Summary: Dean Winchester has a doctorate in Angelic Behavior and he decided what's better than to adopt his own? In a world where angels, demons, and humans coexist, Dean goes to an angel reserve to adopt his own, leading him to meet one of the oldest and rarest of their species—Castiel, a dominant angel who actually descended from heaven. Castiel is anything but eager to get adopted by such a "mud-monkey" as Dean Winchester, but Dean only wants to study the magnificent creature… Oh how wrong he was.
Warnings: dom!angel!cas, sub!human!dean, wing!kink, some non-con & dub-con; (nothing scheduled for this chapter, though)
Beta'd by Vanya Starwind! Big thank you to the speed-reading goddess!
Dean Winchester, freshly twenty-four, is a bright young man. He's been out of college for over a year and unfortunately still working hard to pay back his school debt. He graduated with a bachelor's degree of science in genetics and a doctorate in Angelic Behavior.
In a world where angels, demons, and humans can all coexist in harmony, it's quite the accomplishment to Dean. Plus, chicks dig it. Like, they are really into it.
So why was he in his '67 Chevy Impala making his way up a wet slick paved road to an angel reserve in the middle of Idaho when he could be back in his newly bought San Francisco apartment curled up with a book or possibly working? God only knows how much he owed for those textbooks and Dean honestly didn't even want to think about how much Sam's Stanford education was going to cost next year.
He parked in a small parking lot as the road was blocked to any one other than officials of the site. Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and slammed the car door behind him, getting out of his gorgeous black muscle car and stepping into the drizzle outside.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, Dean hurried up the steps that led to the administrative building on the top of the hill. With in two minutes, he had trekked all the way to the top without a sweat. Finally, he felt thankful for putting in so many hours working at his uncle Bobby's ranch and hanging out with his exercise addict brother, Sam.
Pushing open the door, a rush of warm air blew right in Dean's face. He welcomed it and approached the woman sitting at the front desk. "Hello?" she said, more of a question than a welcoming statement and Dean cocked a brow.
"I'm Dean Winchester. I have an appointment with Chuck Shurely?" he said and the girl with short brown hair turned to her fancy computer and started typing in some keywords. She nodded and turned to the phone on the receiver by her computer. She punched in a couple numbers before holding it up to her ear and waiting a mere second.
"Yes, I have a Dean Winchester waiting here. Yes. Fantastic." She ended the call and turned towards an awaiting Dean and smiled warmly. "Mr. Shurley will be down in a couple minutes. Why don't you go warm up in the reception room; my name is Ava Wilson and feel free to ask me any questions you have."
Dean nodded with a curt smile and then turned toward the spacious room that had plush white couches and a glass coffee table that had a variety of recent magazines spread out.
Looking around for a moment, Dean saw a worker here and there, but really there was no one else. He wondered if it was just because it was eight am on a Tuesday morning that there were no visitors or if this place was just generally not a tourist attraction.
Dean looked up and busted out his thoughts to meet eyes with a short, curly haired man. He smiled hesitantly and stuck his arm out to meet Dean's hand. "I'm Chuck Shurley. If you're ready we could go talk?"
The guy kind of came off as an ex-meth addict, but Dean shrugged and followed him out of the warm building and towards the main gates that led to the actual facility. They entered through a side door as Chuck had the correct keys since it didn't seem like the place was actually open yet.
"I know what you're thinking. Not many people, huh?"
Dean agreed with a grunt.
"Well, reserves like this are frowned upon. To me, that is, in my opinion and my coworkers', this place is a successfully executed site where angels and demons alike can come to seek shelter and accommodations. But to others, they see this place as a kind of zoo."
Dean furrowed his brows. He had never really thought about it like that before, but in a sense, it was true. The creatures here, demons and angels, were technically caged because they were potentially dangerous to humans.
"Sorry, I kinda just had to vent that to someone, it was getting on my nerves," he said, scratching his arm and leading Dean down the concrete path towards more buildings. "So you graduated with a doctorate in Angelic behavior?" he asked curiously.
"Yeah, I did," Dean said, realizing this was the first thing he had replied to Chuck's nervous rambling since he met him. "It's always been a passion of mine, other worldly creatures."
"I'm glad you feel that way, they're becoming an old art that humans as a whole are becoming less concerned about. As you know, some can be vicious because they fear us and can lash out and even kill us. It's happened many times by now, I've read it all in the New York Times."
Now the cages were in view. They were honestly nothing like the ones at zoos, though. These here had thick, lead like, metal bars that stretched from the ground to twenty five, maybe thirty feet in the air, giving the residents plenty of room to move around in. In some enclosures, there were actually trees and plains inside of them with one to five other angels inside.
Almost immediately, Dean noticed that demons and Angels were separated. It made sense; the two species haven't always been good neighbors.
Dean continued on, the creatures alike stopping what they were doing and walking over to the bars and watching Dean and Chuck walk by with curiosity. They talked to each other, too. Most had high-pitched voices, which led Dean to believe they were younger (despite their appearance—angels were born like humans but grew to their adolescence appearance in around five years and sometimes stayed like that until they got into their early seventies).
Chuck and Dean made it past the majority of angel cages and then into the demon area. "Um, Chuck, I'm more interested in looking at the angels—"
"I know, Mr. Winchester. There's one in particular that I think you would be quite taken with if you would be patient," he said and kept walking. Dean made eye contact with a few of the demons hanging on curiously to their bars. They had long, some on the smaller scale of five feet wingspan to around eight feet. They were all various states and colour—most a dark brown and black or maroon and thick and leathery. They all had big sneers on their faces and glared at Dean for being an outsider. They too talked among themselves, whispering words while staring at him.
Finally after they passed the lot of the demons, they were coming to the end of the line of the reserve property, seeing as a large forest began in about a quarter mile on all sides of the place.
There were less and less creatures now in enclosures—three here, two there—and Chuck explained that these were the more difficult to deal with ones. Finally, the two men came to a stop in front of an angel enclosure. Chuck put his hand on the bar and whistled.
The giant redwood trees shook and long black wings became visible as the leaves and branches shuddered as if there were some kind of storm inside the cage. A body flew into view and landed on the grassy ground and in a graceful leap he was right before Chuck and Dean, nuzzling his head and purring like a cat against Chuck's hand on the bar.
"Cas-tee-ell, there's someone I would like you to meet," the potential ex-meth head said in a soft voice as to not stir the creature. But to Dean, he was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen. With a wingspan that easily spread nine feet and in the most beautiful colour of ebony black, the angel Castiel was beautiful. His face was toned with high cheekbones and electric blue eyes and dark brows with hair to match. He stood cloth less except a mere pair of loose tan loincloth skirt hanging off his thick hips. Castiel stood as tall as Dean with muscles to be jealous of and long legs that went on for days.
"Another mud-monkey?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. Dean cocked a brow and pursed his lips.
Chuck blushed and shook his head. "No, Castiel, this is Dean Winchester. He is very, hmm, interested in Angelic creatures. He studies them in school." At this the angel Castiel made a small nod and looked over towards the dirty blond man. "Remember not to judge a book by its cover," Chuck spoke slowly.
Opening the small barred door, Chuck stepped in and led Dean in carefully behind him.
"Do not attack Dean," Chuck said in a stern voice and all Castiel could do was shoot Dean with a steely glare and not move. "As you can see, Castiel is just about the rarest of the rare; not just because he loves cuddles, but because he is a male dominant angel that is a—"
"Descendant from heaven," Dean finished for Chuck. He knew enough that the tattoo he had branded into his upper left pectoral was an ancient Enochian symbol that warrior angels got from God himself.
Dean didn't realize he had gotten so close to the angel that he was knocked out of his reverie when he felt hot breath on his nose. He looked up and met eyes with curious though cocky azure blue eyes. It was the most beautiful blue Dean had ever seen.
"Yes. We found him around three years ago in eastern Russia among a commune of other angels."
This was just too cool to be true for Dean. He would be extremely excited to study and observe this angel.
"I have the forms if you wish to adopt…" Chuck began, a genuine smile forming over his chapped lips.
Castiel didn't speak but in that moment he looked like he wanted to when Dean turned from Chuck back to the angel.
"If it's alright with Castiel," Dean said trying to cover up a nervous blush by clearing his throat.
Castiel cocked his head to the side in a childish manner and it made Dean wonder how old the angel was. He appeared to be approximately twenty-eight with the bags that hung under his eyes and the wild mess that was his hair.
Both humans turned to Castiel who looked choked up. "The mud-monkey wishes to have my permission…?"
Dean looked about ready to rip the angel a new one when being called yet again a 'mud-monkey' when it reached out and pressed a tense hand to Dean's chest, over his heart.
His face turned passive and he seemed to have a distant look like he was very into a book he was reading. "Your heart is pure. I accept."
"Just a few routine questions," the new man insured.
"Yeah, anything," Dean offered, taking a seat in the office. The man was tall with a permanent glare.
"My name is Dr. Gordon Aleksander. I would first like to ask if you have any committed any previous felonies? Any other—"
"No, and no." honestly, Dean was a little tired and he was anything but excited to hit the road for eight or so hours back to California.
Gordon looked at Dean with a perplexed expression. "Problem? Just answer the question." Dean wasn't sure he liked his attitude.
Dean didn't actually know the correct answer. He had broken up with his long-term girlfriend Lisa Braeden over five months ago and since then there had been multiple one-night stand partners. Female and male.
"Bisexual?" Dean returned finally after a while of mulling it over.
Gordon wrote something down and nodded. He asked a few more insignificant questions that Dean answered with ease and then it all ceased and Dean was released to Chuck and a couple other men that were standing cautiously around an extremely pissed Castiel.
Now he had changed into a pair of gray sweatpants that hung loosely from those hips and a white tee shirt. From the front, that was what it looked like, but upon closer inspection, Dean saw that there was no back, just strings that tied together three times in the back; once above where his wings protruded from his body, another tie under them, and another on his lower back.
"And here he is, your very own Castiel Winchester," a woman with long red hair said with confidence. A warm smile eased onto her face as she extended Castiel's arm out to meet with Dean's hand and when they touched, something like an electric shock ran up Dean's arm.
Dean nodded, smiling at the angry beast. Castiel was also helped in loading into Dean's car, and the dirty blond haired man watched with worry as his long black wings went in, one at a time. He wasn't nervous as much about feathers falling as he was about Castiel's long claw like nails digging into the leather upholstery.
Dean slid into his own seat and glanced at the angel before sticking the keys in and revving the engine.
"You comfy?" he asks.
"No?" Castiel replies in more of a question than anything.
"Good. 'Cause we'll be on the road for quite a while, Cas."
The angel had eventually fallen into a very deep sleep (which Dean saw as a sign from heaven because he could turn his music up loud and not stir the man) and what with Dean's four hour rule, he didn't need to sleep until they got home around the wee hours of the morning. Castiel awoke with a start when they stopped in front of Dean's apartment at two.
"This is my place, Cas." Dean turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. He opened the back door to pull out his duffle bag since on the way over he had to stay at a motel, but there was also a smaller duffle bag that Chuck had packed for Castiel that he had to grab and hoist over his shoulder. The angel exited out of car with little struggle, glaring at Dean for not helping him. "My bad."
"You're correct," he responded, grumpily walking around the car to stand in front of him. Dean kinda half nodded and half smiled… This dude was weird. And unnecessarily angry.
After walking up flights and flights of stairs to show to Cas which floor was his, Dean had to squirm his way past the brick wall that was Castiel to push the keys into his apartment door. The door opened and a woosh of cold wind blew inside. "Shit," Dean murmured. He had left the window open for the past two days. He cautiously looked around to see if he had all of his valuable items like his computer and such.
"Is there a problem?" Dean immediately turned his attention to the stiff angel in the doorway and shook his head profusely.
"No, no I just left the window open is all." He turned and looked around. "Michael!?"
A dark brown coloured kitten came bounding from the doorway and right to Dean's feet where the dirty blond man leaned down and scooped him up. It turned to Castiel as if noticing him for the first time and hissed.
"Shh, Mike, it's okay."
"You have named your feline after my brother," Castiel stated, crossing his arms and glaring at the thing.
The cat was small but nothing if not agile. With it's dark brown hair and large golden eyes, it looked like something out of a spooky story. Michael continued to hiss at the brooding angel but Dean pulled him away and into a guest bedroom, filling up his food and water dish and placing them in there as well.
Dean clapped his hands together and looked at Castiel. "Okay. What can I do to help ease that stick out of your ass?"
Castiel didn't look happy at that comment.
"Bedroom? Need to use the bathroom for a shower? I know I do." Dean opened the fridge and pulled out some pasta from a couple days ago and nuked it in the microwave.
Dean pulled his leather jacket off and hung it on the back of one of the stools next to the counter. He pulled the Italian food out of the microwave when it was done and looked up, noticing Castiel's obvious discomfort.
"Are you hungry? What do they normally feed you?" Dean asked.
Castiel walked around and set his eyes on the couch in the living room. Dean watched him walk away and got out of his chair in a hurry to see what the curious angel was up to. To the dirty blond man's utmost surprise, Castiel yanked the waistband of his sweats down past his balls and took his thick cock in hand and pointed it at the floor beside the couch.
"No!" Dean screamed and ran over to him. "Oh hell no, Cas!"
Castiel didn't get the chance to piss or whatever he was planning on doing because Dean grabbed the waistband and pulled it up over the beautiful external organ. "Problem, Dean?"
Dean's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Problem? Yes there is a problem! You are not a dog and I know that you do not need to be potty trained. You know what a toilet is, don't you?"
"Yes, I've used them on special occasions," he said, still looking slightly perplexed and annoyed that Dean's hand was still touching his pants.
"Well, man, from now on, you pee or do your business in the toilet. Not on my furniture, not the bed, nowhere else but in the bathroom, in the toilet. We clear?" Dean said, feeling good about himself for exerting his dominance over the clearly dominating angel. In fact, he felt sure that Cas could twist his arm around his back and break it in a matter of moments.
But the angel cooled down and pushed past Dean, down the hall and checked the door to the right and found the forest green bathroom.
Sighing heavily, Dean plopped down into a chair and began to eat his cooling pasta. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. This was going to be harder than he originally thought.
"Alright, bud. Sleepy time now."
"I don't require sleep." After cleaning up the bathroom for the last fifteen minutes, Dean was a little done with the angel. He hadn't known how to aim so he ended up missing almost completely, leaving Dean with a huge mess to sop up on his hands and knees, shouting, "We sit when we use the toilet from now on, Goddamn it!"
"Alright, then just hang out in the guest room for the night. There's a TV in there so knock yourself out," he said, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. When he turned around, Castiel was already out of the room and padding down the hall. Dean decided this was an opportune chance for privacy to take a shower.
Coming out fifteen minutes later, it was around three am and by God time to go to fucking sleep. Dean walked into his room wearing only a pair of black sweats and paused in his doorway.
There were gigantic wings draped over his bed and the floor. One of Castiel's arms drooped lazily off the side of the queen sized bed and his other under the protection of a feathered black wing. His head was facing Dean, his lips parted and the tips of his front teeth visible. He was out cold obviously and the man in the doorway wondered if he should have force-fed him before he went to sleep. "Fuck me," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and leaving the doorway.
Dean sighed and pulled a clean white tee out of his dresser, turning around and leaving the room to walk down the hall to enter the guest room. Michael was curled up in the middle of the twin bed in there, but lifted his head to watch his master enter. He mewled tiredly and Dean had to scoop him up to move him out of the way when he slid in under the covers.
"Night, Mike." The cat purred in response against his chest.