Generally when Castiel deigned to appear it was with nothing more than a faint flutter of wings and there he was, powerful and serene and standing way too close.

This was not one of those times. Dean woke from a fitful sleep when he heard the sound of wings and opened his eyes just in time to see Cas crash down in the corner, knocking over the hideous motel lamp in the process. His legs buckled and he seemed to be using pure willpower to keep himself from collapsing to the floor in an ungraceful heap. He took a step forward and braced himself against the windowsill, his face drawn and white.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean said slowly, leaning up on his elbows and ready to jump and catch him if it looked like he was actually going to fall.

Castiel nodded, an obvious lie and even he seemed to realize it. "I took an injury," he forced out through his teeth.

Dean couldn't see any obvious signs of blood. Castiel made his way over and Dean grabbed him by one arm before he face-planted right on the bed. "Where are you hurt, Cas?" he said, helping Castiel lower himself down.

"Nowhere you can see," he answered, the words muffled against the pillow.

Dean thought for a second, then came to the obvious conclusion. Wings. Right. "Let me see."

Castiel shook his head. "It would damage you." He groaned, one hand clenching into a fist.

"Then make it so it doesn't damage me." Dean rubbed his back, feeling the tense, bunched muscles. "C'mon, man. It sucks seeing you like this. Let me help."

"I could..." He looked up at Dean. "I could perhaps manifest an approximation."

"Great. What you just said. Do it."

Cas' lips quirked up for a moment, then he rolled over painfully onto his side. "Help me with this," he said, gesturing at his shirt and coat.

Dean eased him out of trenchcoat and suit jacket, trying to ignore how Cas winced with each movement. He undid the tie and carefully worked his shirt buttons, conscious of Castiel looking at him with undisguised gratitude, with maybe just a hint of embarrassment that he needed help with something so simple. Dean had the sudden thought of how weirdly intimate all this was, undressing him this way, and smothered it down before Castiel could see it on his face (because Jesus, where had that thought even come from?)

The dress shirt was discarded on the floor with the rest and Cas stretched back out on his stomach. "You should sit back a bit," he said. Dean scooted back on the bed and Castiel closed his eyes, letting out a long, deep sigh. Dean saw the air start to warp around him, like heat lines distorting the air on a summer day, then saw shadows begin to flicker. Dean blinked and the wings were suddenly there.

For a second Dean couldn't breathe because holy crap, actual angel with actual wings just lying in his bed. The wings were a lustrous, midnight black; when Dean ran his fingers through the smooth feathers he saw the light pick out iridescent blues and golds. "Thought they'd be white," Dean said, realizing as soon as the words were out how dumb that sounded but his brain just wasn't working at the moment.

Castiel craned his neck, looking at his outstretched wing curiously, as if he'd never seen it before - and Dean realized he probably hadn't, not looking like this. "It's representative of my journey to the Pit," he said. "My wings were...singed, you might say."

"Oh." The guilt was enormous, hot shame spreading over Dean's skin. He'd never known Cas had been scarred by dragging him out of Hell. "Jesus. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Cas said, glancing at Dean over his shoulder, an almost amused glint in his eye. "It was considered of mark of honor at the time. I received many compliments."

Dean chuckled; he should have guessed Castiel would be vain about his wings. The wing twitched in response to Dean's touch, the movement too sudden; Cas hissed out a breath, his face creased with pain and Dean remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Dean found the wound quickly, an in-and-out stab through the thick muscle halfway to the joint. Cas whimpered when Dean touched too close to the injury and Dean made soothing noises, keeping his touch gentle as he assessed the severity. Fortunately, the bleeding had already mostly stopped and it looked like the sword had missed bone. "Looks like you need a couple of stitches," he said and Cas groaned, burying his face in the pillow.

Dean grinned, ruffling Castiel's hair as he stood up to get the battered med kit he and Sam practically lived out of. "Buck up, you big baby. You have any idea how many stitches I've had?"

"Two hundred eighty-three," came the muttered reply as Dean sat back on the bed.

"Smart ass." These feathers were even softer than the ones further down his wing, like fine down, and Dean smoothed them out of the way so he could have the best possible look. "Wish Sam was here," he said; Sam was holed up at the college library researching their current hunt and Dean knew he wouldn't leave that geek heaven for hours. "He's always been better at this than me."

"You'll do fine, Dean," Cas said, looking up at Dean with such complete trust that Dean felt his stomach lurch. "Thank you."

Nothing like a little pressure. Dean willed his hands to knock off their uncharacteristic shaking along with banishing any and all thoughts about how Castiel was letting him get his filthy hands all over his precious wings (seriously, what was wrong with him today?).

Dean calmed down once he started in with the mechanics of stitching up the wound, something he'd done seemingly thousands of times over his life. Even so, Dean was relieved when placed the last stitch; fixing up a wing was a new one for him.

Not as relieved as Cas, obviously; the sound of his pained breathing had been hard to deal with as he'd worked. "Almost done, Cas. Promise. You're doing real good." Castiel nodded, his lips a thin line as Dean finished bandaging him. Dean got some warm water and what passed for a clean towel in that rat-trap of a motel room and started carefully clearing away the blood matted into the dark feathers. After a few minutes he felt Castiel begin to relax, his breathing soft and deep. Dean finished up and put the water aside, smoothing down the ruffled feathers. He felt Castiel shiver. "You okay, buddy?"

Cas nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "That...feels nice."

Dean chuckled. "Good." He cautiously stroked one hand through the soft feathers at the top the wing; Cas quivered at the touch and Dean stopped himself. "It's okay that I do this?"

He heard Cas huff out a breath. "Yes, Dean," he said, sounding amused. "You're allowed to touch me."

Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks. It sounded strange when he put it like that. Still, now that he actually had permission...

He stroked his fingertips along the entire length of the uninjured wing, feeling the coiled muscle just under his skin. Cas sighed and Dean took that as a sign to keep going, massaging gently until Castiel went loose and pliant under his hands. "Oh. That's...that's very good," Cas said, sounding oddly breathless.

"You sure you're okay?"

Cas nodded. "Our wings are...sensitive."

Dean glanced over and saw Castiel lying there with his eyes hooded, his face flushed and lips parted, almost like...

Oh. Oh.

Dean felt like they'd just vaulted over a line he hadn't even known was there.

So, obviously he should stop. No harm, no foul, he hadn't known. No need to make this whole "friends with an angel" thing any weirder than it frankly already was.

And Dean totally would have stopped - except for that soft whimper of disappointment Castiel let out when Dean made to move his hand away. Or how when he trailed his fingers back down the wing Cas arched into the touch like an enormous winged cat. Or finally, how when Dean massaged the powerful cords of muscle at the base of the wings Cas moaned, one hand clenching into the pillow.

Dean knew what he was doing now, knew this was stepping way over the line but God, did he want to hear Castiel make that sound again.

He worked his way up each wing, savoring each moan and twitch his hands pulled out of Cas. He hit an especially sensitive spot and Cas' whole body arched against Dean's, his breathing going ragged and his wings flaring out, the light bringing out the iridescent colors, almost like they were glowing. "Hey," Dean said, leaning over him, "careful you don't pull your stitches. I put a lot of work into those." Cas nodded, breathing so hard he couldn't speak for a moment. "Dean," he finally gasped out, "just like that, don't stop, please."

Dean didn't know he could get this hard. He kissed Cas' wing, right in that same spot and Castiel let out another shuddering moan. He kissed his way back down the wing, Cas' reaction heightening with each touch until he was writhing beneath Dean. Dean levered himself forward and kissed Cas' lips, feeling himself get even harder when Castiel leaned up into the kiss, opening his mouth to it. Dean felt himself shiver when Cas began kissing him back, his tongue exploring Dean and God, Dean thought he could come just like this. Finally Cas broke the kiss and fell back against the pillow, staring up at Dean, his blue eyes bright with arousal and Dean didn't think he'd ever seen such naked need in someone's eyes before.

Jesus, he's beautiful. The thought caught Dean off-guard but he'd be damned if it wasn't true.

He scraped his fingernails down one wing, very lightly, and the reaction was immediate, Cas' head tossing on the pillow as he gasped out something Dean was positive wasn't even English. Dean slid one hand beneath Cas, fumbling with the button on his dress pants and God, he needed another set of hands. He finally managed to rid Castiel of his remaining clothes, shucked off the T-shirt and boxers he'd been sleeping in and pressed back against him, Cas' skin so hot against his own it was almost like he had a fever. He kissed down Cas' spine, feeling each gasp and moan vibrating up through his lips. Dean snaked his hand back under Cas and wrapped his fingers around his cock, sliding his fingers down the length of his shaft. Cas let out a strangled, surprised cry, looking back at Dean with eyes wide with wonder, as if Dean was performing some incredible act of magic and Dean remembered that Castiel had never actually done this before. "You want me to stop at any point you tell me, you understand?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. No, don't stop. Want this." He locked eyes with Dean. "Want you. Dean, please, I..." The words broke into a long, needy moan and Dean didn't need any more convincing, pushing himself to his knees behind Cas.

He wished he had proper lube - Cas' first time, and all - but he'd done this with girls before just using spit and knew it could work. When he was ready he pressed against Cas. "Relax now, okay? Just relax," he whispered, not sure which of them he was trying to calm down.

He pressed in the first inch and Cas responded immediately, letting out a soft, breathy moan. Cas thrust into Dean's hand and Dean chuckled, putting both hands on Cas' hips to hold him still. "Hey, don't get ahead of me here." Dean slid inside inch by inch, Cas' impatient whimpers just adding to the desperate heat low in his belly. When he was completely inside he took a moment to gather himself, trailing his fingers down Cas' back, across his hips, as far along his wings as he could reach.

Then he started to move.

Cas bucked against him immediately, that first moan ripping out of him. Dean wrapped his hand back around Cas' cock, easing him into a steady rhythm. The heat of him was incredible; Dean shuddered against the hot, tight pressure sheathing him, not sure how he was going to hold out against this. Cas started murmuring in Enochian, his voice wrecked. Dean didn't know the words but kept hearing his name mixed in, repeated over and over like a litany, Dean, Dean, Dean.

He realized with a start that Cas' wings actually were glowing, golden light gilding the edges of each black feather. Castiel was beyond words now, letting out a deep, ragged moan each time Dean moved. The glow brightened by the second, until Dean knew he should close his eyes against it but damned if he was going to. He felt Cas trembling on the edge and picked up the pace. "Let go, Cas," he whispered. "I got you, I got you, just let go." Cas shuddered once more, then finally came with a soft, jagged cry, wetness spilling over Dean's hand. At the same time the light from his wings exploded outwards, a second kind of release, and Dean caught an instantaneous glimpse of the wings' true form before finally shutting his eyes.

If he'd had trouble holding out before it was impossible now, not with the force of Cas' own orgasm constricting so tight around him. He came with a sharp moan, his arms tight around Cas, then collapsed on top of him, the two of them lying there gasping in a tangled heap. Dean felt Cas' hand fumble for him and pulled him close, letting Cas' lips rest against the curve of his neck. He knew he should clean up but before he could even move Castiel sensed his intention, leaning up one elbow and kissing Dean so hard he felt light-headed. He broke the kiss and gave Dean a look that didn't need words: You're staying right here.

Dean gave in with a sleepy smile; he wasn't sure his legs would have supported him anyway. Cas curled back around him; when Dean shivered as the sweat on his skin cooled Castiel draped one dark wing over him, warm and soft and Dean didn't think he'd ever been this comfortable in his life.

Dean fell asleep with Cas' breath warm against his skin, Cas' blue eyes staring up at him with an emotion it scared Dean to even think about naming.

And if Castiel wanted to spend all night watching him sleep, just this once Dean was completely cool with it.