Pinecones, Pears and Mistletoe - Part 2 (Part of the WOTR 'verse)
Title: Pinecones, Pears and Mistletoe - Part 2 ( WOTR ‘verse)
Author: skylinehorizon
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Length: 11k
Warnings: swearing, hearing loss/deafness, sex.
Summary: Sam, Dean and Cas spend their first Christmas together in their new home. Set a few months after War Of The Regions ends.
Notes: Timestamp in the War Of The Regions ‘verse. This isn’t the Jo and Gabriel sequel I know some people are hoping for, but this is something to hopefully tide you over a little bit longer. It’s set around Christmas, so sorry it’s late, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!
PDF - Text Only (I often have formatting problems copying over from Pages to here, so that might be the best bet! If anything seems strange below, then please say and I will adjust it.)
Pinecones, Pears and Mistletoe (part of the War Of The Regions ‘verse)
by skylinehorizon
Part 1 | 'verse masterpost
***
~ 23rd December ~
The snow begins to gently fall again the just after lunch the next day. As they walk towards the center of the village, Sam holding a small lantern, the sound of voices floats through the air, and more lanterns are littered around the square to cast a faint orange glow in the dull afternoon light.
There are a group of boys and girls, younger than Sammy, standing in a formation of two lines, and they’re singing. Sam, Dean and Cas stop within the crowd of people who are watching and Sam taps Dean on the arm and raises his eyebrows.
Christmas songs, Dean signs, and Sam nods, gives a little smile, and looks back to them. It’s calm and it’s soft, and Dean’s chest constricts knowing that even with his new hearing aids Sam wouldn’t be able to hear their voices, which are high and sweet in the innocent way children’s voices are. It’s almost disturbing to know that these children were uprooted from their burning homes only a few months ago, and are lucky to be alive.
Cas’ hand finds his and they lace their numb fingers together. He watches Sam, at the gentle smile on his face, and he swallows hard because he can’t be enjoying this, he can’t be watching and knowing that he’s missing out on the entire point of it all. He looks back over at Cas and Cas smiles at him.
“We should do something for Sam,” Dean says quietly. “I don’t know what - just. This must suck for him, you know?”
Cas glances over at Sam, back to the carol singers, and then grips Dean’s hand tight. “I have an idea.”
Cas taps Sam’s shoulder and he turns around. Come on, Cas signs. We’re going somewhere.
Sam frowns, but starts to follow as Cas leads them away from the singing children and towards the edge of the forest. They walk at a steady pace, with Cas in the front and Dean at the back, and he finds himself paying attention to their surroundings in the same way he’s used to doing from the months spent in the forests during the summer. He knows most of these forests by now, the place where the berries are best, the lakes and the streams, but Cas is taking them on a route he doesn’t usually go.
Sam continues to carry the lamp and throws curious glances back to Dean, but Dean just shrugs, happy to follow Cas and see where they end up.
“Cas,” Sam calls from behind, and Cas spins and slows down in his walking to offer Sam his attention.
Sam makes the sign for where?, and Cas knows enough now that Dean doesn’t need to translate.
Surprise, Cas replies.
They carry on walking up a sharp hill and Dean keeps a closer watch, making sure neither Sam or Cas slip against the slippery surface. The exercise is at least keeping them warm, but Dean feels the anxiety settle in his stomach at the idea of Sam getting ill again.
Sam pesters Cas again, a little while later, and Cas just replies with, Someplace beautiful.
It’s not long after that that Cas slows down as they reach the top and he looks back to them with a smile. They’re under the canopy of trees, and Cas points ahead of them, where the trees break apart.
They step through the branches and Dean feels his jaw drop at the sight in front of them. Cas has obviously had a chance to explore in the last few weeks while Dean and Sam have been in the Highlands.
Snow blows in wide circles across the tundra of white, and it looks as if there is no end, the horizon obscured by a blizzard of snow. Sam places the lantern at his feet and walks closer to the edge, his scarf whipping against his flush cheeks.
It feels like they’ve been here and done this before. Months ago on a rocky ridge, overlooking the Regions. It had been raining, a fierce lightning storm, and Dean had led Sam up to the top to watch the fantastic display, and feel the rumble of thunder in the ground.
Here, the only sound is the whistling of the wind, and other than that it is silent. This place doesn’t need sound, or words, and they huddle together a few meters from the edge and look over the village, its small orange glow looking tiny and insignificant next to the winter storm. To the north-east the Highlands lie, a large clump of city lights, but the snow is still obscuring it, and it makes it look almost peaceful and untouched. Trees all along the west are covered in a thick blanket of snow, and icicles hang from the branches of the trees where they stand.
Dean breaks one off and hands it to Sam, who takes it with wide eyes and a grin, and it melts in his hand.
Thank you, Sam signs, grinning at them.
Dean can’t help himself, and leans forward to ruffle Sam’s hair in just the way he knows Sam doesn’t like, and his face scrunches up as Dean brushes the snow away and it lands on his face.
Cas lets out a small laugh from beside him and Sam retaliates by leaning forward and ruffling up Dean’s hair. It’s not as long as Sam’s, and not as effective, and Dean smirks at him, satisfied.
They don’t stay long up there, mindful of the dying daylight, bitter cold and journey back home. Cas leads the way back but even though Dean is chilled to the bone and still worrying about Sam getting ill, he feels happy. He feels grateful and lucky to have found someone who cares about Sam’s happiness as much as he does, and Dean watches as Cas walks with a strong feeling of adoration within him, looking forward to curling up with him in bed and kissing every inch of his skin.
When they get through the door a little while later they’re freezing cold, and a small flurry of snow enters with them. Dean gets the fire started as soon as he’s across the room and Cas starts to fill a pot with water to boil. At first no water comes out the taps, and there’s just a creak, before it trickles slowly and then comes out, as cold as the snow outside, if not colder.
“I think the pipes may freeze soon,” Cas says. It’s something Sam and Dean have had to contend with every winter, and not for the first time since coming here, Dean wonders how well the people of the Highlands would manage at surviving if they were moved from their cozy homes and placed in the Regions.
“We’ll use it for as long as we can,” Dean says, taking the box of matches from Sam. He lights one and throws it into the fireplace, the kindling made from leaves and small, dried twigs that they’ve kept as a supply lighting up first.
Sam leaves the room to change into some nightwear, and Dean uses the opportunity to walk over towards Cas and pull him close against his body. Cas moves without much resistance, other than a weak protest of “Dean,” which he’s sure is supposed to come out as chastising, but sounds much more like a plead to continue instead.
“Yes, baby?” Dean asks, peppering kisses over his cold neck, and blowing open-mouthed against it. Cas shivers and wraps his own arms around Dean’s waist.
“Dean,” he repeats, breathless, “I am not your baby.”
Dean huffs out a laugh against his neck and presses his cold nose against it. “Whatever you say, Cas.”
They stand like that, curled up and enjoying each others warmth as they stand by the fire. When Sam comes back they pull apart and Cas starts to make hot drinks to warm them up.
Once the drinks are done, they sit on the floor together by the fire with blankets wrapped around them.
Sam puts his hearing aids in, which offers him some small opportunity for verbal conversation while he has his hands occupied holding his drink.
“You’re famous, you know,” Sam says to Dean, breaking the comfortable silence. “At school.”
“Aw, you talk about me that much?” Dean asks, raising his voice over the crackle of the fire and Sam shakes his head, smiling.
“They know of you, but they don’t know I’m the brother of the guy who saved them.”
It makes him feel uncomfortable, just like it always does, when he hears people talk about the escape from Dick Roman’s child prison. About the strong and brave men of the Regions who broke in, about the mysterious person who started the fire and gave them a chance of freedom.
There had been theories and carefully thought out conspiracies towards the entire thing, but it was just damn dumb luck that the day they set the fire coincided with the day John and the others stormed the gates. Dean doesn’t like to believe in fate, but that day made him wonder, still does.
“There are these other stories,” Sam continues, and looks over at Cas. “I don’t know all of them, exactly. I’ve just caught little bits. It’s about a teenage guy with dark hair and blue eyes who saved some kids in the Eating Hall.”
Dean watches as Cas’ eyes widen and his cheeks tinge pink. In the hours after their escape Cas had retold the story, but to Dean only. He’s never told Sam what happened between them leaving him and returning and Cas takes a sip of his drink, obviously buying for time.
Sam sits patiently, a kind smile on his face, but his eyes are alight with curiosity.
“Another time, maybe,” Cas says, and it’s soft and quiet, but Sam gets it anyway, must be able to see the refusal and the tired, closed off way he sits and Sam nods at him, looking apologetic.
The rest of the evening is spent relaxing in the warmth of the fire, signing and talking to each other, before they head up to their respective rooms to get a good night’s sleep before continuing the rest of the preparations on Christmas Eve.
***
~ 24th December ~
Dean wakes early the next day to start the long list of things he has to do. He heads out to the markets to buy gifts, starting with Cas’ first because he’s unsure what to buy him. He browses the stalls, makes small talk with some of the people he sees, and then goes over to Joseph Preacher who’s standing beneath the snowy canopy of his market stall.
He looks over the books and notepads and journals, all hand-stitched by him and decorated by his wife, and has a feeling this would suit Cas very much. He’s seen Cas admiring them before, and he’s suddenly certain it’s the right thing to buy.
“This one,” Dean says, running his thumb over the cover. It’s a good size, dark blue, and reminded Dean of Cas as soon as he saw it. “Definitely this one.”
“That’ll be 5.50,” Joseph says, taking the journal from Dean. “D’you like me to wrap it?”
“Just tissue,” Dean says, and the man nods, taking two sheets of dark green tissue paper and placing the journal on top, and folding the paper around it. He finishes it off with some silver thread and Dean hands him the money.
He steps back into the village square and makes sure the journal is safe inside the bag on his back. He knows where he has to go now, hopes the gift is ready for him at such short notice, and heads towards the Robertson’s home.
When he gets there he can already smell the log-fire, and he knocks three times before Mrs Robertson opens the door and ushers him inside.
“Dean,” she says, smiling up at him. She’s a short woman with light blonde hair that’s beginning to turn grey at the roots, and she always manages a smile whenever they meet. “You here to pick up the gift for your little brother?”
“That’s right, ma’am,” he says, taking the money pouch out of his pocket. “Your husband around?”
“I’ll go get him for you,” she says, and disappears from the room through a door in front of him. He stands in the main room of the house, counting through the correct money, when Mr Robertson walks through with the gift in his hand.
Dean sees it and grins.
“That is perfect, thank you,” he says, taking it and admiring the work that’s been put into it. “Seriously, this is awesome.”
Mr Robertson smiles at him, and Dean feels fond, the man reminding him of Bobby, if slightly less grouchy and shorter, just like his wife.
“No worries, m’boy. Call it twenty-five, and tell your brother to enjoy it.”
Dean thanks him, hands the money over, and takes the gift. He doesn’t stay any longer, wanting to get back before Sam wakes up and he has the chance to wrap it and hide it away before he sees.
When he arrives back he’s relieved to see the kitchen and main room both empty, and he goes up to his room to place the gift in the corner. Cas is changing the sheets on the bed as he walks in and he smiles when his eyes settle on the gift.
“He’s going to like that,” Cas says.
Dean lets out a breath and smiles. “I hope so.”
They share a sweet kiss before Dean heads back out the room and goes to Sammy’s room to wake him up for the day.
***
As the day draws to a close and they return to their respective rooms for the night, Dean feels hot with anticipation, like there’s a tightly pressed coil within him that’s been getting tighter and tighter all day. Dean looks at Cas and sees his intense gaze staring back, and the dark hunger in his eyes.
Dean walks forwards and starts to lift up Cas’ shirt, and spreads his hands over the warmth of Cas’ chest. The skin is soft and hot beneath his hands, and he tweaks a nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and Cas moans soft and low. Cas takes off his shirt completely and helps Dean take off his own, until they’re both shirtless and Cas ducks his head down to press hurried kisses across Dean’s collarbone.
Dean’s dick is already straining beneath his pants, and he can feel the hot length of Cas against his hip as they invade each other’s space and roam their hands over bare skin. As if on unspoken agreement, they both step back long enough to shred the rest of their clothes, and they stand in front of each other, naked and flush.
They both collapse onto the bed together, and wrap up in each other’s limbs in a tight embrace. They’re side by side, and Dean wraps his arms tight around Cas, rolling over onto his back and bringing Cas with him so he’s pressed beneath him.
Cas looks down at him and locks their mouths together, hungry for the intimacy, and Dean opens his mouth for him, pliant, and their tongues battle together, wet and messy.
“I want you to fuck me,” Dean says in between hungry kisses. “I want you in me, Cas.”
“Yes,” Cas replies between kisses, his fingers threading through the short cut of Dean’s hair. “I want to fuck you. I want you to come apart beneath me. Dean.”
“Fuck--”
Dean’s cut off by Cas’ hungry mouth, and Dean melts beneath the intensity of it. He likes it when Cas takes charge, when he can become loose and pliable beneath Cas’ hands, which are clever and know all the tricks to bring him coming in under a minute, or slow enough for it to be teasing and torturous.
Cas peppers kisses down Dean’s body and stops once he reaches his hips, and presses his lips there, wide and open-mouthed, and sucks hard against his skin. Dean lifts his hips up with a moan, and Cas pushes him back down with one hand and makes low sounds in the back of his throat.
Tonight it seems Cas is taking it slow, intent on making Dean hunger for it, but there’s still an urgency and fire behind his movements and his touch that makes Dean feel electric and begging for Cas to be in him, filling him up.
Cas spreads Dean’s legs wider and dips his head low and Dean shifts, restless on the bed. He’s anticipating it, knows what Cas is doing, and clenches his hands in the sheets either side of him. Then there’s hot breath against him and he brings his knees up against his chest, spreading himself wide and on view. Cas groans, low and hoarse like gravel, and presses his hands against Dean’s thighs to keep his legs up and leans lower to breath hot and heavy against Dean’s hole.
He squirms, anxious, and clenches at nothing, letting out a whimper that at any other time he’d be embarrassed about.
“Fucking hell, Cas, get your fucking mouth--”
He’s cut off as Cas licks once, hot and slow over his hole and Dean moans, guttural and scratchy, already feeling the tight coil inside as it gets tighter and tighter, waiting for release.
“Patience,” Cas says, pulling back, already sounding fucked out, his hair at odd angles and his fingers pressing tight against the back of Dean’s thighs that are becoming slick with sweat. Dean’s whimper appears to be enough though, and he leans back down and licks at his hole, twists his tongue around the entrance before pushing in, firm and steady.
Dean tries to relax as best he can to let Cas inside, but the feeling is so intimate and right it’s difficult to keep a steady thread on his thoughts. Dean always crumbles beneath this, loses all coherency, and Cas knows how to do it just right to send him to the edge and let him hang there.
He licks him out, darts his tongue in and out, and moves his hands from Dean’s thighs to spread Dean’s ass cheeks wider and Dean moans, lifting his ass up a little more to meet him. He’s lost all ability to speak when he’s like this, and can already feel the hot-white spread of pleasure thrum through him as Cas slips a finger in alongside his tongue.
He’s usually pretty vocal in bed, not afraid to tell Cas what he wants and how he wants it. But when he’s spread out like this, his ass in the air, Cas licking him out and twisting his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace, he loses all coherency and ability to speak. It’s all moans and whimpers and the occasional swearing and Cas. All he can think about is Cas, and how soon it’s going to be Cas’ dick inside him, and he clenches at the thought, moaning out.
“Dean,” Cas says, urgent, and Dean nods, looking down at him.
“Yeah, yeah, add another one.”
Cas spreads him with his fingers, thorough and slick, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut, losing himself to the feeling as Cas adds a third and he relishes the hot pleasurable burn. He knows he’s getting close, too close, and he breathes heavy and fast.
“Come on, Cas,” he pleads, and Cas pulls back just like that, and Dean lets out a quick breath, trying to steady himself. His legs are shaking and he lowers them, just for a moment as Cas spreads the lube over his dick and positions himself at Dean’s entrance with one hand.
“Spread your legs,” Cas says, and Dean does so without thinking about it, because he trusts Cas explicitly and this is all he wants right now. He loves the intimate connection they share when they come apart like this, when they come together and they lose themselves in the other. Cas positions himself in front of Dean, and Dean spreads his legs further, making himself more accessible.
The first push is slow and steady and Dean keeps his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to adjust, as always, to the feeling of Cas inside him. He grips Cas’ biceps and wraps his legs around Cas’ waist, pulling him close at the small of his back.
Cas moves willingly until he bottoms out and they share a groan, lips meeting each other again. There’s a short pause as Dean breathes out slow, and then he nods, and Cas’ hips begin to move out, and then in again, in tiny increments. Dean feels drunk on it, at the feel of Cas inside him, Cas’ hands in Dean’s hair, his mouth as he moves over Dean’s neck. He starts to meet Cas’ thrusts, lifting his ass up, and Cas thrusts in again, hard, and Dean arches up off the bed, nails digging into Cas’ skin.
“There, fuck,” Dean bites out, toes curling as Cas continues to slam into him at just the right angle, at just the pace Dean likes, and he bites his lip, feeling the pleasure crackle inside him like electricity.
“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes open, meeting Cas’ burning, blue ones staring down at him.
Like this Dean doesn’t think he’s going to last long, can feel the orgasm building and building, and he wants it deeper than this, wants to feel Cas all the way to his core.
“Stop,” Dean says, between harsh breaths, and Cas hips stop without hesitation and he stares down at him with a frown.
“What--”
Dean pulls back and Cas moves out of him, still confused, and Dean wastes no time in turning over, onto his knees, and raising his ass into the air. Cas presses his fingers into his hips as he pushes back in, his breathing picking up again, and Dean clenches around Cas’ dick, knowing that Cas is now able to thrust deeper into him.
“Dean,” Cas moans from above him, and they breathe for a moment in this new position before Cas starts moving out again, and then thrusts back in, hard, hitting Dean’s prostate and making him collapse further forward onto the bed
Cas’ pace becomes fast and hard and Dean screams out, can’t stop the sound that forces its way out and he’s so close now, the pleasure bursting through his bones as he clenches around Cas’ dick, and then he’s stilling and all once he’s coming hot and wet against his own stomach and he can think and feel nothing other than the pleasure.
“Dean--”
Cas’ hips stutter and then Dean can feel as Cas comes inside him, and Dean is breathing heavy on his front and Cas collapses on top of him with his dick still in his ass. He presses a kiss to Dean’s back and then huffs out a small laugh.
“I love you,” he says, voice raw and fucked out.
“I love you too,” Dean murmurs, feeling like all the energy has seeped out of him. Even with Cas draped over his back he can feel the chill of the room now that they’ve stopped moving, and Cas slowly moves out, Dean hissing at the feeling.
Cas presses a soft kiss to the small of Dean’s back without saying anything and then comes back with a damp cloth to wash him down. It’s freezing cold and Dean jumps at the touch, and when he turns to look Cas is smiling down at him.
“Bastard,” Dean mumbles, eyes slipping closed.
Cas leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, and says, “Mmhm. Get under the covers. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Dean does as Cas says and melts beneath the thick blankets. There’s a rush of cold air as Cas lifts them up to slip into bed, but then they’re curled up together and shifting away from the slight wet patch on the bed.
“G’night, sugar,” Dean says into the darkness and Cas kisses him.
“Goodnight, Dean,” he says, his voice soft and content. Dean traces small circles into the warmth of Cas’ skin until he falls asleep.
***
~ 25th December ~
When Dean wakes, it’s with Cas in his arms and light streaming through a gap in the wooden shutters. There’s no clock in their room but he’s sure it must be late morning. He leans forward and kisses Cas slowly on the mouth. At first there’s no response, but then Cas’ mouth moves against his and he blinks awake.
“Hi,” Cas says.
“Hi,” Dean replies, and can’t grinning, because Cas is disorientated and adorable whenever he wakes up, and Dean leans forward to kiss him again.
There’s the sound of a cupboard shutting downstairs and Dean lifts his head up off the pillow.
“Sammy’s awake,” he says, and Cas nods, sleepy, and sits up. They both slip out of bed and enter the shower together, keeping it as quick as possible beneath the slow trickles of freezing cold water.
“Should get a bath tub,” Cas says, once they’re stepping out and getting into warm clothes. “Then we could heat up water and have warm baths.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dean says, teeth chattering as he dresses up in layers.
Once they’ve finished washing and cleaned their teeth, they head downstairs to see Sam sitting at the table with a blanket around his shoulders and an old book in front of him. Cas walks behind him to stoke the fire and Dean walks in front of the table, Sam looking up to smile at him when he catches sight of Dean walking towards him.
Happy Christmas, he signs and Dean signs it back, still feeling sleepy, and smiles as he walks over to the sink to see if he can get some water to heat over the fire.
The morning is spent cooking all the food for Christmas dinner. They have meat and fruit and some vegetables and even some milk. They eat the pears as a snack while the food cooks, and share each other’s easy company.
They serve up the food once it’s finally cooked and Dean breathes in the smell of the meat, the vegetables and fruit and bread, and then they all dig in, smiling and happy. He wraps his ankle around Cas’ beneath the table and Cas looks towards him and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
They pull apart and Sam is very obviously paying attention to his food and Dean grins, and kicks Sam beneath the table.
Sam looks up at him and kicks back, sticking his tongue out, and Dean grins, feels like all this is too surreal. There’s a certain sense of anxiety that comes with this feeling, like back in the Outerlands. Like it’s all going to fall away from them, like this happiness is only temporary. Dean hopes with everything that this small slice of peace they’ve found is permanent.
After dinner they move into the main room with blankets wrapped around them, feeling full and sated after Christmas dinner.
“Presents, then,” Dean says, and Cas sits beside him on the couch, fitting against Dean’s chest, and Dean wraps an arm around him, pulling him close.
Sam is kneeling on the ground next to the tree, and picks up a small present wrapped in brown paper. He hands it to Dean with a little smile, as if he’s hesitant, and then stands up and sits on the armchair that’s opposite the couch.
“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean says, holding it in his hands. He runs his thumb over the top before pulling the string that’s holding it closed, and un-peeling the paper. A flash of silver falls onto his lap, and he picks it up without realizing what it is.
He lets it lie on his palm and takes a deep breath when he takes the sight of it in. It’s a pin, small, dainty and silver, and it’s shaped like a tree. He remembers long, blonde hair, a wide smile and soft hands tucking him into bed at night.
“Mom,” he says quiet, and he knows it was too soft for Sam to hear, but he still looks up to see Sam looking at him with an anxious expression on his face. He clutches it tight in one hand, and with the other signs, Thank you, and some of the anxiety leaves Sam and he smiles, something small and private.
I hope it’s okay, Sam says. I got it from Dad. Before he left.
I love it, Dean says, and unclenches his hand to see it still sitting there on his palm, and turns it over a few times, looking at it. Thank you.
They’re about to move on, give Sam his presents, when Sam pulls another from beneath the tree and hands it to Cas. He takes it, surprised, and Sam rolls his eyes at him and signs, You’re family.
Cas looks down at it, grateful, and from the way it’s wrapped it’s clear what it is, but he still takes an excruciatingly long time, carefully peeling the paper away. He pulls out a new slingshot, and examines it with a soft smile on his face, and the love Dean feels for both of these people threatens to burst out of him, and he’s grinning as Cas takes it all in.
“Thank you, Sam,” he says, and he sounds almost choked, and Sam replies with a simple, “You’re welcome.”
The next present for Sam is from Cas, and Sam opens the carefully wrapped paper to find a book. Sam flicks through it curiously, and when he looks up Cas tells him it’s his favorite. Sam smiles, grateful, and Cas signs, You’re welcome.
Dean stands up and Sam looks up at him with questioning eyes.
Going to get your present, Dean says, and Sam frowns at him. Dean smirks as he heads out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom he shares with Cas, and gets the already wrapped present from the corner of the room. It’s not wrapped as well as it could be, and it’s obvious what it is, so he’d kept it hidden.
When he walks into the living room, Sam walks over and takes it, his eyes wide. He rips into the paper and looks up at Dean with a stunned expression.
Dean bites his lip, suddenly feeling anxious. “It’s specially made. To your height, and everything. I thought, if you wanted to learn? I mean, if you don’t, I can take it back. Get something else...”
Dean realizes he’s rambling, but before he can continue, Sam has placed the bow and the pouch of arrows on the floor and is running over to wrap his arms around him. Dean freezes, stunned, before relaxing, and hugging Sam back.
Sam pulls away, signs, Thank you. I love it, and Dean lets out a breath of relief.
Teach me, Sam says. In the spring.
Dean smiles at him and nods. “I will.”
Sam spends a few minutes looking the bow over before Dean hands Sam the hearing aid batteries.
Sam takes them and it takes a moment and then he grins and keeps saying, thank you thank you thank you.
Shut up, Dean replies, and Sam looks like his eyes are getting watery, so Dean rolls his eyes and lets Sam hug him again.
Once Sam has released him, Dean bends down and picks up his present for Cas, and then sits down next to him on the couch.
“It’s nothing much,” Dean says, as Cas turns the gift over in his hands. “I thought you’d like it though.”
Cas slowly unwraps it and pulls the journal from its tissue paper, and turns it over again a few times in his hands. Dean waits anxiously for Cas’ response, as he opens it and traces a hand over the lined pages.
He looks up, and then he grins, the skin around his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
Dean lets out a small huff of breath, relieved, and puts his hand on Cas’ thigh. “It’s not anything big, but you like to write, so--”
“Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off with a quick kiss. “It’s perfect.”
“Good,” Dean says, and kisses him again, relaxing into it.
“And now,” Cas says, pulling back, “I’ll give you yours.”
Cas picks up the last gift under the tree and hands it to Dean. It’s fairly large and feels soft between Dean’s hands. He tears the paper off and he lifts up a jumper, that looks warm and just his size out of the material.
“Thanks, Cas, I--”
He breaks off when he looks closer to see the patterns that have been knitted into the material. It’s a dark blue with white spots that run along the bottom like snowflakes, and there are small, simple angels that run in a line above that. There are also hearts, and christmas trees that are a little wonky, as well as some C’s and D’s.
He runs his hands over the material and feels a few uneven places, with lumps and holes a little larger than in other places, and there’s a string of thread coming off the sleeve. He squeezes it tight in his hands and he grins.
“You made this,” he says, and it’s not a question because he knows, and he looks over at Cas to see a faint blush on his cheeks.
“I’ve had some free time over the last few weeks,” he says.
“I... I love it, Cas.” He leans forwards and brushes his lips against Cas’. Softly, he says, “I love you.”
They kiss and Dean smiles into it, and feels as Cas relaxes against him. Dean knows Cas didn’t know how to knit before they came here, knows he must have learnt specifically to knit Dean this jumper, and although it’s a little ugly, probably doesn’t fit quite right and is uneven, Dean fucking loves it.
They pull apart, both grinning at each other, and Cas simply says, “I didn’t want you to get cold.”
Dean grins at him.
After the presents have all been opened, they put the wrapping paper into the fire and watch as the smoke rises, and they warm their hands against the heat of the flames. Cas makes them all hot drinks and Dean and Cas sit together talking while Sam reads his new book.
A few hours later, there’s a knock at the door.
Dean walks over to it, feeling happy and content, and he opens it. He freezes and sucks in a breath. Sam and Cas fall silent behind him, and he absently realizes he’s letting the cold in from outside.
The guest smiles them. “Hello.”
*** 'verse masterpost
A/N: I originally intended this fic to be about 3k, but there we go. The person who turned up at their door will be revealed at a later date. I hope you enjoyed reading :)
Author: skylinehorizon
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Length: 11k
Warnings: swearing, hearing loss/deafness, sex.
Summary: Sam, Dean and Cas spend their first Christmas together in their new home. Set a few months after War Of The Regions ends.
Notes: Timestamp in the War Of The Regions ‘verse. This isn’t the Jo and Gabriel sequel I know some people are hoping for, but this is something to hopefully tide you over a little bit longer. It’s set around Christmas, so sorry it’s late, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!
PDF - Text Only (I often have formatting problems copying over from Pages to here, so that might be the best bet! If anything seems strange below, then please say and I will adjust it.)
Pinecones, Pears and Mistletoe (part of the War Of The Regions ‘verse)
by skylinehorizon
Part 1 | 'verse masterpost
***
~ 23rd December ~
The snow begins to gently fall again the just after lunch the next day. As they walk towards the center of the village, Sam holding a small lantern, the sound of voices floats through the air, and more lanterns are littered around the square to cast a faint orange glow in the dull afternoon light.
There are a group of boys and girls, younger than Sammy, standing in a formation of two lines, and they’re singing. Sam, Dean and Cas stop within the crowd of people who are watching and Sam taps Dean on the arm and raises his eyebrows.
Christmas songs, Dean signs, and Sam nods, gives a little smile, and looks back to them. It’s calm and it’s soft, and Dean’s chest constricts knowing that even with his new hearing aids Sam wouldn’t be able to hear their voices, which are high and sweet in the innocent way children’s voices are. It’s almost disturbing to know that these children were uprooted from their burning homes only a few months ago, and are lucky to be alive.
Cas’ hand finds his and they lace their numb fingers together. He watches Sam, at the gentle smile on his face, and he swallows hard because he can’t be enjoying this, he can’t be watching and knowing that he’s missing out on the entire point of it all. He looks back over at Cas and Cas smiles at him.
“We should do something for Sam,” Dean says quietly. “I don’t know what - just. This must suck for him, you know?”
Cas glances over at Sam, back to the carol singers, and then grips Dean’s hand tight. “I have an idea.”
Cas taps Sam’s shoulder and he turns around. Come on, Cas signs. We’re going somewhere.
Sam frowns, but starts to follow as Cas leads them away from the singing children and towards the edge of the forest. They walk at a steady pace, with Cas in the front and Dean at the back, and he finds himself paying attention to their surroundings in the same way he’s used to doing from the months spent in the forests during the summer. He knows most of these forests by now, the place where the berries are best, the lakes and the streams, but Cas is taking them on a route he doesn’t usually go.
Sam continues to carry the lamp and throws curious glances back to Dean, but Dean just shrugs, happy to follow Cas and see where they end up.
“Cas,” Sam calls from behind, and Cas spins and slows down in his walking to offer Sam his attention.
Sam makes the sign for where?, and Cas knows enough now that Dean doesn’t need to translate.
Surprise, Cas replies.
They carry on walking up a sharp hill and Dean keeps a closer watch, making sure neither Sam or Cas slip against the slippery surface. The exercise is at least keeping them warm, but Dean feels the anxiety settle in his stomach at the idea of Sam getting ill again.
Sam pesters Cas again, a little while later, and Cas just replies with, Someplace beautiful.
It’s not long after that that Cas slows down as they reach the top and he looks back to them with a smile. They’re under the canopy of trees, and Cas points ahead of them, where the trees break apart.
They step through the branches and Dean feels his jaw drop at the sight in front of them. Cas has obviously had a chance to explore in the last few weeks while Dean and Sam have been in the Highlands.
Snow blows in wide circles across the tundra of white, and it looks as if there is no end, the horizon obscured by a blizzard of snow. Sam places the lantern at his feet and walks closer to the edge, his scarf whipping against his flush cheeks.
It feels like they’ve been here and done this before. Months ago on a rocky ridge, overlooking the Regions. It had been raining, a fierce lightning storm, and Dean had led Sam up to the top to watch the fantastic display, and feel the rumble of thunder in the ground.
Here, the only sound is the whistling of the wind, and other than that it is silent. This place doesn’t need sound, or words, and they huddle together a few meters from the edge and look over the village, its small orange glow looking tiny and insignificant next to the winter storm. To the north-east the Highlands lie, a large clump of city lights, but the snow is still obscuring it, and it makes it look almost peaceful and untouched. Trees all along the west are covered in a thick blanket of snow, and icicles hang from the branches of the trees where they stand.
Dean breaks one off and hands it to Sam, who takes it with wide eyes and a grin, and it melts in his hand.
Thank you, Sam signs, grinning at them.
Dean can’t help himself, and leans forward to ruffle Sam’s hair in just the way he knows Sam doesn’t like, and his face scrunches up as Dean brushes the snow away and it lands on his face.
Cas lets out a small laugh from beside him and Sam retaliates by leaning forward and ruffling up Dean’s hair. It’s not as long as Sam’s, and not as effective, and Dean smirks at him, satisfied.
They don’t stay long up there, mindful of the dying daylight, bitter cold and journey back home. Cas leads the way back but even though Dean is chilled to the bone and still worrying about Sam getting ill, he feels happy. He feels grateful and lucky to have found someone who cares about Sam’s happiness as much as he does, and Dean watches as Cas walks with a strong feeling of adoration within him, looking forward to curling up with him in bed and kissing every inch of his skin.
When they get through the door a little while later they’re freezing cold, and a small flurry of snow enters with them. Dean gets the fire started as soon as he’s across the room and Cas starts to fill a pot with water to boil. At first no water comes out the taps, and there’s just a creak, before it trickles slowly and then comes out, as cold as the snow outside, if not colder.
“I think the pipes may freeze soon,” Cas says. It’s something Sam and Dean have had to contend with every winter, and not for the first time since coming here, Dean wonders how well the people of the Highlands would manage at surviving if they were moved from their cozy homes and placed in the Regions.
“We’ll use it for as long as we can,” Dean says, taking the box of matches from Sam. He lights one and throws it into the fireplace, the kindling made from leaves and small, dried twigs that they’ve kept as a supply lighting up first.
Sam leaves the room to change into some nightwear, and Dean uses the opportunity to walk over towards Cas and pull him close against his body. Cas moves without much resistance, other than a weak protest of “Dean,” which he’s sure is supposed to come out as chastising, but sounds much more like a plead to continue instead.
“Yes, baby?” Dean asks, peppering kisses over his cold neck, and blowing open-mouthed against it. Cas shivers and wraps his own arms around Dean’s waist.
“Dean,” he repeats, breathless, “I am not your baby.”
Dean huffs out a laugh against his neck and presses his cold nose against it. “Whatever you say, Cas.”
They stand like that, curled up and enjoying each others warmth as they stand by the fire. When Sam comes back they pull apart and Cas starts to make hot drinks to warm them up.
Once the drinks are done, they sit on the floor together by the fire with blankets wrapped around them.
Sam puts his hearing aids in, which offers him some small opportunity for verbal conversation while he has his hands occupied holding his drink.
“You’re famous, you know,” Sam says to Dean, breaking the comfortable silence. “At school.”
“Aw, you talk about me that much?” Dean asks, raising his voice over the crackle of the fire and Sam shakes his head, smiling.
“They know of you, but they don’t know I’m the brother of the guy who saved them.”
It makes him feel uncomfortable, just like it always does, when he hears people talk about the escape from Dick Roman’s child prison. About the strong and brave men of the Regions who broke in, about the mysterious person who started the fire and gave them a chance of freedom.
There had been theories and carefully thought out conspiracies towards the entire thing, but it was just damn dumb luck that the day they set the fire coincided with the day John and the others stormed the gates. Dean doesn’t like to believe in fate, but that day made him wonder, still does.
“There are these other stories,” Sam continues, and looks over at Cas. “I don’t know all of them, exactly. I’ve just caught little bits. It’s about a teenage guy with dark hair and blue eyes who saved some kids in the Eating Hall.”
Dean watches as Cas’ eyes widen and his cheeks tinge pink. In the hours after their escape Cas had retold the story, but to Dean only. He’s never told Sam what happened between them leaving him and returning and Cas takes a sip of his drink, obviously buying for time.
Sam sits patiently, a kind smile on his face, but his eyes are alight with curiosity.
“Another time, maybe,” Cas says, and it’s soft and quiet, but Sam gets it anyway, must be able to see the refusal and the tired, closed off way he sits and Sam nods at him, looking apologetic.
The rest of the evening is spent relaxing in the warmth of the fire, signing and talking to each other, before they head up to their respective rooms to get a good night’s sleep before continuing the rest of the preparations on Christmas Eve.
***
~ 24th December ~
Dean wakes early the next day to start the long list of things he has to do. He heads out to the markets to buy gifts, starting with Cas’ first because he’s unsure what to buy him. He browses the stalls, makes small talk with some of the people he sees, and then goes over to Joseph Preacher who’s standing beneath the snowy canopy of his market stall.
He looks over the books and notepads and journals, all hand-stitched by him and decorated by his wife, and has a feeling this would suit Cas very much. He’s seen Cas admiring them before, and he’s suddenly certain it’s the right thing to buy.
“This one,” Dean says, running his thumb over the cover. It’s a good size, dark blue, and reminded Dean of Cas as soon as he saw it. “Definitely this one.”
“That’ll be 5.50,” Joseph says, taking the journal from Dean. “D’you like me to wrap it?”
“Just tissue,” Dean says, and the man nods, taking two sheets of dark green tissue paper and placing the journal on top, and folding the paper around it. He finishes it off with some silver thread and Dean hands him the money.
He steps back into the village square and makes sure the journal is safe inside the bag on his back. He knows where he has to go now, hopes the gift is ready for him at such short notice, and heads towards the Robertson’s home.
When he gets there he can already smell the log-fire, and he knocks three times before Mrs Robertson opens the door and ushers him inside.
“Dean,” she says, smiling up at him. She’s a short woman with light blonde hair that’s beginning to turn grey at the roots, and she always manages a smile whenever they meet. “You here to pick up the gift for your little brother?”
“That’s right, ma’am,” he says, taking the money pouch out of his pocket. “Your husband around?”
“I’ll go get him for you,” she says, and disappears from the room through a door in front of him. He stands in the main room of the house, counting through the correct money, when Mr Robertson walks through with the gift in his hand.
Dean sees it and grins.
“That is perfect, thank you,” he says, taking it and admiring the work that’s been put into it. “Seriously, this is awesome.”
Mr Robertson smiles at him, and Dean feels fond, the man reminding him of Bobby, if slightly less grouchy and shorter, just like his wife.
“No worries, m’boy. Call it twenty-five, and tell your brother to enjoy it.”
Dean thanks him, hands the money over, and takes the gift. He doesn’t stay any longer, wanting to get back before Sam wakes up and he has the chance to wrap it and hide it away before he sees.
When he arrives back he’s relieved to see the kitchen and main room both empty, and he goes up to his room to place the gift in the corner. Cas is changing the sheets on the bed as he walks in and he smiles when his eyes settle on the gift.
“He’s going to like that,” Cas says.
Dean lets out a breath and smiles. “I hope so.”
They share a sweet kiss before Dean heads back out the room and goes to Sammy’s room to wake him up for the day.
***
As the day draws to a close and they return to their respective rooms for the night, Dean feels hot with anticipation, like there’s a tightly pressed coil within him that’s been getting tighter and tighter all day. Dean looks at Cas and sees his intense gaze staring back, and the dark hunger in his eyes.
Dean walks forwards and starts to lift up Cas’ shirt, and spreads his hands over the warmth of Cas’ chest. The skin is soft and hot beneath his hands, and he tweaks a nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and Cas moans soft and low. Cas takes off his shirt completely and helps Dean take off his own, until they’re both shirtless and Cas ducks his head down to press hurried kisses across Dean’s collarbone.
Dean’s dick is already straining beneath his pants, and he can feel the hot length of Cas against his hip as they invade each other’s space and roam their hands over bare skin. As if on unspoken agreement, they both step back long enough to shred the rest of their clothes, and they stand in front of each other, naked and flush.
They both collapse onto the bed together, and wrap up in each other’s limbs in a tight embrace. They’re side by side, and Dean wraps his arms tight around Cas, rolling over onto his back and bringing Cas with him so he’s pressed beneath him.
Cas looks down at him and locks their mouths together, hungry for the intimacy, and Dean opens his mouth for him, pliant, and their tongues battle together, wet and messy.
“I want you to fuck me,” Dean says in between hungry kisses. “I want you in me, Cas.”
“Yes,” Cas replies between kisses, his fingers threading through the short cut of Dean’s hair. “I want to fuck you. I want you to come apart beneath me. Dean.”
“Fuck--”
Dean’s cut off by Cas’ hungry mouth, and Dean melts beneath the intensity of it. He likes it when Cas takes charge, when he can become loose and pliable beneath Cas’ hands, which are clever and know all the tricks to bring him coming in under a minute, or slow enough for it to be teasing and torturous.
Cas peppers kisses down Dean’s body and stops once he reaches his hips, and presses his lips there, wide and open-mouthed, and sucks hard against his skin. Dean lifts his hips up with a moan, and Cas pushes him back down with one hand and makes low sounds in the back of his throat.
Tonight it seems Cas is taking it slow, intent on making Dean hunger for it, but there’s still an urgency and fire behind his movements and his touch that makes Dean feel electric and begging for Cas to be in him, filling him up.
Cas spreads Dean’s legs wider and dips his head low and Dean shifts, restless on the bed. He’s anticipating it, knows what Cas is doing, and clenches his hands in the sheets either side of him. Then there’s hot breath against him and he brings his knees up against his chest, spreading himself wide and on view. Cas groans, low and hoarse like gravel, and presses his hands against Dean’s thighs to keep his legs up and leans lower to breath hot and heavy against Dean’s hole.
He squirms, anxious, and clenches at nothing, letting out a whimper that at any other time he’d be embarrassed about.
“Fucking hell, Cas, get your fucking mouth--”
He’s cut off as Cas licks once, hot and slow over his hole and Dean moans, guttural and scratchy, already feeling the tight coil inside as it gets tighter and tighter, waiting for release.
“Patience,” Cas says, pulling back, already sounding fucked out, his hair at odd angles and his fingers pressing tight against the back of Dean’s thighs that are becoming slick with sweat. Dean’s whimper appears to be enough though, and he leans back down and licks at his hole, twists his tongue around the entrance before pushing in, firm and steady.
Dean tries to relax as best he can to let Cas inside, but the feeling is so intimate and right it’s difficult to keep a steady thread on his thoughts. Dean always crumbles beneath this, loses all coherency, and Cas knows how to do it just right to send him to the edge and let him hang there.
He licks him out, darts his tongue in and out, and moves his hands from Dean’s thighs to spread Dean’s ass cheeks wider and Dean moans, lifting his ass up a little more to meet him. He’s lost all ability to speak when he’s like this, and can already feel the hot-white spread of pleasure thrum through him as Cas slips a finger in alongside his tongue.
He’s usually pretty vocal in bed, not afraid to tell Cas what he wants and how he wants it. But when he’s spread out like this, his ass in the air, Cas licking him out and twisting his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace, he loses all coherency and ability to speak. It’s all moans and whimpers and the occasional swearing and Cas. All he can think about is Cas, and how soon it’s going to be Cas’ dick inside him, and he clenches at the thought, moaning out.
“Dean,” Cas says, urgent, and Dean nods, looking down at him.
“Yeah, yeah, add another one.”
Cas spreads him with his fingers, thorough and slick, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut, losing himself to the feeling as Cas adds a third and he relishes the hot pleasurable burn. He knows he’s getting close, too close, and he breathes heavy and fast.
“Come on, Cas,” he pleads, and Cas pulls back just like that, and Dean lets out a quick breath, trying to steady himself. His legs are shaking and he lowers them, just for a moment as Cas spreads the lube over his dick and positions himself at Dean’s entrance with one hand.
“Spread your legs,” Cas says, and Dean does so without thinking about it, because he trusts Cas explicitly and this is all he wants right now. He loves the intimate connection they share when they come apart like this, when they come together and they lose themselves in the other. Cas positions himself in front of Dean, and Dean spreads his legs further, making himself more accessible.
The first push is slow and steady and Dean keeps his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to adjust, as always, to the feeling of Cas inside him. He grips Cas’ biceps and wraps his legs around Cas’ waist, pulling him close at the small of his back.
Cas moves willingly until he bottoms out and they share a groan, lips meeting each other again. There’s a short pause as Dean breathes out slow, and then he nods, and Cas’ hips begin to move out, and then in again, in tiny increments. Dean feels drunk on it, at the feel of Cas inside him, Cas’ hands in Dean’s hair, his mouth as he moves over Dean’s neck. He starts to meet Cas’ thrusts, lifting his ass up, and Cas thrusts in again, hard, and Dean arches up off the bed, nails digging into Cas’ skin.
“There, fuck,” Dean bites out, toes curling as Cas continues to slam into him at just the right angle, at just the pace Dean likes, and he bites his lip, feeling the pleasure crackle inside him like electricity.
“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes open, meeting Cas’ burning, blue ones staring down at him.
Like this Dean doesn’t think he’s going to last long, can feel the orgasm building and building, and he wants it deeper than this, wants to feel Cas all the way to his core.
“Stop,” Dean says, between harsh breaths, and Cas hips stop without hesitation and he stares down at him with a frown.
“What--”
Dean pulls back and Cas moves out of him, still confused, and Dean wastes no time in turning over, onto his knees, and raising his ass into the air. Cas presses his fingers into his hips as he pushes back in, his breathing picking up again, and Dean clenches around Cas’ dick, knowing that Cas is now able to thrust deeper into him.
“Dean,” Cas moans from above him, and they breathe for a moment in this new position before Cas starts moving out again, and then thrusts back in, hard, hitting Dean’s prostate and making him collapse further forward onto the bed
Cas’ pace becomes fast and hard and Dean screams out, can’t stop the sound that forces its way out and he’s so close now, the pleasure bursting through his bones as he clenches around Cas’ dick, and then he’s stilling and all once he’s coming hot and wet against his own stomach and he can think and feel nothing other than the pleasure.
“Dean--”
Cas’ hips stutter and then Dean can feel as Cas comes inside him, and Dean is breathing heavy on his front and Cas collapses on top of him with his dick still in his ass. He presses a kiss to Dean’s back and then huffs out a small laugh.
“I love you,” he says, voice raw and fucked out.
“I love you too,” Dean murmurs, feeling like all the energy has seeped out of him. Even with Cas draped over his back he can feel the chill of the room now that they’ve stopped moving, and Cas slowly moves out, Dean hissing at the feeling.
Cas presses a soft kiss to the small of Dean’s back without saying anything and then comes back with a damp cloth to wash him down. It’s freezing cold and Dean jumps at the touch, and when he turns to look Cas is smiling down at him.
“Bastard,” Dean mumbles, eyes slipping closed.
Cas leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, and says, “Mmhm. Get under the covers. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Dean does as Cas says and melts beneath the thick blankets. There’s a rush of cold air as Cas lifts them up to slip into bed, but then they’re curled up together and shifting away from the slight wet patch on the bed.
“G’night, sugar,” Dean says into the darkness and Cas kisses him.
“Goodnight, Dean,” he says, his voice soft and content. Dean traces small circles into the warmth of Cas’ skin until he falls asleep.
***
~ 25th December ~
When Dean wakes, it’s with Cas in his arms and light streaming through a gap in the wooden shutters. There’s no clock in their room but he’s sure it must be late morning. He leans forward and kisses Cas slowly on the mouth. At first there’s no response, but then Cas’ mouth moves against his and he blinks awake.
“Hi,” Cas says.
“Hi,” Dean replies, and can’t grinning, because Cas is disorientated and adorable whenever he wakes up, and Dean leans forward to kiss him again.
There’s the sound of a cupboard shutting downstairs and Dean lifts his head up off the pillow.
“Sammy’s awake,” he says, and Cas nods, sleepy, and sits up. They both slip out of bed and enter the shower together, keeping it as quick as possible beneath the slow trickles of freezing cold water.
“Should get a bath tub,” Cas says, once they’re stepping out and getting into warm clothes. “Then we could heat up water and have warm baths.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dean says, teeth chattering as he dresses up in layers.
Once they’ve finished washing and cleaned their teeth, they head downstairs to see Sam sitting at the table with a blanket around his shoulders and an old book in front of him. Cas walks behind him to stoke the fire and Dean walks in front of the table, Sam looking up to smile at him when he catches sight of Dean walking towards him.
Happy Christmas, he signs and Dean signs it back, still feeling sleepy, and smiles as he walks over to the sink to see if he can get some water to heat over the fire.
The morning is spent cooking all the food for Christmas dinner. They have meat and fruit and some vegetables and even some milk. They eat the pears as a snack while the food cooks, and share each other’s easy company.
They serve up the food once it’s finally cooked and Dean breathes in the smell of the meat, the vegetables and fruit and bread, and then they all dig in, smiling and happy. He wraps his ankle around Cas’ beneath the table and Cas looks towards him and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
They pull apart and Sam is very obviously paying attention to his food and Dean grins, and kicks Sam beneath the table.
Sam looks up at him and kicks back, sticking his tongue out, and Dean grins, feels like all this is too surreal. There’s a certain sense of anxiety that comes with this feeling, like back in the Outerlands. Like it’s all going to fall away from them, like this happiness is only temporary. Dean hopes with everything that this small slice of peace they’ve found is permanent.
After dinner they move into the main room with blankets wrapped around them, feeling full and sated after Christmas dinner.
“Presents, then,” Dean says, and Cas sits beside him on the couch, fitting against Dean’s chest, and Dean wraps an arm around him, pulling him close.
Sam is kneeling on the ground next to the tree, and picks up a small present wrapped in brown paper. He hands it to Dean with a little smile, as if he’s hesitant, and then stands up and sits on the armchair that’s opposite the couch.
“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean says, holding it in his hands. He runs his thumb over the top before pulling the string that’s holding it closed, and un-peeling the paper. A flash of silver falls onto his lap, and he picks it up without realizing what it is.
He lets it lie on his palm and takes a deep breath when he takes the sight of it in. It’s a pin, small, dainty and silver, and it’s shaped like a tree. He remembers long, blonde hair, a wide smile and soft hands tucking him into bed at night.
“Mom,” he says quiet, and he knows it was too soft for Sam to hear, but he still looks up to see Sam looking at him with an anxious expression on his face. He clutches it tight in one hand, and with the other signs, Thank you, and some of the anxiety leaves Sam and he smiles, something small and private.
I hope it’s okay, Sam says. I got it from Dad. Before he left.
I love it, Dean says, and unclenches his hand to see it still sitting there on his palm, and turns it over a few times, looking at it. Thank you.
They’re about to move on, give Sam his presents, when Sam pulls another from beneath the tree and hands it to Cas. He takes it, surprised, and Sam rolls his eyes at him and signs, You’re family.
Cas looks down at it, grateful, and from the way it’s wrapped it’s clear what it is, but he still takes an excruciatingly long time, carefully peeling the paper away. He pulls out a new slingshot, and examines it with a soft smile on his face, and the love Dean feels for both of these people threatens to burst out of him, and he’s grinning as Cas takes it all in.
“Thank you, Sam,” he says, and he sounds almost choked, and Sam replies with a simple, “You’re welcome.”
The next present for Sam is from Cas, and Sam opens the carefully wrapped paper to find a book. Sam flicks through it curiously, and when he looks up Cas tells him it’s his favorite. Sam smiles, grateful, and Cas signs, You’re welcome.
Dean stands up and Sam looks up at him with questioning eyes.
Going to get your present, Dean says, and Sam frowns at him. Dean smirks as he heads out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom he shares with Cas, and gets the already wrapped present from the corner of the room. It’s not wrapped as well as it could be, and it’s obvious what it is, so he’d kept it hidden.
When he walks into the living room, Sam walks over and takes it, his eyes wide. He rips into the paper and looks up at Dean with a stunned expression.
Dean bites his lip, suddenly feeling anxious. “It’s specially made. To your height, and everything. I thought, if you wanted to learn? I mean, if you don’t, I can take it back. Get something else...”
Dean realizes he’s rambling, but before he can continue, Sam has placed the bow and the pouch of arrows on the floor and is running over to wrap his arms around him. Dean freezes, stunned, before relaxing, and hugging Sam back.
Sam pulls away, signs, Thank you. I love it, and Dean lets out a breath of relief.
Teach me, Sam says. In the spring.
Dean smiles at him and nods. “I will.”
Sam spends a few minutes looking the bow over before Dean hands Sam the hearing aid batteries.
Sam takes them and it takes a moment and then he grins and keeps saying, thank you thank you thank you.
Shut up, Dean replies, and Sam looks like his eyes are getting watery, so Dean rolls his eyes and lets Sam hug him again.
Once Sam has released him, Dean bends down and picks up his present for Cas, and then sits down next to him on the couch.
“It’s nothing much,” Dean says, as Cas turns the gift over in his hands. “I thought you’d like it though.”
Cas slowly unwraps it and pulls the journal from its tissue paper, and turns it over again a few times in his hands. Dean waits anxiously for Cas’ response, as he opens it and traces a hand over the lined pages.
He looks up, and then he grins, the skin around his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
Dean lets out a small huff of breath, relieved, and puts his hand on Cas’ thigh. “It’s not anything big, but you like to write, so--”
“Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off with a quick kiss. “It’s perfect.”
“Good,” Dean says, and kisses him again, relaxing into it.
“And now,” Cas says, pulling back, “I’ll give you yours.”
Cas picks up the last gift under the tree and hands it to Dean. It’s fairly large and feels soft between Dean’s hands. He tears the paper off and he lifts up a jumper, that looks warm and just his size out of the material.
“Thanks, Cas, I--”
He breaks off when he looks closer to see the patterns that have been knitted into the material. It’s a dark blue with white spots that run along the bottom like snowflakes, and there are small, simple angels that run in a line above that. There are also hearts, and christmas trees that are a little wonky, as well as some C’s and D’s.
He runs his hands over the material and feels a few uneven places, with lumps and holes a little larger than in other places, and there’s a string of thread coming off the sleeve. He squeezes it tight in his hands and he grins.
“You made this,” he says, and it’s not a question because he knows, and he looks over at Cas to see a faint blush on his cheeks.
“I’ve had some free time over the last few weeks,” he says.
“I... I love it, Cas.” He leans forwards and brushes his lips against Cas’. Softly, he says, “I love you.”
They kiss and Dean smiles into it, and feels as Cas relaxes against him. Dean knows Cas didn’t know how to knit before they came here, knows he must have learnt specifically to knit Dean this jumper, and although it’s a little ugly, probably doesn’t fit quite right and is uneven, Dean fucking loves it.
They pull apart, both grinning at each other, and Cas simply says, “I didn’t want you to get cold.”
Dean grins at him.
After the presents have all been opened, they put the wrapping paper into the fire and watch as the smoke rises, and they warm their hands against the heat of the flames. Cas makes them all hot drinks and Dean and Cas sit together talking while Sam reads his new book.
A few hours later, there’s a knock at the door.
Dean walks over to it, feeling happy and content, and he opens it. He freezes and sucks in a breath. Sam and Cas fall silent behind him, and he absently realizes he’s letting the cold in from outside.
The guest smiles them. “Hello.”
*** 'verse masterpost
A/N: I originally intended this fic to be about 3k, but there we go. The person who turned up at their door will be revealed at a later date. I hope you enjoyed reading :)