Dean always loved the few times he's seen your wings, even if he'd never admit that.

He loved watching you stretch them out and sigh in contentment.

He loved when they'd flutter after something made you happy and he got to see the little smile on your face.

Loved when you'd wrap them around him during a hunt, shielding him from danger, even though you both knew he could protect himself.

And he loved remembering the first time you'd let him see them, after Sam had jumped in the cage. He was on his way to Lisa in Indiana, and you had blipped into the Impala, not wanting him to be alone.

You'd never let him touch them though.

Even after all these years, all the things you'd been through together, he's never felt them.

You two were sat at the table in the library of the Bunker, books piling the table as she you tried to find information for your hunt, but nothing helpful was anywhere.

You sighed, standing from your chair and taking a few steps away from him, stretching your back out. You needed to walk after being sat for so long.

You stretched your wings out behind you, sighing as the tension left them, fluttering them softly.

Dean just watched, trying to mask his awe. Seeing your wings is something he'd never get tired of.

"You uh.. alright there, sweetheart?"

He asked, acting like he hadn't been gawking at your wings you had made visible.