Christmas Day…
It was way too early when Dean woke up. Not immediately after he opened his eyes, did he realize what day it was, or the reason why he was not exactly in his room. Shifting on the bed, attempting to stretch out his limbs, Dean gathered another piece of information.
A light weight rested on Dean's legs. When his vision cleared up, Dean turned to his right, finding Castiel already awake, lying on his side, staring at him with a bright blue gaze. And the weight on his legs was from one of Castiel's legs. The other man seemed to know that his leg was on top of Dean's body, and he looked a little embarrassed when Dean woke up and caught him still partially on him.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel said gruffly, his voice thick from sleep.
Dean blinked. The pillow was gone. Dean knew that. The pillow had been gone the night before, when Castiel rushed into their bedroom and waited for him. Dean didn't know what the fuck was up with the guy. One night he despised Dean, and the next he'd waited in bed, without the diving pillow, and with that same delicious nervous smile.
Hell, Dean didn't know how he managed to sleep knowing Castiel was so close. The whole night, he felt him moving closer and closer, even when Dean was already asleep. And the cold room had turned warm, all at once.
But now? Now Castiel was closer than ever. And he didn't look at all eager to move away.
"How long have you been awake?" Dean asked, clearing his throat. He brought his hands down to his sides, careful not to touch Castiel's unmoving leg. The man was in a relationship for crying out loud.
"Not long."
Dean nodded. When Castiel's gaze became unbearably intense, Dean stared up at the ceiling, aware that the same eyes continued watching him. "You hungry? I think I smell pancakes."
"Not yet," Castiel said. "I'm going to shower before breakfast."
"Good idea," Dean said, trying his best not to picture Castiel in the shower. Fuck. What the fuck was wrong with him? And why had Castiel not moved his leg away from Dean's lower regions? Was this part of his big mastermind plan to get back at Dean?
Castiel was quiet, and Dean lied still for a long moment. The only sound was of their stable breathing, and the mumbled voices in the living room.
"Dean?" Castiel muttered. It was spoken in the same way as the previous night. With the same…warmth.
Dean turned to Castiel, and the other man was smiling. The word radiant would be the only thing appropriate to describe his smile.
"If we'd met in different circumstances…" Castiel whispered, trailing off.
"What?" Dean asked. "What then?"
Castiel opened his mouth to speak again, but then he closed it and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I'm going to take a shower now."
Without a fair warning, the weight and the comfort of Castiel's leg was gone. And Dean was left wondering what the fuck that was about.
Dean had been right about the pancakes. He waited for Castiel to get out of the shower so they could eat breakfast together, since the rest of his family didn't wait for either of them to devour half of Mary's secret-recipe pancakes.
Bobby was taking current swigs of his flask, and Mary shot him disapproving glances that Bobby ignored.
"Isn't it a little too early for that, Bobby?" Mary said, scrubbing the dishes.
Groaning, Bobby took another long drink. "If I gotta put up with all of you in this prison cell I'm gonna need a refill soon."
Sam was helping Mary do the drying while she continued washing the dishes, and he kept whistling Christmas songs. John was sitting at the counter trying to keep up a conversation with Bobby, his brother, long enough before the other man buried his head behind his silver flask.
Mary finally let out a long sigh. "Alright, this room is way too crowded. We have a busy day ahead of us today. Sam, you can help me start on dinner. John, get more wood for the fire. Bobby, go have fun with the eggnog in another room." Mary's eyes narrowed on Dean and Castiel, who were still finishing up their pancakes. "You two, go have some fun."
As everyone left to do as Mary said, Dean and Castiel exchanged a glance with each other, quickly looking back down to their plates.
They decided to go outside and play in the snow. That is, after a lot of head tilts and eye squints and glancing away after long eye contact, Dean and Castiel agreed to grab some jackets and enjoy the nice white Christmas.
"Do you know your way around here, Dean?"
He was leading them through a long white trail surrounded by long snow-filled pine trees. Dean had spent every Christmas at this place. The question itself should have offended him. Except it didn't. Because he was still trying to figure out what was happening between the two of them. Dean still couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.
"Yeah," Dean replied. "Although I don't blame you if you can't trust me."
Castiel caught up to him, and he chuckled. "What are you gonna do? Kidnap me?"
"Very funny."
Castiel punched Dean's arm, playfully. "Where are you taking me this time? To your secret shed in the forest? Is this where you're going to tickle me to death?"
Dean rolled his eyes and kept walking, faster, so Castiel would pick up his pace. "Keep talking, Novak."
"Am I getting on your nerves now, Dean? Do you want me to shut up? Because if that's what you want, then you know I'm just going to keep talking."
Dean halted, turned around, and faced Castiel. In one quick motion, Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist, pulling him closer, close enough that their chests pressed against each other, and that they were puffing out cold visible breath into each other. Close enough for Dean to have nothing else but to think of those pink chapped lips less than an inch away from his.
Dean wasn't crazy. Castiel was shivering, but it wasn't from the cold. His gaze traveled to Dean's lips, and his eyes took on a darker color. Dean had managed to leave him speechless.
It would have been so easy to forget that they weren't in this situation. Dean could pretend so many things as they stayed this close to each other, the tension building up as neither of them made a single move. That Dean was just a guy who had earned the privilege of being in Castiel's presence without having to kidnap him first. That Castiel was single, and most importantly, attracted to Dean.
Most important, Dean wanted to pretend Castiel wasn't faking all of this. But deep down, he knew it was a lie, part of the charade Dean had started. Castiel was just playing along.
With a deep inhale through his nose, Dean loosened his grip on Castiel, straining to shape his most charming grin.
"I know how I can shut you up." Dean bent down, picked up a handful of snow, and pressed it tight in his hands, and rolled it up into a perfect snowball. He ran a few feet and tossed it over to Castiel before he ran to hide behind a tree.
It took a moment for Castiel to react to what had happened. Even as the snow dripped from his chest, the one that had been up close with Dean's just seconds before, Castiel just stood there unblinking.
"Cas?" Dean asked, starting to worry.
Shaking his head, Castiel seemed to get out of his momentarily paralysis. He worked on making a snowball and before he threw it at Dean, Castiel bit at his lower lip. "You should run because that tree isn't going to help you," Castiel warned, sounding amused.
"I think—" Dean started, but was cut off short when the snowball hit him right in the face. And it was fucking cold. "Son of a bitch," Dean mouthed.
"Run," Castiel warned, again, smirking.
Dean set off on a sprint down the trail filled with snow, careful not to slip. He laughed as he made another snowball and threw it at Castiel, and he laughed even harder when Castiel evaded the hit. It went on like this for half an hour. The entire time filled with a heck of a lot of laughter and running and chasing each other with snowballs.
It all came to an end as Castiel tackled Dean to the ground, and Dean shouted, "Truce!"
Castiel shook his head, climbing off of Dean. "There is no truce. I win and you know it."
"Do you have this compulsive need to get what you want?" Dean wondered.
Castiel shrugged. "I work hard for what I want. Nothing that is worth having is ever given out freely." Castiel offered Dean his hand and Dean took it, pulling himself off the ground.
"That explains your insane ability to make so many snowballs per minute. And your precision is admirable."
"Thanks," Castiel said, looking away with a smile.
Dean sighed, burying his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "What do you like to do for fun, Cas?"
Tilting his head, Castiel seemed to be pondering his answer. "I always liked flying. I took some classes back in the day, but I never pursued a career as a pilot. There was no time for that."
"What—your parents didn't give you enough millions to buy you a private jet?"
Castiel frowned, and a crease formed on his forehead. "Dean, I don't know what gave you the idea that I was born into wealth. My parents died when I was ten, and I grew up with my grandfather out in the country."
Dean swallowed. He did not expect to hear this from Cas. "That must have been hard for you."
"We didn't have much," Castiel continued. "But I worked hard to get a scholarship that would pay for my education. I worked part time while in college to pay for all my other expenses. And I'm not telling you any of this so you can take pity on me. I just don't want you to have me in this awful concept. I worked my way to the top, to the job that I now have."
"Was it worth it?"
Castiel stared at Dean, right into his eyes, thinking about the answer. "So far, I think so."
Dean grinned. "Good. That's good. You should be happy."
After a beat of silence, Castiel gave Dean's shoulder a light shove. "What do you like to do for fun, Dean?"
"Hmm. I write songs," Dean said, aware that he'd already confessed that the night before. The night Castiel cupped Dean's cheek in a way Dean still couldn't coherently grasp.
"Will you ever play something for me?" Castiel wondered.
Dean gaped at him. "You mean, like, a song? You want to hear me play my guitar?"
"Of course. Don't look so surprised. I might be a grumpy man but I still enjoy music."
Dean looked at his feet, with the sinking feeling that shouted at him that today was the last day he'd ever see Castiel. He'd promised Castiel he'd take him home after Christmas. There was no chance they'd ever see each other again. Not a chance Castiel would willingly want to see Dean again.
"Someday," Dean said, looking at Castiel again. "Someday I'll play for you."
"Can I hold you off on your word?"
Dean snorted. "Damn straight. Come on, I'm freezing." He turned and walked them back to the cabin. The walk long and calm, somehow easier. It seemed that their earlier contact had long been forgotten.
Once back inside the cabin, the scent of Mary's apple pie lingered in the air. He knew she baked them especially for Dean because there was no one else in their family more addicted to those deserts than Dean Winchester. And that was fact.
Dean and Castiel took off their jackets and went upstairs to play a game of Sorry on the entertainment room. Huddled up on the small table on the floor, they started playing. After a few turns, Dean was having trouble getting Castiel to focus on the game. Instead, he took Dean's hand and wiggled it around until his whole arm looked like spaghetti. He also worked in using Dean's own hand to hit Dean's hand, and for some strange reason Castiel found all of this amusing.
What do you know? Grumpy has the sense of humor of a child, Dean thought.
"Dean, why are you hitting yourself?" Castiel said, snickering.
"Cas, come on," Dean grunted. "Cas. Cas. Stop. Please. Cas."
Castiel laughed when Dean grasped his wrists and gently pushed him back to his side of the table, managing to settle him down for a moment. "I thought we were supposed to be having fun."
"We are," Dean said, motioning to the game board. "It's your turn. Pick a card."
Sighing, Castiel glanced down at the board and pulled a face. "Making you hit yourself was far more entertaining," Castiel said, finally taking his turn.
Dean stared at Castiel. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not," Castiel replied. "We're playing Sorry."
"I'm really sorry for everything I did," Dean said, earnestly. Hell, it was a little too late for apologies, but he sure felt the need to give them. "It's Christmas, and you should be with your family, not with me."
Castiel folded his arms on the table, pushing the game aside. "I'm having a nice time, Dean. While I'm here, I might as well enjoy it."
Dean tried to smile, but still a big part of him felt guilty. Castiel frowned.
"Let's go see if there are any more chocolate chip cookies left in the kitchen," Castiel offered, standing up.
"Alright, lead the way," Dean said, Castiel downstairs.
The two walked into the kitchen simultaneously and Sam made a loud squealing—yes, squealing!—noise that made both Dean and Castiel jump.
"You okay, man?" Dean asked, confused.
Mary glanced a few feet above Dean's head and smiled. "Mistletoe," she said, pointing to the doorframe above them. Dean looked up, and sure thing, the mistletoe was hanging down right above Dean and Castiel.
When Dean turned to Castiel, the other man was already looking at him. Dean noted the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. Was he nervous?
Dean turned to Sam and Mary, who had now become a cheerful audience. "Cas and I don't like making out in public. We're just so passionate that, more often than not, our kisses get too heated and we just don't want to give a show."
"Oh, that is bullshit," Sam said, folding his arms.
"It is mistletoe, Dean," Mary said, encouragingly.
And fuck, it wasn't like Dean was against the idea of tasting those broken lips before him, but if he really thought about it, Castiel would probably be completely against the idea of—
It was without a single heads up that a set of lips were crushed against Dean's mouth in less than a heartbeat. The last thing Dean remembered seeing were dark blue eyes and a ravenous look in them. Castiel kissed him, willingly and eager enough to throw Dean completely off the bat. And Dean's lower lip fell into place between Castiel's lips like a jigsaw puzzle. It was a single caress of their lips. Nothing short of harmless, and yet powerful enough to make Dean question his entire existence in regards of the universe.
Before Castiel pulled away, Dean became aware of the hand that held his cheek in the softest way during the kiss. Castiel allowed his hand to linger on Dean's face after the kiss was over, and Dean could still feel short static numbing sensations on his lips. Dean's first thought as his mind cleared up from the fog left by Castiel's breath was that those chapped lips did not feel as rough as he'd originally imagined.
"We should get the cookies," Castiel muttered, inhaling a long breath.
"Right," Dean agreed, still dazed. "Cookies."
Sam went back to work on cooking dinner, and Mary looked smug as Dean walked with Castiel to retrieve the cookies that had put them in this situation.
Dean decided he really liked those cookies.
It had become too distracting being with Castiel after their mistletoe incident. Dean decided to leave Castiel upstairs to finish his cookies while Dean helped Mary and Sam finish up dinner.
Sam was making the salad, while Mary and Dean took care of cleanup.
"Dean, sweetheart," Mary said, looking up from the counter she was wiping with a small towel. "Have you slept with more than one man?"
Stopping his hand on the pan Dean was scrubbing, he stared at his mother, bewildered. Sam looked up, as well, looking terrified and possibly scarred for life.
"No," Dean lied, wondering where the question fucking came from. Hell. That's where.
"Of course you have," Mary said, continuing with the towel. "These are different times. Nowadays, you don't just marry one person and hope for the best. Now you can test the waters until you find the one that truly makes you happy."
"I'm still in here," Sam said from the table. "Should I leave?"
Dean frowned at Sam, daring him to leave him alone to deal with their mother during her sudden midlife crisis. "Mom, are you okay?" Dean asked.
"It's just that you and Castiel look really happy together," Mary said, looking from Dean to Sam. "The only man I've ever been with is your father. And I love him, I do. But he's the only man I've ever slept with, you know. How do I know he's the one I was meant to be with?"
With a quiet groan, Sam snuck out of the room. Dean was going to kill him later, he didn't care that it was Christmas.
"Don't you think you should be talking to Dad about this?" Dean suggested, hesitantly.
Mary shook her head. "He never listens."
Dean sighed. "Well, I think it's almost time for presents. I'll go get everybody." Dean dried his hands and frowned at Mary, worried that she could really be as unhappy as she sounded. He understood why so many people were so terrified about committing to marriage.
"Yes, presents," Mary said, smiling. "We need to open presents."
"Come on, mom." Dean took the towel from Mary and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, walking with her to the living room.
"You think we can convince Bobby to join us for presents?" Mary wondered, seemingly back to normal.
Dean squeezed her shoulders. "We might just have to sell our soul for that to happen."
A person could only have so many chocolate chip cookies in one lifetime. Castiel had been craving so many sweet things while he was at the cabin. He'd never learned how to manage his needs and wants, or differentiate between them.
One thing was for sure. Castiel kissed Dean under the mistletoe. And the thing was, he didn't do it in a moment of weakness, or because he'd been mildly forced by the watching audience. No, Castiel kissed Dean because he wanted to. Because in the time he spent with Dean, Castiel was questioning all of his choices.
He wasn't sure he ever felt that much of a gravitational pull towards Daphne, something so strong that made him want to kiss her dark pink lips the same way he kissed Dean's. And the thought of spending every single day attached to that woman—the one who didn't bother to search for him when he went missing—felt more devastating than being forced into a vehicle at gunpoint.
Dean was crazy. He was. But there was a part of him that Castiel was so curious about. Castiel had an irrational need to comfort the other man, to make him feel worthwhile. There was so much heartache in Dean, and Castiel couldn't stand it. Despite everything Dean had done to aggravate Castiel at first, he couldn't not help Dean.
Castiel stood up from the couch to take the empty plate of cookies to the kitchen, but before he could pick up the plate, he noticed something. On the couch opposite him, the one Dean had occupied before their game of Sorry started, there was a gray notebook. Castiel glanced at it for quite a moment before he decided to pick it up.
He knew the value of privacy, and that this came pretty close to snooping, but Castiel couldn't resist opening the notebook.
To his absolute surprise and delight, Castiel realized that this was Dean's book of lyrics. His original song lyrics.
In an attempt to not pry any further, he shut the notebook. But he bit his lip, looking out the door of the empty room, leading to the empty hallway. Hell, Dean kidnapped Castiel and he got away with it. All Castiel wanted now was to read a snippet of what Dean had created. Was that too much to ask?
Finally, Castiel opened the notebook again, flipping to a random song. Only a snippet, he promised himself.
Moonlight spreading down,
Smiles can't be found,
While the down is burning
To the ground
Castiel read on, amazed and astounded and completely fascinated by Dean's words. Line after line read like poetry. But they were songs, they were Dean's songs. Castiel whispered them, and they escaped his lips like pure magic. To hell with invading privacy, Castiel read the next song.
I wish the light of the sun would reach me
Maybe then I could make a sound
I'm so paralyzed,
Frozen in time,
Seeking a way to find you,
Finally reclaim what's mine
And the next. And the next. Each song different, each one with a new meaning, new imagery, a new voice. Dean Winchester was an artist. Why the hell did he want to work as a salesperson at Leviathan Enterprises?
"Cas, get down here, it's time for presents!" Dean called from downstairs.
Castiel smiled at the open door.
There he was, sitting by the fireplace, that fucker. Dean sat next to Sam, glaring at him. Sam scooted away, knowing he deserved what was coming.
"Why did you leave me there alone, Samantha?" Dean hissed under his breath.
Sam tensed, turning to Dean with that sad puppy eye look he played so well. "I wasn't prepared to go through that psychological trauma. I'm still young, Dean. I have a lot to live for. Good God what is up with our mother?"
"Wasn't it clear enough?" Dean said. "She isn't happy with Dad anymore."
"I can't blame her," Sam said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, we have to do something to help her. Help their marriage."
"Sometimes it's better to let the inevitable happen," Sam said with a shrug.
"I don't like what you're insinuating. Bitch."
"Could you stop being a jerk since it's Christmas?"
"Never," Dean said, giving Sam a shove. "We have to do something."
Sam sighed. "Alright, fine."
Mary and John walked into the living room, and Castiel walked in a few moments later. Bobby was the last to gather with everyone.
They all took their places. Castiel sat on the rocking chair next to Dean, and they waved at each other, which was new. Mary took the presents from under the tree and delivered them out to everybody. Even Castiel got one. But it was not from Dean. In all his craziness, he didn't have time to get his unplanned guest a gift.
"Oh wow, thank you, Mrs. Winchester," Castiel said politely. "Can I open it?" Mary nodded. Castiel dug into the gift bag and pulled out a blue striped sweater. His eyes lit up and he looked to Dean. "This is so great."
"I really hoped you'd like it," Mary said, sheepishly. "I got it for you even before knowing how well it'd go with your eyes."
Mary was right. That sweater would really bring out Castiel's big blues. The gift was near perfect.
"Open yours, Dean," Mary insisted.
Dean opened his box and took out a ceramic angel. Everyone in the room laughed, but Castiel tilted his head, like he was missing the joke.
"They think I've been obsessed with angels since I was a kid," Dean explained quietly.
Castiel looked amused at that, and he gave a slight shrug.
Sam went next; he got a yellow book on Law Firms, which he couldn't have looked less thrilled about. They went around the room, opening more presents. Dean made sure to get Bobby a new cap. The old man kept wearing the same old dirty one.
At last, they seemed to have run out of gifts to open, and Dean felt relieved. He expected his parents to get him something with a message, like Sam's yellow book.
Until…
"Son, there's one more gift under the tree for you," John said, handing Dean one last large box wrapped in cheery red wrapping. "It's from me and your mother."
Dean glanced at Cas before he ripped the wrapping and opened the box. It was a dark black leather briefcase. It even had his initials engraved in a small gilded plaque. Frowning, Dean turned to his parents.
"We were sure you were going to get the job," Mary mumbled, looking apologetic.
John looked to Castiel, hopefully. "If you ever change your mind—" he started.
"I don't want to work as a salesman," Dean said, speaking the truth to his parents for the very first time in a fucking long time.
"Dean, you need to grow up and man up," John said, coldly. "Are you seriously happy with your current lifestyle? You live in a crappy loft downtown, can't even afford to fix the heater in your car, and you don't have health insurance."
"Dad, come on."
"I'm sick and tired of witnessing the stupid ways you keep screwing up your life, son," John continued, leaving Mary gaping in discontentment. "Go out there and find yourself a respectable job. I was okay with you giving up on women, I guess I understand why you wanted that, but this is more serious than who you want to spend your life with. This is about your career, your possible future success."
"Dad," Dean choked.
But John wasn't having it. "What you need to do is focus. You need to find one thing you're good at and focus on it."
"The only thing I care about is music," Dean said, sounding defeated. "I make music. That is the only thing that makes me feel like me. You can't expect me to stop writing songs."
Scowling now, John continued. "That's not what I said. I really don't give a rat's ass if you waste all of your free time in some loser-that-still-lives-with-his-parents' basement trying to form some stupid band. Do what you want for a hobby. Hell, I'll join you with some maracas. That's fine. But playing guitar and writing songs isn't going to get you anywhere. That's not a serious career unless you're Bob Dylan."
"I can still do something with my music," Dean said, raising his voice.
John leaned forward, ready to argue again, but Mary pushed him back into his chair. "Dean, your father and I were just trying to help," Mary said calmly. "We didn't mean to offend you."
Feeling like the ticking bomb Dean had been trying to keep from blowing up had finally ran out of time, he turned to Castiel. He was already looking at Dean, a worried crease in the middle of his brow. Dean allowed Cas to see him broken because there was no way to put up a façade after this. But Dean instantly realized that it was okay to let Castiel see him this way. He wasn't judging Dean, not the way his parents were. Cas seem to want to help him.
Scooting forward on his rocking chair, Castiel turned to John and Mary with a stern look on his face Dean had last seen at the place of his interview. "Mr. Winchester, I'd like you to know that I have read Dean's songs, and they're nothing short of extraordinary. I may not know much about the music industry, but I can recognize talent when I stumble upon it. His songs are raw, they're genuine and heartfelt. Some are a little depressing, but they're just so…beautiful."
John looked as though he'd been slapped in the face, but he wasn't angry at all. Mary remained looking apologetic as she glanced at Dean.
"I have something else for Dean," Castiel said, standing up. He looked to John and Mary, giving them a slight nod before he got down on one knee in front of Dean.
What the fuck is he doing?
Castiel smiled widely and carelessly as he pulled out a small square box from the pocket of his pants. "We've known each other a very short time, but in that time, I've grown to love every side of you, even the crazy one." Castiel paused, swallowed, and sighed deeply. "Dean Winchester, will you please marry me?" And then he opened the box to reveal a diamond that any girl would be lucky to have. Dean? Dean didn't need something so damn flashy.
A chorus of gasps went around the room, even from Sam who was sitting right beside Dean. The clearing of throat from Castiel reminded Dean that he still hadn't given an answer.
"Yes?" Dean replied.
With a satisfied smile, Castiel placed the ring on Dean's finger, which surprisingly fit extremely well. And then he did it again. Castiel kissed him. It lasted no more than two seconds, but every muscle in Dean's body reacted to the contact. Dean frowned, wanting more, but knowing he had no right to take it, so instead he wrapped his arms around Castiel.
With another kiss to Dean's cheek, Castiel hugged him back, wrapping his arms under Dean's shoulder and giving him a light squeeze.
Mary pulled Castiel away from Dean only to bury him in a hug of her own, and then Sam and John congratulated Dean. Bobby placed a hand to Dean's shoulder, and that was more than Dean ever hoped from his uncle.
"Oh Castiel, you have made this Christmas so special," Mary said, kissing her supposed future son-in-law.
"It's been a great holiday," Castiel replied.
Dean stared at his hand in disbelief. The ring, although light and thin, fit perfectly in Dean's finger, and although he knew the idea of marriage had always seemed absurd, this pretend engagement didn't seem as insane as the rest of his holiday.
Chuckling and more joyful than Dean had ever seen her, Mary stood at the center of the room and lifted a hand. "Everyone, I know we're all very excited about the engagement, and we're all so happy to have Castiel as part of our family. But we need to give the couple some privacy now before dinner. We'll meet back in the dining room at seven, alright?"
"That leaves me three hours to sleep," Bobby said, walking out of the room. Soon after, Sam and John left. Mary took Dean on an embrace and kissed his forehead before leaving as well.
Once the room had cleared, Castiel walked the few feet of distance to Dean. All the pretending seemed to have gone to his head because the man looked as excited as Mary. Cas was smiling so much that his eyes were hardly visible with all the squinting.
"That was unexpected," Dean said.
Castiel tilted his head. "We really gave them the show they were waiting for."
Dean glanced at his left hand, again, shaking his head. "Well, thank you. Even if you're doing all of this to get back at me, you've really played your part better than I hoped."
"It's not as hard as you'd imagine."
Dean laughed. "You know you didn't have to kiss me," he muttered. Twice. Not that I was counting.
Swinging his foot close to Dean's shoe, Castiel chuckled. "I guess I take my part very seriously."
For a moment, Dean remembered what Castiel had said earlier, to defend him from John. It had been what Dean had been in need of hearing for so many years. But he was now realizing that it had all been part of the game. Castiel had never even heard Dean play, much less read any of his songs.
"You also didn't have to stick up for me back then," Dean said. "You lie pretty well, I'll hand it to you. But if you ever heard my music you probably wouldn't have the same opinion."
"What are you talking about?" Castiel asked, confused. "I didn't make any of that up. I'm sorry if this angers you, Dean, but I found the notebook you left upstairs. I read most of your songs. Everything I said was true."
Dean made a small O with his lips. "Were you hoping you were going to find my diary? I don't keep one of those anymore. Not since Sam was able to read because that was too much of a danger."
Cas laughed. "No, I was actually hoping I'd find some of your music. I've been really curious as to what all the fuss is about."
The feeling of the ring of Dean's left hand was a new experience, and he swung his foot to his Castiel's before asking him something else. "Cas, tell me, do you just carry big diamond rings in your pocket waiting for a fake proposal?"
"You can never be too sure when a crazy person's going to need a fake engagement."
Dean inhaled, and his breathing felt strained. "I know I already said it before, but I'm really sorry—"
"Dean, stop," Castiel said, interrupting him. "You and I, we're done with apologies. Let's just enjoy today, can you do that? It's such a nice beautiful day outside. It's Christmas. We're having fun, right?"
"Yeah, but—"
"No buts. Besides, it hasn't been that bad." Cas grinned, placing a warm hand to Dean's cheek. "Promise?"
Dean nodded. "And I promise I'll take you anywhere you want after dinner."
Castiel dropped his hand and his smile faltered. "Okay."
Unable to fight his need for a nice cup of wine to celebrate, Dean went to the storage room for another bottle of wine. When he opened the door, the light was on and Sam was sitting on a chair, drinking a beer.
"Hey, man," Dean said, walking in and closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"
"Trying to get wasted, what does it look like?"
Dean arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were a happy drunk."
"Guess I'm not," Sam said. "Congratulations on your engagement with Cas. I'm sure you're good together."
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, sitting on the chair next to Sam. He was surprised to have called his little brother by his old nickname. The one he used when they were younger and actually spoke on the phone more than two to three times a year.
"I'm just trying to figure out how to come out to our parents," Sam said.
Dean stilled. "You're gay?"
"What? No. I just don't want to be a fucking lawyer. It sucks!"
Dean snorted. "I don't know how you've lasted three years at Sanford."
Sam groaned. "How am I gonna tell dad that I just want to open up a coffee shop? All this time I could have just gone to business school. But heforced me, Dean, he forced me to go to law school. Just like he forced you to give up your dream."
"I know, Sammy."
"We can't let him keep getting away with this, Dean. We're adults, now. We need to learn to stick up to the man."
"When are you going to tell him?" Dean wondered.
Sam smiled. "I was thinking tonight, at dinner."
"What?"
"I'm going to tell him all about my idea," Sam continued, nodding. "I'm going to buy a lot of art and put it up on the walls. I'm going to have poetry nights, and open mike nights, and people are just going to be able to hang there and drink some of the best coffee they'll ever taste. I've tried creating the best recipe, and I've found it."
"Wow. That sounds really good, Sammy. I'm proud of you."
Sam took out a cold beer from the cooler by his feet and handed it to Dean. "Drink with me?"
Dean took the beer, opened it and took a sip. "I was actually coming to get a bottle of wine, but this is so much better."
Sam raised his bottle and Dean clicked his own bottle with Sam's. "To living our dreams and defying John's fucking stupid wishes," Sam said.
"Cheers."
Castiel was exhausted after spending most of the afternoon trying to keep Bobby from trying to ditch his family. Apparently, nobody bothered to take the keys away from him, and at his first chance, he tried fleeting the scene.
Now Castiel finally had time to take a nice bath and shave his face, which had managed to grow a scruffy beard in the last couple days.
The bathroom door was opened without a knock, and Castiel was just realizing that he forgot to lock it. He hadn't exactly gone into his bath yet, and at least he wasn't completely nude. Well, except for the towel wrapped around his hips, he was naked. But that didn't seem to bother Dean Winchester.
Dean stood there, by the door, paralyzed, almost like he'd been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.
"Sorry," Dean said, backing away. "I didn't know you were in here."
"That's okay, Dean. I don't mind." Castiel put away his newly acquired (from John) shaving cream and razor, and turned to Dean, reclining against the sink. "Do you need to take a shower?"
Dean raised both his eyebrows, somehow taken aback by the question. He was struggling not to look below Castiel's neck, but he caught Dean glancing at his abdomen. Cas hadn't been lying about working out. But he didn't say anything. It was enough to have Dean all flustered again.
"No, I'm good," Dean finally said, swallowing. "Do you need a towel?"
Cas pointed at his waist. "I already have one, but thanks."
Dean let himself completely into the bathroom, closing the door before taking one step forward. Castiel became interested, and he flexed his shoulders, resting his hands on the sink he was nearly sitting on.
It only took a few more steps for Dean to breach the distance between them. He got close to Castiel, again, as close as he'd been when they'd walked outside in the snow. But fuck, Dean was such a tease. And Castiel knew he would never act on whatever this was between them. It was truly frustrating.
They both leaned in at the same time, not wasting another possible second they could have been stuck lip to lip. Dean moaned when Castiel took his mouth like a winning prize. Before Castiel took hold of Dean's face, sliding up to tangle on his hair, Dean's hands traveled the length down Castiel's bare chest, gripping at the skin as much as he could. The mutual hunger between them heated the air, and the bathroom was suddenly a sauna.
"Cas," Dean gasped, pulling away to kiss at his jaw, moving his hands to Castiel's back and burying his fingers deep into his skin. The pressure felt glorious.
Castiel moved his hands back to Dean's face and guided his lips back to the direction of his mouth. Dean kissed him back, and Castiel groaned with a desperate need to have more. With complete deliberation, Castiel pressed his tongue to Dean's lips and Dean allowed him access. When their tongues met, Dean used his hands on Castiel's back to pull him closer, so that every part of them touched.
"Fuck, Dean," Cas moaned, giving an intense push of his hips to Dean, and he was proud when he felt a bulge beneath Dean's jeans.
Dean pulled away, suddenly. "Holy crap," Dean said, breathlessly.
"I know. Get back here," Castiel pulled Dean to him, again, since he hadn't even attempted to remove his hands from Dean's face. He managed to get a few more heated kisses, enough to get Dean excited again, so much that Dean took Cas' lower lip between his teeth, causing his legs to tremble with desire.
"No, Cas, please, stop," Dean said, taking a step back and removing every part of him from Castiel's reach.
Castiel took a deep breath, attempting to stabilize his speeding heart. "Why?"
"I can think of a few reasons," Dean said, running both of his hands through his hair.
Leaning back against the sink, Castiel tried to relax, although his twitching cock wouldn't let him. "Okay."
Dean frowned. "I should go."
"Unfortunately."
"I'm just going to lock the door for you," Dean said, smiling slyly before walking out and leaving Castiel empty and alone.
It was one thing to pretend to be with Dean in front of his family, to play a part of Dean's sick, twisted game. But it was a completely different story when Castiel attacked Dean's lips like the world was ending and he wanted Dean to be the last taste in his mouth. And fuck, Dean wanted the same thing.
Nothing could guarantee that Castiel hadn't just faked the whole thing in the bathroom. He'd proved to be an excellent liar so far. But why the hell would Castiel want to prove by kissing Dean in such indecent ways? Was he still playing the part Dean had forced him into, or was he acting on his own? What the fuck was that all about?
No, Dean couldn't possibly get any ideas. He was already crazy enough. And that ring on his finger wasn't even his. No matter how many kisses Castiel could give him, none of them were really Dean's.
He ruffled through his clothes until he found his nicest suit, with his only black tie. Dean looked like a clown in that suit, the mirror proved it. But it was Christmas, after all, and he figured if they were all pretending, a little more sugarcoating wouldn't hurt.
"You look really handsome."
Startled, Dean jumped, turning around. Castiel stood on the doorframe, leaning against the wall. He was wearing the suit from the day Dean kidnapped him, though Dean never did return his tie.
"So do you," Dean mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Is it going to be weird now between us?"
"If you keep sticking your tongue in my mouth, it might."
Castiel laughed. "I can't make any promises. But forget about that right now. I want to show you something."
"What is it?"
"Follow me," he said, turning and walking away.
Knowing he would probably regret this, Dean followed Castiel outside. Castiel stopped walking once they both reached the gazebo out in the back. It was dark and cold, and Dean was starving for some of Mary's apple pie.
"What are we doing here, Cas? Do you want to have another snowball fight right now?"
Castiel scoffed, entering the gazebo. He flipped a switch, and hundreds of lights turned on. There were Christmas lights on the gazebo and all around on the trees surrounding it. Dean knew all these lights hadn't been here before. Actually, last time anybody bothered putting so many lights up out here was on Dean's twelfth birthday…
Shit.
"Cas, what's all of this for?"
With a wicked grin, Castiel walked back to Dean, wiggling his eyebrows in excitement. "I want you to play me one of your songs."
"A song? Right now?"
Cas nodded encouragingly.
"It's almost dinnertime and my hands are freezing," Dean protested.
"Come on, Dean. Just one song. I want to hear you sing."
Dean pondered his request. He'd probably sound a little bit rusty. He hadn't played in weeks. "One song?"
"Yes. I have your guitar ready for you." Castiel took Dean's hand and pulled him into the gazebo, where the lights shone the brightest. "Sam told me it was in the trunk of your car."
Sure enough. Dean's old Taylor was propped on a stand in the gazebo, ready to be played. Dean turned to Cas. "How did you get in the trunk of my car?"
Castiel smiled sheepishly. "I found the plastic bag of keys hidden in the storage room earlier."
"And instead of escaping you decided to do all this?" Dean asked, incredulous.
"You owe me a show, Dean Winchester," Castiel accused. "I'm waiting." He sat on the bench in the gazebo and stared at Dean, stubbornly.
Dean picked up his guitar and sat at the other end of the small gazebo. Castiel had his full attention on Dean, waiting to be no less than impressed. It was a lot of pressure, and Dean wasn't lying about the cold.
"Which song do you want to hear?" Dean asked, stretching his fingers of one hand as he positioned his guitar with the other. Once he finally set her right against him, he felt at ease.
"Any," Castiel answered, earnestly.
"Don't fucking laugh," Dean warned.
Castiel looked confused. "Why would I laugh at your music? That'd be rude."
Dean breathed, long and hard, before proceeding with the performance. He decided to play the first song he'd ever written. It was filled with clichéd lines and unsuccessful rhythmic sequences, but Dean was still proud of his song. He'd written it with his first guitar. He still kept that old acoustic, even though it couldn't play anymore. Dean kept it on display at his apartment because it always brought him pleasant memories.
Castiel watched him with something resembling awe, and when it became too much for Dean, he looked away and simply focused on playing and singing the right notes and strumming at the right time, and working his best with the natural echo of his surroundings. Castiel wasn't the worst audience. In fact, he was the best Dean had had.
He listened, and he seemed to enjoy what he was listening, what Dean was playing.
If only they could stop time right at this moment. If only Dean could stay here forever, playing for Castiel, singing his favorite song, having those pretty blue eyes watching him with a powerful intensity.
If only life were that simple.