Wing fic!

[butterflydreaming]

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean Winchester+Castiel
Rating: Gen/PG, WAFF
Word Count: 1182
Title: "As real as the feelings I feel"

Sam sets the pizzas down on the kitchen table just as Dean comes in, heading for a beer. When his head pops back out of the fridge, he tosses a bottle toward Sam, who catches it one-handed. Dean is carrying the other two bottles by their necks, between his fingers. Flipping open the B&E boxes to inspect their contents, Dean comments, “All meat. That’s more like it.”

“I got a salad for myself,” Sam says. He opens the brown paperboard box and digs in.

“Your loss. We’re just starting the movie, you comin’?”

Sam crunches another colorful bite of salad. “I’m heading to that chapter house to go through the rest of the library. It’s a milk run, there and back in a few hours. You and Cas enjoy your chick flick."

Dean takes the pizzas, shaking his head. “It’s Princess Bride, dude,” he states, on his way out the door.

Cas was studying the outer box of the blue ray when Dean left the Dean-cave, but when Dean walks in, he finds Cas sitting cross-legged on one armchair recliner, surrounded by a grey shadow that stops Dean in his tracks: Cas's wings, visible. Dean carefully walks around him and delivers the food and drinks to the wood table. He opens a beer and grabs a slice of Supreme. One of Cas’s ragged wings partially covers the second recliner, so Dean leans against the table. He is trying not to make a big deal about Cas’s wings being out.

Methodically, Cas is tending his wings. He slides fingers over the feathers that are still there, straightening barbs and smoothing vanes. He looks up from his preening and briefly makes eye contact before his eyes move away. He knows his wings are ugly, now. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, hoping for an accommodating tone. “I can --”

“You’re fine,” Dean interrupts. He used to have scars of his own, before Cas healed them all and then with healing wounds after. Dean steps between the recliners and sits on the arm of the one Cas is in. "Sam's out," he adds, an afterthought. "Doin' nerd stuff for a few."

Cas eases back in the chair until he is touching Dean, back against Dean’s hip, head against Dean’s ribs. Dean hands down the open beer and Cas takes it. He drinks from the bottle. There is a slight taste of Dean on the glass lip, from Dean’s lips. He passes the cold bottle back up to Dean so Dean can wash down the last bites of his pizza. Cas glances up to watch Dean licking his fingers.

“Do they hurt?” Dean asks.

“Not in the way you might think,” Cas confesses.

Dean nods. “You want some molecules? The other one has bacon.”

“I don’t need any pizza. Thank you.” He pulls his wings in, slightly, as he moves forward again. “The movie is in. I’ll let you eat.”

“As you wish.” Dean retrieves one entire pizza box before he returns. He’s careful as he takes the other seat, because even though Cas is less spread out, the tip of one wing, as long as Dean’s arm, still presses against the footrest. Dean slides his legs under. He props the pizza box on his lap, thinks better of it, and moves it to the floor beside the armchair. He picks up the remote and starts the movie.

By the time Westley’s ship is captured by pirates, Cas’s interest has moved completely from his wing grooming to the story on the screen. Dean has watched The Princess Bride so many times, he can quote it beginning to end. This is Cas’s first time, and Dean is watching Cas more than the movie, watching his reactions.

After the as you wish line is explained, the tip of Cas’s wing slides up and comes to rest across Dean’s ankles.

Cas’s wings express his excitement at the sword fight between the masked man and Inigo, delight when the man defeats the Sicilian, tension at the torture scene. Dean reaches out to touch Cas then; he places his hand against Cas’s wing. His fingertips stroke the shadowy feathers lightly, from alula to primaries. His wings are there and not there, they feel the way daylight through a window feels, they feel like a mild electrical shock, and the feeling gives Dean the rush a small pain signal -- like a minor burn or quick cut -- would. The feeling is a danger alert, but he kind of likes it, the flash of hot-cold running through his nervous system.

Cas shifts in his seat at the feeling of Dean's warm skin traveling over the damage of singed wing and across Cas's feathers, where Dean's touch creates vibration. Dean stops touching. Cas is sorry he moved, because he likes Dean's touches, especially on this part where Castiel is not contained in his vessel. His wings are not scarred by the ejection from heaven the way flesh would be scarred from trauma. There are low energy zones between the feathers that survived Metatron's spell, but he can feel Dean's fingers clearly, Dean's bioelectricity interfering with Cas's grace. "You don't," Cas says softly, "have to stop." On the screen, the heroes plan to rescue Buttercup, while she despairs, unknowing.

The breath that huffs out of Dean escapes without Dean intending his reaction to be so audible. He motors through his embarrassment. He sits up, legs dropping to either side of the recliner that is both more sturdy and more comfortable than it looks. He pats the cushion in front of him. "Come on over," he says, as if it's no big deal.

Cas thrills at the invitation and, widely smiling because he couldn't hold back even if he wanted to, leaves his chair to join Dean. When they settle in the armchair together, Cas is nestled against Dean's chest, and one of Dean's legs, bent at the knee, presses against Cas's side and serves as an armrest. Dean adjusts their positions with a hand on Cas's waist, but then his hands go to work on the tops and backs of Cas's wings.

Dean tries to copy what Cas was doing, straightening feathers. He soon becomes distracted, just stroking thumbs over vanes. He puts his chin on Cas's shoulder, and they both watch the movie, laughing, but Dean's fingers never stop moving, though at the moment before the final screen kiss, his palms have come to rest on the tops of Cas's thighs.

In his peripheral vision, Cas sees that Dean has closed his eyes.

And then, just as in the movie, the moment is broken by narrative interruption. Dean's eyes open. He leans back and draws back his hands.

Buttercup and Westley kiss. Cas is watching the movie's ending, but his attention is for Dean. They sit without speaking, without moving, while credits roll.

"Double feature?" Dean asks, finally. "Unbreakable?"

"As you wish," Cas answers.