A/N: Short-ish chapter cos I got bored with this fic for a while and didn't know what to do with it, so when I got a new idea, I cut off this chapter to start a new one… *wiggles eyebrows* Chapter 13 incoming soon.
Twelve
"What are you doing?" Castiel asked Brooke, as she suddenly got down on the ground, in the snow.
"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked, grinning up at him as she flopped onto her back, arms and legs spread in a starfish pattern.
"Oh no," he muttered. "Please don't tell me you're—
She began to close and open her arms and legs.
—"making a… snow angel." Castiel stared down at her with a resigned expression.
"You know, you're the one who should really be doing this," she told him, still grinning.
He sighed. "You're covering your good warm clothes in snow."
"That's part of the fun!"
"Being wet and cold is part of the fun?"
"We can always just go back home."
He grunted in annoyance and continued to stare down at her. "Will you please get up now?"
She sat up and then sprung to her feet, spinning around to look at her results. "Well… it could probably be better," she said. "But this is the first snow angel I've made since I was a kid. I'd say I did pretty well."
Castiel tutted and began wiping the snow off of her back.
"Now you make one," she said.
"Absolutely not."
"But you're an angel. You have to."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not an angel anymore, as I have said many times."
She stared up at him, widening her eyes, and said in a young, innocent voice, "But you'll always be an angel to me."
He stared down at her, eyes smoldering, a half-smile of irritation and amusement on his face.
"Please?" she said.
He closed his eyes, still half-smiling.
"Don't make me start promising naughty things in exchange for this."
His eyes snapped open. "No, we wouldn't want that," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Come on, Cass! It's almost Christmastime! You have to!"
He smiled for real, then, and cupped her face in his hands. "All right. I didn't realize how much you truly wanted me to."
She shrugged. "No telepathy."
He nodded, then sighed dramatically and lay down in the snow beside her own snow angel… and waved his arms and legs for a good ten seconds.
She stepped back as he stood up, putting her mittened hands to her face, and smiled. Side by side lay two snow angels, one slightly bigger than the other. "Perfect," she murmured.
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her.
###
"Caaaaassss!" Brooke called out in a loud, defeated voice as she went through the front door, stomping snow off of her boots before taking them off.
"Brooke?" His voice floated to her from the kitchen, and she heard him shuffling around in there before he came out to see her. "What's wrong?"
She sighed heavily. "Could you just be an angel again for a second? Just… a few minutes?"
He eyed her a little warily, as if afraid she was angry at him, and then took a breath and seemed to stand taller. He petted her hair. "All right. Who would you like me to kill?"
She blinked up at him and laughed, pleasantly surprised that he had guessed her problem so quickly without telepathy. "This guy at work today," she said. "It's supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, right? But everyone is so stressed about last-minute Christmas shopping, I guess. It's mid-November and everyone's freaking out like Christmas is literally tomorrow!" She sighed and buried her face in her hands. "This guy was just… belittling me, and acting like I didn't know what I was talking about after he asked me for my help finding something. And I just… kept picturing you in your full outfit—you know—with the trench coat. And the eyes."
"The eyes?" Castiel asked.
"Yeah. You know, the glowing blue-white eyes?"
"Ah."
"And…" Brooke stepped back, planted her feet, and thrust out one hand in front of her like she was about to use the Force. "I just kept picturing you coming to my defense like this!" She thrust her hand for emphasis. "And then he'd explode. And your trench coat would be all billow-y behind you, and… there'd be like, lightning and stuff."
Castiel ducked his head and smiled. "Well, I'm… glad that imagining me exploding an angry customer helped you. I probably would not have killed him, but I certainly would've scared him a little."
She sighed dreamily, leaning her head against his chest. "I know, and it would've been perfect, and so hot, and that's why I love you."
He chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I know another reason you love me," he said.
She looked at him curiously.
"I made mulled wine."
She gasped in surprise and joy and followed him to the kitchen.
###
Brooke stood in the living room, spinning in a slow circle, her brows drawn together as she tried to decide on something.
"What are you thinking?" Castiel asked, seeing her as he walked in from the bedroom.
"Is it too soon for a Christmas tree?" she replied.
He said nothing for a moment, then: "I-I have no idea. I've never put up a Christmas tree."
"I wonder how expensive a fake plastic one is," she mused, stopping her spinning and studying one corner of the living room. "I assume the bigger it is, the more expensive it is. We could get a tiny one. You're six feet tall, and now I'm picturing you bending down to help me decorate a little five-foot Christmas tree." She laughed.
"A real one might be nicer," he said, coming to stand beside her and wrapping his arms around her.
She lay her head against his chest, still staring at that one corner of the living room. "Yeah, but then you have to get rid of them afterwards, and clean up all the pine needles that fall off, and… If we get a plastic one, we can reuse it every year. Plus, I have no idea how expensive a real tree is, either."
"Hmm."
She looked up at him, widening her eyes to look extra-cute for him. "Do you really, really want a real one?"
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I don't mind either way. Any Christmas tree would be better than none, and I imagine that decorating it will be just as much fun whether it's real or plastic."
"I'll look online for a cheap option," she said.
He nodded.
"At least we won't need to buy an angel for the top of the tree," she added, with a mischievous smile. "We already have one."
He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, but she knew he was doing it just to play along.
"You know what else we need, though?"
"Hmm?"
"Mistletoe."
He'd been eyeing the corner of the living room, but his eyes wandered to her face again. He lifted his chin a little and looked down his nose at her. "I don't believe you need any extra encouragement to kiss me," he said in a low voice.
"Need, no. But it would be fun."
He smiled. "Yes."
…
So, they got a cheap five-foot tall Christmas tree online and bought the decorations for it at a dollar store, along with some other decor items for the rest of the house—a Christmas wreath, some plastic greenery to hang along the mantelpiece, a cute little snowman for the coffee table. And that was basically all they could find because they'd waited too long to go decor shopping for Christmas. But that was okay.
Actually, the biggest thing Brooke had issues with was finding mistletoe, even a fake little bundle. She could order some online, but that seemed like a waste. So, she ended up… improvising…
…
Castiel walked into the house one day after work, grateful to be in the warmth and out of the snow. He took a deep, appreciative breath of whatever Brooke was cooking for dinner and hung up his snow-covered coat and scarf. "Honey, I'm ho-oome!" he called, and smiled to himself. It was still such a strange thing for him to say, something so… normal, in a cliché kind of way.
He didn't hear Brooke answer, but she was probably busy stirring something on the stove, so he went to the kitchen and looked in—
"Stop!" she said, standing in the middle of the kitchen and pointing at him.
He froze, staring at her. "W-What?" he asked, worried now.
Her face split into a grin and the finger she'd been pointing at him went up towards the ceiling above his head.
He looked up. There was what looked like a bunch of mint taped to the archway into the kitchen. He blinked.
"I couldn't find any mistletoe," she said.
He took a breath, smiling, and gazed at her in love and amusement.
"I figured the mint would work well," she continued, coming towards him. "Then when we kiss, it'll be… minty fresh."
Castiel closed his eyes and made what he assumed was a pained expression.
"What?" she demanded, and laughed. "That wasn't funny?" She continued laughing.
"No," he said, shortly. "That was awful."
"Shut up and kiss me under this mint," she said, still laughing.
He did.
###
"Cass, do you think I'm immature?"
Castiel blinked in surprise, looking up from writing in one of his journals. He took a moment to switch his brain back to English instead of Enochian, which was slightly harder than it had been when he'd still been an angel. "What?"
She repeated her question, but did not look at him, instead staring into the fire, gripping her mug of hot chocolate with white knuckles.
"Where is this coming from?" he asked, capping his pen, placing it inside the journal, and closing it.
She sighed heavily, her usual big, dramatic sigh that meant she'd been thinking about this for a long time before speaking to him about it. "I don't know," she said. "I just… I always joke about how I've corrupted you, but… I mean, now I'm starting to wonder if it's not a joke." She glanced at him, then looked away again, and he couldn't tell if that was a blush in her cheeks or if it was the firelight making her face look red. "You always seem… more worldly than me. N-Not that I mind, I just…" Her voice dropped to something barely above a whisper. "I'm always joking about sex like a fourteen year-old boy, and… maybe you wanted to be with someone… who doesn't think sex jokes are quite so funny."
Carefully, he placed his journal on the coffee table, and then pulled her mug of hot chocolate from her hands and placed that, too, on the table. "Brooke," he began, "I'm not sure why you're suddenly worried about this, but… I can assure you that your sense of humor, crass as it may be, does not bother me."
"So, you think it's crass?" she asked, dejectedly.
He took a steadying breath. "Well, yes. Because it is—sometimes." He saw her flinch and quickly went on. "O-Other times, you make intelligent quips and witty remarks. But I like your sense of humor, crass or witty or… whatever it may be. You don't offend me or embarrass me; the sexual nature of a lot of your jokes tend to be directly about me, which I admit is… only ever flattering. Your sex jokes are your way of flirting with me, which you've never stopped doing, even after fifteen years. Somehow, after this long, you still look at me and want to have sex with me on every available surface, and I'm…" He smiled as she finally looked at him. "Please never stop making inappropriate sex jokes… a-as long as they don't jeopardize your job, or anything."
She laughed, then quieted. "You really don't mind?"
"No."
"A-And…" She hesitated.
He hooked a finger under her chin. "Yes?" he asked, and smiled a little.
"You… don't mind how often I want sex?"
He blinked a few times. "Brooke, if I were too tired or not in the mood, I would tell you. Otherwise… Like I said, I'm just grateful that after fifteen years, you still find me attractive at all."
She grinned. "Well, it helps that you de-aged."
"Oh, is that it?" he asked, lightly.
"Yeah. Your wrinkles were sexy, though."
He thought she was joking—maybe she still was, partly—until she reached up and touched the skin at the corner of his eyes.
"You had laugh lines, here. Crow's feet, they're called. I always felt so proud… that I made you smile and laugh so much that you got wrinkles here." Her voice had gone soft, and they were silent together for a moment. She laughed. "Of course, if we're being honest, you probably got them from squinting and glaring so much."
He chuckled and said, "Well, this time, the wrinkles will all be from laughing." And then he turned and captured one of her hands and kissed it.
They kissed for a while, holding one another, and then he returned to journaling, and she sipped the rest of her hot chocolate and gazed down at what he was writing, to practice reading her Enochian.