The white, fluffy, faux-fir coat might have been appropriate, if Cas had also been wearing a purple suit, gold chains, and a hat with a huge feather stuck in the brim. And had a half-dozen scantily-clad, buxom ladies at his side. But on his lanky body, with his khakis and tie, he looked like an accountant who had wandered into pimpsville by mistake.

"Cas," Sam managed, on the ride home, after he'd managed his laughing fits. "Um, why did that... appeal to you?"

"It reminded me of wings."

"Of course it did," Dean muttered.

"I will admit though, upon reflection, that it is very different from the rest of my attire."

"Well, we could fix that," Sam suggested.

"Sam," Dean said in a warning tone.

"I would be appreciative," Cas said, stroking down the fuzzy sleeve with long, supple fingers.

Dean squirmed in his seat, met Sam's eyes, and turned down into a less reputable district of town.