#amsfic

The conversation died and Dean tried to look anywhere but at Cas, and when his house finally came within distance, and his heart began beating frantically.

“Do you want to, uh…” Dean tilted his head towards the house.

“Sure.”

When they reached the door, Dean slid his backpack off, grabbing his key, hand chilled by its sudden exposure.  

Dean threw his coat onto a stand next to the door. Cas stepped into the warm house, glancing around the front room, which was full of large, homey furniture in browns and greens, a fireplace was set into the wall farthest away from them. Dean cleared his throat and Cas looked at him, he was full of expectancy with one of his hands held out slightly in front of him. Cas looked down and carefully placed his hand in Dean’s, whose cheeks flushed red and he coughed a bit.

“I meant your coat. I’ll take your coat if you want.”

“Oh.” Cas dropped his backpack on the floor and shed his trench coat. Dean grabbed it and hung it up.

“Do you want something to drink? Like tea or hot chocolate or something?” He really just needed something to do with his hands.

“Hot chocolate would be nice.”

“Great.” He walked to the kitchen, Dean wishing he hadn’t rejected Cas’ hand and Cas thinking about what it was like holding Dean’s. He moved around the kitchen, Cas following him with his eyes, as he leaned against the counter, watching the way Dean’s fingers curled and uncurled, the way this hands moved through the air. Dean turned and met Cas’ eyes and took a step forward.