#i wrote the 1st half of this before ep18

[expectingtofly]

Angel in A Hoodie

~1.5k

also posted on ao3

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover said the world needs more cas in oversized hoodie fics and i wholeheartedly agree, so enjoy some fluff, pining, and comfy!cas :)

“We really need to buy you an umbrella,” Dean said as he and Cas walked into Goodwill. He glanced at Cas, whose hair was still wet and plastered to his forehead from getting caught in the rain. His trenchcoat looked dark beige now, it was so soaked through, and water dripped onto the floor with his every step.

“I didn’t realize it was going to storm,” Cas said, his tone defensive. His shoes squeaked as he quickened his steps to walk next to Dean. “I wouldn’t have gone out to the woods if I knew.”

They had driven that morning to investigate a werewolf sighting in a town a few hours away. While Dean talked to the police chief, Cas went into the woods where the supposed werewolf had been spotted. It’d begun to pour rain, Dean had learned the werewolf was nothing more than a rabid wolf, and Cas got drenched for nothing.

Cas was leaving behind a trail of muddy footsteps, and Dean caught one of the employees giving them a dirty look. He smiled at her apologetically and she stalked away, probably to grab a mop. “All the dark clouds in the sky didn’t give you a hint?”

Cas shot him his own dirty look and Dean raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry.” He couldn’t help grin, though, at how bedraggled and grumpy Cas looked. Almost adorable—not that he would ever think Cas was adorable.

He hesitated for a moment, then lifted his hand to wipe a drop of rainwater from Cas’ face with his sleeve. Cas leaned into his touch and Dean tried to ignore the way that simple shift caused his heartbeat to quicken. “Maybe we should’ve bought you a towel first,” he said, dropping his hand.

Under normal circumstances, he might’ve argued in favor of Cas sucking it up and wearing the wet clothes—and that was not at all influenced by the way Cas’ white shirt was now see-through and sticking to his chest. He didn’t notice that at all, thank you very much. But they had a two hour drive ahead of them and sitting in wet clothes wouldn’t be very enjoyable. Seeing as neither of them had extra clothes packed, and Cas’ grace was too depleted to waste it drying himself off, Goodwill it was.

“Okay, pants are that way,” Dean said, pointing to a rack of clothes. He headed down another row where a sign read, Men’s Shirts. “I’ll grab you a shirt.”

The selection was sparse, and Dean scanned the rack before grabbing a t-shirt at random. A drawing of a man holding a fishing rod; the words, Mine is So Big I Have To Use Both Hands, emblazoned underneath.

Nope, nope, nope, Dean thought, shoving the shirt back on the rack. They were not that desperate. He didn’t want to have to explain that one to Cas. He selected instead a plain, light blue t-shirt, belatedly realizing he was choosing one to match Cas’ eyes.

At the squeak of shoes, he turned to see Cas walking over with a pair of jeans and what looked to be a grey hoodie, holding them away from his body so they didn’t get wet.

“This good?” Dean asked, holding up the shirt.

Cas nodded and reached out to touch it. “I like the color.”

Dean reddened. “Yeah, uh, great.” He took the jeans and hoodie from Cas. “Come on, let’s buy this stuff and get on the road.”

After paying, Cas went into a changing room to get out of his wet clothes. Dean was texting Sam to let him know they would be heading back soon, when he heard the sound of the changing room door open. “All good?” he asked, without looking up.

“I don’t think I picked the right size.”

Dean looked up from his phone to see Cas standing in the doorway wearing a massive grey hoodie. The sleeves hung down past his hands and the hem nearly reached his knees. Cas stared down at himself in disbelief and Dean stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll say so."

“It looked so much smaller on the hanger.” Cas lifted his arms out to the sides—the fabric dwarfing his body—then dropped them with a frustrated huff.

“Well, at least you’ll be warm.” Stepping forward, Dean motioned to Cas, and Cas extended his arm, watched him roll the sleeve up to his wrist. “And everyone will think you’re part of a softball league, so there’s that.”

Cas frowned. “What? Why?”

Dean pointed to the purple text across the front of the hoodie which read, Wissahickon Softball League, along with a cartoon depiction of some sort of rodent in a baseball cap.

Cas sighed. “I liked the chipmunk.” He scowled at Dean. “Don’t laugh.” Dean bit back a smile and Cas let him roll up his other sleeve. “It is very comfortable, though. I like this store. I think it’s very considerate of humans to share their clothes.”

“Guess so. Though ideally you would wash them before you put them on.”

His hands now free from the confines of the hoodie sleeves, Cas put his wet clothes in a plastic Goodwill bag. “Who do you think wore these clothes before?”

“The hoodie? I’m going to assume a softball player.”

They walked to the doors leading outside and Cas pulled at the fabric of the hoodie to look at the design. “I wonder why they got rid of it.”

“Maybe they died.”

“That’s very dark, Dean.”

Pushing open the door to outside, Dean shrugged. “Alright, maybe they decided softball wasn’t their passion and quit, and are still very much alive. Speaking of which, we should go to a baseball game. You would like it.” He could picture it now: Cas's serious questions as he tried to understand the human pastime, his excitement as he completely missed the point and found some meandering way to connect it to a deeper, philosophical meaning.

Cas nodded thoughtfully. “That does sound interesting. I would enjoy that.”

They crossed the wet and shining parking lot to Baby. The rain had slowed to an icy drizzle and Dean hitched his shoulders to stop it from running down his neck. Cas blinked against the raindrops and Dean gestured to him. “Use your hood.”

"Oh." Cas pulled the hood up over his head, then slipped his hands into the wide pocket along the front of the hoodie. He smiled up at Dean, his eyes shaded. “These are very nice features.”

God, what a dork, Dean thought, though he couldn’t stop a smile. He almost put an arm around Cas, then quickly looked away, not sure where that instinct came from. He hurried his steps to Baby before the rain started pouring again and soaked through to his skin.

“Are you cold?” Cas asked as they got in the Impala.

“What? No. I’m good.” Dean turned on the ignition and rubbed his hands together.

Cas reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and Dean froze, felt a warmth radiate from Cas’ palm down his arm, then spread across his whole body. He didn’t know how much of the warmth was from Cas’ grace or from the simple reason Cas was touching him.

The warmth suddenly faded and Cas sighed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, pulling his hand away. “I wish I could do more.”

“It’s alright.” He felt the loss when Cas let go of his shoulder, felt now the cold radiating from the windows, creeping under his skin.

Cas frowned at his hands, palms up, and Dean hated the way he seemed so frustrated with himself, with his weakening abilities, so he tried to joke. “You know, I think it was your trenchcoat that gave you your super powers. This hoodie’s probably a cursed object that’s sapping them away. I should’ve tested for EMF.”

It was stupid, but a smile tugged at Cas’ mouth anyway. He met Dean’s eyes and, as always, Dean felt himself sinking into his gaze. The searching, intent look made every moment between them feel so weighty, like at any moment one of them might say something that would change everything between them forever. It was terrifying. Even more terrifying, the way the urge so often rose up in him to be the one to change it all. To say… he wasn’t even sure. He wasn’t even sure what he felt.

Clearing his throat, Dean tore his eyes away. Rain smattered against Baby and obscured the road as he pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced at Cas, who now stared out the passenger window, his hands tucked back into the hoodie pocket, the hood still pulled up over his head. He looked so warm. Dean allowed himself the fantasy of pulling over onto the side of the road, sliding over on the bench seat to press himself up next to Cas, both of them sitting silently as rain drummed on Baby’s roof, maybe Cas sliding a hand around him, running his fingers through his hair…

Blinking, he reached over and turned on the radio, turned it up too loud to distract himself from those thoughts. Cas glanced over and Dean motioned to him.

“I like this look,” he said. “You look very comfy.” His face heated giving the compliment, but Cas didn’t seem to notice, only smiled and ducked his head. Was Cas... blushing?

No, Dean decided, it was only an illusion from the orange glow of the lampposts outside. Returning his eyes to the road, he gripped the steering wheel and continued driving into the rainy night.

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