#if he's kind and patient with dean's anger in late spn it's because HE KNOWS WHAT THAT'S LIKE

[alaynestone]

not to be overly applying real life concepts to a silly cw show lol but there's also something very perfect-victimy about the way people dismiss dean's victimhood vs sam's. like because dean's sarcastic or represses a lot of emotion or something people dismiss the things he went through. like obviously HE wants to forget about it and pretend it didn't happen, that's the point! but why are so many people dumb enough to hop right on board with that and literally erase/ignore things that happened to dean in the show (oftentimes in favor of pretending they happened to sam instead lol)... idk it's just a very weird thing that makes me feel protective of dean's character and what he represents in a way i don't usually with fictional characters. i love sam too but some of the samgirls or whatever take on a very cutting and aggressive tone that's slightly upsetting sometimes ngl. it just feels weirdly personal, not even at dean as much as like. anyone who dares to relate to dean as a character

i happen to think this "silly cw show" is actually far better at depicting complex trauma than people give it credit for.

but yeah, you are spot on here. it's absolutely about creating a perfect victim in sam and hyperfocusing on that while throwing nuance and context out the window entirely. even going all the way back to their childhood where dean is held fully responsible for the ways he responded to john's abuse by adapting rather than rebelling. dean is either considered responsible for his own situation or not a victim at all. he "liked" it, he perpetuated the "cycle", he was a lost cause, he was inferior to sam (and people loooove being classist about this, they think they're comedians) etc. which of course is NOT AT ALL the narrative presented to us by the show and erases the fascinating ways the brothers' arcs were paralleled throughout the seasons. for example, in season 2 you have dean only starting to confront the million ways john messed him up when he's not around anymore, just as sam is confronting his own destiny. the show explicitly links these two things yet dean is somehow generally viewed as the brother who's in charge of his own life. dean, who was controlled by his father until he was 27 and already in 1x11 admitting to sam that he admired him for making his own choices. i can't stress enough how "the one and only victim sam who completely lacks autonomy" is a fandom invention. and for what?

what you said about feeling protective of dean i think has always been part of his appeal. sam always had dean looking out for him, dean had no one. sam, even at his lowest, fundamentally valued himself and his own personhood, dean could never afford to because the survival of his family was up to him. he never coddled himself or let himself off the hook for a single perceived failure and i'm supposed to pile on? nah. his anger is so explosive in later seasons because he was never free to express his own feelings growing up and go through the regular stages teenagers and young adults do. i think there's a big effort to erase these nuances because if the actual story is taken into account, then it's impossible to forget how much dean went through so sam wouldn't have to. that sadly also ignores the impact it had on their relationship with dean's buried resentment towards sam, as well as sam's guilt for not always being there for dean in return. nearly every terrible traumatic thing sam experienced over the duration of the show is something dean had experienced already. at my most cynical, i think the purpose of reframing dean as this all powerful oppressor is because sam can only win the trauma olympics if dean is no longer vulnerable at all, no longer dean. and yes the trauma olympics approach is pointless, but if they're gonna insist on going there first, i'm not gonna hold back.

i mentioned sam's flinching and how it's valued as a trauma response compared to dean's anger but the thing is...before the cage, sam used to rage at dean and the entire world. his own anger nearly ate him up which he acknowledges multiple times. yet again, back when dean was fresh out of hell and sometimes genuinely freaked out by sam, including when he flinched at sam using his powers, it's still perceived as dean being cruel and abusive to sam. if sam feels bad about the moral implications and consequences of his actions it's because dean won't instantly get over it and support him. if dean doesn't trust him, it must be dean's fault alone. sam is the only one whose pov is taken into consideration and the only one whose feelings can be hurt. so it is a perfect victim thing but also about how only one of them gets to lash out and be vindictive and messy and remain sympathetic and good. essentially, sam gets to be a person but dean can only ever be sam's own personal giving tree.

it's classic fandom woobification with the childish "my fave can do no wrong" rhetoric, but since it's 2024 it's now hidden behind words like autonomy/cycles/abuse and passed around as objective analysis.

[hunterenough]

December 13

Notes: I’m co-posting this on AO3 (hunterenough). Written for @notfunnydean for the SPN Advent Calendar Challenge. This post contains NSFW highly technical wing grooming smut.

December 13

Waking up from a nap with an angel was kinda hot, he’d learned yesterday. Waking up after sleeping for a full eight hours was like, very grossly hot in another way. Cas was like a furnace, and between his body heat and the blanket, Dean was roasting. Every part of him felt sweaty. And he had to pee, like immediately, but he couldn’t wiggle his way out of bed.

“Cas, c’mon man.” He gave his angel a little shove. Cas just whimpered and tightened his hold, pressing down more firmly on his bladder, and the urge to pee became urgent.

“Seriously, dude. I have to get up.”

Cas grumbled, but he rolled over.

Dean leapt out of bed with a sigh of relief. The cold air on his sweaty skin was doing no favors to his bladder situation, so he rushed to the bathroom. He detoured to the kitchen for coffee on his way bad to his room, deciding his angel might be more agreeable to morning after his first hit of caffeine. He waited, mostly patiently, for the coffee to brew.  

By the time the pot was three quarters full, he was freezing. The warmth of both his bed and his angel had worn off, and the floor felt like ice under his bare feet. He was debating breaking his own rule about interrupting the coffee brew cycle when Sam wandered in.

“G’’morning.”

“Morning Sammy.”

“Where’s your robe? ‘S cold in here.”

“I just had to pee, wanted to grab some coffee before I went back to bed.”

Sam arched his eyebrow and glanced obviously at the two mugs laid out before the coffee pot.

“I...uh, Cas…” He spluttered.

Sam started laughing.”I’m just giving you shit man. Way to step up and be a good boyfriend. Everyone deserves coffee in bed now and then.”

Dean glared at him as the coffee pot gurgled indicating the brew was finishing up.  Dean filled the two mugs, returned the pot to its home, and pointed at Sam. “You shut up.”

Sam’s laughter followed him out of the kitchen.

Cas was literally buried in the pillows and blanket when he got back to the room. When Dean tapped his shoulder, he groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head.

“I brought coffee. I had to face down Sam to get it, the least you can do is sit up.”

“Can’t we just stay in bed?” Dean was pretty sure that’s what Cas had said, but given that he hadn’t moved from under the pillows, it could really have been anything.

“Cas, we spent all day yesterday in bed. We only got up to eat. If we do that every day, we’re going to turn into fat slobs. Well, I will, you can probably grace yourself all hot again.”

Cas’ shoulders were shaking, and it sounded like he was laughing. He finally rolled over. Dean joined him on the bed, propped up against the headboard. He handed Cas a mug when the angel finally sat up.

They sat there for a quiet minute, enjoying their coffee.

“So, what do you have planned for today Santa?”

“I was thinking of another snow tradition maybe, I don’t know.”

“I like the snow. Were you planning on breakfast? I owe Gabriel breakfast for teaching me about music.”

“First, I think Gabe negated that when he got you all freaked out about the spell. Serves him right if he never eats my cooking again after getting you all worked up. Jesus, either one of them could have talked to me about it first.”

“I’m guessing it would be bad form to mention that talking has not generally been a strength of yours until very recently?”

“You guess correctly. Second, Sam’s on my shit list for calling you my boyfriend all smarmy like this morning.”

“Am I your boyfriend?”

“Ummm, yes? I mean, I kinda assumed, after yesterday, I don’t know! Do you want to be?”

“Hmmm, I would say, yes. So, why does that merit wrath toward Sam?”

“Because, he teased me about it before I even got to ask you myself.”

“Dean, despite the lack of sexual physical contact, I’m pretty sure we’ve been romantically involved for years, he’s pretty late to be teasing you about it. He could have started teasing you when we started staring at each other for extended periods of time. Eye fucking I believe he calls it.”

Dean groaned. Hearing his angel swear had an alarmingly stimulating effect on his dick.

“Fine. I can’t really argue that one. Just don’t tell Sam. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Gabriel’s been teasing me for years. I never bothered to contradict him because I couldn’t argue that I didn’t have a romantic interest in you. Usually, I just ignore him until he gets bored.”

“Good plan. I’ve got a better one. Let’s go engage in gross amounts of PDA until he gets scared and runs away.”

Cas grinned. “I like the way you think...boyfriend.”

“Ugh, that just sounds wrong. Maybe don’t call me that as a nickname. Save it for introductions, like ‘This is my boyfriend, Dean.’ But only when we’re not under cover or on a case or something ok?”

“What should I call you? Honey?”

“I suppose, or hon could work, although, I’ve always kinda like the way you say my name.” Dean blushed.

“That...explains a lot.”

“What!?”

“Nothing, it’s just...your soul sometimes.”

Dean lifted his eyebrow.

“I know you don’t like it when I get in your head, so I don’t do that anymore, but sometimes, your soul is just so...I really like looking at your soul. And sometimes, it does this thing, like kinda flares up for a second, red sometimes, but sometimes gold or silver or purple…”

“Get to the point babe.”

Cas preened at the diminutive. “I could never figure out what that meant. The color was never predictable, which was confusing, and I couldn’t relate it to anything in particular, but I’m beginning to understand it was lust. All of those, among other things, are colors of lust.”

Dean flushed. “I thought I kept that under wraps.”

“Dean, I didn’t know what it meant until after we’d had sexual contact. All those colors have multiple meanings. Red can mean anger or anxiety, gold can mean divine protection, silver, growth, purple can mean healing. None of them are out of place in your soul, in fact they’re pretty common to see in you, it was the shape of them that caught my attention. Usually your soul is...I don’t know how to describe it really...like a vaguely you shaped blob of color. Sometimes, when you’re feeling something really strongly, it takes on a more definitive edge, this was like...well, like when you throw a log into a fire and it sends up sparks for a second before the flames settle back down. It was always too fast for me to examine.”

“That actually sounds, kinda awesome.”

“It is, it really is.”

~~~~~

Dean had finally dragged Cas out of bed with the promise of pancakes. They’d agreed that Cas could bless the ingredients, though Dean had offered, because Cas’ grace was unlikely to be directly affected by the spell.

“It’s not that I don’t love how open you are when you’re bespelled Dean, it’s just...I’d rather know you’re sharing things that you want to share.”

Dean had tried to explain that there was no compulsion, just no fear of side effects, but the angel had been insistent. Dean had yielded.

He’d dug out all of the ingredients and while Cas did the blessing, he went to find Sam. He wanted to be sure his little brother got his fill of the Dean and Cas show so he’d stop the teasing. He located him in the library, and told him they’d be serving in ten minutes.

Brother inbound, he rejoined Cas in the kitchen. It seemed his angel really did like to watch him cook. “You got a thing for me in the kitchen Cas?”

His angel laughed and leaned over to brush the flour off his shirt. “I have a ‘thing’ for you looking happy Dean, and you always look happy when you’re cooking breakfast for us.”

Dean flushed a little. “I like feeding my family, making sure everyone is taken care of. Food is important.” He continued mixing the batter, then greased the skillet.

“Breaking bread together has been a sign of solidarity since the dawn of mankind. It is a very important social act.”

“You make it sound so formal.”

“It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. When food was scarce, sharing a meal was definitely a sign of trust or intimacy...family. But even in good times, sharing abundance was reserved for friends, or developing trust. Making a meal for someone is a deeply meaningful act Dean.”

Sam came in at the tail end of his sentence. “Whoa. I don’t really think I need to hear about ‘deeply meaningful acts.’”

Dean shot Cas a wink and leaned in for a kiss. His angel grinned and wrapped his hands behind his neck, pulling him close. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, but when their lips touched, the rest of the room kind of...faded from Dean’s mind. They might have gotten a little carried away. Tongues were definitely involved.

“Oh my God you guys! Seriously, I was kidding. I don’t need to see you do it! Gabe! Gabe, there’s porn in the kitchen!”

Gabe popped into the chair next to Sam. “Where?”

Sam gestured to where he and Cas were now leaning together by the stove.

“Dammit Sam, we’re still in our pajamas!”

Cas chuckled and waved his hands. He and Dean were instantly clothed in jeans and faded t-shirts.

“Sam, I think we need to talk about your definition of porn.”

“Shut up Gabriel, I was just trying to get them to stop making out in the kitchen.”

“Ahhh, and I missed it?”

“Dude, he’s my brother!”

“Shut up Sam, it’s not like you’ve never seen it before.”

“No, I really haven’t. Not like that man, you guys were like trying to climb into each other or something. It was like...really awkwardly cute and hot at the same time. Like that!” He waved wildly between the two of them. Dean raised his eyebrow and Cas just laughed. “Gabe, did you see that?”

Gabe looked at Sam like possibly he was possessed.

“The eye fucking. It’s dirty. I really, really don’t need to see that.”

“Sam, I once walked in on you fucking Ruby doggy style. You have exactly zero room to complain.” Dean turned back to the stove.

“That was just fucking, this is...it’s intimate.”

Dean flipped the first batch of pancakes onto a plate and brought them to the table. Cas followed with plates and silverware.

Gabe was shaking his head. “So let me summarize. Your brother seeing you actually having sex with somebody is okay because it was just a physical act. You seeing your brother kissing my brother is not okay because there’s...emotion involved?”

“Exactly.”

Dean walked over and planted a loud kiss on Cas’ lips, then rubbed their noses together, grinning. “Better get used to it man. I’ve got a live in boyfriend now.”

Sam groaned and Cas just laughed.

Dean waved his spatula at the pancakes. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, whiner.”

Things calmed down once they were finally eating. Cas made little noises of enjoyment, which made Dean squirm which made Gabriel laugh and Sam groan, but other than that, no further comment was made about Dean’s boyfriend situation. Dean considered it a win. He’d also scored a new way to completely gross Sam out, and those were few and far between, so he tucked that knowledge away for later use.

When they’d finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, Dean led the way to the crates. “Sorry Gabe, you’re back on the shit list for getting Cas all worked up about the spell.”

“Still thinking I’d rather have breakfast than a present Dean, so I’m okay with that.”

Cas and Sam unwrapped new winter jackets, insulated Carhartt. He’d gotten Sam’s in black and Cas’ in navy. “I know your trench coat is plenty warm, but you look cold in it. And I have one just like this in green.”

Cas just smiled and hugged his coat. “This will look much nicer with my new jeans. Thank you Dean.”

“You guys are just gross.”

“Shut up Sam. Go get some clothes on, we’re gonna teach these guys how to make snow angels.”

~~~~~

They’d gotten bundled up and tromped out behind the bunker. Gabriel’s sledding hill had disappeared, and their snow family had reappeared with a noticeable haloed addition.

Sam laughed and pointed. “I have never, ever, seen an angel with halo Gabe.”

“Had to do something so you’d know it was me.” Gabe grinned.

“Is that a snow angel then?” Cas asked.

“Not even close. That is a snowman, masquerading as an angel. This is a snow angel.” Dean fell straight back into the snow and waved his arms up and down until the snow was well packed around him. He sat up carefully and raised his arms so Cas could help him up. “See? It’s got wings.” Dean grinned at him.

“Those are not wings. I’ll show you wings.” Gabriel repeated Dean’s fall, but kept his arms close to his side. He blinked, and two huge wings appeared at his side. He hopped up on his own grinning.

Dean looked stricken.

“No. Nope.” Sam stepped between Dean and Gabriel’s “angel.” Cas snapped his fingers and it was gone.

“What?” Gabriel looked between the three men.

“Think about it man.” Sam whisper-yelled at him.

“It looked like a fucking corpse you assbutt.” Cas gritted out.

“Oh, shit. Dean. I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

Dean just shook his head, trying to clear it of the the memory of Cas’ wings stretched out like that. Cas pulled him into a tight hug.

“You just need to see Cassie’s real wings. I swear, they’re actually awesome.”

“He can’t you idiot. Eyes burning out of their sockets ring a bell?” Sam was too busy being protective of his big brother to pretend to be grossed out at the show of affection.

“Not if I help they won’t, idiot.” Gabe shot back. He closed his eyes and started chanting in Enochian.

Cas whirled to face him. “Gabriel, you don’t spell people without permission.” Dean followed him with his eyes. His angel, pissed, was a sight not to be missed, or taken lightly.

Gabriel continued chanting for a few seconds longer, then stopped with a wave of his hands. He squinted his eyes open. “Did it work?”

Both Dean and Sam looked shocked. “I’m guessing it worked.” Cas moved back to his hunter and gripped his shoulder. “Dean, I can explain-”

“Dude, your wings are awesome.” At the tone of Dean’s voice, Cas glanced over his shoulder. When he’d last looked at his wings, they’d been torn and burned. Functional, but barely. Now, they looked, at worst, in need of a good grooming. When he glanced back at Dean, he was still staring at the black appendages. He looked away, flushing, only to see Sam staring at Gabriel’s larger, golden wings with equal intensity.

“Can I touch them?” Sam asked, awe clear in his voice.

Gabriel laughed. “Not without buying me dinner first.”

“Huh?”

“An angel’s wings are...sensitive. Exposing them isn’t really...Grooming is very…” Cas trailed off.

“What my brother is rather eloquently trying to say is that angels rarely expose their wings to humans. They’re part of our true form. An angel can grant a human the ability to ‘gaze upon them’ without getting his eyeballs singed out, but we don’t usually, unless we have a really good reason. Nobody touches an angel’s wings except the angel himself, outside of grooming. They’re very, well, sensitive is a good word for it, to touch. Grooming is...usually not a communal act. It’s kinda like cleaning yourself in the shower. You don’t exactly let just any random stranger clean your junk for you.”

“It’s intimate.” Sam said.

“Yes.”

“Like sex.”

“Yes. And not the kind you don’t care if your brother sees.” Gabriel teased Sam.

Sam, who’d still had his arm stretched partially toward Gabe’s wings, suddenly pulled it back like he’d been burned. He flushed red.

“Don’t want to touch ‘em anymore Sammy?” Gabriel said with a laugh.

Sam just flushed deeper red.

Dean, who’d been listening without looking away from Cas’ wings, finally looked back at Cas. “True?” He asked simply. Cas nodded.

“How long does it last?”

“About an hour.” Cas said.

“Until Cassie turns it off,” Gabe corrected him. Cas’ gaze whipped to his brother. Gabe shrugged. “Archangel, Cassie, I’m smarter than the average bear.”

 Dean grabbed Cas’ wrist and turned toward the bunker, tugging at Cas to follow. Cas caught on quickly, and they popped out of sight.

Sam looked at Gabriel, his eyes wide.

“Count yourself lucky, Samalam, at least you won’t have to watch.”

~~~~~

Cas flew them to Dean’s room, but planted himself on the opposite side of the bed from his hunter.

“Dean. Gabriel’s assessment of grooming was not exactly accurate.” He held his hands up when Dean looked like he was going to crawl across the bed to get to him.

“So, tell me in your own words Cas, tell me about grooming.”

Just hearing Dean say the word nearly had Cas groaning. His mind was flooded with memories of his care with the Christmas tree and the fantasies it had sparked. He swallowed roughly.

“Grooming is a deeply intimate act.”

“Like sex.”

“No. Yes. Not the way you’re thinking. It’s not about reaching orgasm, although I’ve heard that can be a result if grooming occurs when inhabiting a vessel.”

“Then what is it? Because it sounds to me a hell of a lot like spending hours, hours exploring your wings. Touching every one of your feathers, making sure sure they’re lying exactly the way they should. It sounds like taking care of you in a way that nobody else does.”

Cas knew he’d chosen his words purposefully to mirror his own to Dean at the pond, and more importantly, that he’d understood how Cas thought of grooming. “I’ve never let anyone groom my wings for me.” He said it quietly.

“I’ve never spent hours worshiping a lover.” Dean was equally quiet.

“You would want that?”

“I told you Cas, I want everything with you.”

Cas was next to Dean in a blink, clinging to his hunter. Dean tugged him close, but didn’t lean in for a kiss, just held him tightly, their bodies pressed together head to toe, breathing each other in. Dean carefully avoided touching his feathers, though Cas let his wings relax perilously close to his hands.

“Will you groom my wings for me?” He whispered it into his hunter’s chest.

Dean just tugged at his jacket. “I think you’re a little overdressed, don’t you?”

Castiel took a step back and shrugged out of his coat. Dean mirrored his action. They sat at opposite ends of the bed to remove their boots. Cas hesitated before pulling his t-shirt over his head. Dean watched, fascinated, as it seemed to slip through his wings. He motioned Cas to the bed. “If you lay on your stomach and spread them out, I can reach better.”

“You’re not going to take off your shirt?”

“Nah, this is about you Cas, I can get at your feathers just fine with my clothes on.”

“It’s just...I feel very exposed.”

“Cas, I will strip down and groom you naked if that’s what you need. I just want to take care of you.”

“I would like it if you would remove your shirt, and...maybe your pants. I’d like to feel your skin with my feathers...it’s...they’re mine, a manifestation of my true form.” The idea of being able to feel his hunter without the filter of his vessel was...exhilarating.

Cas stripped out of his jeans and socks and quickly lay on the bed as Dean had requested while the other man removed his own clothing. He spread his wings the small amount that the room would allow, thankful that his wings were smaller in physical form than in in their projected form Still, they brushed the boundaries of the room before being extended fully.

He could feel Dean studying him. He was ashamed at the state that they were in...he hadn’t bothered with grooming much when his wings were so badly broken… but grateful that Gabriel had healed them. It was an impressive gift, and one he hadn’t known the archangel was capable of giving. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Dean.

“I don’t know where to start.” Cas sucked in a breath at his hesitation. He could see how badly Dean wanted to get it right.

“There’s not really a wrong place, but I usually start in the middle and work my way out.”

Dean crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips, he could feel the skin of his legs against his chest when he drew a breath.

“Okay, tell me if I do something you don’t like.” Cas just nodded.

Dean gently stroked the skin of his back, between his wings, as if familiarizing himself with it’s resilience, and it dawned on Cas that despite their mutually satisfying encounter the day before, they had never really touched without at least a layer of cloth separating them. He breathed in a quiet gasp, and Dean stopped.

“No, I like it, it’s just...new.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was gravely and low as he returned to his exploration of skin. He worked his way back up to the top of Cas’ back and finally, finally, ran the tips of his fingers over the very edges of his marginal coverts, brushing the joint between skin and feather. Cas moaned deeply and Dean drew back with a light hiss.

“Did it hurt?” they asked the question simultaneously.

Dean chuckled and answered first. “No, but man, it sent very pleasant tingles straight to my dick.”

“An...accurate assessment of the feeling.”

“Yeah?” Dean sounded pleased.

“Yes. Please, Dean…”

Dean settled his weight on the top of Cas’ butt and and leaned over for better access, he balanced himself with a hand between his shoulder blades, and carded his fingers through the same feathers, from skin to the edge of his marginals, seeming to sense where the feathers changed before stopping. The pressure was perfect, the tips of his hunter’s scarred fingers brushing into his down, the thicker parts of his digits smoothing the barbs along the vanes. Cas could only whimper. He’d groomed himself many times, but having someone else, Dean, touching his feathers...it was unlike anything he could have imagined. Dean seemed to take the sound as encouragement, repeating the motion again and again until he’d finished with the marginal coverts, Cas felt boneless, and the hunter hadn’t even finished with a quarter of the first side of one wing. When Dean paused and leaned back, Cas grumbled.

“Just checking…” Dean took the base of a single feather between his thumb and forefinger, and gently pulled toward the tip, ensuring that barbs were perfectly smooth. Cas couldn’t hold back his groan. Dean stroked the skin of his back gently with his thumb while he repeated the motion with several more feathers before he moved on to the secondary coverts. Cas’ body was humming with sensation. Every touch and stroke was a caress directly to his grace. It felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He noticed Dean shifting away and a small pained noise escaped him.

“Not stopping baby, just can’t reach.” He smoothed this skin of Cas’ back again as he moved away, careful not to accidentally kneel on the newly groomed feathers. Cas lowered his wings slightly so they brushed against Dean’s thigh as he walked around to the top of the wing he was studying. “Jesus, Cas.” He sounded short of breath.

He positioned himself near Cas’ alulae, which he had spread wide. He skipped those feathers though, digging his fingers through the section of his wider primary coverts, top to bottom, smoothing through his down, caressing the barbs into place with the joints of his fingers and palm.. Cas’ gave up on controlling the motion of his body. It was just to much effort. His his twitched down into the mattress with the first pinch of an individual feather.

Dean gave each primary individual attention, starting with the largest and working inwards, through the primaries and secondaries and finishing with the small section of tertials. He paused again for a second before leaning forward across Cas’ wing to reach his three wriggling alulae. “Don’t want to forget these guys.”

He stroked the most sensitive feathers with absolute precision, careful not to tug even as Cas flicked them away reactively. The sensation, paired with the hunter’s chest pressing down on Cas’ wing made him buck his hips. “Deeean” the sound was ripped from him, a cross between a moan and a shout.

“Don’t get too worked up love, we’ve got a long way to go.” His hunter was sounding downright smug at this point. When Dean had settled his weight over his butt to start with his second wing, Cas gave a quick thrust up, dragging the top of his ass along the hunter’s shaft. Dean groaned and pressed his own butt down more firmly. Cas smirked.

“Cas,” he started, his tone dark, “You start that and we ain’t gonna finish. I’ll stop right now.” Cas grunted, but settled back into the mattress, hips still.

Dean worked the second wing over, more quickly for being more confident in his ability to bring pleasure, but with no less care. He stroked the alulae as soon as he took his position to start on the outer edges of the second wing, rather than teasing Cas this time. When he’d finished with the tertials, he patted Cas on the ass. “Flip.”

Cas rolled over and repositioned his wings carefully. Even without his hunter’s touch, they were buzzing with residual sensation, and the lightest brush against the sheet had him hissing. He was too blissed out to even care about the tent in his boxers. Dean wandered back to the other side of the bed, assessing the situation. He took hold of Cas’s elbow gently, and tugged his arm across his body until he was leaning on his side. Nodding to himself, he worked through the ultra sensitive axillars and his anterior marginal coverts before rolling him to his other side and repeating the same sections. Seemingly satisfied that he could reach the rest of his feathers from a central location, he guided Cas back to lying flat before crawling onto the bed. Cas watched as Dean hesitated for a second then once again straddling his hips. He was careful not to press his weight down, and Cas could see that the situation in Dean’s boxer briefs was as prominent as his own.

Dean glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “You good?” Cas could see the love and lust swirling in his eyes.

Cas nodded. “Sooo, good Dean.” Dean smiled. He looked truly happy, not smug the angel realized, that he could wring out such pleasure from his lover.

Dean leaned forward slowly, his arms stretched out in front of him, and Cas braced for his weight. Nothing, not a thing in heaven or on earth, could have prepared him for the joint sensation of Dean’s cock pressing against his as he slid his fingers into both wings. Cas’ hips shot up uncontrollably, increasing the pressure where their groins met, and both men groaned heavily, Dean’s hands frozen in his feathers.

“Pleease.” Cas gritted out. Not bothering to control the rocking of his hips. “Dean.” His voice sounded wrecked, even to his own ears.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his body held perfectly still. Slowly, he reopened his eyes and restarted the motion of his hands, answering each of Cas’ thrust with one of his own. When Cas didn’t think he could take any more, Dean paused for a second, seeming to assess his work. A dangerous looked crossed his face before he was leaning forward again, pressing his weight into Cas cock to stomach to chest to shoulder, finally, bringing their lips together. Cas sighed at the relief of his oversensitive feathers, his eyes fluttering closed. He missed Dean reaching out. The hunter’s sudden loose grip on his alulae shocked him over the edge, tumbling into his orgasm with a shout. Dean rode down hard against him, shouting his own release.

They came down from the high slowly, Dean gently caressing the skin of Cas’ arms, chest, and sides, careful to avoid Cas’ still fluttering feathers, and pressing soft kisses to his face. When Cas finally opened his eyes, his hunter was staring down at him, a small smile on his face.

“That was…” He trailed off, there weren’t really words for how deeply satisfying that had been.

Dean’s smile just widened. “Yeah, it was.” He shifted a little, then leveraged him weight back onto his knees groaning a bit at their stiffness.

“Would you mind if I put them away? They’re so sensitive that the air is almost painful. These sheets feel like sandpaper.”

“I can’t even imagine. Besides, I want to cuddle, and I don’t want to lay on your wings. But…”

“I’ll bring them out again, some other time Dean.” He reassured his hunter.

“Okay then, do your thing.” Cas tucked his wings back into their dimension then touched Dean’s knee, relieving the stiffness and cleaning up their mess.

“Hmmm. Perks of having an angel boyfriend. Might have to keep you around.”

Cas flopped back onto the bed. “You’re stuck with me now. What’s that saying? ‘Once you go Cas, you never go back.’”

Dean snorted out a surprised laugh and snuggled into his side. Cas draped his arms around his hunter and tugged him closer, burying his own smile in Dean’s hair. He was almost startled when he heard Dean’s silent prayer.

Cas? Thanks for letting me do that. I love you. His hunter buried his face more firmly into his chest.

He whispered his reply. “It could have only ever been you Dean, I love you too.”

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Skinny Love

Masterlist

WC: 1,532

Warnings: angst, sort of fluffy ending, implied bulimia and depression, a handful of cusswords

A/N: This is my submission for @waywardrose13 ‘s #Rose500challenge and my prompt was “Skinny Love”-- Birdy’s version. 

I’ve never had any personal experience with bulimia, so please keep in mind this is fiction and I just went with it for the song. It didn’t turn out like I wanted, but sometimes that happens haha.

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“Sammy, I’m telling ya, you’ve got some competition. Y/N pretty much carried us on this one and, lucky for me, she was the one saving my ass while you were off taking a nap or whatever you were doing. Seriously-- where’d you learn to fight like that?” 

Dean was almost giddy as the three of you walked out of the barn that had, only moments ago, housed one of the largest vamp nests any of you had ever come across.

Sam grimaced and you shrugged with a smug smile. “Y’know Dean, I can’t ever remember a time in my life when I didn’t kick ass. There’s just some things that can’t be taught. If you ever want to try though, I’d be happy to give you some lessons on how to be as awesome as me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can give some pointers anytime you want.”

The boys laughed and you savored your last few hours with them. After grabbing a late dinner and checking out of the motel you’d been sharing, you parted ways with the Winchesters and watched the impala disappear into the night. As the taillights faded, you felt the emptiness you always tried to hide within began to swell.

Come on skinny love just last the year Pour a little salt we were never here My my my, my my my, my-my-my my-my Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

Even though your hunt with the Winchesters had turned out well, you couldn’t stop thinking about the moment Dean had almost died because of you. There was always a chance a hunt might go south, but Dean had knocked you out of the way to save you. Sure, you’d whirled around and beheaded the son of a bitch in time, but what if you hadn’t? What if Dean had…

You couldn’t even think about it.

Normally you could shove the guilt and blame that came with this life down with booze or the belief that you were saving others. Or you’d try to cover it up and seem more confident than you really felt. But lately all the bad-- all the loss-- seemed to be eating away at you.

You looked at your reflection in the motel mirror, not even recognizing yourself. Your cheeks had begun to sink in and you were pale.You hardly ate anymore and, what you did eat, you forced yourself to throw up.

Nothing you did was enough. You weren’t strong enough to be a hunter and protect the boys. You weren’t fast enough or smart enough to save everyone you’d lost. But you also weren’t interesting enough or pretty enough or skinny enough to make it in a “normal” life.

It had been a month since you’d seen the boys. Or was it two now? You weren’t even sure anymore.

The more you thought about everything you’d lost, the more upset you’d become. You were so overwhelmed and disgusted with yourself that you punched and tore at the veneer of your wood headboard, unable to find a more productive way to get rid of your frustrations. But as your anger had subsided, so did everything else you felt. Your hope. Your drive. Your will to fight.

You mindlessly watched the blood swirl down the drain under the steady stream of water. You fingernails and knuckles were raw, but still you felt nothing.

Tell my love to wreck it all Cut out all the ropes and let me fall My my my, my my my, my-my-my my-my Right in the moment this order's tall

You’d felt yourself slipping for a while. There were several times you’d thought about opening up to the boys and asking them for help, but you’d decided not to burden them. Deep down you knew they cared about you--even if you only occasionally teamed up on hunts. They’d do anything for you, just as you’d do anything for them.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to call them.

You dried your hands and crawled back in to bed. You’d payed the motel in advance for an extended stay, but you weren’t sure how much longer you had. You didn’t even know or care what day it was anymore.

So you fell back asleep, wasting away and simply existing.

And I told you to be patient And I told you to be fine And I told you to be balanced And I told you to be kind And in the morning I'll be with you But it will be a different kind 'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets And you'll be owning all the fines

You’re phone vibrated. Again.

The boys had called and texted you several times. A lot of hunters had reached out to you actually-- asking for help or making sure you were okay because no one had heard from you in a while.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to answer their messages or even listen to most of them.

Your phone finally stopped buzzing as the voicemail picked up. You pulled the covers up to your chin and groaned when you heard a buzz once more. Reaching to bedside table, you tilted your phone and looked at the screen. For a moment, you almost felt...something as you saw Dean’s name.

“Y/N, we’re coming to find you. If you don’t answer this message, I swear I’m going to bust down every door from here to Canada until I find you. Please---”

You didn’t bother to unlock your phone and see the rest of his message. Returning it to the table, you turned on your side and pulled the covers over your head.

Come on skinny love, what happened here? Suckle on the hope in light brassieres My my my, my my my, my-my-my my-my Sullen load is full, so slow on the split

Incessant banging on your door woke you from your nap. You let out an annoyed sigh, but made no effort to answer it.

“Y/N?” A loud voice called.

Was that Sam?

“Y/N, if you’re in there, open up or I’m kicking the door in!”

That was definitely Dean, and you felt a faint twinge of guilt for not answering. But you couldn’t.

There was a splintering crash as the door was kicked open, but you continued staring at the wall across the room.

“Dean, what if she’s…”

You could imagine their reactions at seeing your room in disarray. You hadn’t bothered to pick up after your meltdown, and you’d have to pay for the headboard you tore apart. Your clothes and take-out bags were strewn across the floor and you really only bothered to turn on a light when you went to the bathroom.

When was the last time you did laundry? Or showered? What if you smelled? You were vaguely embarrassed, but not enough to move. You just couldn’t fight anymore.

Dean made his way around the bed cautiously, afraid of what he might find. When he saw your eyes were open and you shifted them enough to acknowledge his presence, he sighed and dropped to his knees.

“Y/N,” he breathed in relief as he ran a hand through your hair and let it rest on your cheek. “Sweetheart, what the hell happened here? Why haven’t you answered any of our messages?”

And I told you to be patient And I told you to be fine And I told you to be balanced And I told you to be kind And now all your love is wasted Then who the hell was I? 'Cause now I'm breaking at the britches And at the end of all your lines

You finally opened up to them about the secrets you’d kept for so long. About all of your insecurities and flaws. With each confession, the emptiness inside of you ate away at you a little less. You began to cry and Dean simply hugged you tighter. 

The boys let you rest and tended to your injured hands. Dean had crawled into bed and held you for hours as you slept on and off. Sam ran to town and picked up some soup for you. They didn’t force you to eat a lot, but they made sure you kept it down.

Who will love you? Who will fight? And who will fall far behind?

They stayed up with you all night and into the morning.

“Y/N, we wish you’d come to us sooner and...and I’m sorry we never noticed how much you were struggling. We don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to us. All these things you dislike about yourself...we’ll find a way to help you see you’re enough.”

“We’ll fight this together,” Dean continued for his brother. “You’re not a burden and we love you so damn much. Sammy and I have both had our share of giving up and not seeing a way out. But you’re so damn strong-- and you’re sure as hell not alone. You’re coming with us to the bunker-- no discussion.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“That’s what family’s for, sweetheart.”

Come on skinny love

My my my, my my my, my-my-my my-my My my my, my my my, my-my-my my-my

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