They're drunk on joy, on the opening of flowers and the drinking of nectar. Insect wings buzz around them; petals slide like silk sheets beneath them. The sky is opening into warmth and the ground into life, and Jared and Jensen play tag among the green shoots, laughing and shouting, perfect elfin faces alight with joy. Jared's taller, with longer legs, standing a full three inches wingtip to wingtip, and he's always catching Jensen eventually. But Jensen's slippery, and he can get away even from Jared's inevitable grip. It's just a matter of whether he wants to.

They tumble to the ground, dirt mussing their faces and their wings. It will flutter off when they next take flight, but for now the dirt on Jensen's cheeks tastes of spring, of growth. Jared covers his face with kisses, tiny hummingbird tongue sliding into Jensen's mouth to taste the remnants of sweet nectar and honey there. Their bare bodies tangle, for they've never known shame as humans do. Why should they? They're creatures made from magic, and nature and love and joy, and their laughter creates the sparkles that seem to rise off the ground on promising spring days. With soft dotting kisses on tiny rosy faces, they greet spring and revel in each other, and the feeling rises up into the hearts of those who pass by without seeing them. A feeling like the whole world is making love. Spring fever.