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"Rock, paper, scissors?" Sam asks, and Dean doesn't even bother, he knows he's already lost. Besides, it's the least he can do, given how well Cas took the news about having to leave.
His first stop is the kitchen, and of course there isn't a cucumber or banana in sight. There's not even a carrot or any fruits or vegetables that are remotely phallic. He settles on a turkey baster and goes to his room where the rest of his supplies are, as well as Cas, who's raiding his closet because at least Dean's clothes will only look like a big brother's hand-me-downs, instead of circus tents. Dean's accidentally gotten a shirt or two of Sam's mixed up with his clothes and it makes him look like a twelve-year-old playing dress up.
Cas looks up as Dean enters, not really catching Dean's eye and immediately looking back down at the drawer full of clothes. He's probably been staring it at since Dean left him in here ten minutes ago. He holds up two of Dean's favorite henleys and looks between them. "I can't take these," he says, and Dean's guilt threatens to choke him.
"You can, and you'll take as much cash as I can find around here, as well as all the other supplies you can carry." There's duffel lying on the bed; his favorite, sturdy with nice long straps so you can carry it a bunch of different ways. He throws a dusty half-box of condoms and a bunch of single-serving bottles of mint-flavored lube into it. "And we have to have a sex ed lesson before you go."
Cas does look up and meet Dean's eyes then. He looks confused. "You want to talk about sex?"
"I don't want to," Dean says, grabbing the two shirts out of Cas's hands and throwing them into the duffel. He grabs a couple of t-shirts, one that he would normally let out of his sight, the one that Sam used to borrow before he grew ginormous and couldn't wear it without his stomach showing. It's nothing special, a shirt from an Aerosmith concert in Jersey that wasn't even that good, but it's still one of the few things he's hung on to over the years, and that in itself makes it special. It's a promise to Cas, not that Cas will ever know. I expect to get this back next time I see you. He sighs and packs a couple of flannel overshirts and a pair of jeans. The jeans won't fit Cas for shit, but they're something for laundry days. "You need a little basic information before you go getting all hedonistic again."
Cas's eyes widen and before things can get any more awkward, Dean just says it. "You need to wear a condom when you have sex." He shifts around the clothes he's stuffed in the duffle to grab a condom out of the box. Cas snatches it out of his hand and turns it over and over.
"I don't understand how one wears this," Cas says, and Dean cracks a facetious smile, even though he's not feeling it. He pulls the turkey baster out of his back pocket and presents it to Cas. Cas holds it at arm's length and looks at Dean doubtfully.
"I'll show you," Dean says, taking the condom packet and ripping it open with his teeth. "This is a condom," he says, taking it between the fingers of right hand. He gestures at the turkey baster. "That is your dick."
Cas looks at the turkey baster again, still holding it away from him like it might bite. "That is not my penis. That is a kitchen implement."
"Pretend, Cas," Dean says, steadying the turkey baster with his left hand on top of Cas's. "We are not practicing on your actual man-parts."
Thankfully Cas doesn't push the subject, he just does his tilty-head thing where he's trying to understand why humans do the things they do. Dean just continues on with the demonstration, though getting the condom situated on the turkey baster is a little weird because of the shape of the top. Rolling it down is a cinch, though, and he hands it off to Cas and throws his arms wide. "Voila, protection."
"Protection from what?"
Dean takes a deep breath and blows it out. "Protection from disease, for one, and from getting girls pregnant for two. Trust me, Cas, neither one of those is a good thing." Cas raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything.
Cas brings the condom-clad turkey baster in close and wrinkles his nose in disgust. "What is that smell?"
"Latex," Dean says. "Learn to love it. Or use lots of flavored lube."
He turns back to his drawers and empties his sock drawer into the duffel. It's time to buy new ones anyway.
"What's lube?"
Dean sighs. Teaching sex ed to newly human angels, how is this his life? He tosses a bottle to Cas. "You use it to make everything…" He can't figure out a word that will both be descriptive enough to get through to Cas and vague enough that he won't die of embarrassment on the spot. Cas looks up at him curiously. "It makes things slippery."
"And that's a good thing?" Cas asks.
Dean stares down at the duffel, full of his clothes that are now going to be Cas's, the only thing he's sending Cas out into the world with. "Yeah, it's a good thing," he says, turning around to his weapons and plucking two small knives off the wall, tucking them into two of the pairs of socks lying haphazardly on top of the duffel.
"Dean," Cas says, putting a hand on his arm. "Stop."
Dean sighs again and pulls the zipper closed. He pulls open his underwear drawer and grabs his emergency cash from the back. "Here." He holds the roll out, eventually grabbing Cas's hand and slapping it into his palm when he hesitates too long. "It's the least I can do." The very least, he thinks, and looks away.
"I understand, Dean," Cas says, resting his hand on Dean's arm again.
Dean pulls Cas into a hug so he doesn't have to look into his face, waiting until he's right next to Cas's ear before whispering, "It's only because of Sam."
"I know," Cas answers, wrapping his arms around Dean's back and holding on for a long minute. Cas hugs differently as a human. Less delicately, like he might break Dean if he squeezes too tight. Like he doesn't really want to let go.
"I'll be fine," Cas says, pocketing the money and hauling the duffel up over one shoulder. "I'll see you when I see you," he says, and before Dean can even complain about Cas using his line, he's gone.