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The three of them have been watching the film for a while when it dawns on Dean that Cas seems to be somewhat closer than he was when they sat down, and definitely closer than is strictly necessary given the size of the couch. He shifts awkwardly as far as he can into the corner of the couch and takes another swig of his whiskey, eyeing the almost empty bottle on the floor by their feet.
It is around 15 minutes later when Cas’ hand lands on his thigh, hot and heavy, and he slumps against Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s eyes shoot to Sam, hoping that he’s engrossed in the film and hasn’t noticed, but no such luck; he can tell from the knowing smirk that Sam has seen.
10 minutes after that, Dean realises he can feel warm puffs of air against his neck as Cas breathes, and just knows that Cas is looking at him rather than the screen.
“Cas, man. Come on” he says, nudging him gently with his shoulder, his face flushing as he sees Sam’s shoulders shaking with laughter out of the corner of his eye. “You really need to look at the screen to know what’s going on.”
“Of course, Dean” Cas hums gently, but from the warmth still prickling his skin Dean knows that the other man hasn’t moved. He does his best to remain focused on the movie, studiously avoiding Sam’s gaze and trying not to think about the fact that his whole body feels like it’s tingling.
It’s only another 5 minutes before he feels the rough fingertip gently tracing the shell of his ear. He jerks away, snapping his head around to find Cas’ face inches from his own, chin propped on his shoulder as he gazes up at him, blue eyes slightly glazed and a goofy smile on his lips.
“What the hell, dude?” Dean splutters, choosing to ignore the shiver down his spine because, well… whatever…
“You even have freckles on your ear Dean” Cas replies, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. “I like your freckles” he says happily, reaching up to trace a finger over Dean’s cheekbone. “They’re so pretty. It’s like the sun just couldn’t resist kissing your face.”
Dean chokes and he hears Sam snort from across the room. Cas leans in further, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I can’t say I blame it really” he sighs, finger dropping to brush over Dean’s lower lip, a rueful expression on his face. “I couldn’t either” and he stretches up to place soft, fleeting kisses against the curve of Dean's jaw, the swell of his cheekbone, and lastly, his lips.
Dean is speechless, frozen in place as his eyes meet Cas’ and he sees wistful longing in them. He is dimly aware of Sam muttering something as he hurries from the room but he can’t respond, doesn’t know what he would say in any case.
Cas sighs again and drops his head back to Dean’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re so warm Dean” he mutters, snuggling closer, already starting to doze off. “Gonna just sleep here, ‘kay?”
Dean looks down at his friend, a soft smile on his lips as he presses a tender kiss to his temple.
“Yeah, Cas. You’re okay.”