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Your name is DEAN WINCHESTER and you can't figure out for the life of you how Castiel functions with those wings, Jesus Christ.
The first time Dean saw Castiel, the first thing he thought was holy shit what is his issue?
The second thought he had was hot damn, those are some wings.
Each wing had to be at least six feet long, if not longer. The feathers were mottled brown, which surprised Dean. He had always assumed angel wings would be bright, not boring and like normal bird wings. Well, giant bird wings. Seriously, the shortest down feathers were longer than Sam's hair, how was that even possible?
And then the angel had disappeared and Dean was left with the image of shining blue eyes and the sound of wings fluttering.
He spent the next few days wondering what it would be like to run his fingers through those feathers.
The first time Cas appears in the back of the Impala, Dean is sure that his wings will punch through the roof of the car. By the time he leaves, Dean is sure that the seat will be covered in feathers. He's surprised to find that neither happened. Angels must not shed their feathers, he decided, and shrugged it off.
Dean knocked back the dregs of beer at the bottom of the bottle and pulled a face. Seriously, who was responsible for putting sand in his drink? Teach him to buy the cheapest beer available in a small-ass town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Thanks, Nevada! Goddamn.
"I would appreciate it if you would stop using my father's name when you are being sarcastic, Dean." Cas frowned at him in that indignant way that made it look like he was chastising a small child.
"I would appreciate it if you'd quit listening in to my brain. And for fuck's sake, don't sit on baby like that!" He tossed aside the beer bottle and glared at the angel perched on the hood of his Impala. "You're gonna scratch the paint with your damn coat and I don't feel like dishing out the cash to fix it."
"Apologies, Dean." Cas slid off of the car (there had better not be any marks or you swear to God you'll pluck those feathers out of his wings) and sat ever-so-primly in the empty chair between Dean and the sleeping Sam. His wings, mottled brown and massive, flutter a little behind him and Dean made a mental note to get something a little more accommodating; Cas almost looked like he's in pain. Dean was also pretty sure that wings weren't supposed to bend like that.
The elder Winchester pulled the last two beers from the six-pack and tossed one to Cas, who caught it clumsily and stared at it as though he'd never seen a bottle of beer in his life. Dean rolled his eyes, cracking his own open and taking a long drag before speaking. "You're supposed to drink it."
"Yes, I understand this. I would just like to point out that you are attempting to give me a human soporific that has little effect on-" Oh, Dean knew that tone, that ranty 'I-know-better-than-you' tone.
"Dude, just drink it. Seriously." He cut him off. Cas sighed and spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how a bottle cap worked, then another five attempting to open the beer with Dean's bottle opener while the Winchester laughed. He finally took pity on the angel and opened the bottle for him, a smug grin on his face. Revenge for sitting on the Impala. One of these days Cas would learn not to touch and until then, he'd take all of Dean's shit. Okay, actually, he'd still take Dean's shit, because Dean was an asshole that liked to tease, so sue him.
Maybe one day he'd wrap Cas' wings in plastic. Heh, yes, perfect. That'll be for the next time Cas tries to drive.
Dean stood there awkwardly, not sure what to say. He stared at the covered car for a moment, then looked at Cas. "Thanks for the lift."
"My pleasure." Cas' tone was stiff. Dean sighed and started toward the car, only to stop at the sound of his name.
He spun on his heel, jaw clenching for a moment. "Cas, we've been over it. I get it- you can't help."
Cas appeared to ignore Dean's statement, though his wings fluffed out defensively. "If we attack Dick and fail, then you and Sam die heroically, correct?"
"I don't know. I guess." Dean shrugged, pretending he really didn't care even though the thought of his brother, his Sammy, dying sent a flash of agony through him.
"And at best, I die trying to fix my own stupid mistake. Or.... I don't die – I'm brought back again. I see now. It's a punishment resurrection. It's worse every time." Cas sounded pensive, thoughtful.
"I'm sorry. Uh, we're talking about God crap, right?" He really needed clarification, wow. Angels were so confusing and their trains of thought were never linear.
"I'm not good luck, Dean." Cas mumbled after a moment. His wings drooped, conveying the sadness that the angel refused to express.
"Yeah, but you know what? Bottom of the ninth, and you're the only guy left on the bench... Sorry, but I'd rather have you, cursed or not. And anyway, nut up, all right? We're all cursed. I seem like good luck to you?" Dean retorted, trying to comfort him in his own way. Cas' wings lifted a little and a faint smile came over his usually stoic face. "What?"
"Well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I detect a note of forgiveness." Castiel explained. Shit, he seemed so hopeful.
"Yeah, well, I'm probably going to die tomorrow, so...." Dean shrugged and looked away.
"Well, I'll go with you." Cas said as though he had just made up his mind. "And I'll do my best."
Dean couldn't help but smile and nod. "Thanks."
Cas cleared his throat, his tone going businesslike once more. "So.... Can I ask the plan?" The only thing that betrayed his delight was the incessant fluttering of his wings. Dean couldn't stay mad at that.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Dean let out a yell and threw off the demon pinning him to the wall of the alleyway. A quick flick of the wrist and it's throat was one gaping wound. He didn't bother watching the demon fall, only fought to get closer to Castiel.
Castiel, his angel.
Castiel, who was struggling on the ground and screaming himself hoarse. A redheaded demon had him pinned down and her knees were pressed right into where Cas' wings met his shoulderblades. She was trying to keep him down, a blade flashing in her hand. It glinted red in the light of the streetlamp and Dean realised that the blood was from various points on Cas' wings.
Dean fucking ran at them, enraged. How dare they try to take something that was so fundamental to Cas? He grabbed the demon by the hair and yanked her off of Castiel's back, driving his own blade into her chest hard enough that it slid in all the way to the hilt and he couldn't pull it back out. With a snarl, he dropped her and looked around for the next demon-
Oh. That was the last one. The rest of them fled the scene the moment Dean had broken free of the other demon's grasp.
He knelt next to Cas and pressed a gentle hand to his back, trying to comfort him. The angel was gasping, his eyes wide and terrified and his wings hanging at awkward angles off his back. Those beautiful feathers were stained red, so red.
"Hey, Cas, it's gonna be okay, they're gone, it's okay." Dean heard himself babble while his brain worked out how to fix the wings. "It's okay, we can bandage you up and put your wings into splints, you'll heal up in no time-"
Cas seemed to freeze up, staring at Dean with a shocked, almost horrified expression on his face. Dean frowned. "Calm down, you're going to-"
"You can see my wings." Cas interrupted him, voice flat.
"Uh, yeah. They're kind of right there, man. Hard to miss." Dean gave Cas a look, wondering how much shock he was in. "C'mon, the motel is just a little ways away." He stood and helped Cas to his feet. The angel was shaky and Dean had to support him, but he made it to the motel without passing out, so that was a definite plus.
The angel was silent the entire way back.
Two hours later, Cas was sitting on a crappy motel bed, his wings carefully bound and bandaged so they would heal properly. He would only speak to Dean if he was doing something wrong. Other than that, Cas had completely withdrawn into himself.
Finally, Dean had enough of the silence. "Okay, what the hell is wrong with you? I save your ass from a demon and you freak out on me, not because I got you into another completely avoidable situation, but because of some bullshit about your wings? I don't get what the hell's up here, and I need an explanation before I decide to drink an entire liquor store."
Cas gave him a blank look for a moment, then sighed. "I was really hoping that it wouldn't be this way, Dean."
"Wow, that's not cryptic. Care to elaborate?" Dean snapped, arms crossed.
"I...." Cas sighed and rubbed his face, clearly struggling to find a way to explain. "Angel wings aren't.... aren't exactly available for public eye."
After a moment, Dean sat across from Cas. "Continue."
"Do not get angry. I was not the one to come up with the rules and I did not know that you...." Cas drifted for a moment, then sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "The only person that can see an angel's wings is their.... soulmate, if you will."
"Their soulmate?" Dean laughed. "What the hell kind of cliche crap is that?"
"Does it seem as though I know?" Cas seemed a bit hurt and Dean immediately felt bad for laughing. "Didn't you notice how no one else seemed to notice my wings? Surely people would have stared if they could."
"Well, yeah, I noticed. I just thought it was some angel magic or some shit."
"It is not."
"How did the demon slice and dice your wings, then?"
"She missed my face few times and managed to hit them. They are not exactly a small target. She figured out the dimensions and blindly stabbed and managed to hit more often than not." Castiel explained.
A pause. "....Soulmates, huh?"
"Yes." Cas confirmed, his face kept carefully blank.
"Alright. Let me ponder this and I'll get back to you."
"Of course. Take your time." And that was the end of it.
At least, it was the end of it until it wasn't.
Several months after the Incident (with a capital I), Cas was off on his own on some angelic mission and Dean could feel his absence like a hole in his existence. Sam noticed he was distracted and commented on it, then decided he would go investigate the most recent demon attack on his own. Just the usual fake FBI shit, nothing he couldn't handle, and so Dean had let him go.
He hadn't expected his hotel room to be overrun by the fuckers they were hunting. Why is it always demon attacks? Jesus.
Dean thought he was holding his own pretty well, until he took a bullet to his stabbing arm. Fuck if that didn't make things hard. He was bleeding pretty heavily and his movements were slowing more than he liked. A demon shoved him back and he slid down to the floor, unable to do anything but watch dizzily as the demon raised a knife above him.
He wondered how Cas would react to finding his body in some hotel.
A flutter of wings was the only warning available before all hell- no, all heaven broke loose. Dean saw a flash of brown wings before passing out.
He woke up to the smell of pie. Why would Sam be baking pie? He hated the stuff and hated Dean eating it.
Blearily, he opened his eyes and sat up, groaning when his arm sent a flash of pain through him. He heard footsteps and Cas was right there, a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Dean stared for a moment, trying to process what he was seeing.
The first thing Dean said was, "You baked a pie?"
Cas smiled and set the plate down, passing the glass to Dean and pressing a few pain relief capsules into his hand. "I save you from your imminent doom and I don't get a word of thanks? Though, I suppose I should not be surprised your first thought is pie. Yes, I made sure it's cherry."
Dean gratefully swallowed the pills and drained the glass. "Right." He cleared his throat. "Thanks for, y'know, not letting me die and shit. Greatly appreciated. Where's Sam?"
"Mopping up. I moved us to a different room, as the old one needed.... a bit of cleaning." Cas looked down at his feet awkwardly.
"Jesus, Cas, how much damage did you do?"
"Enough. I was rather angry and not in the correct state of mind." He shrugged. "I.... greatly disliked the thought of losing you, Dean."
The Winchester rolled his eyes. "It's not like I was intentionally trying to get my ass killed." He muttered.
"Regardless, Dean, I would rather you not die."
"Yeah, I would rather not die, either." Dean snapped, then shook his head. "Sorry."
"Don't apologise." Cas hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed. "I just. The thought of not having you around was not okay. It...." His eyebrows furrowed. "It sort of made my heart ache, though that is a completely irrational belief, as hearts cannot ache due to thoughts."
Dean slowly reached out and pulled Cas into a hug, startling the angel. "I know." He said into the angel's messy hair. "I get it. The thought of something happening to you and me not knowing for fuck knows how long...." He took a shaky breath. "Kinda makes me get achy, not gonna lie."
Cas pulled away, staring at Dean with that damn pensive look. "It does?"
"Yeah, well. If you tell anyone I will adamantly deny it and make sure that you coincidentally lose a few feathers there. But yes, it does."
The angel slowly nodded and, in a painfully slow way that Dean would label as 'shy', slid his hand into Dean's. "If- if you do not mind, I would rather try to keep the achy feeling from happening."
"Try to speak in a way I can understand, Cas." He had an idea where this was going.
That cute little furrow between Cas' eyebrows made an appearance as he thought hard about how to phrase things. "I would like to be able to stay closer to you than I would be able to as a friend and I also might want to be able to hug you and maybe hold your hand and stuff without worrying if I'm getting too touchy and weird. I would also like to understand the whole 'soulmates' thing properly." He finally admitted, avoiding Dean's gaze.
Dean smiled. "Around here, we call that being 'boyfriends', Cas." He took a breath, let it out, and nodded. "I think I'd like that, though."
Cas' head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait, really?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I get an overprotective angel as a personal bodyguard. Why not? If the cost is some hand-holding and maybe some time spent making out, well, who am I to say no?" Dean shrugged, trying not to laugh at the expression on Cas' face when it finally sank in.
"So that is a yes."
"Cas, you idiot, that was a blatant invitation for you to kiss me. Jesus, dude, you're dense." Dean grabbed that stupid tie (Cas still couldn't tie it properly, the moron) and pulled the angel, his angel, close enough for him to kiss.
Oh. So that's what 'soulmate' means.