Dean wasn’t sure exactly when it happened. When they went from Dean and Cas to DeanandCas. How they went from sleeping in separate beds to sleeping in the same one. How they went from brushing fingers against shoulders to pressing kisses to cheeks and ghosting their mouths against the corner of each other’s lips.
It was a slow progression.
Until it wasn’t.
Until one small little thing was a sudden jarring moment in Dean’s mind. They’re together together. And it’s so innocuous. This little moment that Cas doesn’t even realize.
They’ve been sharing things for weeks. Jackets. Blankets. Food. All of it happens without Dean even noticing. Besides, he was always stealing fries off of Cas’ plate, so it wasn’t really a surprise when Cas started stealing onion rings from his plate.
But this. Right now. Watching Cas get up from the warm cocoon of their bed sheets and proceed to open Dean’s drawer of clean clothes before stealing a pair of Dean’s clean socks. That was monumental. Cas doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, too busy rambling on about taking Jack bowling: “Isn’t that something normal people do? Talking of, I’ve never been bowling, either. Have you been bowling before, Dean? It can’t be too hard, can it? Isn’t there some sort of system used for kids to help them knock the pins down? Maybe we should use that for Jack? Or maybe he’d been fine without it?”
Dean doesn’t want to admit he’s tuned out; Cas’ words a white noise in the back of his mind. Because he can’t tear his eyes away from Cas’ hands. His socks in Cas’ hands. It’s a ridiculous pair with little burgers on them; nothing like the normal black socks Cas wears every day. Dean’s caught between shock and awe at the way Cas unrolls them, bending down and sliding one sock on and then the other, all the while never breaking his babbling about bowling and the history behind it.
And still, Dean can’t stop staring. They’ve shared clothes before. In fact, Cas is currently wearing one of his old AC/DC shirts; something the angel has taken to sleeping in every night since borrowing it two weeks ago. And just last week, Cas had draped the trenchcoat over Dean’s shoulders when they were on a hunt sneaking through the Michigan woods in early November; the angel noticed Dean’s shivers and immediately combated it by sliding the trenchcoat over Dean’s shoulders to warm him up.
None of that had made Dean stop and stare. It had been natural. As easy as breathing. But this. This was different. This was Cas taking Dean’s socks like they were his. And it’s at that moment Dean feels like his lungs are burning; thoughts swirling as the recognition dawns on him and settles like liquid gold burning through his veins. He’s in love with this dorky little angel currently stealing his socks.
And he doesn’t mean for the words to slip out, not while Cas is still rambling about bowling and if they could convince Sam and Eileen to join them; blissfully unaware that Dean has just had an epiphany.
“I love you,” Dean says on an exhale, the words tumbling out into the space between them.
Cas immediately cuts off mid-sentence, turning to fully face Dean with a look of starstruck surprise. “What?” he barely manages to say before Dean is getting up from the bed and pulling Cas into a kiss.
“I love you,” Dean repeats against Cas’ mouth, feeling Cas’ dopey smile pressed against his lips.
“Love you, too,” Cas murmurs right back without any hesitation, kissing Dean with enough fervor to leave them both breathless and dizzy.
It’s ridiculous, how a single pair of his socks could hold so much meaning, but it’s surprisingly them.
Later, when they’re at the bowling alley as Jack is taking his turn at knocking the pins down, having dragged Sam and Eileen along to their little adventure, Dean snakes his hand down to settle on Cas’ ankle, where a peek of his socks with their silly little hamburgers can be seen where Cas’ pants have ridden up.
“You like stealing my clothes that much that you’ve taken to stealing my socks too, huh?” Dean teases.
Cas looks from the socks to Dean’s face, before a flush creeps up his cheeks. He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but his facade wavers as he leans into Dean’s space; pressing their lips together. “What can I say? I love your clothes as much as I love you.”
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