[FIC] That's What Christmas is All About, Castiel (NC-17) for Thevinegarworks
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: That’s What Christmas is All About, Castiel
Recipient: thevinegarworks
Author: ember_firedrake
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,850
Warnings: The usual NC-17 stuff. Slight sleep!kink.
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Apocalypse is two years past, and Dean just wants to have a normal Christmas with Castiel. The problem is, he’s never had a “normal” Christmas in his life. And Castiel is having a hard time making sense of some Christmas traditions.
Author notes: Title shamelessly taken from A Charlie Brown Christmas. I tried to incorporate aspects from all three of my giftee’s prompts, particularly this: “Dean is bound and determined he's going to do this Christmas right, goddammit. Allusions to the past and all of Sam&Dean's fucked up Christmases before would be greatly appreciated, but please no vicious hate on Papa John.”
This: “Anything centered around Dean, Sam, and Cas (and preferably Bobby if you can work him in too!) trying to have a "normal" Christmas dinner. Some sort of lulzy interruptions, whether because Cas is confused about what they're supposed to be doing or because the boys can't cook a decent meal to save their lives”
And this: “Cas giving Dean a very unique gift special to just them. Preferably would involve Cas thinking Christmas tradition is silly and false, but indulging anyway because he sees how happy it makes Dean.”
In the two years since the Apocalypse was averted, Dean’s gotten pretty good at reading Castiel. It’s a direct consequence of all their time spent together back when icing the Devil was priority number one, when discussions of personal space were a regular occurrence (though why those discussions were so important to him at the time, Dean can’t figure, as they seemed detrimental to both of their desires at the time).
When Lucifer had finally been defeated, Castiel had been forgiven by the Host, and welcomed back to Heaven. Castiel had politely declined, citing his desire to remain with Dean, and help rebuild Earth. Surprisingly, Heaven had allowed it, and Castiel had even been able to retain most of his angelic abilities, though diminished. In order to “bend the rules”, Castiel’s brothers had had to come up with some sort of job title for him, something along the lines of “Angel Ambassador and Reconnaissance.” At least, that’s what Dean liked to think Cas’ title was.
Point being, Castiel had remained pretty much by Dean’s side ever since, and in that time they’d both become good at reading one another. Which is why it was so refreshing to see Castiel with his confused head tilt; it hadn’t made an appearance in a while.
“I’m not sure I understand, Dean.”
“What’s not to understand? It’s Christmas, and it’s only a week away! Come on, you’re an angel, you’re supposed to like the holiday. I mean, half of the Christmas trees are decorated with you guys on top!” Dean realized, after it had been said, that the last comment was perhaps not the best thing to say.
Sure enough, Cas pursed his lips in a classic I’m-humoring-you-because-I-love-you expression.
“What’s the point? For a holiday that claims to celebrate the birth of Jesus, it does that very little. It’s been commercialized to the point where it is unrecognizable. Furthermore, Jesus was born in late summer, the December 25th date comes from Christianity’s early attempts to subsume pagan winter festivals and the Roman holiday Dies Natalis Solis Invicti-”
“Yeah, Cas, I get it. Sam gave me that whole schpiel years ago. And there weren’t any bunnies as Jesus’ crucifixion either. That’s not the point.” Dean rolled his eyes, but it was mostly in a good-natured way.
“Then what is the point?” Castiel asked, shifting closer to Dean as he talked, something that always happened for any conversation of theirs, given enough time. It was like they had subconscious homing beacons programmed on each other.
“When’d you become such a Grinch?” Dean asked, flicking Cas’ nose and then hooking his arm around the angel’s neck until their faces were inches apart. “The point is to spend time with the people you love. You’re supposed to eat too much, exchange gifts, watch movies, play in the snow, and drink eggnog. All that and more. It’s about the fact that we stopped the end of the world and lived to talk about it, but since that point I haven’t had a proper Christmas with my family. You, me, Bobby, and Sam.”
Castiel gave Dean one of the rare smiles he let out whenever Dean included the angel as part of his “family”. It was a grateful, happy smile, still a little shy even though Dean had made it perfectly clear to Cas how deeply he cared about him.
“If it means that much to you, Dean, then of course I would love to take part.”
Dean grinned. “Good. Time for Christmas Tradition Lesson number one.”
Dean tilted his head upwards toward the motel ceiling fan, where a sprig of mistletoe was attached to the pull chain. Castiel followed his gaze.
“Whenever you’re under the mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them.”
“Actually, the significance of mistletoe dates back to Norse mythology, when Loki-”
“Cas?” Dean interrupted.
“Yes, Dean?”
“Kiss me.”
Castiel arched an eyebrow at Dean, and Dean leaned forward with his eyes closed, lips inviting. A moment later, he felt hands on either side of his face, which pulled him into a demanding and hungry kiss. Dean stifled a moan, then returned the kiss, allowing Cas’ tongue to map the inside of his mouth.
When they broke apart, several minutes later, Dean took a moment to enjoy the sight of Castiel’s lips, reddened from kissing. “I think you’ve got the idea. Just…don’t do that if it’s Sam or Bobby.”
*****
A lot had changed for Castiel in two years. He was still an angel, something that he was thankful for, though he gladly would have given it up for Dean. Jimmy’s soul was long since departed, but his body had become as familiar to Castiel as his own true form. In some ways more so, as he never felt so deeply as he did when in human form.
Some things for Castiel were the same. He could still travel as he once did, from place to place in the blink of an eye, though longer distances tended to make him feel tired. He got the sense that Dean preferred it when he took the passenger seat of the Impala, anyway. He could still heal himself and others to an extent, but more serious wounds took time to mend. Other abilities such as time travel and demon killing were no longer available to him. It had taken some getting used to, but he had gotten over his initial fear of being powerless.
The biggest change for Castiel was the way he perceived time. For angels, time is nothing. It is fluid, as he once told Dean, a lifetime ago. In Heaven, time moves both fast and slow, unlike Hell where it only moves slowly. When Castiel was recalled to Heaven to be “reeducated”, back when Jimmy was left with the Winchesters, his time there seemed drawn out into weeks. But to Heaven, the passing of a few years on Earth means nothing.
It was everything to Castiel. Two years, during which time he had felt in more ways than he could possibly imagine. He had felt the passing of those years as any human would. In many ways, Castiel knew that this new perception of his began the moment he pulled Dean from Hell. His life as he knew it began four years ago.
Castiel agreed to Christmas because it was Dean, really. And where Dean was concerned he could not truly refuse, not when it was something that mattered so much to Dean, in spite of Castiel’s own opinions of the holiday.
“Dean?” Castiel asked. They were in the Impala, on the way to Bobby’s house.
“Yeah, Cas?”
“Gift giving is expected during the modern Christmas tradition, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, sure it is, but you don’t have to get me anything. We aren’t going to really have a formal gift-giving, since it’s on such short notice. Not to mention, we’re all guys. We never know what to get each other.”
“Are you getting something for me?” Castiel asked, voice curious.
Dean glanced sideways at Castiel, giving him a smile before saying, “Yeah, I am. But that’s because I wanted to get something for you.”
“I would like to do the same. What do you want for Christmas?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know…I pretty much have what I want. I’m getting to spend Christmas with those I care about.”
“All I Want for Christmas is You?”
“What?”
“It’s a song. I heard it on the radio yesterday.”
“Yeah, Cas, I know. Point is, why are you listening to Mariah Carey?” Dean quirked an eyebrow in the angel’s direction.
Castiel looked slightly indignant. “Who sings the song is of no matter. I merely thought that the lyrics coincided with your own Christmas wish.”
Dean grinned. “I’m gonna tell Sam that you want Mariah Carey CDs for Christmas.”
“You will do no such thing, or I will tell your brother that you would like the entire Supernatural book series autographed by Chuck Shurley.”
Dean continued to tease Castiel about his musical preferences for the remainder of the trip. They arrived at Bobby’s house the following day, Christmas Eve.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “How is normal life treating you?”
Sam shrugged, a gesture that was exaggerated by his large shoulder roll. “It could be easier, I guess. Try establishing an identity for the real world, when, according to them, we’re both supposed to be dead. Several times over, in your case.”
“You know, if you want back in, all you have to do is ask.”
“And have to listen to you and Castiel banging the headboard into the wall from a room away? Thanks, but I’ll risk the potential of getting arrested,” Sam shot back with a milder form of his bitchface, earning himself a punch in the arm.
“You idjits want to come inside where it’s warmer?” Bobby, sitting in his wheelchair, called from the doorway. They took their cues and went inside to greet him.
“What’s with this weather, Bobby?” Dean asked once they were inside, “I mean, it’s South Dakota, a white Christmas should be a given.”
“Take it up with the man upstairs, I’ve got nothing to do with it. You wanted Christmas though, and I can give you that.”
It was left to Dean to decide the “Winchesters, Singer, and Angel” Christmas tradition. Bobby had a tree set up in one corner of the living room. Sam had brought it in, and it was currently undecorated. They spent the better part of two hours decorating it. Castiel snuck threaded popcorn pieces off the string and into his mouth, and whenever Dean glanced at him he assumed a countenance of angelic innocence. If angels did have halos, as Dean sometimes joked, his would be glowing. About an hour into the decorating, Bobby brought out the eggnog. Though Castiel was only somewhat affected by alcohol, there were only a few things he actually liked the taste of, all of which Dean had labeled as ‘girly.’ He enjoyed the eggnog, especially the cinnamon and nutmeg sprinkled in it.
After the tree decorating was over, Dean concluded that Christmas Eve was best spent watching movies. Some time later, the four of them were slumped in various seats around the living room as A Charlie Brown Christmas finished. Dean and Castiel had commandeered the couch, and Castiel was leaning slightly against Dean.
“What do you think, Cas? Linus knows what Christmas is all about. Feeling any better about the holiday yet?”
“Provided I get to spend it with you, I don’t believe any negative feelings I have towards Christmas will persist,” Castiel answered stoically, if somewhat lazily. They had continued drinking eggnog throughout the movie, and though the alcohol hadn’t affected him yet, the heaviness of the drink had him feeling lethargic.
“Aww, aren’t they adorable?” It was Bobby.
Dean sent glares in Bobby’s and Sam’s directions, but was feeling too lazy to do anything more than that. They watched A Christmas Story next, which Sam and Dean both had fond memories of from their childhood of motel Christmases. They had seen the movie often enough to quote many of the lines. Castiel shifted closer to Dean, enjoying the closeness that the movie allowed while not being entirely engrossed in the movie itself.
“Dude, I remember the first time after I saw that movie, I couldn’t have been older than six,” Dean said, unconsciously bringing his hand up to run it through Castiel’s hair as he talked, “I asked Dad for a an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle. He told me it wouldn’t do any good against ghosts, and gave me a shotgun instead.”
Castiel hummed contentedly at the feel of Dean’s fingers in his hair. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the movies, but what he liked more was hearing Sam and Dean talking about everyday things, not having to worry about the end of the world or other matters, just acting like brothers. At times, it made Castiel miss the family of Heaven, but then he would remember that he was never as close with any of his heavenly brothers as he was with the three in this room.
“I’m off to bed,” Bobby announced as the movie finished, “You three can stay up if you like, but I need to be up in the morning so I can start making you princesses Christmas dinner. Which you’ll be helping with, by the way. I don’t wanna hear any complaining.”
“G’night, Bobby,” Sam said, waving groggily.
“Sam, you know there’s one more thing we need to watch,” Dean said, and there was a sly edge to his voice.
“No, Dean. I’m vetoing. It isn’t a Christmas movie,” Sam said, adamant.
“It takes place during the Christmas season, that counts!”
“Die Hard does not count.”
In spite of Sam’s arguments, they ended up watching it anyway. Castiel fell asleep at some point, slumping sideways until his head was in Dean’s lap. He was shaken awake by Dean near the end of the movie, however, to hear John McClane say “Yippee kai yay, motherfucker.” Castiel did not derive nearly as much amusement from that as Dean did, though he smiled so that Dean would know he was enjoying himself.
As they trudged upstairs to one of the bedrooms, Dean asked, “So, what are you thinking of Christmas so far?”
“It seems to involve a lot of laziness. Though, I did enjoy A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
“Just wait until tomorrow…There’s going to be food. And, at some point, presents.”
Castiel smiled inwardly as they tugged off clothes and collapsed onto their bed.
*****
Dean woke to the feel of fingertips ghosting along his sides, and lips pressed to his collarbone. He tried to mumble something and shifted slightly, but when he moved he felt the lips leave his collarbone to kiss his mouth thoroughly. It was such a forceful, demanding kiss that it almost made him lose consciousness again, and it definitely made his hips lift from the mattress, seeking friction.
The fingertips at his sides moved to press his hips down, and then there was a solid, warm body dragging itself up his own. Dean’s eyes flew open, and yeah, if he wasn’t getting hard before, he sure was now. He gasped, seeing Castiel’s face barely inches from his own, his lips parted slightly and kiss-swollen. Dean tried lifting his hips again, wanting to rub against Castiel, but the angel lifted his body out of reach, leaning now on his hands and knees above Dean.
“Nnnnngggh, Cas,” Dean mumbled, brain still sleepy even if his downstairs one was ready to go.
“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel said, voice low and rough. It was wrong how a simple ‘good morning’ could sound so dirty, especially coming from an angel’s mouth.
Castiel dipped low to kiss Dean again, and to trail his body teasingly before bringing it back up. “Merry Christmas,” He whispered, and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip.
Fuck. Scratch that, it was wrong how a holiday greeting could sound so fucking dirty coming from an angel’s mouth.
Castiel’s face disappeared from Dean’s field of vision, and the angel was once again kissing Dean’s collarbone, making his way slowly down the planes of Dean’s chest. Dean decided to get anything he wanted to say in now, before Castiel got too much lower on his body and he lost all semblance of coherency.
“Mmmm. So…is this part of my Christmas gift? ‘Cause I gotta say, I could get behind that.”
Castiel had reached one of Dean’s nipples, and he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he focused all his attention on teasing that nipple, while rubbing the other one with his thumb. Dean had almost forgotten the question by the time Castiel lifted up his head and said, “No. My present for you is much more in the Christmas spirit. This…” and he paused to turn his attention back to the nipple, catching it between his teeth as Dean gasped sharply, before lifting his head again, “…is merely my way of waking you up.”
Dean wanted to make some sort of quip about how he could get behind that idea as well, but Castiel was travelling lower down his torso, and he was quickly losing the ability to think lucidly. Best to not risk speaking. Instead, he tangled his hands into Castiel’s dark hair, made even more messy than usual by sleep. He gave a sharp intake of breath as Castiel reached the dips of his hipbones, nipping and sucking and fuck! -his tongue teasing beneath the waistband of the boxer briefs.
“Please, Cas, nnnnngh. Need to feel you. Inside me, around me, I don’t fucking care, just please-…” Dean’s voice stuttered as Castiel dragged the waistband down, pulling the boxer briefs off completely, exposing his erection to the chill air of the room.
Dean was about to complain about the cold, when a moment later he felt a hot, wet mouth encircling his cock. He groaned as loudly as he dared, the knowledge that Sam’s room was just down the hall keeping his volume in check. Castiel hummed, the vibrations making Dean painfully hard, before bobbing his head lower until he had taken all of Dean’s length into his mouth.
Dean bit his lip as he tried not to audibly groan. As it was, he let out a low, keening whine, fisting his hands into Castiel’s hair again as he rolled his hips gently upwards. It was taking every ounce of willpower to resist the urge to thrust up into the angel’s mouth.
“Ca-a-as,” he moaned, drawing the name out into several syllables, “So-fuck! -close…please.”
Castiel released him then, sliding his mouth off just as Dean was getting to the edge. He whimpered slightly at the loss, but then Castiel was stripping off his own boxers, and reaching for the lube in their bag. He poured a liberal amount onto his fingers, slicking them up. Dean let his head fall back on the pillow, spreading his legs open as he waited for Castiel.
“Dean, look at me,” Castiel commanded in that low voice of his.
How was he supposed to refuse when Castiel sounded that fucking sexy? Dean lifted his head up, expecting to see Castiel’s fingers about to enter him, and nearly stopped breathing at the sight before him. Castiel was kneeling, legs spread, and leaning back onto his free hand, while the other…
The other hand was positioned at his own entrance, teasing around the outside of it with slick fingers.
They both groaned when Castiel slid the first finger inside, Dean at the sight of Castiel working himself open, and Castiel at the sensation. He worked the finger deeper, stretching the ring of muscle, before slowly-very slowly-easing in a second finger.
Dean was propped up on his elbows now to watch Castiel, who had his head tilted back, mouth hanging open, as his breath came in shuddering gasps.
“Fuck, Cas. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are right now?”
Castiel didn’t answer, but brought his head forward, locking his eyes with Dean’s. The pupils were blown wide with arousal, and only a thin ring a blue was visible. His eyes were hazy, and his mouth was still parted slightly, lips that had been on Dean’s cock only minutes earlier. His hard length arced up on his stomach, leaking precome. His fingers at his entrance were scissoring and stretching, and he was beginning to work a third finger in with them. He was a picture of debauchery.
Dean was quickly falling apart at the sight. His own cock was aching, and he longed to touch it, to take away some of the pressure, but every time his hand tried to inch towards it he was stopped by Castiel saying, gravelly voice dangerous, “Don’t.”
Castiel removed his fingers from himself, easing them out with only a slight wince of pain. He applied more lube to his hand and slicked Dean’s cock. Dean gasped and relaxed his elbows, letting his upper back and head slump onto the bed. A moment later, and Castiel was straddling him, positioning Dean’s cock at his entrance and-
Fuuuuuck.
Tight heat, enveloping, consuming. Dean groaned raggedly as Castiel relaxed his muscles, lowering himself until he could go no further, until Dean was buried in him. They remained like that for several long, drawn-out seconds as Castiel adjusted, and then he began to move.
It felt glorious. Dean moaned at the feelings overwhelming him as Castiel moved, lifting his hips until just the head of Dean’s cock was inside him, and then sliding back down again. Dean shifted his hands to rest at Castiel’s hips, helping him while rubbing small circles into his hipbones. Castiel panted as he moved, his mussed hair falling onto his face that was developing a sheen of sweat. His expression was rapturous, eyes barely open, tongue peeking out of his mouth.
“Cas…you’re beautiful,” Dean breathed.
Castiel’s eyes came back into focus at that, and he tilted his head down so that he could look more directly at Dean. There was so much bliss held there, in his expression, that further words weren’t needed. Not that Dean thought Castiel capable of forming coherent words at this point. Castiel surprised him again, however, grinding his hips downward as he said, voice broken, “Touch me.”
Dean was more than happy to oblige, taking hold of Castiel’s erection and sliding his hand along it. There wasn’t time to do this slowly, both of them so close to the edge already, so he moved his hand with increased speed, falling into a rhythm that matched with the movement of Castiel’s hips. Castiel gasped and moaned at the new sensations, and also at the angle, causing Dean’s cock to rub against that spot inside of him with every downward thrust. Dean flicked his wrist slightly, knowing the motion drove Castiel crazy.
“C’mon Cas,” he panted, “Come for me.”
That did it. Castiel came with a shuddering cry of Dean’s name, over Dean’s fist and across his stomach. Dean felt muscles contracting around his cock, and he was coming seconds later. Castiel fell forward slightly, arms braced on either side of Dean. He kissed Dean’s lips, languidly, tongue tangling slightly. They remained that way for several minutes, just touching one another softly, and trembling from their hypersensitive nerves. With a small intake of breath, Castiel slid off Dean, and slumped onto the bed next to him.
Dean reached his arm over, fingers entwining themselves gently in Castiel’s hair, massaging his scalp. Castiel hummed his approval, and it was so catlike he would have teased Cas, if he didn’t think the angel would get surly at the comparison.
“That was…” Dean tried to find words, only to be silenced by a finger to his lips.
“I know,” Castiel said, with a soft smile. Dean would almost venture to say the smile was innocent-if Cas hadn’t just, you know, ridden him into the mattress.
Dean waited a couple more minutes before attempting to speak again. “I think we should make that our annual Christmas morning tradition. The general idea, that is…specifics can change each year. Bonus points for creative use of scarves,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Castiel gave Dean an amused expression, then said, “Could I gag you with one?”
Dean couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or turned on. He settled on kissing Castiel, while poking him gently in the ribs. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
Dean would have been happy to continue laying kisses across Castiel’s lips, but the angel drew back, saying, “We should go downstairs. Bobby will need our help with cooking…and we will need to exchange gifts at some point.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but we need to get cleaned up first. Want to join me in the shower? In the interest of conserving hot water, of course.”
Castiel rolled his eyes in Dean’s direction, but got up to follow Dean into the bathroom anyway.
They eventually made it downstairs, and not surprisingly both Bobby and Sam had beaten them to that point, equipped with coffee. Dean ducked his head outside hopefully to see if it had snowed overnight, but then glared upwards at the blue, cloud-free sky before returning inside. Once they were all properly caffeinated (Dean had finally gotten Castiel to develop a taste for coffee, provided he was allowed a flavored creamer to go with it), Bobby set them on various tasks around the kitchen. Sam got to work peeling potatoes, while Dean was given a printed sheet of recipes and told to make his way down the list. Castiel asked Bobby what he should do, and was told to simply help out where he could. Castiel huffed slightly, muttering about how none of them had very much cooking experience, so why was it assumed he couldn’t be useful? Bobby went outside to check the fryer. They had opted to deep-fry the turkey, mainly because none of them were brave enough to roast it.
“Hey Cas, can you make heads or tails of this?” Dean asked, waving the printed recipes.
Castiel took the papers from Dean and looked at them for a minute, reading the directions on how to make green bean casserole, and then said, “Dean, I am not sure what you mean. The instructions here are easy to follow.”
Dean shrugged. “What can I say, I’ve never been good at following instructions. And I’m not really good at cooking either. Anything that comes directly from a can, I’m fine with.”
Castiel passed him a can opener. “Then get to work. I need you to open those cans of green beans and mushroom soup for me. After that, you can open the cans of corn and heat those.”
Castiel reread the instructions, committing them to memory, before laying out everything he would need. As he began combining ingredients, Dean appeared at his side and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Where’d you learn how to cook?”
“As I said, it is not that difficult to follow the directions as they are listed. About how much pepper would you say is in a ‘dash’?”
As Dean helped him measure ingredients, he said, “So…when would you like my Christmas present?”
Castiel glanced up at him, and there was a hint of shyness in his blue eyes. It amazed Dean sometimes that Castiel could still become shy around him, not that he had a problem with that. It was endearing, really.
“Whenever you like,” Castiel said, “Though…I was hoping I could give you mine later…in private.”
Sam, from his station at the sink peeling potatoes, said suddenly, “Oh God, please tell me it’s not anything sex related.”
Castiel was indignant. “Of course it isn’t.”
“Way to butt into other people’s business, Sam,” Dean said, grabbing a dish towel and snapping it at his brother.
“Kinda hard for me not to, what with you two flirting right behind me.”
A scuffle would have broken out if Bobby hadn’t appeared at that moment, asking for Sam’s help in lowering the turkey into the hot oil. Dean stole another quick kiss from Castiel, and then helped him pour the ingredients into a casserole dish, which was set in the oven to begin baking. Sam came back to finish cutting up the potatoes, then put them in a pot of water to boil.
In the end, there were no major kitchen disasters, though the timing was all off. As none of them had ever planned a large meal before, they hadn’t quite figured out how to make things so that they all finished about the same time. As a result, the finished green bean casserole sat under aluminum foil to keep it hot while Sam mashed potatoes, Dean heated the corn, and Castiel figured out how to make gravy from the back of McCormick seasoning packets.
Eventually, everything was finished and on the table, including cranberry sauce (Dean’s can-opening skills had come in handy for that one). It was early afternoon when the four of them finally began eating. For a meal that had been made by three men and one man-shaped angel, it was pretty damn good. Sure, the potatoes were slightly lumpy, and the green bean casserole might have been on the peppery side (“I thought you knew what a dash was”), but it was easily the best meal that they’d ever had.
*****
After they had finished eating and the kitchen had been cleaned, Castiel went up to Dean.
“May we exchange gifts now?”
Dean grinned. “Sure. Come outside with me, I’ve got yours in the Impala. And we’ll have some privacy out there.”
Castiel followed Dean out to the car, where he was given two brown-wrapped parcels, one small, the other bigger. He unwrapped the small gift first. It was a small, ball-shaped bell on a cloth ribbon.
“It’s a jingle bell,” Dean was saying, “You know, because I always joked that you needed a bell, so you couldn’t sneak up on me. You don’t even have to wear it, just once or twice around the holidays…”
Castiel was already looping the ribbon around his wrist. He kissed Dean to silence him, and said, “Thank you, Dean. I like it, and I think it’s funny, too.”
The second parcel, when he unwrapped it, was a long, multi-colored scarf. Long enough that, if folded in half, it would still be longer than his height.
“That one’s more of a joke on Sammy’s part,” Dean explained, “He watches this sci-fi show, right? And there’s a character, The Doctor, with this really odd sort of personality. Sam joked that with your trench coat, you almost looked like one version of the character, all you needed was a huge scarf. And I figured, well, since you didn’t have any winter clothes-…”
Castiel kissed Dean again. It was a useful tactic whenever he started rambling. “Thank you, Dean. I love it.” And he wrapped the scarf several times around his neck and shoulders. It was quite warm.
Castiel pulled a pair of gloves and a wool hat from one of his trench coat pockets. He passed them to Dean. “Here. You will need these in a moment. Put them on.”
Dean did, and then Castiel stepped up into Dean’s personal space until their bodies were almost flush. Dean drew in a quick breath at their closeness.
“Close your eyes, Dean. Do you trust me?”
“Always,” Dean said, eyes closed.
Castiel smiled knowingly, and lifted his hand towards Dean’s face. The bell at his wrist jingled faintly, but Dean kept his eyes shut. Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, transporting them. Dean shivered at the new change in temperature.
“Open your eyes.”
Dean did, and his eyes widened as he took in the snow around them. They were somewhere secluded, nothing but scattered trees and hills. And the snow, of course, about a foot of it dampening the legs of their pants, and more of it falling from the sky. Dean looked back at Castiel, and he was positively beaming. He gazed skywards and turned around, catching snowflakes on his tongue.
“Where are we?” he asked, after several minutes of just reveling in his surroundings.
“Canada. I found a region that was experiencing a white Christmas, that way I could bring you to it,” Castiel said, and he couldn’t help but smile at Dean’s reaction to his surprise.
“Canada? Nice. It’s not too much for you, is it? I mean…you aren’t too tired?”
Castiel shook his head. He was a bit fatigued from the journey, yes, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Even so, Dean’s concern for him meant more than he could say.
“This is fantastic, Cas. Thank you so much.” And Dean hugged him then, a tight embrace that would have knocked the wind out of him, had he been fully human.
And then Dean was off, scooping up snow and flinging it at Castiel. Castiel’s sleeve caught the brunt of the snowball. He dodged the next one, and bent to create a snowball of his own, throwing it at Dean. It missed, but the next one found its mark. They threw snow at each other for the better part of an hour, before Dean called for a cease-fire, citing his cold fingers as a reason.
Castiel stepped again into Dean’s personal space, taking the soaked gloves from his fingers and using his powers to dispel the moisture from them. He took Dean’s hands in his own then, warming them with his palms and breath. Dean’s face was pink from the cold, and his breath clouded in misty swirls between them.
“Hey, c’mere,” Dean said, once he had the dry gloves on his hands again.
Dean took Castiel’s hand and pulled him over to an area with undisturbed snow. Then, releasing the hand, he fell backwards into the snow. His arms and legs were spread-eagled, and he moved them to create his desired shape. He held out his hand then, and Castiel pulled him to his feet.
“Look, Cas,” Dean said, wide grin on his face, “I made a snow angel.”
Castiel raised an amused eyebrow at Dean, and then fell backwards onto his own patch of snow. Instead of spreading his arms and legs out though, he merely let his body make an imprint on the snow. He got up then, and pointed at the mark left by his body.
“Look, Dean, I made a snow human.”
Dean laughed, and threw his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Cas, let me show you how a proper snowman is made.”
The light was fading when they finished their snowman. Castiel draped his scarf around the snowman’s shoulders, and then Dean used his cell phone to snap a picture of it. As Castiel reclaimed his ridiculously long scarf, Dean grabbed one end of it, using it to pull Castiel to him. They fell into the snow together, and he gave Castiel a long, drawn-out kiss, their cold noses brushing against one another.
“Thank you for everything, Cas,” Dean said, when they had broken apart, “This…this has been really great. It’s the best Christmas I could have hoped for, better, even.”
“I’m glad. Merry Christmas, Dean.”
Cas found that he didn’t want to let Dean go from his arms. He was comfortable here, they both were. Eventually, however, the cold won out, and Dean got up first, brushing the snow from his clothes. He pulled Castiel up next, and then ruffled his hair to dislodge the snowflakes from it.
“What do you say we head back to Bobby’s?” Dean suggested, “We can make hot cocoa and wrap ourselves in a huge blanket by the fireplace…maybe take a hot bath together later.” The last remark was accompanied by a slight quirking of the eyebrow, and Castiel had grown so used to it he didn’t even bother pretending to be offended.
“I think that sounds like a good plan,” Castiel said, and there was a jingling sound as he raised his fingers to Dean’s forehead.
Fin.
Title: That’s What Christmas is All About, Castiel
Recipient: thevinegarworks
Author: ember_firedrake
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,850
Warnings: The usual NC-17 stuff. Slight sleep!kink.
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Apocalypse is two years past, and Dean just wants to have a normal Christmas with Castiel. The problem is, he’s never had a “normal” Christmas in his life. And Castiel is having a hard time making sense of some Christmas traditions.
Author notes: Title shamelessly taken from A Charlie Brown Christmas. I tried to incorporate aspects from all three of my giftee’s prompts, particularly this: “Dean is bound and determined he's going to do this Christmas right, goddammit. Allusions to the past and all of Sam&Dean's fucked up Christmases before would be greatly appreciated, but please no vicious hate on Papa John.”
This: “Anything centered around Dean, Sam, and Cas (and preferably Bobby if you can work him in too!) trying to have a "normal" Christmas dinner. Some sort of lulzy interruptions, whether because Cas is confused about what they're supposed to be doing or because the boys can't cook a decent meal to save their lives”
And this: “Cas giving Dean a very unique gift special to just them. Preferably would involve Cas thinking Christmas tradition is silly and false, but indulging anyway because he sees how happy it makes Dean.”
In the two years since the Apocalypse was averted, Dean’s gotten pretty good at reading Castiel. It’s a direct consequence of all their time spent together back when icing the Devil was priority number one, when discussions of personal space were a regular occurrence (though why those discussions were so important to him at the time, Dean can’t figure, as they seemed detrimental to both of their desires at the time).
When Lucifer had finally been defeated, Castiel had been forgiven by the Host, and welcomed back to Heaven. Castiel had politely declined, citing his desire to remain with Dean, and help rebuild Earth. Surprisingly, Heaven had allowed it, and Castiel had even been able to retain most of his angelic abilities, though diminished. In order to “bend the rules”, Castiel’s brothers had had to come up with some sort of job title for him, something along the lines of “Angel Ambassador and Reconnaissance.” At least, that’s what Dean liked to think Cas’ title was.
Point being, Castiel had remained pretty much by Dean’s side ever since, and in that time they’d both become good at reading one another. Which is why it was so refreshing to see Castiel with his confused head tilt; it hadn’t made an appearance in a while.
“I’m not sure I understand, Dean.”
“What’s not to understand? It’s Christmas, and it’s only a week away! Come on, you’re an angel, you’re supposed to like the holiday. I mean, half of the Christmas trees are decorated with you guys on top!” Dean realized, after it had been said, that the last comment was perhaps not the best thing to say.
Sure enough, Cas pursed his lips in a classic I’m-humoring-you-because-I-love-you expression.
“What’s the point? For a holiday that claims to celebrate the birth of Jesus, it does that very little. It’s been commercialized to the point where it is unrecognizable. Furthermore, Jesus was born in late summer, the December 25th date comes from Christianity’s early attempts to subsume pagan winter festivals and the Roman holiday Dies Natalis Solis Invicti-”
“Yeah, Cas, I get it. Sam gave me that whole schpiel years ago. And there weren’t any bunnies as Jesus’ crucifixion either. That’s not the point.” Dean rolled his eyes, but it was mostly in a good-natured way.
“Then what is the point?” Castiel asked, shifting closer to Dean as he talked, something that always happened for any conversation of theirs, given enough time. It was like they had subconscious homing beacons programmed on each other.
“When’d you become such a Grinch?” Dean asked, flicking Cas’ nose and then hooking his arm around the angel’s neck until their faces were inches apart. “The point is to spend time with the people you love. You’re supposed to eat too much, exchange gifts, watch movies, play in the snow, and drink eggnog. All that and more. It’s about the fact that we stopped the end of the world and lived to talk about it, but since that point I haven’t had a proper Christmas with my family. You, me, Bobby, and Sam.”
Castiel gave Dean one of the rare smiles he let out whenever Dean included the angel as part of his “family”. It was a grateful, happy smile, still a little shy even though Dean had made it perfectly clear to Cas how deeply he cared about him.
“If it means that much to you, Dean, then of course I would love to take part.”
Dean grinned. “Good. Time for Christmas Tradition Lesson number one.”
Dean tilted his head upwards toward the motel ceiling fan, where a sprig of mistletoe was attached to the pull chain. Castiel followed his gaze.
“Whenever you’re under the mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them.”
“Actually, the significance of mistletoe dates back to Norse mythology, when Loki-”
“Cas?” Dean interrupted.
“Yes, Dean?”
“Kiss me.”
Castiel arched an eyebrow at Dean, and Dean leaned forward with his eyes closed, lips inviting. A moment later, he felt hands on either side of his face, which pulled him into a demanding and hungry kiss. Dean stifled a moan, then returned the kiss, allowing Cas’ tongue to map the inside of his mouth.
When they broke apart, several minutes later, Dean took a moment to enjoy the sight of Castiel’s lips, reddened from kissing. “I think you’ve got the idea. Just…don’t do that if it’s Sam or Bobby.”
*****
A lot had changed for Castiel in two years. He was still an angel, something that he was thankful for, though he gladly would have given it up for Dean. Jimmy’s soul was long since departed, but his body had become as familiar to Castiel as his own true form. In some ways more so, as he never felt so deeply as he did when in human form.
Some things for Castiel were the same. He could still travel as he once did, from place to place in the blink of an eye, though longer distances tended to make him feel tired. He got the sense that Dean preferred it when he took the passenger seat of the Impala, anyway. He could still heal himself and others to an extent, but more serious wounds took time to mend. Other abilities such as time travel and demon killing were no longer available to him. It had taken some getting used to, but he had gotten over his initial fear of being powerless.
The biggest change for Castiel was the way he perceived time. For angels, time is nothing. It is fluid, as he once told Dean, a lifetime ago. In Heaven, time moves both fast and slow, unlike Hell where it only moves slowly. When Castiel was recalled to Heaven to be “reeducated”, back when Jimmy was left with the Winchesters, his time there seemed drawn out into weeks. But to Heaven, the passing of a few years on Earth means nothing.
It was everything to Castiel. Two years, during which time he had felt in more ways than he could possibly imagine. He had felt the passing of those years as any human would. In many ways, Castiel knew that this new perception of his began the moment he pulled Dean from Hell. His life as he knew it began four years ago.
Castiel agreed to Christmas because it was Dean, really. And where Dean was concerned he could not truly refuse, not when it was something that mattered so much to Dean, in spite of Castiel’s own opinions of the holiday.
“Dean?” Castiel asked. They were in the Impala, on the way to Bobby’s house.
“Yeah, Cas?”
“Gift giving is expected during the modern Christmas tradition, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, sure it is, but you don’t have to get me anything. We aren’t going to really have a formal gift-giving, since it’s on such short notice. Not to mention, we’re all guys. We never know what to get each other.”
“Are you getting something for me?” Castiel asked, voice curious.
Dean glanced sideways at Castiel, giving him a smile before saying, “Yeah, I am. But that’s because I wanted to get something for you.”
“I would like to do the same. What do you want for Christmas?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know…I pretty much have what I want. I’m getting to spend Christmas with those I care about.”
“All I Want for Christmas is You?”
“What?”
“It’s a song. I heard it on the radio yesterday.”
“Yeah, Cas, I know. Point is, why are you listening to Mariah Carey?” Dean quirked an eyebrow in the angel’s direction.
Castiel looked slightly indignant. “Who sings the song is of no matter. I merely thought that the lyrics coincided with your own Christmas wish.”
Dean grinned. “I’m gonna tell Sam that you want Mariah Carey CDs for Christmas.”
“You will do no such thing, or I will tell your brother that you would like the entire Supernatural book series autographed by Chuck Shurley.”
Dean continued to tease Castiel about his musical preferences for the remainder of the trip. They arrived at Bobby’s house the following day, Christmas Eve.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “How is normal life treating you?”
Sam shrugged, a gesture that was exaggerated by his large shoulder roll. “It could be easier, I guess. Try establishing an identity for the real world, when, according to them, we’re both supposed to be dead. Several times over, in your case.”
“You know, if you want back in, all you have to do is ask.”
“And have to listen to you and Castiel banging the headboard into the wall from a room away? Thanks, but I’ll risk the potential of getting arrested,” Sam shot back with a milder form of his bitchface, earning himself a punch in the arm.
“You idjits want to come inside where it’s warmer?” Bobby, sitting in his wheelchair, called from the doorway. They took their cues and went inside to greet him.
“What’s with this weather, Bobby?” Dean asked once they were inside, “I mean, it’s South Dakota, a white Christmas should be a given.”
“Take it up with the man upstairs, I’ve got nothing to do with it. You wanted Christmas though, and I can give you that.”
It was left to Dean to decide the “Winchesters, Singer, and Angel” Christmas tradition. Bobby had a tree set up in one corner of the living room. Sam had brought it in, and it was currently undecorated. They spent the better part of two hours decorating it. Castiel snuck threaded popcorn pieces off the string and into his mouth, and whenever Dean glanced at him he assumed a countenance of angelic innocence. If angels did have halos, as Dean sometimes joked, his would be glowing. About an hour into the decorating, Bobby brought out the eggnog. Though Castiel was only somewhat affected by alcohol, there were only a few things he actually liked the taste of, all of which Dean had labeled as ‘girly.’ He enjoyed the eggnog, especially the cinnamon and nutmeg sprinkled in it.
After the tree decorating was over, Dean concluded that Christmas Eve was best spent watching movies. Some time later, the four of them were slumped in various seats around the living room as A Charlie Brown Christmas finished. Dean and Castiel had commandeered the couch, and Castiel was leaning slightly against Dean.
“What do you think, Cas? Linus knows what Christmas is all about. Feeling any better about the holiday yet?”
“Provided I get to spend it with you, I don’t believe any negative feelings I have towards Christmas will persist,” Castiel answered stoically, if somewhat lazily. They had continued drinking eggnog throughout the movie, and though the alcohol hadn’t affected him yet, the heaviness of the drink had him feeling lethargic.
“Aww, aren’t they adorable?” It was Bobby.
Dean sent glares in Bobby’s and Sam’s directions, but was feeling too lazy to do anything more than that. They watched A Christmas Story next, which Sam and Dean both had fond memories of from their childhood of motel Christmases. They had seen the movie often enough to quote many of the lines. Castiel shifted closer to Dean, enjoying the closeness that the movie allowed while not being entirely engrossed in the movie itself.
“Dude, I remember the first time after I saw that movie, I couldn’t have been older than six,” Dean said, unconsciously bringing his hand up to run it through Castiel’s hair as he talked, “I asked Dad for a an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle. He told me it wouldn’t do any good against ghosts, and gave me a shotgun instead.”
Castiel hummed contentedly at the feel of Dean’s fingers in his hair. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the movies, but what he liked more was hearing Sam and Dean talking about everyday things, not having to worry about the end of the world or other matters, just acting like brothers. At times, it made Castiel miss the family of Heaven, but then he would remember that he was never as close with any of his heavenly brothers as he was with the three in this room.
“I’m off to bed,” Bobby announced as the movie finished, “You three can stay up if you like, but I need to be up in the morning so I can start making you princesses Christmas dinner. Which you’ll be helping with, by the way. I don’t wanna hear any complaining.”
“G’night, Bobby,” Sam said, waving groggily.
“Sam, you know there’s one more thing we need to watch,” Dean said, and there was a sly edge to his voice.
“No, Dean. I’m vetoing. It isn’t a Christmas movie,” Sam said, adamant.
“It takes place during the Christmas season, that counts!”
“Die Hard does not count.”
In spite of Sam’s arguments, they ended up watching it anyway. Castiel fell asleep at some point, slumping sideways until his head was in Dean’s lap. He was shaken awake by Dean near the end of the movie, however, to hear John McClane say “Yippee kai yay, motherfucker.” Castiel did not derive nearly as much amusement from that as Dean did, though he smiled so that Dean would know he was enjoying himself.
As they trudged upstairs to one of the bedrooms, Dean asked, “So, what are you thinking of Christmas so far?”
“It seems to involve a lot of laziness. Though, I did enjoy A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
“Just wait until tomorrow…There’s going to be food. And, at some point, presents.”
Castiel smiled inwardly as they tugged off clothes and collapsed onto their bed.
*****
Dean woke to the feel of fingertips ghosting along his sides, and lips pressed to his collarbone. He tried to mumble something and shifted slightly, but when he moved he felt the lips leave his collarbone to kiss his mouth thoroughly. It was such a forceful, demanding kiss that it almost made him lose consciousness again, and it definitely made his hips lift from the mattress, seeking friction.
The fingertips at his sides moved to press his hips down, and then there was a solid, warm body dragging itself up his own. Dean’s eyes flew open, and yeah, if he wasn’t getting hard before, he sure was now. He gasped, seeing Castiel’s face barely inches from his own, his lips parted slightly and kiss-swollen. Dean tried lifting his hips again, wanting to rub against Castiel, but the angel lifted his body out of reach, leaning now on his hands and knees above Dean.
“Nnnnngggh, Cas,” Dean mumbled, brain still sleepy even if his downstairs one was ready to go.
“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel said, voice low and rough. It was wrong how a simple ‘good morning’ could sound so dirty, especially coming from an angel’s mouth.
Castiel dipped low to kiss Dean again, and to trail his body teasingly before bringing it back up. “Merry Christmas,” He whispered, and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip.
Fuck. Scratch that, it was wrong how a holiday greeting could sound so fucking dirty coming from an angel’s mouth.
Castiel’s face disappeared from Dean’s field of vision, and the angel was once again kissing Dean’s collarbone, making his way slowly down the planes of Dean’s chest. Dean decided to get anything he wanted to say in now, before Castiel got too much lower on his body and he lost all semblance of coherency.
“Mmmm. So…is this part of my Christmas gift? ‘Cause I gotta say, I could get behind that.”
Castiel had reached one of Dean’s nipples, and he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he focused all his attention on teasing that nipple, while rubbing the other one with his thumb. Dean had almost forgotten the question by the time Castiel lifted up his head and said, “No. My present for you is much more in the Christmas spirit. This…” and he paused to turn his attention back to the nipple, catching it between his teeth as Dean gasped sharply, before lifting his head again, “…is merely my way of waking you up.”
Dean wanted to make some sort of quip about how he could get behind that idea as well, but Castiel was travelling lower down his torso, and he was quickly losing the ability to think lucidly. Best to not risk speaking. Instead, he tangled his hands into Castiel’s dark hair, made even more messy than usual by sleep. He gave a sharp intake of breath as Castiel reached the dips of his hipbones, nipping and sucking and fuck! -his tongue teasing beneath the waistband of the boxer briefs.
“Please, Cas, nnnnngh. Need to feel you. Inside me, around me, I don’t fucking care, just please-…” Dean’s voice stuttered as Castiel dragged the waistband down, pulling the boxer briefs off completely, exposing his erection to the chill air of the room.
Dean was about to complain about the cold, when a moment later he felt a hot, wet mouth encircling his cock. He groaned as loudly as he dared, the knowledge that Sam’s room was just down the hall keeping his volume in check. Castiel hummed, the vibrations making Dean painfully hard, before bobbing his head lower until he had taken all of Dean’s length into his mouth.
Dean bit his lip as he tried not to audibly groan. As it was, he let out a low, keening whine, fisting his hands into Castiel’s hair again as he rolled his hips gently upwards. It was taking every ounce of willpower to resist the urge to thrust up into the angel’s mouth.
“Ca-a-as,” he moaned, drawing the name out into several syllables, “So-fuck! -close…please.”
Castiel released him then, sliding his mouth off just as Dean was getting to the edge. He whimpered slightly at the loss, but then Castiel was stripping off his own boxers, and reaching for the lube in their bag. He poured a liberal amount onto his fingers, slicking them up. Dean let his head fall back on the pillow, spreading his legs open as he waited for Castiel.
“Dean, look at me,” Castiel commanded in that low voice of his.
How was he supposed to refuse when Castiel sounded that fucking sexy? Dean lifted his head up, expecting to see Castiel’s fingers about to enter him, and nearly stopped breathing at the sight before him. Castiel was kneeling, legs spread, and leaning back onto his free hand, while the other…
The other hand was positioned at his own entrance, teasing around the outside of it with slick fingers.
They both groaned when Castiel slid the first finger inside, Dean at the sight of Castiel working himself open, and Castiel at the sensation. He worked the finger deeper, stretching the ring of muscle, before slowly-very slowly-easing in a second finger.
Dean was propped up on his elbows now to watch Castiel, who had his head tilted back, mouth hanging open, as his breath came in shuddering gasps.
“Fuck, Cas. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are right now?”
Castiel didn’t answer, but brought his head forward, locking his eyes with Dean’s. The pupils were blown wide with arousal, and only a thin ring a blue was visible. His eyes were hazy, and his mouth was still parted slightly, lips that had been on Dean’s cock only minutes earlier. His hard length arced up on his stomach, leaking precome. His fingers at his entrance were scissoring and stretching, and he was beginning to work a third finger in with them. He was a picture of debauchery.
Dean was quickly falling apart at the sight. His own cock was aching, and he longed to touch it, to take away some of the pressure, but every time his hand tried to inch towards it he was stopped by Castiel saying, gravelly voice dangerous, “Don’t.”
Castiel removed his fingers from himself, easing them out with only a slight wince of pain. He applied more lube to his hand and slicked Dean’s cock. Dean gasped and relaxed his elbows, letting his upper back and head slump onto the bed. A moment later, and Castiel was straddling him, positioning Dean’s cock at his entrance and-
Fuuuuuck.
Tight heat, enveloping, consuming. Dean groaned raggedly as Castiel relaxed his muscles, lowering himself until he could go no further, until Dean was buried in him. They remained like that for several long, drawn-out seconds as Castiel adjusted, and then he began to move.
It felt glorious. Dean moaned at the feelings overwhelming him as Castiel moved, lifting his hips until just the head of Dean’s cock was inside him, and then sliding back down again. Dean shifted his hands to rest at Castiel’s hips, helping him while rubbing small circles into his hipbones. Castiel panted as he moved, his mussed hair falling onto his face that was developing a sheen of sweat. His expression was rapturous, eyes barely open, tongue peeking out of his mouth.
“Cas…you’re beautiful,” Dean breathed.
Castiel’s eyes came back into focus at that, and he tilted his head down so that he could look more directly at Dean. There was so much bliss held there, in his expression, that further words weren’t needed. Not that Dean thought Castiel capable of forming coherent words at this point. Castiel surprised him again, however, grinding his hips downward as he said, voice broken, “Touch me.”
Dean was more than happy to oblige, taking hold of Castiel’s erection and sliding his hand along it. There wasn’t time to do this slowly, both of them so close to the edge already, so he moved his hand with increased speed, falling into a rhythm that matched with the movement of Castiel’s hips. Castiel gasped and moaned at the new sensations, and also at the angle, causing Dean’s cock to rub against that spot inside of him with every downward thrust. Dean flicked his wrist slightly, knowing the motion drove Castiel crazy.
“C’mon Cas,” he panted, “Come for me.”
That did it. Castiel came with a shuddering cry of Dean’s name, over Dean’s fist and across his stomach. Dean felt muscles contracting around his cock, and he was coming seconds later. Castiel fell forward slightly, arms braced on either side of Dean. He kissed Dean’s lips, languidly, tongue tangling slightly. They remained that way for several minutes, just touching one another softly, and trembling from their hypersensitive nerves. With a small intake of breath, Castiel slid off Dean, and slumped onto the bed next to him.
Dean reached his arm over, fingers entwining themselves gently in Castiel’s hair, massaging his scalp. Castiel hummed his approval, and it was so catlike he would have teased Cas, if he didn’t think the angel would get surly at the comparison.
“That was…” Dean tried to find words, only to be silenced by a finger to his lips.
“I know,” Castiel said, with a soft smile. Dean would almost venture to say the smile was innocent-if Cas hadn’t just, you know, ridden him into the mattress.
Dean waited a couple more minutes before attempting to speak again. “I think we should make that our annual Christmas morning tradition. The general idea, that is…specifics can change each year. Bonus points for creative use of scarves,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Castiel gave Dean an amused expression, then said, “Could I gag you with one?”
Dean couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or turned on. He settled on kissing Castiel, while poking him gently in the ribs. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
Dean would have been happy to continue laying kisses across Castiel’s lips, but the angel drew back, saying, “We should go downstairs. Bobby will need our help with cooking…and we will need to exchange gifts at some point.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but we need to get cleaned up first. Want to join me in the shower? In the interest of conserving hot water, of course.”
Castiel rolled his eyes in Dean’s direction, but got up to follow Dean into the bathroom anyway.
They eventually made it downstairs, and not surprisingly both Bobby and Sam had beaten them to that point, equipped with coffee. Dean ducked his head outside hopefully to see if it had snowed overnight, but then glared upwards at the blue, cloud-free sky before returning inside. Once they were all properly caffeinated (Dean had finally gotten Castiel to develop a taste for coffee, provided he was allowed a flavored creamer to go with it), Bobby set them on various tasks around the kitchen. Sam got to work peeling potatoes, while Dean was given a printed sheet of recipes and told to make his way down the list. Castiel asked Bobby what he should do, and was told to simply help out where he could. Castiel huffed slightly, muttering about how none of them had very much cooking experience, so why was it assumed he couldn’t be useful? Bobby went outside to check the fryer. They had opted to deep-fry the turkey, mainly because none of them were brave enough to roast it.
“Hey Cas, can you make heads or tails of this?” Dean asked, waving the printed recipes.
Castiel took the papers from Dean and looked at them for a minute, reading the directions on how to make green bean casserole, and then said, “Dean, I am not sure what you mean. The instructions here are easy to follow.”
Dean shrugged. “What can I say, I’ve never been good at following instructions. And I’m not really good at cooking either. Anything that comes directly from a can, I’m fine with.”
Castiel passed him a can opener. “Then get to work. I need you to open those cans of green beans and mushroom soup for me. After that, you can open the cans of corn and heat those.”
Castiel reread the instructions, committing them to memory, before laying out everything he would need. As he began combining ingredients, Dean appeared at his side and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Where’d you learn how to cook?”
“As I said, it is not that difficult to follow the directions as they are listed. About how much pepper would you say is in a ‘dash’?”
As Dean helped him measure ingredients, he said, “So…when would you like my Christmas present?”
Castiel glanced up at him, and there was a hint of shyness in his blue eyes. It amazed Dean sometimes that Castiel could still become shy around him, not that he had a problem with that. It was endearing, really.
“Whenever you like,” Castiel said, “Though…I was hoping I could give you mine later…in private.”
Sam, from his station at the sink peeling potatoes, said suddenly, “Oh God, please tell me it’s not anything sex related.”
Castiel was indignant. “Of course it isn’t.”
“Way to butt into other people’s business, Sam,” Dean said, grabbing a dish towel and snapping it at his brother.
“Kinda hard for me not to, what with you two flirting right behind me.”
A scuffle would have broken out if Bobby hadn’t appeared at that moment, asking for Sam’s help in lowering the turkey into the hot oil. Dean stole another quick kiss from Castiel, and then helped him pour the ingredients into a casserole dish, which was set in the oven to begin baking. Sam came back to finish cutting up the potatoes, then put them in a pot of water to boil.
In the end, there were no major kitchen disasters, though the timing was all off. As none of them had ever planned a large meal before, they hadn’t quite figured out how to make things so that they all finished about the same time. As a result, the finished green bean casserole sat under aluminum foil to keep it hot while Sam mashed potatoes, Dean heated the corn, and Castiel figured out how to make gravy from the back of McCormick seasoning packets.
Eventually, everything was finished and on the table, including cranberry sauce (Dean’s can-opening skills had come in handy for that one). It was early afternoon when the four of them finally began eating. For a meal that had been made by three men and one man-shaped angel, it was pretty damn good. Sure, the potatoes were slightly lumpy, and the green bean casserole might have been on the peppery side (“I thought you knew what a dash was”), but it was easily the best meal that they’d ever had.
*****
After they had finished eating and the kitchen had been cleaned, Castiel went up to Dean.
“May we exchange gifts now?”
Dean grinned. “Sure. Come outside with me, I’ve got yours in the Impala. And we’ll have some privacy out there.”
Castiel followed Dean out to the car, where he was given two brown-wrapped parcels, one small, the other bigger. He unwrapped the small gift first. It was a small, ball-shaped bell on a cloth ribbon.
“It’s a jingle bell,” Dean was saying, “You know, because I always joked that you needed a bell, so you couldn’t sneak up on me. You don’t even have to wear it, just once or twice around the holidays…”
Castiel was already looping the ribbon around his wrist. He kissed Dean to silence him, and said, “Thank you, Dean. I like it, and I think it’s funny, too.”
The second parcel, when he unwrapped it, was a long, multi-colored scarf. Long enough that, if folded in half, it would still be longer than his height.
“That one’s more of a joke on Sammy’s part,” Dean explained, “He watches this sci-fi show, right? And there’s a character, The Doctor, with this really odd sort of personality. Sam joked that with your trench coat, you almost looked like one version of the character, all you needed was a huge scarf. And I figured, well, since you didn’t have any winter clothes-…”
Castiel kissed Dean again. It was a useful tactic whenever he started rambling. “Thank you, Dean. I love it.” And he wrapped the scarf several times around his neck and shoulders. It was quite warm.
Castiel pulled a pair of gloves and a wool hat from one of his trench coat pockets. He passed them to Dean. “Here. You will need these in a moment. Put them on.”
Dean did, and then Castiel stepped up into Dean’s personal space until their bodies were almost flush. Dean drew in a quick breath at their closeness.
“Close your eyes, Dean. Do you trust me?”
“Always,” Dean said, eyes closed.
Castiel smiled knowingly, and lifted his hand towards Dean’s face. The bell at his wrist jingled faintly, but Dean kept his eyes shut. Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, transporting them. Dean shivered at the new change in temperature.
“Open your eyes.”
Dean did, and his eyes widened as he took in the snow around them. They were somewhere secluded, nothing but scattered trees and hills. And the snow, of course, about a foot of it dampening the legs of their pants, and more of it falling from the sky. Dean looked back at Castiel, and he was positively beaming. He gazed skywards and turned around, catching snowflakes on his tongue.
“Where are we?” he asked, after several minutes of just reveling in his surroundings.
“Canada. I found a region that was experiencing a white Christmas, that way I could bring you to it,” Castiel said, and he couldn’t help but smile at Dean’s reaction to his surprise.
“Canada? Nice. It’s not too much for you, is it? I mean…you aren’t too tired?”
Castiel shook his head. He was a bit fatigued from the journey, yes, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Even so, Dean’s concern for him meant more than he could say.
“This is fantastic, Cas. Thank you so much.” And Dean hugged him then, a tight embrace that would have knocked the wind out of him, had he been fully human.
And then Dean was off, scooping up snow and flinging it at Castiel. Castiel’s sleeve caught the brunt of the snowball. He dodged the next one, and bent to create a snowball of his own, throwing it at Dean. It missed, but the next one found its mark. They threw snow at each other for the better part of an hour, before Dean called for a cease-fire, citing his cold fingers as a reason.
Castiel stepped again into Dean’s personal space, taking the soaked gloves from his fingers and using his powers to dispel the moisture from them. He took Dean’s hands in his own then, warming them with his palms and breath. Dean’s face was pink from the cold, and his breath clouded in misty swirls between them.
“Hey, c’mere,” Dean said, once he had the dry gloves on his hands again.
Dean took Castiel’s hand and pulled him over to an area with undisturbed snow. Then, releasing the hand, he fell backwards into the snow. His arms and legs were spread-eagled, and he moved them to create his desired shape. He held out his hand then, and Castiel pulled him to his feet.
“Look, Cas,” Dean said, wide grin on his face, “I made a snow angel.”
Castiel raised an amused eyebrow at Dean, and then fell backwards onto his own patch of snow. Instead of spreading his arms and legs out though, he merely let his body make an imprint on the snow. He got up then, and pointed at the mark left by his body.
“Look, Dean, I made a snow human.”
Dean laughed, and threw his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Cas, let me show you how a proper snowman is made.”
The light was fading when they finished their snowman. Castiel draped his scarf around the snowman’s shoulders, and then Dean used his cell phone to snap a picture of it. As Castiel reclaimed his ridiculously long scarf, Dean grabbed one end of it, using it to pull Castiel to him. They fell into the snow together, and he gave Castiel a long, drawn-out kiss, their cold noses brushing against one another.
“Thank you for everything, Cas,” Dean said, when they had broken apart, “This…this has been really great. It’s the best Christmas I could have hoped for, better, even.”
“I’m glad. Merry Christmas, Dean.”
Cas found that he didn’t want to let Dean go from his arms. He was comfortable here, they both were. Eventually, however, the cold won out, and Dean got up first, brushing the snow from his clothes. He pulled Castiel up next, and then ruffled his hair to dislodge the snowflakes from it.
“What do you say we head back to Bobby’s?” Dean suggested, “We can make hot cocoa and wrap ourselves in a huge blanket by the fireplace…maybe take a hot bath together later.” The last remark was accompanied by a slight quirking of the eyebrow, and Castiel had grown so used to it he didn’t even bother pretending to be offended.
“I think that sounds like a good plan,” Castiel said, and there was a jingling sound as he raised his fingers to Dean’s forehead.
Fin.