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Cas loosened his tie.
Damn, I wonder if he’d wrap that tie around my—NONONO. SOMETHING ELSE. Ghouls, yeah, ghouls are fucking gross, think about ghouls. How many ghoul cases have we worked?
Dean forced himself to count each ghoul he could remember, hoping that Cas hadn’t been able to read anything.
“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked, and Dean damn near jumped out of his skin.
“Yeah,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could. “Why?”
~~~~~
Or, 4 times Dean prays to Castiel, +1 time they talk about it
Title from Blue Lips by Regina Spektor
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