Fic: Welcome Echoes (Supernatural; Dean/Castiel, Wingfic, Explicit)
Fic Title: Welcome Echoes
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supenatual
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5600
Spoilers: Set Set in some vague, post-canon time where Cas is human for good and everyone is happy (but still hunting!)
A/N: Written for deancas_xmas for paxdracona. Prompt: former angel Cas gets hit with a rather cruel curse; he grows an impressive set of wings which have absolutely nothing to do with him becoming an angel again: he's still fully human. He is parts happy (in a nostalgic way) for their weight and such, but mostly he is bitter because the wings are beautiful but useless (can't fly and such) and cumbersome (they can't be hidden). Meanwhile, Dean discovers a kink he didn't know he had while trying to make his boyfriend feel better.
Summary: Dean supposed it was only a matter of time before Cas wound up on the wrong end of a witch's hex.
*
Sometimes Dean sat back and thought about all the various things that had tried to kill him over the past thirty-plus years. Wendigo. Wraiths. Ghosts of every kind and description. Werewolves and vampires both, absolutely ruining late night schlock horror movies for him. Shifters. Leviathan. Demons. Angels. Hell, archangels. The actual, literal Satan himself had tried to turn his face into lunch meat in a cemetery outside his own hometown. Most hunters would have taken that as a sign it was time to retire, nothing more to see here, like a baseball player breaking a record and realizing it was all downhill from there. (Not that hunters ever retired really, but sometimes at night when his back ached too much to sleep it was fun to think of all the weird records he'd set that no other hunter would ever break, the lucky bastards.)
Still, even with all the monsters howling for his blood over the years like the universe had taken a D&D monster manual and decided to throw it up all over his life, Dean managed to hold a special hatred in his heart for witches.
It was the same every time. Every time they decided to go on a witch hunt the plan always managed to turn to the weirdest possible shit.
And God help them (but not really, because that would just make everything worse), Cas being on the team full time now just served to crank the weird all the way past eleven. “Cas? You okay back there?” He adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better look, hissing out a breath between his teeth. “Shit, they're bigger.”
“I noticed.” Cas' voice was clipped, his nails digging grooves into the leather of the Impala's back seat. Dean was about to ask Cas how he felt again when Cas groaned, burying his face into the seat as his whole body tensed. The back of his shirt was spattered with blood, more than the last time Dean had looked, little rivulets of it dripping down to the leather.
Dean shot a glance to Sam sitting shotgun beside him, but the only answer he got was a baffled shrug. “Let's just get back to the motel,” Sam said, sending a glance back Cas' way that was full of every inch of the panic Dean wouldn't let himself feel right now. “We'll...I dunno, we'll sort this out once we get there.” Cas moaned again, another wave of pain wracking him and Sam snaked an arm back to squeeze one of Cas' hands tight.
Dean wished he could do the same but driving was the only thing keeping him from shaking apart. He could still see that witch every time he closed his eyes, blonde hair blowing around her despite there being no wind. She'd had one hand extended toward him, red and black energy circling her fingertips as she'd chanted and suddenly Cas had been right there, knocking Dean out of the way and taking the hex full in the chest. The way Cas had screamed when he'd hit the ground still rattled around in Dean's skull. “The hell did you shove me out of the way for?” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“You would have died.”
Dean hadn't expected Cas to hear him. He glanced back up at him through the mirror, noting that Cas was pale and shaky and just this side of going into shock and refused to think about what it might mean that Cas had taken the hit instead. It wasn't like there weren't plenty of other things to worry about right then.
Like how even though Cas hadn't been an angel for a long damn time that witch's hex had made him grow wings.
***
When Dean pulled into the motel lot he and Sam looked at each other, looked back at Cas and realized they had a problem. “We can't march him through the front,” Sam said, his voice low and Dean had no choice but to agree. The wings were still growing but Dean guessed the span was already over six feet, not something they could expect the front desk guy to overlook, even a front desk guy in a place like this. “I'll pull around the back,” Dean said, turning the engine back over and pulling onto the dirt road that snaked around the building. “There's a service entrance, we can get to the rooms from there.” He wished it was night instead of midday but there was nothing to do about that; hiding in the car or driving around until sundown just wasn't an option.
Dean slid into the back seat next to Cas as Sam went to work on the lock. “Hey,” he said, keeping one eye on the road just in case anyone had seen them and decided to get curious. “How're you feeling?”
Cas groaned but it sounded more annoyed than pained. He pushed himself up on his elbows, shaking his head. “A little better,” he said. “The pain's not...not as bad as it had been at the beginning.”
Dean stroked his fingers through Cas' hair, slowly easing him back down until he was draped over Dean's lap. “We've all gotten zapped by witches, Cas. Guess it's only fair you get a turn too.”
Cas let out a scoffing little grunt that made it very clear he didn't agree. He rolled his shoulders, wincing a little but no show of pain beyond that. “I can feel my bones growing,” he said, shifting around like he couldn't find a comfortable position. “It's very strange.”
Dean brushed just his fingertips against the edge of one of the wings, not able to resist, but jerked his hand back when Cas hissed and flicked the wing away. “Didn't know you could move those things.”
“Neither did I,” Cas said, looking up over his shoulder. “That was interesting.”
Before he could say anything else another growth spurt hit him; Cas pressed his face against Dean's leg, his hands tight fists. All Dean could do was rub his neck to help him push through it, watching in stomach-churning amazement as the wings put on what he guessed had to be another full foot each. “Shhh,” Dean said, “Easy.”
“I wish that would stop,” he said, groaning as the growth spurt finished shaking its way through him.
“Me and Sam'll track the witch down tonight. That should stop it.” Cas nodded and Dean got the sense it was more to humor Dean than to agree. “How do you feel, wings aside?” Cas looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard, and Dean said, “I mean, you think the hex did anything else weird?”
Cas lay back against Dean's lap. “Stop worrying about that, Dean.”
Before Dean could ask what that meant he heard Sam call out, “Got the lock!” He watched Sam circle around to the back of the car and pop the trunk. He turned his attention back to Cas, rolling down the window when he heard Sam's boots crunching on the gravel along the dirt path. “Here,” Sam said, shoving the old blanket they kept in the trunk through the open window. “Wrap this around him, just in case anyone does see.”
Dean nodded and grabbed the blanket, opening the door and easing himself out as he did his best to wrap Cas up. “C'mon,” he said, half pulling Cas out of the car when Cas clearly was having second thoughts about moving. “On your feet.”
The blanket wasn't a perfect cover - the wings poked out from the bottom and Cas winced when it touched him, like the wings were raw - but as long as they moved fast Dean thought it would work. It took Cas a second to find his balance, almost pitching backwards once he was finally upright. Dean wrapped one arm around his waist and walked him forward, looking around as Sam held the heavy back door open.
For the first time all day luck was with them. No one poked a head out as the three of them crept down the dingy hallway and they got the door to Dean and Cas' room open without incident. Cas wasted no time flopping face down on the bed, letting out a relieved groan as he stretched out. “I'm gonna look through the books we found the other day, see if there's anything that even looks like this,” Sam said.
“Thanks.” Dean ruffled one hand through Cas' hair. He knew the sound of his brother giving him an out when he heard it. “You need any help, just shout.”
“Pretty sure I can handle it. Same goes for you two, though. I'm right across the hall.”
Dean nodded, his attention now back on Cas. Sam left to bury himself in witch lore, the door clicking shut behind him but Dean barely heard; he was watching Cas' breathing, keeping an eye on his color. Cas wasn't as pale as he'd been in the back of the car and the shaking was nowhere near as bad. Dean thought the risk of shock was over, at least. He supposed he should thank Heaven for small favors.
He dug a pair of sharp scissors out of his bag and sat back down on the bed, massaging one hand into the small of Cas' back when he startled. “Easy, buddy, easy. Just me.”
“Huh. I think I nodded off for a second.”
Dean grinned to himself. Cas never really had gotten the hang of sleeping, like it still managed to surprise him. “That's good. I'm guessing that means it's not hurting as much.”
Cas nodded. “Not as much, no.” He shifted on the bed again. “They're getting heavy.”
Dean reached out for one of the wings again, keeping his touch very light, and this time Cas didn't shy away. “You feel that?” Cas nodded again, stretching out as if he wanted to take up the entire bed. Dean traced one finger around the edge of a feather; when the wings had first erupted they'd been as black as the shadow wings Dean had first seen in that barn in Illinois.
That had changed as the wings had grown, Dean saw now. The short feathers near the top of the wings were still dark but the long pin feathers had come in as a dazzling ivory, the rounded tips keeping that deep shadow black. Dean traced his fingers down the blood streaks marring that white, noting that it had started to dry. “At least it looks like you stopped bleeding,” he said, easing himself next to Cas and picking up the scissors to start cutting off Cas' shirt. There was no saving the shirt anyway, the wings had torn jagged holes through the back of the shirt and it was held together by threads. Cas sighed as Dean cut the last of it off and from the way the shirt had been twisted around the wings Dean could only imagine what a relief it must be to have all that off.
Dean winced when he saw the raw and inflamed skin circling the base of the wings, cracked and peeling like the worst kind of sunburn. That would hurt like hell even without giant wings pushing their way through; Dean could see the border where the normal skin gave way to the wing base was scabbed over and winced again. “Don't get how you weren't screaming the whole time.”
“Keep doing that. That feels nice.”
Dean hadn't even realized he'd started rubbing Cas' back between the new wings, but now that Cas had said that he certainly wasn't going to stop. As he felt Cas start to really relax he took in the streaks of drying blood on his back and marring the white on his wings. “I'm gonna clean you up, okay?” he said, waiting for Cas to nod before moving.
It took a few minutes of poking around to find the ice bucket and scrub it enough for it to be somewhere close to clean, but at least the water in the motel was warm enough. Dean grabbed a washcloth and the bucket and sat back down on the bed, very carefully washing the blood from Cas' back.
The wings were going to take a little more caution. Cas shivered when Dean just touched him and he cringed away when he felt the water. “Too hot,” he said, pressing his face into pillows. “That's too hot.”
The water really wasn't all that warm but Dean put it aside, going back to rubbing Cas' back until the water was barely lukewarm. This time when he tried to wash the blood out of the wings Cas murmured something Dean couldn't make out but he didn't cringe away. “Better?”
“Mrmm.”
Dean grinned. “Good.”
“You think this is permanent.”
“Huh? Why'd you say that?”
Cas shrugged, only wincing a little. “You wouldn't be taking such care with them if you thought otherwise.”
Dean sighed, sitting back on his heels. “I don't know what I think, Cas. This is a new kind of weird for us and witch hexes are hard to judge. Sometimes their stuff fizzles when they get ganked but lots of times they don't.” Dean went back to doing his best on the wings. “You hoping they're permanent?”
Cas let out a dismissive little snort. “I would feel better if I could know whether the witch was being particularly cruel or just incompetent.”
“Incompetent I get, but why cruel? Trust me, I've been hexed by more than my share of witches and wings aren't such a bad side effect, even if they did hurt at first.”
Dean saw that half smile on Cas' face, the old one he rarely saw anymore. “Dean, if your legs had been severed and a witch hexed you new ones, only they were wooden pegs instead of real and whole, would you see that as a blessing or an insult?”
Dean was saved from coming up with an answer for that by a knock on the door. “Um,” he heard Sam say. “Everyone decent in there?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah Sam, it's safe.” Sam opened the door, peeking his head in like he didn't believe Dean. Just because that had happened one time. “I think I have a lead on the witch. Something weird popped up on the police scanner and it's not that far away.”
Cas waved Dean way before he could say a word. “Go,” Cas said. “The ritual has to be stopped.”
Dean ruffled his hair again before getting up, crouching at the side of the bed to kiss him on the lips before strapping on his gun. “No getting in trouble without us, okay?”
This time it was much closer to a real smile. “I get into more than enough with you, I don't need to seek out more.”
“Yeah, never stopped you before.”
Cas shoved him away for that, closing his eyes as Dean took care of the rest of the job prep.
Dean wondered if it was just his imagination that the wings looked bigger.
***
It took three tries to get Cas to answer his damn phone. “Dean?” he said, sounding both tired and cranky. For someone who always went on about how he wasn't designed to sleep Cas was always the biggest pain when someone woke him up. “What's wrong? Did you lose the witch?”
Dean glanced over at Sam wrapping the body up in a tarp so they could hide it long enough to get out of town. “Well, guess that answers my question then.”
“Oh.” Cas could be very quick on the uptake when he wanted to be. “So I take it you dealt with her.”
“Yeah, her and her whole creepy little coven family. Place is isolated enough that no one came out to check on things, so at least we don't have to run out of town right away.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “I take it the wings are still there.”
“Yes.” He heard Cas shifting around, like he was sitting up on the bed. He was surprised that Cas didn't sound anywhere near as disappointed as Dean would have expected. It actually bugged Dean a little, although he wasn't about to say that. “Are you and Sam on your way back?”
“Yeah, gonna clean up a little here and head over. Plan to leave come morning. How're the wings feeling? They still growing?”
“I think they're at full length now. I'm just not used to the extra weight or very coordinated with them.” Dean heard a little hitch in his voice. “We may want to leave quietly. I tied to take a shower and that was a...mistake. I may have broken some of the fixtures. And the mirror.”
“Not the first motel room we've left trashed. Keep a low profile, we're on our way back.
***
When Dean got back to the room the overhead lights were off, just the lamp left on the tiny corner desk letting him see. Cas was stretched out on the bed like he hadn't moved since Dean had left him, but he startled up when Dean opened the door. “Oh, good,” he said when he recognized Dean. “I thought you were housekeeping again, I've had to hide twice.”
Dean barely heard the words. He didn't even remember to close the door behind him, all he could do was stare at Cas. The wings had grown since he'd been gone; Dean guessed they would span at least fifteen feet if Cas stretched them out, maybe even twenty. The color had set, a soft fringe of shadow black along the top giving way to long ivory feathers, each one tipped again with black, the dim light making them look like they dissolved away into nothingness. The white feathers gleamed, almost to the point it hurt Dean to look at him. “Dean?” Cas finally said, breaking Dean out of the spell. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at Dean with that long familiar head tilt. The movement made the right wing curve over his shoulder, like Cas was framed by it, and Dean could not make his mind work when Cas was looking at him like that. “You should close the door.”
“Oh. Right.” Dean managed to fumble the door locked as Cas stretched back out on the bed. Dean got the definite feeling Cas knew he was staring and didn't mind it in the least. “Surprised the housekeeping in this place even bothered.”
“Yes, they've been unexpectedly diligent. We should remember to tip.” Cas' brows drew together. “What are you carrying?”
Dean had entirely forgotten the bag in his hand. “Later,” he said, setting it down by the side of the bed before sitting next to Cas, running one hand down his spine. The inflammation had cleared up, the bases of the wings now circled by healthy pink skin. “How're you holding up?”
“Better now. Once they reached full length the pain stopped, now it just feels...I don't know. Odd. And my balance is terrible.”
“Yeah, that's probably gonna take some getting used to.” Cas stretched the wings out and that was...that was a hell of a thing to see. “Sam's gonna look up some lore to see if we can figure a way to undo the hex, since taking out the witch didn't do it. And if nothing turns up, there's other options. Surgical ones, if it comes to that.” Cas gave him a wide-eyed look at that idea, his whole body going tense. “Or not. We're not going to make you do anything, Cas, you know that.” Cas turned away, spots of pink in his cheeks like he'd been embarrassed by that reaction. Dean kept rubbing his back until he felt Cas start to relax, the wings going from tight against his back to loose curves over his shoulders. “You do know that, right?”
“Of course,” he said, fidgeting in a way that made Dean wonder if he really believed it. “It's just...I realize how inconvenient this is going to be.”
Dean traced the line of his shoulder blade for a second, then reached down to the side of the bed. “Scoot over. Got something for you.” Cas shifted himself over to the center of the bed, his brow creased with unspoken questions that Dean didn't answer until he eased himself on top of Cas, straddling over his hips. “Picked up some massage stuff,” he said, opening one of the little tubes and spreading the oil on Cas' back. “Figured you could use that right about now.”
“Mm,” Cas said, easing into the touch like a happy cat. “You are very good at that.”
“One of my many talents.” It didn't take very long at all to see what a good call this had been; Cas' back was a tight knot of muscle that had to feel like one solid ache. Dean started up by the curve of his neck and started to work his way down. “Sounds like you changed your mind on the wings.”
“I...perhaps. Go a little lower.” He let out a contented little sigh when Dean hit the desired spot, although his brows were still furrowed together.
“Just saying. You acted like they were an insult before. That whole thing about peg legs, y'know.”
“I know I did,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “I was angry. It had taken a long time to come to terms with...you know.” Dean felt his stomach twist at the yearning in Cas' voice; they rarely talked about Cas' angel days anymore. “I'd felt insulted. But as time passed it didn't seem so bad.” Dean caught ghost of a smile on his face. “I suppose an inferior replacement is better than total absence,” he said, looking up at one outstretched wing. “I hadn't realized how much I'd missed having them.”
Dean quieted the worry gnawing at him for a while, focusing on working his way down Cas' back and feeling Cas go limp and relaxed under his hands. “You'd said the hex would have killed me,” he finally said. “How'd you know that?”
“Because I understood what she was saying,” Cas said, craning his neck to look at Dean. “The spell was in an old demonic language, one commonly used for rituals although she must have learned the it by rote, her pronunciation was terrible. The chant was one of revision, usually used as a type of banishment among demons to send the offending one back to where they'd been formed.”
That made...actually less sense than these things usually did. “I don't get it. What would that have done to me?”
“You've spent more time dead and in hell than you have alive. The spell is designed to banish demons back to the part of Hell where they'd existed the longest.”
“So...because I'd spent more time dead than alive, that's why it would have killed me?”
“Or ripped your soul out of your body and sent it back to the Pit. Neither option seemed very promising. Not that I think she knew the spell would have that effect, she may well have been just trying to make us go away.” Cas' hands clenched tight into the pillow as Dean worked on his lower back. “Keep doing that.”
“You got it.” Dean liked watching Cas' wings move in reaction to his touch, little twitches when he hit a sensitive spot. “Thanks for...y'know. Not letting me go back to hell.”
“It would be much more difficult to get you out this time,” Cas said, resting his head on his folded arms. He let Dean work him over for a few more minutes, then he closed his eyes. “Say what's worrying you.”
Dean wasn't sure how to say it himself. “You were an angel a whole hell of a lot longer than I spent in hell, Cas. Was a part of you hoping that hex would kick you back upstairs?”
“Dean.” Cas turned himself over, staring at Dean with those blue eyes that were every bit as intense as that first night in that far off barn. Then he sat up and kissed Dean, forcing Dean back on his heels. Dean shifted them both over so Cas was propped against the headboard as he took the kiss deep; he could feel the wings circle around him as Cas teased his lips open. When Cas finally pulled back he was flushed and breathing hard and it took everything Dean had not to just kiss him again. “Dean, if that choice was offered to me I would not take it.” Cas' hands were tight in his hair, like he wanted to make sure Dean met his eyes. “Do you believe me?”
“It's just...y'know, you've been human or close to it before, and....”
“That was before. Now is all I'm concerned with. ” He kissed Dean again, drawing it out to be slow and lingering. “I'm where and what I want to be, Dean. Promise me you will never doubt that again.” Dean could only nod. “Good.” Cas leaned back against the headboard. “Although I'll admit there are some things about being an angel that I'd apparently missed more than I'd realized.”
“Like having wings.”
“Yes. Like having wings.”
“Turn back over,” Dean said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd expected. “You didn't let me finish.”
Cas turned back onto his stomach, an indulgent grin on his face like he was doing Dean a favor. He sighed when Dean straddled back over him, Dean's thumbs massaging back along his spine. “You can...you can touch them. If you want to.”
Dean didn't need any more invitation. “I wasn't avoiding it because I didn't want to,” he said, tracing along the wings' bases. “They were pretty sensitive before, I didn't want to hurt you.”
“I'm hoping they still are,” Cas said, his voice already hazy.
Dean got to work. The skin color underneath the feathers changed from the new pink skin circling the bases to a deep black, textured like the skin on Cas' palms. Every bit as sensitive too; Cas moaned as Dean made his slow inventory even though Dean was very careful not to apply too much pressure. He could feel the powerful muscles in the bases move under his fingers whenever the wings twitched, and he could feel Cas' pulse beating strong and rapid.
The feathers started off short and downy at the base and along the sweep of muscle and bone that gave the wings their shape, growing in black to give the wings a shadowy outline. Dean traced along the first joint, grinning when Cas shied away like it tickled. “They grew in nice, give the witch credit for that. Shame you can't fly on them, though.”
“I know,” Cas said, sounding mournful. “I tried.”
“Did you?” Dean wished he'd been around to see that. “Did you try going out the window? We're not that high up.”
“That turned out to be for the best.”
“You're lucky no one saw you.” Cas was blushing fire engine red and Dean decided to have some mercy. He stroked one hand down the length of the left wing, noting all the ruffled and out of place feathers. “Man, you're a mess,” he said, smoothing two stray feathers back flat. “I'm gonna...I don't know, groom these a little bit?”
“Preen. Feathers are preened.”
“That sounds a little dirty.” Cas just rolled his eyes at him, as Dean expected. “What? It does.” Even the longer feathers were softer than regular feathers, sliding into place like silk. It took some time and a lot of combing through but Dean finally managed to smooth down every last feather until the wings gleamed. “How's that feel, Cas?” he whispered, leaning down close to Cas' ear. “Better?”
Cas didn't answer and didn't need to; Cas' forehead was beaded with sweat, his breathing fast and ragged. Feeling Cas slowly turn into a sweaty, writhing mess under him had rewarded every second of Dean's patience. “Told you it sounded dirty,” Dean said, licking around the base of the left wing and savoring the strangled little moan that drew out.
Cas was wearing jeans but nothing else, something Dean was very happy to discover when he slid his hands past Cas' waistband. “That's not a massage,” Cas said.
Dean was surprised he wasn't too breathless for teasing “It's a kind of massage,” Dean said, reaching underneath Cas to unfasten the top button. Cas arched his back to help Dean slide the jeans down and off and Dean wasted no time getting rid of his own clothes, wondering what was wrong with him that he'd been wearing them all this time. He licked his way up Cas' spine, making sure to stop to kiss the rougher skin between the base of the wings and the start of the feathers. When that made Cas' breath flutter Dean did it again.
Then Dean reached for the oil. The cool oil made Cas gasp as Dean slicked him up, already bucking his hips when Dean slid in one finger. “Easy,” Dean said. “Don't get ahead of me.” He wiped off his hands and spread Cas' legs, kneeling back between them. Cas propped himself up on his elbows to urge him along but Dean took his time, working himself in only an inch or two and then stopping, waiting until Cas groaned with impatience before moving again. Just before he was all the way inside Dean traced both hands along the curve of Cas' wings and Cas bucked his hips hard, clenching so hard around Dean he couldn't breathe for a second. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean whispered, wrapping his hands around those wings. “We should get witches to hex you every day.”
Cas just let out a desperate moan at that, one that was equal parts Why are you still talking? and What's wrong with you, keep going. That was all the encouragement Dean needed; he worked himself into a slow, steady rhythm, as much to keep himself under control as to keep teasing Cas. Every time Dean's hands moved on his wings Cas moaned, his hands tight fists; when Dean started stroking those soft feathers in rhythm with his thrusts Cas shook. Dean finally gave in and picked up the pace, the way that made Cas cry out whiting out his vision. Dean could feel Cas' pulse pounding through his wings and counted each heartbeat, needed to hold out just a little longer as Cas came apart beneath him. Cas finally let out a deep, shaking groan, wings flaring out and muscles contracting tight enough around Dean to blur his vision. Dean let himself go, the release so powerful Dean collapsed on top of Cas, gasping for air and feeling echoes of the climax race down his arms and legs.
When his head cleared Dean took the second to wipe himself off then rolled over to his back, pulling Cas on top of him. He thought he'd come hard but Cas was still all but insensible from it; Dean kissed him until Cas' eyes started to focus, grinning when Cas shook his head and snuggled against him. “I like the wings,” Cas whispered, something almost despairing in the way he said it.
“I'm pretty sold on them right now too.”
Cas nodded, proof he was still a little out of it because that hadn't actually been a question. “How...how long do you think it will take Sam to undo the the hex?”
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. You know how these things go. We'll worry about that in the morning.” It could take forever as far as Dean was concerned, especially since he suddenly had no interest in helping Sam with the research.
“It's almost morning now,” Cas said. “It'll be hard to travel, with the way they are. They'll be difficult to hide, and we'll be noticed....”
Dean tipped Cas' chin into another kiss. “Cas. We'll figure it out. We'll get a harness like that dude in the X-Men if we have to. Okay?” Cas studied Dean's eyes for a moment, as if he wasn't sure if Dean really meant that. Dean kissed him again. “No one's going to make you do anything,” Dean repeated. “Me least of all.”
After another moment Cas nodded, relaxing back against Dean. “I really like the wings,” he said again, folding them around Dean.
“Yeah. Me too.” Dean stroked along those soft feathers until Cas' breathing went soft and even. Cas had been right about it almost being morning; Dean watched the early dawn light slant through the window, picking out the shadow black and bright, bright white. He smoothed down a stray feather that had ruffled up and felt Cas sigh, wrapping tighter around him. Dean lay there through the sunrise, the building light hitting the wings in a way that made the white feathers all but glow.
Dean kissed Cas' forehead, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Me too.”
-fin-
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supenatual
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5600
Spoilers: Set Set in some vague, post-canon time where Cas is human for good and everyone is happy (but still hunting!)
A/N: Written for deancas_xmas for paxdracona. Prompt: former angel Cas gets hit with a rather cruel curse; he grows an impressive set of wings which have absolutely nothing to do with him becoming an angel again: he's still fully human. He is parts happy (in a nostalgic way) for their weight and such, but mostly he is bitter because the wings are beautiful but useless (can't fly and such) and cumbersome (they can't be hidden). Meanwhile, Dean discovers a kink he didn't know he had while trying to make his boyfriend feel better.
Summary: Dean supposed it was only a matter of time before Cas wound up on the wrong end of a witch's hex.
*
Sometimes Dean sat back and thought about all the various things that had tried to kill him over the past thirty-plus years. Wendigo. Wraiths. Ghosts of every kind and description. Werewolves and vampires both, absolutely ruining late night schlock horror movies for him. Shifters. Leviathan. Demons. Angels. Hell, archangels. The actual, literal Satan himself had tried to turn his face into lunch meat in a cemetery outside his own hometown. Most hunters would have taken that as a sign it was time to retire, nothing more to see here, like a baseball player breaking a record and realizing it was all downhill from there. (Not that hunters ever retired really, but sometimes at night when his back ached too much to sleep it was fun to think of all the weird records he'd set that no other hunter would ever break, the lucky bastards.)
Still, even with all the monsters howling for his blood over the years like the universe had taken a D&D monster manual and decided to throw it up all over his life, Dean managed to hold a special hatred in his heart for witches.
It was the same every time. Every time they decided to go on a witch hunt the plan always managed to turn to the weirdest possible shit.
And God help them (but not really, because that would just make everything worse), Cas being on the team full time now just served to crank the weird all the way past eleven. “Cas? You okay back there?” He adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better look, hissing out a breath between his teeth. “Shit, they're bigger.”
“I noticed.” Cas' voice was clipped, his nails digging grooves into the leather of the Impala's back seat. Dean was about to ask Cas how he felt again when Cas groaned, burying his face into the seat as his whole body tensed. The back of his shirt was spattered with blood, more than the last time Dean had looked, little rivulets of it dripping down to the leather.
Dean shot a glance to Sam sitting shotgun beside him, but the only answer he got was a baffled shrug. “Let's just get back to the motel,” Sam said, sending a glance back Cas' way that was full of every inch of the panic Dean wouldn't let himself feel right now. “We'll...I dunno, we'll sort this out once we get there.” Cas moaned again, another wave of pain wracking him and Sam snaked an arm back to squeeze one of Cas' hands tight.
Dean wished he could do the same but driving was the only thing keeping him from shaking apart. He could still see that witch every time he closed his eyes, blonde hair blowing around her despite there being no wind. She'd had one hand extended toward him, red and black energy circling her fingertips as she'd chanted and suddenly Cas had been right there, knocking Dean out of the way and taking the hex full in the chest. The way Cas had screamed when he'd hit the ground still rattled around in Dean's skull. “The hell did you shove me out of the way for?” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“You would have died.”
Dean hadn't expected Cas to hear him. He glanced back up at him through the mirror, noting that Cas was pale and shaky and just this side of going into shock and refused to think about what it might mean that Cas had taken the hit instead. It wasn't like there weren't plenty of other things to worry about right then.
Like how even though Cas hadn't been an angel for a long damn time that witch's hex had made him grow wings.
***
When Dean pulled into the motel lot he and Sam looked at each other, looked back at Cas and realized they had a problem. “We can't march him through the front,” Sam said, his voice low and Dean had no choice but to agree. The wings were still growing but Dean guessed the span was already over six feet, not something they could expect the front desk guy to overlook, even a front desk guy in a place like this. “I'll pull around the back,” Dean said, turning the engine back over and pulling onto the dirt road that snaked around the building. “There's a service entrance, we can get to the rooms from there.” He wished it was night instead of midday but there was nothing to do about that; hiding in the car or driving around until sundown just wasn't an option.
Dean slid into the back seat next to Cas as Sam went to work on the lock. “Hey,” he said, keeping one eye on the road just in case anyone had seen them and decided to get curious. “How're you feeling?”
Cas groaned but it sounded more annoyed than pained. He pushed himself up on his elbows, shaking his head. “A little better,” he said. “The pain's not...not as bad as it had been at the beginning.”
Dean stroked his fingers through Cas' hair, slowly easing him back down until he was draped over Dean's lap. “We've all gotten zapped by witches, Cas. Guess it's only fair you get a turn too.”
Cas let out a scoffing little grunt that made it very clear he didn't agree. He rolled his shoulders, wincing a little but no show of pain beyond that. “I can feel my bones growing,” he said, shifting around like he couldn't find a comfortable position. “It's very strange.”
Dean brushed just his fingertips against the edge of one of the wings, not able to resist, but jerked his hand back when Cas hissed and flicked the wing away. “Didn't know you could move those things.”
“Neither did I,” Cas said, looking up over his shoulder. “That was interesting.”
Before he could say anything else another growth spurt hit him; Cas pressed his face against Dean's leg, his hands tight fists. All Dean could do was rub his neck to help him push through it, watching in stomach-churning amazement as the wings put on what he guessed had to be another full foot each. “Shhh,” Dean said, “Easy.”
“I wish that would stop,” he said, groaning as the growth spurt finished shaking its way through him.
“Me and Sam'll track the witch down tonight. That should stop it.” Cas nodded and Dean got the sense it was more to humor Dean than to agree. “How do you feel, wings aside?” Cas looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard, and Dean said, “I mean, you think the hex did anything else weird?”
Cas lay back against Dean's lap. “Stop worrying about that, Dean.”
Before Dean could ask what that meant he heard Sam call out, “Got the lock!” He watched Sam circle around to the back of the car and pop the trunk. He turned his attention back to Cas, rolling down the window when he heard Sam's boots crunching on the gravel along the dirt path. “Here,” Sam said, shoving the old blanket they kept in the trunk through the open window. “Wrap this around him, just in case anyone does see.”
Dean nodded and grabbed the blanket, opening the door and easing himself out as he did his best to wrap Cas up. “C'mon,” he said, half pulling Cas out of the car when Cas clearly was having second thoughts about moving. “On your feet.”
The blanket wasn't a perfect cover - the wings poked out from the bottom and Cas winced when it touched him, like the wings were raw - but as long as they moved fast Dean thought it would work. It took Cas a second to find his balance, almost pitching backwards once he was finally upright. Dean wrapped one arm around his waist and walked him forward, looking around as Sam held the heavy back door open.
For the first time all day luck was with them. No one poked a head out as the three of them crept down the dingy hallway and they got the door to Dean and Cas' room open without incident. Cas wasted no time flopping face down on the bed, letting out a relieved groan as he stretched out. “I'm gonna look through the books we found the other day, see if there's anything that even looks like this,” Sam said.
“Thanks.” Dean ruffled one hand through Cas' hair. He knew the sound of his brother giving him an out when he heard it. “You need any help, just shout.”
“Pretty sure I can handle it. Same goes for you two, though. I'm right across the hall.”
Dean nodded, his attention now back on Cas. Sam left to bury himself in witch lore, the door clicking shut behind him but Dean barely heard; he was watching Cas' breathing, keeping an eye on his color. Cas wasn't as pale as he'd been in the back of the car and the shaking was nowhere near as bad. Dean thought the risk of shock was over, at least. He supposed he should thank Heaven for small favors.
He dug a pair of sharp scissors out of his bag and sat back down on the bed, massaging one hand into the small of Cas' back when he startled. “Easy, buddy, easy. Just me.”
“Huh. I think I nodded off for a second.”
Dean grinned to himself. Cas never really had gotten the hang of sleeping, like it still managed to surprise him. “That's good. I'm guessing that means it's not hurting as much.”
Cas nodded. “Not as much, no.” He shifted on the bed again. “They're getting heavy.”
Dean reached out for one of the wings again, keeping his touch very light, and this time Cas didn't shy away. “You feel that?” Cas nodded again, stretching out as if he wanted to take up the entire bed. Dean traced one finger around the edge of a feather; when the wings had first erupted they'd been as black as the shadow wings Dean had first seen in that barn in Illinois.
That had changed as the wings had grown, Dean saw now. The short feathers near the top of the wings were still dark but the long pin feathers had come in as a dazzling ivory, the rounded tips keeping that deep shadow black. Dean traced his fingers down the blood streaks marring that white, noting that it had started to dry. “At least it looks like you stopped bleeding,” he said, easing himself next to Cas and picking up the scissors to start cutting off Cas' shirt. There was no saving the shirt anyway, the wings had torn jagged holes through the back of the shirt and it was held together by threads. Cas sighed as Dean cut the last of it off and from the way the shirt had been twisted around the wings Dean could only imagine what a relief it must be to have all that off.
Dean winced when he saw the raw and inflamed skin circling the base of the wings, cracked and peeling like the worst kind of sunburn. That would hurt like hell even without giant wings pushing their way through; Dean could see the border where the normal skin gave way to the wing base was scabbed over and winced again. “Don't get how you weren't screaming the whole time.”
“Keep doing that. That feels nice.”
Dean hadn't even realized he'd started rubbing Cas' back between the new wings, but now that Cas had said that he certainly wasn't going to stop. As he felt Cas start to really relax he took in the streaks of drying blood on his back and marring the white on his wings. “I'm gonna clean you up, okay?” he said, waiting for Cas to nod before moving.
It took a few minutes of poking around to find the ice bucket and scrub it enough for it to be somewhere close to clean, but at least the water in the motel was warm enough. Dean grabbed a washcloth and the bucket and sat back down on the bed, very carefully washing the blood from Cas' back.
The wings were going to take a little more caution. Cas shivered when Dean just touched him and he cringed away when he felt the water. “Too hot,” he said, pressing his face into pillows. “That's too hot.”
The water really wasn't all that warm but Dean put it aside, going back to rubbing Cas' back until the water was barely lukewarm. This time when he tried to wash the blood out of the wings Cas murmured something Dean couldn't make out but he didn't cringe away. “Better?”
“Mrmm.”
Dean grinned. “Good.”
“You think this is permanent.”
“Huh? Why'd you say that?”
Cas shrugged, only wincing a little. “You wouldn't be taking such care with them if you thought otherwise.”
Dean sighed, sitting back on his heels. “I don't know what I think, Cas. This is a new kind of weird for us and witch hexes are hard to judge. Sometimes their stuff fizzles when they get ganked but lots of times they don't.” Dean went back to doing his best on the wings. “You hoping they're permanent?”
Cas let out a dismissive little snort. “I would feel better if I could know whether the witch was being particularly cruel or just incompetent.”
“Incompetent I get, but why cruel? Trust me, I've been hexed by more than my share of witches and wings aren't such a bad side effect, even if they did hurt at first.”
Dean saw that half smile on Cas' face, the old one he rarely saw anymore. “Dean, if your legs had been severed and a witch hexed you new ones, only they were wooden pegs instead of real and whole, would you see that as a blessing or an insult?”
Dean was saved from coming up with an answer for that by a knock on the door. “Um,” he heard Sam say. “Everyone decent in there?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah Sam, it's safe.” Sam opened the door, peeking his head in like he didn't believe Dean. Just because that had happened one time. “I think I have a lead on the witch. Something weird popped up on the police scanner and it's not that far away.”
Cas waved Dean way before he could say a word. “Go,” Cas said. “The ritual has to be stopped.”
Dean ruffled his hair again before getting up, crouching at the side of the bed to kiss him on the lips before strapping on his gun. “No getting in trouble without us, okay?”
This time it was much closer to a real smile. “I get into more than enough with you, I don't need to seek out more.”
“Yeah, never stopped you before.”
Cas shoved him away for that, closing his eyes as Dean took care of the rest of the job prep.
Dean wondered if it was just his imagination that the wings looked bigger.
***
It took three tries to get Cas to answer his damn phone. “Dean?” he said, sounding both tired and cranky. For someone who always went on about how he wasn't designed to sleep Cas was always the biggest pain when someone woke him up. “What's wrong? Did you lose the witch?”
Dean glanced over at Sam wrapping the body up in a tarp so they could hide it long enough to get out of town. “Well, guess that answers my question then.”
“Oh.” Cas could be very quick on the uptake when he wanted to be. “So I take it you dealt with her.”
“Yeah, her and her whole creepy little coven family. Place is isolated enough that no one came out to check on things, so at least we don't have to run out of town right away.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “I take it the wings are still there.”
“Yes.” He heard Cas shifting around, like he was sitting up on the bed. He was surprised that Cas didn't sound anywhere near as disappointed as Dean would have expected. It actually bugged Dean a little, although he wasn't about to say that. “Are you and Sam on your way back?”
“Yeah, gonna clean up a little here and head over. Plan to leave come morning. How're the wings feeling? They still growing?”
“I think they're at full length now. I'm just not used to the extra weight or very coordinated with them.” Dean heard a little hitch in his voice. “We may want to leave quietly. I tied to take a shower and that was a...mistake. I may have broken some of the fixtures. And the mirror.”
“Not the first motel room we've left trashed. Keep a low profile, we're on our way back.
***
When Dean got back to the room the overhead lights were off, just the lamp left on the tiny corner desk letting him see. Cas was stretched out on the bed like he hadn't moved since Dean had left him, but he startled up when Dean opened the door. “Oh, good,” he said when he recognized Dean. “I thought you were housekeeping again, I've had to hide twice.”
Dean barely heard the words. He didn't even remember to close the door behind him, all he could do was stare at Cas. The wings had grown since he'd been gone; Dean guessed they would span at least fifteen feet if Cas stretched them out, maybe even twenty. The color had set, a soft fringe of shadow black along the top giving way to long ivory feathers, each one tipped again with black, the dim light making them look like they dissolved away into nothingness. The white feathers gleamed, almost to the point it hurt Dean to look at him. “Dean?” Cas finally said, breaking Dean out of the spell. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at Dean with that long familiar head tilt. The movement made the right wing curve over his shoulder, like Cas was framed by it, and Dean could not make his mind work when Cas was looking at him like that. “You should close the door.”
“Oh. Right.” Dean managed to fumble the door locked as Cas stretched back out on the bed. Dean got the definite feeling Cas knew he was staring and didn't mind it in the least. “Surprised the housekeeping in this place even bothered.”
“Yes, they've been unexpectedly diligent. We should remember to tip.” Cas' brows drew together. “What are you carrying?”
Dean had entirely forgotten the bag in his hand. “Later,” he said, setting it down by the side of the bed before sitting next to Cas, running one hand down his spine. The inflammation had cleared up, the bases of the wings now circled by healthy pink skin. “How're you holding up?”
“Better now. Once they reached full length the pain stopped, now it just feels...I don't know. Odd. And my balance is terrible.”
“Yeah, that's probably gonna take some getting used to.” Cas stretched the wings out and that was...that was a hell of a thing to see. “Sam's gonna look up some lore to see if we can figure a way to undo the hex, since taking out the witch didn't do it. And if nothing turns up, there's other options. Surgical ones, if it comes to that.” Cas gave him a wide-eyed look at that idea, his whole body going tense. “Or not. We're not going to make you do anything, Cas, you know that.” Cas turned away, spots of pink in his cheeks like he'd been embarrassed by that reaction. Dean kept rubbing his back until he felt Cas start to relax, the wings going from tight against his back to loose curves over his shoulders. “You do know that, right?”
“Of course,” he said, fidgeting in a way that made Dean wonder if he really believed it. “It's just...I realize how inconvenient this is going to be.”
Dean traced the line of his shoulder blade for a second, then reached down to the side of the bed. “Scoot over. Got something for you.” Cas shifted himself over to the center of the bed, his brow creased with unspoken questions that Dean didn't answer until he eased himself on top of Cas, straddling over his hips. “Picked up some massage stuff,” he said, opening one of the little tubes and spreading the oil on Cas' back. “Figured you could use that right about now.”
“Mm,” Cas said, easing into the touch like a happy cat. “You are very good at that.”
“One of my many talents.” It didn't take very long at all to see what a good call this had been; Cas' back was a tight knot of muscle that had to feel like one solid ache. Dean started up by the curve of his neck and started to work his way down. “Sounds like you changed your mind on the wings.”
“I...perhaps. Go a little lower.” He let out a contented little sigh when Dean hit the desired spot, although his brows were still furrowed together.
“Just saying. You acted like they were an insult before. That whole thing about peg legs, y'know.”
“I know I did,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “I was angry. It had taken a long time to come to terms with...you know.” Dean felt his stomach twist at the yearning in Cas' voice; they rarely talked about Cas' angel days anymore. “I'd felt insulted. But as time passed it didn't seem so bad.” Dean caught ghost of a smile on his face. “I suppose an inferior replacement is better than total absence,” he said, looking up at one outstretched wing. “I hadn't realized how much I'd missed having them.”
Dean quieted the worry gnawing at him for a while, focusing on working his way down Cas' back and feeling Cas go limp and relaxed under his hands. “You'd said the hex would have killed me,” he finally said. “How'd you know that?”
“Because I understood what she was saying,” Cas said, craning his neck to look at Dean. “The spell was in an old demonic language, one commonly used for rituals although she must have learned the it by rote, her pronunciation was terrible. The chant was one of revision, usually used as a type of banishment among demons to send the offending one back to where they'd been formed.”
That made...actually less sense than these things usually did. “I don't get it. What would that have done to me?”
“You've spent more time dead and in hell than you have alive. The spell is designed to banish demons back to the part of Hell where they'd existed the longest.”
“So...because I'd spent more time dead than alive, that's why it would have killed me?”
“Or ripped your soul out of your body and sent it back to the Pit. Neither option seemed very promising. Not that I think she knew the spell would have that effect, she may well have been just trying to make us go away.” Cas' hands clenched tight into the pillow as Dean worked on his lower back. “Keep doing that.”
“You got it.” Dean liked watching Cas' wings move in reaction to his touch, little twitches when he hit a sensitive spot. “Thanks for...y'know. Not letting me go back to hell.”
“It would be much more difficult to get you out this time,” Cas said, resting his head on his folded arms. He let Dean work him over for a few more minutes, then he closed his eyes. “Say what's worrying you.”
Dean wasn't sure how to say it himself. “You were an angel a whole hell of a lot longer than I spent in hell, Cas. Was a part of you hoping that hex would kick you back upstairs?”
“Dean.” Cas turned himself over, staring at Dean with those blue eyes that were every bit as intense as that first night in that far off barn. Then he sat up and kissed Dean, forcing Dean back on his heels. Dean shifted them both over so Cas was propped against the headboard as he took the kiss deep; he could feel the wings circle around him as Cas teased his lips open. When Cas finally pulled back he was flushed and breathing hard and it took everything Dean had not to just kiss him again. “Dean, if that choice was offered to me I would not take it.” Cas' hands were tight in his hair, like he wanted to make sure Dean met his eyes. “Do you believe me?”
“It's just...y'know, you've been human or close to it before, and....”
“That was before. Now is all I'm concerned with. ” He kissed Dean again, drawing it out to be slow and lingering. “I'm where and what I want to be, Dean. Promise me you will never doubt that again.” Dean could only nod. “Good.” Cas leaned back against the headboard. “Although I'll admit there are some things about being an angel that I'd apparently missed more than I'd realized.”
“Like having wings.”
“Yes. Like having wings.”
“Turn back over,” Dean said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd expected. “You didn't let me finish.”
Cas turned back onto his stomach, an indulgent grin on his face like he was doing Dean a favor. He sighed when Dean straddled back over him, Dean's thumbs massaging back along his spine. “You can...you can touch them. If you want to.”
Dean didn't need any more invitation. “I wasn't avoiding it because I didn't want to,” he said, tracing along the wings' bases. “They were pretty sensitive before, I didn't want to hurt you.”
“I'm hoping they still are,” Cas said, his voice already hazy.
Dean got to work. The skin color underneath the feathers changed from the new pink skin circling the bases to a deep black, textured like the skin on Cas' palms. Every bit as sensitive too; Cas moaned as Dean made his slow inventory even though Dean was very careful not to apply too much pressure. He could feel the powerful muscles in the bases move under his fingers whenever the wings twitched, and he could feel Cas' pulse beating strong and rapid.
The feathers started off short and downy at the base and along the sweep of muscle and bone that gave the wings their shape, growing in black to give the wings a shadowy outline. Dean traced along the first joint, grinning when Cas shied away like it tickled. “They grew in nice, give the witch credit for that. Shame you can't fly on them, though.”
“I know,” Cas said, sounding mournful. “I tried.”
“Did you?” Dean wished he'd been around to see that. “Did you try going out the window? We're not that high up.”
“That turned out to be for the best.”
“You're lucky no one saw you.” Cas was blushing fire engine red and Dean decided to have some mercy. He stroked one hand down the length of the left wing, noting all the ruffled and out of place feathers. “Man, you're a mess,” he said, smoothing two stray feathers back flat. “I'm gonna...I don't know, groom these a little bit?”
“Preen. Feathers are preened.”
“That sounds a little dirty.” Cas just rolled his eyes at him, as Dean expected. “What? It does.” Even the longer feathers were softer than regular feathers, sliding into place like silk. It took some time and a lot of combing through but Dean finally managed to smooth down every last feather until the wings gleamed. “How's that feel, Cas?” he whispered, leaning down close to Cas' ear. “Better?”
Cas didn't answer and didn't need to; Cas' forehead was beaded with sweat, his breathing fast and ragged. Feeling Cas slowly turn into a sweaty, writhing mess under him had rewarded every second of Dean's patience. “Told you it sounded dirty,” Dean said, licking around the base of the left wing and savoring the strangled little moan that drew out.
Cas was wearing jeans but nothing else, something Dean was very happy to discover when he slid his hands past Cas' waistband. “That's not a massage,” Cas said.
Dean was surprised he wasn't too breathless for teasing “It's a kind of massage,” Dean said, reaching underneath Cas to unfasten the top button. Cas arched his back to help Dean slide the jeans down and off and Dean wasted no time getting rid of his own clothes, wondering what was wrong with him that he'd been wearing them all this time. He licked his way up Cas' spine, making sure to stop to kiss the rougher skin between the base of the wings and the start of the feathers. When that made Cas' breath flutter Dean did it again.
Then Dean reached for the oil. The cool oil made Cas gasp as Dean slicked him up, already bucking his hips when Dean slid in one finger. “Easy,” Dean said. “Don't get ahead of me.” He wiped off his hands and spread Cas' legs, kneeling back between them. Cas propped himself up on his elbows to urge him along but Dean took his time, working himself in only an inch or two and then stopping, waiting until Cas groaned with impatience before moving again. Just before he was all the way inside Dean traced both hands along the curve of Cas' wings and Cas bucked his hips hard, clenching so hard around Dean he couldn't breathe for a second. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean whispered, wrapping his hands around those wings. “We should get witches to hex you every day.”
Cas just let out a desperate moan at that, one that was equal parts Why are you still talking? and What's wrong with you, keep going. That was all the encouragement Dean needed; he worked himself into a slow, steady rhythm, as much to keep himself under control as to keep teasing Cas. Every time Dean's hands moved on his wings Cas moaned, his hands tight fists; when Dean started stroking those soft feathers in rhythm with his thrusts Cas shook. Dean finally gave in and picked up the pace, the way that made Cas cry out whiting out his vision. Dean could feel Cas' pulse pounding through his wings and counted each heartbeat, needed to hold out just a little longer as Cas came apart beneath him. Cas finally let out a deep, shaking groan, wings flaring out and muscles contracting tight enough around Dean to blur his vision. Dean let himself go, the release so powerful Dean collapsed on top of Cas, gasping for air and feeling echoes of the climax race down his arms and legs.
When his head cleared Dean took the second to wipe himself off then rolled over to his back, pulling Cas on top of him. He thought he'd come hard but Cas was still all but insensible from it; Dean kissed him until Cas' eyes started to focus, grinning when Cas shook his head and snuggled against him. “I like the wings,” Cas whispered, something almost despairing in the way he said it.
“I'm pretty sold on them right now too.”
Cas nodded, proof he was still a little out of it because that hadn't actually been a question. “How...how long do you think it will take Sam to undo the the hex?”
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. You know how these things go. We'll worry about that in the morning.” It could take forever as far as Dean was concerned, especially since he suddenly had no interest in helping Sam with the research.
“It's almost morning now,” Cas said. “It'll be hard to travel, with the way they are. They'll be difficult to hide, and we'll be noticed....”
Dean tipped Cas' chin into another kiss. “Cas. We'll figure it out. We'll get a harness like that dude in the X-Men if we have to. Okay?” Cas studied Dean's eyes for a moment, as if he wasn't sure if Dean really meant that. Dean kissed him again. “No one's going to make you do anything,” Dean repeated. “Me least of all.”
After another moment Cas nodded, relaxing back against Dean. “I really like the wings,” he said again, folding them around Dean.
“Yeah. Me too.” Dean stroked along those soft feathers until Cas' breathing went soft and even. Cas had been right about it almost being morning; Dean watched the early dawn light slant through the window, picking out the shadow black and bright, bright white. He smoothed down a stray feather that had ruffled up and felt Cas sigh, wrapping tighter around him. Dean lay there through the sunrise, the building light hitting the wings in a way that made the white feathers all but glow.
Dean kissed Cas' forehead, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Me too.”
-fin-