Character POV: Dean.

A/N: AND HERE IT IS! THE GIFT GIVING! This is a day later than I said, but it is a few days earlier than usual so all's fair, right? OK. So this is mostly ... feelsy-fluff? If that's such a thing? I dunno. But I hope you like it anyway. :)xxx


Chapter Four

A Betting Man's Game:

It was on Christmas Eve that Dean finally managed to pluck up the courage to give Castiel his presents.

Cas was sitting cross-legged on Dean's bed, reading his father's journal once again and Dean was sat opposite at the motel room table, half-heartedly surfing the internet for a hunt. For once though, he really didn't care if he found one or not. Yeah, they didn't really celebrate Christmas. Ever. But they did have an angel of the Lord tagging along with them indefinitely now and despite how recluse said angel had become since the Naomi incident, Dean thought it prudent that they do something to celebrate the day.

Sam had gone out,(taking a leaf out of Dean's pre-purgatory books), to a local bar, leaving his brother alone in the motel room with the angel. Dean could tell that this thing – whatever it was, going on between his baby brother and Amelia was getting to him. Sam tried to hide it with smiles and speeches about how he understands what indecisions Amelia is going through ever since Don came back on the scene out of bloody nowhere. But Dean knows Sam as well as Sam knows Dean and so he could tell that he was down. He hadn't brought any of this up to Sammy though, of course, because that's not when Dean does. He doesn't talk about feelings. Except recently, his mind reminded him, with Cas … Shut up! The dude's going through a lot and he needs to talk. And Sam is going through a lot too so he won't be as helpful as he would normally be. So it's down to me. And why am I talking to myself? Anyway, dragging his thoughts back to Sam and his drunken meander for tonight, Dean ran his fingers over his closed eyes, adding slight pressure which bypassed pain in an instant and went straight to relief. He hoped Sam wouldn't be gone too long, - long enough for Dean to give Cas what he bought but not long enough that it means Sam had slept with someone. He knew Sammy, and his brother wouldn't be happy about drunkenly sleeping his emotions away once he woke. He like Amelia too much to be able to brush that away. He'd feel guilty even though Dean was sure they weren't even technically 'together' anyway right now.

He had gotten something to hopefully cheer Cas up … maybe he should get something for his brother too? What though, he couldn't think. But he knew that Sam probably thought he'd be spending this Christmas at the opposite end of the spectrum. In a house, with a tree and presents and snow and eggnog probably even freakin' mistletoe. The whole deal. And not with his broken brother who has just realised that hunting monsters is probably the only thing he'll ever do and an angel of the Lord who seems to silently be going through an existential crisis.

Not that either of them could blame Cas for that though. After everything the poor bastard's been through Dean was just glad, more so than he was willing to admit, that Cas was still with them. Alive and kickin'.

Fisting his hands together on the table top, he turned his head to stare out the window. He couldn't see much save for the car park and the conjoining road, both blanketed in snows. So yeah: Sam was out and wasn't gonna be back for some time now, it was the perfect opportunity to do what he wanted; they were alone and wouldn't be disturbed and Sam wouldn't be there to make it more awkward than it was. He never really had friends to give gifts to before and so this started to feel increasingly daunting and he started to feel a little hot. He couldn't do it here. It was too confining and the room felt like it was getting smaller and Dean stood up and went to stand before the angel on his bed. They would go out. "Come on Cas, get up. We're going out."

"I do not wish to go out, Dean," Cas replied, not even caring to look up from the journal resting on one leg.

Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. "Yeah, well, I want to go out and you're coming with. No exceptions. So get up," he added as he tapped the angel on his free knee.

The touch made Cas close John's journal on his finger and look up at Deans shoulder. When he cocked his head to the side questioningly, Dean could have leapt for joy. "Why?"

"Because I said so that's why."

He still didn't look at him even for the smartass comment. "That's not a legitimate reason, Dean." It sounded as though he was scolding him and was tired of continuously doing so. Just like old times!

"Yeah, well … whatever," Dean said, waving his hand through the air to dismiss the matter. "Is the fact that I want you to come a 'legitimate enough reason'?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his hand awaiting the angels reply which didn't seem to be coming any time soon. The only thing Cas did was direct his gaze higher to the side of Dean's head. Dean didn't want to think about how girly that sentence sounded. After all, it wasn't that girly. Nothing that would question his manhood. All he wanted was his friend to go outside with him because the fresh air would do both of them a world of good right not. Just a friendly thing. Caring for a friend.

Fuck it. Action it is then.

He grabbed his father's journal from Castiel's grip and threw it down onto the bedside table. Cas put up no fight, he just sat there and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by the strong grip on his elbow. "You gonna come or what?" Dean asked him, trying to catch the angels eyes which were determined to not be caught by his green ones as he did so. He was gonna kick Cas' ass and make him come anyway but he thought it nice to ask.

The angel of Thursday merely nodded in agreement and so Dean turned away from his and dug around in his duffel bag which was laying at the foot of the bed for a spare pair of black gloves. He pulled on his own pair before throwing the extra ones to Cas who caught them with a furrowed brown. "Dean I–"

"–I know you don't need to wear them," Dean cut in as he fixed a scarf around his neck and shrugged on his leather jacket, "but it's fucking ice cold out and you can't walk around without and winter wear on otherwise people will question it. And whatever they say we can't afford to have. So," he said, dragging the word out a little longer as he pulled Sam's scarf from the table where the sasquatch left it and walked over to the angel, stopping before their toes touched, "just wear it, alright?"

Cas didn't answer, just started to pull the gloves on and so Dean took that as a 'yes' and began to tie Sam's scarf around his friends neck, his knuckles grazing against his cheeks and neck. Dean tried not to think of the surprising thoughts about how soft Cas' skin was and how much he wanted to touch every inch of it. Shit. No. Not happening! He managed to push those thoughts down, before they could expand into something more explicit, without Cas registering that something was up. He brought the trench coat collar to sit around the blue scarf and despite their distance,(or lack thereof), the angel still wouldn't fucking look at him!

Damn it! Dean was a closed off person when it came to admitting how he felt to someone or about someone, always had been and probably always would be. But it was different with Cas. It was always fucking different with Cas. And whatever it was that made it different scared him a little because he oddly always felt strongly for the stupid angel. At first it was because he raised him from hell, and then it was profound bonds and then it was 'like a brother', and now … well ever since Purgatory he hasn't been entirely sure that it was ever 'like a brother'. Or even like just a best friend. Of course, Cas was his best friend, his only friend and he loved him just as much as he loved Sam. Dean wouldn't be able to live without Sam and he wouldn't be able to live without Cas, yet somehow he knew the feelings were completely different. He tried to put a label on it but he just couldn't. Not yet. He hoped sometime soon though. Maybe tonight if he's lucky and the damn angel would just look at him once again.

He took Castiel's hand in his own without thinking and dragged the angel out of the motel room, not even sparing a glance back to see how his friend took it. Once they were across the car park and walking down the street, did Dean finally let go.

Now, he hadn't really thought through where in the hell he was going. Good plan. But as he faltered in his stride for a moment, it came to him that Cas hadn't ever enjoyed snow before. Sure he's probably seen it but most likely never actually looked. And so Dean started off in the direction that he remembered the town square to be with a wrapped up, confused looking angel in tow.


They walked together in silence, shoulders brushing every once in a while and both sets of eyes looking straight ahead. Cas only broke the silence once to ask Dean where they were going, to which the hunter replied that it was a surprise but he was gonna love it. The angel said no more after that and Dean was only too glad to accept the invitation for once. He was more nervous than he had any right to be. What if he makes a fool of himself? What if Cas hates the gifts? What if Cas gets all high and mighty about how Jesus wasn't even born in December and is angry with him? What if the angel laughs at him? Oh God, I wouldn't be able to deal with that … this is a bad idea. A very bad idea. It's gonna go terribly wrong and it'll be all my fault and I don't even know what I was thinking. He's a freaking angel of the Lord what the hell would he want to keep material items for? This is stupid. I should just stop. Go back to the motel now. Tell him I'm feeling too tired. It's not like he will care. He won't know what he's missing and I can just get rid of these presents from my pocket as soon as possible with everyone being none the–

His meditations of fear and overall internal panic were stopped short when his mind was brought back to the world around him and he finally took in the sight before him. When they had arrived at their destination Dean didn't know, he also didn't have the slightest clue when he had stopped walking and gave Cas the impression that this was where he was taking him. Maybe he'd said something without realising? It was possible. He remembered looking at the Christmas lights decorating the large square patch of grass in front of the town hall when they drove into town almost a week ago. It was the middle of the day then and so they weren't switched on and so he didn't see their wonder. They were everywhere. Along telephone wires, encircling lampposts, in the trees. Every colour of the rainbow. And they were bright. Incredibly so. Making the thick blanket of snow in the middle of it all seem all the whiter. But it wasn't the decorations or the snow that had caught his attention and made his breath hitch in his throat. Of course, the added to the spectacle but what really filled his mind … was Cas.

Cas. Castiel. Angel of Thursday.

Dean had never seen him look so much like an angel before. And that's including the times he's seen the shadows of the guys wings.

Castiel was standing a distance in front of him, on the snow covered grass and he was turning ever so slowly in a circle as he took every minute detail around him in. Dean couldn't help but look at him. At his dark hair that somehow looked messy but neat at the same time: his deep blue eyes that for the first time he could see in over a month, even if they weren't focused on him: his gloved hands that were held limply at his sides as he turned: every movement he made was so fucking graceful. Dean was kinda jealous. The lights shone down on him from every angle, making the shadow of his lean frame be cast down across the snow in all directions. Dean tried his best to gauge the angels reaction, to try and tell what he was feeling. If he liked it. Of course, Cas had always been hard to read with that almost constant stoic expression of his giving nothing away, but Dean needed to know. To know if he should carry on or not. And when Castiel finally did a full circle and stopped to face Dean, and when those blue eyes of his finally clicked into place where they belonged and where once again looking into Dean's soul. The hunter knew there was only one word for what he was seeing; beautiful.

And he no longer needed to ask. He knew. He had done good.

He had to plough on. "Hey, Cas," he called quietly through the meter-or-so distance that separated them, "do you know what day it is?"

"It's a Monday," Castiel answered, matter-of-factly, "and today's the day that you humans call 'Christmas Eve'."

"Yeah," Dean smiled, not yet willing to break to eye-contact in case it didn't happen again after this, "it's Christmas Eve. Christmas Day tomorrow where most families give each other gifts to … er … well, I suppose to show how much they care for each other." Castiel didn't say anything, he just stood there, staring, waiting for Dean to continue. He was scared. He was always scared but he wanted to do this. To show that he cared for Cas. That he wanted him to get better and be his friend again. So after a moment of silence between them, Dean carried on, "And I … er … got something for … you. Two things, actually and I wanted to give them to you, today. Now … if you want … I mean you don't have to … I can always take them back–" His gaze had begun to falter as he rambled and panicked again, and he was on the verge of reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the angel before he was cut off.

"–you got me presents?" Cas asked and Dean locked their eyes into place once more. His voice was quiet and if Dean tried hard enough he was sure he heard a little bit of disbelief in there somewhere.

"Yeah, Cas. Of course I got you presents."

"Did you get Sam any?" the angel asked as if he didn't look so genuinely interested Dean would've thought the question sounded a little accusing. Rightly so though because Dean hadn't gotten Sam anything. But then again as far as Dean was certain Sam didn't get him anything either because that's not what they did. And so Dean told Cas this, that the two of them didn't really celebrate Christmas and they never truly had except that one time before he went to Hell. And of course Cas took this all in and understood it all, because that's what he did. That was before Cas knit his brow in confusion and took a single step forward and asked: "Why then did you buy me something, if you don't celebrate the holiday?"

"Because I wanted to," Dean answered truthfully before he could stop himself.

The angel frowned. "But I haven't gotten you anything." And damn did he look sorry about that.

"It's fine," Dean assured him, joining him on the grass, closing the distance so they were only inches apart, yet far enough away for Dean to be able to give him the gifts without it being awkward, "you don't have to get me anything." 'Just get better,' was left unsaid but Dean thought that maybe Cas knew what he was getting at because something flashed in his eyes, something like recognition before it was doused out and replaced with curiosity. "And remember, I got you two things."

"You didn't need to get me anything either, Dean," Cas reprimanded him and it sounded just like when he said that he couldn't save everyone though he tried, as though they were both on the same level of self-loathing. But when Dean gave him a look he shut up and looked mildly excited about the prospect of receiving something. "What are they?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly as he spoke.

God he shouldn't be this nervous. They were just presents. Nothing special. "Erm … well, the first one is … well – just – here." He reached into his jacket pocket, which were surprisingly big, where he had been keeping the presents for the last few days and pulled out the bigger one. They weren't wrapped, but it was the thought that counts anyway, right? He gave to gift a once over before handing it to its recipient. He realised too late that the gifts actually had something in common. Cas. The first gift was a journal. A blank journal of the angels own. It had dark brown leather binding and it was kept shut by leather straps tied around the journal. On each end of the leather strap was a navy blue bead. Well, this was awkward. Even if the angel didn't realise it.

"It's a journal," Cas remarked quietly as he traced his fingers over the material as though it were the first bible ever written.

"Yeah, it's a … well … you've been reading my dad's journal a lot recently y'know and you've also been quiet like … as dead as a door nail quiet. I mean, I get that what happened these last couple of years has gotten to you and after what that bitch did to you once you were out of Purgatory - you have every right to have some sort of angel styled mental breakdown or whatever. And I know that I am the last person to be saying this because … well, I don't talk about anything. But you should. In fact I'm 100% sure you need to. And for some reason more than anything I'd like you to talk to me. But I understand that maybe you just can't right now … and if I have to wait I'll wait. Gladly. But for now I brought you the journal, it's blank and waiting to be filled. I thought that you could do what dad did with his and put all your supernatural knowledge into, and also, maybe write down what you're feeling or something. If you don't wanna talk to me or Sam. It'll be good for you to get it out even if it's just jotting in down on paper. I know how it is to have things weigh down on you and getting them out any possible way you can is such a damn relief. And lately I've been so … worried … about you. And, yeah – just – I don't know … you can write and maybe one day you'll be able to show it to me, or tell me what it says yourself … I don't – just – yeah, there it is."

He ended his sort of speech by coughing into his hand and drawing his gaze away from the journal in Cas' hands to chance a glance at the angel himself. His friend wasn't looking at him, but at his present. And for the second time tonight Dean's breath caught in his throat. Cas was looking at the journal as though it were the word of God himself, as though it was the best thing Dean could have ever gotten him. And maybe it was. He hoped it was. If Cas' face was anything to go by then, yeah, he got it right. "It's beautiful, Dean," Castiel said when he felt Dean's eyes on him and turned his head to look right back. "Thank you." There was something in his tone, in his eyes, that let Dean know that he wasn't just talking about the journal, of course the journal itself was a kind gift but it was the thought behind it that Cas was mostly commenting on. Dean didn't even want to suppress the grin that overtook his features next.

"Here," said Dean, holding out his hand for the book. Cas hesitated at first but place it delicately into the hunters hand. "Keep it in your coat for now," he told him as he dropped it into one of the trench coats pockets, "I have something else to give you, remember?"

Castiel looked shocked that Dean was going to give him something else after that. The gift must've cleared his mind of the prior knowledge or something. Dean smiled again, lightly at that. "Calm down, buddy. It's just something small, relax."

"You don't–"

"–I do," Dean said stubbornly and the angel closed his mouth and nodded jerkily for the hunter to continue.

Ok, if he thought the journal was awkward, then the second gift was going to be more so. He wasn't even sure if Cas would like it. You see, he had gotten the angel a necklace. He didn't even know why he did so but he did because it reminded him of Cas and he just couldn't help himself. But now, as he reaches into his pocket once more to pull it out, he falters. Because why on earth would an angel want to wear jewellery? Like, really? Maybe this was a bad idea. The journal: that turned out alright. More than alright. But a necklace? Like … no. Even though he himself had gotten one from Sammy all those years ago … maybe Cas wouldn't like it. It was exactly very, well, Cas. Crap. Now he's looking at me oddly. Wondering why it's taking so long. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he wraps his hand around the necklace in his pocket and pulls it out roughly. Holding it in the air between them. The silver pendant on the end swinging wildly in the space.

"It's a necklace," Cas whispered, looking at it, in the same tone that he said 'it's a journal'. Dean didn't say anything, didn't trust himself to speak, so instead he gently placed the necklace onto Cas' palm. The pendant sitting in the middle and the string falling over the side of his hand. Cas looked down at the engraving, as did Dean. It was simple. It was of two black angel wings. When he saw it in the store he just couldn't help himself, the reminded him of the shadows of Castiel's wings he had seen, and he bought it without a second thought. The angel didn't say anything, he just kept staring. And then Dean realised that they didn't have to say anything. Because they both knew. The label had come tonight, like he had hoped: love.

Dean took the necklace's cord into his hand again and pulled it from Cas' palm. The angel didn't object, or even make a sound. He just watched as the hunter undid the fastening, stepped forward, completely closing the gap between them and brought the necklace around his neck. One arm encircling him on either side, Dean squinting in the darkness to clasp the fastening into place again, their cheeks so close yet not touching, still able to feel the heat radiating off the other. When the necklace was securely in place Dean loosened Cas' scarf, so he could place the necklace under his collar and shirt, before tightening it around his neck again. He wanted it to mean something to Cas, maybe just like what the amulet Sam had given him had meant to Dean. He didn't ever want the angel to take it off. He wanted Cas' to not want to ever take it off.

Dean retracts his hands and lets them hand at his sides. He draws back ever so slightly, leaving their faces the closest they've probably ever been. Noses almost touching. "It reminded me of you," he says quietly and there's a ghost of a smile on the angels lips. Yet he still doesn't say a thing. Before he can stop himself, Dean leans forward and closes the gap entirely, gently pressing his lips to the angels. It's not hot and heavy and hungry. It's not making out. It's barely even a kiss. It's just a long, warm, passionate peck that after a heartbeat that Dean's heart didn't take, the angel presses back, his own vision joining Dean's in darkness as his eyes flutter shut. It's barely even there. It's loving.

He's scared to open his eyes. To see what reaction the angel will make. Because yeah, Dean's been beating around this bush for some time now and yeah the angel kissed back but this was Cas and he was so fucking nervous in case he was wrong.

His fears were dumbfounded though, and he realised this as he slowly opened his eyes as looked down at the angel who still had his eyes closed. And yet he wasn't hiding from Dean, because there it was. A smile. A true smile that Dean was sure he had never seen on the angel before. And he can't help but smirk as he says: "Cas, you're smiling."

If it's possible the angel smiled even brighter before answering seriously. "It's because I'm happy, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, and he know he sounds a shit ton of scared and hopeful at once.

"Yes," Castiel replied instantly and Dean's heart constricts. Because Cas is happy. For the first time since Naomi, Cas is truly happy and it's because of Dean. Because he kissed him. Because he got him those gifts. Because of him … and Dean says 'me too'.

"Dean?" Cas asked as Dean runs his nose up the length of Cas' own, stopping when he reaches the top to place his mouth on the top of his head, just where the hairline meets his forehead.

Dean breathes in the scent of Castiel's hair before answering. "Yeah?"

"I think it's three things now."

"Yeah," Dean laughed and places a soft caress on the angels head, "yeah, I think so too."


They don't do it again and they don't talk about it. Not for a while anyway. Because despite how much they both want to discuss it, to discuss each other. They can't. Not just yet, because Dean has priorities and at the top of the list is to get Cas better, to make him happy in life and in himself again. And the angel knows this. And the angel wants this even if he's not sure he deserves it. They both silently cherish the moment though. And Dean sees Cas writing in the journal when he wakes up on Christmas morning and every day after. And Cas never takes the necklace off, and has this thing where he finds himself playing with it whenever he watches Dean sleep.

Cas had finally brought himself to look into Dean's eyes again and like he said, it had been a betting man's game. The outcome, well, it had started but it hadn't truly unraveled yet. It wouldn't for a little while and Cas was ok with that. Because he had feared that it would go the complete opposite way and he would've lost Dean forever. But it had seemed that when he was looking he had gained Dean forever. And he could bring himself to wait until he got better to cash that in. After all, he had waited a million lifetimes. He could wait a little bit more.


A/N: Yeah, so ... hmm ... what do you think? I'm not too sure but maybe that's just me. And I'm pretty sure the tense jumps around in some places(my fault, because I'm half asleep right now but oh well, I wanted to get this up so sue me!).

I'm dunno ... let me know what you think? Were the gifts good?

xxx