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Summary
“I said I found a hunt, not that I’m about to—”
“I know what you said,” Cas says, stepping closer ‘til he’s directly in Dean’s orbit. He’s dressed old school tonight: trench, wrinkled slacks, white collared shirt and tie. First time he’d stayed over, Dean had talked him into borrowing some sweats and an old Black Sabbath shirt, but he hasn’t seen either of them since. Cas just keeps showing up like this, all suited up like he’s ready to stop an apocalypse. He’s even got his tie on backwards.
“Smartass,” Dean mutters, and then Cas kisses him, and he stops talking.
(It’s been three months since the world didn't end. Dean is fine with that. Really.)