Because I saw the S13 stills

They don’t talk about it, but Dean knows Sam knows he keeps the coat. He knows because Sam frowned a little after digging Cas’s grave, climbing out of the six-foot deep hole only to find his big brother still cradling the lifeless form of an angel wearing a white shirt and a blue tie in his arms—no coat. But Dean had tears dripping from his nose, and his hand shook as he murmured and pleaded and pushed dark hair away from Cas’s brow, and he asked his brother for “ten more minutes, Sammy. He’s gonna come back, you’ll see. Just give him ten more minutes.” Cas smelled like ozone and books.

Twenty minutes later, Sam Winchester coaxed his brother into burying an Angel of the Lord. (“No Hunter’s funeral. If he’s gonna come back, he needs a body.”) 

So Dean knows that Sam knows. But he’s pretty sure Sam doesn’t know the rest of it. He’s pretty sure that Sam doesn’t know he hasn’t washed the thing, and never will. That when things get really bad, he slips on the coat and buries himself under the covers and imagines Cas spooned up against him like they never got to do but had unspoken agreement of both wanting. He keeps it under his pillow, otherwise. It smells like ozone and books. When they’re on hunts, he packs it in the bottom of his duffle just in case they get a call and need to bring it to a resurrected angel.

After a while, the coat no longer smells like ozone and books.

The first time Dean realizes that, he tosses and turns until it’s four am and he’s wearing the damn thing, sitting on his bed with a half-empty bottle of Jack and praying like Cas is gonna flap down at any moment: “Please, just come back…”

He doesn’t come back.

Not when Dean asks nicely, not when he rages, not when he begs. Nothing happens. And, eventually, Dean Winchester hangs up Castiel’s coat in his closet—a little worse for the wear, now—and only touches it occasionally; when he’s getting clothes, or thinks of something Cas would’ve liked. Eventually, it becomes less about not wanting to live without Castiel, and more about enjoying his memory. Still, he vows never to forget the smell of ozone and books.

Dean is the one who opens the door months later. He’s the one whose knees almost buckle when he sees blue eyes. He’s the one who stumbles forward and practically tackles the other to the ground because he can’t believe it. Who smiles, and cries, and laughs, and buries his face in ozonebookscas. He’s the one who vows to never anything happen to the angel ever again.

“I have your coat,” is the first thing he says.

Castiel’s hands hold tight to where they’re gripping Dean’s plaid over-shirt. He nods, and sniffles, and presses a kiss to light hair. His chest moves in staccato, overwhelmed breaths. Dean thinks it’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

“Thank you,” Cas eventually answers.

me: *shoves my entire face into my cat’s body*

cat: *heaves a heavy sigh as he grimly accepts his fate*