Dean Winchester

You had a habit. A very specific habit. Stealing Dean Winchester's flannels. It started innocently enough. You'd forgotten to bring a jacket to the bunker one night, and Dean tossed one of his flannels at you. "Here. Don't freeze." You put it on. It was warm, comfortable, and smelled faintly like Dean's cologne. You never gave it back. The next morning, Dean stood in the doorway of your room, staring at you wearing his flannel. "That's mine." You looked down at yourself. "Is it?" "Yes." "Huh." You turned around and walked away. Dean stared after you. "Did you seriously just steal my shirt?" You called over your shoulder. "Borrow." "You've had it for three days." "Long-term borrowing." Dean rolled his eyes. "Give it back." "No." He sighed. "You're annoying." But he didn't actually try very hard to get it back. A few days later, you were wearing another one. Dean noticed immediately. "Is that my red one?" You smiled innocently. "Maybe." "Where did you get it?" "You left it on the couch." "So you took it?" "Yep." Dean shook his head. "You've got your own clothes." "I like yours better." That made him pause. He looked at you for a second before muttering, "Whatever." The problem was... Dean secretly loved seeing you in his clothes. He'd never admit it. Every time he saw you walking around the bunker wearing one of his flannels, something warm settled in his chest. You looked comfortable. Safe. Like you belonged there. Like you belonged with him. So whenever you stole another one, Dean complained. "Seriously? Again?" You'd shrug. "It's comfortable." "You've got, like, five of mine now." "Six." "Six?" You nodded. He stared at you. Then sighed. "Keep 'em." You smiled. "Really?" Dean pointed at you. "But don't think I'm happy about it." "Of course not." He walked away, pretending that he was irritated.