i would like to talk about cas appreciating the hell out of dean’s bowlegs. pressing him against the wall and forcing his legs apart so he can stand between them, stroking his hands over his thighs reverently and then gripping tight, fingers digging in to the firm muscle as he hoists him up to shove him harder into the wall. dean has no choice but to wrap his legs around him and take it when cas grinds roughly into him. while he gasps and swears, cas calmly mentions that he thinks dean’s legs might have been created specifically to fit around him, and would he like to test the theory that they would fit neatly over his shoulders too?
Dean’s vision begins fading somewhere around the sixth date. He tells Cas that he should get out now but Cas doesn’t budge.
He started losing his heart somewhere around the third.
Dean gets glasses. He hates them at first, always laughs and says he looks like a nerd. Cas adores them, loves to take them from Dean to clean the lenses before settling them back on his nose. He likes the way they go crooked on Dean’s face when he falls asleep on the couch, loves the sound they make when Dean sets them on the bedside table right before he turns out the light and kisses Cas goodnight.
The prescriptions steadily get stronger, buying them a little more time. In that time, they whisper their first “I love you”s, Cas moves in, and they travel. Cas takes Dean anywhere and everywhere, from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific. They stop at the Grand Canyon, drive down to Mexico for a day.
When it seems that Dean’s vision will last the fall, they decide to go to Texas for Austin City Limits. They take a few days before Thanksgiving to drive up the east coast and visit some orchards, see a few lighthouses. They spend a night in Martha’s Vineyard and Dean complains about feeling like some uppity Hartford housewife but he holds Cas close that night as they sit on the beach and watch the stars.
It’s when they’re in Kansas for the holidays that Dean wakes up, puts on his glasses, and sees so difference. He shakes Cas away, starting to panic.
“Everything is still blurry, C-Cas. Why-why- it shouldn’t” His breathing becomes ragged and there are tears streaking down his face and Cas cups his chin, heart breaking in his chest as he tries to calm Dean down.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”
Dean had always thought that a good quality comforter was the most luxurious thing to wake up under. But ever since he started waking up like this, his thoughts had changed entirely.
As sunlight gently peeked through the curtains, shining a cautious soft beam of light over the queen sized bed, Dean felt Castiel’s large, black wing loosely drooped over his body. The feathers were softer and warmer than anything a comforter could ever get him, large enough to cover his upper body and part of his legs. He smiled lazily. The feathers brushed against his bare skin as he stretched and moved around to shift closer to its owner.
Castiel lay on his back, his other wing stretched out over the edge of the bed down to the floor, his naked body exposed, blankets kicked aside in his sleep. Dean looked at him from under the wing, his fingers automatically gliding over soft raven feathers and smooth lines, known little bumps and the thicker parts.
Castiel looked peaceful. His lips were slightly parted as he slowly breathed in his steady rhythm of sleep. Dean lay there for a while, observing Cas as he let the warmth and softness of the feathers embrace him. He caressed he feathers still. Dean had been mesmerized by them ever since Castiel first exposed them. They were huge, majestic, and radiated a power Dean couldn’t compare with anything else.
And yet, they looked gentle and fragile when Cas injured them and Dean picked out the ruffled feathers. Castiel had taught Dean how to groom them and use the preen oil, an activity Dean found himself to enjoy, often compared with soft chatting. Sometimes a movie would be playing in the background as they sat on the floor and Dean plucked feathers, pressing kisses in the crook of Castiel’s neck.
Sometimes, Dean would take it a step further with his massages, out to get the little whimpers and groans from Castiel. He’d ended up with a panting, desperate Castiel several times, Dean’s hands full of feathers and his own body filled with arousal.
He loved it all. The quiet moments, the loud ones, the moments when Castiel held Dean with his wing or when they lay on the couch, curled up together with Castiel’s wings wrapped around them. Dean couldn’t get enough of them.
Castiel muttered softly and stirred, his eyes opening slowly.
The wing draped over Dean fluttered and shifted in Dean’s fingers. Cas turned to look at Dean, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The angel smiled.
“Morning sunshine,” Dean whispered and his own lips curved as well. Castiel made a soft noise and shifted closer. He stretched his wings for a moment, then covered Dean with his right one again and pulled him closer with the wrist of his wing.
“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel muttered, his primary feathers rustling. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he answered and pressed a sloppy kiss to Castiel’s unshaven jaw. “How couldn’t I, hm?” He slipped his fingers into the pack of feathers carefully, and Cas smiled again.
“You seem to enjoy my wings a lot.” They moved again.
“I think they’re beautiful, you know that.”
Castiel shifted and pulled his wing in, gesturing his head. Dean understood and he got up so Cas could slide his wing under Dean. As soon as Dean sank down into the feathers, Castiel pulled him closer.
Dean’s naked body pressed softly against Cas, covered by the angel’s wing and casting a shadow over their faces.
Dean kissed Castiel’s jaw again, pressed a few more kisses down his neck and shoulder.
The wings replied to the touch, shifting and shuddering when Dean softly nibbled on the skin.
“It’s rare for an angel to show his wings this… casually.” Castiel spoke, his voice still thick with sleep. His eyes were closed again, enjoying Dean’s kisses. “It’s only for… special occasions. And special people.”
Dean looked up and feathers softly brushed over the back of his head and Cas looked back. He softly rested his hand on Dean’s waist. “You’re special, Dean.”
Dean didn’t know how to reply, shy suddenly. He smiled a coy grin and pecked Castiel’s lips.
“Think I’m glad about that.” He muttered, shifting back into the feathers. This was how Sunday’s had to feel, he thought. Calm and peaceful and warm and right.
He found Castiel’s hand and tangled their fingers together.
“Maybe we should get up for some coffee soon. I’m sure Sam’s already awake.” Dean whispered, his eyes closed.
“Probably,” Cas answered. “Just- not yet.”
Dean hummed in agreement and gently slid his free hand through the silky feathers. He didn’t want to think about the case they were working on or the monsters they had to fight. Not yet. Just a few more minutes.