Crazy Stupid Love

by Crowley For King

Cas is struggling with the onset of human emotions. Shockingly, Dean helps him through it...until Cas confesses something that sends Dean running behind emotional walls. But after a run in with a necromancer, the trio decides a little R&R in Rufus's cabin will do them some good. For Dean and Cas, it's the perfect opportunity to get to know each other off the battlefield. Wing!fic

2. Chapter 2

It took a few seconds for Castiel to realize that the sound of laboured breathing was coming from him and a few seconds longer to realize that blood was rushing into his lungs with every deep inhale. He coughed violently, the sound wet where it rattled deep in his chest, and pain seared around his rib cage when his muscles contracted and shifted the broken bones.

"Cas!" One of the brothers was at his side, a large hand on his shoulder. "Hey man, take it easy."

Now that the distraction of the life or death battle was gone, the pain that Castiel had been ignoring was hitting him full force and he fell to his knees, teeth bared in a bloody snarl and wings flaring to keep him balanced - but the brothers caught him under the arms and held him up.

"Let go," groaned Cas through clenched teeth, feeling muscles pull at his broken bones from where he hung limply between them.

But their hands didn't loosen on his arms and they were talking above him and tugging at where they gripped his arms, causing a fresh wave of white hot pain to rip through his torso and, despite his best efforts to contain it, a cry made it past his lips and he angrily flared his wings, effectively dislodging the hunters. Without their support, he promptly fell to the ground and another cough wracked his body, blood spilled from his lips.

"Cas...gotta get up..."

What the angel was sure was Sam's disembodied voice reached his brain in choppy intervals through the blood pounding in his ears, but he ignored it, instead folding his wings around his body like a cocoon and trying desperately to reach his suppressed grace. If he could just touch it...but it was as if it were locked away inside him, just out of reach, and maybe if he wasn't in so much pain - if he could just focus-

Hands were on him again but this time they were gentle, hesitant, as they pushed at his wings, no doubt so that they could try and drag him around some more, and he flicked the edge of the massive appendage angrily with a growled, "Off!"

He tried again to reach for his grace but was blocked just as firmly and he groaned in frustration and pain, turning his face into his own soft feathers. It was no use. Something had to be done about the wards.

"The wards." He panted, the words sticking in his throat when a fresh wave of blood rushed over his vocal chords. "The wards." He repeated, scrunching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the mountain of pain. "Destroy them."

He heard scuffling, arguing and then silence for a while. Darkness was creeping in at the corners of his mind and he felt his grace flicker weakly behind the witch's barrier like a dying flame. Warm blood was seeping from his body and through his feathers, sticky and congealing on the flesh underneath and more of the life sustaining liquid was filling his mouth faster than he could spit it out.

And then suddenly he felt his grace pulse powerfully, like it had been pushing against a door that someone had abruptly pulled open, and the angel latched on to it hungrily. He howled with the pain of it ripping through him in a furious wave, cleansing the necromancer's taint and mending broken bones and shredded tissue.

It only lasted a few seconds before his power was once again weakened but he'd managed to repair most of the damage. Blood had been cleared from his lungs and all the bones that had been broken by the hell beasts had been mended and he was left only with a few scrapes and bruises and a considerably lessened amount of pain.

He pulled a clean breath of air into his lungs and eased his wings back so that he could peel his eyes open and take stock of his surroundings.

Two incredibly worried looking faces were hovering in front of him, pale and blood spattered but otherwise alright.

"Jesus, Cas, you scared the hell outta me!" Dean cried accusingly, as if the angel hadn't nearly just died to save their asses. "Are you alright?" He asked next, tone still aggressive and rough.

"I am...better than I was," the angel answered, shifting to get a feel for anything that might still be broken.

The brothers shared a look, the harsh lines around their eyes not easing in the slightest.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I am no longer concerned that I'm about to die." He sighed, his eyes drooping. "I am still...very weak..." He was so tired. "My wings...the wards-"

"Yeah, we get it, it's ok, Cas." Sam assured him and again he felt tentative hands on his wings. "Just...just take it easy ok, we're gonna get you out of here."

The touch to his wings was light and cautious but his feathers flared all the same in response, standing at attention like a spooked cat and causing both brothers to suck in a breath and take a step back, wide eyed.

Dean blinked rapidly a few times and then turned a furious gaze on his brother, punching him in the arm hard enough to make Sam cry out in surprise.

"You idiot, you hurt him!"

The younger brother paled and looked even more distressed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"

"Shut up!" Castiel snapped. "Both of you." He pushed himself into a sitting position, arching his wings up so that most of them were off the dirty floor and held out a hand. "Help me up. I want to get out of here."

It took some team work but eventually they got the angel in the car. It worked out well really. The only way he could fit comfortably was if he folded his wings to his back and laid down across the back seat, which was just fine with him. He felt drained of both his angelic essence and physical energy and even though most of the pain was gone, if he moved too fast, or the wrong way, flashes of fire still made him clench his teeth.

It felt like no time at all before the boys were coaxing him out of the car, but, as the sun glared down on them from the highest point in the sky, Castiel realized they must have driven for hours, given that when he'd gotten in the car it had been dark out.

He pushed their hands away when the brothers moved to support him and grumbled out a surly, "I can walk, thank you" and pushed away from the car.

They were at Rufus' cabin, Castiel realized when he glanced around. The brothers must have driven straight there after they'd scraped him off the floor of that Yenaldoosie's lair. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the wind blowing through the trees calm him, and stretched his wings out and upwards, grateful that there was no pain from them and that the demon spawn hadn't managed to get its rotten teeth into them. But he grimaced when he felt some of the feathers stick together with dried blood and brought the tip of one wing down to examine it closely, fingers combing through the congealed substance uselessly, mouth twisted in disgust.

"Cas, come on."

There was gentle pressure between his shoulder blades and Castiel mindlessly allowed Dean to guide him towards the cabin while he continued to try and clean the dried blood from his feathers.

Once they were inside, Sam quickly went to open all the windows in an attempt to rid the cabin of its stale, unused smell while Dean disappeared into another room.

Castiel barely noticed them, his attention focused solely on combing his fingers through his feathers. It was instinct, a compulsion, one that every angel had. Wings were next to useless for flight and in battle if they weren't clean. He carded his fingers through the feathers in practiced strokes; although at this point he might be doing more harm than good as his hands were caked in dried blood as well.

A small sound of dismay eased its way from his throat at the realization and he looked at his hands helplessly as a fresh wave of exhaustion crashed over him and he wavered.

"Alright, Cas, c'mere." Dean said, suddenly appearing before him and taking hold of his arm to pull him along.

"No, I need to clean-"

"I know, we're going to the sink."

It was already filled with soapy water and Castiel blinked down at it with concern, seeing it as evidence of how out of it he must be if he hadn't heard the running water and the hunter rummaging around in the cupboards for detergent.

The soap was sweet smelling; a strange contrast to the dinginess of the old cabin.

A sharp screech of metal sliding against metal close behind him made the angel start and spin around. Luckily, Dean had the sense to duck out of the way of the solid joint that would have struck him across the temple.

Eyeing the pair of rusty scissors in the hunter's hand, Castiel felt a pang on uneasiness coil tightly around his lungs.

"What are you doing?" He asked, subconsciously folding his wings tightly against his back. His eyes darted around the room briefly, wondering where Sam had gone.

"We just need to get your jacket off, buddy." Dean explained, his eyes soft while he held the scissors aloft. "Can't have you sleeping in bloody clothes."

He supposed that made sense, though his eyes darted down from Dean's reassuring gaze to the nasty looking blades held in his hand and his wings bristled defensively without his permission and completely betrayed the fact that he wasn't at all comfortable showing his back, or his wings, to anyone holding a weapon; no matter how good their intentions.

The realization of what his body language was saying was not lost on Dean and Castiel could tell the exact moment the hunter realized what he wasn't saying. His broad shoulders drooped a little and fine lines of both hurt and surprise etched themselves into his handsome face.

"I'm sorry." For some reason, Castiel felt the need to apologize, though for what he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't want Dean to look at him with that expression for a second longer. "I've never...I'm not..." He struggled to explain what he was feeling, wanted to tell Dean just what it meant for an angel to have their wings manifested like this, but he couldn't find the words; he wasn't entirely sure what it was that he was feeling in the first place. It had been thousands of years since he'd last had to worry about the vulnerability of his wings and last time he hadn't been alone – without the protection of his brothers and sisters.

The look on Dean's face was still there, despite his poor attempt to dispel it. In fact, Castiel was rather sure it was getting worse. The taller man huffed what might have been a laugh of disbelief and said quietly, "Cas, I would never hurt you."

"I know." He rushed to reassure. "I know." His eyes darted down to the scissors and then back up to Dean's face before he slowly turned around, every muscle in his body and wings taut as a bow string.

When he felt the hunter's hand between his shoulder blades he jumped even though the hunter was being so gentle that the pressure from his hand was barely there, just enough to let Castiel know where his hand was.

"Ok, I'm gonna start with the right side." He was informed.

True to his word, Castiel felt the hunter's hand slide down to the base of his right wing and a finger hooked under the torn fabric surrounding the soft downy feathers. He felt the Dean tug the coat away from his body just far eough to slide the scissors in and, with the first sounds of the steel tearing through the fabric, Castiel felt his eye twitch nervously, every instinct telling him to turn around and not only melt those scissors into scrap metal but to smite the fucker holding them.

Luckily, Dean made short work of the whole thing and only a few moments later Castiel was pulling off the trenchcoat, suit jacket and dress shirt and leaning on the counter by the sink, wings pulled in to his sides and glaring at the hunter over the edges of dark feathers.

"Get those away from me before I turn them into scrap metal."

With a partially aborted grin, Dean tossed them onto the table and held up his empty hands.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead took a moment to consider what exactly it was that he was feeling. The anxious flutter in his chest and the nervous tremor in his muscles was an unexpected reaction to having his wings exposed like they were. He had never before manifested them without at least one of his brothers or sisters around and it left him feeling incredibly...vulnerable.

And of course that probably meant that Dean believed it was him personally that Castiel mistrusted, though that in and of itself was so absurd that the angel didn't even know how to begin to correct the man.

Just as he opened his mouth to at least attempt to reassure the man, Sam reappeared in the main room.

Castiel saw his brown eyes sweep over his wings and they bristled again. He pulled them close to his sides and willed the feathers to lay flat, heat rising in his face.

"Good to go?" Dean asked, effectively redirecting Sam's focus.

The taller man gave a nod and smiled softly at Cas. "I cleaned out one of the rooms so you can get some rest." His eyes fell to his blood soaked torso and it was only then that Castiel remembered that the reason he was standing by the sink in the first place was because he was filthy.

After he'd gotten the worst of the blood and grim off his skin and feathers, the whole while cursing the witch to the deepest bowels of hell for depleting his grace with her stupid wards, Castiel had just enough energy to drag his feet to the bedroom Dean pointed to and shut the door behind him.

There was a single bed pushed against the wall with a pile of blankets laid out haphazardly on top. He eyed the set up dubiously, knowing that there was no way he'd be able to lay down and have his wings fit comfortably. So he grasped the edge of the blankets and pulled them to the floor, grabbing the few pillows from the bed and tossing them to the ground as well.

It looked terribly uncomfortable and he raised his hand, chastising himself even before he called upon his weakened grace. He shouldn't strain himself in the state he was in for such a trivial thing, but he was so tired and the call of a comfortable place to rest his head was so enticing...

When he collapsed, it was into a pile of fluffy pillows and soft sheets.

There was no way to know how much time had passed when Castiel next regained consciousness. He had hazy memories of waking to darkness outside the small window in the room and to sunlight. There was a vague recollection of the door opening and closing once or twice and a silhouette of what he hoped had been either Sam or Dean hovering in the doorway. He remembered waking to an ache in his wing and rolling over to stretch them out before falling back into unconsciousness.

This time when he woke, it was dark outside the window; not the darkness of night but that of a looming storm. He sighed, waiting for the grogginess of sleep to leave him while the first raindrops pattered against the glass in the wall over his head.

A rumble of thunder sounded not too far off and the angel sat up with a groan, limbs heavy and muscles stiff.

When he stumbled into the main room, the smell of rain, damp earth, and clean air was the first thing he noticed and he inhaled the scent through his nose, grateful that it had replaced the stale, dusty smell from before. The next thing he noticed was that the door was open a crack and muffled voices could be heard on the porch.

His feet were bare and soundless when he walked across the old floor boards, their well-worn surface cool under his skin. He realized then that he was wearing a pair of Dean's pajama pants and tried to recall if he'd put them on himself or if one of the brothers had done it. He supposed it didn't matter and was just grateful he was no longer wearing the dirty slacks.

Silently, he moved to the door with the intention of making sure that the people outside were just Sam and Dean, but when he heard the elder hunter's voice he stopped and listened.

"You should have seen the way he looked at me, man." Dean was saying in a low voice; Cas could envision him shaking his head as he spoke. "It's like he thought as soon as he turned his back I was gonna clip his wings or something." The man's voice was wounded, a far cry from the mildly upset look Castiel had read on his face when presented with the rusty scissors, and he frowned, leaning closer to the door.

"Dean, chill out, ok?" Sam said, his voice gentle. "He'd just gotten beaten near to death saving our asses...he was pretty out of it." There was a lull of silence before the younger man continued. "Besides, I read that an angel's wings are like a physical manifestation of their actual grace, which means that an injury to them could be a big problem. Not turning his back on a guy holding a rusty pair of scissors is probably ingrained into his instincts."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The man sounded far from convinced but he wasn't all that sure how he could reassure him. After all they had been through surely Dean wasn't suddenly doubting Castiel's trust in him over his reluctance to turn his back on a pair of rusty scissors.

He turned from the door and moved into the kitchen, the itch of thirst in the back of his throat which was a pretty good indication that his grace had not replenished itself yet. He scowled into the glass of water he poured himself, partially regretting using his grace to conjure up more pillows and blankets and partially wanting to go fling himself back into the nest he'd made.

He gulped down the water, put the glass in the sink and made a beeline for the bedroom but nearly jumped a foot in the air when Sam's voice was suddenly in the room with him.

"Hey, you're up!"

His wings flared out in surprise as he turned and he pulled them back against his body with a glower. It was easy for him to keep emotion off his face but his wings were a different story. They made him more of an open book then he'd like.

Sam must have mistaken his glare, though, and froze up in the doorway, blocking his brother from entering the cabin.

"Er, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"Dude, get out of the way," grumbled Dean, shoving his brother forward and into the room. When he caught sight of Cas, his green eyes flicked to stare over his shoulder, his gaze undeniably curious, and the angel pulled his wings tight against his back, making the ebony feathers lie as flat as possible to try and make the appendages look smaller.

He averted his eyes, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, incredibly unused to having his wings visible around anyone other than a handful of his brothers and sisters; an uncontrollable display of his emotions, out in the open for everyone to see.

Dean clearing his throat cut through the tense atmosphere and made him raise his eyes from the floor.

"You hungry, Cas?"

It was on obvious invitation to change the subject but it made him frown non the less, recognizing at once the empty feeling in his stomach for what it was. "Yes. I think so."

The elder hunter threw a look over his shoulder as he pulled open the ancient fridge, the hinges crackling with rust and disuse. "You want a burger? I'm gonna make some."

Soon enough, the smell of cooking meat had permeated the little cabin and the ache in Castiel's stomach had deepened to the point where it was the only thing he could think about He sat in front of the open fire place, legs stretched out and crossed in front of him, hands braced on the rug behind him and wings relaxed over his shoulders, the warmth from the fireplace making him feel sleepy. If it wasn't for the gnawing hunger he'd likely have fallen asleep again right there on the floor.

The sound of paper scraping over paper when Sam turned a page in his book made his eyes snap open and his wings twitch as he jerked back in to full consciousness. He threw himself backwards onto the surprisingly soft rug and stretched his wings out across the floor as much as he could, given the small space. It didn't ease the stiffness of the muscles much and he was barely able to unfold them half way before the long flight feathers where curling up the sides of the chairs either side of the fire place.

He grumbled, pulling them back towards his body and rolling over onto his side, his left wing underneath him like a feathery mattress, and the other against his side like a blanket. Within minutes, the intense heat of the fire - he was sitting much closer than a human could bear - had soaked through his feathers and was making his eyes heavy once more.

But, just as sleep pulled him down, Dean's voice cut through his groggy brain like a chain saw and pulled him back.

"Food's ready!"

He rolled on to his knees slowly, grudgingly, wishing his grace wasn't so depleted that he needed to eat because, quite frankly, all he really wanted to do was sleep for about ten years. Luckily, he didn't have to get off the floor and a plate with a delicious looking hamburger was thrust before his face when he was still trying to muster the energy to stand up.

"Jeez, Cas, you're like a friggin' furnace!" Dean cried when the angel took the plate and their fingers brushed. The man's large hand was instantly pressing against his forehead, worry lines creasing around his eyes. "Sam, he's burning up!"

Mild annoyance could be felt through the warm feeling Dean's concern had stirred up and Castiel gently pushed the man's hand away. "Dean, I'm fine."

"The hell you are, Cas, your skin is so hot I can hardly touch it!"

Sam had stood from the table and had come to stand beside his brother, looking mildly concerned.

He stared up at them for a moment longer, the plate of food still in his hands, before sitting cross-legged and turning his back to them with a muttered. "I'm fine."

He could almost feel both sets of eyes staring at the back of his head and he hunched his shoulders up, the joints in his wings rising with them and pressing soft against his ears. "Stop staring at me." He grumbled through a mouthful of burger.

"Cas, you've got a fever or something, I'm not just gonna-"

With the patience of a saint, Castiel set his plate on the floor in front of him and stood to turn and regard the elder hunter.

"Dean. I am not sick, I am just tired. Angels run hot and when our batteries are drained, as you say, our grace isn't as strong and it feels...cold," he said, trying his best to explain. "The warmth of the fire is simply comforting to me. The hotter the better, actually. Stop worrying. I could sit right in the flames and it wouldn't damage me."

The hunter blinked at him a few times before he muttered a soft, "oh" and a visible blush began to work its way up his neck.

He turned back to his spot in front of the fire, his mouth watering just at the thought of taking another bite of the burger, and reclaimed his seat, scooting a bit closer to the grate and spreading his wings slightly to catch the heat.

The res of the day passed uneventfully, with both brothers spread out on a sofa, Sam reading some dusty book he'd found lying around and Dean watching the television on low with a half interested gaze.

Castiel had remained in front of the fire place, accepting an armful of blankets from Sam just after supper and bunching them up on the floor to lay on. With the softness of the makeshift nest under him and the heat from the roaring fire, which Dean had dutifully stoked with new logs every time it started to die down, Castiel had fallen asleep quickly.

When he woke again, it was dark outside the dirty cabin windows and the television had been turned off; the only sound was the crackle and pop of the fireplace still burning strong in the grate. He took stock of himself, noticing at once that he felt less groggy and his muscles weren't as stiff as they had been, though he believed the heat might have had something to do with it.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling, the only light source in the room that which was coming from the hearth.

Out of instinct, he tried again to stretch his wings, making a small sound of disappointment when they once again were impeded by the furniture around him, and pulled them back against his body, absently running his fingers through a tangle of feathers to straighten them out.

"Sleep well?"

The sudden sound of Dean's voice startled him, though the hunter's tone was hushed, and Castiel rolled up into a crouch, heart pounding and wings fanned low before he realized there was absolutely no threat and he pulled the appendages back in embarrassment.

Dean was wide eyed but grinning where he sat on the end of the sofa and a chuckle wobbled uncertainly past his lips. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to scare you."

The heat of the fire was intense at Castiel's back, "I...thought I was alone." The spot of tangled feathers itched unpleasantly, demanding his attention.

"Oh, don't let me stop you," Dean smirked, picking up the book in his lap. He didn't look down at it though but continued to watch the angel closely.

For the first time in a long time, Castiel felt uneasy around the man and unsure of what to do with himself. For some reason he did not care to investigate, being alone with Dean and knowing the hunter could see his wings made him feel strange. Exposed.

The uncertainty he was feeling must have shown, for the hunter's face suddenly fell and he tossed the book onto the end table, leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and fixed Castiel with a stern gaze.

"Alright, talk to me, man. What's got you so..." He waved around one of his large hands, apparently searching for the right word, "...shy?"

The angel blinked owlishly back at him. Was he being shy? Is that what he was feeling? "I...I don't know why. An angel's wings are..." Delicate was not the right word, "Vulnerable." He supposed would work. "It makes me...nervous."

Dean's handsome face suddenly lost most of its colour; he looked stricken. "You think me or Sam will hurt you?"

"No!" He rushed to reassure, dismayed that he was apparently so terrible at communicating that he was giving the entirely wrong impression. He itched to stand and go to the man but remained stubbornly seated on the floor, memories of their talk in the bar leading him to believe Dean likely wanted to keep some space between them. "No, of course not. I just – I'm not -" He sighed sharply through his nose, looking away from Dean's confused eyes and wishing he could find the right words to explain himself. "It would be like having your heart on the outside of your body instead of within the protection of your rib cage." He said as a last ditch effort to try and make the other man understand.

Finally Dean's expression cleared and the lines around his eyes softened in understanding. "Oh...ok yeah, I can see why that would make you nervous."

His gentle smile turned into a grimace when his feathers puffed in delight and knots in several places tugged uncomfortably. He twisted immediately to comb his fingers roughly through the closest knot, a clump of downy-soft feathers close to his body, the need to straighten the feathers twitching under his skin.

Once he got it sorted he sighed in mild relief before moving on to the next spot, curling his wing around in front of him to reach it.

Several minutes passed in blissful silence while Castiel sorted out the worst of the knots and then reached deftly behind him to run his fingers over the small gland at the base of his right wing, immediately feeling the warm oil coat his fingers. The crackling fire was nothing more than gentle sound in the hazy background of Castiel's awareness as he set about grooming his wings with practised movements, fingers sliding along each feather quickly and carefully. The task was comforting in its familiarity and there was just something incredibly calming about grooming his wings and, as with any other time, the angel quickly zoned out, the world around him disappearing as he went through the repetitive motions.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Castiel stood and flared his wings, ruffling the feathers, pleased that every single one was sleek and shining in the firelight.

When he finally tore his eyes away from ogling his own wings he saw Dean sitting stiffly on the couch, eyes narrowed and bottom lip caught tightly between his teeth.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asked, mildly concerned about the hunter's strained expression.

"Fine." He jerked in his seat on the sofa and then stood swiftly, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "All good."

Castiel watched in growing confusion as Dean stretched his arms over his head and gave what was clearly an exaggerated yawn before announcing abruptly that he was going to bed and suddenly Cas was standing by himself in the sitting room, the only sound the crackling fire behind him and the loud whirlwind of questions swirling around in his head.

He wished he was as good at reading people as Sam was. That man would have been able to take one look at Dean and known exactly what he was thinking. Castiel, as usual, had no such talents and so was left feeling lost and confused in the wake of Dean's sudden departure.

Had he perhaps done something to upset the man? Maybe having an angel sitting on his floor and grooming his wings was a little too strange? His face scrunched up, that seemed highly unlikely, given everything Dean had seen and been through.

As he trudged to his own room to grab the extra blankets, he found himself wishing that he had never told Dean about his feelings. To his credit, though, the hunter seemed to be handling it rather well. Sure it had been awkward the day after but then they'd gone after that witch crossbreed and everything had seemed to return back to normal. He might even dare to say that Dean seemed to be...

He tossed the new load of blankets down in front of the fire, dropping to his knees to arrange them how he wanted.

Dean seemed to be more...attentive? Observant? Whatever it was it was a noticeable change since they'd had the run in with that witch and her hell puppies. It seemed like every time Castiel looked, Dean was already staring at him - asking if he was hungry, comfortable, feeling alright.

He pushed at the edges of the blankets with the joint of his left wing a little moodily, fluffing them up before crashing down into them, wiggling around until he was comfortable and nearly buried in the nest of linens and pillows.

It was a long time before he fell asleep, staring into the flames of the fire and trying to decode Dean Winchester's insufferably confusing body language.

Hours later, just about when the sun's rays would have been struggling to cut through the darkness, Castiel was awoken by a bone rattling crack of thunder.

His head popped out of the mound of blankets at the sound, wings struggling under the weight of them, and he stared around the dark room, startled. The fire had long since died, casting the room in darkness, but within seconds of the deafening boom of thunder, the soft glow of candle light was visible as Sam stumbled into the room blearily, a single candle in his hand to light his way.

"Sam?"

The tall man visibly jumped and spun around to face Cas, lifting the candle a little higher and squinting into the dim light it provided.

"Cas? What are you doing sleeping out here?" He asked, taking a few steps closer to where the angel was cocooned in his nest of blankets.

Sam grinned widely when he spotted Cas in his nest on the floor, gaze soft and fond while he watched the angel struggle to untangle himself from the snarl of blankets he'd wrapped himself in.

"I wanted to stay by the fire." Cas explained, finally pulling his wing free of one of the sheets and shaking it out to settle the feathers again.

A flash of lightning momentarily lit up the room like a flood light, leaving him blinking, and was followed by another clap of thunder that rattled the windows.

"Here," said Sam, setting the candle down on the coffee table and moving to the pile of wood stacked by the door, "Let's get the fire going again."

He watched silently as Sam got the fire roaring and dusted off his hands, glancing behind him to where Castiel sat cross-legged on his pile of blankets before standing up slowly. But suddenly Castiel felt a need to talk to the man - about his stupid brother - and he grabbed Sam's hand and yanked him down to sit beside him, waiting for his startled look to clear.

"This is pretty comfy, actually," said the taller man, pushing at the blankets with one large hand.

Castiel watched him with pursed lips, resisting the urge to bat his hand away from the carefully arranged blankets and instead brought the tip of one wing around to run his fingers through the feathers nervously. He and Sam had not been alone together since the night Sam had convinced him to tell Dean how he felt about him and Castiel had been eager to talk about the disastrous result, hoping the man might be able to shed some light on what he'd done wrong.

"Where is Dean?" He asked, just to be sure.

Sam snorted a laugh. "He doesn't like to admit it, but Dean could sleep through a tornado ripping through the cabin. He'll wake up if a monster sneezes within a two mile radius but no way would a storm wake him."

Castiel nodded, nerves making his stomach clench and he pulled his wing closer, combing his fingers through the long flight feathers and pressing his cheek to the smaller, softer feathers on the ridge of bone.

When he looked back up, Sam's large brown eyes were watching him closely and, unlike Dean, he did not seem to be embarrassed about being caught staring. He blinked owlishly at the young Winchester but the man held his gaze, eyes darting every so often down to where his fingers were carding through his feathers.

"Sam?" He finally asked.

"Sorry," said Sam at once, eyes snapping back up with a grin. "Not every day that you get to observe an angel just...being himself." His smile turned gentle, "Sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just...kind of fascinating."

He sensed that the man had questions. Sam had that same look on his face that he had whenever he learned something new or walked into a library. A flash of lighting outside the windows only seemed to highlight the eager spark in his brown eyes, but Castiel was concerned that this would be his only chance to talk to him alone for some time and he wanted to get the conversation out of the way. The thought of having to go on wondering about Dean and where they stood left him with a cold feeling in his gut that was incredibly unpleasant.

"I wanted to ask you about Dean," the angel said, drawing comfort from the feel of his silky feathers against his skin.

Sam's smile fell and he gave a resolute nod. After a moment of silence, in which another, less aggressive rumble of thunder sounded, he looked up and said with utter conviction. "I stand by what I said at that bar, Cas."

He looked up, surprised by Sam's insightfulness. "You do?"

"Yes. I do. Dean's an idiot. I know that. You know that. Even he knows that." His eyes fell to where Castiel was still absently running his fingers through his feathers. "Dean..." He bit his lip, eyes flashing to the open doorway that lead down the hall to the bedrooms and bathroom. "Dean will come around. He might just need a kick in the pants." He scoffed. "And I think the run in with that witch was just the thing he needed to admit how he feels about you."

Now, Castiel felt more confused than reassured and he frowned up at the taller man. "The witch? What part did she have to play in all this?"

Sam just stared at him for a second as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. "Man, we thought we were gonna lose you." His eyes turned sad and he dropped his gaze to where he was fiddling with the corner of one of the blankets. "You were in bad shape. Really bad shape."

The angel was unsure of what to say. He had been unaware of just how badly he'd been injured. The fight itself was foggy in his memory, but evidently, if it had been bad enough to rattle the Winchesters then it must have been pretty bad.

"Anyway," Sam continued, shaking his head a little. "Dean was a wreck on the car ride here. He kept calling your name and every time you didn't respond I swear he broke a little more. I've never seen him so upset."

When Sam looked up again, Castiel dropped his gaze, unable to hold it under the intense weight of the revelation that Dean was apparently devastated by his brush with death.

"Not to mention all he kept saying was how you'd done it all to save our asses and if you died because of that he'd never forgive himself. I'm telling you man, he was near hysterical. It took me an hour to talk him out of going after her to finish the job."

Well, that was rather a lot of information to take in, Castiel thought. He'd been unsure of Dean's feelings for him ever since the night he'd been vehemently rejected, but he also knew it wasn't as clean cut as Dean pretended it to be. There was clearly something there but the elder hunter seemed reluctant to admit it, even to himself. Although, as Sam said, the incident with the witch had changed something; even Cas had noticed the difference in the way Dean was looking at him, looking after him and generally being just...softer around the edges.

"Do you think it's because I'm an angel?" He asked.

Sam blinked at him. "What?"

"Do you think he struggles with admitting his feelings for me because I'm an angel? I know that inter-species relationships are something of a sore point for humans." Castiel clarified.

He wasn't sure why Sam was suddenly blushing and ducking his head, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Uhh...I honestly don't know, Cas. I mean it could be but I doubt it."

He bit his lip, "When I was grooming my wings earlier, he ran from the room. He seemed uncomfortable."

It was Sam looking uncomfortable now. "I don't think he was uncomfortable for the reasons you think." He rubbed at one of his eyes, "But I really think you should be talking to Dean about this it's a bit, er, personal now."

"But what do you mean? Uncomfortable how?" Castiel insisted, not understanding.

Sam's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to get any words out. "I-"

"What are you guys doin' up?"

Dean's groggy voice made both of them twist around to stare at him where he stood in the doorway leading into the hall.

"I could ask the same of you." Sam said smoothly, looking relieved at the interruption.

Dean sneered at his brother and shuffled across the room to get a beer from the fridge and soon was sitting down on the pile of blankets on the other side of Cas, who was sitting tense and still carding his fingers through his feathers.

"Storm wake you guys?" Dean asked conversationally, staring into the fire, beer unopened in his hand.

At this point, Castiel thought that maybe getting a beer out of the fridge was just a habit, as he often did it and never opened the bottle.

"Yes." They chorused awkwardly together.

Suddenly Dean's eyes turned to the wing that was between them, the one Cas was running his fingers through, and his free hand darted out to brush his fingertips over the ridge of bone.

It was like someone zapped him with electricity and Castiel yelped at the unexpected feel of Dean's hand on him and jerked away, pushing into Sam's side as he stared wide eyed over the edge of his wing at Dean's equally startled expression.

"I'm sorry!" The elder hunter cried, both hands held up before him as if to prove to Cas he wasn't going to touch him again. "I'm sorry, Cas." He repeated.

Sam's hand was on his back, resting between his wings, careful not to touch, holding him upright.

"No, it's alright," Cas said after a moment, the lingering feel of...not unpleasant sparks tingling along his nerve endings.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked, looking upset at the very thought.

Castiel rushed to reassure him as best he could while still trying to get himself under control. His heart was fluttering furiously in his chest. "No. No it just caught me off guard. An angel's wings are very sensitive."

He shook off Sam's hands and pushed himself up on shaky legs, trying to ignore the wounded look on Dean's face.

"Cas..." Dean trailed off when he moved away from them and towards the door.

"It's fine, Dean. I just need some air."

Castiel tried not to seem like he was rushing to escape the cabin but he was sure he failed when he opened the door so quickly that it bounced off the wall behind it. When he stepped out onto the rickety porch he took a grateful breath of air, feeling his head clear almost immediately.

The rain had lightened to a drizzle and the early morning sun was trying hard to break through the canopy of dark grey cloud cover, but to no avail. A low rumble of thunder rolled over his head; the storm was not going to go without a fight, it seemed. He looked off towards the woods that surrounded the small cabin and could see thick mist hanging suspended close to the ground, curling up moss covered tree trunks that were dark from the rain.

Glancing over his shoulder once, Castiel descended the stairs and made his way towards the woods, the damp grass cool on his bare feet. The need to be by himself was strong and he walked deeper and deeper into the woods, the early morning mist swirling gently around his legs as he walked on the soft moss covering the forest floor. Eventually, he came to a clearing in the trees and was finally able to stretch his wings fully. He reached upwards with an appreciative groan, the tips of his longest flight feathers straining into the murky sky.

The sound of a twig snapping off to his left made the angel turn and he peered into the gloomy mist of the line of trees at the edge of the clearing, wings flaring outward and feathers standing on end threateningly. It was several seconds later when he noticed the pair of yellow eyes staring at him curiously through the mist.

"Dean, would you just relax?"

He ignored his brother and continued to pace back and forth from the sitting room to the kitchen, around the table and back again, angrily sucking back the rest of the beer in his hand.

"How can I relax, man, you saw the way he tore out of here!" He shook his head, "Like my touch fucking burned him or something." He shook his head, feeling something cold twisting around in his stomach like a snake.

"Have you considered that maybe your touch didn't hurt him but just overwhelmed him?" Sam said, still sitting on Cas' nest of blankets. "He said his wings are sensitive, he wasn't expecting the contact and probably hasn't had human hands on his wings like, ever." He shrugged. "You probably just caught him off guard."

Dean had at least stopped pacing and seemed to be contemplating his brother's theory.

"Maybe next time just ask before you molest him." Sam couldn't help it, the urge to get a dig in was just ingrained in him too strongly.

Dean could feel his face turning red. "I didn't molest him. His feathers just looked really soft and I wanted to..." He trailed off, suddenly aware of what he was saying and the fact that his little brother was grinning broadly at him. "Shut up."

"So when are you gonna get your shit together and tell Cas how you feel about him?"

"What the hell, Sam?!"

"You know, he thinks you're hung up on it because he's an angel." Sam's smile dropped and he fixed his brother with an intense stare. "Is that why you won't admit it? Because he's not human?"

"Sam..."

"Or is it because he's a guy? Are you really so worried about his gender? Because I know you've-"

"For Christ's sake, Sam..."

He'd stood up by now and was standing in front of his brother, very much in his personal space. Dean's face was still red but now it was anger pumping the blood up against his skin instead of embarrassment.

"No Dean, tell me. What the hell is your problem? It's obvious that you two have feelings for each other, I'd even go so far as to say you lo-"

"I'd be no good for him!" Dean shouted suddenly, the words flinging themselves from his mouth without his permission. He blinked a few times, but then accepted the slip up for what it was.

If anything, he felt the tight knot of worry in his stomach ease a little. He knew that Sam already knew – the jerk just always seemed to know these things somehow – and the fact that he'd admitted it was simply icing on the cake for his little brother. If he was honest with himself, though, Dean would admit that Sam always had something useful to say in these situations. He might even admit that he was eager to see if his brother had any advice on how he could clean up his mess.

Silence filled the room after his admission, as thick and suffocating as cement, while the two stared at one another, both shocked that Dean had spoken at all. The elder hunter cleared his throat and his eyes found his shoes.

"I...wouldn't be any good for him," he repeated quietly and then he looked back up at his brother with a bitter smile. "Cas is an angel, Sam. He's good and pure and...and I'd just corrupt him."

Sam just stared back at, his mouth hanging open, for several long seconds before he could finally manage to form a sentence. "You really think so little of yourself? You think Cas thinks so little of you?"

But Dean merely shook his head and avoided his brother's gaze by looking resolutely out the nearest window into the gloomy morning rain, his jaw set stubbornly. "You can't honestly think that Cas would want someone like me," he muttered. "Some piece of shit monster he had to pry away from the torture rack in hell."

"God, you really are unbelievable." Sam snapped, coming to stand well within his brother's personal space bubble so that he could lean in as close to his ear as possible without his lips touching it.

"CAS. FUCKING. LOVES. YOU!" He screamed, making sure to pronounce each word separately.

Dean had jerked away from him immediately, of course, and was now staring at his little brother with an expression that read somewhere between mild concern and moderate confusion.

"Sam-"

"No!" The taller brother cried, genuine anger written all over his face. "No! I'm done with you and your bullshit!" He plucked the empty beer from Dean's hand, ignoring his bewildered look, and manhandled him over to the door of the cabin.

"Sam! Lemme go, man!" Dean struggled against his monstrous brother's hold on him to no avail.

He was tossed through the open door unceremoniously, managed to stumble down the stairs without causing any damage to himself, and then spun to stare up at his brother standing tall in the open doorway, incomprehension visible in every line of his body.

"Go find your damn angel and don't bother coming back until the two of have...worked out your damn issues!"

Sam grabbed Dean's boots from where they sat by the door, chucked them down the few rickety steps and then slammed the door resolutely in his face and Dean made it back up the stairs just as he heard the lock slide into place. He pounded his fist on the door.

"Sam! Man, it's fucking raining! Open the door you douche bag!"

The only answer he got was the sound of a large piece of furniture being dragged into place in front of the door.

With a disbelieving huff, Dean shook his head and turned back to look out into the drizzle and swirling mist and stomped off into the line of trees to the side of the cabin. He was in no way being graceful as he moved through the woods, each angry stomp of his foot crushing fallen leaves and twigs loudly so that he sounded more like a moose blundering through the trees instead of a stealthy hunter.

The pre-dawn light was still struggling to cut through the overcast sky and touch the earth but Dean felt grateful for the illusion of an extended night; everything always seemed so harsh in the light of day, and no more so than the light of morning. There was just something about it, like the sun lit up all your secrets and chased away any shadows to hide in.

He didn't like it.

But this – his steps softened and his pace slowed and he took a moment to take in the heavy silence of the humid forest. Even the birds seemed to be having a lie in and had not yet started to sing. When he glanced down at his feet, curls of dense mist clung to his jeans, now dark with dampness from the dew that had soaked them through.

With an exasperated sigh, Dean stopped walking and squinted into the dim light, trying to see if there were any signs that Castiel had passed this way. A footprint in the soft green moss or a broken branch on a sapling, anything. But of course there was nothing. Cas was an angel after all, he probably just floated through the woods, the edges of his holy trench coat gently caressing plants as he drifted past.

The mental image that gave him lightened Dean's mood considerably; enough, even, to make his lips twitch into a smile as he picked up walking in the same direction again.

His thoughts had just begun to wander into the dangerous territory of the logic behind his brother's angry words when a loud grunt off in the distance ahead of him caused him to stumble to a halt, every muscle taut and still, ears straining to catch any other noises.

For a moment there was nothing and then he heard it again. This time more clearly, now that he wasn't moving, and the harsh grunt made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

That had definitely sounded like a bear.

He swallowed and hesitated. Ghosts and demons he could deal with but massive wild animals with fangs? No way. But he froze in a half turn when he heard another sound. It was unfamiliar; unlike anything he'd heard from an animal, but reminded him vaguely of a show he'd seen about dolphins on the Discovery channel once. Kind of like a series of rapid clicks, but their depth was staggered, some so high he almost couldn't hear them and others so low that they rattled the voice box of whatever was making the noises.

Curiosity, as it often did, seemed to be doing a rather good job of smothering the instincts telling him to run and Dean found he had taken a few more steps towards the clicking sounds and soon found himself at the edge of a clearing, pushing branches out of the way to see.

The light had gained some strength but the hunter still found himself squinting in confusion at the breathing heap in the tall, wet grass before him. Whatever it was, was a good fifty feet away and was comprised of mostly fuzzy brown hair and something darker that glimmered in the gentle light cutting through the mist.

The one extra step he took to try and see the figure more clearly was one step too many and the sound of a twig snapping under his boot caused the continuous clicking to cut off immediately and the head of what Dean now knew to one hundred percent be a grizzly bear to pop up with a startled growl.

The giant animal reared up onto its hind legs almost immediately and Dean stumbled back. It stood eight feet tall and threatened him with an angry roar, drool flying from its sharp teeth.

But before it could even take a step towards him, Cas was suddenly there, sliding smoothly out from behind the enraged beast with a mildly amused look on his face. Dean watched incredulously as Castiel placed one of his hands against the beast's back and it instantly calmed.

It merely sniffed the air curiously and then slouched back to all fours and turned to butt its enormous fuzzy head gently against the angel's shirtless abdomen. Cas scratched behind its ears with a small smile and with every happy puff from the content bear, Dean felt his heart rate lower and eventually he was calm enough to speak without his voice shaking with adrenaline.

"Uh...Cas? You make a new friend?"

The angel's head snapped up, almost like he'd forgotten Dean was there, and his wings puffed outwards in delight.

"Yes!" He gestured for the hunter to come forward. "Her name is Aga," he explained while Dean took tentative steps towards the angel and his now calm, yet still terrifying, forest friend. "It means 'Mother'."

The hunter stopped within a few feet and held his ground when the bear pressed its cold nose into the palm of his proffered hand, trying his best not to let it shake. All things aside, he wasn't about to let Cas know a big fuzzy ball with teeth was making him nervous.

"So, um, is making animal friends a habit of yours?" He asked when the bear finally seemed to decide he was not a threat and rolled over onto its back with a groan.

"I enjoy spending time with all of my father's creations," said the angel, his expression gentle and fond when he glanced down at Aga. "Some more than others."

Dean's gaze snapped up from the bear to stare curiously into Castiel's blue eyes and under the soft yet piercing gaze, his conversation with Sam and the reason he was out here in the woods in the first place came crashing back over him.

He cleared his throat, the sound quite loud in the stillness of the clearing, and the bear jerked in surprise, squinting up at him.

"So, uh. Sam made me, er, I mean I just came to find you to say I was sorry for...like..." He trailed off and made a grabby motion with one of his hands while gesturing to the angel's wings.

He was surprised when the angel did not tuck them close to his back like he had been, though he saw some of the feathers closer to his body twitch as if he were fighting the impulse.

"You really did nothing wrong. It's just that it was the first time anyone had touched my wings while they were manifested on earth." His blue eyes blinked owlishly. "I had not expected it and they are very sensitive."

Right now, Castiel's wings were hanging relaxed but close to his body and the tips of some of the longer feathers were just tickling Aga's ears. They flicked a few times but when the irritation did not let up, she squinted and licked at the feather tips playfully.

Cas' attention was immediately on her and he grinned, pulling his wing up out of her reach until she swiped lazily at it with one huge paw.

"Well, I'm still sorry."

Something like a knot of worry was loosening in Dean's chest before he'd even known it was there. "So, uh, what do you say we head back to the cabin? Sam's gonna have my head if I come back without you."

"Can Aga come?" The angel asked, flicking the bear's ear with the tip of his wing.

The beast grunted loudly and rolled over to sit up, tall enough that she was looking down at Cas.

"Yeah, that's probably not a good idea, Cas," Dean said, not really sure why he felt guilty when the angel's face fell a little. They couldn't just have a giant bear in the cabin, after all.

They left Aga behind, but not before Cas spent ten more minutes scratching behind her ears and placing a kiss on her big wet nose, at which she gave a huff and licked a stripe up his face.

Dean smiled when his angel giggled, honest to god giggled, and wiped his face with his forearm, but when that dolphin like clicking noise suddenly reached his ears again his head snapped up from where he'd been digging a hole in the ground with the toe of his shoe.

He was shocked to realize that the noises were coming from Cas. The angel had his head bowed to press his forehead to Aga's and they were both still for a moment before breaking apart and the angel watched the bear saunter off back into the trees.

"What was that?" Dean asked when the angel reached his side.

"What was what?"

"That clicking noise."

For a moment Castiel did not reply but simply stared at him with a frown and the hunter was suddenly worried that perhaps Castiel hadn't made any noises and the clicking was in his own head. That would be just his luck, after all he'd managed to survive, he was going nuts.

"You could hear me?" The angel asked at length, his expression guarded.

He shrugged, more than a little relieved that the noises hadn't only been his imagination. "Yeah."

"Let's..." Castiel's blue eyes left his face and fixed on a point somewhere just beyond his shoulder. "Let's go back to the cabin."

The angel breezed past him, bare feet silent as he moved, and Dean was left standing there, confused, the chill of his wet pajama pants sticking to his ankles.

When they got back to the small log cabin, the light had finally managed to break through the cloud cover and was dotting the surrounding forest with broken beams of light.

When Castiel stepped out of the trees in front of him, that sunlight hit his wings and reflected the light so intensely for a moment that Dean had to squint and turn his face away. But then it was gone and he was left staring at the angel's impressive wingspan in the full light of day for the first time. In the cabin and the woods the light had been dim and did not do the appendages justice.

His feathers were dark, blacker than coal along the ridge of bone, and then gradually lightened a few shades down the backs of the wings and some of the flight feathers were actually steel grey. They were intimidating and beautiful and when Castiel flexed them powerfully in a single beat, Dean felt his stomach do a little flip.

He followed closely behind the angel, watching as the feathers rose up, fluffing out, before he ruffled his wings and everything settled. Just like a bird, he thought with a small smile.

Castiel had to tuck his wings in close so that he could fit through the door.

"Hey Cas," Dean heard his brother say, sounding a little relieved. "You shouldn't wander off like that when you're injured."

Dean came through the door just in time to see the angel scowl at his brother. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I meant more because I was worried sick."

"Oh, don't worry," Dean interjected smugly. "Cas made a new friend."

"A friend?"

Cas had already dived into his nest of blankets again and his voice was muffled when he said, "Her name is Aga."

"You met someone in the woods?" Sam looked mildly concerned so Dean was quick to reassure him.

"No, no. Aga is a grizzly bear," He informed his brother with a smile. Sam looked no less concerned. "I know that because I got to meet her too."

Sam's lips twitched in a valiant effort to refrain from grinning.

"I am so sorry I missed that." Sam teased, looking over to where Castiel was still rearranging his blankets with a dark expression - likely because Sam had messed them up somehow - before he cleared his throat loudly and announced, "Well now that you two are back I'm going to the grocery store."

Dean gave a start and tore his gaze away from where the angel finally seemed to be getting his nest thing under control and turned to stare at his brother. There was something like a seed of panic starting to take root in Dean's stomach because he knew the look on his brother's face exactly for what it was. Even so, his gut still twisted when Sam mouthed the words 'talk to him' as he grabbed the keys and escaped through the still open door of the cabin with a hurried goodbye to Cas thrown over his shoulder.

When he turned slowly back to the angel, he was on his knees staring at the closed door with a small frown of concern over Sam's abrupt departure, a white sheet hanging off his wing unnoticed.

Dean clearing his throat nervously drew the angel's attention from the door and onto him and he searched frantically for a safe topic of conversation. Though, as usual, Cas seemed completely oblivious to Dean's discomfort and merely tugged the sheet off his wing and returned to pushing around the blankets.

He took a few steps closer to the fireplace, knowing that his stupid brother was right. This dance between him and Cas couldn't keep going like it had been. It wasn't fair to either of them, and if it wasn't for Dean's own issues they could have already been well past this by now. Cas had taken the first step and fessed up to his feelings and Dean inwardly cringed when he thought back on how terribly he'd handled the confession.

But it had been like a punch to the gut. He'd resigned himself to burying those feelings for the angel for all eternity, sure that Castiel would never be able return his affections, and then suddenly there he was sitting across a dirty table, turning everything in Dean's world on its head.

And in typical Dean Winchester fashion, he'd responded with anger and some flimsy excuse about only liking women because, at the time, it had seemed like the best plausible excuse Cas might actually believe; because apparently he was incapably of reacting to emotional situations with any kind of rational thought or maturity.

He squared his shoulders and toed off his shoes.

Well today that was damn well gonna change.

He kicked off his boots and stood beside Cas' nest of blankets and didn't even get to ask before Cas had grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to sit beside him in front of the still roaring fire.

"So uh...you were going to tell me about that clicking noise?" Dean said, trying not to sound like a nervous teenager talking to his crush.

But it was hard when Castiel suddenly blushed and pulled a wing between them to card his fingers through the feathers in a gesture the hunter was quickly coming to realize was a nervous tic. He took a moment to marvel at just how much more open and readable Cas was when his wings were visible and added it to his list of questions he'd been meaning to ask the angel.

"It's...I didn't think you'd be able to hear me," Cas said, not meeting his eye, the colour in his face still present. "It's another way angels communicate with one another but humans aren't supposed to be able to hear it. As with anything, though, there are exceptions to the rule, as you often are. I'm sorry if it's strange."

Dean shook his head, not wanting Cas to think he couldn't be himself around him and his brother, but the fact that Castiel was not at all human was becoming more and more obvious...and Dean could honestly say he didn't care.

Suddenly he was overwhelmed with how important it was that Castiel understood that, remembering that Sam had told him Cas thought that it was because he was an angel that Dean had rejected him.

The other man was babbling on about sonar communication when Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, effectively getting the angel's blue eyes to snap up to his face in question.

"You know I don't care, right? Er, what I mean to say is Sam kinda told me that you think it freaks me out that you're not human."

The look on Cas' face told him that he wasn't communicating nearly as effectively as he'd like to and the hunter sighed in frustration.

"I'm sorry, man. I'm really not very good at this talking thing." It was then that an idea suddenly occurred to him and all the nervousness he was feeling just sort of melted away. He wasn't good at talking. He was a doer. Always had been, always would be.

"Is it alright if I just show you what I mean?" He knew the angel would say yes, even though he didn't know what it was he was saying yes to. The gentle tilt of his head confirmed Dean's suspicions but Cas nodded all the same.

So, with a steadying breath, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas'.

The angel's wings flared out in surprise, the loud whooshing noise covering his gasp, and Dean pulled away, hiding his grin behind his hand.

The angel's cheeks were red and his eyes were wide, the tips of his wings flicking back and forth.

"But you said -" Cas started.

"I was lying," Dean cut him off, not willing to allow the thought to even take root in the angel's mind. "I was being stupid, trying to deny what I was feeling for you."

He decided against telling Cas just why he'd been trying to bury those feelings; he doubted the angel would take well to hearing that Dean thought he'd taint him somehow. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he finished, reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers over Cas' hand.

The angel said nothing but when Dean felt something soft brush his cheek he looked up and saw Cas' blue eyes staring at him and out of the corner of his eye he could see a wall of dark feathers, some of which were pressing against his skin.

They were soft as silk and unnaturally warm and Dean had to keep his hand from instinctively snagging up to feel them. Instead he remained still, didn't look away from Castiel's blue eyes, and allowed the angel to set the pace. He knew that his wings were sensitive and that it made the angel feel incredibly vulnerable to have them visible; he didn't want to break what seemed like a delicate situation, since only a few four hours ago Cas had been tucking his wings against his body and trying to make them look as small as possible.

"So what do you think?" He asked at length. "Wanna give me a chance?"

For the first time he could remember, Castiel smiled. A full smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and showed all his straight white teeth and he felt himself mirror the action. Couldn't help it.

Cas didn't say anything, instead he grabbed hold of the front of the hunter's shirt and yanked him forward so that he could press their lips together. This kiss was much more satisfying than the last and Dean reveled in the feel of the angel's mouth moving, smooth and warm, against his.

When they broke apart again, he caught sight of Cas' pink tongue darting out to taste his lips and felt a spike of heat in his abdomen.

Dark feathers were no longer touching his face but they were close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from them. He wondered if they were always so warm or if it was just because Cas he been spending so much time sitting by the fire.

"Can I?" He asked, raising his hand so that his intention was clear.

Cas' eyes darted down to his hand but he nodded and Dean slowly reached out and ran his fingertips lightly down the soft feathers. They shuddered under his touch and he looked back to the angel in time to see his blue eyes sliding closed.

"Alright?" He asked uncertainly, not sure what the reaction meant.

But Cas was already nodding. "Yes...yes, it's fine."

That was a relief because the thought of not being able to touch Cas' wings ever again made him feel a little sick, if he was being honest with himself; he didn't know what he'd have done if his own hands had made the angel feel uncomfortable.

Feeling much better now that he knew his grimy human fingers wouldn't cause the angel any discomfort, Dean stroked over the feathers a little more firmly this time, taking his eyes off Cas' face in favour of watching how the feathers shined, glossy from their earlier grooming, catching the light of the fire.

"They're so soft," he muttered absently, reaching up to hook his fingers over the solid ridge of bone. The feathers were smaller and packed much more densely together and he marveled at how varied the plumage was.

"Dean, stop."

He pulled his hand back immediately, eyes snapping up and roaming over Castiel's face for the source behind the strain in his voice.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, holding his hands up to reassure the other man that they were nowhere near his wings.

Cas still had his eyes shut firmly but his breathing was now laboured and small beads of sweat had appeared just under his hair line like he'd been struggling to keep from saying anything up until then and something cold twisted Dean's insides.

"God, Cas did I hurt you? Why didn't you say anything?"

"You weren't hurting me," the angel replied, his voice trembling with something Dean hoped to god was not pain.

"Then what..." he trailed off when Cas finally opened his eyes and looked up at him.

The angel's pupils were blown, the black eating up all but a sliver of blue, and his cheeks were flushed red and very suddenly Dean realized that Cas wasn't in pain. Quite the opposite, really, he seemed overwhelmed with pleasure.

"We...we have to stop now or..." Cas looked away, the red in his cheeks deepening and Dean found himself biting back a grin.

"Or what, Cas?" He prodded.

"Or I won't be able to stop."

Silence followed the statement as Dean allowed another spike of heat to shoot through him, the angel's words causing all the blood in his brain to rush south.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, his voice rough even to his own ears, and he hoped to whatever gods might be listening that the angel was only trying to hold back under some misguided attempted to shield him from...whatever he thought the hunter couldn't handle.

Castiel searched his face, and then finally said, "No." His voice so deep that the word sounded as if it had rumbled up all the way from his toes.

"Oh good," Dean hooked his hand around the back of the angel's slim neck and tugged him forward to crush their lips together.

Now that all the formalities were out of the way and they were both clear on what the other wanted it was as if a dam had burst between them and all the pent up sexual frustration and carefully hidden emotion just came rushing out all at once. The release of energy was fierce and raw and Dean was delighted to note that Castiel didn't seem all that shy and was giving just as good as he got.

The angel was slightly smaller than him and when their bodies pressed together he seemed to align perfectly with Dean. His long fingers snagged perfectly in his short hair and the small ridges of muscle along his back curved perfectly under Dean's calloused hands.

His hand slid up Cas' muscular thigh, travelling over his own flannel pajama pants, and firmly gripped the angel's hip to haul him into his lap. He felt no small amount of satisfaction when Cas' legs parted to settle either side of him and he pushed his other hand from the dip in his spine upwards towards the base of his wings. When his fingers brushed the tiny down feathers he was shocked to feel that they were slick with -

"Uh, Cas?" He asked, pulling his hand around in front of his face and rubbing the clear, slippery liquid between his fingers.

The angel detached himself from the hunter's neck, but not before he licked a shudder inducing strip up his jawline, the slow drag of his tongue over Dean's skin nearly made him forget about the mysterious substance coating his hand.

When Cas caught sight of his glistening fingers, the corner of his mouth pulled up. "When angels become...aroused, our oil glands have a tendency to," he paused to lean down and nip gently at the hunter's chin, "overproduce."

"Because wing grooming during sex is a thing?" Dean asked, feeling confused as he spread his fingers.

"Our oil glands are not solely for grooming purposes," Cas muttered absently, sounding like he'd very much like to be talking less. "The glands are erogenous zones and – "

That was all Dean needed to hear before he'd snaked his hand back around and was digging his fingers into the base of Cas' wing again. Almost immediately he felt the small bump and pressed down on it firmly.

Castiel cried out instantly and it was a loud, overwhelmed noise that escaped his throat. His wings flared dramatically behind him, knocking Dean's arms away and his hands clamped down on the hunter's shoulders in an iron tight grip.

"Cas?" Dean said, feeling fear grip his lungs and squeeze when the angel went rigid in his lap. "Cas, talk to me, man," his eyes raked over the tense set of his wings, the feathers quivering, and then dropped to his face.

Slowly, his eyes opened and the angel pulled a breath past his teeth.

"You must be gentle, Dean," Cas said, his death grip on Dean's shoulders loosening. He could feel the angel's thighs trembling on either side of his hips but he was honestly scared to touch him again.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Cas," he said, feeling stupid. He knew the angel had never done anything like this before, he should be taking it slow, letting him get used to the new sensations. And despite his colourful sexual history, he could safely say he'd never been with someone who had extra appendages; assuming that touching them was the same as touching any other part of Castiel's body was presumptuous.

He had to keep reminding himself that Cas wasn't human and therefore might not respond to things the way Dean was used to.

Cas was already sucking on his neck again and rolling his hips in tiny circles that pushed most of Dean's worried thoughts right out his ears. The gentle grind was enough to tease but nowhere near enough to give any real satisfaction and he moved his hands back down to the angel's waist, leaving a glistening trail of oil over Cas' skin.

He pushed down on the other man's hips, grinning when Castiel gasped above him when their clothed erections brushed together with a little more force.

"Feels good?" Dean asked coyly, pleased when the angel gave a jerky nod, his full lips open and his breathing deep.

Cas' dark wings had relaxed and every once in a while would flex upwards and then down lazily, a slow beat that stirred the air around them. Dean's eyes roamed over the dark feathers and he resisted the urge to reach out and sink his fingers down to the warm flesh underneath.

"You can touch me, Dean," the angel said suddenly, making him look over to where blue eyes were dancing with humour. "Just be gentle."

Gentle. Right, he could do that.

He reached out and Cas stilled his wings, fanning one out to the side as much as he could in the small cabin, causing the flight feathers to flare out and separate.

"They're so huge," Dean marveled aloud. And they really were, spanning the length of the small room, the tip brushing the dirty wall.

When his fingers brushed across the feathers he took a quick look at the angel's face to make sure everything was alright and found that Cas was looking at where his hand was with a curious look on his face, almost as if he wasn't sure what was going to happen either. He pushed his fingers into the feathers themselves but stilled when the plumage bristled and Castiel gasped.

"Don't...don't stop."

The angel's voice was heavy and rough with arousal and his eyes were hooded with lust so Dean took it as a good sign to go ahead and push a little harder. When his fingertips hit the meaty flesh of Castiel's wing, he watched the angel's face closely.

His lips curled back over his teeth in a brief snarl and his eyes screwed shut – for Cas, that was a lot of expression and the knowledge that Dean had been the one to make him lose control of himself, even for a second, made him wonder how much more he could get his angel to let loose.

He snagged his hand around to the base of Cas' wing and within seconds had found that little raised bump again. This time, he barely let his finger swipe over the top of it and the result was much better.

Cas bucked in his lap, head thrown back, and his wings gave two furious beats before the angel regained control of his senses. Loose papers that Sam had stacked on the end of one of the sofas were raining down around them and, in the silence, the only thing Dean could hear was Cas' heavy breathing and the crackle of the fire.

The angel was mindlessly grinding his hips in firm circles and Dean dropped his gaze down to see a sizable bulge pressing against the front of the angel's pants and he pressed the palm of his hand against it, firmly rubbing through Castiel's violent shudder and then pushing against his shoulder with his other hand until the angel got the idea and laid back on the floor, spreading his wings slightly. Even so, his wings were thick and it made the angel's back arch off the floor in an incredibly enticing way, the dip in his spine not even touching the blankets under him.

Dean felt his mouth watering at the sight, at the way Castiel's legs fell open naturally because his wings were bending his spine and dipping his hips.

The angel's skin was golden in the fire light and Dean couldn't resist reaching out to touch him. The palms of his hands were hot where they rested over Cas' abdomen and he blazed a trail up over the angel's ribs and then lightly touched both nipples at the same time, watching closely as Cas' wings tensed underneath him, pushing his upper body off the floor even more, making the arc of his lower back even sharper and pushing his hips down.

Castiel's body kept rolling on its own when Dean leaned down to swipe his tongue over one of the dusky peaks and a moan punched itself out of Cas' chest.

"Dean...Dean..."

He could feel Cas' body undulating under him, hips rocking up as much was they could, pinned as they were by Dean where he was settled between his legs. Castiel's hands were suddenly on him, one tangled in his hair, the other clenched around his arm, and one of his legs was inching its way up the side of Dean's body, muscular thigh flexing against his ribs as if trying to push him closer.

Dean licked his way over Cas' chest and nibbled at his collar bone until-

"Dean, please!"

"Please, what, angel?" He mumbled against Cas' throat.

"More...more..."

He wondered if Cas even know what it was he needed more of or if he was just overwhelmed under the onslaught of pleasure he seemed to be feeling and Dean took a moment to pull back and make sure things weren't moving too quickly for the virginal angel.

But Cas didn't let him get very far, hooking a hand around the back of his neck and pushing himself up on his elbows to chase after his lips with his own, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed. When Cas' lips pressed, hot and wet, against his it felt desperate and hungry and when Dean tried to pull back to make sure things didn't move too quickly, the angel's hand was like stone around his neck and he felt a spike of arousal at the reminder that Cas might be a virgin but would definitely be able to stop anything he wasn't ready for.

Even so, Dean was nothing if not a gentleman, so he gently stroked his way up the arm Cas had locked around him and slowed the pace of the kissing until Cas pulled away, panting despite the fact that he didn't need to breathe.

"Lay back," he instructed, feeling a strange sense of power when Castiel immediately fell back, feathers puffing up briefly before settling.

Dean kept eye contact with the angel, his expression gentle and open as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of Cas' pants and tugged them down, more than a little surprised and turned on by the fact that there was no underwear underneath.

"You always go commando, Cas?" He asked with a smirk as his eyes roamed over the angel's exposed body.

True to his personality, Cas seemed completely unashamed of his nakedness and didn't so much twitch to cover himself when Dean's gaze lowered to his hard length, curved against his stomach, or when it dropped lower to where the angel's legs were spread, hooked over Dean's thighs, offering a nice view of his tight hole.

When he managed to drag his eyes back up to the angel's face, Castiel was frowning at him.

"What does that mean?"

He chuckled. "It means you don't wear underwear."

"I never understood its purpose, to be hon – ah!"

Dean licked a stripe up the underside of Cas' cock, feeling his own pulse, heavy and swollen and still in the confines of his pants, when the angel's gasp turned into a low whine, head thrown back against the blankets beneath him.

He wrapped his hand around the base of the angel's shaft and then took the head between his lips, clamping his free hand around the angel's hip when he bucked.

It was like a dam had burst and as Dean swallowed Cas down the angel let out a constant stream of moans and sighs and little cries and, even though he couldn't see them in his current position, Dean could hear the angel's feathers rustling and could feel the slight movement of his body when the powerful wings flexed beneath him.

"Dean – nngh – Dean, please!"

When Castiel's grip on his hair became painful, he gently eased off and sat back, grinning when Cas let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a snarl and reluctantly released his grip on the hunter's hair.

It was easy to see that the angel was coming apart at the seams; a thin sheen of sweat had coated his skin and his chest was heaving, wings twitching, hips rolling rhythmically; desperately pushing his cock up into nothing but empty air that dragged a moan of frustration from his full lips while his darkened eyes blinked up at the ceiling in a daze.

"Hey..." Dean muttered, leaning over him and pressing his palm to the side of his angel's face. "Hey, you still with me?"

"Why..." He watched Cas tongue dart out to wet his lips. "Why are you still wearing so many clothes?"

The hunter pressed his face into the crook of Cas' neck, taking a deep breath that filled his head with the angel's clean, earthy scent, before rearing up and pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it over his shoulder. Before it had even landed, Castiel's long fingers, though trembling with need, were clawing the drawstring of his pajama pants and after a few seconds, one strong tug and the string snapped and the angel tossed it away.

Moments later and Dean was pressing down between Cas' legs again and at the last second he ground down, delivering a burst of wonderful friction that had both men throwing their heads back and biting their lips. Cas' hands scrabbled up his arms and one hooked around the back of his neck to pull him down into a fierce kiss that left his lips feeling numb after only a few seconds.

The angel wasn't holding back, to Dean's delight, and the feel of Cas' tongue pushing firmly, insistently into his mouth ignited a trail of fire that burned a path all the way down to his toes.

Heat coiled low in his abdomen, tight like a spring ready to jump, and he snagged an arm around Cas' waist where it was arched off the blankets and immediately felt the warm slick coating the angel's back.

Dean had forgotten about the oil glands at the base of the angel's wings but now a wonderful idea was taking shape in his mind and he looked up at Cas writhing underneath him. The idea was one thing, but he had to make sure Cas was cool with it. He didn't think it would be a problem but he didn't want to break some weird angel custom that would have Cas slapping him across the face or something, so he decided to play it safe and ask.

His pause for thought had taken long enough for Castiel to open his eyes to see what the hold-up was and, when he saw the pensive look on the hunter's face, his own became somewhat guarded.

"The look on your face worries me."

The confession caused a mingled flare of apprehension and amusement and if it was one thing Dean loved about his angel it was that he was so honest. There was no shame and no questions were off limits and it was that, more than anything, that gave Dean the courage to do what he did next.

"Don't worry, I just kind of got an idea, but," he shifted his arm, feeling it slide against the angel's slicked skin, "I wanna make sure it's ok with you before I do anything."

The frown creasing the angel's brow eased and was replaced with something softer, his blue eyed gaze fond. "I doubt there is anything you could suggest to me at this point that I would decline to do."

With those encouraging words, Dean hooked his fingers and drug his nails through the oil coating the angel's back, earning him a shudder, and brought his hand up between them, the shine on his fingers unmistakable.

When two patches of red appeared on Cas' cheeks, he was admittedly a little surprised...and disappointed. He was worried that using Cas' wing oil for something other than grooming might not be received well. He was prepared to tell Cas to stay put for a moment so he could go get some lube from the bedroom he was using, but then the angel made him freeze when he asked -

"Does it bother you?" His tone was even, controlled in a way that told Dean he was purposely keeping the tremor from his voice even though he was still breathing heavy from their activities and his pupils were still blown wide with arousal.

"Bother me?" Echoed Dean, not sure he understood. Then Cas' eyes darted down to his hand and he understood. It wasn't that the angel was worried about how Dean wanted to use the oil but that he thought Dean might be turned off by another reminder of just how far from human Castiel was.

He decided to push his luck a little, because just coming out and asking seemed like it might kill the mood. So, keeping a close eye on Castiel's expression, he leaned forward and pushed his hand under Cas' back and rubbed his fingers gently but firmly against the now heavily swollen oil gland.

When Cas simultaneously cried out and arched his back sharply at the touch, Dean pressed a steadying hand to his chest and tried not to gasp when a gush of warm oil spilled over his fingers.

"Ah-ah!" Castiel was gasping, every muscle in his body taut, hands scrabbling at Dean's arms, legs shaking where they rested against Dean and wings spreading along the floor in jerky movements.

"Dean – nngh – ahh!"

He pulled his hand away from the gland quickly, felt Cas' cock twitch against his abdomen and in that moment he was entirely convinced that he could make the angel come just from touching those glands and nothing else. But that was something to try another time. Right now, Dean needed to make sure the angel was aware of what he was doing. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he wasn't springing anything on the angel that he wasn't ready for or that was considered not at all cool in angel culture, so he leaned forward and gently stroked a finger down the side of Castiel's cheek with his clean hand until his blue eyes opened and his breathing calmed.

"Hey, Cas, look at me, ok?" He said, satisfied when the angel nodded absently but followed the hunter's movement as he backed off.

He made sure Cas was still watching his slick coated hand as he lowered it, watched even closer when he wrapped his hand around the angel's cock.

He seemed fine with it, using his own oil as lube, if the moaning and head tossing was any indication, and within seconds the angel's hips were pushing up into Dean's slick fist in confident thrusts.

For a moment, Dean became mesmerized by just how graceful Castiel was. Even in the disorientation and fog of arousal his movements were fluid; the roll of his hips rhythmic like the waves on an ocean; his breath coming in small huffs from his full lips; wings flaring and trembling in some kind of dance that the hunter was sure would mean something to another angel's eyes, but to him was just another beautiful indication that Cas was lost to the pleasure Dean was giving him.

While he continued to stroke Cas to distraction with one hand, Dean reached under the angel's back with the other and swiped his fingers over the gland again just as he clamped down on the base of his cock.

As expected, the angel gave a violent heave under his ministrations and likely would have come right there and then if it weren't for the hunter's makeshift cock ring preventing him from doing so.

"Dean! Dean! Please!" The angel's voice was desperate, his eyes wild with frustration when his orgasm was denied.

Dean watched him closely, a spike of fire shooting through him and he realized he was getting off on the feeling of power; of having this incredible, powerful being at his mercy. Of giving him things he had never had before. Cas was writhing under his hands, grabbing at him with his own and squeezing his waist with his toned thighs but otherwise not moving to take control of any kind and he wondered if maybe that was the soldier in him; the programmed desire to follow orders.

He decided to address that later and brought his other hand to Cas' cock, swiping his thumb over the head just to hear the angel gasp, and then sliding lower, lower, until the pad of his thumb was pressing against the angel's entrance.

The tight ring of muscle spasmed under the sudden touch and Cas gasped in surprise.

"This ok?" Dean asked, wanting to clarify. He knew how one could get lost in the haze of sensations during sex, especially when it was your first time, and he did not want any doubt of the angel's consent.

Which is why when he did not get an immediate result, he pulled his hand away and said, "Cas?"

Bleary blue eyes peered at him through mere slits and, if he wasn't mistaken, a not often seen look of irritation settled across the angel's pretty face.

"You good?" He repeated.

"Yes, Dean!" Replied the angel, his voice was rough with agitation and it made his name slip out like a curse word. "Touch me! Please."

He pressed a light kiss to the inside of Cas' knee and bent to heed the angel's pleas.

He circled the ring of muscle with his thumb as a warning before applying gentle pressure and, with Castiel's own oil easing his glide, the digit slid into the tight heat easily.

And Cas was already rolling his hips again, partially to dislodge the tight hold Dean had on the base of his cock and partially to push against the digit inside him.

"More," he panted. "Dean, more. Please, please..."

"Shhh..." Dean hushed, reveling in the feeling of the angel's tight heat clamping down on him like he was desperate to be stretched open by his cock.

He pulled his thumb out in a slow drag and them pushed back in, swallowing the mirror of Cas' moan when the angel's hole clenched around the digit and pulled him in.

"Dean."

He heeded the angel, replacing his thumb with two fingers, hissing at how much tighter it was. He watched the muscle clench around his fingers, the rim stretched beautifully.

Suddenly, Cas' hand had joined his, his slender fingers slicked with his own oil and fluttering over where his body was being stretched to accommodate the hunter's fingers. When Dean's eyes darted up, the angel was already staring at him.

"I won't break, Dean." With his other hand, Cas reached out and ran his hand over Dean's chest appreciatively and then snaked it around the back of his neck and up into his hair, where he gripped tight and hauled the hunter's face down to within only a few inches of his own and ground out, "Coat your cock in my oil and fuck me."

The very words nearly made Dean come and he had to bow his head, crushing his lips to his angel's partially to distract himself and partially to make sure Cas didn't surprise him with dirty talk that hot again or this whole thing would be over before it even started.

"You'll be the death of me, Cas," he muttered against the angel's open mouth.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of the other man's full lips and then to his jaw and then his neck, collar bone and chest, all the while pumping his fingers in a out of the angel's hole. When he pushed three fingers in, he felt, for the first time, the angel tense in a manner that suggested something unpleasant, and he stilled his hand, looking up at his lover's face.

Almost as soon as the grimace of pain had formed on his brow, it was smoothed over.

"You ok?" Dean clarified.

Cas looked down to meet his gaze and then rolled his eyes, actually rolled his eyes, before nodding.

"I enjoy having you on top of me Dean but if you don't get on with it I may just have to overpower you and take what I want."

It was a wonderfully harsh reminder that Castiel, angel of the lord was allowing the hunter to pin him to his own nest of blankets and fuck him. The reminder was both humbling and exhilarating.

Dean pulled his hand free and swayed his hips, pushing the angel's legs open wider so that he could sink down, grasp his cock and, after a few strokes to spread the oil from his fingers, guide it to his lover's entrance, pushing gently but firmly against the ring of muscle.

The angel gasped, a desperate sound that clawed its way out of his throat when the head of Dean's cock breached the loosened muscles and the sound of it knocked something loose in the pit of Dean's stomach and he drove forward in one smooth, hard, thrust; any concern that he had over it being too much for the angel was drowned in the sound of his cries of pleasure and the lock of ankles behind his back, pressing against his ass and urging him deeper.

After that his hips seemed to set their own rhythm, pumping in and out of the angel's willing body, the drag of heat against his swollen cock almost too much to bear even in the first few strokes.

Through the haze of his own pleasure, Dean managed to pull his face from where it was buried in the angel's neck and, when he looked up, his hips shuddered to a halt, cock buried to the hilt as he stared.

Cas' head was thrown back, eyes wide and mouth gaping and, where there should have been blue irises and a pink tongue was bright white light. He was losing control. Dean was overloading him with such pleasure that the angel within the body under him was breaking free. His eyes darted to the lush wings fanned out across the floor to either side; there was light under each feather, as if even the manifestation of Castiel's grace could not contain itself.

His hips stuttered forward, pushing deeper into Cas' body, mind hazy – intoxicated – with the power he held over this beautiful creature. The smell of earth and burning fire and clean sea air filled his senses -

"Please...more...more..."

Dean buried his face into Cas' neck again, sure that just looking at the anguished look of pleasure on his face would push him over the edge and instead hooked one arm around the angel's waist, biting down on his nape as the easy slide of slick made him thrust harder; his other arm grappled around the angel's shoulders, tugging him closer, pressing their chests flush.

He bit at the side of Cas' neck, pulse jumping under his teeth.

His thrusts became erratic, the heat was coiling in his belly and Cas fingers were digging into his skin and suddenly he was the one on his back. Cas had flipped them and before the hunter's brain had even registered the switch the angel was impaling himself on his cock with shallow rolls of his hips.

Cas seemed to tower over him; his wings were flared in dark arches to either side of his body, slivers of white light under each feather; face turned upward, mouth open and eyes wide and bursting with the blinding power of his true self.

"Dean..."

The hunter's rhythm faltered when his name boomed from Cas like a clap of thunder, but a sudden spastic clench of the angel's hot, silky walls around his cock had his eyes rolling back in his head and his brain turning to mush and through the mind numbing build of pressure in his abdomen, he realized the clench around him for what it was.

Cas was close. He gripped the angel's cock in one hand and his hip in the other and thrust upward at a slightly different angle, knowing he hit the right spot when a resonating cry ripped itself from the angel's throat and the glass in the windows rattled violently.

His own orgasm was coiling tighter and tighter, his thrusts up and Cas' pushes down were starting to break their rhythm and he knew Cas was just at the edge.

He let go of the angel's slim hip with one hand and snaked it up to a flared wing just as it flexed in a powerful downbeat, forcing his fingers deep into the feathers. He hooked his fingers quickly, dragging the tips down the inside of the wing and then Cas was coming with a wail.

He drove up one more time, buried to the hilt when the angel clamped down around him, and could feel himself spill deep inside, pushed up harder, went deeper and then a sudden flare of blinding white light had him reflexively scrunching his eyes shut.

He heard Cas cry out again, the sound of it seeming to reverberate inside his skull like a gong, and glass was shattering somewhere off to his right and then there was the unmistakable pop of a light-bulb bursting and then it was quiet.

When he opened his eyes, Cas' were closed, mouth open as he panted for air, wings lax and hanging at his sides, twitching every so often with aftershock.

It was then that Dean realized the faint pain he felt in his chest was Cas' hands, nails digging in to his skin where he'd clamped down to leverage himself and the hunter pried them loose with a slight wince.

"You ok?" He asked, the raspy sound of his own voice a clear indicator that he'd made his fair share of noise.

The angel's eyes finally opened, their normal stormy blue once again, and the corner of his full lips twisted up in a half smile.

"I'm sorry...I lost control."

Feeling more than a little amused that Cas thought that that was anything less than the best sex the hunter had ever had, Dean slid an arm around the angel's waist when he wavered and rolled them onto their sides, his softening cock still buried deep.

"That's what I was trying to make you do, angel," he nosed affectionately into Cas' neck and rubbed a hand over the leg hooked on his hip until Cas rumbled a sleepy chuckle.

With a gentle hand on Cas' thigh, Dean pushed his knee outward and pulled out of the angel's body. He ignored Cas' grumbles as he stood to get a wash cloth from the bathroom to clean them up and was back in seconds, coaxing the angel to roll onto his back so that he could wipe the cum off his skin.

As he dragged the damp cloth down Cas' chest, Dean felt himself admiring, again, the way the angel's wings made his back arch off the blankets. Tanned skin stretched lightly over his rib cage, hips canted downward to counterbalance; dark feathers still now, and glossy in the light of the dying fire.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He said, tossing the cloth to his right somewhere.

He wasn't usually one to say such things, but if it meant it would make Cas blush like that, then he could get used to it.

After throwing another log on the fire, and flicking the light switch a few times to make sure that, yes, they were still without power, Dean was snugly wrapped in both blankets and feathers back in front of the fire place. They'd had to move a bit further back than Cas had wanted, but after a brief lesson on what heat stroke did to a person, he'd consented.

And true to his brother's track record, it was just when the sound of rain through the blown out window and the soft warmth of Castiel's wing draped over him that Sam chose that moment to barge through the door with an armload of groceries.

"Oh my G-"

To his credit, Sam had managed to stop himself from blaspheming in front of an angel, but if Cas' still blissed out, sleepy, expression and lazy wing flick was any indication, he probably wouldn't have cared anyway.

The few bags of food had slipped from Sam's slack fingers when he spotted the two of them in Cas' mound of blankets by the fire, staring with an equally slack jaw. It might have even been funny, if Dean hadn't been so close to falling asleep.

"Take a picture, Sammy, it lasts longer," he grumbled snidely, feeling Cas press a soothing kiss to the back of his neck.

After several long seconds of his idiot brother opening and closing his mouth a few times, Sam finally seemed to regain control of his vocal chords and all but shrieked.

"You two were supposed to talk things out, not fuck things out!"

Dean wondered if the little jerky movements from Cas against his back might just be laughter.

"We did talk it out," he told his brother, "Then we fucked it out just to be sure. You know I like to be thorough."

The wounded buffalo noise that his brother made was like a soothing balm to his irritation; that is until Sam started bitching about the broken window and shattered lamp. Finally he left them alone, bags of food still sitting on the kitchen floor as he stomped off to whatever room he was using, muttering about angel/human sex ground rules.

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As always, I love review and am looking for constructive criticism on how I can improve my writing!