Dean had opened the box by the time Cas came back into the room, a little hesitant with a feeling he couldn't quite place. Apparently, Dean became impatient during the few minutes Cas had been gone, and unwrapped the only present Cas bought him for Christmas. He didn't know if there was supposed to be any fanfare, or if these gifts were meant to be opened the night before Christmas, but the look on Dean's face made Cas wish he could slip back through the door.
He knew presents were supposed to bring joy. And Dean was- well, just confused.
There was a bunched-up wad of paper sitting on the bed beside Dean, and the tiny box was held open in his fingers, being stared down with a kind of malice. Dean glanced between the gift and Cas, the furrow between his brows not dissolving.
"Is it alright?" Cas asked.
Dean pulled it out the box now and shuffled across the bed sheets, enough to make room for Cas near the foot of the bed. "Um, yeah," was all he answered with. The silver glistened between his thumb and index finger, held under the same kind of inspection as the tiny box had faced before. Cas took the unspoken invitation to sit beside him, and though Dean looked downright worried at what he'd been given, Cas glowed in childlike glee while explaining what'd he brought back to the bunker.
"I thought the silver might be useful against ghouls and the like. There was a small board game shop that made their own figures and carvings. It all seemed very intricate. I also thought this sort of thing would appeal to you more than… socks."
Dean snickered a little at the kind of present he'd mentioned earlier on their shopping trip. But really, nothing could stop his voice from wavering a little as he continued to stare at the silver ring. It was a ring. In a tiny box. From Cas. "Did this… uh… have any specific purpose?" he choked out. He wasn't sure what kind of answer to expect, let alone hope for. Some area of his gut was already fluttering. Dean was pretty sure it meant he was moments away from throwing up.
Cas only looked over at him with innocence, though- their faces just inches apart. "It's for Christmas."
"Oh… kay…" He tore his eyes back to the ring. It wasn't some fake sparkly crap, he knew that much. It seemed well-made, and the flowing letters engraved inside the ring were done to a nerd level of accuracy. But like the ring's inspiration, the engravings were only engraved, and had no ink to highlight the letters. Despite the difficulty in reading them, he'd been staring at them long enough that he was pretty sure he knew what it read.
Cas tried reviving the conversation from its awkward lull. "I wasn't sure what the symbols inside were supposed to represent, but the owners mentioned the Lord of the Rings, so…"
Dean couldn't help the grin that bubbled into his lips. He was glad to hear that the amount of movies he'd subjected the angel to recently hadn't been so overwhelming that none of them made an impression. Of course, they'd already done three marathons of the Lord of the Rings movies by this point, but regardless. It hadn't entirely flown above Cas' notice, and he was happy for it. "Yeah. It's written in Elvish."
"Ah," Cas said, as if he was clearly an idiot for needing Dean to tell him that.
He humoured him with a little extra knowledge. "It's a whole other language Tolkien made for his books. I used to practice it, actually." It suddenly occurred to him that that wasn't a normal thing to do, and Dean silently revoked the thing about nerd-accurate engraving skills.
But Cas, being Cas, only got more interested. "Do you know what it means, then?"
"Uh…" He appreciated the interest, in spite of what the flush in his cheeks might suggest. "It's… some parody about it being the ring that binds two people…."
"O-oh!" A kind of understanding seemed to finally dawn on Cas, and he shuffled back a bit along the covers of the bed.
Dean glanced over, noticing the slightly larger divide between them now. In a moment of complete brain shut-down, he pulled the ring onto his right ring finger, where other rings had sat in previous years before he decided he was done with all that. The weight was solid and comforting, a temperate reminder of old memories his conscious brain couldn't quite resurface. His smile barely diminished, knowing Cas was probably sitting there, now afraid if he'd passed a boundary of some sort. "I really like it though, Cas. Thanks."
Now Cas was the one to smile, small and cute. "I'm glad. … I'm sorry if I ruined your Christmas, earlier. I should have thought about it longer. I just knew I should have gotten you a present, and-"
"Hey, whatever," he said, making sure to keep his voice soft but insistent. He hadn't even processed Cas' apology yet, but when he finally did, the part of him that'd been demanding beer grew suddenly content and quiet. "I think us three actually did pretty great this year." It wasn't a lie, but Cas didn't appear entirely convinced. "Look, you can make it up to me by watching a couple movies. C'mere."
Cas, apparently, didn't register them as the lightheart words they were supposed to be. Dean was tracked with a weary gaze while turning to lie down across the bed on his stomach, facing the TV. It flickered to life with the touch of the remote, which was always somewhere on Dean's nightstand- though it was buried under different things every day. There was still a bit of hesitation on Cas' end until he jerked his head, motioning for Cas to lay down as well. Cas was soon mimicking his position on the bed, though while looking uncomfortable at the way his trench coat bunched up and very conscious of not touching Dean, despite how little room he'd been left to do that. He chuckled at Cas' expense, and seeing the grouch face rising up to the surface, he said, "You can sit if you want."
Cas remained stubborn and just pursed his lips. They shared a gaze for a couple seconds. "This is actually more comfortable than I first imagined," Cas admitted. He didn't think angels had any tells, but Cas was certainly blinking a lot faster, and his eyes were more open as they laid so close together. They lounged on his bed a lot, but Cas was usually only ever perched on the edge of his bed like some uncomfortable portrait subject.
Dean turned back to the TV and shot his right arm out towards it, leaning into the gesture while he hit the menu button. Their shoulders brushed against each other for a moment while Dean leaned. It was hard to tell whether it'd been purposeful or not, but Cas did what he'd intended to do anyways, and rested his head gingerly in his hands, prepped to start firing off questions as soon as the movie began.
They stayed like this for a couple movies. Cas always struggled to stay silent for the first while of a movie, until Dean noticed he was dying to ask something and told him he'd better spit it out before the adorably sour look on his face got any more distracting. However, he hadn't become aware until halfway through the second movie that Cas' questions were petering out. But if Dean was being honest, his own brain was fogging over from the day's earlier bouts of drinks, and the unusual excitement of celebrating some sort of holiday. They were both nodding off before they realized it.