He was going to dive back in again. He was going to just rush down to his car, tear off down the dark road and straight back to Cas at the tree lot. He didn't do that though. Instead, he stayed in bed. He watched the door, waiting for Sam's predictable check-in. He got up late and ate. He stared at the door. He read one of his books. He forced himself to return to a more passive place. He had grown use to the relative ease that the repeating days had offered. Somewhere in his head, he knew that he had to get back to that feeling a little if he was going to be okay.
The frustrations of the last couple of days would ruin him if he let them. He had felt like he was losing control. He didn't like that feeling. He didn't like it because it reminded him of before, when he wasn't himself. He shook his head as if to clear away those haunting memories. It had been him, and it had not been him. He couldn't let himself go there again. He knew that this was different, but the lack of control, the feelings, it was too much. So, he paused himself. He let his mind linger on things that felt controlled. He lingered on feelings that were pleasant. He found a great many of them circling around in his mind now.
By mid-afternoon, he had set his mind on a plan. He would cook. It was funny how cooking had become his thing. He almost had to laugh at the domesticity of it. He decided to make sugar cookies. He didn't think about the reasons for this choice. It just worked in his head. He wanted that taste. He thought about it and revised a little. Maybe a little cinnamon too. He threw his mind back into memories, licked his lips subconsciously and muttered to himself, "Yes, cinnamon too."
He mixed the ingredients together in the large metal bowl and started singing along with the holiday music that filled the room. He felt the tensions from earlier leave him as he turned his focus to the batter that was thick and sweet and lumpy. He stirred it and then dumped it out on the large countertop. He sprinkled flour on the industrial sized rolling pin and began rolling out the dough into a long flat cookie thick mass.
The song changed to "White Christmas" again and Dean went with it. He sang at the top of his lungs. It wasn't the worst sound ever. The volume of Crosby's vocals helped with that. He was so invested in his task that he didn't notice the audience that he had gained. Sam and Cas stood in the entryway, silently appraising him. Sam had a look of happy mirth mixed with a touch of horror, probably from being exposed to Dean's exceptional vocals. Cas looked serene and calm. Dean smiled at them both and continued to work the batter into a wider thinner mass.
"So, Dean, you okay?" Sam came into the kitchen a bit and reached out to the dough, as if to steal a piece to taste. Dean swatted his hand away.
"Don't touch." Dean kept on working. Cas came in and leaned against the far wall taking it all in. "Hello, Cas." Dean looked over at him quickly then back at his work.
"Hello, Dean."
"So, cookies, huh?" Sam seemed to be perplexed. Dean plucked up a small piece of the batter and flicked it at him. He was surprised when it actually hit its mark. Sammy, you are losing your hunter reflexes.
"Yeah, I needed to just do something simple. I wanted to do something that I didn't have to think too much about." He looked over at Cas as he said it, wondering if he needed to explain things. It wasn't like anyone knew what was going on besides him. It was his problem. Cas nodded though in a way that said that he got it. You always seem to get me. He smiled a little and went back to his task.
"Well, Cas just got back from the tree farm. He said that he wanted to investigate the hunt that we conducted yesterday. He said that we should look into it a bit more, make sure that we really took care of it." Sam walked over to the sink and filled up a glass of water. He drank it down in a quick series of audible gulps.
"Okay. Maybe later." Dean was pulling out cookie cutters now. He looked through them all. He shuffled some of them off to the side. The ones for Easter and Thanksgiving he tossed back into the drawer.
"Well, then. I guess I'll go back out and do some research then, while you...make cookies." Sam turned to go then said to Cas, "You want to come help?"
"I'm going to help Dean." Cas walked over and stood next to Dean to make his point, whatever that was.
"Clearly, I have fallen into bizarro world here." Sam left muttering, "Cookies, really."
"So, you want to help me make cookies?" Dean looked at him skeptically.
"Yes." He touched the cookie cutters in an exploratory way, moving them about, picking up one then another.
Dean picked up an angel cookie cutter and handed it to Cas. "Here. You can make some angels." Dean smiled at his little choice.
Dean picked up the one shaped like a gingerbread man. Cas looked at the cookie cutter in Dean's hand and said, "Switch." He traded with Dean. "I think that this would be better for me." Dean looked at him a little confused, but he took the angel and passed over the gingerbread man anyway. Dean started pressing the shapes into the dough in neat rows. Cas watched and then did the same with his patch of dough. He smiled over at Dean. "This is nice."
"Yeah. It is." He smiled back and then, just for the heck of it, he hip bumped Cas. "I'm glad that you are here."
Cas bumped him back. "Me too." Dean mixed together a little cinnamon and sugar in a bowl and then sprinkled it over all of the cookie shapes. They began moving the shapes to a cookie sheet, then to the oven that was already all warmed up and ready. Now there was nothing to do, but wait. Dean wanted to make icing for the cookies, but he could put that together while the cookies cooled. Cas was cleaning up the countertop. He had flour on his face. Dean caught him slipping a small piece of dough into his mouth, just to taste it. He wondered if Cas thought that it tasted like molecules. Sam had told him about Cas' funny sense of taste once. He seemed pleased with the taste though, or at least the experience. He was humming along with the song that was playing. It was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."
"So you know some Christmas songs now?" Dean ran a wet rag over the counter to wipe away the last remnants of the dough and flour.
"Yes, Sam gave me a collection of holiday music. I have been listening to it all in the car." Cas seemed to be speaking cautiously as though he was considering each of his words before he shared them.
Dean thought that caution was probably a good plan for himself too. So, he went down an easy, safe conversational path. "Do you have a favorite song from the collection?"
"No, but I do like this one. It is filled with kind words set to a melancholy tone. It is like life."
"Deep, Cas." Dean smirked. Cas just looked at him. Cas walked up closer to him.
He placed a hand on Dean's arm and Dean raised his own hand to Cas' shoulder. It was like all the other days, same move, different location. Dean decided to mix it up a little. He brought his other hand up to Cas' other shoulder. They stood facing each other. Dean swayed a little to the music, moving Cas a little with him. "What are you doing?" Cas asked quietly.
"What, Cas, you've never danced before?" Dean dropped one hand down to Cas' hand that hung loosely at his side. He held it and then in a dramatic move pushed Cas out into a spin. Luckily, Cas went along with it. It could have been awkward. He pulled him back to his chest swiftly and continued to sway.
"I've never danced." Cas' breath smelled of sugar cookie dough, for real this time, and a little cinnamon too. Dean leaned his forehead down to Cas'.
"It's been a long time for me too. I might be rusty." Dean kept his eyes open. He looked closely at the little spots of flour that flecked Cas' skin. His eyelashes were long. Dean looked past them into Cas' eyes and breathed, just breathed in and out. The song had long since moved on to something jollier, and more fast paced. They didn't change their dance though. They just rocked back and forth, holding each other in a room that smelled of holidays and sugar.
Cas reached up to Dean's face and ran his fingers along his cheek. "You are covered in flour. It is even in your hair."
"You too." Dean leaned back from Cas a little and ran his hand along Cas' jaw line. Then he rubbed away the flour on Cas' nose, but it just became a little smudgy instead. It is cute. Dean kissed the smudge. Cas brushed back Dean's hair and kissed his cheek. The cookie timer went off. They pulled them from the oven and set them out to cool. The afternoon would be warm like this well into the evening. Thankfully, Sam let them have this, without meddling. He gave them a few pointed looks when he came into the kitchen for dinner and then later to say goodnight. Dean let him look without comment. Comments would just make things awkward. So when Sam seemed to be speaking with his eyes, Dean just popped a sugar cookie in his mouth and then one in Sam's. When he and Cas were alone, he did the same with him too. He didn't want them to talk too much. No sense in spoiling the mood. Maybe we should make cookies tomorrow too. Only tomorrow we should decorate them. He never did get around to making the icing. Dancing had become much more necessary, and who knows, maybe tomorrow it would be again.
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AN: I hope that this supplied enough fluff for the day. Thanks for the kind words. They are so appreciated.
