Supernatural One-Shots

Wings - Dean

He gently stroked the soft white feathers on my left wing. I was laying on my stomach in a field of grass, letting the sun warm my back through my v-neck t-shirt. He was laying beside me, on his back, staring in awe at my wing. I’d told him maybe an hour previous that I was an angel.

“You’re a what?!”

“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you,” I pleaded with him.

He turned away, anger flashing in his bright blue eyes. He was fighting with himself, gripping at his hair with both hands and letting out a low growl. He’s not supposed to talk to me, much less like me. I just stood there and waited for him to say something. It felt like days before he finally turned back to face me. There was longing in his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“It doesn’t matter,” he breathed out.

“What?” I asked, surprised by his reaction.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re an angel. It doesn’t make a difference. I love you,” he said.

He shrugged his shoulders in a sort of helpless fashion, as if to say there was nothing he could do. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tightly. When I pulled back, I looked at him with a smirk.

“What?” he asked.

“Go ahead, ask,” I said.

“Can I see them?” he asked.

“Of course!” I unfurled my wings, letting them stretch out to each side of me.

The look on his face was priceless. It’s how I imagine he looked at the impala for the first time. It was almost child-like. So cute. I mean, it makes sense because he’s never really had an opportunity to study angel wings this close up before.

I watched him for a while before he looked at me. I smiled. He smiled. He leaned in and pecked me on the lips.

Perfect.