It took a couple of weeks for Castiel to get used to his senses, and even then he wasn't fully on board with the whole human thing. Dean doubted he'd ever be okay with it,but Castiel seemed to be handling it with a calmness that Dean doubted he'd be able to have in such a devastating situation. The ex-angel started showering, brushing his teeth, eating, urinating – everything that comes with being human. He told Dean once, when he was just starting to get into the rhythm of humanity, that these activities were very tiresome. They take a lot out of the day. Dean responded by telling Cas he didn't really have much to do other than hang out anyway.

Castiel sulked for a whole day after that one.

In the end, Castiel had stolen almost every article of clothing Dean had, including a handful of his boxers. He was starting to get sick of it.

"Dean," Castiel said one morning, walking down the stairs. He was wearing a pair of scuffed jeans. No shirt, no shoes, no belt. The line of Dean's underwear peaked up through the slouching pants. "You need to do laundry."

"Again?" Dean scoffed. "It hasn't even been a full week since the last time we washed 'em!"

"Perhaps that's because there's two of us, and you keep insisting that I wear different outfits everyday."

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood up from his spot on the couch. "That's it, we're going shopping."

"What?"

"Shopping. I said we'd do it a long time ago and we never did."

"That's because we don't need to."

"Damn it, Cas, I'm sick of doing laundry every day!"

"You do laundry twice a week."

"It's still a lot of work, man. We're going to buy you clothes and then I'm gonna teach you how to use the damn washing machine." His eyes involuntarily glanced down to Castiel's chest. "Now go put a shirt on and meet me in the car."

Castiel frowned, but did as he was told.

Dean took him to the nearest clothing store in town.

"I don't have all that much saved up," he admitted when they stepped foot inside, "so I'd really appreciate it if you didn't send all my money. I don't think I could get away with a bank job."

The footsteps behind him ceased, and Dean turned to see Castiel standing in the middle of the aisle. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was giving him that concerned look he always seemed to have.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

Dean rolled his eyes. He walked over to Castiel and slid a hand between his shoulder blades, physically guiding hi out of the way of other customers. "A bank job," he repeated. His hand falls to Castiel's lower back as they walk deeper into the men's section. "It means I'd have to rob a bank."

Castiel frowned. "You wouldn't do that, Dean."

"It was a joke."

The pair continued to weave their way through clothes racks and people. They passed a full body mirror, and Dean was suddenly away of the placement of his hand. He pulled his arm back, flexing his fingers until they stopped tingling. He cleared his throat and stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"How about we get you some new shoes first?"

They ended up spending five hours going from store to store just to find something that Castiel not only liked, but looked decent on him. Dean was able to steer him away from a pair of loafers, but couldn't stop him from buying a black shirt with a blue winged cross on the back. The shirt was much better suited for an angsty teenager than an adult, but Castiel seemed to like it enough to disregard Dean's opinion.

Once home, Dean took all of the bags from Castiel and headed for the stairs. "I'm gonna put these in the closet," he called over his shoulder.

Aware that Castiel was following him, Dean walked into Sam's old room and dumped everything onto the bed.

Castiel stood in the doorway, peering inside. "Dean... Are you letting me stay in this bedroom?"

"Course I am, Cas." Dean pulled open the closet door and took out a few hangers. "Sam's not coming back," he said, bringing the hangers over to the bed. He picked up the shirts and started to put them over the hangers. "It might as well be used for something."

With a deep breath, Castiel inched further into the room. He frowned, his eyes focusing back on Dean as he hung the clothes. "I can't let you do this," he said.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed some more clothes. "What are you talking about?"

"This room is important to you."

Dean huffed. "It's just a room. Besides, Cas, seeing you sleep on the couch is physically painful. I can feel the stiff back." When Castiel didn't look convinced, Dean sighed. "Look," he said, "you're family now. You deserve your own bed."

Castiel's breathing hitched. His eyes widened as he stared at Dean. He blinked a few times and caught his breath. The previously shocked expression turned into that of puzzlement. "Family," he repeated.

Dean shook his head. "Dude, don't get all mushy on me."

"You really consider me family?"

Turning his back to Castiel, Dean half shrugged. He swallowed a lump in his throat and started putting the rest of the clothes away. "Yeah," he said. His entire body felt tense, yelling at him to shut up and just leave it at that. But the look on Castiel's face was just too hopeful. "I mean, sure, I didn't know it at the time, but you've had my back since the day I was born." He turned to face him, forcing a smile. "If that doesn't scream family, then I don't know what does."

Castiel watched him carefully.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle. "It is weird to think about how old you are, though."

Those blue eyes only continued to stare at him in silence. The ex-angel didn't even seem to be trying to formulate a coherent thought.

Shaking his head, the forced smile turned genuine. Dean walked over to the door, stopping under the doorframe and turning to look back at Castiel. "You, uh, you know where everything is. So, just..." he cleared his throat. "Make yourself at home. I guess."

For a moment, Dean didn't think that he was going to respond. He was just about to turn around and head down the hall when finally, Castiel nodded. "That's what I've been doing."

Dean grinned, body finally relaxing, and turned away from the room.

"Dean," Castiel said.

He stopped, hesitating only a second before turning back around.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Cas."