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About a week after Castiel began living at the bunker after his fall from humanity, Dean noticed that some of his things were going missing.
First, it was his favorite pair of boxer-briefs. They were his nicest pair and he rarely wore them so they were still soft, not yet pilled from years of hard work.
A few days later, Dean awoke to find his AC/DC tee-shirt missing. He’d had the shirt since...well, since forever. The fabric was worn and slightly tattered. He barely washed it and it smelled like him; like pure Dean.
The next thing to go missing was one of his flannels. It was dark green and navy, the fabric thick, heavy, and warm. John had given it to him after a hunt when he was about fourteen. Ever since then, it had been in Dean’s possession.
About three weeks after Cas had arrived, Dean couldn’t find his MP3 player or headphones anywhere. He searched the bunker, huffing when he couldn’t find it. All he wanted to do was listen to some good old classic rock.
What went missing next was his pillow. Dean grumbled as he searched through the sheets covering his memory foam mattress. Where was the damn thing? He sighed and resigned, stealing one of the hard pillows from Sam’s bed.
Dean had stopped looking for his missing things by the fourth week. By then, his cologne was also missing and he pouted before shaking his head, deciding it wasn’t even worth it to look.
On the night that marked one month since Castiel had been at the bunker, there was a soft knock on Dean’s door. He sat up, his brows furrowed.
Dean hummed softly, signaling that he was decent. The sight that greeted Dean was absolutely pitiful.
Castiel stood in the doorway. He was wearing Dean’s boxer briefs and his flannel, the pillow dragging by his side. Castiel was clutching the AC/DC shirt tight to his chest, resembling a small child with a blanket. The headphones were in Castiel’s ears and Dean could hear the rock music blasting. Castiel also seemed to be nearly drenched in Dean’s cologne, as Dean could smell it from his bed.
Castiel had obviously been crying. His eyes and nose were puffy and red, wet streaks smudged over his cheeks. He sniffled, looking at Dean with wide blue eyes.
Dean's heart crumpled at the sight of the broken man.
Castiel walked towards the bed slowly, staring at Dean the entire time. He placed the pillow on Dean’s lap before crawling onto the soft mattress. He put his head down on the pillow, his eyes closing as he curled around himself, nuzzling his face into the tee-shirt.
Dean sat stock still for a moment before he shut the light and relaxed against the headboard. He ran his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, looking down at the ex-angel curled up on his lap.
~
The next morning Dean awoke with Castiel in his arms, all of his missing things strewn about the bed. Castiel was clutching the shirt Dean was wearing, as if he was afraid that if he let go, everything would disappear.
When Castiel finally stirred, Dean gave him a comforting smile. Castiel looked up at Dean and the hunter was unable to resist the urge to press his lips against the other man’s.
Castiel remained still for a moment before melting against Dean, pressing closer to Dean’s body.
Dean just held the angel-turned-man; held him close and kissed him until the pain went away.