Sam shifted in bed, groaning as he slowly came to consciousness. He felt overheated, and pushed absently at the covers. The covers that weren't covering his body. He sat up, frowning as his torso felt heavier than it should.
Standing, Sam caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and gasped. Two jet black wings sprouted from his back, folded gently against his tanned skin.
"Dean."
His voice was tense. He didn't look away from his reflection, eyes glued to the wings in the mirror.
"Nnghff," Dean muttered from the bed where he had his head buried into a pillow, though the tense sound to his brother's voice had him up and alert in moments, eyes wide at the sight of fucking wings protruding from his brother's shoulder blades, hanging down along his back and barely brushing the floor.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Dean, moving to the edge of the bed and getting up. "How the hell..."
Sam turned to glare at his brother. "How the Hell should I know?" he demanded. He looked at his reflection again, experimentally stretching his wings. "I'm sick of waking up different than how I went to sleep. First I'm a woman and now I have wings?"
The younger Winchester did his best not to see panicked, but that's exactly how he felt. He felt like he no longer had control of his body.
"Whoa, hey there buddy, it's okay. We'll figure this out, okay?" Christ, no need to snap at him, did the wings give him PMS too? Sure, he'd probably be upset but he was himself, of course he would be. Sam on the otherhand. He shook his head and slowly edged toward his brother. "We'll fix it, okay? We'll figure this out, just like we do everything else, right?"
Not that he didn't know how Sam felt, he was kinda suck of shit happening to him too.
Sam took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I know. I'm sorry." He felt guilty for snapping at his brother, but that's what he tended to do when he freaked out. His wings slowly expanded to their full length, nearly the width of the room. "Holy crap, Dean."
He might have liked them if it weren't for their color. It's as if whoever gave them to him knew what he'd done and made sure the feathers would reflect it. He felt like all his indiscretions were on display.
"Jesus, Sam," he breathed out, eyes wide as he let them roam over the span of them. Each feather glistened inky black and Christ, they were a sight to see. Their color wasn't lost on him, no, but they were still stunning. "Can I touch them?"
Dean didn't wait for a reply before he was gently skimming his fingers over the soft feathers. "They're beautiful."
Sam's whole body shuddered at the touch. Apparently his wings were extremely sensitive. That explained why none of the angels they'd made had ever kept them on display. But Sam didn't know how to put them away, so he was at a disadvantage.
"They're black, Dean," he said quietly. He was sure that if his brother had wings, they'd be a stunningly bright white.
"I know!" he said excitedly, running his hand down the bony arch, the skin velvety soft. It was magnificent. "They're totally awesome." Dean couldn't keep the grin out of his voice or off of his face as he checked his brother's wings out. Though, of course, he was worried why Sam had them in the first place but the fact that they were black, while not lost on him, also didn't bother him in the slightest.
"Cut it out, Dean. This is serious!" Sam didn't understand why his brother seemed so calm about this. Not only did he just wake up with wings, they were black like they wanted to taunt him about every wrong decision he'd ever made. Sam couldn't bear to even look at them anymore. He turned to face his brother, very nearly knocking him over before he remembered to pull his wings back in. "We need to get rid of them."
"Sam, jesus, calm down," Dean said, frowning a little. He let out a quiet 'whoa!' when Sam turned and the wings swung out, nearly bowling him over if he hadn't had the reflexes to duck out of the way. "I know wings aren't exactly everyone's favourite thing, but you gotta admit they're pretty awesome. I mean, check out how fucking huge they are! Do you think you can fly?"
Honestly, it was like Dean was in a toy store and found the bestest toy ever and wanted to play with it right now. "Hey, Sammy, hey look, I think they're neat. I actually, really like the color. I don't think it's bad at all."
Sam looked flabbergasted. "Not bad at- Dean, they make me look evil." Which, admittedly, wasn't a bad look on Sam, but that wasn't the point. The younger Winchester regretted so many of his past decisions, and having them all on display only increased the guilt he felt.
"No they don't," he said, making a 'pfft' sound. "You look like a giant bird-man," he said with a grin, then teased a little at his brother's wings. "Can I call you Bigbird? You are pretty damn tall, I think it'd fit." Now he was just messing with Sam, wanting to make light of the situation.
Sam let out a sigh, not amused. Dean could joke around all he wanted, but he was sure that if Lucifer ever showed his wings, they would be exactly this color. The thought of having any more in common with the fallen angel made him sick.
"Okay, Sam. We'll figure it out," he said, frowning a little. "I don't.. know how we're supposed to get rid of them without lopping them off." And honestly he didn't know if that would even work, but he understood, of course he did, why Sam didn't want them. Dean thought they were beautiful, even this color, and Sam looked amazing with them. Powerful and vengeful. It was... pretty hot, honestly.
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Standing, Sam caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and gasped. Two jet black wings sprouted from his back, folded gently against his tanned skin.
"Dean."
His voice was tense. He didn't look away from his reflection, eyes glued to the wings in the mirror.
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"Holy shit!" exclaimed Dean, moving to the edge of the bed and getting up. "How the hell..."
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The younger Winchester did his best not to see panicked, but that's exactly how he felt. He felt like he no longer had control of his body.
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Not that he didn't know how Sam felt, he was kinda suck of shit happening to him too.
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He might have liked them if it weren't for their color. It's as if whoever gave them to him knew what he'd done and made sure the feathers would reflect it. He felt like all his indiscretions were on display.
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Dean didn't wait for a reply before he was gently skimming his fingers over the soft feathers. "They're beautiful."
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"They're black, Dean," he said quietly. He was sure that if his brother had wings, they'd be a stunningly bright white.
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Honestly, it was like Dean was in a toy store and found the bestest toy ever and wanted to play with it right now. "Hey, Sammy, hey look, I think they're neat. I actually, really like the color. I don't think it's bad at all."
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"I want them gone, Dean."
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