“Is that my flannel?” Dean squinted at Cas, who stood in the kitchen wearing a red plaid shirt that was very non-trenchcoat-like.

Cas looked down, unbothered. “Yes. It’s comfortable.”

Dean groaned. “Can’t you wear your own clothes?”

You walked in, wearing one of Dean’s gray Henleys, and smiled innocently, . “What’s wrong, Dean?”

He spotted you and got even more dramatic, throwing up his hands. “Great! Just raid my closet, why don’t you? I don’t need clothes or anything.”

Cas tilted his head. “You have plenty. And you never wear the red one.”

“Yeah,” you teased, grabbing Dean’s coffee and taking a sip. “Sharing is caring, babe.”

He turned away, grumbling, but neither you nor Cas missed the fond smile he gave you.