As the vocals ended Castiel opened his eyes and saw Dean, on his knees, shaking with tears in his eyes. The time for cool confidence had passed, and Castiel could no longer stay away from his human. He darted forward, great wings spread behind, and skidded across the cold, wet grass on his knees. Once he reached Dean he took both his hands in his own, fingers intertwining at their sides. Castiel leaned in and touched his forehead to Dean's as his great wings reached out and around, surrounding and shielding the two of them from the world outside. As Castiel's light pulsed within the protective cocoon of his wings, Dean's eyes swam with the kaleidoscopic, varicolored shimmer that radiated out from every feather.
"Ca-Cas," Dean stammered, eyes wet and wanting, "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Dean," whispered Castiel, closing his fiery eyes, basking in the radiant relief and desire that filled the spaces between their bodies. "Neither of us is perfect."
"And that is okay," they murmured in unison.
They kneeled there for a time, hands clasped together, sharing each other's warmth and breath. It could have been seconds, days, an eternity. It was as if time ceased being counted in minutes, but instead in heartbeats and intentions and the flickering of eyelashes. Every so often a breeze would ruffle Castiel's wings and the feathers would tickle the sides of Dean's arms, sending tiny static shocks of pleasure coursing through his nervous system, and every time it happened Castiel could not help but smile. I am doing that, he thought with pride. My wings. My touch.
They kneeled there amidst the dancing rainbow light until Dean's eyes had dried and their breaths came in and out as one. It was Dean who spoke first.
"Angel," he said softly, "I want you to stand. I want to look at you, the real you."
"As you wish, Dean," purred Castiel, soft lips curling into a seraphic smile that Dean knew was for him and him alone.
They helped each other to standing, and then in one graceful movement Castiel opened his wings and stepped back, letting the cold night air crash into Dean. Dean shivered in his bare feet and t-shirt, but quickly forgot about the cold when he saw his angel stand before him. Magnificent did not even come close to describing Castiel. The angel's ethereal light had faded somewhat but still pulsed just beneath the surface. His eyes glowed softly in the darkness, and the moonlight on his wings made each feather shimmer and dazzle. He felt small, insignificant, pale in comparison. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve him, and yet he was chosen all the same.
Castiel beheld Dean, the long, lean lines of his body gliding and flexing under his t-shirt, his green eyes twinkling with wonder. Dean, who had fought through Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory and come out on the other side. The man who had dedicated his life to helping those in need, to eradicating evil in all of its forms. The man who valued humanity above all else, and who never gave up on those he loved. Castiel did not deserve this, did not deserve him, and yet he was chosen all the same.
Dean was overtaken by relief and glee, and suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted to say. "Cas," he called out, biting his lip, voice impish, "so, um, are you NOT my blowing wind?" With that, a huge grin stretched across Dean's face. His nose crinkled and he erupted in laughter, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Castiel's glow died down and he folded his wings behind him. Dean looked up and saw the fire in his angel's eyes ignite, a deliberate, resolute look on his face. He strode toward Dean with intent and grace as Dean stood up, feet frozen in place by Castiel's gaze. Castiel reached around Dean's waist with his right hand, and while cradling the base of Dean's neck with his left he swung his human around and down into a perfect dip.
His glow reappeared as he leaned his face down toward Dean's and said in a low voice husky with desire, "I am the lightning."
With that, he kissed Dean hard, passionately. He opened his mouth and pulled Dean into him, deepening the kiss. Their bodies hissed with exquisite static that roiled through their bodies, reprogramming every nerve cell with a new way to feel. Dean held on for dear life, clinging to his angel, moaning softly into his mouth. It was warm, and rough, and electric. It was perfect.
"WOOOOOHOOOOO!" shouted Sam from the roof of the bunker as he jumped up and down and clapped emphatically.
Without breaking away, and perhaps even kissing more passionately, Dean raised the middle finger of his left hand up toward the bunker roof, and Sam smiled all the wider.