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"Dean."
Dean's already in back in bed, stripped down to his boxers and a light t-shirt. He looks up when Cas says his name-- in that way he always says it, with just a touch of confusion-- so Dean knows before he even sees it that Cas is wearing that (begrudginly cute) pinched look on his face.
"Yeah?" He grunts out. It's past midnight, and he has to speak quietly to avoid waking Sam up at all costs. Even if the walls in the bunker are thick as hell, he's not going to take any chances.
Castiel, standing on the other of the bed, is still dressed in all his layers. He removes his trench coat and lays it on a chair, the fabric flapping a little too loudly for Dean's liking. He grits his teeth, but Cas doesn't notice.
"Am I the big spoon or the little spoon?"
He's turned toward the bed now, toward Dean but not looking at him, head angling in that other way he always does.
Dean wants to roll his eyes, but decides it's better not to. "What the hell, Cas? What are you talking about?"
"Well," he starts, even-toned, as he continues to undress slowly before Dean's eyes, "Sam asked me earlier if I was the big spoon or the little spoon."
Dean's eyes suddenly go wide in the pitch-black of his bedroom. He can feel his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.
Cas doesn't seem to notice any change as he slides into the bed beside him. He continues in the same tone, "I told him that I didn't understand the question, and he laughed for quite some time and then said to ask you."
Oh no. Shit. Oh no. Dean's breathing is growing shallow-- oh shit. "Cas. Why did Sam ask you that?"
Of course, Cas is only more confused now but he's definitely starting to notice how Dean is reacting to the question. "I-I don't know, Dean, I don't understand--"
"Did he see you coming out of my room? Did you tell him you've been sleeping in here? Did you-- shit."
Dean is freaking out. He is full-scale freaking out right now because Sam is not supposed to know. Jesus, he knew this shit was stupid, reckless, right out in the bunker where Sam could see anything at any moment. But then Cas had knocked on his door that night and said I need you Dean and, shit, if he wasn't a sucker for that...
"Dean."
Cas sounds more serious this time, but still a little lost. He reaches a hand out to Dean, who tenses at the touch. "I'm confused. How does any of this pertain to silverware?"
Dean heaves a very loud sigh. "It's-- it's a sleeping thing, a cudd... it's the way two people hold each other. One person is the big spoon and one's the little spoon."
"Oh."
That's all he says. Just oh. Sam knows and all he says is just 'oh'.
"But," Cas goes on, with that same perplexed nature, "wouldn't be we spoons of equal size? That is, you and I are of fairly equal height and build. And differently-sized spoons don't stack together very well. I know," he adds in a low voice, almost proud of himself, "because I've seen your silverware drawer in the kitchen."
Dean groans loudly. He rubs a hand over his face and tries to keep himself calm. "Cas, forget the spoons. Sam knows."
"Sam knows what?"
"Sam knows that you've been coming into my room. He knows...." He gestures between the two of then, "about this."
Castiel pauses a moment. "Oh."
"Yeah," Dean barks out. "Oh."
It's very dark in Dean's bedroom, and it's particularly quiet when neither of them are speaking. Dean rubs two fingers to his temples as he tries to figure out his next move. He could get into the Impala right now and drive away for a few days-- let it all blow over while he's off getting drunk in some crap motel, or working a job on his own. When in doubt, hit the road: The Dean Winchester motto.
"But," Castiel eventually pipes up, "he was laughing when he broached the subject to me. He didn't seem particularly anxious or upset."
Dean thinks about that for a minute. Okay. Maybe that's true. Seems a little too easy to think that they could get off scot-free here, without this turning into a whole... thing.
He sets his teeth together and throws his head back onto his pillow. "Jesus, I'm gonna get a freaking anyeurism one day."
Cas' body relaxes and lies down next to him. "Dean, I still don't know. Which spoon am I?"
His nerves are definitely not calmed. This is probably going to blow up on his face, and at the very least, breakfast tomorrow is going to be a bitch. But... well he can't do much about it now.
"You're the little spoon," he mutters between his teeth, tugging Castiel's firm body into his arms. "Anybody ever asks you, you tell 'em you're the little spoon. Got it?"
"Yes. I 'got it'. Good night, Dean."
Dean sighs, softer this time, and breathes in the smell of Cas' hair. "G'night, Cas."
--
In the morning, Sam is waiting at the kitchen table. He has a mug of coffee in front of him, and a bowl of cereal set out beside it. He raises his eyes from the paper he's reading when Dean and Cas wander in together... hand in hand.
"He's the little spoon, okay?" Dean barks at him like it's practically an order, instead of a statement. "I'm the big spoon. He's the little one. Any problems?"
Sam just chuckles and sets down his paper on the table. "Nope, no problems... none at all."
Dean nods stoically and detaches from Cas, who wanders directly to the silverware drawer to give it a close inspection.
Sam sits up in his chair and flashes a big cheeky smile. "Hey, Big Spoon? Can you have Little Spoon grab me a cereal spoon so I can go ahead and eat my breakfast?"
Dean rolls his eyes and looks over at Cas, who seems to take no issue with their new nicknames. "Little Spoon," the angel repeats, "that's me."
He walks over to Sam and hands him the previously requested utensil, immediately after which he rushes back to Dean's side and begins to whisper. "But, Dean. That's not the way we always sleep. Sometimes I hold you in my--"
"Cram it, Little Spoon," Dean interrupts him harshly before he can breathe out another syllable.
Now Sam is really laughing at that one.