good and right, and he was so…sullied. But no matter how hard he tried to rail against it, it kept coming; a steady stream of unyielding adoration that was slowly filling him to the brim. He could hear his father yelling at him as he swung his fists drunkenly, uncaring about how much force he was putting into the blows. He saw Alistair's face, smiling smugly as Dean cut into his first victim, revelling silently in his small but vital victory.

And still the love kept coming.

Dean looked up with tears welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth a few times but shut it again, his brow furrowing and his breathing still heavy.

"Shhh." Cas murmured, stroking a hand through Dean's dark blonde hair. "It's okay. It's okay."

He shook his head and tried to pull further away but Cas had him in a gentle but firm grip that would not allow him to go any further.

He locked eyes with Cas, staring into the angel's depthless gaze and stopped struggling, allowing the feelings to wash over him.

He bowed his head, laying it down to rest against Cas' chest as Cas leaned back against the pillows, wrapping his arms and wings around Dean as he shrunk into a foetal position, crowding in close, as though, if he made himself small enough, he could crawl inside Cas. Cas held onto him tight.

He was basking now, no longer sinking but floating on the tide of the love that Cas continued to pour through the connection in his mind. He felt himself relaxing into the angel's embrace and he closed his eyes, shutting out everything except the feelings flooding in from Cas.

The voices were getting dimmer, silenced by the rush of emotion and he opened himself up to it. Tears were spilling from his eyes but he didn't care.

I love you, Dean Winchester.

The words echoed in his mind, drowning out the last of the visions of hell and his father. He couldn't even remember who he was really. Only that he was Dean Winchester and he was loved.

...

What did you think? Did you like? Reviews are always welcome!

Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my other Destiel fic Let Me See You Smile!