I
Dean pocketed the slip from coat check, rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them after his walk from parking the car. For the thirtieth time since he'd rolled them up, he considered unrolling his sleeves and buttoning them like a civilized human being; at a glance he could see that nearly everyone in the event hall was more smartly dressed than he was, and being underdressed had always made him feel conspicuous.
"Should have worn a tie," he muttered to himself as he returned a wave to one of the other techs. "Sam has ties. He'd have loaned me one."
Nearly everyone was already in their social clusters around the event hall, and even Sam and Jess had found a group to mingle with in the short time since Dean had dropped them off before parking. The dance floor in the center was conspicuously empty, as it nearly always was this early in the evening. He could see event staff making their rounds with their trays of hors d'oeuvres. He scanned the room quickly, heartbeat quickening in anticipation, but Dr. Novak was nowhere to be seen. A twinge of disappointment thrummed against his sternum but Dean opted to ignore it, heading over to the cash bar and snatching three hors d'oeuvres on the way.
"Dean!"
Dean turned expectantly before the voice registered as female; a smile came to his face anyway as he recognized the owner. "Charlie. I haven't seen you around lately. I thought you'd ditched us."
"I kind of did for a while," the red-haired radiology tech admitted. "My mom…I finally said goodbye." A hardness appeared behind her eyes.
"I'm sorry." The words were thin and inadequate, but Charlie nodded at the small comfort.
"Anyway. There was all sorts of stuff to take care of after that, so I cut back to per diem. But I think everything is done now, so I'm back to full time." She offered a smile, which, while brittle, still seemed genuine. "You were out most of last week, which was my first week back."
"Ah." Dean nodded, raising his bottle of beer to his lips. "And who is this lovely lady?" he asked as another woman came up behind Charlie and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Oh!" Charlie's smile instantly became warmer as she reached out to pull the other woman closer. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Dorothy. Dorothy, this is Dean. I've been working with him for…three years or so, now." She looked to Dean. "We met about two months ago."
"Good to meet you," Dorothy said, holding out a hand. Dean took it, shaking it firmly.
"Likewise." To Charlie, "Good grip. I like her."
"So what do you do?" Dorothy asked Dean.
"Surg tech. You?"
"Parole officer," Dorothy responded, making Dean's eyebrows shoot straight up.
"Wow. What's that like?"
Dorothy began to speak, but a movement at the door to the restrooms caught at the edge of Dean's vision and suddenly all his attention focused on one spot in the room; even from across the dance floor Dean recognized the angle of the jaw and the way the fingers curled around the cup of the wineglass.
"Earth to Dean," Charlie said, waving, and Dean blinked, suddenly disoriented. Charlie looked faintly amused as she followed the path of his gaze and her eyes lit on Dr. Novak. "Ah." She lifted her champagne glass to her lips, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. "So the rumors are true. Or at least the nice ones."
Dean swallowed the words he'd been about to say. "There are rumors?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Like, seventy people work here. There are always rumors." She took Dorothy's hand. "Dean wants to go flirt, but he's not rude enough to say so," she said with a wink at Dean.
"It was nice meeting you," Dean said graciously at Dorothy's arch look, which appeared to mollify her.
"You too." She shot a glance across the room just in time to see Dr. Novak's eyes lighting on Dean and his small wave. "Good luck," she added as Charlie led her away.
Dean took a breath, tugged on the bottom of his shirt to straighten it, and began to make his way across the room.
II
"You made it," Dean said uselessly, gesturing with his beer bottle. He tried not to let his eyes linger, but Dr. Novak had made it very difficult; the vest he'd donned hugged his torso just so, showing off the lean lines that were always swallowed up by scrubs and surgical gowns.
"I did," Dr. Novak confirmed, leaning back against the wall and crossing one leg over the other. He nodded out at the rest of the people milling about the event hall. "More of a turnout than I expected, to be honest. I guess I thought people would be traveling, with the center closed Monday and Tuesday and Christmas."
Dean shrugged. "I'm sure some people are. I don't see Dr. Angeles here, or Dr. Miller."
"Gabe flew out to California on Wednesday," Dr. Novak confirmed. "He's got a new nephew."
"Ah," Dean replied.
A silence followed, punctuated by the light Christmas jazz music emanating from the speakers next to the bored DJ.
"So are you going anywhere for Christmas?" Dean ventured.
"Nah." Dr. Novak took another sip from his almost-empty wineglass. "Christmas was never that big a deal at home. By the time I left home my parents had stopped the tree entirely." He shrugged. "We'll still send cards with money to each other. Usually we end up breaking even and wonder what the entire exercise was for." He grinned, mostly to himself. "What about you? Any plans?"
Dean shook his head. "Sam and Jess are taking off on some romantic getaway. I've got the house to myself."
He chanced a sidelong glance; Dr. Novak was chewing his lower lip in thought. "We should do something," the surgeon said suddenly, looking up with an expectant light in his eyes.
"Yeah?" Dean asked, heart giving a strange lurch in his chest.
"Yeah," Dr. Novak repeated, enthusiasm warming his tone. "Go see one of those horrible movies and get Chinese food. Or bring coffee to the grocery store employees who have to work."
"You do realize you're suggesting hanging out with your tech on your day off," Dean said hesitantly.
Dr. Novak looked sharply at Dean; their eyes locked and Dean felt a thread of nerves wind through his middle. Dr. Novak licked his lips and took a breath. "You're…not my tech when you're not clocked in." A ripple of realization crossed his face. "Is that why you always insist on calling me 'Doc?'"
Dean swallowed. "Kind of."
Dr. Novak switched his wineglass to his other hand and reached out to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Call me Doc when you're getting paid to do it. Any other time…I'm Cas. Okay?"
Nodding, chest suddenly suffused with something lightweight and heady, Dean grinned. "Cas. Got it."
III
The door prizes had all been presented, the toasts had been finished, and the savory hors d'oeuvres were making their shift to the sweet dessert bites. The music was now shifting to a slightly more upbeat playlist, though still not anything approaching what would get Dean out in the middle of the floor to exhibit his highly questionable dance skills.
Dr. Novak – Cas – had just returned from the cash bar with two beers, one held out to Dean confidently, and Dean took it with appreciation. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tall, slender figure bent over, whispering to the DJ, and he shook his head and laughed.
"So," he said, nudging Cas and jerking his head in the direction of the DJ. "You've met Balthazar, right? The OB/GYN doc?"
"Briefly," Cas replied.
"Well. He does this every year, so fair warning. He's going to go around and start dragging people onto the dance floor. Everybody. Whether they can dance or not. He used to be a West Coast Swing champion."
"Did he now." Cas's expression had shifted from amused to thoughtful.
"He's got the trophy in his office. So if he –" Dean was interrupted by Cas handing Dean his beer. "Doc? Cas? What…?"
Hands full, he watched in bewilderment as Cas tapped Balthazar on the shoulder for a brief murmured conference that reduced Balthazar to a momentary fit of giggles. They both turned to the DJ, who gave them a thumbs-up and turned to his laptop.
Dean was expecting it, but the sudden blare of horns from the speakers caught the rest of the room off-guard as the opening bars to what was unmistakably "Jump, Jive 'n Wail" echoed through the room. Conversations were immediately silenced and Dean watched in growing bemusement as the two surgeons, one with an awkward grin and one clearly giddy with glee, began to dance with an enthusiasm Dean had assumed was reserved for the slot before prime-time television.
Scattered cheering broke out as they completed a series of complicated-looking spins, the entire room now watching the dervish in the middle of the dance floor. Cas was laughing now, the result of an aborted dip that Balthazar had attempted, but only a few beats passed before they were back in the rhythm, looking for all the world as though they had been rehearsing for weeks.
Dean was well aware that his jaw was hanging open, but he didn't think he had the wherewithal to instruct his muscles to close it. People were applauding and catcalling good-naturedly as Cas warned Balthazar against trying to dip him again as the song ended, his shout clearly heard over the fading of the music. Balthazar laughed, hands on his knees as he doubled over, and Cas pounded him on the back with a wide grin himself before threading his way through the throng of people back towards Dean.
"I haven't done that in years," Cas said, eyes shining, breathing heavily. He reached up to loosen his tie around his neck, unbuttoning one button and shaking his head as though laughing at himself.
Even in the light that had grown dim to accentuate the dancing mood, Dean could see the flush in Cas's cheeks. His hair had lost all semblance of being tamed, and stuck out at odd angles that were only slightly fixed by Cas raking a hand through it as he leaned against the wall, catching his breath.
Like a thunderclap, Dean felt an almost physical impact of sheer, unadulterated desire to touch, to hold close, to thread his own fingers through the tousled hair and give Cas another reason to be flushed and breathless. Irrationally, he started looking around the room for an excuse – any excuse – he knew that they usually hung some just for laughs –
"What are you looking for?" Cas asked, breathing mostly normal now.
Dean's eyes darted to Cas's face; the excitement that had shone from it a few moments ago was calming and smoothing the laugh lines from around the surgeon's eyes. Dean swallowed.
He could answer "nothing" and let it go, and things would be as they always had been.
"Mistletoe," he said instead, and waited for the fallout.
IV
Cas grinned. "I haven't had nearly enough to drink yet for that," he began, and then faltered as Dean held out one of the beers he was holding.
Amusement gave way to astonishment as his eyes shifted between the beer and Dean's face. "You're serious," Cas said. It was not a question.
"Dead serious," Dean replied, proud of the way his voice did not waver.
Very slowly, Cas nodded. "Dean," he said, "I…think you've had entirely too much to drink, and it would be irresponsible of me to let you drive home tonight."
Dean blinked. "What?"
Cas nodded again, more firmly this time. "We're going to have to share a cab."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're really bad at this."
"Yes. I am." Cas took a breath and looked Dean firmly in the eye. "Come home with me tonight."
The words reverberated up and down Dean's spine in a delicious thrill. "Okay."
V
"Here." Dean pressed the car keys into Sam's hand. "You take her home."
"What?" Sam turned. "Where are you going?"
"I've…got other plans tonight." Dean backed off with a lazy salute. "Have fun in wherever it is you're going. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Don't wait up."