Five senses part three : Hearing
Every day, Dean would listen for the sounds of Castiel's arrival - that distinctive heavy flap of feathered wings cutting through the air, mere seconds before the angel himself appeared, always patient, loyal, peaceful, eyes meeting and holding Dean's in an intense gaze. Dean always looked forward to these encounters with the angel, expected them, and always felt deflated on the days when Castiel did not come.
Every day, Dean would look up to the skies every time he heard wings - sometimes it was Castiel himself - at other times, it was merely a bird. He'd known it was a bird of course - the wing beats were too quick, too light to belong to Castiel, but still he looked anyway, heart soaring in expectation, hopes dashed when it wasn't the angel come for him.
And on the occasions when the sounds did bring Castiel to him on wings of shadow, Dean would always come forward to meet the angel, to press lips to soft responsive lips, to wrap arms around a willing body, to lace fingers through feathers and bone of Castiel's shadowy wings. He enjoyed the feel of those luxurious wings against his skin, loved the feel of Castiel shuddering against him, loved making him moan every time that Dean touched him.
Every day, Dean would listen for the sounds of Castiel's departure - that distinctive heavy flap of feathered wings cutting through the air, taking his angel, his love, his life away from him for another day. Dean always dreaded the time when Castiel had to leave him, felt loneliness, pain, the loss of him leaving, even though he knew Castiel would return to him.
The angel always did return, not wanting it any other way.
tbc