Wings

Wings and Heavy Drinking

Dean sat drinking his coffee in the bunker kitchen, trying to wake himself up. "Cas," he muttered, "mind your wings."

Castiel blushed and tucked his wings back behind him. "Sorry, Dean."

"It's cool. I'm still wondering why your wings get so wild around me though. What is it, do I ruffle your feathers?" He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Castiel.

Castiel glared, before standing and walking out of the kitchen, accidentally flopping his wings in Dean's face. As he picked a feather off his tongue, Dean briefly wondered if he'd struck a nerve. He'd been trying to figure out for months why his friend's wings only opened around him. Sam didn't cause the reaction. When they worked together on a case, his wings stayed in place. With Dean, they popped out like the cork in a bottle of champagne.

"Still no answer?" Sam chuckled, coming into the kitchen. He moved to the coffee pot and pulled a mug from the cupboard.

"How'd you-"

"Every time you ask him, he has the same look on his face. I just passed him on my way in here."

Dean shook his head. "No," he muttered. It was becoming more of a personal vendetta with each passing day. It had been weeks, and he hadn't been able to break Castiel.

Sam sat down in front of Dean, taking a sip of coffee. "Maybe it's just because you're the righteous man."

"I just want an answer." Dean rose to his feet. "I'm goin' out."

Rock music flowed out of the ceiling speakers. The barista smiled at Dean as he pulled out a barstool.

"How's it going, hot stuff?" She asked shamelessly.

Dean nearly growled. He didn't feel like flirting right then. "Can I just get a beer?"

The girl frowned and slammed a beer down in front of him, barely concealing a venomous glare. She tended to the other customers, making no effort to quiet the words, "asshole," and "dick." Dean downed his drink, neither caring nor listening. He was still trying to come up with an explanation to Castiel's behavior.

Several beers later, Dean registered the swishing in his head and his impaired eyesight. With yet another hiccup, he realized he shouldn't drive. Dean stumbled out the backdoor of the bar and into a dark alley. Sirens in the distance made his head feel even worse. "Cas!" He yelled.

Castiel appeared behind him. "Dean?"

Dean flashed him a grin, but it didn't reach his whole face. "Zap me home, Genie."

Despite the demeaning nickname, Castiel sighed and in an instant the two men were standing in the bunker kitchen, where Castiel had walked out just hours ago.

Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for savin' my ass, Cas." He turned on his heel and stumbled toward his bedroom. Resigned, Castiel followed him. He waited for Dean to fall asleep before pulling the covers over him. He made sure there was a glass of water on the bedside table and left the room with one final look.

Dean trembled as he bolted for the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He shivered, clutching the toilet seat as though his life depended on it. He thought maybe he should call Castiel. The angel always made him feel better. However, Dean didn't want him to see him in his current state. He'd seen enough of banged up, beat down Dean Winchester. Surely, he could be spared this. Instead, he let his head fall against his arm over the toilet bowl. What a way to start the day, Winchester.