Today, Castiel finally admits to needing help with something. Slightly embarrassed, the angel pulls Dean aside to ask for his assistance in grooming his wings. They had grown difficult to maintain after they were singed in Hell, but the fall from Heaven had really put the final nail in the coffin. His back will now twinge in pain when he attempts to reach the remaining feathers scattered amongst the further expanses of his wings. Dean immediately agrees to help, attempting to disgiuse his care and concern under a thin veil of (not so) sarcastic flirting and faux annoyance. Cas mentally lets himself melt into the comfort. He thinks he's beginning to understand that touch can be used, not only to attack, but to soothe.











