Sam is patient, okay? He's really patient and understanding and always gives his blockhead, emotionally constipated brother the space he won't admit he needs, choosing to be a supportive figure in the background instead of getting involved in hopes that Dean will figure things out himself.
But it's been years—years—since Sam realized what a big, fat, stupid crush his idiot brother had on his own personal angel—the angel that had literally given up everything, time and again, for Dean. A part of Sam always sort of knew Castiel obviously was also in love with Dean, but he was under the impression angels weren't allowed to be with humans or something. Turns out while they're sort of not supposed to be, no one really listened. No, Castiel is just apparently more patient than Sam himself and is probably also afraid Dean will hate him forever or something if he makes a move.
Naturally, Dean is entirely unaware, but he so obviously likes Castiel back and probably has around the time the angel died for him the first time. But Dean is too chicken to try anything, too, so they're both in this awful stalemate of silently pining and disgusting eyesex that Sam really shouldn't have been forced to endure for as long as he's had to.
So he decides to do something about it. It's a week and a half before Christmas, so what better gift could he possibly get for his brother and best friend alike than to finally help them get together?
Operation: For Dean: initiated.
Phase 1: Spending Time Together
His first idea is to trap them together in a shopping mall. He'd not-so-subtly declared that he wanted to celebrate Christmas this year, and eventually got Dean on board; Castiel, naturally, is always on board with pretty much anything the Winchesters want, even to his own destruction...which is kind of depressing, actually…
But he waits until Castiel is staying with them for the day before all but demanding Dean drive to the mall so he could pick 'some things' up. Dean raises an eyebrow, but just calls him a girl and complies. (Sam suspects Dean thinks he's just trying to get him a present or something and needs to pick out something nice—Dean's never this compliant over something so non-monster related unless it benefits him—and Sam does nothing to quell those thoughts.)
He hangs around Dean and Castiel for about ten minutes before shooting off to watch them from afar under the ruse of shopping for fancy shampoo they only sell in a few stores across the country. He loses sight of the pair embarrassingly quickly when he starts reading the ingredients in a shampoo/conditioner mix that apparently prevented long hair from frizzing in even the most humid temperatures.
He meets back up with them an hour and four shopping bags later after he realizes trying to find them in the crowded store is hopeless. As far as he can tell, Castiel stayed with Dean the whole time, and Dean himself apparently also did some shopping because he has two bags of his own. However, they don't appear to be any closer than they were before, so Sam doesn't exactly count the sort-of-date as a win. It's not entirely a loss either, though, because they apparently now have an inside joke involving envelopes and hair brushes that actually gets Castiel to smile a little even after Dean kills the joke and repeats it every time either item is in sight.
Dean bitches at him about all the bags he got that Sam refuses to tell him the contents of, but eventually does shove them into the trunk, because nothing shows a big brother cares like being a jerk but helping out anyway.
The entire drive back to the Bunker is filled with Castiel asking weird questions about Christmas, because angels apparently don't celebrate one brother's birthday that also might not be his actual birthday because Castiel tells them he's been told Jesus wasn't even born in December. Dean answers most of them sometime after Sam gives 'nerd answers' relating to the importance of Christmas trees stemming from pagan traditions, and Sam just smirks to himself as he looks out the window.
Phase 1 is a success.
Phase 2: Movies and Couch Cuddles
He decides to try cheesy Christmas movies, complete with hot chocolate and those tiny marshmallows Dean would never admit to liking and ugly sweaters he'd picked up at the store. He found this amazing one with a sheep on it that says 'Fleece Navidad' that was supposed to go to Dean, because he's unfortunately very aware of what his brother likes in weird pornos ( seriously why couldn't he clear his damn history) and wanted to tease him a bit, but Castiel's big blue eyes lit up with the same entrancement a child might have upon seeing a puppy for the first time when he presented it, so the angel ended up getting it instead. Sam's pretty sure no one is heartless enough to deprive Cas of anything once he whips out the puppy dog eyes (the ones Sam had taught him purely to overpower his brother, though he'll completely deny it).
"Really, Sam? Stop motion Rudolph?" Dean asks incredulously when Sam loads the movie.
"It's a classic movie, Dean. And Cas has never seen it," he argues, stepping into the kitchen as Dean settles nearly in the middle of the couch—his silent way of telling Sam he's not in the mood to sit beside him.
He'll be moving soon enough, Sam thinks to himself with a grin he can't quite hide.
Castiel is hunched over the kitchen counter with his 'Fleece Navidad' sweater pulled over his trench coat (they'd tried to tell Castiel that the coat is supposed to be worn over everything else, but he just said then he couldn't see the sheep as well and they let it drop instead of saying that he could just take the trench coat off, because that's never going to happen—Sam swears sometimes it's like he's fused to the thing), making sure to count out exactly 13 tiny marshmallows (why that number specifically, Sam has no idea. Maybe he likes how intimidating the prime number is) and place them in each of the three mugs.
"Thanks, Cas," Sam says when the angel is finished, taking his own moose mug. "Can you take that in to Dean?"
He hardly even has to ask, but the 'of course' he gets in reply is still nice. He watches as Castiel carefully carries the two mugs into the room they've unofficially dubbed the living room, and steps ahead of him to claim the one armchair in the room, smiling into his own mug as Dean takes the Batman mug from Castiel and wordlessly moves a little on the couch so the angel can sit beside him with his own mug (it says 'bee mine' with a little bee on it; Dean got it for him after some hunt in Missouri and said it was on sale when it was, in fact, totally not).
By the end of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Castiel and Dean's thighs are pressed together and their mugs are empty. By the end of Frosty the Snowman, their arms are touching. By the end of Santa Claus is Coming to Town (one that Sam has admittedly never liked because Burgermeister Meisterburger was such a piece of work), Castiel is asleep with his head on Dean's shoulder, and Dean's head is on top of Castiel's. Sam swears they're holding hands.
He thinks he has a new favorite movie. Phase 2 is a success.
Phase 3: Making Memories
Sam decides what they're missing is a Christmas tree, so he goes out in one of the non-Impala cars from the Bunker's garage without telling Dean (so he couldn't reject the idea) or Castiel (so he couldn't tell Dean without knowing Dean wouldn't approve, because for a guy who's been around for billions of years, the angel is a pitifully bad liar) and heads out.
An hour and a half later, he's driving back with a nice sixish foot tall pine tree strapped to the roof of the car and a bag of bacon cheeseburgers for bribery purposes, because Sam would rather keep his head attached to his shoulders this holiday season if he can help it.
Dean is predictably pissed off when Sam hauls the tree through the door, and even the peace offering he's brought is testing Dean's will. Sam's saving grace is when Castiel peeks the corner and, curiosity visible even when Sam has at least eight branches jabbing him in his face, offers to help Sam carry the tree.
Once Castiel is on board, Dean doesn't have a chance and actually goes to help carry it down, too. Dean grumbles the entire time, and almost picks the tree up himself to throw it at Sam's head when Sam carries in a tray of ornaments, an innocent smile plastered on his face that probably only pisses Dean off more. Castiel once again rescues the entire plan when his eyes light up and he starts pouring on questions about the ornaments and their purpose.
Twenty minutes later, Sam has managed to get Christmas music to play in the background on the stereo typically used to play Led Zeppelin, and Dean is humming along as he and Castiel leisurely decorate the tree Dean keeps saying he hates. (He's like the dad that hates the dog and then becomes its best friend, honestly.)
Sam smirks to himself as he slowly sips his mug of coffee, observing the scene. Dean and Castiel work around each other easily in a way that almost resembles an intricate yet intimate dance. It's effortless, the way they seamlessly reach around each other to hang things and accidentally mirror their sides of the tree like they've been doing it for years. And they wonder why people always assume they're basically married...
"Hey, Gigantor. Get in here and put the angel on top," Dean calls over his shoulder.
"Dean, is it customary to place an unrealistic representation of an angel on top of a coniferous tree?" Castiel asks seriously, looking concerned.
Dean laughs and places a hand on his upper back that ends up staying there for the next five minutes.
Phase 3 is a success (especially when Sam trudges back into the living room the next day to see someone had replaced the 'unrealistic representation of an angel' with a Polaroid photograph of Castiel that Dean had managed to snap on one of the extremely rare occasions he got the angel to smile—that big, awkward, gummy smile Sam has only personally seen a handful of times, mainly because it's almost always directed at Dean). Yes, phase 3 is a huge success.
Phase 4: Show Interest is Mutual
If Dean was upset about the tree, he's seconds from strangling Sam when he finally notices that Sam has hung a big bundle of mistletoe above the doorway to the Bunker's kitchen. And the doorway to the makeshift living room. And the doorway to Dean's room. (Really, Dean should just be thankful Sam had forgone hanging one in the bathroom doorway…)
"What the hell is this?" Dean says without preamble a few hours after Sam went on his decorating spree, barging into the kitchen as Sam prepares himself a salad for lunch.
Sam glances up quickly to confirm that he's not holding the mistletoe that's attached to the kitchen's doorway before asking tiredly, "What do you think it is, Dean?"
Dean's face flushes a little, but he pushes forward. "I think it's you being weird and setting up traps around my own house. You lookin' to get caught under it?"
Sam raises an eyebrow. "Are you?"
Dean doesn't answer, because Castiel chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen's doorway beside Dean to stare at him. Dean returns the gaze, initiating another round of eyesex.
Finally, Castiel asks, "I heard shouting. Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, yeah, Sam's just being a little bitch," Dean answers, and Sam rolls his eyes.
"At least I'm not the one under the mistletoe."
At his words, his brother's head snaps up, causing Castiel to also glance up. "What is this hanging foliage? Is this another decoration like the ring with pinecones?"
"It's nothing, Cas," Dean denies quickly, and Sam's pretty sure he'd be running from the situation if Castiel wasn't standing behind him and Sam wasn't in front of him.
"It's called mistletoe," Sam explains. "There's a human tradition for it."
Castiel's eyes light up as he predictably falls for the trap, just like he always does when offered information about anything related to humanity. "What is it?" he asks, eyes big and earnest and innocent.
A quick glance at Dean confirms he's waiting for the floor to swallow him up, face red enough to be confused for severe sunburn. Typical.
"When two people get under the mistletoe together, they kiss."
Castiel tilts his head. "What an odd tradition," he remarks. "It's reminiscent of the times where most cultures would send their children off to be married without their input to improve relations between territories."
Sam pulls a face without entirely meaning to, pursing his lips. "I didn't think of it like that."
"Is that your way of sayin' you don't wanna lay one on me?" Dean asks, chuckling self-consciously.
"I didn't say that. I was merely pointing out the obligation that seems to follow this tradition," Castiel says, frowning to himself. Then, after a moment of visible hesitation, the angel leans in and lays the chastest kiss in the history of kisses on Dean's cheek, like he's afraid to remain for over 0.2 milliseconds.
Dean practically implodes as Castiel just slips into the kitchen and retrieves his 'bee mine' mug and Dean's Batman one, humming one of Dean's crappy cassette tape songs quietly to himself as if he hadn't just been single-handedly responsible for Dean's recent spontaneous combustion. The angel pours coffee into each mug and passes one to Dean on his way out.
After several minutes of just staring into his mug, Dean finally expresses, "What the hell was that?"
"I think he's classifying that as a kiss," Sam hums, hiding his smirk behind his hand. Dean gets a funny look on his face and scowls into the general direction that Castiel had just disappeared in. When he starts muttering to himself, Sam clears his throat and says, "Hey, you might wanna move. I wanna go in the library."
"Should've thought about that before you hung these damn weeds in every other doorway." Despite his words and bitchface (which Dean denies ever making, because in his mind, Sam is the only one that ever makes bitchfaces), he does step aside to sulk over his coffee mug somewhere else.
Sam's...not entirely sure if this is a success. While they did sort of kiss, it was far too platonic and had far too little reciprocation, not to mention it only lasted like two seconds.
Phase 5: Edible Bribery
Sam's next idea goes down a lot better with Dean. He brings home a bunch of baking ingredients and a small package of cookie cutters that feature an obese gingerbread man, a snowman that looks far too much like a dick for anyone's good, a bell that might actually be a tree, a weird snowflake, and a surprisingly normal star.
"We're making cookies," Sam announces before Dean can even open his mouth, setting everything on the counter in the Bunker's kitchen and carefully sidestepping the mistletoe when Dean stops in the doorway to frown at him.
"Why can't we just buy them?"
"You'll take away all the Christmas cheer, Dean," Sam says, watching with a barely-contained smile as Castiel peeks in the doorway.
"Yes, Dean. You'll take away all of the Christmas cheer," the angel parrots, taking a second to place an endearingly sweet yet far too brief kiss on Dean's suddenly-red cheek before stepping into the kitchen. As Sam pulls out a mixing bowl, Castiel picks up one of the cookie cutters—the dick snowman one—and tilts it in various directions along with his head, as if that will help him figure out what it is. Finally, he asks, "What is the purpose of this shape?"
"That's a cookie cutter, Cas," Dean tells him, finally having recovered from his shock enough to enter the kitchen. Surprisingly, he steps directly behind Castiel, hooking his chin over the angel's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist. It's so domestic and unlike anything Sam was expecting, leaving him to silently gape at them from afar. But Dean just ignores his sputtering and continues calmly, "You press it into cookie dough and it makes them into shapes."
"I see."
Sam decides to leave the room as Dean steps away from Castiel just enough to start throwing the ingredients in the mixing bowl, explaining the process to a dutiful Castiel as he goes.
An hour later, Sam comes out of his room and follows his nose to the kitchen. He's met with a disaster of flour everywhere and Dean and Castiel hovering over the stove, apparently arguing over which color the bells/trees to be. There's even more flour on both of them that goes up past their waists and onto their shirts, and Castiel took off his trench coat and suit jacket at some point and rolled the sleeves on his shirt up to his elbows—just like Dean.
"Dean, that's a tree. Just like the one in the other room."
"Have you lost your feathery marbles? It's obviously a bell," Dean says. He seems to realize Sam is there, leaning against the kitchen door frame, because he turns around and takes a step back, away from Castiel. "Quit waiting for someone to plant one on you and get over here, Sasquatch," he snaps, which Sam does with an eye roll. "C'mon, is that a bell or a tree?"
Sam sighs. "I don't know, Dean. Why don't you just use red frosting or something?"
"The color makes no difference to me," Castiel says. "I can't even perceive it as humans can. I would just like Dean to admit that the shape is meant to represent a tree."
Dean pauses from where he's waving the icing tube around in apparent exasperation. "You...what?"
"I would like you to admit—"
"Not that."
"Oh. I perceive colors differently than humans," he recounts. "I thought it was because I'm an angel, but it persisted even after I lost my grace for a time. …though, that may be because I was an angel before."
"So, what, you're saying you're colorblind or something?" Dean asks.
Castiel narrows his eyes in consideration. "I suppose you can think of it like that. I-I can see red, and a multitude of greys. Any other color would be frivolous and unimportant to a creature created to protect and fight."
"I...guess," Dean allows with a deep frown.
"That's really cool, Cas. I never even realized," Sam says, wondering just how many other things they didn't know about their best friend.
Castiel just smiles softly at him, like he knows what Sam's thinking and is trying to ease his mind. "I don't mind, Sam. It doesn't really bother me." He turns his head to shoot Dean a meaningful glare. "I do mind Dean falsely identifying this cookie shape as a bell, however."
Dean sticks his tongue out at the angel and, instead of admitting defeat, ices the bell/tree blue. Castiel doesn't mention it, and Sam wonders what color the angel thinks Dean made it. It's...disconcerting to realize someone you've known for so many years had such a huge thing that they didn't think to tell you, but he knows Castiel is a little lost in human intricacies on a good day and that he didn't mean anything by not telling them about it. It probably hadn't even occurred to him that they might want to know that, since it isn't really beneficial for them to know about, not like his healing ability or something is…
Twenty minutes later, they're eating cookies instead of dinner. The best of all the cookies ends up being the dick-shaped snowmen because they're the only ones that ended up being cooked all the way through. The second best are the bell/trees, despite all the petty arguments, because the icing went on so nicely and evenly. The obese gingerbread men are in third, but only because so many of them lost their brittle little arms somewhere between the baking and icing processes.
The snowflakes are a total lost cause; the little ends of the flakes are crispy and burnt and more than half of the endings are visibly glued to the cookie sheet that Sam's dreading cleaning later (unless he dumps the duty on Dean; after Castiel decided the best way to wash dishes is to pressure wash them outside and send them flying halfway across the earth, they decide he's never going to be on kitchen duty ever. They'd lost four plates, three cups, and a roaster before they finally watched an excited Castiel show them his amazing new dish-washing technique and immediately came to their senses).
There aren't any star-shaped cookies, and Sam later discovers the cookie cutter wedged underneath the oven, like someone had kicked it. Sam's not even going to ask about that one, afraid for his sanity.
Either way, the three of them have full bellies and are content. When Sam suggests they watch a Christmas movie (A Charlie Brown Christmas, because that's one of Sam's favorites that he'll never admit to liking, and Castiel has never seen it, anyway), Dean doesn't even complain, especially not when Castiel sits (a generous term, considering he's curled into a ball and is more nuzzling Dean's chest than anything) beside Dean again and dozes off against his shoulder. Sam takes half a dozen pictures from various angles, and Dean can't even yell at him because he's dozed off against Castiel, too.
Phase 5 is a definite success.
Phase 6: Jealousy
Christmas is in three days, and Dean and Castiel are still pretending they're not in love. It's almost sickening. But Sam resolves to change that with his next phase: make Dean jealous (he's not even going to try making Castiel jealous, because that'd be like picking one pair of socks over another and expecting them to burst into tears because they weren't chosen. No, Dean's much easier to make jealous, which Sam unfortunately knows from experience).
He convinces Dean to let him drive the Impala for once and takes the three of them to a restaurant he'd discovered that has incredibly flirtatious waitresses. Sam's not sure if this is intentional, or if the restaurant just accidentally picked out an entire staff of flirts.
Either way, Dean doesn't even comment when they step inside, and Sam wonders if he'd ever been here before. Dean slides into one of the booths and immediately starts looking over the menu on the table as Castiel sits in the other booth. After a moment's consideration, Sam sits beside Dean.
The waitress comes over and, predictably, hovers all over them. "What can I get you?"
"Burger and fries."
"Egg white omelet."
"I'll...also have a burger and fries," Castiel says when the waitress turns to him.
"Good choice," she says lowly, purposefully dropping her pen in Castiel's lap just so she could reach down and grope him. Sam winces in sympathy, because they've never been that touchy-feely before with him, and feels bad for even considering this as any sort of a plan when he sees the pale, horrified look on the angel's face. But Sam doesn't say anything.
Dean, on the other hand, snaps, "Get your damn hands off him." The waitress rolls her eyes and stomps back to the kitchen. "What kind of a diner is this? The waitresses act like this is some low-budget porno."
Sam sighs to himself. "I don't know, Dean. Why don't you ask her?"
When the waitress returns, now with their food, Dean's glare is so intense that she looks taken aback for a second and fumbles with the plate. But she doesn't try anything else.
The rest of the meal is uneventful (though Sam is briefly amused when he sees Castiel wordlessly and almost thoughtlessly pass Dean his full plate once Dean finishes his own) up until the waitress has to come back to take their plates and give them their check, in which Dean glares holes into the side of her head. Castiel, of course, doesn't seem to realize.
After the restaurant, they head to a bar to relax a little, which accidentally gives Dean another chance to get nice and jealous.
Dean had long since separated from Sam and Castiel, with the former regretting the outing at all and the latter staring into his still-full beer. Sam is incredibly surprised when a woman comes up to their table to take Dean's vacated seat.
"Hey, need some company?"
Sam smirks behind his beer and leans back a little, trying to silently tell her he's not personally interested.
"That's Dean's chair," Castiel states after a moment of staring at the seat, like the woman will disappear if he stares intensely enough.
"Well, looks like your pal left. Wouldn't you rather have my company instead, anyway?" she asks with an easy smile. Sam rolls his eyes. She's not even trying.
"Not particularly."
Sam nearly spits out his beer. Castiel is normally a little more subtle than that…maybe he really did get drunk just off of staring into his beer.
"Well...I'm Cammy," she says anyway.
"Castiel."
"That's a funny name." Castiel just frowns down at the table. Cammy decides to tilt her chair to face Castiel better, scooting closer to him. "So...what do you say we get outta here?"
"No thank you," the angel replies calmly, politely. "I'm content to sit here quietly until Dean is done socializing. Would you like to wait, as well?"
As Cammy sputters to herself in surprise (is she doing this on a dare or is she really just this bad at picking people up?), Sam's eyes search out Dean. He finds him chatting up the bartender, who is presumably laughing at something he'd said, but Dean's eyes couldn't be any less focused on her. No, Dean's eyes are glued to the impassive Castiel.
Just then, Cammy decides to lean forward to run a hand through Castiel's hair. The angel doesn't react beyond a confused and vaguely annoyed look, but Dean sure reacts. Dean practically storms up to their table and sets his beer down with enough force to rattle the napkin holder. Jesus.
"Is this seat taken?" Dean asks Cammy without looking at her, eyes still fixed solely on Castiel.
"Yes," she snaps.
"Can we leave?" Castiel asks before Dean can start arguing with her or demanding she leave.
Dean seems surprised for only a second before he throws back his beer. "Sure. The beer blows here, anyway."
Sam rolls his eyes and follows Dean out, but he can't imagine Dean knows this with his eyes following Castiel's every movement. His brother is so obvious sometimes…
Either way, Sam declares phase 6 to be a reluctant success. Not because it went well, but because Dean was actually jealous.
Phase 7: Snow Day
Since his best phases have been his simplest ones, Sam decides to go back to the basics and just force them to spend time together. It had just snowed the night before (white Christmas!), and Sam decides it's time to spend some time in the snow.
Sam steps into the kitchen with a yawn to start making the coffee, only to find Castiel already at the coffeemaker, staring into the pot like it holds the answers to the questions of the universe—like where his other black and orange striped sock went when it disappeared three days ago or when Dean and Castiel will finally realize the obvious.
"Uh, hey," he greets.
"The unyielding trust people place in machines never ceases to amaze me," Castiel says as he watches the liquid dripping through the filter of the coffeemaker, gaze steady and unfaltering, unblinking. It's…kind of creepy…
"Yeah, it's pretty amazing," Sam allows with a chuckle. "Hey, Cas, did you see that it snowed last night?"
"Yes, I noticed that. Though I doubt it will remain until tomorrow, given the recent weather patterns in the area," he replies without taking his eyes off the coffeemaker.
Sam tries not to let his disappointment show when he comes up with an idea. "I guess we should just enjoy the snow while it's here, then."
"Dean doesn't like the snow. He says it makes his joints ache."
Sam blinks in surprise. "He told you that?" The angel just nods wordlessly without even looking at him, and that's even more surprising; Dean's been denying seasonal joint pain for the last decade every time Sam asked him about it and he just...tells Castiel that? "Well...we can still shovel a pathway leading up to the door," he suggests. "Never know when we'll need to go out in a hurry."
Castiel nods solemnly, so Sam sets out to find where they'd buried the snow shovels they'd been forced to buy last winter when they had nearly been snowed in with how much snow had blocked the Bunker's door. By the time Sam actually does find them, Dean is slumped over the kitchen table, likely with a slight hangover.
His possible hangover doesn't last long, however, as Castiel taps two fingers to his forehead when he leans over Dean to hand him his coffee. Castiel, of course, only heals Sam's (occasional, because moderation ) hangovers when he directly asks the angel to.
"What's this? My early Christmas present?" Dean asks with a small, soft smile that Sam's never personally seen before. Loving.
Castiel murmurs something in reply that Sam can't hear, but it makes Dean laugh. Sam smiles to himself, but steps into the kitchen, because the domestic atmosphere be damned, he wants his breakfast.
"You planning on shoveling snow, Sammy?" Dean asks when he notices the shovels Sam had propped against the wall.
"Something like that."
"Hope you don't expect me to help," he says.
"Nah, Cas is gonna help." He shrugs and grins at the stunned look on Dean's face. "Only two shovels."
Predictably, Dean does end up following them out, though he doesn't actually pitch in with the shoveling. No, instead of moving even a square inch of snow, Dean just hovers behind them and tells them when they miss an area. Castiel doesn't seem to mind, but Sam's getting annoyed.
Annoyed enough that the next time Dean unhelpfully yells, "Missed a spot!" Sam chucks a big chunk of snow right at Dean's face. The snow is far too powdery to make any proper snowballs with, but some of it does cling together long enough to dust Dean's boots and some of his shirt.
So Sam accidentally starts a snowball fight that mostly consists of Sam and Dean dumping powdery snow down the backs of each others' many layers of flannel and Castiel actually trying to shovel out a path (until someone hit him with a powdery snowball, that is—then he decides to demolish Sam and Dean in their snowball fight and show them how a warrior of God holds their own). Twenty minutes and three layers of damp flannel later, they're heading back instead for some hot chocolate.
They watch Die Hard that evening, because Dean insists it's a Christmas movie even though it's totally not. Castiel and Dean are delightfully close on the couch, but in some strange turn of events, Sam ends up falling asleep, instead.
By the time he wakes up, he's pretty sure his neck is trying to fuse into a permanent 90 degree angle. The TV is still on and is demanding they pick something else to put on, but the soft lighting does perfectly illuminate a cozy-looking Dean and Castiel laying on each others' heads, apparently asleep.
He supposes phase 7 is an accidental success, but recognizes he really needs to pick up some slack.
Phase 8: Gifts
It's Christmas Eve night, and they're still not together even after the dinner Sam had tried to make as romantic as possible. Sam is running out of ideas, but does have one more massive trick. They don't watch a movie that night because Sam actually needs Castiel to stay awake (he's not sure why the angel has started sleeping or if that's always a thing he did, but Dean certainly seems to like it well enough).
After Dean finally goes to bed at four in the morning (well, Sam had fallen asleep in the chair, so he might have gone earlier than that), Sam starts to set his plan in motion. He grabs a big red ribbon he'd bought the other week and a large tag, quickly writing a simple 'to: Dean, from: Santa'. The huge box is more annoying to get out, but he manages to haul the thing out to the living room and wrap it up in a way that allows the lid to be detachable.
Finally, when the large box is covered in green wrapping paper with a red bow on it, Sam goes to get Castiel. He knocks on the door to Castiel's room, and the angel answers quickly.
"Hello, Sam," he greets. "It's almost six in the morning. Have you been up for a long time?"
"Uh, yeah, kinda," Sam replies with a brief smile. "Hey, could you help me with something? It's for Dean."
If there was any hesitation, it disappears when Sam tells him it's for Dean and Castiel wordlessly follows him to the living room. He pauses when he sees the large box, open and empty.
"I don't understand," the angel states with a soft frown.
"I wanted to give Dean what he wants most," he explains quietly. Pausing for effect, he adds, "That's you."
"It can't be," Castiel says, looking distressed and confused. "Surely, there are…"
"It is, Cas, trust me. Could you get in the box?" Castiel frowns more deeply, but carefully steps inside. "Hold still," Sam says as he ties a large ribbon loosely around the angel's neck. Castiel stays completely still the whole time until Sam is finished. "There. Not too tight?"
"It's fine…" Castiel looks down curiously at his own neck. "Are you sure this is what he truly wants?" he asks softly yet anxiously, like he can't even fathom the idea that Dean might like him back, much less say it aloud.
"It is," Sam confirms. "Sit down?"
Castiel sits down in the box, and Sam is pleased to find he'd picked a tall enough box that the angel doesn't have to scrunch up or curl into a ball. Trying to ignore the big, trusting (and unnerving) eyes focused solely on him, Sam carefully closes the box and finishes the bow to lightly tie it shut.
"You can still breathe in there, right?"
"I don't require oxygen, Sam," Castiel tells him, slightly muffled from the box.
"You won't be in there long. Just a few more minutes, okay?"
"Okay."
Sam rushes to get the rest of his smaller presents out and put those under the tree. He pushes the large box in the general direction of the tree, but doesn't even try forcing it underneath.
"Sam," comes Castiel's oddly distressed voice when Sam comes back in the room with his other gifts. "I do not like being in a box."
"It's okay, Cas, almost done. Then I'll go get Dean up and we'll open presents, okay?"
"Okay…" It's silent for a long moment before Castiel asks, "Was I supposed to get gifts? No one told me to…"
"It's fine. This'll be a present for everybody. Believe me."
"Okay."
Sam then rushes down the hall to wake up Dean. Dean is so groggy that he throws the gun he keeps at his bedside at Sam's head instead of his pillow, but Sam is eventually able to drag him into the living room.
"It's too early for this, Sam," Dean gripes for the third time since he left his bed. "Let's just do this in an hour or six…" He suddenly stops short upon seeing the massive box. "That a TV? I bet it's a TV. Nothing else goes in a box that big."
Sam just smirks to himself. "Why don't you open it and see?"
"Nah, gotta wait for Cas. Can't start without him."
"I don't think he'd mind," Sam tries carefully. "He might be out getting breakfast or something. Just open it. Maybe we can set it up and watch something later."
Dean frowns, but shrugs. "If Cas is pissed, I'm blaming you," he warns as he goes over to the large box, and Sam just rolls his eyes.
Dean pulls out an actual knife (Sam has a panic attack for a second when he envisions his brother carelessly plunging the knife into the box—into Cas) and uses it to cut through the ribbon, because he apparently thinks that takes less effort than simply pulling one of the bow's tails and watching it all unravel. Sam leans forward in anticipation as Dean grabs the edges of the lid.
"What's with the look? You're freakin' me out, man," Dean says, giving Sam a look that says 'back off' as he lifts the lid off. "Wh…"
"Hello, Dean," Castiel greets calmly, but anyone with functioning ears can hear the nervousness in his tone.
Dean blinks in surprise, but recovers enough to offer Castiel a hand up to help him stand. They stare into each others' eyes in yet another round of gross eyesex, either unaware or uncaring of the fact that they're still holding hands. Both their faces are extremely flushed, but they don't seem unhappy.
"Cas…" Dean looks pleased and maybe a little overwhelmed, but just smiles and says, "Nice bow."
Castiel smiles back, just a little. "Thank you."
"So, you're my present?"
"Unless you'd rather have a TV," the angel replies and—oh no, they're flirting. Sam decides to make himself scarce and go start a pot of coffee.
By the time he comes back in, Dean is shaking one of Sam's smaller gifts and rattling the sensitive pieces inside like a dumbass. Well, it's his fault if anything breaks. Castiel is beside Dean, large red bow still tied loosely around his neck. They're both smiling.
Dean is unrighteously delighted when he finds out Sam actually did get a TV when he'd bought the box. They watched all sorts of terrible action movies Dean adores and pretends are Christmas movies. Dean and Castiel sit right beside each other all night, and at some point, they swap out the coffee for eggnog.
"Happy Christmas," Castiel says with a small smile after a movie ends, because those were the last lines in the movie and now the end credits are playing disgustingly cheesy Christmas music.
Dean rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "It's merry Christmas, Cas."
The angel squints at him, apparently unaware of the arm snaking around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I don't see why the specific word matters, especially considering the two are synonymous. For example, joyous Christmas would also work."
"Yeah, but that sounds weird."
"Everything sounds strange when you're not used to hearing it," the angel points out.
Dean stares at him for a long moment before deciding to say, "Drink your eggnog, Cas."
"There's no purpose in drinking this. It tastes only of slightly peculiar molecules."
"It only tastes weird 'cause you're not used to it," Dean parrots with a huge grin. Castiel shuts up after that and quietly sips his molecules.
Everyone is happy, so Sam supposes phase 8 is a success.
However, though the entire scene is cute, Sam is well-aware that his efforts were apparently in vain. He can't force Dean and Castiel to realize their feelings for each other because, just like in everything else, they have to do that at their own pace. So, even if their pace rivals a sleeping snail moving along a well-salted road in the winter, Sam resolves to let them sort through their nonsense themselves and just offer little nudges in the right direction.
Well, that was the plan, anyway.
Much later that night, Sam unfortunately chooses to get up for a glass of water and stumbles upon Dean pressing Castiel against the doorway to his room—the one Sam had hung mistletoe from days ago. Castiel's arms are slung around his brother's neck and Dean's own are winding around the angel's noticeably trench coat-less waist, both of them liplocked and far too gone to even acknowledge Sam's existence (though Sam doubts they'd do much more than glare at him if he tried to make himself known, anyway).
Well. Turns out phase 4 was a success, after all. That, and the entire operation. Operation: For Dean is officially a success.
Sam will now go and buy some eye bleach as he puts the headphones Dean had wisely got for him this year as a Christmas present. Turns out Sam wasn't the only one plotting this holiday season...
