Dean drove all the way from Kansas to California, detouring on the way to Sam and Gabriel's place in order to go to LAX airport. He was picking up Castiel and Samandriel, and hoping that the Kansas licence plate didn't make him too conspicuous. He had no idea how this whole book celebrity thing really worked, whether Castiel spent much of his time mobbed by paparazzi and crazy fans, or if it only happened around book launches … or if it happened at all. It had always been easiest to err on the side of caution and stay away from the furore completely.
He had been scouring the pick up area for them both, forgetting to look in the rear view mirror. He jumped as Samandriel opened the door to the backseat, slinging their cases in and taking a seat as Castiel glided in to the passenger seat. There was no entourage, no one chasing after Castiel … it was fine.
"Hey, how was your flight?" Dean greeted them as Samandriel clicked his seatbelt on.
"Ugh. Don't even. Baby three seats back would not stop screaming. Full on screaming. It's mom wouldn't shut it up, she said something to the air hostess about not believing in pacifiers. So now Samandriel has a migraine."
"Shhhh!" Samandriel groaned. Dean shrugged his jacket off, and passed it back to Samandriel, who took it gratefully, shoving it over his head and sliding down in the seat. "If you could not talk as well, that would be amazing."
"We'll get you to Sam and Gabe's buddy, then you can down some Tylenol until it knocks you out, okay?"
Dean knocked Samandriel's knee with his knuckle, and turned back around, starting the ignition. Samandriel groaned again, and Dean tried to drive slowly, taking it as easy as he could on his young brother-in-law in the crazy Los Angeles traffic.
"Okay, the rules of the game are simple. We all say one line, and we build a story. It'll be great!"
Dean tried his hardest not to trade a smirk with Ash. This was the first time that Chuck had left his room in a few weeks, and Castiel had encouraged them both to make the effort with him. But neither Dean nor Ash were in the creative writing class, and they found it difficult to relate, sometimes.
"You start, I'm going to get a beer,' Ash decided, standing up from his gamer chair. "Dean, you coming?"
Dean wanted to say yes, but Castiel caught his eye and he knew he had to refuse.
"No, just grab me one."
Ash rolled his eyes and drummed the top of the door frame before disappearing into the kitchen. Castiel settled into Dean's side on the couch as Chuck started the game.
"Okay, so, it was a dark and stormy night."
"You're sure you want to start with something so derivative?" Castiel asked Chuck, nudging Dean slightly with his elbow.
"So build on the weak foundations, make them strong."
"That would have been a better opener."
Chuck rolled his eyes and looked to Dean.
"You carry it on. Castiel won't over-edit you."
Dean squeezed Castiel's shoulder, and tried to think of something to add to Chuck's game.
"Um, and a dark-haired man called … called … Jimmy Novak was caught out in the driving rain."
Chuck looked at Castiel, waiting for his assessment of Dean's contribution, as Ash came back into the room, passing Dean a can of beer. They'd already given up on offering Chuck and Castiel alcohol.
"Jimmy Novak? Where the hell did that come from?" Ash snorted, stabbing a hole in his can and drinking it out of the side.
"I don't hear you trying this game, Ash," Dean shot back. Castiel squeezed his leg, just by his knee.
"You're doing an adequate job," he assured his husband.
"I have other skills," Dean winked back, and Castiel rolled his eyes.
"Hey, hey, house rules, no couple stuff outside your bedroom," Ash waved his finger at them. He turned to Chuck. "You send a guy to flirt one time and then suddenly they're married."
"See, if you wrote that in a story, that would be derivative." Chuck looked sideways at Castiel, who shrugged.
"They do say reality is far less believable than fantasy."
He tilted his head, resting it against Dean's shoulder, and Dean held him closer, kissing him through his hair as they listened to Chuck and Ash try to figure out some more of their made up story, leaving Dean and Castiel out of the game. Dean knew it was because they didn't think he was good enough, and they objected to Castiel's constant critique. He cuddled closer to Castiel, listening as Ash and Chuck built an increasingly unrealistic life for Jimmy Novak.
You couldn't miss Sam and Gabriel's house. Like all the other houses in their street, it was painted a pastel colour, a pale yellow that normally fit in well with the baby blue house to the left and the lilac house to the right. But when it came to the holidays, it was like Gabriel went all out on decorations. Dean was sure that they wouldn't have to use the light switches inside all night, the amount of fairy lights and light-up models that littered the front lawn and outlined the house. There was a tree out front that was so weighed down with fairy lights that it reminded Dean heavily of a sprinkle-laden cake pop. Castiel squinted at the luminous Santa-and-reindeer sled on the roof, and the snowman snow globe on the front lawn, which was edged with solar candy canes.
"It's official, they've out-gayed San Francisco."
Dean bit back his snort of laughter.
"Think they'll turn any of it off for Samandriel's migraine?"
Samandriel punctuated this statement with another groan, muffled only slightly by Dean's jacket.
"I'll pull the fuses." Castiel decided. "I am not living in the elves workshop the entire Christmas break."
Dean laughed, and climbed out of the car, heading to the back and helping Samandriel out. Castiel followed them up the candy cane lined path and rang the doorbell, waiting for a brother to open up and let them in. Sam was the one to open the door, and he looked at the sight of Dean, holding Samandriel with the jacket over his head, with Castiel just behind them, glaring at the decorations.
"Hey, why's Samandriel a hostage?"
Castiel stepped forward.
"We thought it would be a good bargaining chip to get you to turn down the damn decorations."
Sam stepped aside and let them into the house which was almost as bad inside as it was outside. Dean guided Samandriel into the front room and onto a seat, then went to grab some painkillers and a drink from the kitchen as Sam and Castiel unloaded the car. Samandriel was gulping down the pills as Castiel and Sam finally came back in the house.
"It was Gabe. I had a long day at the office, and I guess he had the day off, because I came home at eleven at night and wondered when our house became nuclear. I can't get him to take it down, inside or out. Every time I try, it's some line about Christmas spirit and calling me a Scrooge."
He crossed the room to sit beside the enormous Christmas tree that was covered in tinsel, and patted the dog in the basket that Dean hadn't even noticed.
"What has he done to the dog basket?" Castiel groaned.
"I know, he got to Scruff," Sam petted the dog, who lifted his head lazily, then flopped back down. "And Scruff's barely left the bed since. I think he's afraid Gabe's going to decorate it some more if he does."
Sam carried on fussing over his dog for a few moments before he looked up at them.
"So hey, you came all together?"
"Sort of. Dean picked us up at the airport."
Sam raised both eyebrows, and looked back at his dog.
"So, the era of secrecy is over?"
"Hardly," Castiel shook his head. "I knew LA would hardly care about some writer turning up. It's movie stars or nothing."
"You never know, someone could have got it on their camera phone," Sam pointed out. Castiel rolled his eyes, and Sam turned his attention to Dean. "Is your Christmas present to Cas going to be moving to New York?"
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, as Samandriel groaned beside him.
"Can I go to my room? My head's killing me."
Sam stood up with a couple of firm pats to Scruff's side, and then he helped Samandriel out of the room, and up the stairs. Castiel looked at Dean, and he had a sense of foreboding. Castiel had spent the last couple of weeks touring Europe, and Dean had been avoiding his calls since the parent teacher conferences, he knew that now they had the closest thing to privacy they were going to get this vacation, Castiel was going to bring it up.
"I guess you've been busy with state testing lately, huh?"
"Something like that," Dean's mouth felt dry.
"I've missed your voice," Castiel said quietly. "I thought we agreed that when we couldn't see each other, touch each other, we'd at least make sure we could talk to each other."
Dean was avoiding eye contact.
"I know, I've just been so busy. You know, grading term papers, parent teacher conference, getting roped in at the last minute to help with the drama club's performance of Romeo and Juliet. And with the time difference, I didn't want to call you at four in the morning."
"There are apps you know, where we can just leave each other messages to pick up whenever. Like an answerphone service without the cost."
"I know. But honestly, Cas, I've finished my work and just crashed, every night."
He knew Castiel wouldn't bite.
"That's amazing, Dean. The entire time we've been married, the past two weeks are the only time you've managed to get to sleep without me?"
Dean carried on trying to bluff his way out of the situation.
"I guess when I take on too much work I wear myself out."
Castiel stood up, moving towards the door.
"Just say it, Dean. You've been avoiding me because you don't want to move."
He left the room, and Dean's focus dropped to Scruff, who yawned and looked at him with overly innocent eyes.
"Don't you judge me too."
Scruff whined, and lowered his head onto his front paws.
Dean walked into the front room with Ash to find Chuck and Castiel standing around the coffee table, holding plastic wine glasses and bottles of cheap Prosecco. Ash strode over to Chuck and took one of the glasses from him as Castiel beamed at Dean.
"What's going on?" He asked quietly. "What're we celebrating?"
Castiel stepped forward and pressed a glass into his hand as Chuck answered.
"He wouldn't say until you came home."
Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist, and waited for Castiel to explain.
"Okay, so, I wrote this story in the year before we met, a personal project on top of assignments," Castiel's eyes were glued on Dean. "I showed it to my tutor and she said I had a good idea developing. So I finished a draft, got one of the other guys in class - Frank, he's totally crazy - to read it through, beta it. And then I sent it to a bunch of agents."
"So you got an agent? Awesome," Dean beamed. Castiel's smile faltered slightly.
"Well, yes, but that was back in February. We got a publishing deal through this morning." Castiel's eyes were wide with shock as he carried on talking. "There were four houses fighting over me, can you believe that?"
Dean nodded, and kissed his temple.
"I can't believe there were only four."
Castiel's smile hitched up further, and he tapped his plastic glass against Dean's. Ash and Chuck joined in, shouting 'cheers' before downing their glasses.
"I can't believe it won't be long until there's a Castiel Winchester book in the local bookstore," Chuck shook his head, and then seemed to drift off. "Although, by the time they've written Castiel Winchester on the cover, there won't be room for a book title, or a design."
"He could be C. Winchester?" Dean pointed out.
"Mr Dean," Ash smirked. Dean reached over and punched him in the shoulder.
"Maybe you could have an alias? Or whatever they call it. A pen name. Just so they can get more on the book."
Castiel had been taking a sip of his drink, but Chuck's comment had struck a cord and he paused with his mouth against the plastic.
"An alias would be beneficial," he mused. "I don't know what I'd do if my father suddenly turned up because he'd heard I'd written a book. But I wouldn't know what name to use instead of Castiel."
Chuck and Ash exchanged a supercilious look, and said together,
"Jimmy Novak!"
It had become a joke since Dean's contribution to the writing game. Who ate the last cookie? Jimmy Novak. Who peed on the floor instead of in the toilet? Jimmy Novak. Who downloaded gay porn onto Chuck's computer? Jimmy Novak. Whose turn was it to do the washing up? Jimmy Novak.
"Guys, are you blaming me for using up all the hot water this morning?" Castiel asked. Ash and Chuck began laughing, and Dean bit his earlobe gently.
"I'm proud of you, baby."
"Thanks. And I won't use Jimmy Novak, I never miss trash day," Castiel promised.
"Nah, it's okay. Just because those two are dickbags about me making up that name, I mean, it would be cool to see it on a book. On your book."
Dean could feel his cheeks heating up, knowing that he was circling around being totally cheesy, and Castiel leaned even closer, whispering in his ear, showing how well they understood each other.
"If I did use it, it's like you're part of it. Like our marriage is always on the front of my books. Like I always get to have you with me."
"Use it," Dean urged, and gulped down the rest of his wine.
"Who's a bit of Scruff? I love a bit of Scruff!" Gabriel greeted the poor dog in the basket, plopping a Santa hat on the unsuspecting hound and rubbing his cheeks playfully. Scruff whined, and ducked his head back down onto his fore-paws. Gabriel turned around and saw Dean, still slumped on the sofa, lost in thought. Gabriel clicked his fingers in front of his brother-in-law a few times, before Dean came out of his stupor, blinking slowly.
"Oh, hey Gabe."
"You didn't cuss me out for my Scruff puns. Everything okay in there, Deano?"
Dean frowned, not really wanting to outpour to his brother-in-law. Castiel had remained in the kitchen with Sam, and Dean had no desire to walk in on them bitching about him. He was stuck dwelling on Charlie Bradbury in any case, on how her mother thought that Dean was doing so much to help her and that he didn't feel he was even coming close. Gabriel crashed down into the seat beside him anyway, and squeezed his knee.
"Talk to me. Cas bothering you about the moving stuff again? I think sometimes he forgets that we're not all fans of his, set to do his bidding."
"Actually, I always enjoy reading his stuff. I get to read the drafts before his agent does. It's not that, not completely." He removed Gabriel's hand from his leg, and found himself confessing everything. "It's this kid, the one we had come to Thanksgiving because her mom was working so hard? I saw the mom at the parent teacher conference."
"Well there's a shocker," Gabriel rolled his eyes. Dean elbowed him.
"Not the point, Gabe. Her mom was so grateful to us, for helping Charlie out, and I don't know, I don't think we've done anything. Nothing that really matters for the kid, they all laugh at her outside class, she eats lunch alone, she goes back to her place to no one. But her mom made it sound like Charlie was always coming over, spending time with Samandriel, you know? And leaving that for New York just seems like the most asshole thing I could do."
Gabriel let out a long, low whistle.
"Maybe it is. But Charlie's going to get to college, right? And then what would be the point in hanging around?"
"Charlie's good enough for a scholarship, for sure. In some ways, she reminds me of Cas when we first met. A little sassier, but quiet. In her own world."
"So, you're hurting real Cas for pseudo-girl-Cas?"
"She's vulnerable."
Gabriel lowered his voice.
"And despite everything, Cas is too. Dean, come on, you're the reason why he was confident enough to go for an agent, the reason why he felt he could help Samandriel when the call came. I know you've been feeling low for a long time, but he's crying out for you right now." Gabriel squeezed his leg again, then patted it. "Start saving the people who matter most, okay?"