A/N: I was browsing through Hobby Lobby and came across a sign that said: Cute single sock looking for an adoring mate. And then underneath it had cute clothes pins to put single socks on. I turned to my sister and said "I can make a story out of this." She told me to stop making challenges for myself and I told her "Challenge accepted." And let me tell you this came out a lot longer than I thought it would. So enjoy this duck fluff Destiel.

Disclaimer: Kripke's since 2005

Static

Dean closed the door to his house with a sigh. He had put in a long day at work and he had wanted to just go home, but he had to go to the laundry mat. He was down to two shirts and a pair of jeans and his washer broke down two weeks ago. Until he received his pay check next week the laundry mat was his only option.

Which would have been fine and dandy if the washer hadn't eaten his quarters and if he hadn't had to hold his wet laundry for fifteen minutes as he waited for a dryer. Who knew Thursday night was such a popular time to do laundry? As it was, Dean just threw his dry clothes back into his bag and resolved to fold them later.

He walked into his bedroom and tossed the bag on his bed. Winter was beginning to settle on Lawrence and after his day all he wanted to do was sit on his couch and watch Netflix. He opened his fridge to grab a beer and looked to see if anything edible was in there. He moved a carton of eggs and a half gallon of milk to find some leftover vegetable soup from Monday. Seeing as he really didn't feel like cooking he grabbed the bowl and popped it in the microwave.

Dean walked into his living room and turned on his laptop. The familiar background of Sam grumpily wearing moose antlers with Dean's arm slung around Sam's shoulders popped up. Dean navigated to his Netflix list and browsed through it. The microwave beeped and Dean left the living room to grab the steaming bowl and a spoon. He nestled down on the couch and started to watch Doctor Who. Charlie had suggested the show after the two bonded over Star Trek and after Dean admitted his guilty pleasure for sci-fi. As Rose and the Doctor ran from store front mannequins Dean sighed. The holidays always made him feel lonelier and he personally hated the overly cheery season more for it. The rest of the year he was perfectly content hooking up at bars, but there was something about the time between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day that made him long for something permanent. Someone who would have been home when Dean got back from the laundry mat, possibly with a hot meal. Or would have gone with him so he hadn't been so damn bored. Regardless, by the time the episode and his soup were done he was in an odd mood. A particularly sappy one he refused to ever admit. He walked into his bedroom, a yawn passing through his lips, and caught a glimpse of his bag full of waded up, wrinkled, but at least clean, laundry. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair. He tossed the bag to the floor and stripped down to his boxers. The laundry could wait a couple of more hours.

-o-O-o-

The blaring, incessant beeping from his alarm clock woke him. Dean sat up and ran his hands over his face, rubbing away the sleep. He turned off the alarm so it would stop god damn beeping and looked at the time. 7:45. He had fifteen minutes to make it to work. Damn alarm clock had gone off for fifteen minutes straight and he hadn't even heard it.

He must have been more tired than he thought.

He crawled out of bed and promptly tripped over his laundry bag. Dean swore and opened it, grabbing the first set of clothes he could find before pulling them on. He rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a lone Pop Tart from when Sam had visited last and thanked God that he had a coffee maker that was programmed to make coffee. He poured some in a mug, downing it black and quickly, before shoving the Pop Tart in his mouth and grabbing his keys. He was out the door by 7:52.

He had eight minutes.

He could make it.

Do to being late(ish) at least once a week Dean had an emergency route that only had two stops signs and one stop light.

He pulled in at 7:59 blaring Led Zeppelin.

"Cuttin' it a bit close there ain't ya?"

Dean grinned as he stepped out of his car. "C'mon Bobby. You know I'll always make it fine."

Bobby scoffed and playfully smacked Dean's shoulder as he passed him. "Sure ya idjit."

Dean clocked in and grabbed his coveralls from his locker. As he lowered his feet into the pant legs a sock fell. "What the hell?"

It was long, a bit lumpy, with uneven blue and black stripes.

Dean picked it up and it felt soft. He didn't know much about crafts and hobbies or whatever, but he definitely knew it wasn't store bought. A few ends poked out, along with a few knots, and it looked knitted. Or crocheted. Dean couldn't tell the difference. At the top of the sock was a small, sewn in patch. The words, 'Made with Love by: ANNA', were printed in blue and the 'o' in love was a heart. Definitely homemade.

Dean tried to think of when he might have picked up this odd and clearly not his sock when it hit him: Sam.
The giant moose had used the duffel Dean had used to carry his laundry in the last time he visited. And wasn't his girlfriend crafty or something? He couldn't remember her name at the moment, but maybe it was Anna. Dean shoved the sock in his pocket and pulled his phone out to call his brother.

After the third ring Sam picked up. "Hello?"

"Is your girlfriend's name Anna?"

There was a loud yawn at the other end. "No, it's Jessica why?"

"Did you ever date an Anna?"

"There was Amy and Amelia."

Dean sighed exasperated. "I thought your girlfriend did crafts and stuff."

"She bakes cookies Dean. Why did you call me at eight in the morning to discuss the hobbies of my past and current girlfriend?"

"I found a random sock in my laundry."

"How did that happen?"

"That's why I'm asking you. I had go to the laundry mat because my washer's broken, so I used the duffle bag you borrowed-"

"You went to a laundry mat?"

"Yeah, but I didn't-"

"Dean that's obviously where you picked up the sock."

"Gross, I have a stranger's sock in my laundry."

"What's it look like any way?"

"Why?"

"You asked if my girlfriend's name was Anna, right. So there must have been some kind of label, right?"

"Um..yeah. It's obviously a guy's sock, or I guess it could be a tall chick's, but it's got blue and black stripes. It's homemade and has a patch thingy that says made with love by Anna."

"What are you going to do with it?"

Dean shrugged even though Sam couldn't see it through the phone. "Toss it I guess. The owner probably already has with theirs."

"I don't know. They might be looking."

"Why? It's just a freaking sock."

"Someone made it for them. There could be some sentimentality."

Dean sighed. "What do you want me to do? Put up found posters for the sock at the laundry mat?"

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"It fell off my shirt when I tried to put on my coveralls this morning."

"I bet it was in the dryer. Static electricity and all. What dryer did you use?"

"Six I think."

"Good, add that to the sign too."

"Were you being serious? Because I was joking. I'm not going to be making signs. It's. A. Freakin'. Sock."

"Dean, someone put a lot of time and love making that sock and I'm sure someone's missing it."

He ran his hand down his face. "I have to work. I'll talk to you later."

"Dean-"

He tapped end call, cutting Sam off. He put his phone back in his pocket and looked at the sock. He stared at it before shoving it back in his pocket with a scoff. It was just a sock.

-o-O-o-

Dean couldn't believe he was doing it. Here he was, taping a Sharpie marked sign above the dryer the sock had supposedly escaped out of. He wasn't even going to do it. He had even held the sock above his trash can and everything, but as he was about to let it drop he remembered Sam's words and felt guilty.

Damn chick flicky little brother.

Instead he pulled out a Sharpie and a piece of paper and wrote up a quick sign.

Cute single sock looking for adorning mate. Tall, blue and black striped, 'Made with love by: Anna' patch. Found in dryer six. If yours call 913-555-9716.

It wasn't much, and weirdly enough sounded like a dating site bio, but he could at least say he tried. Dean asked the manger if it would be alright to put the sign up and he just rolled his eyes and handed him the Scotch tape. And reminded him there was a lost and found for these kind of things. He quickly put it up and didn't stay to admire his work. He had done his part, now all he had to do was wait for the owner.

If anything, Dean thought they'd claim it quickly and then this whole sock fiasco would be behind him. But that wasn't the case. After the first few days he didn't think anything about it, but after the first week he almost felt bad for the sock. Almost. He checked at the laundry mat to see if the sign was still up when he went to do a load of towels, but it was still there. By the time he had his washer fixed and running smoothly no one had laid claim to the wayward sock. The sock had become such a permanent fixture on top of his dresser that when the unknown number called him he didn't think anything of it. "Hello?"

"Um...yes. Hello." The voice was deep and a bit gruff. "I was wondering if you still had that sock?"

"Are you the owner?"

"Yes. Is there any possible way we could meet up so you could return it to me?"

"You want the sock that bad?"

"If it's going to be any trouble I can just give you my address so you can mail it."

Dean half smiled. "No, it's fine. I'll text you my address. You can come by tonight if you want."

"Thank you."

"Hey wait. Can you bring the other one? Just so I know it's going to the right person." Dean blushed.

"Of course."

"Cool. Um..bye I guess."

"Good bye."

It was the weirdest phone call Dean had ever participated in. He texted the unknown number his address and added him to his contacts as 'Sock Guy'. For practical reasons of course. It wasn't just because he thought the guy's voice was hot or anything.

Dean pocketed his phone and went back to shaping ground hamburger into patties. It had been awhile since he made hamburgers and he was having the worst craving. He just placed them on the grill situated inside his kitchen's island when there was a brisk knock on his door. He quickly washed his hands and made his way to his front door and pulled it open.

Damn, the guy was even better looking than he sounded.

He had dark tousled hair, popping blue eyes, a bit of stubble, and his hands buried deep in the pockets of a slightly too big trench coat.

"Are," Dean swallowed. "Are you the sock guy?"

He smiled. "Yes. Could I come in? It's cold."

"Uh, yeah, of course." Dean stepped aside and the stranger stepped in. "I didn't think you would be this quick. You must really love that sock."

"Actually, I live two blocks from here in the apartment complex."

Dean led the stranger to the kitchen and gestured to a bar stool against the counter. "Have a seat. You want a beer?"

The stranger cocked his head to the side. "I thought you were just going to have me pick up my sock?"

"Well, yeah, but I kinda wanna know the story behind it. That is if I'm not prying?"

"Of course not".

Dean looked at the man and swallowed again. "Let me go and get it." He disappeared off to his bedroom and picked the sock up. He reappeared in the kitchen and handed it to the other man.

He smiled when Dean presented him with the sock. "There you are," he said softly and fondly. He reached into his trench coat's pocket and pulled out a near twin. He rolled the two together. "Back together again." He put them in his pocket.

Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge and slid one across the counter to the stranger. "You can lose the coat. My name's Dean by the way."

"Castiel," he said as he opened his beer.

Dean flipped the burgers and opened his beer. "So who's Anna? I couldn't help but see it on the label."

Castiel's eyebrows fell into a melancholy smile as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a white button down and blue argyle sweater. "She's my sister."

Dean internally smiled. Not girlfriend. "She did a nice job on the socks. That takes a lot of skill."

"She was always very good."

Dean swigged his beer and tried to figure out a way to keep the conversation going. "The socks kinda look like you."

Castiel grinned. "Anna was like that. She thought it was quite hilarious. She made them because, and I quote, 'you need more fun socks.'"

"She sounds cool. Does she still make you fun socks?"

The glow in Castiel's face faded again. "Unfortunately no. She died two years ago."

Dean instantly felt uncomfortably. "Sorry man."

"It's fine. You didn't know."

Dean pulled the hamburgers off the grill and plated both of them up. He had been planning to put the other one in the fridge to have for dinner the next day, but Castiel looked like he needed it more. He pushed it in front of the other man.

"I possibly couldn't. I've already imposed on your hospitality long enough," he insisted.

"No, I don't mind. C'mon they're good," coaxed Dean.

Castiel picked it up and tentatively took a bite. He smiled and continued eating.

Dean grinned and ate part of his. "So, why did Anna start making socks? Aren't socks like, super complicated?"

He paused and looked down at her plate. "She started knitting when she learned she was pregnant." He paused and grinned. "But she refused to make anything baby related. She said it was too cliché. Instead she made scarves, hats, and socks. She even made tea cozies."

Dean smirked. "I like her style."

Castiel nodded. "My socks were her last completed project. She died from complications due to child birth. The child didn't make it either." He let loose a long sigh. "When I lost that sock I freaked out." He looked up at Dean. "Pretty weird huh?"

"Naw, they're important to you."

"I hadn't even noticed at the beginning since those socks aren't even supposed to be machine washed or dried. Those were her last words to me: 'Castiel, if you put those socks in the freakin' washer or dryer I will hunt you down and gag you with them.'" He rolled his eyes with a sad shake of his head. "She was a bit overdramatic during her pregnancy. Still, I followed her words. I wouldn't put it past her to haunt me to make sure I followed those directions. I normally keep them with the others."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Others? I thought you said those were the only ones she made you."

The tops of Castiel's ears turned pink. "After she died I didn't want to throw out her knitting supplies, so I learned. I only ever make socks though."

"You must feel closer to her when you knit, don't you," said Dean quietly.

Castiel's eyebrows knitted together. "Why would you say that exactly?"

It was Dean's turn to blush. "It's why I cook and bake so much. My mom used to, but after she died I hoarded all her recipe cards with her handwriting and learned how to make them. I feel closer to her then."

Castiel nodded. "Yeah, I do." There was a lull of awkward silence. "I should probably go. You have been more than kind to me. Thank you for returning the sock and for the hamburger. You do know your way around a kitchen."

"Thanks," Dean said with a cocky grin.

Castiel shrugged his trench coat back on. "Good bye Dean."

He gave him a short half wave. "Bye Cas."

He left, Dean still smiling.

-o-O-o-

Dean was pretty sure that after a week he still shouldn't be missing that damn sock. But maybe it was actually he missed its owner a hell of a lot more. He had gone back to the laundry mat and taken down the sign, the only indicator now that the incident even took place was the newly renamed contact in his phone. As he walked into his house, arms full of groceries, he thought about how it would be to spend the holiday season with Castiel. It would certainly make enduring the Christmas sales before Thanksgiving even passed, easier. So many times Dean's finger hovered over the call option, or begin a text only to delete it. It just seemed inappropriate to him to try and hit on a guy who really only wanted the last present his dead sister ever gave him back. The doorbell rang and Dean prayed to sweet baby Jesus, who was already in his manger on a few of his neighbors' lawns, it was not carolers. Obnoxious Christmas advertisements he could handle, carolers before Thanksgiving he could not. There was a line and he wouldn't put it passed anyone to cross it. So when he saw Castiel's electric blue eyes he was both confused and gob smacked.

Castiel's eyes lit up as he grinned when Dean opened the door. He was wearing the same trench coat, but this time he had a blue scarf knotted at his throat. His cheeks were chapped a pink-red from the cold. "Hello Dean," he said, the words forming frosty puffs in the air.

"Cas...what brought you here?"

He blushed and pulled a hastily wrapped package out of his trench coat. "I wanted to thank you properly." He handed it to Dean.

His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the ribbon holding it together.

"It's not much..., but, um," he coughed.

"Why don't you come inside," he said, stepping aside.

He turned away quickly. "No, I should really go."

"I insist. It's freaking cold out here and I have hot chocolate." When he was still situated on the front step Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Castiel's hand to drag him into the house. "Don't mind the mess. I just brought the groceries in."

He unknotted his scarf and shoved it into his coat pocket before hanging it up on a hook. He was in a green sweater with small white stripes at the collar today.

Dean pulled out milk and poured it into two mugs, setting each in the microwave and pressing the beverage button twice. He sat the package on the island. "Should I open this now?"

"Only if you want to." He rubbed the back of his neck. "To be honest I never really planned to be here when you did."

"How come?"

Castiel didn't answer, but instead absentmindedly chewed at his bottom lip. Dean couldn't help but wish he could be doing that to him right then.

Dean undid the bow and lifted some of the paper away. Nestled inside the white tissue paper was a pair of socks that mirrored Castiel's sweater: the same deep shade of green with thin white stripes running through it. He lifted one up, rubbing the pads of his fingers again the soft yarn, and couldn't help but wonder if Castiel's sweater would feel that soft too.

He immediately blushed. "It's nothing special, I just made it from leftover yarn. I started making this sweater a year and a half ago, but gave up and just stuck to socks. I've picked it back up over the passing months, but never really thought I'd finish. After you returned my sock to me I finished it that weekend. I had a skein and a half leftover, so I thought I could at least try and return the kind favor you paid me. I don't know if they'll fit, but-"

"Cas," Dean interrupted.

"Yes."

He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I love them."

Castiel was blushing furiously.

The microwave beeped.

Dean slipped the socks on, which fit pretty well, and grinned. "You still want that hot chocolate?"

He beamed up at Dean, slipping off his shoes to reveal he was wearing the blue and black striped socks. "Yes."

Dean opened the microwave and took out the two steaming mugs and poured in chocolate mix. As he stirred it in, he smiled. Maybe he would have someone to spend the holidays with this year. And the remaining three hundred sixty five days after.

A/N: I'm thinking about adding a few more one-shots to this to cover Thanksgiving, Christmas and possibly New Years. Tell me what you guys think by favoriting, following or/and reviewing.