"I think I like pie," Castiel stated, breathless and gravelly. He was prone on his back on the floor next to the map table, completely nude except for his tie, covered in the sticky leavings of a half dozen pies splattered across his body like a Jackson Pollock food fight. Strewn around him on the ground were empty and partially empty pie tins, articles of clothing, a toppled chair, and the remnants of pie that made it out of tins but not into or onto either Dean or Castiel. It looked like a bakery had an orgasm.
"Cas," Dean languidly called from above on the table where he still laid, "I think I'm going to get a boner every time I eat pie from now until the day I die."
Castiel replied thoughtfully from the floor, "that sounds… inconvenient."
"Worth it," was Dean's contented reply.
"I do not think I can get up, Dean," Castiel murmured dreamily. He heard Dean give a groan, and saw his feet drop off the table and pad toward him, stepping gingerly over and around the pastry carnage. His human kneeled down next to him and Castiel was too blissed out to stifle his giggle. Dean's face was smeared with pink and purple, his chest with yellow and orange. Little bits of crust stuck to him here and there, and there were blueberries matted in his hair.
"What's so funny, pal?" asked Dean in mock indignation, knowing full well what was funny. "You should see yourself!"
"Come down here with me," hummed the angel. Dean complied, lowering himself to the sticky floor to lay on his side, head on the angel's chest, arm and leg draped over protectively. Dean's hot breath combined with the cool skin of his cheek caused him to shiver.
"Cas, what the hell happened?" Dean wondered aloud.
"I am still not sure. The last 24 hours have been very... confusing," replied Castiel in a low voice.
"Well sure," said Dean in a playful, matter-of-fact tone. "You sneak into my dreams, then confess your love for me to my brother, you fucking vaporize my inner demons and I see you in all your dream-angel glory… oh yeah-"
"Dean," Castiel interrupted, "Do-"
"Oh angel, I'm just getting started." He slid his hand down his lover's tie. "Then there's the part where I'm an asshole and you disappear, and rather than leaving my sorry ass to suffer alone you show up with 20 pies and a friggin' love ballad. Then we get all wing kinky and astral project and then you explode angel fire all over the place and then we fuck on a table covered in pie." Dean chuckled and then paused. "Let's just say, I feel your confusion."
Castiel did not reply for a moment. "Dean..." he started but trailed off, voice tinged with sadness.
Dean let go of the tie and pushed himself up with his hands to look at his angel's face. He could see his eyes, moist and distant, trying to avoid Dean's gaze.
"Hey, hey," Dean tried to soothe, "Angel, talk to me."
Castiel met Dean's eyes, finally, and bit his lower lip. He inhaled deeply through his nose before speaking. "I am confused and afraid and I do not know what is happening to me. I am here with you, and happily so. I am sharing new experiences with you and I can think of no one with whom I would rather do so. But the facts are what they are." He cleared his throat. "I should not be able to manifest my wings on this plane. You should not be able to touch them. I should not be able to taste food. I should not be able to… have an orgasm. All of these things should not be possible, but now suddenly they are. If I cannot control these aspects of myself, I may be a danger to those around me. I do not want to hurt Sam, or you, or-"
Dean lowered himself down and stopped Castiel's mouth with a kiss, soft and deep. Dean began to pull away but then Castiel leaned upward into Dean and reciprocated the kiss, deepening it. Dean could feel Castiel's hot tears tickle his cheeks, causing something inside of him to flare up as well. Dean began to weep tears of adoration and gratitude for his beautiful friend, his angel who, upon experiencing all these powerful new sensations, thought first and foremost about Dean's safety and well being. Dean slid his arms around Castiel's neck and back and opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to explore one another, soothe one another. They could taste the salt of one another's tears mingling with traces of fruit and sugar.
Castiel lost himself in the scent and taste of Dean, of gunpowder and sweat and holy oil. He let himself be held, embraced by Dean's strong arms. Waves of gratitude washed over him. He could feel his heart lifting, his tears drying. He closed his eyes and centered himself. Be present for this , he thought. Appreciate this. Appreciate him.
Dean opened his eyes and noticed a dim glow beginning to emanate from Castiel's torso. He renewed his kissing, deeper, needier. The glow grew brighter. Dean broke away in a gasp and pressed his cheek to Castiel's. "Angel," he sighed, "you're perfect."
Castiel's eyes fluttered open and he saw his own illumination. "Oh no, no no…" he muttered breathlessly, anxiously. His glow began to dim.
"Shhh, shhh," soothed Dean into his ear, "Angel, this is just you being you. You being happy. All this confusion? All your fears? You are just not used to feeling loved."
With that, Castiel shivered in his human's arms. Dean laid him gently back down to the floor. "Cas," he said gruffly, "angels were made to worship God and love humanity, never expecting anything in return. You're designed to be a soldier, a servant. A tool." Dean sniffed, and then smiled. "No one was made to love you back, so no one could anticipate what would happen when somebody finally did." Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel sweetly on the forehead while placing a hand over his angel's heart where the luminescence was brightest. "I love you, Angel," he whispered.
With that, Dean laid back down and curled up next the Castiel, leaving his hand on his angel's heart. Castiel covered Dean's hand with his own, and smiled gratefully as they both basked in his warm and radiant glow.