Work Text:
Dean stared at Castiel for the hundredth time that day. Ever since they all went on a hunt for a witch a few days ago (curses avoided), the angel had been...jumpy? Almost twitchy? Dean had no idea how to describe what Cas was doing. He kept shifting his shoulders up and down, back and forth erratically, like he was stretching. Dean tried his best to brush it off. Probably just some weird angel thing. He slid out of the torn diner booth, Sam immediately behind him.
"Cas, you coming back to the room?" Dean asked. Castiel jumped a bit, very distracted by a tear in the booth cushion where the yellow foam was visible. He just nodded in agreement with Dean, scooting out of the booth very cautiously.
After getting back to the small motel room, Sam announced that he was going "out" for the night and that he would be back later. Dean tossed Sam the keys to the Impala.
"I swear, if there is the slightest scratch or dent on my baby, you are buying me every pie we see for the next decade." He threatened. Sam nodded as always and left, leaving Dean to finally interrogate Cas.
"What's up with you?"
Castiel had been sitting on the bed opposite the hunter, meeting his eyes directly.
"I'm only stretching, Dean." He answered. Dean realized how little he had said today.
"Yeah, but why all of a sudden? I've never seen you 'stretch' other than recently."
"Hunting the witch ended up using more of my grace than I expected. It became increasingly difficult to contain my...wings in this vessel. I was forced to give my wings a physical form so my vessel wouldn't combust." Castiel broke eye contact, instead taking interest upon something on the floor. Dean struggled for a response, but couldn't think of a thing. Then on impulse:
"Could I see?" He asked blankly. It would probably be a no, that was a dumb-
"Yes." Cas stood and sat in front of the hunter and removed his coat, folding it neatly on the bed. Dean quietly watched as the angel unbuttoned the white dress shirt, revealing long, dark wings folded neatly along his back. They were an impossibly deep black-blue color, like the deepest, coldest section of the sea, and Dean wanted to dive in. He looked up for some kind of signal from Castiel, who nodded and gave one of his almost smiles. Dean stroked the feathers like he would a newborn kitten, and Castiel shuddered against his touch, sighing contently. Dean continued, smoothing feathers from different areas of Cas' wings and listening to his soft moans and sighs, which he was enjoying almost as much as Castiel. Cas flared his wings out, allowing the hunter more access.
"Dean..." He moaned, leaning back until he was essentially in Dean's lap. Again, their eyes met, brilliant emeralds and frigid sapphires, then suddenly their lips were pressed together, hot breaths mingling. Dean continued stroking and massaging the angels dark wings, now at the base where his wings and back met. Cas tasted rich and bold, like French pressed coffee, dancing warmly over Dean's tongue.
"D-Dean, I lo-"
"I know, Cas. I love you too." Dean smiled as Cas wrapped his wings around him, savoring his soft embrace.