"C-Cas, no, that's the—no, Cas, really you don't… Oh, whatever."

Realizing his hands were fluttering uselessly, Dean let them drop to his sides, then shoved them into his pockets, sighing as he watched the other man wrestle with a burgundy sweater. He had expected shopping with the angel to be difficult, but…

The writhing stopped, and Dean looked at him dryly, waiting. A muffled voice came from the depths of the garment. "Dean, I seem to have gotten lost."

"You can't get lost in a sweater, Cas."

Despite the irritation feigned in his voice, Dean smiled a little, unable to help but recognize how cute the scene in front of him was. Stepping forward, he started shifting the sweater, locating Cas' arms and head and slipping the fabric around until a familiar face popped through the proper hole. Blinking slightly, as though surprised by the light, Cas turned his gaze to Dean's, the blue clear and serious as ever.

"You saved me." He stated, even though his arms were still tangled up in the stretchy fabric. Dean's eyebrow rose, and his grin grew even as he tried to smother it.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying. Put your hand through this hole. No, this one, Cas, the one I'm… Yes, there. Alright, one down."

A little more wrestling and tugging, and the other sleeve was properly over Castiel's arm. The sweater settled into place over his body, and both looked at it.

"I like it." Cas announced, staring at himself.

"Raise your arms." Dean instructed, crossing his own over his chest. Cas looked at him, blue eyes innocent and trusting, like a sweet old dog. A moment later, his arms were straight up, pointed at the sky. The sleeves fell, dramatically pooling at his shoulders as the cuffs slowed around his biceps. Smiling again, Dean let his chin drop to his chest and let his eyes slide closed. His tongue flicked out to coat his lips and he looked at Cas without raising his head.

"Shoulder height, Cas."

Obediently, the angel let his arms fall forward. Dean hadn't moved back from helping wrangle it on, though, so Cas' forearms bumped against and then rested on Dean's shoulders.

"You're in the way."

Reaching up and chuckling now – he probably should have predicted that – Dean pulled Cas' arms away from his shoulders and stepped back.

"Cas, look at the sleeves."

"I like them."

Dean's eyebrow arched doubtfully. The fabric spilled over Cas' hand and hung limp, too long by almost four inches.

"Where are your hands, Cas." He prompted, and the dark-haired man looked down.

"Oh." His blue gaze met Dean's green one. "The sleeves are too long, Dean."

Now he really couldn't help it. Dean began to laugh, shoulders shaking as his head fell back. Cas stared for a moment, then smiled, the soft one he wore solely for Dean.

"Yeah, yeah I think they are." the hunter finally managed to choke out, his grin broad.

Unable to help himself, Dean glanced around and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Cas' forehead. A sudden wide and pleasantly surprised smile turned up the familiar mouth and Cas' hands, hidden in the too-large sweater, gripped the collar of Dean's jacket to hold him. A quick shift of his head allowed Castiel to deliver a swift but warm and sweet kiss to Dean's mouth.

They released each other quickly, but smiled knowingly before rescuing Cas and attempting to find a sweater of a more appropriate size.