The first time Dean saw Cas wearing one of his shirts, he stopped dead in his tracks as he was walking towards the kitchen.
“Heya, Cas. Uhh, why are you wearing my band tee?”
Cas shrugged, quirking his lip in half a smile. “We haven’t done laundry in a while and all my white shirts need washing. This was all I could find that was clean.”
Dean cocked his head, weighing how accurate that statement was. Sure, he’d been slacking on the laundry recently, but was that tee really the only clean shirt in the entire bunker?
Now that Dean had seen it though, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Cas looked… hot. Really smoking hot in his tee. He slowly dragged his eyes down Cas’ body, checking him out. It sent a shot of desire through Dean’s body, which, no, he had to curb that right the hell now.
Cas was his best friend, nothing more; even if Dean dreamed of pinning Cas down and claiming him.
Shaking his head, Dean coughed nervously and pointed over his shoulder. “Right, well, I’ll do the laundry tonight.” With that, he dodged into the kitchen; images of Cas in his tshirt tempting his treacherous body.
The second time Dean saw Cas wearing one of his shirts, it was after a hunt. Cas’ shirt and trenchcoat had been torn apart by the pack of werewolves they’d been hunting. The car was a mile away on the other side of the woods, and as much as Dean would love to walk next to a half naked Cas, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from drooling as he watched Cas’ muscles ripple as he moved.
He quickly shucked off his flannel shirt, offering it to Cas. Cas reached out to take the shirt, his fingertips brushing along Dean’s as he plucked the flannel from Dean’s grasp.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of something mischievous.
And if Cas was distracting before walking around shirtless, he was almost more distracting wearing Dean’s plaid shirt.
The urge to shove Cas up against a tree, rip the flannel right off of him, and kiss him senseless burned so hot through Dean’s veins that he stumbled over a tree root.
“I’m good,” Dean muttered, and God, was his voice deeper than normal? Clearing his throat, he pushed through the forest, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over Cas’ back and thinking how sexy he looked in plaid.
The third time Dean saw Cas wearing one of his shirts, Cas was picking his henley up from his bedroom floor, sliding it on with a devilish smirk. The dark look in Cas’ eyes sent a shiver down Dean’s spine, and he couldn’t stop himself from slowly dragging his eyes over Cas’ body; drinking in the way his henley stuck to Cas’ sweaty chest and gripped tightly to his muscles.
“Looks good on you,” Dean said, licking his lips hungrily. He crooked his finger, beckoning Cas closer.
Cas’ smirk turned into a full blow grin, stalking towards Dean who was still on the bed. Dean leaned up and Cas bent down, their mouths meeting in a dirty kiss.
“Never stop wearing my shirts,” Dean gasped against Cas’ mouth.
“Is that a kink, Dean? You like me wearing your clothes?” Cas teased.
“Oh God yes,” Dean groaned, yanking Cas back down on the bed. His hands skimmed over the material of his henley, sliding under the material to dance along Cas’ bare skin.
“That first time, was it on purpose?” Dean asked, tearing his mouth away from Cas’.
Cas smirked, nipping at Dean’s lower lip. “Yes. I thought it might spur you to make a move seeing me wearing your shirts. Plus, they smell like you.”
Dean kissed Cas deeply, feeling Cas laugh brightly against his lips.
