I...think I may have deviated from the prompt a bit... *facepalm*

--


There is something intoxicating about knowing that a human can see him as he is.

He had thought, surely Dean would see him as he is. Dean is special, chosen, righteous. If Dean couldn't then who would?

The first time he actually meets Chuck the prophet, he discovers the truth. Chuck's eyes fall on him and he immediately knows who Castiel is, not because Chuck has written about him in Jimmy's body, in Jimmy's clothes, but because Chuck can see him. Chuck can see him and it leaves the prophet speechless. For a moment, it leaves Castiel speechless as well.

Chuck looked and saw and was awed. And then scared.

Castiel watches Chuck scurry up the stares before forcing himself to turn his attention back to Dean.

He can't chase the look on Chuck's face from his mind.

**

Castiel wonders exactly what humans see when they know they're looking at an angel. Do they see the outpouring of bright energy? Do they see the wings that span rooms and sail through walls as though the walls were immaterial but the wings fully real? Do they see only an aura of what Castiel really is? The shifting changes as he thinks, as he has emotions the way Castiel sees a human soul? Do they see how he has twisted or can they see the stain that spreads across his grace as he...bends the rules?

Castiel waits until long after Chuck has started drinking. Alcohol weakens inhibition he believes and so he believes that Chuck will see him clearer this way, while the rest of his world blurs. Castiel...wants to stand out.

Chuck jumps so hard when Castiel appears before him that the bottle of tequila he'd had nearly goes flying to the floor. Castiel catches it and sets it carefully on the coffee table before the couch.

“Jesus! No, I mean...” Chuck runs out of words and stares at Castiel.

“What do you see?” Castiel asks, curiosity lacing through his voice and shivering down his wingtips. Chuck doesn't answer, his mouth works for a moment but no words come out. His gaze trails the shiver though and Castiel arches up his wings.

Two feathers float loose and drift to Chuck's shirt. He plucks one up as though it were a real material thing instead of energy and grace.

Castiel stares and then he's gone.

**

Chuck wakes hours later with the feather still clutched in his fist and the other poking him in the ribs with it's quill with no clue how they got there.

**

Castiel is fairly sure that this isn't normal. There have been many prophets over his existence. True, that he has had little reason to interact with them on such a personal level but he doesn't believe that any of them could touch an angel's feathers, whatever of the wings they could actually see. He wonders what this might reflect on himself more than Chuck. If perhaps he's gone so far that he's becoming...material here, if this is a step towards falling.

It's endlessly fascinating and terrifying by turns.

He needs to see it again.

Chuck has finished off the bottle of tequila when Castiel appears the second night. This time, he spreads his wings and runs the tips of them over Chuck's arms before Chuck can respond.

Chuck's mouth falls open and he moans. Castiel finds that endlessly fascinating as well. His own reaction shudders through his wings, through his grace, and outwards to Jimmy's body.

“This is...” Impossible, he wants to say. But his feathers trail over Chuck's arms again and Castiel feels it through every other part of him.

“Really fucking weird,” Chuck finishes for him instead and Castiel nods his agreement.

Then he slides down onto Chuck's lap and Chuck's moans feel amazing when they're vibrating against Castiel's mouth.

**

Chuck wakes that morning with feathers scattered to either side of him. One has somehow gotten under his shirt.

**
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