A/N: Wow, that was fun to write. I totally raced through it (I didn't even edit or anything, sorry if there are typos, guys), but I'm actually pretty proud of how that turned out.

And I got to weave in a lot of Castiel's lines from the show, so that's always totally awesome.

Okay. Yeah...I'll just. Yeah. Enjoy.

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"Dean," Cas jumped up, tucking his wings away and attempting an innocent smile. Dean didn't smile back, standing at the other end of the rock with his arms crossed and a dark scowl on his face.

"Save it, Cas," Dean growled, stalking toward Castiel like an avalanche tumbling down a mountain, "I saw them. And earlier, after the battle, you said you told me Lucifer had spies, but it wasn't you. And Ash and Victor both seem to know you, and the way you fought today…dammit, I'm not an idiot, Cas," Dean snapped.

Castiel sighed and looked away, out over the water. "I never said you were, Dean."

"Let me see them."

Cas turned back toward Dean, tilting his head curiously at the command. "Your wings. I want to see them. Now."

Castiel lifted his chin, setting his jaw defiantly, but made his wings visible. The air around them sizzled with energy as he extended them to their full size.

Dean fought to maintain an angry expression, but his eyes widened and his lips parted at the beautiful fixtures. He looked first at the black wing, green eyes wide, and then over at the still-painted wing. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he narrowed his eyes at Cas.

"I apologize for keeping it from you."

"Then why did you?" Dean asked desperately, stepping closer so they were only inches apart, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because I was angry with you, Dean! And not without justification. And then there was never a good opportunity—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Cas. You had plenty of chances to tell me. So give me the real reason."

"Fine," Cas said, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I was afraid, Dean. I lived fifteen years with no one knowing my secret. Not a soul. And from out of nowhere, you waltz in, and everything started falling apart—"

"No one knows? Really? You're telling me Victor and Ash don't know? Meg doesn't know? Chuck doesn't know? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like I'm the only one who didn't know!" Dean exploded. "And I used to be the one you told everything to!"

Castiel's lips parted in surprise. That was why Dean was upset. Castiel tilted his head slightly, looking up at Dean, "You don't think you deserve to be forgiven," Castiel ducked his head, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's. "You're not upset with me; you're upset with yourself because you think you deserve this. You think I didn't tell you because I no longer care for you or trust you."

Dean cringed, looking for a moment like he'd been struck, but quickly regained his composure. "You know what? Fuck you, Cas. And fuck your goddamn secret." Dean turned to leave, but Castiel grabbed him by the arm, taking a step closer to the human.

"The vigilante is not invulnerable. When my secret is threatened, so are the people close to me. You think I can afford to be Castiel? There's a bigger picture here."

He leaned in closer, making Dean look uncomfortable.

"You should show me some respect."

He let go of Dean's arm, but the human didn't back away. He just stood, close enough so that Castiel could feel his warmth, glaring down at Castiel. They both refused to look away first, and refused to back down until the other made a move.

Until Dean's eyes dropped to Castiel's lips.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean growled, frustrated green eyes taking in the angel's confused scowl. Before Cas had a chance to wonder what that look meant, Dean had a hand on Castiel's face and another twisting into his hair. Dean felt himself moving forward even as he aggressively pulled the angel to him into a fierce kiss that almost bordered on violent.

Castiel froze, a hand automatically reaching up to touch the calloused hand on his face. Of all the reactions Dean could have had to discovering his secret, this was the one he'd least expected.

The angel melted into the kiss, pressing his body flush against the firm line of muscle that was Dean. Dean made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl and nipped at Cas' bottom lip, making Cas gasp and give Dean access to Castiel's mouth. Cas carded his fingers through Dean's hair, tugging at it in response.

One of Dean's hands dropped to the space just above Castiel's ass, trying to force him closer despite them already being pressed together from their heads to their toes. Cas moaned into the human's perfect mouth when Dean ground his hips against Castiel's groin once in a slow, dizzying motion. Dean repeated the motion, wringing another sound from Cas.

Cas pulled back just enough to breathe, opening his eyes to look at Dean. The hunter had his eyes screwed shut and he leaned back in, pressing his forehead against Cas'.

They just breathed each other in for several minutes, neither of them saying anything, letting their hands roam lazily across the other's body.

Dean was even more beautiful this close. Cas took all of it in: the feather-light sweep of thick brown lashes as their tips fluttered lightly against his cheekbones, the freckles, barely visible against the tan of Dean's skin under the warm sunlight, and how they were concentrated at select points—his cheekbones, the sides of his nose, around his eyes, Dean's nose—beautifully flawed, left crooked after one too many fights, and of course, the lips. Dean's kiss-swollen, beautifully shaped lips.

Cas brought a hand up to cup Dean's jaw, holding the hunter still. He leaned up, first pressing a kiss to Dean's lips. He moved to Dean's nose, pressing a light, open-mouthed kiss to a cluster of freckles, then moved to Dean's cheek. Next, he kissed Dean's eyelid, then the tip of his eyebrow.

He repeated the process down the other side of Dean's face, ending with the hunter's lips once more.

"Dean Winchester." Castiel's voice—though no more than a low whisper—was a command. "Listen to me. You're wrong."

Dean's impossibly green eyes fluttered open, catching Cas staring at him. "About what?"

"If you think I don't care."

Dean shook his head. "Don't, Cas. I don't deserve—"

"Dean," Cas continued, ignoring the human, "I care about you now as much as I did when we were children—more, even, now that I see what a good, righteous man you have become."

"You can't possibly—"

"Good things do happen, Dean," Cas said.

Dean's eyes dropped to Castiel's neck, and he traced his fingers across the pendant Cas always wore. "You kept it," he breathed.

"Of course."

But then Dean was pushing away, gently.

Cas frowned, worried he'd said something wrong, but was relieved to see a smile playing at the corner of the hunter's lips. "I'm still pissed," Dean said, gently shoving Cas' shoulder.

He was more forceful than he'd intended, though, and Castiel wasn't expecting the attack. The angel, perched at the very edge of the rock, lost his balance and grabbed the closest thing to him—Dean's shirt—which sent them both plummeting into the freezing cold water.

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Dean emerged from the water first, laughing.

Cas came up a minute later, looking completely ridiculous. He was coughing and gasping, his dark hair—free of the gel that had been holding it back—plastered to his forehead, eye liner already starting to run, wings flailing behind him as they tried to figure out what had just happened—all while he was trying to glare at the laughing hunter.

"Dude, how the hell are you the same guy that can terrorize an entire city? You're way too freaking adorable."

Cas snorted. Pushing his hair back from his face and rubbing at his eyes, he smiled. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Dean, but I detect a note of forgiveness."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, splashing Cas, "Can I level with you, man?"

"Of course."

"I'm freaking relieved. On the one hand, there's you, you know, all cute and innocent and the guy I've been in love with for like, forever, and on the other hand there's the other you, sweeping in with the gorgeous wings and freaking awesome kissing skills, and I thought I was being a jerk by—"

"Been in love with?" Cas interrupted, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Huh?"

"You said you're in love with me."

"No I—shit. Um, I mean—"

"Dean," Cas smiled fondly, splashing back at Dean, "I've loved you since I was six."

"Really? Me too. I mean, with you, obviously, not myself—yeah. Um. Yeah." Dean made a face.

Cas laughed and stood, the sand shifting beneath his bare feet. The water ended around his chest, and he frowned pathetically down at his soaked clothes.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Yes, Dean?"

"I think you lost one of your, uh, contacts."

Cas squinted at Dean, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Shit. Which eye?"

"Left. Dude, that's seriously creepy looking, actually—you've got the one bright blue eye and the other's still brown," Dean laughed, sinking deeper into the water, content with their current situation. The water was actually pleasant, once you'd adjusted. He snickered. "Also, your makeup's running."

The angel scowled at him, taking out the remaining contact and scrubbing his face clean.

"Say, Cas," Dean grabbed Castiel's arm to pull him closer. "So the wings. Are they painted?"

"Yes," Castiel breathed, irritation forgotten in light of Dean's closeness, "the black is rather conspicuous."

"No shit," Dean laughed, reaching up to touch the black wing. He hesitated just before touching it, "Can I?"

Cas nodded, his expression warning Dean to be gentle.

Dean started at the top of the wing along the bone, just brushing his fingers along the smaller covert feathers. At the first touch, Castiel's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft sigh. "They're like, waterproof," Dean marveled.

"It's, um," Castiel began, trying to focus on what he was saying, but it was difficult with Dean's light touch on his wing. "oil. Oil glands," he finally managed.

"Oh." Dean turned to look at the other wing, which was still mostly white. "How do you get that off?"

"Grooming. It comes out pretty easily once it's wet—I just brush my fingers through it."

"Cool. Can I do it?"

Castiel's eyes widened and he tried not to gape. "You're…you're offering to groom my wings?"

Dean shrugged, an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. "If you want…I mean, is that like, taboo or something?"

"No," Cas said a little too quickly, "You can, it's just usually saved for—" Castiel broke off under Dean's hopeful look. "Just be gentle. You know how sensitive they can be."

"Sure," Dean grinned, looking up at the wings excitedly. "Where do I start? I just comb my fingers through them?"

Cas nodded. "It might be easier out of the water, though."

Dean followed Cas back to the rock, hauling himself up after Castiel. Cas sat cross legged on the warm, flat surface, spreading his wings out behind him. "Start with the back."

Dean kneeled behind Cas, gingerly reaching out to run his hands through the black wing. "There's still paint in this one," he said, pulling a clump of white out of the softer feathers near Cas' shoulder blades.

Cas jumped, his back arching at the touch. "There are some spots I can't reach myself."

Dean nodded, realizing Cas couldn't see the gesture. All around the base of the wings—where wing met shoulder—was matted and clumpy. They were wet, too, slick with—Dean rubbed his fingers together thoughtfully—some sort of oil.

Dean reached over to get some water on his hands and got to work on the white wing, deciding to start from the tip and work his way inward.

A minute later, he whistled. "Isn't this a lot of work to do every day? Your wings are massive, Cas. Definitely the biggest I've ever seen."

Castiel's wings flared out under Dean's fingers, the feathers puffing themselves out.

Dean smiled, regarding the wings with what was probably a look of pure wonder. "You did that the other day with Michael and Chuck too. What is that?" He asked, noticing when the tips of Cas' ears and the back of his neck turned several shades redder. He leaned forward, reaching around and grabbing Cas' chin and turning the angel toward him. Sure enough, Castiel was blushing, his blue eyes meeting Dean's for only a second before darting away. "What?" Dean asked with a smile.

"Wings do more than just help us fly."

Dean settled back on his haunches, getting back to the grooming. "Yeah? How so?"

"They…they're like a lion's mane or a peacock's tail—" Cas broke off with a gasp when Dean reached the matted feathers near the base of the wing.

"Meaning?"

Cas shook his head, taking several deep breaths. Raising an eyebrow, Dean temporarily moved away from the sensitive spot.

"They also...help us attract mates. Usually, the larger an angel's wings, the more attractive they're considered—so when you say my wings are large—"

"Got it," Dean laughed, "So the feather thing is some sort of angelic posturing?"

Dean could practically hear Castiel's eyes roll. "Something like that. Sometimes our wings have ways of expressing our more…primal feelings, whether we wish them to or not."

Quietly, Dean leaned forward again. He dug his fingers into the sensitive feathers and pressed the ghost of a kiss against the nape of the angel's neck. Cas shuddered, his wings fluttering spastically.

"So what does that mean, then?" Dean whispered against Castiel's neck, voice husky.

"Dean," the angel whined, tilting his head and baring his neck to Dean. "Please."

The human sat back after a few light kisses against Castiel's exposed skin, smirking. "I'm almost done with the back. Then I'll get started on the front."

"Maybe…" Cas breathed, "Maybe I should just do the undersides myself."

Dean playfully tugged at a handful of feathers in response, effectively shutting the angel up.

"Hang on, so when your wings did that thing around Michael was that you being jealous?" Dean asked with a grin.

"It was a…territorial display, yes," the angel admitted reluctantly.

"Don't objectify me," Dean chuckled, "Do you want me to do this sensitive part or no?"

Castiel's shoulders rolled and the angel took a deep breath. "You can do it," he said quietly. "Be extremely gentle, Dean, especially around the oil glands. And I apologize in advance for whatever sounds may fall from my lips."

Dean laughed nervously, palming at the ridiculously hard boner he was sporting. "Don't apologize, angel."

He looked over the rest of the wings, first, seeing if there was anything he missed. "Jesus, Cas, your wings are fucking gorgeous," he said, loving the way the feathers puffed themselves out proudly even as Castiel's cheeks reddened.

They really were. They were beautiful at night, a blackness so dark you could've believed they were just a hole in the fabric of the universe, but they were so different in the sunlight. The light danced across the feathers—not black, but a deep blue, green, purple, even red, depending how the light hit them. "Jesus," he said again, not even realizing it when his fingers slipped into the sensitive feathers they'd been hovering over.

Cas' head fell back and he made a sound—Dean didn't even know how to classify it, but it was sensual as fuck. Encouraged by the sound, Dean started brushing his fingers through the soft downy feathers, using the oil that now coated his fingers to help weed out the feathers that were loose, out of place, or tangled.

He tried to ignore Castiel's reactions beneath him, at least until he was finished and he could give them the attention they deserved, but it was impossible to block him out. The pitiful angel was trembling from head to toe—even his wings. Dean could feel them humming under his fingers. Every couple of seconds another lust-filled sound fell from the angel's perfect lips, this time a moan, the next a whimper, but usually a simple, broken "Dean."

Dean was painfully hard by this point, so he could only imagine how Cas must be feeling.

"Okay," he tried to say, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. "Okay. I'm, uh, finished. You can turn around now."

The angel was up before the words were fully out of Dean's mouth, spinning and jumping Dean with an eagerness that left the human breathless. Cas straddled his lap, shamelessly grinding up against him and plastering kisses on every inch of Dean's exposed skin he could reach.

"Keep touching, Dean," the angel begged, nipping at Dean's earlobe, "Please. Feels so good. Need you to touch me."

"God, Cas," Dean gasped, reaching up to place a hand on either side of Castiel's face. He remembered too late that his fingers were coated in the oil from Cas' wings.

Which, of course, only seemed to drive the angel crazier. Cas rubbed his head against Dean's neck like a cat, while his hands worked at tearing off the hunter's shirt. Dean helped him, eventually managing to push Castiel away long enough to get the shirt over himself.

The second it was off, Cas resumed his attack, kissing along Dean's collarbone and then down his chest, pausing to suck at one of Dean's nipples.

"Fuck," Dean growled, twisting a hand into the angel's dark hair. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pull the angel away or hold him there.

After a brief internal debate, he decided on the former, pressing a reassuring kiss to Castiel's lips when the angel whined at the loss of contact.

"Shhh, I know," he cooed, "Let me finish, Cas. Then you can do whatever you want to me, kay babe?"

Cas nodded breathlessly, trying to calm himself down. He refused to get off the hunter's lap, though.

"This part's gonna be worse," he mumbled against Dean's lips, "more sensitive."

"That's okay, Cas. I got you," Dean promised, "'S almost done already—the water earlier washed most of the paint out." He said, threading his fingers through both wings at once. The angel shuddered and buried his face in Dean's neck, panting and writhing on the hunter's lap.

"Dean. I need more. I need you."

"Fuck. You're so hot, Cas, coming all undone for me like this. My perfect, beautiful, black winged angel. I love how easy it is to make you fall apart," Dean said, hardly aware of what he was saying by this point. Castiel's hips had picked up a slow, erratic pace, despite how much the angel was obviously fighting to restrain himself.

Between that, his hands completely buried in the soft, oil-slick black wings, and the angel's lips kissing and sucking at a spot on his neck, Dean could barely even see straight anymore.

"You're mine, Cas," he found himself saying, the words pouring out of him before he could stop them, "never letting you go again, got it?"

Cas nodded. "Dean," Cas repeated in a reverent whisper between kisses, mewling in surprise when Dean tugged lightly at a handful of downy feathers near the joint.

"Done," Dean breathed, "paint's out."

"Good," Cas growled, shoving Dean down onto his back. He wrapped a hand around the back of Dean's head, cushioning it so it didn't slam against the rock. Cas followed the hunter down, rutting against him in a desperate search for friction.

"Cas," Dean breathed, letting his eyes fall shut. "Shit, that's so good."

Encouraged, Cas rubbed against Dean harder and faster, running his hands reverently up and down the human's sides. "Keep touching me, Dean."

Dean immediately did as he told, reaching up and over Cas' wings to find the oil glands again, and started massaging the area gently.

Castiel's pace stuttered and he let out a choked sob, again burying his face in Dean's neck. Dean froze. "That didn't hurt, did it?"

In reply, Cas buried his nails in Dean's sides. "Don't stop," he growled in a voice he didn't recognize as his own.

Dean whimpered and nodded, the rough of his stubble rubbing against Castiel's ear. He continued gently massaging and tugging at the feathers in turn.

Cas pulled away for a few seconds, just long enough to tug Dean's pants down to his knees. The next second he was back down, kissing Dean long and hard, with the human's hands tangled back in his wings. He reached behind his back, finding his wings dripping with oil because of the over stimulation of the gland. He coated his fingers in it and then reached between their bodies.

Deans eyes widened when Castiel wrapped a hand around his dick, pumping slowly. "Cas," Dean keened, back arching at the touch. He thrust upward in small movements, searching for friction. Castiel started pumping his hand faster, setting a steady pace while Dean stroked his wings.

By this point, there was no more kissing—just heavy breathing, soft sighs, and wanton moans coming from both of them.

The closer Dean got to the edge, the rougher his hands in Castiel's feathers got.

"Dean," Cas pled, "I'm going to—I'm almost—"

"Me too," Dean nodded, thrusting erratically into Cas' hand. "Come on, Cas, let me see you," he breathed, lifting his head to steal a quick kiss. "Let me see you when you come, baby. Come for me, Cas." The bastard actually pressed down on Casitel's oil gland.

"Dean," Cas gasped as he came. His mouth fell open, his back arched, and his wings flared out as a jolt of white-hot, deliciously burning electricity shot from them down to Castiel's groin and on to every part of his body. His eyes fluttered shut and he fell forward, pressing his forehead against Dean's and gasping as the orgasm wracked his entire body.

Dean was coming in his hand a second later.

Cas collapsed against Dean's chest, boneless, and Dean sheepishly removed his hands from the angel's wings. Instead, he stroked the angel's hair, the dark brown locks already starting to dry and stick up in whatever direction they chose. He smiled to himself.

"That was…pleasant," the angel said against his chest.

"Thank you, Mr. obvious."

Castiel stirred, lifting himself so he could look down at Dean. "Are you and I good, then?"

Dean snorted. "I'd say so."

"You know what I mean," Cas pushed, not unkindly.

"We're good," Dean smiled. Cas smiled back at him with that adorable toothy, eye-crinkling smile.

"I'm glad." Cas sat up, looking down at his chest, which was covered in Dean's quickly-drying come, and his pants, which were stained with his own. "I'd say we should be getting back, but I think perhaps we need to clean up first."

Dean nodded, sitting up and subtly shifting his position so Cas was between him and the pond. "There's a pretty quick fix for that."

Cas looked over at the crouching hunter curiously. "What might that be?"

There was a wicked glint in Dean's eyes and his lips were twisting into a smile that Castiel knew from experience meant no good, and the next second Dean was shoving him, launching him back off the rock and into the water.

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"Okay, okay," Dean laughed when Cas came up for air. "Now we're good. You gotta admit you kind of deserved that."

Cas rolled his eyes but nodded. Offering a hand up toward Dean, he asked, "help me out?"

Dean reached down to pull Cas out of the water, but as soon as Castiel had a grip on Dean's hand, he yanked hard, pulling Dean in with him.