#samdeancas

“Again?” Cas asks, tone of voice so genuinely surprised that it makes a laugh bubble up from Dean’s throat, giving up the charade of annoyance. 

“No, Cas. It’s a saying.” Dean can hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “Like assbutt.”

“Assbutt is a saying?” 

Dean thanks whatever entity is responsible for him finally succeeding in lighting the candle so he can stop his boys from sprouting off even more bullshit. There’s only so much of Sam and Cas’ so-called humor a guy can take. 

“Isn’t everything that isn’t literal a saying?” Sam ribs, and Dean knows he’s being obnoxious on purpose, knows he’s aware of the eyeroll Dean sends his way as he returns to bed and burrows under the covers. 

“There,” he points, interrupts the conversation before it takes on even more idiotic dimensions, “candle. Romance.” 

Sam and Cas seem pleased, nodding at Dean proudly. 

“So, what should we decorate the room with next? I’m thinking pictures.”

“I’m surprised you even wanna decorate at all, considering your room looks like it’s never seen a human being before.”

“Shut up, Dean. I like my space neat.”

“Are you saying this room is not neat, Sam?” Cas looks behind him where Sam’s spooning him, an eyebrow raised. Dean mimics his expression, glad they’re done teaming up against him. It’s his turn now.

Sam doesn’t go for it, rolls his eyes affectionately. 

“I’m saying it’s different when it’s not just my space. This is our room; I want all of us to like it.”

Dean’s heart grows three sizes at the fondness that overcomes him. He never thought they’d have their own rooms, him and his brother, not with the life they’re living, and now they’ve got enough space in the bunker to dedicate to this strange relationship they’ve found themselves in. Not that Cas is much for these earthly pleasures. He’s just indulging Dean, as is Sam, he’s pretty sure. But damn if Dean isn’t gonna make the most of what they’ve been blessed with. 

“I think we should get a floorbean. I saw one at the library the other day. A child was sitting on it, and it looked like a very comfortable reading spot. I think you’d like it, Sam.”

“A flo- you mean a beanbag?” Sam asks, grin so wide it might as well split his face in two.

Dean’s hiding his laugh in Cas’ chest lest the angel sees it, and he bets Cas’ eyebrows are adorably furrowed. 

“I… yes. I suppose that’s what I mean.”

“Alright, then,” Dean smiles, comes up to kiss Cas’ lips chastely before moving on to Sam’s, giving his mouth a teasing lick when he pulls away. “A candle for me, pictures for Sam, beans for Cas.”

Sam snorts when Cas’ turns his exasperated gaze towards Dean, making him laugh.