"Cas, I think those are my jeans."
Cas set his cup of tea between his crossed legs, looking up so his blue eyes met Dean's green ones, "Does it matter?"
Dean shrugged.
"Besides," Cas shot him a sly look over the rim of his mug, "I'm fairly certain that's my shirt."
Dean grinned and sat down right behind the other man. He leaned forward to whisper, "You left it on the floor."
Cas turned his head to press a chaste kiss to Dean's lips, "Pretty sure you're the one who put it there."