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Summary
“Here, let me.” Cas’s long fingers plucked away a dead leaf from a calathea, and Dean watched helplessly as Cas rubbed the bare spot where the leaf had come away with a fingertip. “See? Isn’t it nice to let someone touch you now and again?”
“Goddammit, Cas ain’t the creep, I’m the creep,” Dean muttered, and put his head down on the desk.
