"Ow!" Dean cried out for the fifth time in half an hour. He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the tip of his finger.
Castiel paused where he had two ends of a sheet overlapping and stared at Dean's mouth. Inappropriate thoughts hovered at the edge of his mind and he chased them away with thoughts of God.
"You aren't being very successful," he observed. He couldn't believe that Dean so easily agreed to help wrap the presents for the children's party.
"I can't believe that you talked me into this," Dean muttered petulantly, conveniently forgetting that he'd volunteered after Castiel's heavy hinting. "It looks like the only rapping I can do is with song lyrics. Not that I like rap music. At all," he frowned.
"Of course not," Cas told him seriously, an understanding twinkle in his eye. The paper he'd been holding together opened up to reveal a Barbie doll, as he rose from his seat and went to retrieve yet another Band Aid from the first aid box.
"Do you think we should charge Dean for a new box?" Father Reynolds joked.
Castiel huffed a quiet laugh and deliberately ignored the plain beige ones in favour of a girly flowery one. Then it was Father Reynolds turn to laugh.
"Dude, what is that?" Dean asked when he laid eyes on it.
"A Band Aid. Now give me your finger."
Dean shot him a suspicious glare. "What happened to the regular - plain - ones?"
"You're wearing them."
"All of them?"
Castiel opted for the lesser lie of saying nothing, simply grabbing Dean's hand and wrapping the plaster around the tip of his finger. "Perhaps we should join forces," he suggested, looking at the pile of badly wrapped presents on the table in front of Dean.
"Are you saying I suck?"
"I just thought we should make an effort to save your fingers," Cas replied diplomatically.
"Sammy and me used to just cover things with newspaper pages. We didn't have the money to waste on wrapping paper, let alone bows."
Castiel swallowed. The way Dean spoke was so matter-of-fact, and there was no hint of the usual regret he conveyed on the rare occasions he's mention his brother.
"Then we'll make sure that every child gets a bow," he promised.
. * * * .
"Thank you for helping out today," Castiel said some time later, as he shrugged off his coat in their apartment.
"So when's the party?"
"Next week."
"You got a Santa?"
"Yes. Cain, one of the elders from the church, volunteered."
"Cain, huh?" The name wasn't familiar, but it wasn't like Cas mentioned everyone he spoke to at the church.
"He lives outside of town because he likes the quiet," Cas revealed. "He keeps bees."
"Bees?"
"It was his honey you had on your toast this morning."
"Well I'll have to tell him thank you!" Dean grinned. It had been some damn good honey.
"I'll get a start on dinner," Cas said, already heading towards the kitchen.
"If you want I could—"
But the phone interrupted him before he could offer to help.
"Hello? Sam!" he exclaimed, surprised at hearing his brother's voice on the other end of the line. Wasn't he supposed to still be in rehab? "I thought you got home tomorrow?"
"No, today," Sam told him.
Dean must have miscounted the days. He took the phone into the living room and sat down. "Are you doing okay?"
"All things considered," Sam admitted. There was a moment's pause before he said, "Jess told me she called you."
"Would you have told me if she didn't?" Dean snapped. He shouldn't have to hear about his brother's problems secondhand.
There was a longer pause before Sam answered. "Probably not."
"I didn't think so," Dean said bitterly.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry you don't tell me anything?"
"We're not exactly on speaking terms," Sam pointed out.
"You're still my brother!" he shouted.
His voice must have startled Cas, because there was a loud clang as he dropped something metallic in the kitchen.
"I still want to know that you're doing okay!" he hissed. "Is it... Was it because of mom?"
"No," Sam answered, much too quickly before adding, "Kind of."
"Which is it?"
"I don't have to answer to you!" Sam snapped.
"Oh, yes you do!" Dean growled back. "Unless you want me to come out there and kick your ass?"
"Do you even know where I live?" Sam asked quietly, effectively defusing the argument before it got out of control.
"'S not the point," Dean mumbled. Sam and Jess had lived in several apartments over the years before settling down. How was he supposed to keep up when Sam didn't always tell him they'd moved again?
Sam sighed. "There was a party. A... A work thing. We were drinking, I had a few too many, some guys started doing E, and when they asked me I didn't say no."
"E?" Dean asked carefully, because it wasn't as hard as some of the stuff Sam had been on in the past.
"Yeah. I sobered up and checked myself into rehab first thing in the morning. "
"Jess said you'd relapsed, dude! I was thinking—"
"I... I wanted, Dean. I wanted something so bad. And with the 2nd being so close, I was scared."
Dean let out a breath.
"You were worried about me?" Sam asked, a note of hopefulness in his tone.
"Of course I was worried about you! You think I don't worry about you?"
"I worry about you, too."
Neither of them said anything for a while. It had been a long time since they'd shared a moment like this - talking about their lives, and their feelings. Maybe they didn't always have to fight.
"So, uh, have you and Cas got any plans for Christmas?" Sam asked.
"Not really. I haven't exactly done the whole Christmas thing in years."
"Maybe you should," Sam suggested. "I'm sure Cas would want to."
Dean was sure he did as well. "I put up a tree," he told him.
"Well, that's better than nothing. But what about food? Presents?"
"We'll scrape something together. Keep it cheap and cheerful, you know?"
"I could give you—"
"No!" Dean said adamantly, his neck burning. "I don't need you to keep trying to come to the rescue. We can manage."
"I'm sure you can, but it's Christmas."
"I don't care if it's Star Wars Day and George Lucas is in town, I am not taking your money!"
"I'm giving you it," Sam said firmly. "Call it an early Christmas present."
"I don't want it," Dean said childishly. "You're always bailing me out."
"Then stop needing to be bailed out!" Sam snapped. "Grow up and stop drinking your rent money!"
"Screw you!" Dean yelled, hanging up and throwing the phone across the room.
It smashed off the wall and he stared at it where it lay, in pieces, on the floor.
"Fuck."
So much for not always having to fight.
. * * * .
The next day Dean left the garage during his lunch hour to check his bank balance at the ATM round the corner. He looked at the number on the screen, telling him that his brother had indeed transferred the grand sum of $200 into his account. He took his card out of the machine and walked away, trying not to think about how happy Sam had sounded when Dean had told him that he and Cas wanted to do the whole Christmas thing.
Well he wasn't going to touch Sam's money because they could have as good a Christmas as anyone on a budget, thank you very much.
. * * * .
Unfortunately, he quickly realised as his monthly bills came pouring in, refusing Sam's money might be easier said than done.
"Bills, bills, bills," Dean chanted to himself as he flicked through the pile of envelopes: water; electricity; rent. Then he fell silent.
The only sound in the small kitchen was the gurgling of the coffee maker. Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see Dean staring at one envelope, the rest lying forgotten about on the table.
"Dean?" he asked quietly.
Dean didn't answer; just kept staring at the envelope addressed to him as if he was trying to see through it to the contents inside.
Cas moved over to him, and when he rested a hand on Dean's shoulder the other man relaxed minutely at his touch. "What is it?"
"It's, uh," Dean started to say, then cleared his throat. "A while back I was living with this woman, Lisa. We were together, and, ah... She moved away."
"And she writes to you?" Castiel assumed, ignoring the jealousy churning in his stomach.
"No. I mean yeah, occasionally, but... She has a son, Ben. He's a great kid," Dean smiled fondly, and Castiel couldn't help but smile with him. "I thought he might have been mine, 'cause we were together before, but... I don't know."
Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You miss him," he observed.
An empty laugh burst past Dean's lips. "So much, Cas. You've no idea."
"What does he say?" Castiel asked, slipping into the seat next to him.
Dean looked at him, eyes dropping to stare at Castiel's mouth when he couldn't hold his gaze. Castiel licked his lips as his heart beat a little faster, and Dean's eyes tracked the movement. After a moment Dean looked back at the envelope as he turned it over in his hands and tore it open.
He pulled out a Christmas card - a humorous one in which Santa was stuck in a chimney - and chuckled. When he opened it a folded letter fell out, and he passed the card to Cas.
Cas smiled at the humor, but didn't read the message inside. It was none of his business. The coffee machine had finished so he poured Dean a mug of coffee and put it down in front of him, but Dean was too engrossed in Ben's words to notice. He took the card through to the living room and displayed it next to the TV.
It looked lonely and a little pathetic sitting on its own.
He sat down on the sofa and stared at it, picturing several more standing around the TV.
"I'm going out!" he called through to Dean decidedly, as he retrieved his coat and wallet.
"Thought we were going to the supermarket?"
"Later - I need to do something first!"
"Alright."
Castiel popped his head into the kitchen on his way past. "Will you still be here when I get back?"
"Hmm."
Castiel took that as a yes. "I won't be long."
He all but ran down the stairs. It would take him just over twenty minutes to walk into the town - less if he walked briskly - and he hoped to be back within the hour. He passed the play park at the bottom of the street which sat empty; the day too cold for parents to want to sit and watch as their children ran around.
Considering how reluctant Dean had been to celebrate Thanksgiving, Cas had doubted very much that his friend would get into the so-called 'spirit of Christmas'. But perhaps he'd been wrong. After all, he had bought and decorated a tree for their small apartment. Almost tripping over his feet, he came to a faltering halt as his eyes were drawn to a ground floor apartment with windows framed by fairy lights. There was something about Christmas lights, whether in people's windows or the shopping mall, that made him happy.
He shivered as the wind picked up, and started walking again. Maybe he should have borrowed one of Dean's jackets. He needed to buy a warmer one for himself, he decided, quickening his pace as he neared his destination. The hot blast of air from the overhead heater was a relief as he stepped into the card shop.
It was a small and cramped shop on the best of days, but with the busy festive period bringing more shoppers out more often it was positively claustrophobic. He looked around at the sections, seeing Christmas cards for mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters, sending a pang of remorse coursing through him.
"Excuse me," he said, squeezing past a couple of teenage girls as he spotted the section for friends.
. * * * .
Dean stared at the blank pad of paper, several sheets crumpled up and tossed in front of him. A floorboard in the corridor creaked, announcing Castiel's return. He was uncomfortably aware of Castiel just being there, like his conscious passing judgement on what a shit excuse he was for being the closest thing Ben had to a father figure.
"I don't know what to say," he said defeatedly when he realised that Castiel wasn't going to say anything. "I never do. Ben sends me these letters about soccer tournaments and school prizes and I just send him a card - Christmas, birthday, Easter..." He trailed off, feeling guilty at how much time he'd wasted. The past few years were just a blur in his mind; a drunken haze of cars and women. The reason he never knew what to say was because he'd never done anything worthwhile, and he was never going to get those years back.
"It's not like you have nothing to tell him," Castiel interrupted his thoughts conversationally.
"No offence, Cas, but I think he'd get bored if I wrote him a letter telling him all about the guy who moved in with me," Dean said lightly.
"I didn't mean me," Castiel chided him gently. "What did we see on Saturday?"
"What do you mean, 'what did we see'?" Dean echoed sceptically. "We only went to the mall."
"And what did they have at the mall?" Castiel pushed patiently.
"Shops?"
"At Santa's Grotto..."
Dean had no idea where Cas was going with this. "Elves?"
"That you spent twenty minutes feeding with carrots..." Castiel prompted, smiling fondly at the memory of Dean being more excited than some of the children.
"Oh," Dean said when he realised what Cas was referring to. It took him a moment longer to realise that Cas meant for him to tell Ben about it. "Oh!" Then he frowned. Ben was, what? Twelve? Thirteen? Even fourteen? God, he couldn't even remember how old his might-be kid was, he thought, rubbing his face with his hands. He tried to remember what he'd been into at that age, but it was mostly looking after Sam and cleaning up after their dad's latest bender. "D'you think he'd want to hear about that?"
"Given the crowds of children gathered round the reindeer I'd say yes."
Cas was looking at him with the patience of a kindergarten teacher explaining (for the hundredth time) why you need to put your hand up and wait instead of just shouting out. Castiel's level of patience for his bullshit never ceased to amaze him because, coming from anyone else, it would probably sound patronising. His pen hovered over the page, but he still wasn't convinced.
"I think he'd have loved to be there with you," Castiel hinted heavily.
Ben, Dean scrawled, wondering if he was supposed to put a 'Dear' before his name. He licked his lips in concentration as he tried to put Cas's suggestions into his own words. You'll never guess what I saw at the mall on Saturday. (Well you might, because it's Christmas.) They had reindeer! Actual reindeer! I'd never seen one before - my dad never really went in for all that Christmas stuff. Dean paused, contemplating striking through that last line before smiling at a memory which they shared. Reminds me of the time me and your mom took you to that crappy grotto, and they had donkeys with antler headbands to make them look like reindeer.
He was so busy scribbling words onto the page that he didn't notice when Cas left the room again.
