It’s not long after that he’s being tickled. He brushes at his arm, frowning. “Dammit, Sam. Knock it off.”

“Apologies,” Castiel murmurs, removing his wing with an effort.

Dean opens his eyes. Sam isn’t looming over him with a feather duster and a grin. He looks over his shoulder. At Cas. Looking oddly adorable all sleep rumpled and pink-cheeked. He frowns again, wondering why the hell Cas is tickling him, when he sees them.

Wings.

Big, dark wings.