Rating: Light R
Word Count: 629
Spoilers: Vague late S6
Warnings: Um… see notes.
Disclaimer Supernatural belongs to Kripke, CW, et al. I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: Written for deancaskink for the prompt: Dean/True form!Cas, any way you want it as long as it’s consensual.
Summary: Castiel’s true form isn’t something Dean expected. But it’s far better than anything he could have imagined.
And no, not that way. Dean isn't even sure he has a that in this form.
He'd once heard Castiel describe his true form as the size of "your Chrysler building," but had somehow mentally translated that into a 1,000 foot tall Jimmy Novak in a trenchcoat.
The truth was a hell of a lot different. Castiel wasn't human; Dean thought he understood what that meant with Castiel's ignorance of basic human principles and weird values. Now he understood. Castiel had needed the power from his true form to close the cracked gates of Purgatory, and so had sent Jimmy to sleep and left his vessel for only the second time in Dean's knowledge.
He was almost too bright to look at, a tower of wings in a hundred scintillating colors, eyes like jewels peeking out between the feathers. Dean had stared, even though he knew that he could end up like Pamela at any second, eyes burned out of his skull from the unshielded glory. Maybe it was because he knew Cas, maybe it was because he’d spent so long with him. Maybe it was because right before his eyes grew too painful to keep looking, he’d found a familiar blue eye staring at him. The pain stopped as the eye held Dean’s gaze, and blinked once at him, a glint of the old Castiel shining through the haze of power.
Dean felt that power jolt through him as Castiel brushed his wings against the fiery glow of the cracked gates, sealing them with gold and light. The jolt was more than just startling, it was energizing, arousing, and when Castiel turned his attention away from the gates and fully onto Dean, he started to understand why in the Bible angels were always appearing and saying, “Fear not!” Because confronting something like Castiel when you hadn’t even seen a few bad special effects movies must have been a hell of a trip.
But Dean wasn’t afraid of Castiel. No matter how much power he had. No matter if he was human or not. He’d touched him, made him angry, taught him about Earth, about what you didn’t talk about and what you could. Castiel had saved him, learned from him, become a different kind of angel. Not Dean’s kind, but his own kind.
One that cared for Dean. Loved him. Dean could feel himself trembling, remembering how he’d cowered on the floor amidst broken glass in the wake of Castiel’s passing when he’d first come up from Hell. That fear was gone, replaced with a need to open himself up, to touch. That scared him more than Castiel’s appearance right now.
Castiel spoke to him, his voice no longer a painfully loud roar, but a sonorous punch to Dean’s solar plexus, driving breath and thought right out of him. He could only hold out his hand to Castiel, a soundless “yes” filling his gaze. Please, Cas. The blue eye winked at him as the rush of wings descended on him.
It was like being kissed by a tornado, caressed by lightning, touched by a flock of eagles. Clothing shredded and scattered, light warmed Dean’s naked skin, and a hundred thousand eyes watched as Dean writhed in the embrace of feathers. Castiel’s voice whispered a rumble of encouragement as Dean felt himself respond, let himself let go, arching up and displaying himself before those eyes, burrowing into the touch of the feathers. He let himself soar into the solar heart of Castiel, loving him like he never could in his Vessel, understanding more than he ever had on Earth.
Castiel shouted to Heaven as Dean delighted him with sight and caress, with love and whole-hearted affection, with the knowledge and fullness of everything that they were.