Castiel has grown used to his vessel over time. Humans were still confusing to him — there were many things he still found himself struggling to understand — but he found that he enjoyed the presence of the Winchesters and others he had come across in his time on Earth.

Namely you.

Though you were not quite human — something which was obvious from only a quick glance — Castiel could not help find a kinship with you that he could not find amongst others. Your wings, beautiful things that you were able to display proudly, had immediately drawn him to you. As an angel, he had his own, though he was unable to show them.

He wishes he could return the same feelings that arose in him when you let him idly run his fingers through your feathers, carefully plucking any that have come loose. The last thing he would want to do is harm you, even if he aches at the thought of showing you his true form, to let you truly see him.

He settles for gently preening your wings with focused, precise movements in the quiet of the night, feeling every gentle flutter and twitch under his practiced hands.

“I wish I could give you more than this,” Castiel says softly, the sound of his gravelly voice and the unmistakable fluttering of his wings cutting through the silence. The shadow of his wings, outstretched and brilliant, appears on the wall for a brief moment before they’re gone once more. His hands run down your wings, more of a soothing action than an attempt to groom them further.

Castiel, not for the first time, found himself struggling to find the words to speak. He settles lamely for: “Are you… feeling alright?”