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It's laundry day (yes, they have a laundry day, shut up Sam) and Dean sputters when his mom takes the basket from his hand, putting herself in the chores rotation.
They've had the 'I'm not Suzy Homemaker' talk and he's accepted that about her no problem. (He might've been a little bummed that meant the perfect apple pie he remembers came from a bakery and he can't beg for a recipe, but whatever. He's over it.)
He's trying to find the words to tell his mom that he's capable of doing his own laundry—for the past 25 years or so—and she doesn't have to do it.
But she's giving him a look. A look that has the words dying on his tongue, throat bobbing as he swallows and just nods.
It’s been so long since he's had a 'mom look' leveled at him, but it works just as well as it did 30 some years ago and the fight goes out of him and he just waves a hand in acquiescence.
There's pink, light blue and lilac in the laundry basket, making his face heat with the thought of sorting through it, so maybe it's for the best...
But the reminder of why he doesn't hate laundry day is when Cas follows after his mom like an eager little duckling, another basket perched on his hip, looking comfortable with his socked feet and his sleeves rolled up.
He has no idea why Cas digs the scent of fabric softener enough to volunteer to help with the laundry, but it's not terrible having company so he doesn't tell Cas to buzz off.
He watches Cas follow his mom, his low voice a murmur as they talk about... something.
As much as he likes seeing them get along, he needs to get out of there for a bit. He snags the shopping list off the fridge and heads to the garage.
.:.
Dean tries not to stare, nearly drops the grocery bags to the floor when his arms go a little slack.
Cas and his mom are folding laundry on the war table, like it's no big deal, their shoulders brushing occasionally as they work. They're quiet, but he has a feeling they've been talking again.
Cas has that look on his face, the one that says he's trying to figure something out but is giving his mom the quiet and time to sort through whatever they've been talking about. He can't help smiling at the pair of them, something warm settling in him.
He didn't really expect them to get along as well as they do, not after his mom pulled a gun on Cas (and Cas looking a twitch of a finger away from smiting her in her borrowed boots). But then Cas gave him that look when he'd understood that woman pointing a gun on him was his mom, so he should've expected it.
He's pretty sure Cas is sticking even closer to her these days and he's absolutely not jealous. (And even if he was—which he isn't—he has no idea which of them would be the focus.)
He makes enough noise with the bags to get their attention and feels a little overwhelmed when they both look up and smile warmly at him. Cas is the first to look away this time, eyes crinkled with affection even as he goes back to sorting socks, giving him the moment with his mom.
It takes a lot more restraint than he expects to not drop the bags and stalk over there to kiss him.
But the kissing thing is still too new to just lay one on Cas with his mom right there. His mom, whom he hasn't told about the thing between them.
He sets the bags down on the table a safe distance away from clean laundry, leaning against the table's edge as he watches Cas pile the clothes into separate piles.
He doesn't comment on their piles being a little too close together, no sense in bringing it up since his mom isn't giving them that weird look she's been doing since Cas went in for the dramatic hug.
Mary gives Dean's shoulder a soft rub in greeting and peeks in the shopping bags before grabbing a few and heading into the kitchen to help put them away.
She glances over her shoulder to see Dean shuffling closer to Castiel, close enough his chest is nearly touching Castiel's arm, a hand settling between his shoulder blades for a moment.
A long moment.
She knows she should give them privacy, Dean waited until she left for a reason, she's just curious. Castiel has said much about Dean, but it's been hard to figure out just how they... fit together.
She's oddly disappointed when Dean's hand just slides down a few inches before he steps away, picking up the last of the shopping bags. Cas looks after Dean with warmth in his eyes, expression soft, for a moment before going back to sorting and balling the socks like she showed him.
Cas had been at her elbow nearly the entire time, close but not uncomfortably so, silent as usual.
He’s nice to talk to; willing to speak just as much as listen. And he doesn't feel the need to fill the silences with stories and things she's missed over the past 30 years—unless she asks.
She appreciates Dean's openness, but the look of guilt has yet to completely leave his eyes and she can't take it for long. He seems to understand when to stop, when she needs a moment to process everything, though.
And it's a lot to process.
She’d spent a good portion of the comfortable silence side eyeing Cas. Noticing the oddly fond look on his face, mouth quirked, blue eyes warm. It's not something she'd expect on an angel's face when looking at laundry.
Then again, Castiel has pretty much smashed any thoughts she ever had about angels.
Their first moments hadn't been much to build off of, but the moment he knew who she was, the way looked between Dean and her as he said ‘your mother’, she could see the change in his demeanor. It hadn't changed much over the last few days, either. It's odd to receive such respectful attention from an angel (one who enjoys doing laundry and takes naps, no less), but she's adjusting.
She focuses on sorting through the bags when Dean enters the kitchen, the rest of the bags hanging from his hands. She eventually just stands out if the way, listening and watching, as Dean putters around, putting things away and thinking aloud about what to make for dinner.
When Cas pokes his head into the kitchen, Dean gives him a small, warm smile and waves him over to help with slicing, she figures she'll give them a moment and go finish the folding.
She smiles to herself as she walks away, Dean's bright laughter following her.