Destiel Imagines

3. wing fluff

"Hellhound?" asked Cas as he pulled a gun out of the trunk of the Impala.

"Hellhound," confirmed Dean, standing beside his angel boyfriend and reaching for a pair of holy-oil glasses. Cas didn't need any; he could see the hell hounds without them. Dean slipped them on and grabbed a knife, then turned to Cas. "Holy-" He stumbled back in shock. "Cas!"

Cas looked at him, perturbed. "Dean?"

Stunned, Dean stared. "Son of a bitch," he whispered. "C-Cas. Your wings..."

He'd never even suspected that the glasses might also make angels' wings visible, but now he realized that it made perfect sense. They'd cleansed the glass with holy oil, after all. "They're beautiful."

Cas's wings were enormous, spreading out like black shrouds in the fading light of dusk. Dean turned slowly, squinting his eyes at the soft feathers of the wing nearest to him. "Can I...?"

Cas nodded, his blue eyes full of wonder. Dean reached out and stroked the angel's wing, caressing the midnight black feathers. They were so soft - silky and airy, like a chick's baby fluff. "They're amazing," Dean breathed.

"I-I didn't think you'd like them. They're not very large - Gabriel's are far more majestic -"

"Hey," said Dean, giving him a serious look. "Gabe may be Sam's boyfriend but you're mine, and I say that your wings are the best." Running his fingers through the feathers, he walked to Cas and kissed him on the cheek. "I love them, Cas."

Cas blushed, bowing his head. Then they set out together and killed that goddamned son of a bitch. Dean only cuddled Cas's wings twice during the drive home - or maybe three times. All right, let's be honest, he hugged them tight and buried his face in them the whole way back to the bunker. Cas had a feeling he was going get used to Dean in glasses.