Sam and Dean were in Indiana, investigating some ghosts. Nothing special about it. The two of them were once again in a crappy motel, leaving the bunker alone. Dean already missed his morning coffee. „But I don't get it!", Sam said fort he fifth time. „Why would she want to kill her husband if he loved her?" Dean sighed. „Maybe she wanted …" he stopped, reaching for a folder his eye fell on.
„Dude look at this!", Dean grapped the piece of paper Sam hasn't paid much attention to. „What the…", His eyes widened. „I'll go check this out, you stay here and be on call.", Sam said, already grabbing his duffle bag. His brother didn't protested. Since Cas hadn't shown a single blink of himselve in the last 8 days, Dean was worried sick and could hardly concentrate on anything. „Fine, be careful. Those dead ladies can be rough!". It was supposed to come out as a joke but it sounded more like he tried to hard to be normal. Sam just gave him a sad look. „If he's in trouble he would've let us know." He said. Dean lowered his head and nodded. Sam left and closed the door behind him.
Dean was all alone and as a method that he didn't have to think about Cas, he started to clean his guns. Twice. He just came out oft he bathroom as he heard a familiar rush of wings. Dean spinned around and there was Cas, alive as it seemed and standing 2 feet away from him. Deans eyes widened in surprise and relief. Cas took it wrong. „I-i… apologize, personal space i kno…" but Dean suffocated the words in a huge hug. „Man i was so worried about you!", Dean let Cas out oft he hug but still squeezed his tiny shoulders under the trenchcoat. Dean smiled. The first time since eight days and it felt amazing.
„Next time, at least write a postcard!", Dean joked. Cas crumbled his eyebrows. „I don't think you would even recieve it."
Dean sighed and sat down on the bed again. Cas took place at the little dining table. „What've you been doing?", Dean asked, starting to clean again. But now more for fun than distraction. „I have been … investigating." Cas tried to avoid making eye contact with Dean.
„Come on man, you can tell me."
Cas stood up very fast and nearly flipped the table. Dean looked up from his machete. „Dude, what's wrong? Seriously, you're creepin' me out." Without a word, Cas put a hand into his coat, searching for something Dean had long forgotten about.
Dean was curious about what was inside his pocket… and under his trenchcoat and under … Dean blushed and shook his head a little as he was trying to swap away a fly, trying to get these toughts out of his head. They were in appropriate.
„I just… i managed to find it. But i didn't do it on purpose, i swear!" Cas seemed nervous which made Dean nervous. Cas was icecool and down-to-earth. When something managed to make him nervous… Boy, Dean was scared.
Cas slowly pulled the hand out of his pocket, holding a leather necklace between his fingers. A little indian brace hung on the end, making it look like it was stolen from a crappy market. But Dean knew it wasn't. It was… He stood up. „Where did you get that?", he asked, his voice cold as ice. „I just found it, i promise.", Cas tried to explain.
„Sure.",Dean snorted.