Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Well, that doesn’t look too promising,” Dean said, putting pressure on the brake. The car cruised through crisp snow in the darkness, heading towards the flashing sign ahead. Dean had to squint before he could read what it said. “Closed for... what?”

“Snow, I’m guessing,” Sam said from the passenger’s seat.

The Impala eased to a halt only feet from the valley’s exit. The growl of the car’s idling engine alerted a man in a luminescent orange parka to their presence, and he hopped off the side of his truck and waddled towards Dean’s side of the car. Dean wound down the window, leaning closer as the man approached.

“You won’t be gettin’ outta here tonight,” the man said, shaking his head and making his chins jiggle. “There’s workers up the valley with their diggers shovelling quick as they can, but the snow’s coming down faster than they can work. Couple more hours and the boss says he’s sending us all home.” The walkie-talkie clipped to the man’s belt blared to life with a corrupted voice, saying much the same thing. The man silenced it and gave Dean a sad look. “If you had places to be... well, you’re mighty stuffed.”

“That’s just... great,” Dean said, patting a hand on the steering wheel. He had graveyard dirt under his fingernails, and he curled his fingers so he didn’t have to look at it.

“There’s decent food and shelter back in town,” the worker said. “Now you’re stuck here... eh, I’ll be honest, it’s not too bad a place to be stuck. Here’s hoping you don’t have family back home waitin’.”

Sam huffed and reached into his pocket for his cellphone; Kevin was alone in the bunker. Dean watched his brother start to type out a text message, then turned his attention back to the road worker. “Thanks,” Dean muttered, then set his car into reverse. “Have a good Christmas, if you ever get home.”

“Oh, I will,” the man chuckled. “No way I’m sticking this crap out for any longer than I have to.” He gave a friendly wave as Dean nodded, and once the window was rolled back up, Dean reversed the car back down the winding road. He went far enough that he had space to pivot, then proceeded to demonstrate a perfect three-point turn.

They made fresh tracks down the road back to town, engine roaring.

Dean sighed, dirty fingers tapping on the wheel in agitation.

“I’m sure Kevin will be okay,” Castiel said lowly, leaning forward from the back seat. “He has food and water, he can take care of himself.”

“He can take care of himself, yeah, but that’s not the point,” Sam said, tucking his phone back into his coat pocket. “It’s Christmas Eve. We told him we’d be back by Christmas Day.”

“Nobody likes spending Christmas alone, Cas,” Dean said over his shoulder. “Kevin’s just a kid. Dad used to do that to us, he used to up and leave before Christmas and we wouldn’t see him ‘til after New Year’s.” Dean caught Sam’s eye, held it for a moment, then stared out at the road, watching the coloured lights of the tiny Minnesota town approaching once again.

“Christmas used to suck when we were younger,” Dean went on, feeling sullen. “I mean, yeah, it was cool that me and Sammy could spend it together, and there was that feeling of independence because Dad wasn’t there. When Dad wasn’t around, we were grownups. But grownups have a source of income, you know? When you’re twelve and you’ve got an eight-year-old kid sitting hungry...” He licked his lips, shaking his head and guiding the Impala’s wheels through the parallel grooves dug into the snow by other vehicles.

Castiel took a breath to speak. “It’s not your fault you can’t get back to Kevin.”

Dean scoffed quietly. “Wasn’t Dad’s fault either. But he still did it. And now we’re doing the same to Kev. Apples and trees, Cas. They don’t fall far.”

It got quiet following those words, and rather than think about John Winchester, Dean focused on the way the Christmas lights in storefront windows made scattered rainbows slide over the Impala’s glossy hood. Pedestrians strolled through the town, padded out in parkas and mittens and woolly hats. Despite the clouds of white that illustrated their every breath, they looked cosy, and happy. Dean kept on driving, slow enough that he felt the newest snow giving way under the weight of the car.

“I still have some mojo,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “I could transport us back to the bunker.”

“No, you gotta conserve your power,” Dean warned him. “If Kevin’s Christmas sucks, that’s one thing, but if you turn into some dehydrated vegetable because you’re out of juice, that’s gonna ruin a whole lot more than just Christmas. No using your mojo, you hear me?” He looked over his shoulder to make sure Cas was in understanding.

“Yeah,” Castiel said, meeting Dean’s eyes before Dean returned his gaze to the road. “Yeah, I hear you.”

Sam laughed. Dean glanced over and saw he was looking at his phone.

“Kevin just sent me a photo,” Sam grinned. He laughed again, head tipping against the headrest. “You know what, I think he’s gonna be fine without us. Look.” He passed the phone back to Castiel, and Castiel took it to peer at the screen.

“What, what is it?” Dean asked.

Dean had never heard Cas laugh before, but now he had, he wasn’t surprised to know his laugh sounded like a jumpy little chuckle, followed by a slow hum. “Dean. Um. Kevin has made a thorough mess of your kitchen. There are several vegan dishes which he says you would never have fed him had you been home, and... he apparently has no intention to share.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath. “You tell Gordon Ramsay there that if he doesn’t have that place spotless by the time we get back, I’ll be slipping bacon into every cereal box, snack pack and herbal teabag that ever goes his way.”

“That sounds cruel,” Castiel said in concern. “And unusual.”

Dean’s chuckle had a bitter edge. “Exactly. Sounds like decent motivation to me.”

Sam took back his phone with another a quiet laugh. “I’ll, uh... pass on your season’s greetings.”

“You do that.”

They rumbled on through town while Dean kept watch for a motel – or, alternatively, anywhere he could find directions to a motel, like a phone booth or a bar. The problem was, this place was less like the collection of strip clubs and dive bars that Dean was used to, and was more like Hogsmeade instead. He could pretend he wasn’t reminded of the nice little village from Harry Potter, but cheerful lights gleamed out of every window, every porch awning was topped with four inches of snow, and the place seemed to be structured entirely out of cobblestones and cottages. Dean hadn’t really noticed while hunting a ghost with Sam and Cas earlier that day, but now the town’s magical ambience was impossible to overlook. It was a picture-perfect Christmas village. Dean kinda liked it.

“This might not be too bad,” he said, with eagerness in his voice. He toned it down a bit, and went on, “I dunno. If we can’t get out, maybe the universe is telling us we oughta stay in.”

“Since when do you give up because ‘the universe’ tells you to?” Sam asked, gentle mockery in his words.

“Since it’s Christmas and there’s no goddamn apocalypse waiting around the next corner, that’s when.”

“Is a B&B anything like a motel?” Castiel asked out of nowhere.

Sam answered before Dean could: “It stands for ‘bed and breakfast’. It’s nearly the same as a motel, but usually more expensive because they’re privately owned and they offer food. They kick you out after breakfast in the morning. Why?”

“There’s one back there, we just passed it,” Castiel said. “On the left.”

Dean considered turning around. He knew from experience that they couldn’t afford a B&B, not if they were paying out of pocket. Depending on the area, they might end up shelling out nearly two hundred bucks (one room for two nights) which was about five times more than they would usually be prepared to pay at an average roadside motel. Thankfully, they didn’t need to pay with their own money: that was what credit cards were for.

“Guess this is why they say Christmas is the most expensive time of year,” Dean murmured, slowing at a junction and revolving the car’s nose in a U-turn. There were no other cars around, so nobody was there to judge him when he accidentally bumped up onto the curb, then scratched a wheel cap when the Impala dropped back into the road. He cringed, and the grimace didn’t leave his face for a good few seconds.

Sam sighed and reached for his wallet, unfolding the assorted collection of credit cards and fake IDs. “While we’re stranded, we might as well put some hours in. Acquiring decent credit cards isn’t as quick and easy as I’d like it to be.”

Dean smirked, angling the car into an empty parking space outside the B&B, right next to the carved wooden sign. “Well, hey,” he said, “If credit card fraud was quick and easy, everyone would be doing it.”

“Hff. Yeah. —Oh, here, found one.” Sam held a credit card up for Dean to take. “Who’s gonna be Mr. Fake Credit Card today?”

“Gotta be Cas,” Dean said, passing the card back over his shoulder. “He’s the only one who isn’t covered in graveyard dirt. Plus, he’s wearing a suit. These places believe anything from a well-dressed guy with a decent face.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. Dean blinked, feeling the card lifted from his hand. For a second, he wasn’t certain if Cas was thanking him for the card or for something else. Sam was giving him a funny look – Dean scowled back and Sam smirked, looking out of the window at the road.

Dean’s bones creaked in complaint as he clambered out of the car. “Man, I feel old,” he said, stretching straight with his hands against his lower back. “Been in the car less than twenty minutes and I already feel like I’ve been on a road trip and a half.” He took a deep breath of snow-fresh air, letting it out in a gust of warm, white condensation. He looked around, seeing very few people but a fair number of small fir trees with decorative lights winding around their branches. Glimmers of gold cast a sparkle on the sidewalk, and in the road, faint blurs touched the snow with colour. Dean smiled to himself. The bunker was good, but this was good too.

“Alright, Cas,” Sam said, standing beside Castiel on the sidewalk with his hands in his jacket pockets. “When you go in there... You know what to do, right?”

“Ask for one room with an extra bed.”

“The cheapest one,” Dean added, hopping up onto the sidewalk, then glancing down to shake snow off his boot. “Preferably with a bathroom we don’t have to share with someone else.”

Castiel nodded bravely, then hung his head with his eyes cast down. “I’m sure the owners won’t mind if you ask. You’re both... well-dressed, with decent faces.”

Dean caught Sam’s eye, biting his lip to hold back his grin. Sam chuckled, then reached up to pat Cas on the back. “You’ll be okay, man. If you get really stuck we’ll back you up.”

They started walking towards the B&B, passing the wooden sign on the left and a frozen flower bed on the right. The B&B was a transformed stone mansion, wide, with eight shuttered windows on its front and a larger one in an arch over the front door. The building itself was two stories tall, and the roof slanted forwards. Half its snow cover had already fallen away, revealing the grey slate tiles beneath. Three windows protruded from the roof tiles, presumably allowing the attic a decent view.

“Nice place,” Dean said, reaching to pluck at a shrub, shaking the icicles which hung from its twigs. “Must look awesome in summer.”

“It looks impressive even in winter,” Castiel said, leading Dean and Sam up the five steps to the stoop. Dean ran his hand up the black railing beside him; cold burned his skin, and he shoved his fist back into his pocket.

Castiel took another step up and pushed the door open. Orange warmth flooded over Dean’s face in a tidal wave, drying his eyes so fast he had to blink – and when he could see clearly, Castiel had gone inside and approached the front desk. Sam followed, and Dean took one last cold breath before following.

It was small yet roomy inside the B&B. The entrance area had a wall of postcards pinned to a corkboard on the left, and below that was a coffee table with a vase of dried flowers. Ahead was a stone desk, draped in ropes of holly, behind which sat a lady with an afro and a fine smile. Dean felt comforted by her fluffy cardigan and eye wrinkles, and he turned to close the door before the warmth could escape.

“Hi there. Welcome to Lone Acre’s Bed-and-Breakfast, I’m Janine,” the woman said with a nod, speaking in some European accent. Dean was reminded of Balthazar. What was that, English? London-ish? What was the word for that? Janine looked from Sam to Cas to Dean, asking, “What’re you three after?”

Castiel glanced at Sam for reassurance, then back to Janine. “Beds. And... bathrooms.”

“Well, you’re in the right place,” the woman laughed, clicking her tongue. Her smile faded slightly, and she turned her head, looking at her desk. “But... I’m sorry to say, because of that storm in the valley, all our normal rooms are booked out.” She didn’t look sorry at all, and even less so when she looked up and announced, “All that’s left is our biggest room. There’s a private bathroom and a king-size bed, and a nice comfy sofa. Space for all three of you. Only a hundred and thirty dollars a night, and that fee includes a special Christmas meal from the buffet. Definitely worth your money!”

Dean cleared his throat, catching Sam’s attention. Dean bugged his eyes, wordlessly expressing his disapproval of the price.

But Castiel either didn’t hear the pointed throat-clear, nor did he sense Dean’s instinct to barter for a different price, because he stepped forward and placed the credit card down on the desktop. “That sounds like a good deal.”

Dean gritted his teeth and scowled. “Remind me to explain what a good deal sounds like someday, Cas.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder and peered at Dean with his innocent blue eyes. “But it’s Christmas, Dean. Don’t you think it would be satisfying to have something clean for once?”

Dean’s frown cleared away and he looked down at the polished wood floor, admitting defeat. He’d give nearly anything not to have to sleep between a sour-smelling bedspread and a crusty pillow ever again. Even just a few nights of luxury would be bliss.

Janine took the credit card, then clucked. “Oh. It’s great to run into a fellow Brit, Mr. Hchsuwelln—”

“Gesundheit,” Castiel said.

Janine frowned. It was quiet for a moment, then Sam laughed, and Dean realised what had happened. He grinned, stepping forward and putting his hand on Cas’ back, shaking his head at Janine. “That’s his idea of a joke,” Dean explained, watching Janine’s face wrinkle up in a smile once she understood. Dean chuckled, gazing at the side of Castiel’s bewildered face. Cas looked at Dean, and Dean grinned back, patting him again. “Go pay for the room, Mr. Daniel Llewellyn,” Dean muttered to Cas, with spoken emphasis on the Welsh name that was printed on the card. It wasn’t pronounced like it was written.

Castiel took a breath of realisation, then nodded.

“But that’s the thing,” Janine said, eyes skipping from Cas to Dean, then back again. “We don’t take credit here. Debit or cash only, I’m afraid.”

Dean sighed, then looked back at Sam. Sam was already reaching for his wallet, so Dean didn’t suggest they get in the car and drive somewhere else instead. Perhaps Sam wanted to stay as much as Dean did. He could smell baking cookies, and that was incentive enough.

“Forty... Sixty,” Sam started putting cash on the desk. “Eighty. Uh...” He rummaged in the coin section of his wallet, pulling out two dollars in dimes.

Dean chewed his tongue and got out his own wallet, pulling another fifty bucks from inside. He took back the coins, and kept his face stony as he watched all the cash swept into Janine’s wrinkled hands, her fingers decorated with maroon nail polish and a silver wedding ring.

Janine pottered around behind her desk, picking up paperwork and a set of keys. She scribbled something on the paper, then handed it to Sam. “If it isn’t too much trouble, would the three of you mind taking off your shoes before you head up the stairs? It’s just that you’re really quite muddy...”

Dean looked down at himself, then back at Janine, smiling sheepishly. She wasn’t demanding an explanation for the graveyard dirt, and Dean was grateful.

“Rooms are up the stairs on your right,” Janine said, gesturing to her left, where a square staircase led upwards, its walls made of smooth grey stone. “You’re right at the tippy-top, just keep going until the stairs run out. Merry Christmas!”

“Thanks,” Sam said, taking the key.

“I’ll go get our stuff,” Dean said, turning for the front door.

Three minutes later, Dean was thoroughly out of puff, weighed down with far too many bags, having climbed far too many stairs, each of which were far too tall. He raised a tired arm and rapped his knuckles on the white door before him.

Castiel opened the door, saw Dean and smiled. “Come in,” he said, beckoning. “I think you’ll like it here.”

Entering from the gloom and going into the warm light, the whole room seemed radiant to Dean. Two windows stuck out beyond the slanted wall directly ahead, their curtains drawn back and pinned, so Dean could see that the window seats overlooked the night-time village and its sparkling coloured lights. In between the windows was a faux fireplace, painted in a darker beige than the rest of the walls, with an angel statuette sitting on the mantle, and a cafe-style table with two chairs in front of it. A wardrobe (big enough to hide a lot of bodies) covered the whole left wall, except for a nook where a small TV resided. Each wardrobe door was embellished with ornate decorations painted in gold. A sofa was tucked into the far right corner of the room, striped in two shades of ivory. The king-size bed they were promised took up a good portion of the room on the right, draped in white and decorated with more pillows than they could possibly need.

Dean dumped his shoes and all the bags where he stood, and he ran straight to the bed and dove into the pillows with a yelp of delight. He laughed as he sank down between them, his grin growing broader as he inhaled the fresh smell of actual laundry detergent. It smelled like the laundry room when Dean was a kid, when Mary used to pin up Sammy’s baby clothes and Dean would sit to watch them drip into the sink.

Dean rolled over and stared at the ceiling, feeling more pleased than he had in months, maybe years.

“There was no mint on the pillow,” Sam said, sitting down on the end of the bed to pull off his dirty socks, “but there were a couple of wash-cloths and soaps, all wrapped up in ribbons. I put them in the bathroom. There’s an actual bath in there, by the way. Full-sized tub.”

“Awesome,” Dean whispered, shutting his eyes against the light. Chandeliers glowed above him, delicate like nothing else.

This was probably what happiness felt like.

Castiel made a thoughtful noise. “I will most likely require sleep tonight. But there’s only room for two people in the bed, and there are three of us.”

Dean opened his eyes, a stunned chill now sprinting through his veins. Until this moment he’d forgotten what it was like when he and Sam shared a bed. Once asleep, Sam would spread out and kick at any foreign objects in his space, all of which tended to be Dean. Dean had sworn years ago he would never share Sam’s bed again if he could help it. But that wasn’t what occupied Dean’s mind so suddenly; the real issue was that either Dean was sleeping with Sam tonight, or Sam was sleeping with Cas, or Cas was sleeping with Dean, and all three of those options made Dean uneasy.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Sam said. Dean sat up, watching the other two with his head and belly full of bristly insecurities. Sam shrugged, standing up to stretch. “It’s only seven o’clock – we’re grown adults, we can stay up ‘til midnight on Christmas Eve if we want. We’ll decide then.” He grinned at Cas, and Cas frowned back.

“What’s at midnight on Christmas Eve?” Castiel asked.

“Santa,” Dean said. His smile chased away his worry, so he let the smile stay. “At midnight Santa comes down the chimney and leaves presents for all the kids in the world.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “I remember that lore. The logistics of the whole scenario seem improbable. Even as an angel I couldn’t be in more than once place at once. Gabriel,” he tilted his head, “Perhaps he could. But I don’t see Gabriel as the type to deliver gifts, not without disastrous repercussions.”

Dean shuffled to the end of the bed and poked Cas’ hand with his socked foot. “It’s a story, Cas. Not real.”

“Says you,” Sam said, grinning as he perched on the couch, his large frame dwarfing its prissy arm supports and thin legs. “The anti-Claus is big in mythology world-over. But I always liked the idea that there’s a real Santa somewhere out there – reindeer and sleigh included.”

Dean smirked and flopped back into the numerous pillows, hearing Castiel’s quiet reply of, “How peculiar.”

Dean took a thirty-second nap. Sam and Cas’ voices faded into the background for a while, and it was nice. The bed was super comfy, especially with all the pillows.

Then Dean’s stomach rumbled. He popped up off the bed, declared, “I’m going out; gotta stock up on food or we’ll be hungry tomorrow,” then he put his boots on and swept out of the room with purpose.

Ten seconds later he was back. He needed the bathroom first, and he needed to borrow that credit card, or nobody would be eating anything anytime soon.

Sam came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, feeling totally relaxed. His shoulders didn’t even ache after digging up a frozen grave only hours previously, and that was kind of impressive. He rooted around in his duffel bag until he found clean underwear, then he tossed away his towel to put fresh clothes on.

Castiel was sitting at the end of the bed, facing away, still wearing his trenchcoat while he channel-surfed.

The TV was a small, boxy object. It was not the only outdated thing in the room by any means, but it was certainly the only thing that was obvious about its age. Everything else was classic.

“—this Christmas,” said the TV. “—gift box—show your love—best prices this holiday season!—your loved one—”

Castiel hesitated before changing yet another channel – and when he pressed the button, he pressed the other one immediately after to bring the last channel back.

Sam pulled a t-shirt over his head and watched the screen beyond Castiel’s shoulder, seeing a red velvet background with a silver pendant resting on it, the necklace chain being caressed by someone’s slender fingers. A feminine voice oozed from the speakers, coming out dull, but still enticing: “—and you want to treat your loved one this Christmas.” The commercial ended, and cut straight into another one. Castiel changed the channel.

Sam sat on the side of the bed and opened the drawer in the nightstand, discovering a writing pad, a pen and a King James Bible. He shut the drawer, then looked under the bed. Not even a dust bunny.

Sam sighed and sat on the bed again. He turned to his bag and pulled out his laptop, opening the lid and powering up the machine, reaching for the charger cable while he waited for his programs to start.

“—last chance to buy—show your appreciation—something extra-special—”

Sam leaned back against the bed’s headboard, legs stretched out towards Castiel. He gazed past his laptop screen, wondering what was going through Castiel’s mind.

“—the one you love—New Year—” Castiel sat up straighter, thumbing the button so the channel flicked back, “—get him the best that money can buy, at Minnesota’s favourite jeweller. Open late Christmas Eve.” Another commercial came on, but Castiel muted the sound.

Then he sighed.

“What’s up, Cas?” Sam asked, setting his laptop aside. Dean was usually the one who knew when Castiel’s mind was stifled with too many thoughts, but Sam wasn’t too bad at noticing either. His suspicions were confirmed when Cas turned halfway around, a frown giving his profile a more somber line.

“Have you... purchased a gift for Dean?” Castiel asked, turning around further so his eyes met Sam’s. He seemed slightly worried. “I haven’t bought anything for him.”

Sam considered the sensational language that the commercials used, then considered which of those commercials had caught Castiel’s attention. Sam could add two and two. It seemed like Cas already knew what to get Dean, but wasn’t sure if he would be overstepping the bounds of their relationship in giving it to him.

Sam took a breath, smiling as he exhaled. “I did get Dean something. A few things, actually. What, uh...” He cleared his throat. “What sort of thing were you thinking of getting him?”

Castiel lowered his eyes to the bedspread, fingers twisting around the TV remote. “I don’t know.”

“What do you think he would like?”

Castiel shrugged, eyes still down. “I don’t know.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Cas, you trail after him practically every second of the day, plastered to his side more often than not. There’s got to be something you think he likes.”

Castiel shut his eyes, turning his face back towards the TV. He was quiet.

Sam got off the bed and made his way to the end of it, sitting down on Castiel’s left. Sam looked at Castiel carefully. His always-downturned mouth was pinched in a nervous line, his eyes lifted to gaze at the TV.

Sam looked at the TV too, observing a muted scene from that Spanish soap opera Dean once forgot to pretend he didn’t like. Bobby used to like it too, Sam recalled. On screen, a man slid an engagement ring onto a woman’s finger.

Castiel sighed wistfully.

Sam smirked.

“Hey, Cas,” he said gently.

“Hm?”

“Maybe get Dean something... something he doesn’t realise he wants. Something he would never say aloud that he wants.”

“How am I meant to know what that is?” Castiel asked, using his confused squint to emphasise his cluelessness. “If he doesn’t say it out loud, how am I supposed to guess?

Sam took a deep breath, staring at the TV screen. “You’ll work it out. Consciously or unconsciously, I think you want the same thing.” He looked back at Castiel and held his eye. “Bear in mind, a gift doesn’t have to be bought in a store. It can be anything. Maybe a... personal gesture, or a promise of some kind.”

He left Cas sitting on the bed in silence, patting his shoulder as he went. Hopefully he would understand soon enough.

The door thumped open, surprising Sam. The first thing he saw was an armful of grocery bags staggering into the room, and only when the grocery bags let out a breath and said “A little help?” did Sam put his laptop aside to assist his brother.

“How much stuff did you get?” Sam said, frowning as he relieved Dean of a box of Fruit Loops, a carton of milk, roasted potatoes in a plastic tub and a sprig of fresh leeks. “We don’t have a fridge, the perishables will go bad.”

“Did you forget it’s twenty-five degrees outside?” Dean scoffed, handing a pot of butter to Castiel, who stood up slowly from the bed so as not to unbalance the groceries. “Just shove this stuff out on the window ledge and we’re all good.”

“Why do we need baby wipes?” Castiel asked, examining a packet. “We don’t have a baby.”

Dean snatched the packet away, glaring without much heat. “Clearly you haven’t been on the road with us long enough,” he said, shoving the packet into his duffel bag, then going back to emptying the paper sacks. “Showers are kinda hard to come by when you’re in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere.”

Castiel looked increasingly confused when Dean snatched toilet paper out of his hands too. “Dean, there isn’t a place called Buttfuck— We have toilet paper in the bathroom— You don’t even like sprouts.”

“They’re for later! And I’m doing Christmas, all right?!” Dean snapped, batting at Castiel with a pack of ready-made stuffing. “I know Kevin’s not here and we don’t have an oven, but I’m making do with what we have. If we’re gonna sit tight and wait ‘til the road clears, we might as well enjoy it.”

Sam smiled, then peeled back the paper wrap that covered something spiky and green. “Oh,” he said. “Dean, you got a tree?”

“Just a little one,” Dean said defensively. “It’s plastic and bendy!”

Castiel stood and stared, a perplexed frown making up most of his expression.

Sam grinned at him. “We can decorate it. C’mon, Cas, it’ll be fun.”

“...Fun,” Castiel echoed. He squinted harder.

Dean laughed, reaching up to cup Castiel’s jaw with his hand. “God, you are just the most clueless angel in all the garrison. Hell knows how I got landed with you.” He let Castiel’s face go, but not before he swiped at his nose with his fingertips, making Cas blink reflexively.

Dean turned towards Sam, his eyes enlivened and a pink blush on his cheeks. “Sammy, you go get those ribbons off the soap. I’mma make a tree topper out of...” he looked at all the packaged food that littered the bed, “something.” He turned back to Cas, poking him in the chest. “You, go make some paper chains out of these paper bags. I got glue sticks!” He produced scissors and glue from one of the bags, followed by coloured marker pens. He handed them to Castiel, who fumbled as he took them.

“Man,” Dean said with a sigh, putting his hands on his hips. “We’re going to make this the best Christmas ever.”

Sam, feeling a swell of anticipation and the suspicion that Dean might actually be right, patted Dean on the back and went to get the ribbons.

They sat in a circle. Sam was on the couch, Dean on the bed, and Cas hunched cross-legged on the floor. The tree was placed between them like a somewhat tacky shrine, its poseable branches raised into a triangular Christmas-tree shape.

Castiel’s patch of carpet was covered in paper bag confetti, and every minute or so, he switched out marker pens and picked a new colour, making up another link in his paper chains. He said he liked the process, and he was smiling when he said so. “It’s repetitive. There’s something... calming about it. And I like the sound the paper makes when I move the pen on it.”

Dean didn’t say a single thing about Castiel being a freak or a weirdo, and that made Sam smile. In fact, when Sam looked up, Dean was wearing a full smile, cheeks round and eyes crinkled. His eyes were set on Cas, and Cas wasn’t even looking back. Sam looked away before Dean could notice he’d been spotted.

Sam made a neat bow out of one white ribbon, but Dean hijacked the second ribbon and re-tied both, so now the pair of them looked like something out of a Disney cartoon.

Sam narrowed his eyes, watching Dean stick the bows to the tree. “How do you know how to do that with ribbons?” he asked. “Dad definitely didn’t teach you that.”

“None of your business,” Dean said, jabbing a finger in Sam’s direction. “Not one bit of this kindergarten class ever leaves this room. As soon as the road clears and we can get out of here, we go back to slaughtering monsters and ignoring our feelings. We don’t ever mention ribbons again. Capiche?”

Sam chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, okay, whatever. Didn’t mean to question that ever-so-fragile masculinity of yours.”

Dean flushed, lips moving around a rush of ill-formed comebacks that never left his mouth. He turned his eyes down and returned to making baubles out of tinfoil. Sam restrained his laugh, but went on smiling fondly in Dean’s direction.

Without any difficulty at all, Dean worked out how to make a star for the top of the tree using cardboard and a well-executed combination of folding, cutting and pencil-stabbing. “Only looks good from one side,” he mused, turning the tree back and forth on its perch. “Whatever, we can put it in a corner.”

“Last one,” Castiel said, reaching forward to add a paper chain so short it was barely a chain at all. “This one represents the three of us. Do you see?” He pointed to the yellow link on the left. “That one’s me.”

“Yellow like your coat?” Dean asked with a wrinkled brow. Sam could see how that made sense; the yellow marker on the brown paper made the link the same colour as Castiel’s tan trenchcoat.

“Exactly,” Castiel said, excessive softness in his voice. He gazed at Dean, eyes shining.

Dean licked his lips, gaze never straying from Castiel’s. “And... uh. What’re the other two?”

“That’s me,” Sam said with a wide, wide grin. He pointed to the one on the far right of the three-link chain. “Cas did a plaid pattern.”

Dean scoffed. “Obviously. I thought that was for, like, a lumberjack.”

Sam snorted. “I’m guessing the middle one’s you.”

Dean craned around the tree to look at the centre link. “Uh.” He pressed his lips together, then licked them apart. “It’s... uh... It’s got a little... heart... on it.”

Castiel lowered his eyes. “Like you said,” he muttered, “None of what we discuss or reveal about ourselves will leave this room once we head back home.” He lifted his gaze and set it on Dean’s, a slow eagerness in his expression, like he was trying to be open but holding back at the same time. “I thought you might want to know how I see you.”

“You,” Dean blinked five times, “You see me with a little heart?”

“The green marker pen represents your aura. Green like flourishing life, and your eyes. And the heart—”

“Wait, hang on— My aura? Like, the thing psychics see?”

“I see it too,” Castiel said gently, with a tip of his head. “But I didn’t colour in the heart symbol, I left that blank.”

“So I’m heartless?! Great. Sam gets a plaid-patterned aura and I get a hole where my heart should be?”

“No— No, Dean,” Castiel leaned into Dean’s space, shaking his head. “Your heart is open. Giving. You give your heart to others. Look, Sam’s plaid has some of your green.”

Sam wondered if Castiel’s yellow link had some green too, but from what he could see, it was plain yellow. Either way, Dean didn’t ask about the absence of green on the yellow link – nor did he reply at all, for that matter. He focused his eyes across the room, lower lip tucking back towards his teeth. He nodded, shook his head, then got up and walked away.

Castiel caught Sam’s eye, and Sam saw he was worried, so shook his head to ease him. “Talking about emotional stuff isn’t exactly his favourite thing, you know that.”

Castiel pressed his lips together, nodding. “I know. He just seemed so happy. I thought he’d...” His sentence trailed off, and his eyes drifted from Sam’s.

Sam rested a hand on Castiel’s knee and leaned closer, voice low as he said, “Take it slow, and don’t rush him. Even if you don’t get to ask the big question before we leave here, that’s okay. Okay? It’s still progress.”

Castiel looked back at Sam as if he wasn’t sure what he meant, but Sam knew better. Cas liked to pretend he didn’t get things when he knew perfectly well how everything worked. It was fun for Cas to make Dean explain, that was Sam’s theory. ‘Playing dumb’ was the phrase that leapt to mind. It was a courting tactic.

“Also,” Sam added, smiling and retrieving his hand from Castiel’s knee, giving him one last pat, “you should be as smart as you want around him. Dean’s clever, he’s not gonna feel unintelligent because you don’t need his help for everything.” He nodded deeply, convinced it was good advice. “Just be yourself.”

“What are you two talkin’ about?” Dean interrupted, calling from near the bathroom door. “I can see you, don’t think I can’t tell when you’re talking about me.”

“We’re comparing ribbon-tying techniques,” Sam called over his shoulder, grinning when Dean scowled. “You should join us, you clearly know more than both of us put together.”

“Shut up,” Dean said. “I’m going in the shower, I still smell like dead people.” He took clothes from his duffel bag and shut himself into the bathroom. A moment later the main room filled with the sound of the shower spray hitting the bathtub.

Sam sighed, leaning back into the couch. He stared at the tree and its three most prominent decorations, the Cas-link, the Dean-link, and the Sam-link.

Sam smiled.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked as Sam pulled the links off the tree and onto his lap. “Sam, why are you taking yours apart?”

“Relax,” Sam said, smirking. The glue came undone easily; it was still fresh and hadn’t dried yet. He slid the one end of the plaid-patterned link through the yellow link, and then closed it up again, pressing it tight so it would stick. “Much better. The Cas-link and the Sam-link are friends too.”

Sam put the links back on the tree. They were a bit jumbled now, as they were too closely linked, but the meaning of them was all that mattered.

Sam looked down at where the angel knelt, and saw the doe-eyed look of appreciation and awe on his face. Sam couldn’t help but snuffle out a laugh, and when Cas looked up at him, he smiled warmly.

Castiel smiled back, nodding to Sam. “Best friends.”

“There’s barely any hot water left,” Dean grouched the moment he left the bathroom. “We paid for hot water, dammit, that shit’s not meant to run out.” He saw Sam and Cas sitting on the bed together, Sam’s laptop on his knee.

“You were in there for half an hour, Dean,” Sam said, looking up from his screen. “Nobody else is surprised the hot water’s gone.” Something on the laptop babbled audibly, and Sam grinned, looking down at the screen again. “Pfh, yeah. He’s high-maintenance. He’s gonna do a manicure now his skin’s all softened up.”

Dean tucked his nail clipper back into his toiletry pouch, feeling unfairly spotlighted. “It’s called a manicure for a reason,” he muttered to himself. He raised his voice to ask, “Who’re you two talking to?”

Castiel looked up, a pleasant smile on his face. He’d taken his trenchcoat off for the first time since yesterday, and he looked at ease, shirt sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned to his clavicle. “Sam and I are using a video program to converse with Charlie.” He squinted at the screen, then looked back at Dean. “It’s called Sky-pee.”

Dean’s face crumpled up and he folded over in half, laughter spluttering out of him, almost in sync with Sam’s guffaws. Dean straightened up when he heard Charlie snickering too – but Dean quit laughing when he heard Kevin’s laugh as well. Dean shoved a clean t-shirt over his head and rushed towards the bed. “You’re on conference? Can you tell Kevin—”

He got to Sam’s side of the bed and gasped when he saw the screen. Kevin and Charlie were in the same room, using the same webcam. “Charlie!” Dean bent forward over Sam’s lap so his face leaned into view of Sam’s webcam. “You’re at the bunker!”

“‘Course I am,” Charlie said, tucking her red hair behind her ears. “Wasn’t gonna let you have Christmas without me, now, was I? Too bad you buttfaces are stuck in Minnesota. Guess I’ll just have to enjoy Mr. Tran here all by my lonesome!” She wrapped her arms around Kevin’s shoulders and squeezed, making Kevin squawk and laugh at the same time.

Dean smiled, feeling an ache in his shoulder from his weird position but doing nothing about it. He could see his own face in the corner of the screen; his face hung sideways, and his skin was a healthy pink from his shower. He grinned, watching Kevin and Charlie bat at each other like children. “Cute haircut,” Dean said to Charlie.

“Oh, this?” Charlie touched her spiky hair, shoving Kevin in the face with her other hand. “Pixie cut. You can’t go to a few fairy realms without bringing something back with you.”

“She got me a gun!” Kevin said. “It shoots actual rocks. And she invented a whole different tabletop game, it’s kind of addictive.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned. “Hey, while you’re there, Kev...” A fidgety nervousness flitted through Dean’s system. “Did you find your Christmas present yet?”

Kevin stopped interacting with Charlie to stare at the screen. “You got me something?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, accepting the laptop as Sam handed it to him. He carried it to the couch and sat down, angling the screen up so his face was in view of the webcam, even if it wasn’t the most flattering angle. “Yeah, uh— I left it at the bunker, in case we didn’t get back in time.”

“Wow. Wasn’t... expecting that. You gonna tell me where it is?”

“God no,” Dean laughed. “You find it yourself and then I’ll know you’re worthy.”

“Treasure hunt!” Charlie squealed. “This bunker is enormous, we’re never going to find it.”

Sam came and leaned into the frame too, making Dean lean away. “You will,” Sam assured Charlie. “Both of you are amazing trackers.”

“That’s our inner Hufflepuffs talking,” Charlie said, making Sam laugh. Dean didn’t laugh in case Sam noticed he got the reference. “We’ll find it before tomorrow, for sure.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t count on it. I didn’t exactly make it easy.”

“Oooh,” Kevin and Charlie said at once, meeting each other’s eyes. Then they laughed, and high-fived.

Charlie turned to the screen and winked. “We’ll find that little bugger.”

“You’d better.” Dean pursed his lips, withholding the fact that there was a gift there for Charlie too. He leaned over Sam and handed the laptop to Castiel, who looked surprised that it was his turn.

“If I may,” Castiel said, looking towards Dean, “I’d like to give them a clue.”

“Yes, a clue!” Charlie shouted. “Clue! Clue! Clue!” Kevin joined in the chant, and Sam laughed so loudly that Dean shoved him away and sat on the bed next to Cas.

“I didn’t see Dean hide the gift,” Castiel said, smiling at the screen, “but I can assume he would hide it somewhere high up. You’re both much shorter than him, he probably thought you’d never bother looking higher than you can reach.”

Dean wrinkled his lips, trying not to give anything away. A smile kept emerging on his face whenever he wasn’t expecting it, and staring at the side of Castiel’s face just made it worse. Castiel looked so goddamn pleased with himself. He met Dean’s eye and held it, smiling sweetly at him. Dean lost track of everything else for a moment, just basking in that smile, and that weightless feeling that always seemed to take hold of him when Cas was happy.

Kevin cleared his throat loudly. “Not to interrupt your moment or anything, but we’d really like to get a head start with this whole gift-hunting thing.”

Dean took a breath and looked at the screen. “Oh, Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yep. You... go do that.” Why was he all flustered now? Probably dehydrated after his shower, that was all. He managed a smile, which became perfectly genuine when Charlie saluted him. “Enjoy your treasure hunt, explorers.”

“You guys enjoy your – um, heh-heh – domestic bliss,” Kevin said, then exploded into a horrible giggle when Charlie chortled, and both of them laughed their way to ending the Skype call. Their faces and the bunker’s library were replaced with a final blue screen.

Dean exited the call window, feeling unnerved by the laughter that still replayed like a stuck record in his head. It seemed like they were teasing him, just like Sam was earlier. Dean didn’t think Christmas could be all that enjoyable if he felt like he was continuously being poked at, or nudged in one direction or another. He wished everyone would just stop already.

Closing the laptop lid, Dean slid the machine over to Sam, who opened it again.

“Dean?” Castiel asked softly. “Are you okay?”

Dean glanced his way but didn’t meet his eye. “What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He slid off the bed and rubbed the nape of his neck with his hand. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Sam said.

Dean sighed. “I’m gonna go... drive around for a bit. Get some gas for the car, and dig up some more cash in case of... something. I don’t know.” He meandered to the end of the bed and stuck his feet into his boots, reaching for his car keys, an extra layer and his outer jacket. “If you guys head to bed, don’t wait up.” He gave a quick smile, trying to look as happy as he ought to be.

He made his way to the door, feeling eyes on his back.

The landing at the top of the stairs was dark once he shut himself in the hallway. He stood and took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips.

God, he just needed some air. Everything about their current situation should’ve made him relax, take a load off. The pressure was non-existent. But Dean felt more uneasy and more insecure than usual, despite the fact he’d been trying so hard to accept himself these past few months. It seemed like everyone he cared about knew something about him that he wasn’t yet ready to know himself. But what made it worse was the awareness that he already knew exactly what he didn’t want to know.

A drive should help him work things out. If it didn’t, Christmas this year might suck as bad as it always did before.

“Well, that was sudden,” Sam said, staring at the closed door. Dean’s footsteps started quiet and got even quieter as he went down the stairs. “Is it me, or does Dean seem kind of... on edge?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “And I think we both know why.”

Sam looked up, surprised to see a significant awareness on Castiel’s face. He wasn’t playing that Clueless Baby Angel game any more, at least not around Sam. Sam gave him a grim smile and nodded. “Would it be better to ease up on the hints? Or lay them on so thick he can’t avoid it any more?”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Castiel said sadly. “Or come on so strong he shuts down.”

Sam sucked on the soft flesh of his lips, considering the dilemma. “What about sleeping arrangements? I could take the couch, you and Dean could share the bed. It’s innocent enough, right?”

Castiel’s face turned a faint pink, eyes cast down and away. Breathless, he said, “I don’t— I, um. I don’t think I can...”

Sam chuckled, amazed that someone who looked like a grown man could fluster like a girl in her teens. “All right, so that’s out. You and I take the bed, Dean takes the couch.”

Castiel’s eyes shot to Sam’s, and his eye contact was incredibly intense. Sam couldn’t imagine how Dean withstood such scrutiny for so many years; it was like Cas had crawled down Sam’s throat and sat inside him to feel him breathing. It was bizarre, and extremely uncomfortable.

Finally, Castiel spoke: “I mean you no offence, Sam, but I would rather not sleep beside you.”

Sam’s mouth slid open. The two of them were platonic friends – so what was the problem? It wasn’t like anything would happen.

Castiel’s gaze flittered away. “Perhaps I ought to explain. My angel grace... It’s weakening, and every day I become more human. Sleep – that was one of the first things that overcame me. Sleep, and dreams.” He locked his fingers together, setting them upon his knees. “When my human body loses consciousness, my angelic mind takes over. What’s left of it does, anyway. My dreams are never just dreams. I feel what’s beneath me; I feel the history of the earth I sleep on, the growing plant fibres of my bedsheets, the tree from which the wood of my bed was grown. Everything I touch in sleep enters my mind, and – for lack of a better word – I absorb it.” He turned his eyes back to Sam’s, and pushed up a small smile. “Do you understand?”

“You’re saying if I slept beside you, if our hands brushed or something, then you’d see inside my soul?”

“After a few hours, yes. It seems to takes a long exposure before it happens. If we... held hands. While I slept. Then, yes.”

Sam wrinkled his nose, and Castiel shifted in his seat, sharing Sam’s discomfort at the thought. “So I take it you don’t want to see my soul,” Sam said. “Me being an abomination and all.”

Castiel tilted his head, pondering. “No, that’s not it. I feel... you deserve privacy. If I lay beside you I might learn things about you that you never wanted me to know. In these past years, being on Earth with you and Dean, I’ve learned a lot. One thing I’ve learned is the value of secrets. Even those which have no malicious intent.” He smiled, lowering his chin to his chest. “I enjoy holding things in my mind which nobody else knows. Sometimes, they’re beautiful things. Beautiful feelings.” He glanced at Sam, saw his smile, and smiled back.

“I shall sleep on the couch,” Castiel said. “You and Dean will have to share. When I’ve fallen completely, perhaps then I will know what a dream is like for you. Until then, night-time shall continue to overwhelm me.”

“Have you tried herbal tea?” Sam asked. When he saw the blank expression and raised eyebrow on Castiel’s face, he grinned away the suggestion. “Sorry. Just a thought.”

Castiel stood, and moved closer to Sam to put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Sam. You and Dean have made Christmas into an experience I never want to forget.”

“It’s still Christmas Eve,” Sam said. “So long as nothing goes wrong, tomorrow’s bound to be even better.”

Castiel’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Then, Sam, I very much hope that nothing goes wrong.”

Castiel woke up in darkness. It took him several seconds to work out where he was. First came awareness of the couch cushions under him, the dipped seam between the two seats. Then he saw light, faded blue, illuminating two separate curtains with squares of moonlight. He was in the attic room of a B&B in Minnesota. He must have fallen asleep; a blanket had been draped over him, thick and woollen. Castiel pushed it back, feeling an echo of Dean in the blanket, on the couch. On Castiel’s cheek.

Dean had covered him with the blanket, and touched his cheek as he slept.

Castiel’s heart raced at the knowledge, and he swung his legs to the floor, socked feet to the carpet, trying to control his breath. His pupils became too dilated, and he could see everything. He watched the crackle of static as it shivered up from the floor towards the TV, the tremble of the roof as another clump of snow slid off its tiles. He heard the Earth revolving on its axis, spiralling across the galaxy at fearsome speed.

He turned his head; he could smell the breath of the two brothers asleep in the bed next to him, he could hear their stomach digesting store-bought roast potatoes and just-add-water stuffing.

Dean snored out a rumbly noise, then whimpered and shuffled closer to Sam, slapping a clumsy hand over his brother’s shoulders. He snored again, exhaled... then snored once more. Overindulgence, Castiel supposed. Dean may have been slender in appearance, but under his layered shirts he was far from toned. Castiel smiled to himself, listening to Dean’s belly gurgle in his sleep.

The gurgle morphed into a jingle – jingle-jingle-jingle like a bell – but then Castiel realised it wasn’t the same noise at all. The jingling was coming from above, from the roof. He looked up at the ceiling, staring.

A thump came down, then another. The sound of footsteps pattered about—

Wait, those weren’t footsteps. Those were animal hooves. Reindeer, if Castiel had to take a guess. A flare of excitement filled him, and he leapt from the couch, childish glee forcing his steps towards the door. He paused at the foot of the bed, peering down at Dean and Sam. Should he wake them? Would they want to see?

He decided against it. As far as he knew, reindeer weren’t brave creatures, and Castiel didn’t want to scare them. One person would be enough.

He left the room as quietly as possible, discovering a set of stairs from the landing that he hadn’t noticed on the way in. These ones went up, and there was a door at the top. Light bled around all four of its sides; from beyond it came the jingle-jingle-jingle of Santa’s sleigh bells. Castiel climbed towards it, eager to ask Santa how he delivered so many presents in one night.

Dean snuffled awake, slapping cold drool away from his chin. “Mhhcas?” he slurred. He felt a draft, and it smelt like Castiel’s underarm sweat. It was probably weird that Dean recognised that smell but it was a nice smell, in a way.

He blinked his eyes open, wriggling his nose. He rolled towards the nightstand and reached out to hit a random button on his phone. The screen said it was two in the morning. Two a.m. on Christmas Day. Dean smiled.

He dragged himself out of bed, shuffling towards the toilet. He glanced towards Castiel’s couch, but the blanket was missing its lump. “Cas?” he called under his breath. No reply; Castiel was probably in the bathroom.

Dean got to the bathroom door and knocked on the wood. “Cas, how long you gonna be?”

No answer. “Cas?” Dean tapped the door again, but it creaked on its hinges. Dean nudged it, and it swung open, dark inside.

“Huh,” Dean said. Weird. First things first, though; he’d find Cas in a minute.

When Dean had done his business (and washed the drool off his face), he left the bathroom and looked around the room again in case Cas was lurking in a shadow somewhere, like the creeper he used to be years ago. Dean was really glad they’d gotten past that awkward bump in their relationship. Cas standing over Dean, staring at him as he slept... it was uncomfortable to think about, even nowadays. Okay, Dean had done the same thing only a couple of hours ago – but that was completely different. Dean had examined some very in-depth thoughts while he’d taken his drive, and if any of those thoughts made him want to make sure Cas was comfortable, protected, and loved, then they were evidently important thoughts.

But Cas wasn’t lurking in a shadow, so Dean moved on to other options, and other thoughts. He turned towards the door— The door was already open. Cas must have left. Why would he leave the door open, though?

Dean put on his jeans and boots, then grabbed his jacket. As an extra precaution, he also took his 1911 pistol, gripped in his hand like it belonged there. The thing was weighty; it wasn’t fully loaded, but if need be, Dean could still clobber an attacker over the head.

He left the room and entered the hallway, leaving the door resting closed but not clicked shut. He breathed quietly, listening. He heard someone running a shower two stories below, and he heard someone laugh, but he sensed nothing that indicated Castiel’s presence.

Taking a step forward, he stepped on something soft and squishy. Looking down, he lifted his boot and discovered a sock. A black one, with holes in the toe and the heel. That was one of Jimmy’s socks. “Damn, Cas,” Dean said under his breath. “I think it’s about time we took you to Target.”

Dean picked up the sock (still warm) and put it in his pocket. He squinted down the staircase, unable to see anything but black. He could almost hear the stairs, though. There was a great deal of life and history and love in this building. Dean didn’t even have extrasensory powers like Castiel did, yet he could sense something spectacular in the walls.

Dean took a cautious step down the stairs, wondering if Castiel even went this way. He got five steps down, and stepped on a second sock. Good, he thought. He was going the same way as Cas had.

Castiel stood on the roof, shivering in the cold. Moonlight graced the fresh snow across the flat crown of the building, giving it a magnificent white aura. Even in the middle of the night it was as bright as daytime here.

Castiel still felt the tingle in his fingers from opening the door to the roof. It had been locked, so he’d used a spark of grace to open it, and now he felt weakened – and guilty. He shouldn’t have been so keen. It was nothing but a children’s story, after all.

...Or was it?

Castiel crouched, fingers reaching for the disturbance he saw in the snow. The snow was so cold it bit at his fingers, and he withdrew his hand before he messed up the hoofprint before him. It had a cloven shape. Big enough for a reindeer, he imagined.

“Cas!” Dean kept his voice quiet. He didn’t want to wake anyone else up, but he wanted Castiel to hear him, so he projected a whispered shout. “Cas! Where the hell are you, man?”

He made it down to the first floor, where all the lights were off. Janine’s front desk hid in muted shades of blue, shadows creeping up the stone walls in sharp angles. No sign of Cas.

Dean slunk past the desk and through the next door, finding the buffet table. A white cloth covered it, sweeping to the ballroom floor. There were no platters of food yet, but Dean had no doubt the table would be piled with a Christmas feast, come daylight. The chef would probably head for the kitchen in no more than an hour from now.

Dean lowered his gun for a minute, admiring the moonlight streaming through the panelled windows at the far side of the hall. A dozen dining tables with white tablecloths dotted the expansive space, each circle reflecting the light like they were full moons themselves. It was so damn elegant. Dean’s first thought was that this place would make a beautiful wedding venue. Immediately, he felt a pang of longing, then of sorrow, followed by shame.

With a frown, he turned away from the windows, glad nobody could see the conflict on his face.

He felt a draft, cool and fresh. With a flicker of interest, Dean looked back towards the windows. No, not there – the other side. He looked to the next wall along, at a right angle from the first. There, a frosted winter garden was visible through fluttering chiffon curtains, gleams and sparkles of snow coming down white against the navy backdrop of night. Dean’s breath left him, not only because of the astonishing splendor in his sight, but because he could see a person standing in the snow, his dark hair freckled with icy flakes, his exposed skin made pale by the cold.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, kicking himself to a jog, heading straight for the open glass panel. He turned sideways and skipped through the gap, fingers catching on soft chiffon as he did. “Cas!”

The group of sleigh-tethered reindeer stood quietly before Castiel, some nosing at the snow on the roof, some waiting for Santa to come back. Castiel smiled in a solemn kind of joy, lifting a hand to touch the nose of the most curious animal. Its antlers jingled with red bells, dangling like baubles from tree branches. Its nose wriggled, soft and warm and wide as it sniffed Castiel’s palm.

Castiel gasped slowly. Amazement made him prickle from the roots of his hair all the way down to his toes. He couldn’t feel the cold; all he felt was the breath of the beast before him. Its brown eyes were full of comprehension; it knew what Castiel was, just as Castiel knew what it was. Magical. Their forms touched and they were both impossible.

“Cas!”

Castiel turned around, expecting to see Santa. But a flurry of snow hit him square in the face and he couldn’t see anything for a while. He felt a warm hand touch his shoulder, gentle but reassuring. He blinked away the snow, and saw...

“Dean?”

“Cas,” Dean breathed. “God, you’re freezing—” He looked down at Castiel’s body, then back to his face in alarm. “You went out in the snow in your skivvies? What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I heard the reindeer,” Castiel said, turning to point. But the reindeer were gone, and he couldn’t even see their hoofprints. Startled, he looked around— He wasn’t on the roof any more, he was in a garden. He looked down at his feet, and saw he was bare-footed, standing in snow-covered grass. He gave a sudden yelp of pain; his feet were both numb yet burning with cold.

“Let’s get you inside,” Dean said, deep concern in his words. “Come on.”

Castiel tried to follow, but stumbled and shivered, teeth chattering. “I h-h-heard b-bells—”

“Bells? No, Cas, it was that,” Dean said, pointing to a wind chime that was hooked from a wall planter full of ivy. “Step up— There you go.”

They were inside now, in a ballroom Castiel didn’t remember walking through. “Wh-whe-re are w-w-we?”

“An overpriced bed-and-breakfast at the end of a cul-de-sac in Minnesota.” Dean glanced at Castiel, grasping his bicep to keep him from wobbling. “You just sleepwalked your way into hypothermia.”

“I w-was dreaming?”

“I don’t know what you were doing, Cas,” Dean said, carting Castiel around a corner, out of the ballroom and towards a staircase. “We’re gonna get you upstairs and get you warmed up, okay?”

“M-m-my grace,” Castiel said, feeling a shudder start within him that didn’t stop. “It’s-s-s c-causing-g a sleep disturbance, I’m in a liminal st-t-t-ate; my angel and human c-c-consciousness are d-doing battle... inside me...”

“Whatever, Porky. Only you could make that sound so dramatic. One more step, c’mon.”

Castiel stumbled up the last step – he tripped, but Dean caught him and hauled him back upright. Castiel realised his feet were too cold, and being unable to feel them meant he was unable to direct them correctly. “I can-n-’t walk—”

“You can walk just fine,” Dean assured him. “Two more flights, you’ll make it.”

Sam woke up with a jolt, hearing a thump. He sat up, looking about the bed to locate Dean, but the bed was empty – so was the couch. Sam slid from the bed, then took a sharp breath as he saw the hulking, too-heavy shape that entered the room. Sam slammed on the light on his nightstand, and sighed in relief when he saw it was Dean... and Cas? Dean was carrying Cas, bridal style.

“Christ, you’re heavy,” Dean complained, dumping Castiel on the bed with pointed disgrace. He looked up at the bewildered Sam, shaking his head with a frowny kind of smile. “Caught this asshat sleepwalking in the freaking garden. In the snow. Wearing this.” He flicked his hands towards Castiel’s shivering body: he wore a soaking wet dress shirt and white boxers, but that was all. His hair was plastered to his head, mussed from resting on Dean’s shoulder, and his eyes were tightly closed. His teeth were chattering, and he looked somewhat off-colour.

Sam pressed his lips together. “I’ll get a shower running.”

“You do that,” Dean agreed, putting his gun down while taking his jacket off, then bending to unlace his boots. “I’ll get some clean clothes. Damn, Cas, nothing’s ever normal with you, is it? Can’t just have nightmares or psychic visions like the rest of us, you gotta go and see Santa’s goddamn reindeer.”

“He saw reindeer?” Sam asked from the bathroom, grinning up at the shower as he turned it on. Cold water shot past his arm, and Sam shook a few droplets from his skin as he turned back to the door. “Like, actual reindeer?”

“Either they were a hallucination – or yeah, real invisible reindeer.”

“So, Santa’s real,” Sam exited the bathroom and leaned against the wall, watching Dean unbutton Castiel’s shirt as he lay there on the bed. “I knew it.”

“I’m taking that with a pinch of salt,” Dean said, shaking his head as he pulled a groaning Castiel to his feet until he slumped on his chest. “My theory is, if Santa’s real, he’s probably a tulpa. My well-tuned hunter’s forecast says someday we’ll end up hunting that bearded bastard.”

“Ngh,” Castiel complained, as Dean bent him over the bed and crouched to pull his boxers off. Dean then dragged Castiel’s arm up to loop over his shoulders so he could transport the other man to the bathroom.

Sam got out of their way, smirking. He leaned against the bathroom door frame and watched Dean help Castiel into the bathtub, shoving him under the shower flow; Castiel braced himself against the tiles, shaking on his feet and making little noises of discomfort. Dean sighed, one hand still touching Castiel’s lower back, even though Castiel had himself steady.

Sam tried to keep his grin down. “You two want some time alone?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, at the same second Dean cried, “No!”

Sam gave Dean an apologetic look; Castiel was the naked one, his demands came first. Sam eased the door closed, backing into the bedroom. His smile remained fixed on his face, and only got wider when Dean yelled, “This water’s not even hot! Goddamn winter!”

The water flow stopped, and Sam heard the squeak of wet skin on wet ceramic as Dean helped Castiel back out of the bath. Sam perched on the end of the bed, and only had to wait a few seconds before Dean came out of the bathroom pulling Castiel behind him, the angel’s slouching figure wrapped up in an overlarge white towel. Water dripped onto the carpet. Sam looked down when his foot got wet, and he saw that Castiel’s feet were significantly less clumsy now. Even cold water would’ve felt warm compared to the snow.

Dean spun around and started rubbing Castiel briskly with his towel, scraping up and down his biceps, then moving to his sopping wet hair, scrubbing so hard Castiel leaned forward and screwed up his face. Sam chuckled, then went past, heading for the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked accusingly.

Sam knew what Dean’s problem was: he didn’t want to be left alone with Castiel in case it looked too much like he was comfortable with his friend being naked. If Sam was there too, the nakedness couldn’t possibly be interpreted as sexy, or even predatory, and therefore that made it bearable for Dean. But Sam wasn’t here to make Dean feel better about his insecurities – he actually just needed the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a minute. Jeez. There’s a hairdryer in my bag, feel free to borrow it.” He rolled his eyes as he shut himself into the bathroom, and didn’t hear anything else from the other room.

“Bed,” Castiel said, making a grabby-hand motion for the blankets. “Dean, s-s-top, I’m-m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Dean said, drying Castiel’s hair until it stood on end and he looked like a fluffy black mop. “You’re not going to get any warmer if you’re still damp.”

“At least-t let me p-put some clothes on?”

Dean grinned a little. “Yeah, okay.” He let the towel slip to Castiel’s shoulders, and when Castiel huffed in relief and straightened up, Dean touched his chin with his thumb.

Their eyes met, and the whole world felt a bit too soft, a bit too safe, and a whole lot warmer. Dean smiled, so glad to see Castiel smile back.

Kissing distance.

Fuck.

Dean licked his lips and stepped back with his head down, saw Castiel’s penis – then swung his head to the side so he didn’t accidentally look again. That thing was perfect despite being shrunken by the cold, and Dean hated that the thought even crossed his mind.

“Uh— Um, clothes. Right,” Dean muttered, darting towards his duffel bag. Castiel had no bag of his own; he’d never needed to change clothes because as an angel he was ‘self-cleaning’ – or had some other superpower that sounded equally like a science fad. With his mojo fading he seemed more like something out of a thrift shop, getting grungier by the day.

Dean pulled out a pair of his own cotton boxer-briefs from his bag, then another, showing them both to Castiel. “Blue or black?”

“You pick,” Castiel grumbled, eyes squinched tight shut. “I jus-s-t want to sleeeep...”

“Get in the bed, Sleeping Beauty. Hey, you want my Survivor t-shirt? It’s got a tiger on it!”

“Mmh.” Castiel slunk forward and crawled into bed, but without the energy required to pull back the covers, he ended up flopping down on top of them with his bare ass extremely visible, perfectly plump, and so beautiful that Dean just wanted to touch it and oh crap there’s that gay thing again.

He swallowed, then wet his lips, wondering what to do. Castiel was still cold, Dean couldn’t just leave him exposed like that.

“Um. Cas? Do you... think you could put these on?”

“Mh,” Castiel breathed. He was falling asleep.

Dean gulped and let the clothes drop back to the duffel bag. Trying not to analyse the impulse to get closer to Castiel, he took his jeans off, then slid across the bed on his hands and knees, soft bedsheets skimming the sensitive skin on the tops of his feet. His heart was thudding in his throat, his whole body full of tingly feelings and something that ached, pulling him like a magnet towards Castiel’s body.

Fingers reached, and Dean touched Castiel’s hip. Soft, smooth skin. Dean’s breath hitched. He moved his hand past and over Castiel, grabbing the duvet to tug it over Castiel, covering the dip in his lower back above his muscular hips. Then he pulled it the rest of the way, over Castiel’s legs, covering him all the way to his shoulders.

Castiel burrowed under the blanket, making a thankful noise. Only a tuft of dark hair remained visible. Dean smiled. Then he lay down beside Castiel, legs stretched into the warmth Sam had left behind, t-shirt crinkling as he slid further down. He gasped as he felt Castiel’s ice-cold hand reach for him, patting his chest.

A mumble came from under the covers: “Hmnoo. No, Dean... you shouldn’t.”

“I know,” Dean whispered, shutting his eyes. “I know, Cas, it’s so wrong. I shouldn’t... shouldn’t feel...” His breath caught again, and the feeling of sparks bursting in his stomach got even more fervent; Castiel tried and failed to push him, but ended up snuggling closer, unable to resist his warmth. Castiel’s feet were like blocks of ice against Dean’s legs – Dean hissed, but stuck it out for Castiel’s sake. The angel’s hands clung to him, moving over his chest, skimming his erect nipple as they made their way to tuck into the warm nooks of Dean’s armpits.

Dean stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed. Cas was cuddling him, legs and arms wrapped around him, face against his shoulder. Dean turned his head slightly, feeling his breath rebound off Castiel’s forehead. Dean could smell his skin, and he could smell snow. This felt amazing, more amazing than it ought to.

“You can’t... stay here, Dean,” Castiel murmured, punctuating his words with a yawn. “But...” He shivered. “Hmm... you’re so warm...”

Dean shut his eyes, biting his lower lip gently between his teeth. There was pleasure in this, knowing he was what Castiel needed right now. There was pleasure in having him so close, so aware he was naked. Dean felt an impulse – he reevaluated the impulse, then second-guessed it, then third-guessed it, but logic was ruled out by desire, and he bent his head to kiss Castiel’s forehead. “Go to sleep, angel.”

Wow. Dean stared at the ceiling again. The ‘angel’ thing was meant to come out the way ‘asshat’ or ‘jerk’ did when Dean and Sam bickered in a friendly argument. But when Dean said “angel” to Castiel it just sounded like... a term of endearment.

Why the hell was Cas smiling?

“Night, Dean,” Castiel slurred, obviously on the very edge of sleep. Dean nuzzled his cheek against Castiel’s forehead and reached for Sam’s nightstand, hitting the switch and immersing the room in black.

Dean put his arm under the covers, pulled more of the duvet over to his side, then wrapped his arm around Castiel’s torso. Though Castiel was cold, bare skin never felt so good against Dean’s own.

Before he knew it, Dean was drifting towards sleep, like an angel feather falling in slow-motion from a rooftop. His consciousness swooped, twirling, sinking lower and lower in graceful arcs. By the time that shadowy appendage touched the snow, Dean was lost in slumber.

Sam came out of the bathroom yawning. He forgot to expect anything when he turned the corner and his eyes landed on the bed, but now he could see Dean and Cas bundled up, all cosy and warm – and while that was a surprise, it also... wasn’t. At all.

Sam smiled. Then he went to the couch and lay where Castiel was meant to be sleeping. Sam’s legs were too long for the space but he crammed himself in, folded at the knees, wrapping himself in the woollen blanket Cas had left behind.

He took a deep breath, and without a worry or a care, he took his leave of the waking world.

Castiel woke up with a happy feeling. Warm, and comforted.

He basked in it for a few moments, but then he became more aware... and then he realised why he felt so good. Eyes wide open, he stared at Dean’s freckled nose. Daylight was shaded by the curtains, so the room still dark enough to be snug. Dean was deeply asleep only inches away, not snoring but breathing with a low, slow drone. His eyelashes were curled beautifully, some bent at an angle from the pillow he’d slept on – the pillow they’d shared. His lips were parted, plush and red, undoubtedly good for kissing. Castiel shut his eyes and tried not to be tempted by his years of longing and all the heartaches they brought him now.

Taking a breath so deep it seemed to push on his ribs, Castiel tried to make sense of his emotions. The longing wasn’t any more potent than usual. But he also felt... satisfaction. He was satisfied. Why?

He frowned, shifting his legs slightly. He was naked against the sheets. Dean’s legs were bare, less hairy but equally slender. Castiel stretched out his toes and stroked them along Dean’s foot, biting his lip in pleasure as Dean smiled and made a sleepy noise.

But...

Oh. Castiel gulped, feeling guilt drench him cold. The fatigue that overcame him last night had led him to allow Dean to sleep here, with their bodies intertwined, and... and the dream...

Castiel smirked and frowned at once, heartbeat spiking hard as he remembered what had filled his mind as he slept. The colour red, the smell of feverish skin. A gasp, a smile. A pulse under the thin, sensitive pads of fingertips, nerves aflame, voices keening. Soft, soft fibres, woven into a pattern.

Castiel felt dirty, having dreamed – fantasised about such a thing. That knowledge had never been his secret to keep.

The dirty feeling only became more pronounced as Dean shifted in his sleep, pressing a bold erection against Castiel’s naked hip. Dean’s body heat radiated like fire over him, his erection even hotter. Castiel wanted to love that feeling. Dean’s penis was thick and stiff and a little wet at the tip; the contact was intimate beyond comparison. But Dean was asleep, he didn’t know who he was resting against, and Castiel had no right to enjoy it.

But, oh, how he wanted to enjoy it.

Castiel convinced himself the wet patch on Dean’s underwear wasn’t Dean’s at all, but his own. The idea was too real to dismiss: he’d ejaculated against Dean before waking. Raw satisfaction.

He had to leave, this wasn’t a good place for him, resting with Dean in his arms. This was never meant to be his place, and it never should be.

He lingered too long, regardless.

Eventually he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Dean. He saw Sam cramped into the small space on the couch and felt sorry, so decided to make it up to him. He’d go downstairs once he was dressed, and he’d get Sam something special.

He put on the clothes Dean had chosen: boxer-briefs (Castiel liked the blue ones), then the t-shirt with the tiger on it. He smiled, feeling the looser parts of the cotton shirt stretch as he reached into Dean’s bag for jeans. He found clean socks too, and put them on once the jeans were tightened with Jimmy’s old belt.

Really, Castiel only had need for the t-shirt, because Jimmy’s black pants weren’t damaged or dirty. Wearing Dean’s clothes was just something he wanted to do. It was good to wear something different than usual, that was all.

There was something reassuring about Dean’s clothes, though. Castiel liked Dean’s smell, he liked the way the fabric touched him. It was like Dean’s arms were draped around him: a familiar, yet unfamiliar touch.

Castiel raided Jimmy’s wallet and pulled out all two hundred dollars, counting it while he splayed the notes out with his thumbs. With a nod, he folded the notes and put them in his trenchcoat pocket, then turned to leave the room in silence. He looked back once, finding himself smiling at the sight of the brothers. Dean snored, then grumbled, rolling over in bed. Sam snuffled, an arm over his eyes.

Castiel loved them both very much. The feeling was stronger now than ever before, and that was one feeling he could never allow himself to feel guilty for.

Dean woke up suddenly, a dream on the edge of his mind, fading quickly. He gasped and sat bolt-upright, hands pushed into the mattress. His dick was hard against his belly, aroused by undefined emotions and unconscious thought. And he was hungry.

He looked to his left, then his right, but Castiel wasn’t there. He looked around the room and spotted Sam sitting up on the couch, his hair a mess and his eyes bleary.

Sam’s voice was dense when he asked, “What time’s it?”

Dean sniffed, reaching for his cellphone while his other hand pulled the duvet higher. “Wow. Uh, almost midday. Hey, if you’re getting up, can you charge this for me?” He tossed Sam his phone, and Sam’s hand batted the phone between palms until he caught it.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, dragging the heel of one hand against his eye. “I thought I heard him leave, but then he came back...” Sam squinted up at the cafe-style table near the fireplace, and Dean noticed its floral white frame had been weighed down by a silver platter, several plates, and a few take-out containers of food.

“He brought us breakfast?” Dean said gleefully. His stomach growled, and he was about to leap out of bed before he realised he was still sporting the kind of erection boxer-briefs were utterly useless at hiding. He lay back down, anxious that Sam might ask why he wasn’t running head-first towards their feast.

Dean had dealt with morning wood for much of his adult life – not every morning, mind; he wasn’t a stranger to impotence – but this was almost certainly not his average morning wood. This was the kind of boner he got when someone lay there spooning with him, or stroked him in his sleep. He was all tingly, every inch of skin aflame at the obvious assumption that Castiel had lain with him all morning. Dean smiled at the ceiling, half wishing his erection would disappear right this second, half wishing Cas was here to help him get rid of it.

“Dean?” Sam said.

“What?”

“I said, can I use the bathroom?”

“What— Yeah. Duh.” Dean swiped a dismissive hand towards his brother, and tucked himself further under the blankets as Sam walked past.

Dean hid in the dark until the tingly feelings went away, then the throbbing, then the ache. When he got to his feet and put on clean underwear, he felt better. There was half-dry come on the old boxers. He didn’t remember having a wet dream, but how else would that mess have gotten there?

Unless...

No. Dean shook his head, again and again until he banished the thought of Cas.

He turned his attention to the food, but restrained himself until Sam had vacated the bathroom and Dean could wash himself with cold (very cold) water.

And then he sat at the table opposite Sam, and pretended this was a normal day. Pretended their life was like this all the time, that they just sat around in fancy B&Bs at midday, picking at buttered fruit cake and tender slices of spiced ham and orange slices with a dash of cinnamon sugar.

Dean found a note underneath the chocolate eclairs. Castiel’s handwriting was scratchy but swift, lending it an oddly elegant look. Dean smiled as he read the card, then read it again.

“What does it say?” Sam asked, mouth full of potato.

Dean licked sugar crystals from his lips and read the card aloud. “‘I thought you might be hungry. I paid for another night here, so you’ll be allowed to sleep in. You deserve a rest. I’ve gone out to acquire gifts for each of you; I shall return shortly. Enjoy your brunch. Castiel.’” Dean chuckled. “He actually used a freakin’ semicolon. And he called it brunch.”

“Where’s he going to get gifts? All the stores are closed,” Sam said.

“Hm,” Dean said. He shrugged. “Maybe he’s gonna pick us flowers. Build us an ice sculpture. God knows.” His smile waned slightly, and he propped the card up neatly against the silver platter that was keeping the ham warm. “Hey... Sam? Can I ask you something?”

“...Yeah?”

Dean swallowed, twisting his bacon with his silver fork prongs. “H... Have you gotten Cas anything for Christmas?” He sucked his lower lip under his teeth. The question shouldn’t have have brought so many unsettled sensations to Dean’s usually sturdy midriff, but he felt like this was about more than just wrapping a box in paper and tying it with a ribbon. It felt important. Personal.

After an extended pause, Sam gave a huff. “Yeah,” he said. “I got a bunch of things for him back in Kansas, I’ve been carting them around in case we didn’t make it back home before today.”

“Smart,” Dean said, eyes fixed on his plate. There were sprigs of holly painted in a wreath around the border.

“You?” Sam asked casually. Too casually.

Dean gulped. “Nah.” He shook his head.

“Any thought to what you want to give him?”

“Yeah... a little, I guess,” Dean said with a shrug. He’d thought about it for hours, literally, and still came up with nothing. “Maybe new socks or something, I dunno.”

“Socks. Really?”

Dean lifted his eyes to glare at Sam. “Well, what would you suggest?”

Sam’s smile was far too knowing. “Since the stores are closed, you’re kinda screwed.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean huffed, sinking his forehead against his hand. “I went out to get gas for the car last night and I saw, like, eight different things I could’ve grabbed. They would’ve done fine for him.”

“So why didn’t you get them?”

Dean held his breath. He met Sam’s eye, and Sam looked back steadily. He was such a good brother, he wouldn’t laugh. Dean let out his breath. “None of them were right. I wanna...” Dean looked away, “I wanna get him something good. Something perfect, you know?”

“What did you get me?” Sam asked.

“Screw that, you’re not finding out until we sit around and unwrap them all together.” Dean paused. “And we’re talking about Cas right now, anyway. Like, what does he even enjoy? He’s seen the world, he’s been God, he’s died and gotten better – and he lived in Heaven, so vacation tickets don’t exactly seem worth it. What else is there?”

“Socks,” Sam said. Dean threw a napkin at him.

“I need to know what he loves,” Dean said, rubbing fingers against his forehead in exasperation. “Hell, maybe I should just... write him a poem.”

Sam perked up. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“What?! Come on, Sam, I’m not writing him a fucking poem. Maybe you should write him a poem, since you’re totally gay for him and all.” He glared out of the window at the snowy village, a muscle either side of his jaw jumping in agitation.

Sam sighed slowly. “You should make him something.”

Dean scoffed, eyes unmoving. “What, like, arts and crafts?”

“Yeah, maybe. We have pens and glue. You could do it.”

“Ugh. Shut up,” Dean sneered, throwing down his fork and looking further away, turning his body towards the window. The snow sparkled beautifully, pure beams of sunlight filtering through breaks in the clouds. Dean wanted to appreciate the view but his insides were rough and boiling with turmoil.

Sam sighed again, but this time he wasn’t being gentle, he was fed up. “Sulk all you want, Dean. You’ve given him the brush-off before when it comes to showing him how you feel about him, I know you have. But this time you need to go with what your gut tells you, or you’re going to regret it. Give him something he’ll be able to appreciate today, and in years to come. Something that connects the two of you. Something only you could give.”

“You realise you’re basically quoting a click flick, right? This ain’t Love, Actually, Sam, this is real life.”

Sam stayed silent as he stood up... but then he put down his napkin, and there was clearly a smile on his face, shaping his words when he said, “If you hear something romantic in what I’m saying... I don’t know, maybe that’s a good thing.”

Sam took his coat and put his boots on, and by the time Dean turned around, Sam was closing the door to leave. Dean didn’t know where he was going, when he’d be back, but he was grateful he was gone.

Tears flooded Dean’s eyes and he covered his face in shame, too lost in the pressure of this, the knowledge that he knew what to do and what to give, but being so unable to accept it. Even in his own presence he couldn’t see himself for what he really was. He couldn’t explain that to anyone else without revealing he was aware of what they saw, what they wanted him to see in the mirror. Around and around and around. Every revolution of this endless cycle hurt him more, and it needed to stop, before his life and his love became nothing more than a broken record.

Dean went out to look for inspiration. Breath flowed from his mouth in white gusts, and he became a fire-breathing dragon for a while, travelling leisurely down the streets of the village. Snow piled over his toes, and he was glad he’d tucked his jeans into his boots, else the denim would be wet to mid-calf by now.

The sky was an infallible white. Dean stood still in the middle of the street, staring up at the clouds, past the Tudor-style eaves overhanging the roof of every building he saw. Snow drifted in gentle sweeps, dozens of sharp, icy stings landing on Dean’s cheeks. He stuck his tongue out, but was disappointed when the flakes melted on his breath instead of his tongue.

He looked back to the street, smiling at a little girl who wandered past, her mitten-clad hand tucked into her father’s grip. She smiled at Dean, and Dean smiled back, feeling lighter and happier than before.

This place was amazing. Dean put his hands into his pockets and sighed, unable and unwilling to wipe his smile away.

He strolled along the cobblestones, kicking up snow that nobody had walked on before. He made new footprints, chuckling when he looked back and saw they had already filled in with fresh snow. His ears and cheeks were probably bright red, given they (and his nose) seared in pain from the cold, but Dean couldn’t care less. The world was pure right now. Nobody had ever touched this snow, and it was faultless.

Dean shut his eyes and let his psyche drift into the snowfall a little. Meditation, that was what it was. He imagined he was swaying, sinking down on a gentle breeze. Each new flake arrived weightless, settling on top of any number of other flakes, and every single flake was another worry Dean didn’t have. Soon every trodden-down footprint on his soul was replaced with peace and newness.

He opened his eyes, blinking away snowflakes from his eyelashes. He exhaled.

He felt awesome right now.

Maybe he could do this. Maybe he was good enough for Cas. Maybe it wasn’t even a case of ‘good enough’ – maybe he was the only one who would do. Cas was certainly the only one who did this to Dean, made him this weak and strong at once. This fragile. This much like fresh snow over a solid, dirty ground.

Dean walked slowly onwards, hands balled into fists in his pockets to keep them warm. He wore a small smile, and he watched his reflection in store windows as he passed. His hair was dotted with ice crystals, and his eyes were squinched shut against the white glare of snow-dispersed light. Rainbow trails of fairy lights twinkled through the glass, and as he paused, peering inside a storefront, he saw not the toys and appliances inside, but his own face lit by colour.

He looked okay. He’d always thought he was handsome, but for once he didn’t try and pick out what was wrong with his face. The smile suited him, and the coloured twinkles suited him. Even his ruddy cheeks looked all right.

Pleased with this, he moved on and took another deep breath. He could see a giant Christmas tree in the middle of the street ahead. The road was closed to cars, leaving the space wide and safe for pedestrians. Adults and children converged around the tree, all in coats and hats, and Dean heard bells ringing jovially. Interested, he headed towards the scattered crowd.

The tree seemed to get bigger and bigger as he approached, and when he was close enough, Dean realised it was at least thirty feet tall, decorated in baubles and painted clay reindeer and actual bells, tied on with red ribbons. There was a big golden star at the top, too. Dean stood staring, mouth open. Someone else approached from behind him, standing to stare too. Dean smiled and spoke over his shoulder, “They really went all-out when they installed this thing, huh?”

Castiel’s low-voiced reply practically made Dean’s hair stand on end. “I’m sure they were aware how much joy their efforts would bring.”

Dean turned, a grin already on his face. Castiel stood there, wearing Dean’s Survivor t-shirt under his trenchcoat, and a multicoloured woollen scarf around his neck. He was red-cheeked and pale-lipped, and his hair had as many snowflakes in it as Dean’s. Dean breathed out on a soft laugh. “Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean licked his lips, which he immediately regretted because the cold air nipped at his saliva. “Thanks for earlier. Bringing us breakfast, and extending our room stay.”

Castiel dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”

“So, uh—” Dean looked down, and saw Castiel was holding several posh store bags, sleek cardboard types with string handles. “You went shopping?”

Castiel glanced around, then lowered his chin, eyes set on Dean’s. Secretively, he said, “The stores were closed. I disabled the alarm systems and browsed until I found what I needed.”

“You... shoplifted?”

“I left money for what I took,” Castiel said awkwardly. “I’m not sure I left the right amount, however.”

Dean started to laugh. Castiel looked bashful and shy, and that just amused Dean further – he felt his knees weaken as he threw his head back and laughed some more. He stood straight, still grinning. “Man. You are somethin’ else, Cas.”

Castiel smiled, eyes cast downwards. Then he lifted his gaze again. “Would you like to sit?”

“What?”

“There are benches,” Castiel said, taking the crook of Dean’s elbow and pulling him through the snow, closer to the tree.

There were indeed wooden benches on one side of the big tree, and one of them was taken up by some old men dressed as Christmas elves, shaking handheld bells in cohesive, harmonised patterns. A small crowd surrounded them. One bellringer waved as Dean and Cas got closer, so Dean chuckled and waved back, grinning without really knowing why.

“Here,” Castiel said, taking Dean to the empty seats farthest from the bellringers and their audience. Dean bent to sweep snow away, and when the bench was clean he sat down, hissing in discomfort when the cold bled through his jeans and made his ass clench.

Castiel sat beside him. “Oh, it’s wet. Apologies.”

“I’m good,” Dean said, grinning away his grimace. “Hey, so, what’d you get? You pinch Sammy some reindeer antlers?”

“No,” Castiel said, lifting one bag into his lap and peering into its depths. He looked up at Dean. “Should I have?”

Dean laughed, leaning back on the bench. “Nah. I take it back – don’t tell me what you got, let’s keep it as a surprise.”

“Are you going to surprise Sam too?”

“With a gift?” Dean shrugged. “I may have put something together for him a couple weeks back. It’s nothing remarkable, but...” His mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. He realised he’d hooked his arm over the back of the bench, and he was angling his entire torso towards Castiel. Even once he noticed, he didn’t seek to move. Castiel’s presence was warm and he was making Dean feel less of the chill, in more way than one.

Castiel’s odd smile made his eyes look twinkly. “And what about me?” he asked, nosing towards Dean in an encouraging gesture. “Did you get anything for me?”

Dean grinned, teeth resting on his lower lip. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, sucker.”

Castiel’s optimism remained bright in his eyes even when his smile relaxed away from his mouth. He held Dean’s gaze, hot breath flowing in a mist between their chests. “I look forward to receiving your gift, Dean,” he said, too softly. “I only hope you like mine as much as I’ll like yours.”

Craaaap. Dean still didn’t have so much as a greetings card for Castiel yet. He managed a smile, hiding his panic well.

Castiel tipped his head back, eyes turning to the sky as he breathed out a thick plume of white. He blinked, catching snowflakes in his eyelashes. He turned his head back towards Dean and blinked away the flakes. “This world, all its intricacies... it’s such a miracle, don’t you think?”

Dean’s smile felt kinda sad now. “Yeah.”

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off his friend. When Castiel talked about miracles he got this look on his face, enlivened and heart-crushed but still hopeful, always hopeful. He looked out at the falling snow that way, a subtle smirk on his lips.

Castiel chuckled, then lowered his face. “Animal, vegetable, mineral. We played that game in the car while you drove, do you remember?”

Dean’s grin arrived back on his face like it had never left. “Obviously I remember. Who even plays ‘nitrogen’ as a thing?”

“I seem to recall you playing ‘pornography’ as a thing, Dean,” Castiel said with a playful tilt of his head. He huffed, smiling. “But I was going to say... animal, vegetable, mineral. Every single part of Earth, every intricacy, no matter the category, is something that awes me. Some things more than others.” He looked towards Dean, his blue eyes the most fierce things in Dean’s vision. “Some people, more than others.”

“I hope that was a compliment,” Dean muttered. He chuckled when Castiel chuckled, loving that ridiculous little rumble of a hum that somehow expressed amusement.

“It was a compliment,” Castiel said. “Even when I insult you it’s a compliment. The fact you can make me so angry I want to insult you is a great feat.”

“You feel more as a human, though,” Dean shrugged. “Just sayin’, I won’t be surprised if you suddenly start complaining about drafts in cold weather and not having coffee in the mornings. Or if... y’know. Stuff I do starts to annoy you.”

“Like starting another apocalypse?”

Dean snorted. “No, I mean, like... eating beans and getting gassy, or sighing too loudly when I’m thinking, or—” He gulped. “Or being really bad at expressing my feelings. Crappy stuff like that.”

When Dean looked up from his lap, Castiel’s eyes met his. He didn’t look confused, like Dean was expecting, but instead he looked like he understood. “Dean... I knew you were emotionally retentive from the moment I pulled you from Hell. If I couldn’t accept that so many years later, I can’t imagine why I would still be here.” His smile was gentle now. “Self-enforced repression is a primacy aspect of your personality. You wouldn’t be the same person without that trait.”

Dean thought of Dean Smith, that alter ego of his, that one time he’d been thrown into an alternate reality by Castiel’s angelic superior. Years had passed since then, but Dean still thought back on how freeing that part of his life had been. At the time it was a comfort for Dean Smith to become Dean Winchester again, and then return to hunting, but now, it was occasionally a comfort for Dean Winchester to look back on his time as Dean Smith. He wanted – needed the feeling of safety and security that came with that life.

Dean tried his best to answer Castiel. “If I didn’t bottle every single thing up...? I’d be... someone very different, so you’re not wrong there. I’d be someone who’s comfortable with himself. Not all the way comfortable – I’d still have a weird relationship with food, and probably not a healthy one. But I’d be happier.” Nodding, Dean turned his eyes to his knees. “I wanna be that person, Cas. My dad, he kind of threw a wrench in that. I loved my dad, I did... I still do, but he...”

Dean shut his eyes, running out of words.

“Your father took your free will, Dean,” Castiel said. “He took away your ability to love yourself. You still have the scars.”

“They’re healing,” Dean said forcefully, shutting his eyes tighter, making himself nod. “I want to heal.”

Dean’s eyes shot open as he felt a hand on his thigh, touching his hand. Castiel’s cold fingers wrapped around Dean’s, offering him comfort.

“The fact you can admit the damage he did to you is incredible.”

Dean gulped. “Look, I don’t... I don’t wanna talk about him like this...”

“Shh,” Castiel said, squeezing Dean’s hand. “It’s okay, we can stop now.”

“How do you even know?” Dean looked up, searching for reassurance in Castiel’s eyes. “How do you know this stuff about me, about my dad? I never told you.”

Castiel held Dean’s gaze steady. “I know more about you than you realise.”

Dean wrung out a twisted smile. “Yeah? Well, so does everyone, as it turns out. Sam included.”

Castiel lowered his gaze. His smile seemed less sure now. “Um. We should... go back to the B&B,” he said, raising a hand palm-up to catch some falling snow. “The snow is getting heavier, and it’ll get dark soon. We might not be able to see our way back.”

“Yeah, okay. My hands are freezing anyway,” Dean said, getting to his feet. His hands were indeed numb – only when his hand moved away from Castiel’s did he realise they’d still been joined. Dean clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them, while at the same pretending holding Castiel’s hand for half a minute hadn’t been a big deal.

Castiel gathered up his shopping bags and flung one wet end of his scarf around his neck, soaked tendrils hitting the back of his trenchcoat. He nodded to Dean, then started walking. Dean walked beside him, hands in his pockets. His fingers tingled.

They walked in silence. Even once the sound of carolling bells and chattering people faded, the snowfall was still loud on Dean’s shoulders, and the crunch of snow underfoot was enjoyable to listen to. It was rhythmic, as was the sound of Castiel’s bags batting at his legs as he walked. Whatever he purchased couldn’t have been that heavy.

Halfway back, Castiel paused beneath a wooden sign for a tavern (an actual tavern) and transferred all his bags to his right hand. Then he stuck out his left, fingers wriggling.

“What?” Dean asked, staring at the proffered hand.

“My hand is cold,” Castiel said. “I would appreciate if you kept it warm for me.”

Dean almost laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not holding your freakin’ hand, Cas.”

“We already held hands back there, though. I thought once that barrier was broken—”

“That was different!” Dean shouted, then huffed and turned his volume down in case anyone else heard. “It was different.”

Castiel didn’t look sad or disheartened. Frankly, he looked like he knew exactly which brand of bullshit Dean had just coughed up. “Nobody can see us, Dean. If anyone appears through the snowflakes then you have my permission to let go of my hand and move to a more respectable distance. In the meantime, my hand is actually very cold.” He offered his hand again, more insistent this time. Dean was leaning away like there was a forcefield around Castiel’s fingers.

Castiel’s expression slid from semi-neutral to an unreadable poker face. “Suit yourself,” he said, then strode off into the snow, shoving his cold hand into his coat pocket. The movement was a little too passive-aggressive for Dean’s liking, but then again, that was Cas. Dean ran after him so he didn’t lose him, both hands firmly in his own pockets.

Dean tried to tell himself there was nothing going on between the two of them. They were both dancing around the problem, even though both of them evidently had decent solutions in mind. Did a problem with an achievable solution still count as a problem if reaching the solution required more bravery than Dean had ever used in his life? He’d been in Hell for forty years, and while topside he’d fought demons and Leviathan and cannibals, for God’s sake. Oh, and he’d defeated manic deities, too. He’d overcome the worst kinds of tests imaginable, on multiple planes of existence. He’d faced things a human mind could barely fathom – and then he’d faced the things many human minds could. Depression. Betrayal. Christ, Dean had reconstructed his life after unmentionable violations, physical and mental, and most of the journey he felt he’d survived alone – and yet...? He was scared of something his dad said once, about men who held hands. He was still scared of the way John would look at him when Dean looked at a man the same way he looked at a woman. Dean was still scared, and always would be. That was part of him now.

He didn’t want it to be part of him.

Dean put his hand into Castiel’s pocket and held his hand.

He felt like crying, but he did it.

In all his life, he’d never felt so relieved.

“No, no, that’s not fair!” Dean complained, laughing so hard he could barely see. “You can only ask yes-no questions, dammit!”

“It was a yes-no question!” Castiel replied, his eyes wrinkled with joy, his mouth tugging into an awkward but genuine grin. He pulled Dean around a lamp post so he didn’t walk into it, and Dean stumbled on through the snow, bent in half from unstoppable giggles. Castiel chuckled and carried on defending himself in matter-of-fact tone, “You said ketchup is a vegetable, and salami is an animal, therefore a salami pizza cooked with tomato paste is both an animal and a vegetable.”

“But you’re not meant to ask if pineapple is ‘a respectable pizza topping’!”

“But it was, in fact, a yes-no question,” Castiel said, pointing at Dean as he dragged him through a snow drift, making a beeline for the B&B, where they would hopefully be able to feel their limbs again. “I fail to see how you’re any more in the right than I am.”

Dean cackled again and collapsed against Castiel’s side, throwing an arm around his shoulders with their hands still joined, so Castiel’s arm was crossing his own chest. “I dunno what the answer is, man,” Dean grinned, watching Castiel rather than the garden path ahead. “Can I help it if I love arguing with you?”

Castiel stopped in front of the B&B’s front steps, a fond smile on his lips. “I love arguing with you too, Dean.”

Dean felt all fizzy inside. His eyes lowered to look at Castiel’s lips, watching his pretty smile – but he looked away before he could fall into him. His smile broke into a grin again of its own volition.

“Come on,” Castiel said. He pulled Dean up the steps, unhooking Dean’s arm from his shoulders and letting go of his hand. Dean darted forward to grab his hand again on impulse. He realised what he’d done a second later when Castiel turned around to look at him questioningly, his other hand holding the front door.

Dean swallowed, then tried to smile in the cutesy puppydog way that always got Sam out of trouble. “My hand was cold?”

Castiel looked even more fond now. “Of course,” he said softly. He pushed the door open further and led Dean inside.

“Welcome back!” Janine called from behind the desk, looking up when Dean got inside. Dean closed the door, then gave a small wave. Janine stood up to offer fresh cookies, looking at Dean and Castiel over her maroon glasses frames. A chain dangled from the frame’s hinges, one side decorated with a festive bow. “You two were out for nearly three hours. I can’t even believe someone would weather that snow for so long. What was so interesting out there?” Dean took a cookie with a clumsy hand, feeling the scorch of warm air on his ice-cold skin.

With a quiet “Thank you,” Castiel took a cookie too, and he held onto it as he gazed at Dean for a while. When Dean had devoured half his cookie in one bite (soft, delicious sweetness), Castiel looked back to Janine. “We were just talking,” he said. “It was surprisingly pleasant.”

Dean scoffed, spraying crumbs. “What dy’a mean, s’prisin’ly? I’m hilarious all the freakin’ time.”

Castiel hummed a laugh and bit off a mouthful of his cookie, getting melted chocolate on his lips. Dean licked crumbs off his own lips and watched Castiel take another bite, melted chocolate going unlicked.

Janine put down the plate of cookies and swayed out from around the desk, her bushy afro bobbing on every step. She was less dumpy below the waist; her fluffy cardigan was tapered down to her knees, and she wore a three-quarter-length red pencil skirt, paired with reindeer slippers.

“When I met my husband,” she said, leaning back against the holly on the front desk and crossing her arms, “we’d sit out on the balcony at his mum’s flat for hours at a time. A bit like you two, really. We’d sit and talk wherever we were, whatever the weather. We lost loads of brollies in autumn. Sorry – umbrellas. We used to go around in the evenings knocking on doors to find them again. They used to end up in people’s gardens.” She smiled hugely, turning around to take one of her own cookies. She took a great big bite, then grinned. “That was a long time ago, but yeah.” She chewed and swallowed, then took a deep breath, smiling as she let a sigh out through her nose. “So how did you two meet?”

Dean was busy licking chocolate from his fingers, but paused with one fingertip in his mouth when he heard the question. He didn’t get a chance to think about any more than oh my God she thinks we’re a couple before Castiel responded the way he always did: level-voiced, and with complete honesty: “I pulled Dean out of Hell and brought him back to life.”

Janine paused with her cookie halfway bitten into.

Dean laughed breathily, darting forwards to snatch another cookie from the plate. “What he means is he, uh... saved my life. Sort of.”

“No, not ‘sort of’, Dean. Definitely,” Castiel said with insufferable firmness.

Dean smiled. “Brought me back from the brink. Gave me a new perspective on life. And on... God, and angels. Crap like that.”

“Oh, are you Christians?” Janine asked, her eyes lighting up in surprise. “It’s so refreshing to see gay couples who are comfortable being who they are. You shouldn’t have to turn away from God just because of how you were made, you know what I mean?”

Dean stood there with his mouth open, his mind a veritable haze of white noise. His second cookie went forgotten.

He heard Castiel clear his throat and attempt a save. “I can’t speak for Dean, but I think it’s safe to say we both believe in the supernatural. Myself, I believe God was once out there, I’m not certain He still is. I wouldn’t say either of us were religious, however. At least... we’re not followers of any one religion.” Castiel looked carefully at Dean, seeking confirmation, and Dean gave a shaky nod, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Janine said. “Very lovely.”

“The two of us have had our ups and our downs,” Castiel said, “But we keep trying, and we have a great deal of respect for each other’s abilities and personalities, which I believe is a big part of why we’re still so close after all these years.” He sounded so calm about it. Everything he said was stuffed with clichés aplenty, not to mention—

Oh... damn. Dean suddenly felt incredibly aware that Castiel hadn’t disagreed with the part about them being a gay couple. He was also rather surprised to realise it had taken him until now to notice.

And then he didn’t try and correct Janine himself, which was even more surprising.

“I hope everything goes well for you,” Janine said, reaching to touch Castiel’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll be as happy together as I am with Teddy. God bless.”

Castiel thanked her kindly. Meanwhile, Dean crammed the entire second cookie into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge and preventing him from saying anything he might have cause to regret later.

Castiel squeezed his hand. “Would you like to go upstairs, Dean? We should find dry clothes. You’re shivering.”

Dean chewed his cookie and shrugged.

Janine chuckled. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, Mr. Llewellyn. Either of you. Or the tall one, your friend.”

“The tall one is Sam, Dean’s brother,” Castiel said, gesturing at Dean. “He’s a good friend of mine, too.” Then he patted Dean’s arm. “Thank you very much for the cookies, Janine. I think Dean’s quite tired now, we had better retire.” He nudged Dean in the side. “Let’s go, Dean.”

Dean shuffled off, letting Castiel guide him by his hand. Dean had rarely felt so small, so humbled, and so grateful for guidance.

He climbed the stairs behind Castiel. They let their hands slip apart halfway up, but it didn’t matter. Dean felt like holding Castiel’s hand was something he could do again another time, and it wouldn’t be too weird. It might even be comfortable someday.

And hey – it was kinda nice to be mistaken for a couple. Dean and Castiel. Cas ‘n Dean. D&C.

Dean smiled to himself, exhilarated by how easy it had been.

Sam was hanging decorations around the room and humming Jingle Bells when Dean and Castiel got back. “Oh, hey,” Sam called, grinning as he turned around. “Look what I got!”

“Awesome,” Dean said, swaggering forward as he shed his wet jacket onto the bed. “Where’d you get those?”

“There was a box of them on the buffet table when I went down to get more food,” Sam said, handing one end of the tinsel to Dean and stepping back so it stretched out in a silvery snake. “The label on the box said guests could take some, so I did. Along with, like, fifteen other people.”

“Looks like you got the lion’s share,” Dean grinned, squishing Blu-tack between his thumb and forefinger, mirroring Sam as they each dragged the tinsel to opposite sides of the room. They tacked the tinsel in a drooping line above the fireplace. Dean stood back and laughed, hands on his hips as he admired the display Sam had put up.

“You seem... spirited,” Sam observed.

Dean pursed his lips, then he shrugged. “My day isn’t a complete suck-fest, that’s all.”

Sam turned to look at Castiel, who was hanging Dean’s coat alongside his own on the coathangers provided inside the wardrobe. Cas had a secretive smile too. Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he liked it.

He checked his watch. “Hey. It’s only four, but do you guys feel like eating?”

“You really expect me to say no?” Dean grinned. “I’m gonna go scrub up, and then we can dig right in.” He turned heel and marched towards the bathroom, patting Castiel’s chest as he went. If Sam were to be specific, Dean patted Castiel’s heart. More like... stroked, really.

Well, that was interesting.

Castiel watched Dean pass by, then he turned towards Sam, an undoubtedly happy smile on his face.

As Dean had closed the bathroom door, Sam asked, “What’s up with you two?” He pulled out a plate off the stack of three, then set out the three wine glasses he’d acquired. “I’ve never seen you so, uh...” He trailed off, thinking ‘handsy’ might not be the right word.

“Comfortable,” Castiel supplied, with a nod and lowered eyes. “I think Dean feels somewhat liberated now.”

“Because of the time off from hunting, or...?”

Castiel gulped, his smile twitching as he reached for a plate and began spearing various things onto it. “That, yes. And our discussion today.”

Sam’s mouth rounded in a small ‘o’. “You didn’t— Did you? You asked him?”

Castiel’s eyes shot up. He frowned. “Asked him what?”

Sam nearly laughed. “You know what.”

Castiel frowned more. “No I don’t? Is this the ‘big question’ you mentioned last night?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Sam said, now feeling immensely frustrated. “I thought you got what I meant! What did you think I was talking about?!”

Castiel shook his head, putting down his plate. “I’m not sure. Is it important? If it is, it would make things a lot easier if you explained precisely what you mean.” He looked at Sam with a brusque impatience. He was as frustrated as Sam was.

Sam took a breath, prepared to remedy all of this – but Dean walked out of the bathroom at that very moment. Sam had run out of time.

“Here,” Castiel said, offering Dean the plate he’d filled. “I picked your favourite things.”

“Is that pecan pie? Holy mother of Moses, we need to stay at B&Bs more often. Gimmie that fork—” He snatched a fork from the table and speared the pie with the prongs, not bothering to cut the slice before he shoved the entire slice into his mouth. “Grmmmmm tha’s gud.”

Castiel watched Dean destroy the pie with his smashing teeth, and he sighed in a lovestruck way.

Sam was surrounded by children.

He plonked himself down on the couch, staring at the floor as he nibbled on a bit of turkey with plum jam smeared over its crisply-basted skin. He hadn’t tasted something so good since Christmas at Bobby’s house. However, the flavour was somewhat ruined by the bitter thoughts of Dean and Castiel’s impossibleness. Sam chewed a potato with intensive vigor, preoccupied by the dark and gloomy stormclouds floating through his mind.

Dean and Castiel took cushions from the pile by the bed, and they sat on the floor, their plates in their laps. They laughed between themselves, communicating things Sam couldn’t quite hear. He suspected they had an in-joke, and they weren’t actually saying anything, they just laughed whenever they made eye contact. It should have been charming, if it weren’t for Sam’s internal commentary. You foolish, clueless peasants, why can’t you just admit you’re in love rather than making mothereffing hearteyes at each other forever without any kind of closure or ACTUAL KISSING, that would be good—

Sam cleared his throat and blinked a few times when his internal voice was interrupted. His laptop was making that Skype-call noise. Bloop-blee-bloop. Bloop-ee, bloop-bloop, oop-oop. It went on and on.

“You gonna get that?” Dean asked, chewing with his mouth open.

“What?” Sam said, blinking again. “Oh, that!” He darted towards his laptop, which had been resting on the bed. “I like that noise. Nobody’s called me in months on Skype, I forgot it meant something— Hey, Kevin!”

“Hey. Saw you were online. Is this a good time, or are you knee-deep in bodies?”

Sam shot a grin over to Dean and Cas, who stared back curiously. “This time’s great, actually. We’re having an early Christmas dinner. Late lunch. One of the two.” Sam lifted the laptop and carried it closer to Dean and Cas, who both waved when the webcam was pointed their way. Once the laptop was steady on a stack of cushions, Sam exhaled. “So! How’s the treasure hunt going?”

Charlie leaned into frame. “We actually found it last night,” she said, and Kevin grinned behind her. “Dean, you are literally the best at picking gifts.”

“Aw, shucks,” Dean said, flapping a hand. “I had fun choosing them. I was on a budget, too.”

“What did you get them?” Sam asked Dean quietly, a smile on his face. “New Pokémon cards?”

“New poker what?” Dean frowned. “No, I got them, like, eight different TV box sets.”

“And a Blu-ray player!” Charlie shouted. “We’ve been watching non-stop— Jody! Jody, get your butt over here and say hi to Team Free Will!”

“Jody’s there?” Sam and Dean asked at the same time, making Charlie erupt into a spontaneous roar of amusement. Dean looked at Sam sheepishly, Sam grinned back.

Jody came into frame wearing a Santa outfit, her short brown hair sticking out around the white fluff on her hat’s rim. “Hey there fellas,” she called, soft skin around her eyes wrinkling up with her smile. “Heard you’re snowed in up north.”

“Minnesota,” Sam nodded. “It’s pretty great here, to be honest. The TV works, and the wi-fi’s surprisingly speedy.”

“The food’s amazing,” Dean said, waving a croissant at the webcam before shoving it between his teeth. “Y’re misshin’ out, ’m tellin’ ya.”

“You three are the ones missing a party here,” Jody said, arching an eyebrow. “I brought Alex along with me, figured she might appreciate seeing the bunker.”

“You brought an ex-vampire to the bunker? Our bunker?” Dean said, swiping crumbs off his cheeks. “What do you do with an ex-vampire over Christmas?”

Kevin grinned as he answered, “I taught her all the Monopoly tricks I know. She’s actually awesome.”

“She is,” Charlie agreed, looking up at Jody. “You’re a really great mom.”

“Aww,” Sam said.

Jody laughed and patted Charlie’s hug away. “Honestly? I feel like I’m playing mom to more than just Alex, here. These kids are wild as all heck.”

“Yeah, I can believe that,” Dean chuckled. “One vegan prophet, a computer-savvy fairyland warrior, a badass lady sheriff and her ex-vampire adoptive daughter. You’re like Team...” He gestured vaguely. “Team... uh.”

“Team Free Will point two,” Sam said.

“I prefer ‘new and improved’,” Charlie said, smirking. “The four of us put together have fewer issues than one of you three cut in half.”

“Excuse you,” Dean scoffed, “If one of us got cut in half I think we’d have a fuckton of issues right there. Perspective is everything.”

“What about your little angel, hiding at the back?” Jody asked, pointing directly at Kevin’s webcam. Sam and Dean looked between them at the same time, eyes landing on Castiel. His hair was still wet, and his mouth full of the other half of Dean’s croissant, having stolen it off his plate. He hadn’t expected to be the centre of attention.

“What about him?” Dean asked.

“I thought he didn’t eat.”

Castiel swallowed. “I’m hungry.”

“There, you see,” Dean said, turning back to the laptop. “He’s hungry. He’s—” Dean turned to stare at Castiel. “Why are you hungry?”

Castiel frowned. “None of your business.”

Dean’s smile was ridiculous, like everything else that happened to his face when Cas was around. Dean looked back at Jody, but the smile didn’t stray from his lips. “It’s none of my business.”

“So we heard,” Kevin said.

“Hey—” Dean sucked in a breath. “Kevin.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, I’m... gonna be serious, for about ten seconds,” Dean said, scowling when Kevin groaned. “No, no, come on.” He took another deep breath, then let it out. “I’ve been meaning to say this for ages. It’s for Charlie too. And technically Jody, I guess. But mostly you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No,” Dean said with a shake of his head.

Sam didn’t know what Dean was about to say. He checked Castiel was watching too (he was), and then set all his attention on Dean.

Dean began, “I’m... proud of you.” He lowered his gaze from the screen, but Sam caught what Dean missed: Kevin’s smile slipped away, and he leaned in to listen.

“I, um.” Dean gulped. “I know hunting, and this lifestyle, this whole rollercoaster ride, it’s important. I know sometimes the whole world rests on our shoulders. Your shoulders. And we’re family. You, me, all of us here, we’re family. We’re meant to stick together.” Dean’s eyes had become misty; Sam watched his throat tighten. “But throughout my life... people in my family have come and gone. When they go... it’s ‘cause they died. Like, that’s the out you get, and it’s the only way you leave.

“What I wanna say, Kevin... Charlie, Jody— What I wanna say is that... if you want to leave, if you wanna pack up and go home, take a vacation and never come back to what we do, I’m with you. Not literally, I mean – I can’t leave this life, I figured that out a long time ago. But, uh. If you wanted to go, then you have my axe, or whatever.”

Kevin laughed, and Dean chuckled too, head down.

“But that’s my piece, and I’ve said it,” Dean said. “It’s valid forever, it’s not just some Christmas bonus.”

Sam began to smile, watching Dean gather his fraying emotions up. He got why Dean said it. He really did. And Sam was proud of Dean, proud he was trying so damn hard not to become their father. Dean would never be like John, and he was doing his best to prove it.

“Well, that’s much appreciated, Dean,” Jody said. She looked at those around her, and nodded. “Much appreciated.”

Kevin let out a cleansing breath. “Did... Did you guys get each other presents?”

Sam’s smile widened, recognising Kevin’s attempt to avoid excessive sentimentality. “Yup,” he said. “There’s a little stack, right there.” He angled the laptop so Kevin, Jody and Charlie could see the wrapped gifts under the tiny tree. “Cas got some stuff too, he hasn’t put it there yet.”

“I see crackers! Pull the crackers!” Charlie said. “This would be so much better if you had paper hats. Kev, go get ours!”

Everyone disbanded for a moment – Sam grabbed the three crackers from near the tree, handing the end of one to Dean, another end to Castiel, then handing the entire last cracker to Cas.

“What are these?” Castiel asked, poking at one hollow end of Sam’s red-and-gold patterned tube.

“Crackers, Cas!” Dean said, taking hold of the other end of Castiel’s cracker. “They got gunpowder or something in to make ‘em go bang. You pull, and you get a paper hat, a toy and a crappy joke.”

Castiel brightened once he understood, and he took a firm hold of each cracker, so he, Dean, and Sam were linked in a triangle.

“Wait for it...” Kevin said. On screen, he and Charlie were holding either end of a cracker. “Alex! Alex, take this.” He and Alex shared another cracker, and everyone waited until they all had two ends.

“On three,” Sam said. “One...”

“Two,” Jody joined in.

“Three!” said everyone at the same time. Everyone’s cracker stretched – some popped at once and others went on straining, until at last they all came apart, and shrieks carried through the laptop’s speakers. Sam was on his back on the floor, laughing because he’d fallen over backwards.

“I got them both!” Dean shouted, then snickered as he pulled out a bright pink paper hat. “Cas, which one do you want? I got pink or blue.”

“I like blue,” Castiel said, taking the cracker with the blue hat. “What did Sam get?”

“Yellow,” Sam said.

“I want yellow,” Castiel said, grabbing for Sam’s cracker. “Bees are yellow.”

“I take it your mom never taught you not to snatch, Cas,” Kevin teased, his face taking up most of the screen. He was wearing a green hat that slumped down over one eye, his black fringe covering the other.

“I don’t have a mother,” Castiel said, putting his frail yellow hat on.

Kevin grinned. “That reminds me, I should Skype my mom later or she’ll kill me.”

“Good luck with that,” Dean said, adjusting his pink hat so it sat like a crown. “Tell her merry Christmas from us, too.”

“Alright.”

Charlie was wearing a red hat when she came back into frame. “Wow. Pink suits you, Dean. Hey, since we already opened our gifts – thanks again, by the way, totes amaze – you should go ahead and open yours. Like, right now. Carver Edlund’s A Very Supernatural Christmas kinda set the standard for your gift buying-slash-stealing habits, but after seeing what you got me and Kevin, I’m thinking you might have something else going on these days.”

“Whoa, whoa. Rule number one,” Dean said, raising his index finger, “No mention of those books in our presence. Not ever. We are not—”

“Oh, hush, you! Just get on with it!”

Dean laughed softly, leaning back again. “How ‘bout it?” he asked Sam. “Ready to unwrap all our feelings?”

“That’s something I should be asking you,” Sam replied, taking a twisted glee in seeing Dean speechless. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They turned towards the tree, and saw Castiel removing navy blue department store presentation boxes from the bags he’d bought. He set them beside the gifts Dean and Sam had wrapped in newspaper, where they dwarfed the other gifts in every way. Castiel sat back down, cross-legged, an anticipatory look in his eyes.

“Who’s first?” Dean murmured, checking the labels for Castiel’s boxes, then the other ones. “These two are for me. And these are for Sammy. Here, Cas, this one’s yours. Jeez, Sam, what’d you get him, a paperclip? Your one’s the smallest one here.”

“Size doesn’t matter, Dean,” Castiel said gently, taking the lump that Sam had labelled ‘Cas’. “It’s certainly bigger than whatever you got me. Which is nothing, as far as I can see.”

Dean tried to reply, but he had no words, so he shrank back with his head down. Sam looked at him worriedly. Had he really gotten nothing for Cas in the end?

“Open them smallest first!” Charlie called. “And hold everything up so we can see!”

Castiel smiled, shuffling forward a short way. Now Sam and Dean bracketed Castiel, all facing the laptop. Sam watched the small rectangle showing their faces in the corner of the screen. He set his fingers on the keyboard and took a screencap before anyone could move out of frame; he liked how they all looked together, shoulder-to-shoulder, a relaxed look about them that Sam had never really seen before. Kevin, Jody, Charlie and Alex looked about the same, squashed together on the screen so they could all watch Castiel pulling Sam’s neatly-taped newspaper apart.

“Just rip it, Cas,” Dean said.

“I want to build tension,” Castiel argued, snatching his gift away from Dean when he tried to help. “I’ve never opened a gift before, I want to savour it.”

Dean sat quietly after that, keeping his hands to himself. Sam watched Dean’s face on the little screen – he was dumbfounded, same as Sam was. As Winchester brothers they hadn’t had too many things given to them, but they still knew the feeling better than Cas did. This was special for Cas, like it was special for Dean and Sam.

Castiel eventually opened up the newspaper enough to see inside the small packet. It was about the size of two fists beside each other, and only Sam knew what made up most of the bulk. Castiel tipped out the packet onto his palm, catching the largest thing first.

It was a blue tube of gel. He turned it around and read its label. “Hair gel,” he said, in surprise. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam huffed, feeling a glow of satisfaction in response to Castiel’s genuine gratitude. Only Cas could be that sweet about anything. Sam explained, “I just figured, you used to do your hair up super spiky, around the time you met us. Now you’re losing grace, you might wanna recreate that. Might put a bit more sparkle in your boring human life.”

“Being human is far from boring,” Castiel said, laying the hair gel by his feet, where his toes poked out of his damp socks. “But I appreciate your intention. I shall endeavour to use my new hair product at the first available moment.”

Sam grinned, elbowing Castiel in the side. “You should endeavour to look at the rest of what I got you, too.”

“There’s more?” Castiel tipped the packet, and his eyes widened as a small, silver chain fall into his palm. It was in fact two things, but until he untangled the mess, he wouldn’t know. Sam sat and watched as Castiel pulled the tie clip out from the collar clips, and held one in each hand.

“Oh, nice,” Dean said. “Do you know what those are, Cas?”

“They appear to be items of jewellery.” Castiel squinted. “I don’t have any piercings.”

Sam laughed, hearing muffled questions coming from the laptop.

“This one,” Dean said, turning on his knees to face Cas, “This is a tie clip. You snap it on your tie when you’re wearing one, and it’ll stop it flapping around all over the place. Wait— Oh my God, it’s engraved? Sam, you got a fucking engraved tie clip?!”

“What does it say?” Jody asked at the same time as Kevin.

Dean turned it around, tilting his head, but Castiel took it back to read it himself.

“It says... C. Winchester.”

Sam’s smile probably couldn’t get any wider. He watched Castiel’s hand fly to his mouth and tears fill his eyes, and when Castiel turned to look at Sam, he looked so moved by Sam’s gesture that Sam felt tears spring to his eyes too. He swallowed – and his eyes darted to Dean, who looked shellshocked.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel rasped, his voice unsteady. His lips quivered, and he blinked twice to clear away the shine in his eyes. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam said softly, wrapping his hand around Castiel’s wrist. “Really.”

“Th— Uh.” Dean swiped his hand against his mouth. “This other one. It’s collar clips. When you’re in your white shirt again, you poke a hole in each side of the collar and you let these little chains dangle down. You don’t wear it with a tie though. They’re just for show.”

“What are these shapes?” Castiel muttered, turning the collar clips around. Each clip had a decorative design, and when he realised what it was, he smiled softly. “Wings.”

Sam squeezed Castiel’s wrist again. “Even when your power’s gone, I don’t want you feeling like you’re useless. You’ve always got wings to us, whether they’re really there or not. Might be good to have a symbol to remind you of that.”

Castiel was teary-eyed again. He looked at Sam with raw emotion in his expression, like all he wanted was to throw his arms around Sam and hug him. Sam raised his arms a little way, in case he wasn’t imagining it. Of course he wasn’t; Castiel rocked forward and embraced Sam in a firm hug, sniffling on his shoulder.

“I can’t – I can never thank you enough, Sam,” he breathed.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Sam said. He patted Castiel’s back, catching Dean’s eye as he did. Dean looked as emotional as Sam felt, but he also looked lost. When Sam and Castiel separated, Sam noticed Charlie dabbing at her eyes on the screen.

“All right, all right, pull yourselves together,” Sam said, making everyone laugh. With the mood lightened, Sam turned to Dean. “You wanna open yours?”

Dean licked his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean lifted the gift Sam had wrapped onto his lap. It was in two parts; the top part was heavy and lumpy, and it was taped to a lighter, flat part at the bottom. Dean separated the two parts with an artless tear, setting the heavier part aside.

Sam felt a rush of apprehension, and reached over Castiel’s lap to grab Dean’s knee. “Wait. Maybe don’t open that one yet. Not with... people around.” He eyed the laptop, then looked back to Dean.

Dean blew a raspberry. “Everyone here’s over eighteen, I think we can all handle seeing a skin mag.”

Sam grimaced, but couldn’t say anything else to warn Dean because Dean was already tearing the front. He ripped slowly, however, and kept the exposed part angled away from Castiel. He got halfway down and stopped. Sam knew why he stopped; it was the same reason he’d told Dean to wait.

“Sam,” Dean said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “Wh... Uh. Why would you get me this, exactly?”

“What is it?” Kevin asked. “Is it really nasty, or what?”

Dean wasn’t breathing steadily, and he tried to cover up what he’d ripped and set the gift aside. “It’s nothing. Just some magazines.”

Sam gulped, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. He stood by his choice of gift, but as he’d expressed already, the contents between the pages wasn’t the kind Dean was comfortable with others seeing.

“Is it gay porn?” Charlie asked quietly. “Sam, how could you?! We talked about this, I said he wasn’t ready!”

Sam was shaking his head, but Charlie had already revealed too much. Dean looked distraught. Speechless, uneasy, and so uncomfortable that Sam wondered if he was going to cry.

“It isn’t that,” Sam said. “Look, everyone just move on, pretend this never happened. You might find out what it was eventually, just... not right now. Dean, open your other present.”

Dean coughed out a single chuckle, and it wasn’t friendly. “What, you get me a little feather duster? A carpet cleaner? A limited edition table ornament so I can start my collection? What’s in this thing exactly, Sammy, because it had better be good.”

Sam bit his lip. “You’ll like it.”

“Like you thought I would like that other shit? Fucking housekeeping magazines?” he snarled. “What am I, some kept woman?!”

Sam kept his head down, feeling all eyes on him. He heard a scuffle of laughter and confusion coming through the laptop, but he ignored it in favour of the feelings absolute betrayal he felt rolling off Dean in waves.

“Look,” Sam said, holding out a hand to explain, “Dean... I wish I didn’t have to explain this right now, but... It makes you happy. I know you didn’t ever want me to talk about it, or mention it, but it does. You like your kitchen. You cook amazingly. You did your bedroom up like... I don’t know, like an actual person’s home. You get excited when our cases take us to people’s houses. Maybe you don’t even see it, but everyone else sees it. Literally everyone.”

“Mm-hm,” Jody said.

“Same, it’s hard not to notice,” Charlie added quietly.

Castiel leaned back, and Sam met Dean’s eyes. Dean looked bewildered now, but less hurt.

Sam showed him a brave smile, and went on, “I got you housekeeping magazines because I thought you might appreciate the inspiration. Your guilty pleasure... doesn’t need to make you feel guilty. Just let it be a pleasure. A hobby. Anything. I like seeing you happy, and – I’ll be honest, I can’t make my bedroom look anywhere near as good as yours.” He chuckled, feeling encouraged when Dean smiled softly. “And, Dean...”

“What,” Dean said, smirking, eyes lowered.

“I accept you. No matter what.”

“Wow.” Dean turned his face away and stared at the ceiling, shaking his head in astonishment. “My god.”

Sam grinned. “I mean it. And I think I speak for all of us when I say that.”

“Hell yeah,” Charlie said.

“I am so not even part of this conversation,” Kevin muttered.

Dean chuckled, lowering his chin to his chest. “I’m just gonna... put this out of my mind. Move on. God.” He fiddled with the second present. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Yeah, Dean, it’s ‘safe’,” Sam said. He caught Castiel’s eye and grinned; Castiel looked kind of amused.

Dean took a deep breath, then began to rip down one side. He grinned once it was open. “Gun oil! Boom!” He raised a fist for Sam to bump, and they pressed knuckles like everything was fine. Maybe it was.

Dean found something taped to the side of the gun oil. “Hang on, wait, what’s this—? Giant candy cane! Awesome!”

Sam nodded, watching Dean pry the candy cane away from the gun oil canister. The cane was half white, with a twirl of rainbow colouring that flowed around it, a different colour on every stripe if viewed from the side. Dean didn’t complain about the rainbow at all, and Sam was certain (as he had been from the moment he bought it) that Dean had a thing for rainbows. He’d loved that rainbow slinky years ago, and he loved the rainbow candy cane now.

“Man,” Dean chuckled, “I’m not gonna have any teeth by the time I’m finished with this.”

“You’d better,” Sam said. “Fifteen fake credit cards, and not one of them has dental.”

“Well, you’d better get cracking on that, then,” Dean said, twirling the cane around his finger like a gun. “Thanks, man, this is great. Totally makes up for the other thing.”

“...Good,” Sam said.

Castiel shifted. “Is it my turn now?” Eagerly, he pushed one department store box towards Sam, and another towards Dean. “Sam, you go first.”

“All right,” Sam said, fingering the edge of the box. He lifted it slowly, and a gust of air flowed out as the cardboard acted like a bellows. White tissue paper fluttered about inside as he opened the box all the way, and Sam reached to lift the crinkled paper and see what it was hiding.

He saw a plaid pattern and he starting laughing. “Oh my God, Cas... That’s— Wow, okay.” He lifted out a plaid shirt in Christmas colours: red and green with an occasional shiny golden stripe. “You know, I think this might actually fit me!”

“Of course it would fit you,” Castiel said. “And it has extra pockets. Do you like it?”

“I do,” Sam said, laying it over his lap and reaching to hug Castiel again. Castiel wasn’t expecting the hug, so he was a little stiff, but Sam gave him a decent squeeze then let him go. Castiel looked pleased with himself, which was nice to see.

“Happy Christmas, Sam.”

“You too, Cas.”

“All right, enough, you two,” Dean complained. “Ugh, this lovefest is killing me.”

“Would you like a hug too, Dean?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked anxious for about half a second, but then he smiled. “Yeah, okay. Group hug.”

Sam leaned in, laughing, and he and Dean proceeded to sandwich Castiel between them, patting each other’s backs and squeezing until Castiel squeaked. When they leaned back out, Sam felt strangely joyful. Ah, Christmas was such a beautiful time of year.

“You guys are so soppy,” Charlie said, grinning. “Good thing there’s eight hundred miles between us, or I might’ve started puking rainbows just then.”

“Haha,” Sam said dully, despite conceding that she had a point.

“Now me,” Dean said eagerly. He skimmed his fingers around the navy box, feeling its pointed corners. He picked up the box for a moment, then put it back down. He lifted the lid a short way, then a bit more. “I’m guessing it’s not a suit,” he said. “That’d be heavier.”

“It’s not a suit,” Castiel agreed. “But... Dean...”

“What?” Dean asked, lifting the lid another few inches.

“Like Sam said for his gift...” Castiel fidgeted with his tie clip in his hands, “you might want to open it later.”

Dean paused, eyes darting to meet Castiel’s. “You get me housekeeping magazines too?”

“No,” Castiel said. “But...” He breathed unsteadily. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Here, let me— Dean, let me take it, I’ll get you something else.”

Sam immediately sought to consider all the things it could be. The first and only thing that came to mind was engagement ring. But that would come in a smaller box, wouldn’t it?

Dean snatched the box back. “Cas, quit it! It can’t possibly be that bad.”

“It can!” Castiel said pleadingly. “Please, Dean, it’s a terrible gift, I never should’ve—”

Dean ignored him and pulled back the tissue paper – and he froze stiff.

Castiel panicked and slammed his hand on the laptop lid, closing it and cutting off the Skype call. “Dean, don’t...”

Almost in slow motion, Dean reached into the box and lifted out the red material from inside. Straps draped over his fingers, and something sheer and semi-transparent unfolded as he pulled it up.

Sam wasn’t sure what he was looking at, not at first.

Castiel took a shy breath to speak, and as he spoke, Sam realised what Dean was holding. “Sam told me to get something you would never say aloud that you wanted. Something special.”

“I don’t...” Dean blinked, a grin flickering on his face. “Is there something I’m not getting, here? Like, an in-joke?” He looked cautiously towards Castiel, then Sam. “Because, to me, this looks a lot like women’s lingerie.”

“That is what it is, Dean,” Castiel said. “It’s a Christmas edition chiffon babydoll top, with a peekaboo front and faux fur trim.”

“There’s a gun in here somewhere, right?” Dean chuckled.

Sam didn’t get it any more than Dean did. He glanced towards Castiel to ask, “Is it for someone he knows? Like a girlfriend, or...?”

“No?” Castiel looked at Sam. “Dean doesn’t have a girlfriend.” He turned back to Dean, who looked perplexed. “I got one that would fit you, Dean. If my estimate is correct then it should be comfortable and appear flattering to your figure.”

Dean’s face looked different now. Sam wasn’t sure what had changed exactly, but it seemed a lot like Dean suddenly understood the joke. Sam didn’t get it, and he chuckled at the bizarreness of Castiel’s reasoning. Sam had given gag gifts in his time, but this definitely topped anything Sam could come up with. Cas played it so straight-faced, too – it was actually commendable.

But Dean... He didn’t look amused. He looked pale, like all the blood had drained from his face. He stared at Castiel with wide, haunted eyes, and a panic so powerful it overwhelmed his expression and left him looking totally blank.

“Dean,” Sam said.

Dean heard his name and blinked out of his stupor. The babydoll top fell from his fingers like his skin had singed its straps in half, and he turned his face to stare at the box for a moment. “I,” he said. “I – I – I gotta. Um, that’s... That’s not... Fuck, I can’t—”

Dean got to his feet, and within a second he was halfway across the room. A second later, he was inside the bathroom. He slammed the door and locked it.

Then came silence.

“What?” Sam breathed. He turned to Castiel. “What the hell just happened?”

Castiel looked more ashamed than Sam thought it was possible for him to look, not since that time he ate every monster out of Purgatory. “I should have gotten him something else.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, frowning now. “Yeah, you should’ve. Cas, I thought you were going to get him a ring. An engagement ring. Hell, I thought you’d give him an IOU for a ring and straight-up ask him to marry you. Where the hell did the frilly girls’ clothes idea come from?”

Castiel looked worried, as pale as Dean had been. “I’m... I’m not sure. I thought—! I don’t know, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Castiel breathed, setting his face in his hands. “I’ve made a huge mistake, haven’t I?”

Sam breathed out through pursed lips. “Yeah,” he said, then pressed his lips together.

The room echoed with the kind of silence that whistled, it was so quiet.

Then Sam took a breath. “Is Dean... into... crossdressing?”

Castiel lifted his face out of his hands. “I would prefer not to talk about it, Sam. I’ve embarrassed Dean enough.”

Sam could only take that as confirmation of the fact. He didn’t know what to think any more.

He and Castiel sat without talking, lost in thought. Dean made no noise, and neither Sam nor Cas dared to knock on the bathroom door to ask if he was okay.

When what felt like a solid five minutes had passed, all of it riding a high level of awkwardness, Sam decided he’d had enough. He picked up his laptop and tucked it under his arm, standing up. “I’m going down to the ballroom. See if there’s better wi-fi there.”

The wi-fi here wasn’t bad. But, without a doubt, the high levels of negative energy were messing with any frequencies that came within sneezing distance of Dean or Castiel. That included the frequency of Sam’s thoughts.

He paused at the door and looked back at Castiel, hoping things would sort themselves out. With a sigh, he went into the hallway and shut the door, then headed down the stairs.

Dean heard the main door to their room close, and immediately his hands parted like gates away from his face. He sniffed, scrubbing away a single tear with the heel of one hand, then he stood up. He hoped it was Sam who left. If it was Cas who left, then Dean might be heading into a situation he really wasn’t ready to be in.

He took a deep breath, checking his face in the mirror. His eyes weren’t red, he just looked a little down in the mouth. He sniffed again, reaching for the faucet and turning it on. He bent to splash some water on his face, recoiling at its ice-cold temperature. The refresher worked – when he looked at himself again, he appeared alert, and his expression was neutral.

He dried his face and hands off with a small white towel, then left the towel crumpled beside his toiletry bag. With flat palms, he brushed down his t-shirt and the plaid shirt that covered it, then he put on a smile. “You can do this,” he whispered, holding his own gaze.

He turned from the mirror and went to unlock the door.

Poking his head out, he looked left to the room’s entry, saw the door was closed, then looked to the right. He couldn’t see anyone; the couch and the bed were out of sight. He stepped out cautiously, sneaking to the corner and peering around at the rest of the room.

Castiel sat on the couch, his head in his hands and his back hunched in a way that let Dean know right away that he was as upset as Dean.

“Hey,” Dean breathed.

Castiel looked up, startled. “Dean.”

“Is it... okay if I sit?” Dean asked, approaching with caution.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, clearing his cracker with its paper joke and little toy off the seat beside him, leaving a space for Dean.

Castiel didn’t say anything else as Dean sat down, and Dean suspected Castiel was trying to allow him the option to either talk about what had happened or discuss something else entirely, but didn’t want to steer him.

Dean gulped, then began to speak. “I should probably... explain myself.”

“You should?!” Castiel looked taken aback. “Dean, it was my mistake, I made too many assumptions about you, about what you liked—”

“Cas. Cas, shut up for a minute.”

“I understand why you reacted the way you did! The gift was a very bad, wrong choice. It was inappropriate, especially in front of Sam—”

“Yeah, it was, but— No! That’s not what I’m—”

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Castiel looked at Dean with pleading eyes, an expression Dean had seen before but never like this, never so intimate. This wasn’t an apology for breaking the world, or breaking Dean’s heart, it was an apology for revealing a secret he’d never wanted revealed.

Dean nodded softly in the silence that followed. “All right,” he said, sliding a hand to nudge Castiel’s thigh, feeling his warmth through the crumpled jeans he wore. “Apology accepted.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Cas, it’s fine.” He shut his eyes. “Thank you.”

“For... for what?”

“For the gift,” Dean said, frowning briefly. “If it’s the thought that counts then it was actually pretty thoughtful.”

“Dean, I don’t think I understand...”

“Look, just forget it,” Dean said, moving his hand back to his own lap. “Talk about something else.”

It was quiet for a while.

Then Castiel asked, “Did you get something for Sam?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, looking for the last newspaper-wrapped item, a chunky rectangle. “Right there.” It was buried under other wrapping shreds, beside the department store box Dean had left open. He could see the red chiffon, and he felt a twisting feeling curl through his body at the sight. He looked away, out of the window at the darkening sky. Village lights were starting to twinkle in the blackness, giving the sight an element of cheer that raised Dean’s spirits and, in turn, raised a small smile.

“And did...” Castiel paused, “Did you get something for me?”

Dean lowered his chin to his chest and tried not to let his smile fade. It faded anyway, and he found himself staring at the carpet. “I couldn’t think of anything to get you. After what Sam got you, a new tie or a pair of socks would’ve looked pathetic, let’s be honest.”

“I would’ve appreciated it anyway.” Castiel tilted his head, and Dean caught sight of a smile out of the corner of his eye. “And if it’s the thought that counts, as you said, then I appreciate the thought regardless of the lack of physical gift.”

“Man, I’m a sucky friend,” Dean said, huffing out a self-conscious laugh as he palmed the back of his neck.

“No, Dean.” Castiel moved a hand to touch Dean’s, fingers on his wrist when Dean moved to hold his own hand on his lap. “Dean, you’re a wonderful friend. I’m not saying that simply because you’re doubting your worth right now, or because you accepted my apology – I’m saying that because I want you to know it’s the truth.”

Dean slipped his hand to hold Castiel’s. He didn’t know why he did it, and he felt strange doing it, but he felt better when their hands were linked, when Castiel’s fingers were nestled in his palm and Dean’s fingers made a bed for Castiel’s slim knuckles. Castiel’s hands were warm, smooth-skinned and firm to the touch.

Dean’s gaze fell by chance upon the near-empty box of Christmas decorations that Sam had brought up from the ballroom. Suddenly breathless, Dean reached inside and pulled out a sprig of green and set it on his lap beside his and Castiel’s joined hands.

“Mistletoe?” Castiel said.

“It’s plastic,” Dean replied, turning it over. The white berries were painted beads, and the stems and their leaves were obviously made in a plastic mould; there were raised ridges on the sides of each stem. The fact it was fake didn’t seem to matter, though: Dean had an idea.

“H-Hey, uh... Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

Dean put the mistletoe back in the box, then slid his hand away from Castiel’s to rub his thighs instead, wiping away sweat. “Um. You know we’ve... known each other for a few years. And we’re friends. Good—” he looked up at Castiel, catching his eye, “Great friends.”

Castiel inclined his head, the attention of his blue eyes alternating between Dean’s.

“Do you ever kind of feel like... there’s something we should do? Or try? I know we’re both dudes – or at least I am, and you look like a dude so, uh... There’s stuff two dudes could try together—” Dean’s temperature flared when he heard how that came out, and he tried to cover it, “I don’t mean like experimenting or— Shit. No, I’m just...” He covered his mouth with his hand, then breathed out slowly, air parted by his fingers. His hand slipped down, and he gulped. “Like, m-maybe we could do... kissing? Just once, one kiss. We could have a kiss. For Christmas. As a gift. From me.”

He managed to meet Castiel’s eye, aware he was blushing hot enough that Castiel had noticed. Dean ran his hands down his thighs again, worried because Castiel hadn’t spoken yet.

“We can... show that we like each other. Because, I mean, there’s mistletoe, and it’s traditional to kiss under mistletoe. And kissing’s for, like, showing love and stuff like that. And, like,” Dean chuckled nervously, “I mean, I know I love you so there’s— No! No, I don’t love-love you! Wait, no! I do! I do. But in a friend way. You know what I mean!”

Castiel blinked.

“It’s... It’s Christmas.” Dean was floundering and he knew it. He shut his eyes and he whispered the plea waiting on his tongue, “Cas, you’re not saying anything and it’s freaking me out, please say something.”

Castiel licked his lips, only the tip of his tongue showing. “You want to kiss me?”

“Um. N-no... It’s not about what I want, it’s for you. It’s a Christmas thing. So, if you wanna, then that’s cool, but if you don’t then that’s cool too, right? I wanna give you an experience. F-first kiss... First kiss with a guy. My first time too, I guess, but that’s – whatever. I know you’re not really into that sort of thing with people, and I get that! So it’s fine. You don’t—”

“Dean.”

“You don’t have to. You probably shouldn’t, for that matter, actually— I take it back, I can’t— This was a bad idea. Guess we both had those today, right? Heh. I should go, I’m saying all the wrong things and I’m—” He stood up, but Castiel caught his wrist and held him still.

“Dean,” Castiel said again.

“Cas, I gotta go, I gotta—”

“Animal, vegetable, mineral, Dean.”

Dean stopped. “What?”

“Pretend we’re playing. You’re only allowed to answer yes or no. Understand?”

Dean nodded unsurely, dreading where this was going. His heart was pounding his ribs; he’d near-enough confessed his love for Castiel without even realising until it was out of his mouth, and now...

Castiel’s eyes were so calm. “Answer yes or no. Do you want me to kiss you?”

Dean tried to elaborate on his reply before he even opened his mouth, but Castiel gave him a stern look, and all Dean could do was whisper, helplessly, “Yeah.”

Castiel tugged on Dean’s wrist and Dean fell on the couch, ass sinking down into the soft cushions. His hand was in Castiel’s, their eyes locked.

Castiel looked ready for anything. Dean wasn’t ready for this.

Castiel seemed to sense Dean’s fear, so raised his hand to cradle his jaw. Dean didn’t know why that helped, but it did. Castiel’s hand was guidance for him. Warm and gentle...

Just like that, Dean’s worries blurred into a hazy footnote under the pages and pages of other things he felt. Excitement made his heart squeeze up tight and thump with power; a quiver set his fingers moving, his lips twitching apart when they felt the heat of Castiel’s breath. He was so close. Dean was leaning back out of fear (for a footnote, it was hefty), but not so far back that when Castiel’s lips touched his, Dean missed the firmness of the pressure.

“Ohmh,” Dean murmured as he felt Castiel’s stubble at prickle his lip, as he felt the tenderness of flesh and the warmth of air Castiel had already breathed. Castiel grinned quickly, eyes open to meet Dean’s.

It had barely been a kiss, and they were already separating. What about the rest? Dean tried to chase Castiel for another kiss but hesitated, eyes unable to settle on any one part of Castiel’s face. Lips, eyes, lips again.

Hands caressed Dean’s cheek, then his fingers.

Dean freed one hand and lifted it so he could touch fingertips to his own lips. He stared at Castiel with a sea of mixed emotions churning in him, that footnote of fear expanding into a paper boat, startlingly visible on Dean’s black tide.

“Would you like another kiss, Dean?” Castiel asked, head tilted.

Dean shook his head hastily. “Nn-nhn.” He wanted so badly for Castiel to realise he meant ‘yes’.

Castiel observed Dean for a few seconds, taking in the tremble in his hands, his wide eyes and the hurried breaths rushing over his fingers. If only he could see Dean’s heart beating he would’ve known Dean was yearning for another touch, another kiss on his lips just like the first, but was unable to move or speak.

Evidently sensing none of that, Castiel sighed through his nose, one thumb skimming Dean’s knuckles. “Last night,” he said, “we slept together, you and I.”

“Hm? Yeah. But that wasn’t the same as kissing,” Dean said, lowering his fingers at last, curling them against Castiel’s hand for comfort. “Kissing... It’s...” Dean didn’t have words. Yet there was so much feeling inside him, everything was screaming at him to grab Castiel’s face and kiss him the way Dean wanted to kiss him, soft and deep and intimate. He wanted to quench his everlasting thirst for those lips and that heart.

But Castiel went on talking, and Dean still couldn’t move. “Dean, as I held you, I sensed things from you I shouldn’t have sensed. I don’t mean that what you were thinking was wrong – I mean me finding out, that was wrong.”

“What d’you mean, you finding out?”

Castiel looked fragile now, head bowed and a thin line between his eyebrows. “I didn’t sense everything in your past, which is what I thought would happen. My angel grace must be weakening still; I never saw that much. But there was enough on the surface for me to find out too much. The topmost layer of insecurities, and... of dreams.”

“You saw my dreams?”

Castiel covered his face with a hand, then uncovered it again. “Yes. There’s so much you desire, I don’t understand how anyone could live with that. I’ve loved you for years and I never ached as much as you do. Maybe I’ve always been numb. Maybe as an angel I could never love as fiercely as you. But every part of you, Dean, it’s rife with unsatisfied wants. You hold yourself back. You always hold back. You’re holding back now; I know you want nothing more than to be kissed. I know, Dean.”

Dean had to work hard to steady his flustered breaths. Castiel had confirmed what Dean had longed to know for such a long time: he loved Dean. Loved him. All the Christmas lights in the world couldn’t illuminate Dean’s heart any brighter or any more colourful than it was now. Glowing with happiness, that was what he was.

Castiel held Dean’s gaze steady, his eyes grounding Dean as he carried on explaining, “I worry I might know everything there is to know about you. If I give you what you want, then I’ll be violating whatever privacy you were meant to have for your thoughts. I already hurt you today, giving you... what I gave you. I embarrassed you terribly and I never should have done that.”

Dean tried to speak, while not being entirely sure what would come out of his mouth. “Cas... I – I actually thought you already knew. My fears... My guilty pleasures. All that personal stuff, everything about me. Right from the start, from the time you dragged me out of Hell. This whole time... you never did?”

Castiel’s mouth slid open, and he shook his head. He was stunned.

Dean exhaled through pursed lips. Did this change anything? He wasn’t sure. He’d operated for so long under the assumption that Castiel could predict his every move because he knew how his mind worked, and could console him because he knew what hurt him – and he could be the one Dean fell for, because despite knowing Dean’s faults, Castiel fell for him first.

Dean smirked to himself, glancing towards Castiel. “Now I think about it,” he said softly, “that kinda makes it nicer. All the things I appreciate about you, the way you’re just... okay with me talking to you about my shitty feelings, all this crap inside me? You’re legitimately that good a person. You went ahead and took the time to learn about me. That’s how you’re so good for me, isn’t it? You figured out how I do stuff. You actually, properly paid attention to me. To my feelings.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Castiel said with a smile. His hand reached for Dean’s again, and Dean offered his palm, fingers spread. Dean closed his fingers, trapping Castiel’s fingers in a reassuring grip.

Castiel took a breath. “Are you okay with me knowing so much about you now?”

“You mean all those dreams and insecurities? Yeah, Cas.” Dean nodded, eyes on their joined hands. “Yeah. This way I probably never need to tell you why I’m feeling crappy. You can just mojo it out of me.”

“That power won’t last forever,” Castiel warned him. “Weeks at the most, I’m guessing.”

“Then you’ll be human.”

“Yes.”

“Well, then,” Dean said, with a sad sort of cheerfulness, “I’d better learn pretty quick how to tell you I feel like I have a knot in my stomach and I wanna curl up in bed or go fling myself at a wild bear for kicks.”

“You feel like that now?”

“And a bit like I want a hug, yeah.”

Castiel smiled, leaning closer. “Would a kiss do?”

Dean lifted his eyes, meeting Castiel’s. He bit his lip, then let it slide free. “Mm-hm,” he breathed, parting his lips.

Castiel’s smile was radiant. A human smile, a genuine reaction to Dean’s timidity. Dean felt himself flush with heat and colour the moment their lips touched, the same moment Castiel forced Dean’s mouth open with a single roll of his lips.

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, letting Cas take another kiss. Dean didn’t feel the need to respond, he wanted Castiel to burn him out like a match by kisses alone, hoping then the fear would be at an end.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, breaking the kiss. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue; Dean watched his mouth with half-closed eyes. “I’m no expert, Dean, but I was under the impression kissing was an exchange rather than a deposit.”

An unexpected laugh burst out on Dean’s breath. He looked at Castiel, seeing his playful but caring eyes, that patient little smile. “Trust you to make kissing sound like banking.”

“I believe this experience could be richer – pun intended – if you were to kiss me back.”

Dean was about to argue, but Castiel wasn’t going to take any crap, Dean could see it in his eyes. Dean gulped. “Let me try again?”

Castiel leaned in and cupped the back of Dean’s neck, guiding him closer. Dean fidgeted, but then let himself be pulled, his waist pressing to Castiel’s warm side, a strong hand holding his hip. It felt damn good to have Castiel preventing him from pulling away, really. Dean felt more secure like that.

Castiel nosed at Dean’s lips, and Dean grinned, feeling his breath twirl out over Castiel’s cheeks. The press of a kiss found his lips again, and Dean shut his eyes, mouth open so Castiel could take whatever he wanted.

Castiel’s thumb stroked Dean’s neck as he pulled back again, gazing at him in concern. “Dean... What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean lied. His breath caught: Castiel’s warm blue eyes locked to Dean’s, and seemed to scrutinise Dean to the depth of his soul.

Castiel’s eyebrows raised, and he untilted his head ever so slightly. “You don’t think you deserve to be loved.”

Dean had heard him say something very similar, years ago, mere minutes after they met. Hearing the words now, Dean swallowed, dipping his head and frowning. He couldn’t argue with what Castiel said, as every word was the truth.

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean met his eyes. Calm blue.

“You deserve this,” Castiel said. “If you taught me anything, you taught me that even small joys, the briefest pleasures... they’re what keep us going. You deserve to be shown love. You deserve to be happy. We don’t have to kiss. We can sit, if you like. There’s an incomprehensible joke I pulled out of my Christmas cracker, I think we would both enjoy trying to interpret it.” When Dean snickered, Castiel kissed his cheek. “What would you like to do?”

Dean’s fingers curled around Castiel’s firm forearm, which rested against Dean’s shoulder. Castiel felt the touch and responded with another soothing stroke to the nape of Dean’s neck.

Castiel was gentle, he was kind. Castiel would take care of him, Dean had no doubt of that.

Dean was too embarrassed to say he’d made up his mind and he wanted to kiss, the words were impossible to arrange. So he sank forwards, trying to erase his frown as he parted his lips.

Castiel kissed bravely. Dean didn’t know how he learned to be so confident, but his audacity was admirable, as was his technique. He was soft-mouthed, and used it to his advantage (licking, smooching, then licking again, dear god), but he never lost that ferocious edge; he pushed and he bit – gently, very gently – and he toyed with Dean’s lips, making a game of plumpening them to the point where they buzzed with sensation.

Dean hummed in satisfaction as Castiel licked his teeth – then made him gasp, pulling Dean towards him with a rough tug. Dean couldn’t help his response – he loved being driven about like that. He could feel his dick filling out against his inner thigh, and he was shocked and intrigued by it equally.

Castiel smiled, ducking his face back by an inch, giving him space to thumb away a dot of saliva from Dean’s lower lip and allowing them each a moment to catch their breath.

“You’re enjoying this,” Castiel observed.

Dean panted, swiping his tongue over his lips again, perhaps for the eighth time in the past minute. “I’m, uh. I’m— Yeah.” He nodded, feeling the energy in his blush, the sparkling excitement that flittered continuously across his stomach. “You kiss really good,” he whispered, falling into another open-mouthed mess of touch, a drag and a surge of tongue and lip.

“Mm,” Castiel hummed, smacking his lips as he broke another kiss. He had a hand in Dean’s hair, grasping the back of his skull like his hand was a crown. Their eyes lingered on each other, staring from an inch apart.

Dean loved seeing the darkness in Castiel’s eyes. Parts of both of them were awakened by this; lustful intent seemed to have risen to the surface amongst long-drowned emotions in Dean, and Castiel appeared to be discovering the same about himself. When their eyes locked like this for so long, when the contact simmered with this much intimacy, Dean felt like he’d been shipwrecked. Vulnerable. And he liked it. He wanted Cas to see all the things he couldn’t say aloud. He wanted Cas to hold every insecurity in his hands; Dean wanted to feel his sweating palms and the grip of his fingertips against the greatest and the worst parts of him.

“Are you—” For the first time, Castiel seemed to have come undone: he struggled to speak, a frown appearing like a ridge against Dean’s temple, where he rested his forehead. He tried again, voice corroded in his throat, “Are you aroused?”

“You mean—?”

“I think I have an erection,” Castiel whispered. Dean didn’t know why he would be ashamed of that, why he wouldn’t be as confident with his penis as he was with his lips and his hands.

“Uh—” Dean laughed breathily, touching his crotch, “I’m getting there.”

Castiel’s eyelashes fluttered on Dean’s cheek, and Dean realised Castiel was trying to look down, trying to see into Dean’s lap. Dean moved his hand to touch Castiel’s thigh, leaving room for Castiel to slip his own hand across.

Castiel’s touch was tentative. Not scared, exactly, but he caressed Dean’s shape through the denim of his jeans like he wasn’t sure if Dean really wanted to be touched there. Honestly, Dean wished he would get all pushy again. So he set a hand over Castiel’s and pressed down, making himself thicken immediately, forcing Castiel to feel his blood pulse. They were both breathless in an instant. Dean’s skin was surely hotter than the sun by now.

“Dean,” Castiel rasped.

“I know. I know,” Dean replied, wet-lipped and rocking, rocking against Castiel’s hand. He opened his legs slightly, hips tipping forward on the couch to let Castiel grab him again – confidently this time, putting real pressure on the base of Dean’s dick and his balls. God, that felt good.

“I want to see you naked,” Castiel said. So decisive about it, too. Dean nodded, and kept nodding as he moved shaking hands to his belt buckle.

Castiel stood up off the couch, leaving a coldness beside Dean. All Dean’s attention stayed on Cas, who stood facing Dean with his hips forward, undoing his belt like he’d done it a thousand times, fingers pulling out the leather and whipping it from the buckle. Fingers to the button of his jeans, popped undone. Then the zipper, down.

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel said, holding out both hands to Dean like he was asking for a hug. “Let’s go to bed, it’ll be more comfortable.”

“We’re really doing this, huh,” Dean said, words coming out all shaky. “My heart is just pounding right now.”

“Mine too,” Castiel said, wrapping his arms around Dean’s hips as he stood up. Their hips pressed together – Dean was struck by a lightning bolt of shock, unsettled by how it felt not to be the only one with an erection. Still, he was strengthened by the power in Castiel’s body. Castiel’s hips were particularly assertive; Dean got the impression Castiel was going to enjoy humping him. Dean liked that. Fuck, he liked everything about this.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s plaid overshirt at the collar and slid it down his back – all Dean could do was straighten his arms behind him and allow the cloth to fall away. Castiel then took him by the waist, grabbed his t-shirt and lifted it. Dean raised his arms, letting Castiel expose his chest and stomach.

The curtains were open and it was dark outside, so anyone could peer in from the higher floors of the cottages opposite, and if they did, they’d see an event transpiring that Dean would ideally never allow anyone else to see. Yet Dean paid the window no attention, immediately lost in the assurance of Castiel’s eyes while he undid Dean’s belt for him, not even looking at it.

“Take off your pants, Dean,” Castiel said. He stood back and started to take off his own, a neat tug sending them to the floor. He stepped out, bent to collect them along with his socks, folded them over a forearm, then lay it all on the couch.

Dean shimmied out of his own jeans, eyes unable to move away from the bulge in Castiel’s underwear. He was wearing Dean’s boxer-briefs – and Dean was a wide-set guy, okay, he wasn’t exactly slim – but on Castiel the underwear had no give at all. Castiel was meaty on the waist, and his erection clearly wasn’t going to stay hidden under that fabric for long. Castiel palmed himself, smoothing his hand around the shape of the bulge. Dean watched, rapt, pulling his socks off absent-mindedly.

Dean licked his lips and stepped towards Castiel, having forgotten to be self-conscious about his thighs or the extra pudge below his belly button. Castiel was still wearing Dean’s Survivor t-shirt, and Dean wanted that to change. He stepped into Castiel’s personal space and gripped the hem of the shirt, fingers on Castiel’s skin as he dragged the shirt up. Feeling his warmth and hearing the slick sound of skin on skin sent Dean into a fever sweat, dazedly eating up the sight of Castiel’s midriff, revealed inch-by-inch.

Perky little nipples. Dean smiled with his lips still parted.

With all but their boxer-briefs discarded around them, Dean let Castiel tug him back into his space. He felt a blaze of pleasure as their stomachs touched, feeling the stark contrast between his own softness and Castiel’s solid figure and pointed hips. Dean let out a tender noise, cocking his hips forward on instinct, wanting to make his erection rub on Castiel’s.

Castiel didn’t seem nearly as confused as Dean always imagined he would be in a sexual situation. He was easily the calmer one, the one who could gaze steadily without blushing or trying to turn aside to hide the darkness in his eyes. While Dean wasn’t afraid of showing Castiel how much he was enjoying this, he was still having difficulty grasping the idea himself. He wanted to be okay with feeling turned on by Castiel’s flat chest, the random stray pubic hairs on his abdomen, the way he was just standing and holding Dean tight without kissing him so that Dean had a chance to figure out his feelings before moving forward. Castiel was the most patient man on the planet, and Dean was trembling in his arms.

After taking the few extra seconds he needed to collect himself, Dean nodded. With a delicate smile, Castiel leaned in and kissed his upper lip, and when Dean kissed back, Castiel slowly began to deepen the kiss. Dean figured out he had a pattern: he’d start by sucking Dean’s lips, plucking at them gently. Then he’d test the waters with his tongue, and when he got a response, he’s seal their mouths together and rock Dean into mindless oblivion, pacing or patience be damned.

Castiel’s hand hauled Dean closer by his ass, making Dean squeak and his heart leap in shock. Castiel’s fingers rested firmly in the dip under Dean’s buttocks, holding him secure while his other hand gripped the space between Dean’s shoulder blades, fingers spread wide.

Castiel’s kisses got rougher and rougher until the two of them were swaying on the spot, Dean looser than he’d been in years, tossed about by slow but insistent nudges of Castiel’s hips. At this point, Dean’s body was probably held up by nothing but Castiel’s hand under his ass.

Dean moaned into Castiel’s mouth, a sound that became infinitely louder as Castiel broke the kiss too soon. Dean gasped in silence, lips plump and parted as he kept his eyes tight shut, so ashamed of the sound he’d made.

“Oh, that noise,” Castiel groaned, branding Dean’s lips with another kiss. “Mm—”

Dean was thrown back on the bed, and he bounced, his dick jolted by the movement in a way that he loved, a way he’d always loved. Castiel stood over him, thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, lowering them. Desperate now, Dean shoved his own underwear off, dragging his dick down until it thwacked back up, half-solid, resting nearly flat against his belly. Castiel took over and pulled his boxers off the rest of the way, leaving Dean naked. Damn, it felt good to be naked in front of Cas. Dean could feel himself getting harder purely out of enthusiasm for his bareness.

Castiel smiled shyly but with obvious intent as he slunk over Dean, one knee either side of Dean’s thighs. Dean couldn’t help looking down, giving a coo of delight as he saw Castiel’s erection, crinkled pink skin around the tip, stretched back to expose the flushed, shiny head with a wide slit. He was five, maybe six inches long, fattest in the middle. Definitely a grower. Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes again, seeing him gaze back with a certain smugness about him.

“You ever done this with someone before?” Dean asked, fingers lifting to touch Castiel’s stomach, curious about his muscles. He fingered his nipple, riding out a wave of electrifying sensations that came from feeling puckered skin and a firm nub under his fingertip.

“I haven’t,” Castiel replied, slowly lowering himself until his body rested over Dean’s, his erection splendidly fat and hot and strange between Dean’s thighs. Castiel’s fingers stretched through Dean’s hair, combing it back from his forehead. “Jimmy taught me to masturbate,” he said with a tiny grin. “Lest he go ‘stir-crazy’.”

Dean’s skin chilled at the mention of Jimmy. Jimmy wasn’t just a body for Castiel’s presence to possess, he was a person... who might not take kindly to being made to rub against Dean’s thighs.

Castiel noticed Dean’s sudden unease, and he nodded. “Jimmy’s gone. You don’t need to worry, Dean. It’s all me in here.”

Dean bit his lip, nodding as Castiel lowered his face to put a kiss on his chin, then his jaw.

“We’ll go as slow as you like,” Castiel said, fingers of one hand caressing Dean’s ear while the other sank into his hair. Castiel’s hips restrained their power, keeping the nudges gentle and the pressure light enough that Dean’s foreskin was tickled by Castiel’s rough pubic hair. Dean wanted to see how it happened, how things were fitting together down there, but the most he could envision came from how it felt having a foreign penis squashing his balls.

“Is there anything in particular you like to do, Dean?”

Dean let go of a shivery breath, accepting a soft kiss when it came. “Wh... What kinda thing do you mean?”

“I don’t know everything there is to know about you. Nor do I have complete factual knowledge of human pleasure, so I’d very much like... if you showed me what you enjoy. Then I can make you make that noise again.” Castiel became flustered for a moment, eyelashes flickering against his cheeks, then he made a low, pleasured sound and smiled. “I liked hearing you moan.”

“I-I’m kind of into this,” Dean said, fingers curling around Castiel’s wide shoulders, palming their exquisite girth. “What we’re doing now, this is nice.”

“But you’re not moaning,” Castiel complained. He looked so put-out by that that Dean shrank down and shrugged his shoulders up, a grin flitting across his face. Castiel pressed down a bit harder, thrusting quickly for a few seconds, then slowing down again. “Come on, Dean,” he said. “Please.”

Dean needed a few more kisses before he was brave enough to speak.

“I... I like when...” He shut his eyes, then looked up at Castiel but couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I won’t make you feel any shame for it,” Castiel promised, an obvious tone in his words that reminded Dean who he was talking to, who was rubbing against him. Castiel wouldn’t make him feel ashamed for his feelings. His actions, perhaps, but never his feelings.

Dean met Castiel’s eyes, and he held on for a bit, slowly wrapping his thighs around Castiel’s waist. Castiel noticed he was now frotting against Dean at a new angle, and he seemed to realise what Dean was giving up by putting himself in that position.

“You like it like that?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. He felt relief. He’d wanted to have sex like this, lying underneath, totally at Castiel’s mercy, for as long as he could remember. It felt like a hug. Castiel kissed his cheek and Dean let out a soft groan, tipping his hips upwards off the bed so Castiel could press into his perineum.

“Yes,” Dean whispered, eyes half-closed as he gazed at the white bedspread crinkling around him, “Oh – that’s perfect, Cas. It’s perfect.”

Castiel slipped a hand down to stroke Dean’s thigh, open-handed and firm. Dean couldn’t tell if Cas was trying to soothe him, excite him, or simply explore what Dean’s thighs felt like. Either way, Dean enjoyed it. The movement of Castiel’s hands was very controlled, and Dean felt he was safe.

Dean turned his face to kiss Castiel. He kissed his jaw first, then his ear, and tried to lick his earlobe while he was at it, but Castiel kept thrusting and he wouldn’t stay still. Dean kissed his neck, then paused for a little while, nose buried between Castiel’s ear and his neck, breathing deeply.

“Your smell – mmh... It’s really – heartening, I guess. I like... having it be so familiar.” Dean breathed in again, curling his legs tighter around Castiel’s waist in his delight.

Castiel moaned, hips stuttering in their rhythm. “That’s— Ohh... Dean...”

“What, what am I doing?”

“It’s tight,” Castiel sighed, smiling against Dean’s cheek. “You’re squeezing me, that feels good.”

Dean’s skin seared hot, immediately thinking about letting Castiel sink inside him. Dean had no doubt Cas would love that tightness as much as Dean craved the stretch. Before he knew it, Dean was leaking wet pre-come against his own belly, made aware of it only when Castiel moaned again, having discovered a fresh splash of lubrication to slide through.

Every time Castiel moaned, all of Dean’s bones seemed to vibrate, his skin alive with static. Castiel’s voice was throaty, deep, especially when he expressed gratification. He held Dean with a magnified intensity now, having realised what their proximity could reward him with. One hand steadied Dean’s knee as Castiel drove against his belly, slipping alongside Dean’s erection, which was achingly hard. Like Dean, Castiel had his eyes closed half the time, savouring the way sex made him senseless as well as overly aware.

“Ungh,” Castiel grunted, sneering as his breath started coming harder. “Fuck.”

Dean laughed at the cuss, head falling back. Then he groaned, grin withered. “Cas...”

Castiel opened his eyes, panting furiously over Dean’s face as he carried on plunging forward and sinking back. “Dean. I— I want... Oh, Dean, I want to see you wearing what I bought you. The red... You’d look so beautiful, I’m sure of it...”

Dean bit his lip, holding back a whimper as a surge of exhilaration flooded him, sending another spurt of fluid out across his belly. “I’m— Aaahh... Oh my... gh...”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel whispered, biting once at Dean’s lower lip, nibbling the same place Dean had nibbled himself. When Castiel let go, he soothed him with a kiss. “I dreamed about you in – mh – something similar. But dreams – they’re so fleeting, I wish I could’ve seen you more clearly.”

“Tell me,” Dean breathed, shaking. “Cas, tell me.”

“I don’t... Tell you what?”

“Tell me to put it on,” Dean said, trying to speak as softly as possible, so his words didn’t count as something he said aloud. “Make me do it.”

Castiel frowned for a second, but then the frown disappeared, and Dean saw compassion in his eyes. Castiel lowered his chin, eyes set firmly on Dean. The rocking movement of their bodies eased to nothing.

In a commanding voice, Castiel said, “Go and put on the clothes I brought you, Dean.”

Dean’s spine arched and he cried out, his whole body undulating with a very potent bliss.

Castiel gave a hum, fingers stroking Dean’s cheek. “You like that too?”

Dean nodded over and over, eyes closed as a whimper somehow escaped his throat. Then came a helpless whine of “Yeaaah,” and he shivered from head to toe. “I... I like being told—”

“Told what to do.” Castiel kissed him. “I understand.” His voice was sleek and gentle, like satin. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

Dean laughed bashfully, covering his face with a hand. “I’m a wreck.”

Castiel kissed his hand, and when Dean lifted his hand to peek at him, Castiel kissed his nose. “You’re my wreck, and you are sublime. Now go on, Dean. Put on your new clothes.”

Castiel rolled off him. Dean had to lie still for a beat, getting his bearings. Then he sat up, looking down at his lap to see his erection at full-mast, wet and shiny. Dean touched himself slowly, turning his chin over his shoulder to look at Castiel, who sat further back on the bed, an expectant look on his face.

Dean sighed, happy.

“What?” Castiel said, a smile playing on his lips.

“Nothin’,” Dean grinned, getting up and going to get the box from the floor. “There’s just something kinda awesome about seeing you like this. You’re always wrapped in a shirt and a trenchcoat, and you get all awkward in unfamiliar situations.” Dean crouched, picking up the box, then going to put it on the bed, eyes on Castiel. “If you were as nervous as I am right now, I don’t think we’d be having this much fun.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkled as he tilted his head. “You’re nervous?”

Dean nodded, eyes down on the box. Taking a breath, he tried to focus on what was there. “This thing’s real pretty,” he said, taking hold of the shoulder straps and lifting the garment like he did before. It draped easily, semi-transparent, with fluffy white fur trim all around the top and bottom hem. A red satin ribbon tied the two open sides together for show; Dean set down the whole thing so he could undo it.

“Do you want help putting it on?” Castiel asked.

“It’s a scrap of material, Cas, it’s not hard to put on,” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel agreed, “but I... I want to touch you.”

Dean’s eyes shot over to him, seeing what could only be described as hunger in his eyes. Castiel had been craving Dean’s closeness for many years, and now he was allowed to put his hands where he wanted, he had no intention of holding back.

Dean nodded, eyes down again. Castiel crawled to the edge of the bed and set his feet to the carpet. Dean handed him the babydoll top, then held his arms behind him like a lady waiting for someone to help her put on her coat. Castiel handled the top for Dean that way, sliding the fabric until it hung fluidly past his nipples, hiding them under sheer red chiffon. Faux fur tickled at his collarbone, growing warm from the heat of his body.

Dean sighed in enjoyment as he felt Castiel’s hand slide under the top, caressing his hip and his stomach from behind. Dean felt Castiel’s other hand on his lower back, pushing – he bent forward, breathing with his mouth open as he leaned into the bed, ass in the air for Castiel.

“I’ll do it up for you in a moment,” Castiel said. “First I just... I need to...”

Dean felt Castiel run his thumb down the crease between his buttocks, skimming his anus – Dean moaned out loud, fearless – Castiel then changed the position of his hand to slide his fingers between Dean’s thighs. “Caaaaas...”

Castiel hummed a note of satisfaction, hand moving to Dean’s hip. “Stand up.”

Dean stood straight, grabbing his erection and pumping it a few times, breath floating out in uneven little huffs. He turned when Castiel turned him, and he stood gazing at the other man as his nimble fingers reached up to tie the satin ribbon, pulling the two halves of the front together.

“You look... gorgeous,” Castiel said, looking at Dean’s nipples, then his erection, then back up to his eyes. “Put the other part on, now.”

“What other part?”

“It’s in the box,” Castiel said, stepping back so Dean could get the box himself.

Dean pulled the box closer with a finger, then flicked at the white tissue paper curiously. He then lifted one more layer of paper, and gasped when he saw what was arranged perfectly on the paper below.

“Cas, you got me panties?”

Castiel kissed Dean’s neck, nosing him from behind. “You dreamed about them, that part I’m absolutely sure of.”

Dean huffed, surprised – but not that surprised. “I gotta put these on,” he whispered, snatching them out of the box and holding them up. He grinned a shaky grin, seeing the delicate, stretchy lace, coloured the same red as the top. They were a simple design, but Dean liked simple when it meant his junk would fit comfortably.

Dean turned around and sat on the bed, setting his feet into the leg holes of the panties. Castiel stroked his neck, and Dean looked up at him, full of appreciation as he skimmed his panties up his legs.

He stood up to pull them the last few inches, and when he looked down, he beamed. Castiel moved in to tuck Dean’s erection into the fabric; it had softened enough that it could be hidden along the dip of Dean’s hips, angled to the right.

“You should do that more,” Dean said, looking up at Castiel. “Touch my dick, I mean.”

“Oh, I will,” Castiel said, eyes on Dean’s mouth. “Lie on the bed again, Dean. Whatever position you’d like.”

Dean’s heart leapt in excitement, and he instantly knew which position he wanted to try. He got onto the bed, then crawled into the middle of the bed on his hands and knees. He stayed there, putting his head down to the covers and raising his ass. He smiled, feeling chiffon sliding up his back, dragged by gravity, and he felt the lace panties stretching across his ass as he presented himself to Castiel.

Dean’s breath stuttered as he felt Castiel’s hand on his ass, smoothing in circles.

“Oh,” Dean murmured, eyes falling closed when Castiel’s fingers ran the seams of his inner thighs. The movement ended at his perineum, where Castiel cupped one hand and mapped out the shape of that space. Dean moaned lowly, spreading his knees a short way. Castiel’s fingers traced the swell between his legs again, crinkling fabric on the most sensitive inches of Dean’s skin. Dean opened his mouth and let free a long, long hum, a whine – some undefinable noise of pleasure. His fists clenched up in the bedsheets, breath dancing over his hand.

“Cas,” he whispered, feeling a shiver course down his spine as Castiel pressed his fingers on his anus, lace separating their skin. Kisses fell upon Dean’s shoulders, loving kisses. “Oh, Cas, yes...”

“How do you feel?” Castiel asked, mouth moving on Dean’s shoulder blade. A kiss, a swipe with the tip of his nose, then another kiss. “Dean, tell me.”

“I’m aaaaah,” Dean groaned, then promptly laughed at himself. “I’m so messed up right now, oh God. All the – fuck – the little touches, whatever you’re doing, I’m just so... so totally...” He lost the ability to speak, as Castiel’s hand had curled around to his stomach, then slid up, a thumb and a forefinger finding a nipple to play with. Dean felt pre-come soaking into his panties, and he keened, chin pushing into the mattress as his head tipped back.

“What would you like me to do with you?” Castiel asked, kissing the back of Dean’s neck. His erection was pressing on Dean’s ass, neatly aligned with the dip. He was humping ever so gently: his desire was clear, even if he wasn’t aware. Dean couldn’t help but notice.

“Ff—” Dean managed, before he started trembling again, legs spreading further, dizziness becoming a physical sensation running in his veins, buzzing and coiling from head to toe. Castiel kissed open-mouthed on his ear, breathing so hot and so soft that Dean could feel his needy sounds thrumming in his heart.

“Speak, Dean,” Castiel whispered to his shoulder, riding into him again, pressing Dean closer to the mattress.

“Wh— Why’re you doing this to me?!” Dean gasped out, a feverish sweat breaking out over his entire back. “Eh— Either— Oh god, oh— Either let me sp-speak or... mmmhmm... or t-touch me... I c— I can’t...”

Castiel grinned, teeth poking tenderly on the muscle of Dean’s shoulders, the tip of his tongue tasting his skin. “I like hearing you stutter, Dean. I’ll make it hard for you speak because I so love when you moan. All your noises, Dean. This is one way you can be helpless and not feel fear. You can trust me. You can trust me, always. And you’re safe; I won’t hurt you. Now... tell me.” He craned over Dean’s shoulder, a hand on his lower back so Dean was pinned flat to the bed with a thump. He felt heat in his ear as Castiel whispered, “What pleasure do you crave?”

Dean bit his lip, grinning. Castiel remained still, allowing Dean to catch his breath to speak. “I w— I wanna – have you inside me. I wanna be that close. Get that hot.”

“Mnnnh,” Castiel purred, mouth open on Dean’s neck. “Yes. Yes, Dean, we can do that.”

“Th— There’s, um.... stuff, there’s stuff in my bag,” Dean said, managing to focus enough to think. He set his torso up on his elbows, his lower half weighed down by Castiel. Castiel kept kissing his back, fingers twirling across too-hot skin. “In my toiletry bag there’s hand lotion. And we need—” Dean squinted. “Fuck, I don’t have condoms. I don’t have any condoms.” He thumped his forehead down on the bed, frowning with his eyes screwed up. “I never expected this...”

“It’s all right,” Castiel whispered. “Don’t worry, Dean, I can still give you what you want. Will my fingers satisfy you? Can we try that?”

Dean’s whole body rushed with flame, and he pressed his hips into the bed, nodding furiously. “Mmyeah. Yeah, yes. Please. Fuck—”

Castiel laughed quietly, not giving Dean a chance to be shy about his enthusiasm. Dean’s begging turned to a moan as Castiel bit the back of his neck, his hips digging into Dean’s lower back so he could rut against him, sweat slicking his way. Castiel sighed, clearly enjoying using Dean as some kind of toy. Dean had no complaints – it hadn’t been too hard for him to figure out he liked being played with.

“My bag,” Dean breathed. “Cas, c’mon—”

“Patience,” Castiel breathed, lifting his body off of Dean’s, giving him a parting kiss on his shoulder. “I’ll get what we need, you stay here and get comfortable.”

Dean smiled, nodding as Castiel left him. He rearranged himself, grabbing a pillow from the headboard and cramming it under his hips. Then he grabbed another one, listening to Castiel rummaging through his bag, finding his leather toiletry pouch and unzipping it, sorting past his toothbrush and his nail care kit to get what he was searching for.

When Dean was comfortable, he settled down and spread out the sides of his chiffon lingerie so it didn’t cling too close to his body, then he lay his head down on his outstretched forearms. He was relaxed. Wow – he realised he was completely chilled out, despite the thump of his heart and the adrenaline he had rushing through him. His back was turned to his lover, who was going through Dean’s personal effects, and Dean wasn’t the slightest bit on edge. Dean had never felt so damn taken care of with an intimate partner... maybe ever.

He smiled and shut his eyes as he felt Castiel’s weight dip the bed, coming closer again.

“I have the hand lotion,” Castiel said, caressing Dean’s thigh with an open hand, sliding to hold the sensitive inner part of his leg, thumb stroking. “Are you ready?”

Dean nodded. “Mm-hm. More kissin’ first though.”

Castiel laughed, leaning closer. “Of course, Dean,” he said, lips pressing to the centre of Dean’s back, babydoll top fingered out of the way. Kisses trailed down, following the curve in Dean’s spine until Castiel’s stubble prickled at the top band of the panties, then he kissed a trail back up. Returning to Dean’s neck, Castiel began to mouth at Dean’s nape, then groaned and sank his head forward so he could bite and nibble at his throat. Dean stretched his neck out, rolling his ass back to rub on Castiel’s half-hard penis.

Castiel’s hand snuck in between their bodies, and Dean let out a yelp of excitement as he felt fingers breach the back of the panties, stretching them so they pulled on his pubic hair at the front. An exhilarating sensation struck him a second later as the stretch dragged lace against his foreskin.

Castiel touched his fingertips to Dean’s anus, then pressed, moving in a swirling, circular motion. Dean was panting by now, hands gripped white in the bedcovers, a pathetic noise making its way out from deep in his throat. “Oh— Cas, Cas... Shhhh—”

Castiel removed his hand from inside Dean’s panties; Dean groaned in relief and desperate need, his insides howling in his conflict, crazed by how it felt not to have Castiel’s fingers on him. Dean felt a chill as Castiel uncapped the hand lotion bottle, then poured some lotion onto his fingers.

“Are you excited?” Castiel asked, his dry hand smoothing over Dean’s ass, coaxing Dean into lifting his hips and offering himself for a tease.

“Really, totally up for this,” Dean mumbled, speaking into the bedcovers. “Ohmmm... I wanna do it now. Kinda – hh – desperate for it here. Like, right now, that would be good...”

“All right, Dean,” Castiel said.

Fingers pulled back the panties, and Dean felt his erection leap in anticipation. He cried out as wet, cool fingers slicked their way over and past his entrance, then returned to lavish attention on the most sensitive part, the puckered centre of so many nerves, all of them ignited with what felt like sparks of electricity.

“Ye-h-hesss,” Dean exhaled, fucking into the pillows under him in a wave of passion. “Oh, that’s good. Feels so good, Cas.”

“Do you want a warning before I do anything, or would you prefer not to know?” Castiel asked, slinking forwards again to kiss Dean’s upper arm. Castiel’s elbow was probably crooked at an awkward angle, but Dean couldn’t even begin to sympathise when his mind was nothing but a haze of colour and warm feelings. “Dean?”

“Just do it,” Dean moaned. “Wanna feel you— AUH! Ouhhhhhh, Cas...!”

Castiel’s finger was wide and thick, sliding to the first knuckle. It was enough to make Dean crave more, but at the same time, he was captivated by the strange feeling of a finger just being inside his tight hole. Castiel slid it back and forth by perhaps an eighth of an inch, while Dean arched his back and hissed in immense pleasure, curling back to press Castiel’s finger deeper. It sank to the second knuckle, then Castiel pulled out.

“No... More,” Dean demanded, mouthing at the bedsheets. “Again...”

Castiel slid in again, this time going to the second knuckle easily. Dean sighed happily, relaxing a little. His erection was softening, but he was fine with that if he could feel Castiel’s hand instead. A second finger nudged at his hole, barely covering the niceties before plunging in to join the first. Dean gasped, panting again.

Castiel held Dean’s hip with his free hand, pushing him closer to the bed. Dean went where he was guided, and soon Castiel began to hump, rock-hard against him, wanting to rub while he fingered Dean. Dean moaned again and let him, let him thrust against the fat of his ass, feeling the lace accept the wetness that Castiel smeared across his skin.

Castiel shifted those two fingers in and out in time with his irregular hip movements – Dean soon realised Castiel was focusing most of his attention on his fingers rather than his hips, trying his utmost not to hurt him.

“Feels amazing,” Dean breathed, then let go of a whine he would never have tolerated if he were with anyone else. “Cas... Ah!”

Castiel slowed to add a new squirt of hand lotion. Dean heard the bottle snap closed, then Castiel slid a third finger inside him, its temperature cooler than Dean expected it to be. He shivered in delight, keeping still as Castiel pushed in so deeply that Dean felt his tight muscles straining; he cried out, loving that weird kind of pain-pleasure. Without the excessive lubricant it wouldn’t have been nearly this good: Dean adored the way Castiel’s fingers moved in slippery twitches even when he tried to hold his position. Dean wanted more.

“C’mon,” Dean breathed. “You wanna hear me moan, so make me moan.”

Castiel took that as an invitation to slip a fourth finger in, and Dean yelped. “No— Too much, too tight—”

“Sorry,” Castiel said, easing his fingers back out, then re-inserting only two. Dean hummed, enjoying the snugness of his flesh around Castiel’s fingertips.

Castiel worked Dean gently for a few minutes. Dean settled into the rhythm and began to sigh with each slide, squirming when Castiel would swap his fingers and a different width would bury itself in Dean’s warmth.

Castiel peppered Dean’s back with kisses, occasionally rubbing his cheek or his nose against his skin. Dean would only moan when Castiel closed the distance and dragged his erection along Dean’s back – mostly because Castiel’s fingers hit his prostate at that angle, but also because Castiel’s penis was touching him – but Castiel didn’t push to do that a whole lot. Dean knew Cas wanted to hear him lose control but he couldn’t do it all the time. He kept pulling himself back in case he lost it completely.

“Still scared,” Castiel said, the fifth time Dean stifled his moan out of self-consciousness. “My fingers are stroking your ass from the inside, Dean, and you’re still struggling to tell me if it works for you. I need to know. You realise that, don’t you? I need to know if it feels good.”

“Oh, trust me, it does,” Dean said, staring at the bedsheets, watching Castiel’s shadow shift around Dean’s shoulder. “But, I’m not gonna fake a moan just because you want to know I’m having a good time.”

Castiel chuckled. “You don’t need to.”

Then Castiel exhaled slowly, and it sounded like a forlorn sigh.

Dean suddenly realised how selfish he was being. Cas was getting bored, and Dean was so obsessed with what he wanted that he’d forgotten Castiel wanted to get off too. Inattentiveness was not something Dean prided himself on.

“Maybe we can try another position,” Dean suggested. “You’re not getting anything like this.”

“I want to make you come first,” Castiel said, skimming a fingertip over Dean’s prostate, making him buck. “That’s my goal. Make you come, and then—” He licked his lips, resting his forehead down between Dean’s shoulder blades, “then I want you to lick me. If that’s all right with you.”

“Mmm.” Dean bit his lip and pushed back into Castiel’s fingers, more eager to finish now he knew what was in store later. “Suck you off. God yes – I want that. C’mon, let’s do this. Let’s make me come.”

He felt Castiel’s smile on his skin, felt him panting where the bumps of his bones rose from his back. “Push yourself on me,” Castiel said. “Don’t just lie there, Dean; work for it.”

Dean lifted his hips and shifted them a little, trying to find a good way to rock back on Castiel’s fingers. He gasped as Castiel bit him, sucking right after, mouth sealed to one shoulder blade. Dean grunted lightly, hands screwing into fists the second he found his pleasure spot, striking it with Castiel’s fingertip. Dean tried to recreate the movement, over and over, until he was fulfilling Castiel’s demand, fucking himself back on his hand.

“Good, Dean,” Castiel said, breathing over the sensitive mark he’d left on his back. “Now touch yourself.”

Blazing with excitement, Dean slid a hand from the bed to between his legs, gasping as felt the stretchy lace move on his dick. “I’m not that hard,” he muttered, then grunted – and the grunt turned to a moan as he hit his prostate again, then stayed there, arching into the pressure. “Oohh—!”

“That’s it,” Castiel whispered, something dangerous in his voice. “Make yourself hard, Dean. Is there anything I can do that would help?”

“P-Put your other hand... here,” Dean said, slipping his hand inside his panties. “Oh— Oh my God, it’s so wet... Been seeping out this whole time.” His breath fluttered in his mouth as Castiel’s hand slid around his wrist, the contact sleek on his skin until his palm covered the back of Dean’s hand, then moved to touch what Dean was touching. Their fingertips met in the mess Dean had left in the lace, the liquid still body-temperature and very sticky. Dean moaned – fucking moaned – as Castiel touched the head of his cock, index finger immediately seeking out the slit, then putting a barely-there pressure against it.

“Mghh—”

“Sensitive,” Castiel whispered. It was an accurate observation. His other fingers pulled back Dean’s foreskin, exposing the rim of his cockhead to the lace. Castiel rubbed it on the fabric on purpose, dragging another ragged screech out of Dean, making him buck forward, sweating all over, a writhing need in his bones. He moaned again and again, broken noises that caught in his throat and tripped on his tongue; he ached to have Castiel take him apart even further, and he went on penetrating himself on Castiel’s hand.

Castiel groaned out a low note of pleasure, consumed by hearing Dean so turned on. His fingers tugged Dean to a half-stiffness, then nearly all the way to solidity, pumping him until Dean was leaking into the lace again, aware his fluid was trickling over Castiel’s hand too.

“Oh, Cas— Oh, ouh—” Dean’s noises became more like grunts, sometimes a mouthy hum or a whine. Judging by the pressure building up in the tensest parts his body – his back, his thighs, the space right between his spread legs – he knew he was getting close. “Cas, Cas – Cas, ple-hease, ohh—-”

With the fingers of one hand inside him, the other hand playing with him, it was so much. Too much, almost.

Yeah, he lost it. Dean shut his eyes and he screamed, hands in the sheets, ass thrust back to make Castiel’s fingers go as deep as they possibly could. He wasn’t coming yet, he was so close but he wasn’t there – gasping, gasping, eyes blind and watering. “Cas, ple— Ouah, yes, moremoremore, yes, yes—”

Dean’s finale was so perfectly timed, it seemed like Castiel had planned this beforehand: he pressed his erection to Dean’s ass, shifted his fingers so he got Dean’s prostate, put pressure on his cockslit, and growled out into Dean’s ear, “Let go, Dean. You’re safe.” He applied every trick that made Dean wild with abandon, all at once.

Dean felt the scorching heat of his own semen covering the lace, splashing Castiel’s hand as he tugged his orgasm out of him, fingers waiting to catch what Dean spilled. Dean wailed, sobbing into the mattress. “Ouh-hhh, Cas... Cas...” He could hear weakness in his own moan, and for once his weakness felt good. Castiel’s name was the only name he ever wanted to say that way.

“That’s it, Dean,” Castiel groaned, fingers slowing to a gentle sweep, massaging out the last few spurts of leftover come. “There, you did it. Well done. Well done.” He ever so slowly retrieved his fingers from Dean’s ass, leaving his hole cold. Dean felt like it was still wide open, and incredibly sensitive; muscles clenched and relaxed seemingly of their own accord. He murmured, his mind too bleary to pay attention as Castiel pulled his hands out of Dean’s panties.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, kissing Dean’s neck. “Let me clean my hands.” He moved away, making the bed wobble.

“Dihhh... Was it okay?” Dean asked, slurring his words. “Did I do okay?”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, so gently. “You were wonderful. You’re beautiful and you show it so well when you let go.” Dean felt the bed dip again, hearing the crinkle of a thick plastic packet. “You like praise, too, don’t you?”

Dean sniffled as he caught his breath, hiding his face down against the back of his wrist. “I d’nno.” Castiel started to wipe his ass with a baby wipe, cold and wet between his buttcheeks. Dean lifted his hips and let Castiel do his thing, resting his face on his hand and looking across the room, still dazed.

“When you communicate this openly with me, my heart just... lights up,” Castiel said, smiling as he put a bristly kiss on Dean’s neck. “I’m so happy we did this.”

“It’s not over yet,” Dean muttered, feeling a smile tug at his lips. “I’ve never – y’know – sucked cock before.”

“I’ll let you control it, take it at your pace,” Castiel said. Dean grinned, amused by the fact Castiel’s dominance was a given, the default way to do things, and to have Dean take control was something Castiel had to allow. To be perfectly honest, Dean prefered it like that, despite being the only one with sexual experience. Castiel clearly knew what he was doing.

Once Castiel finished wiping Dean’s back, he cleaned his own hands with a fresh towelette. “You’re quiet,” he observed.

“Just thinking,” Dean sighed. “I’m... kinda glad you’ve never had a blowjob before. I’m gonna suck at it.”

“I thought that was the point.”

Dean laughed, becoming less anxious because of it. He smiled, feeling Castiel’s hand stroke his back.

“I’m sure you’ll find yourself to be adept at using your mouth on me,” Castiel assured him. “You were perfect at what we already did.”

“Getting my ass stuffed full of angel, you mean?” Dean grinned.

“Precisely,” Castiel said, then laughed in his tumbling, hummy way.

It went quiet for a while, as Castiel threw away the dirty towelettes and put the packet of baby wipes back in Dean’s duffel bag. Then Castiel lay on top of Dean, semi-stiff dick lined up with his ass. Dean smiled, enjoying the hug. Castiel bumped his prickly chin on his shoulder, then gave him a kiss.

“Dean,” Castiel said, in a tone that implied he had a question. “...You know how much you crave praise. Being told you did something correctly, you like that.”

Dean blinked, then nodded. “Mm-mhm.” He’d never thought about it enough to put it into words, but yes, Castiel’s phrasing seemed accurate.

“I do too,” Castiel said. “So I want to ask... did I do everything right?”

Dean laughed, nodding. “Yeah! Cas, you were awesome. Dare I say it, best sex I ever had?”

Castiel lifted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned, rolling over onto his back. Castiel moved to Dean’s right but remained lying on his belly, so Dean rested his side flush against Castiel’s, lingerie crinkled between them. Dean’s cheek turned to the side so he could gaze into those intense blue eyes, seeing them full of hopeful enthusiasm.

Dean reached across to touch Castiel’s thigh, which was fluffy with leg hair. “Listen, Cas,” he said, caressing the back of Castiel’s thigh. “I’ve been around a bit. The takeaway from a sexual encounter varies from person to person. The chemistry between personalities, body types, energy levels, moods – it all makes a huge difference. I’ve had sex so good it left me practically comatose afterwards. But I’ve never been this... satisfied. Like, yeah – we just did the right thing. This was meant to happen.” A smile spread across his face. “You ‘n me were meant to be.”

Castiel’s eyes dipped to Dean’s lips, and Dean shifted his head closer so Castiel could kiss him. It was a kiss of agreement, of relief (finally, after all these years) – but it was also a kiss of longing. Castiel still wanted something, and he wouldn’t be as satisfied as Dean until he got it.

“Are you still hard?” Dean murmured into the kiss. Castiel hummed a noncommittal noise, and Dean kissed him again. They broke the kiss over and over, but found themselves unable to separate for more than a second.

Castiel had to push Dean off him in the end. Dean licked at his sore lips, feeling hungry-eyed. Yes, his libido was sated for now, but seeing Castiel look at him like that, with devotion and need, Dean felt desire rearing its head again. Castiel kissed him once more, body pressing to Dean’s bare skin.

“Sit up for me,” Castiel murmured, lips lingering on Dean’s. “I want to put my penis in your mouth now.”

Dean grinned, eyes crinkling up as he examined Castiel’s greedy expression. “Hearing sexy words outta your mouth sounds like the first few times I ever heard cuss words, you know? Makes me feel wrong all over. You shouldn’t be saying that crap.” He kissed Castiel on the lips, humming while he nuzzled closer. “So don’t you ever stop.”

Castiel put a little trail of kisses across Dean’s mouth, then his stubble and his chin. “Get on your knees in the middle of the bed, Dean,” he said, a basic note of lust running under his already deep voice. “Sit straight and open your mouth.”

“Shhhit,” Dean breathed, needing to wait until the full-body sparkle subsided before he could respond. He started to move, shifting himself halfway to a kneel. “Where the hell did you learn to talk so dirty?”

“How is it dirty?” Castiel asked, sitting up too, a hand on Dean’s thigh. “I thought I was being as clear as possible.”

“You are. But when you straight-up say what you want like that, it’s hot.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “In that case, I want—”

“I know,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I know what you want from me, you don’t need to say it aloud.” He got onto his knees and sat back on his heels, blankets pooled around him. He fussed with his babydoll top, letting the faux fur rest on his thighs, making sure the front didn’t look saggy. He touched his panties, excited when he felt his own come slip against his skin. It was still warm and wet.

He felt Castiel’s fingers on his chin, and he followed their guide upward, meeting Castiel’s eyes. Cas kneeled above, knees planted either side of Dean’s thighs.

“What do you think I want?” Castiel asked, eyebrows drawing together. “Other than oral-genital contact, I mean. What do you think is my end goal here?”

Dean licked his lips, feeling a thrill pass through him like a ghost. He liked how it felt: hot, charged with a sexual energy. He held Castiel’s gaze, his words coming out husky as he voiced his interpretation aloud, “You wanna – claim me. I’m yours now. Nobody else gets to play with me after tonight ‘cept you.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, his lips parting. His frown cleared away, but he didn’t say anything. He lowered his gaze and he stroked Dean’s chin with his thumb, and Dean knew then he was right.

“Are you okay with that?” Castiel asked, voice low.

Dean nodded, setting his lips against Castiel’s fingers and kissing them, then reaching a hand to cup his wrist and bring it closer so he could kiss it again. When Castiel looked at him, Dean kissed his hand one more time, not letting let Castiel’s eyes stray. “From this moment henceforth, my ass is the property of C. Winchester,” Dean said, with a smirk. “So’s my mouth. And my hands. And every other bit of me.”

Castiel looked baffled, and amazed. “You’ll be my one and only?”

Dean chuckled, lowering his head and breaking eye contact. “Yeah, sure,” he said, stretching his fingers to link through Castiel’s. “Somethin’ sappy like that.”

“It’s hard to believe that’s really what you want,” Castiel said, inching his hips closer so his mostly-softened cock pressed to Dean’s chest. “Are you sure you mean that?”

“Cas,” Dean laughed, head still lowered, “I’m giving you my goddamn heart here, ‘kay? Least you could do is believe me.”

“I do believe you,” Castiel insisted, lifting Dean’s face again. Dean looked into his eyes and recognised the sincerity in his words. “I believe you, but I also know you well enough to worry you might one day go back on your word. So I want you to know, Dean, even if you do, I won’t hold it ag—”

“Oh, shut your face, would you, Cas?!” Dean growled, shoving Castiel in the side and making him lose his balance. “I’m not gonna cheat on you! Jesus Christ. You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Castiel asked, unnerved. He knelt before Dean again, this time back on his heels, mirroring him.

“How much I care about you,” Dean said, reaching to touch Castiel’s heart. He felt it beat against his palm, and he watched his hand smooth over that part of Castiel’s skin. “How much I love you— And I’m not gonna get tired of you, all right,” he said in a haste, trying to move past his confession. “I’m not gonna get bored, or distracted. You know me. Good bits and bad bits. I’m fine with that, like I’m fine with everything about you. I clearly can’t hide shit from you, but track record says you’re pretty damn good at keeping stuff from me.”

Castiel’s eyelids fluttered low, and Dean leaned to kiss him, forgiving him. “You have your secrets,” Dean said, a whisper against Castiel’s lips. “And I love that, Cas. I love that you can lie to my face and get away with it. Sam can’t do that. Bobby couldn’t, Kevin can’t, and Charlie – well, Charlie’s a dead loss when it comes to lying. That’s part of why you’re so special to me. Precious,” he added, wanting to use that word. “You’re precious to me. And why’s that, Cas? Huh?”

Castiel shrugged, and Dean chuckled, caressing his cheek. “Because you can surprise me. You can hide gifts from me, you can tone down your intelligence – you’re one smart cookie and I always knew it, Cas – you can make stupid decisions behind my back and go a year without breathing a word. That ability became a reason I need you, and why I never want to be with anyone but you. You keep surprising me, Cas, and I’m yours forever.”

Castiel was wide-eyed, looking at Dean like he’d blessed him with a Biblical miracle. He said absolutely nothing, and once ten seconds went by in silence, Dean laughed, headbutting Castiel’s forehead. “You’re such a sweetheart, too.” He kissed Castiel’s cheek, then exhaled as he lingered there. “C’mon,” he breathed. “Am I gonna suck you off or are you gonna stay pent-up forever?”

“I—” Castiel gulped, “I would like to— Yes.”

“Now?”

Castiel nodded, nosing at Dean’s jaw. “If you’ll allow me... I want to make you mine.”

Dean smiled, fingers spreading through Castiel’s hair. “You’re a bit behind the times, buddy,” he said, pulling Castiel’s head back so he could kiss him, just once. He held his eye, wanting Castiel to see how much he meant it when he said, “I’ve been yours for years.”

“But you—”

“My body strayed,” Dean admitted with a shrug. “But that thing in my heart, that weird achy feeling that whoever I was with wasn’t the right person... that was all for you.”

“Do you still ache now we’re – together?”

Dean shook his head. He was smiling as he went for another kiss, readying himself for what was to come. The only thing that ached now was his belly, full up with the fluttering wings of anticipation. He was gonna give Cas the best fucking first-time blowjob ever, he was sure of it.

“Oh, gosh – thank you,” Sam said, taking the cup of hot chocolate Janine handed him. He cleared a space beside his laptop, making sure not a drop spilled on the pristine white tablecloth. “You know, you really don’t need to keep bringing me hot chocolate, Janine.”

“I’m bringing all the guests who came downstairs hot chocolate,” Janine replied, flapping a dishcloth at him. “Everyone’s Christmas is ruined by being here; I might as well supply a neverending sugar high to keep people happy.”

Sam looked at her in mild exasperation. “You can’t think that,” he said, lowering the hot mug from his lips, licking away foam. “It’s beautiful here, this whole experience has been amazing. I mean, yeah, there’s other places we can’t be, and people we’re missing, but what this B&B provides is way, way better than what anyone should call ‘ruined’. There’s no better place to be stranded over Christmas than right here.”

Janine sighed gratefully, then turned her eyes towards the dozen other people chatting at the tables, their faces lit in gold by the hanging chandeliers.

“I only have one complaint,” Sam said, grinning when Janine looked at him, “and that’s that the water is all freezing cold.”

“Like I said,” Janine groused, “absolutely ruined. Since it’s Christmas, we can’t even get a plumber in to unfreeze the hot water pipes.”

Sam blinked. “You know – I’m actually... sort of handy with that kind of thing...”

“Really?”

Sam chuckled, seeing enthusiasm all over Janine’s face. “I worked as a handyman for a while,” he nodded. “I could take a look?”

“I wish I didn’t have to ask, Sam; you’re a guest here...”

“Please, it’s nothing,” Sam said, closing his laptop. “I have some time to kill anyway; my brother and his boyfriend probably have a lot to argue about.”

“They’re all right, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam chuckled, packing up his things, stealing one last sip from his hot chocolate before abandoning it beside the other four mugs. “Just a little dispute about their gifts.”

When Sam returned to the room, it was nearly nine o’clock at night. He stood in the hallway outside, staring at the stair light and the single moth that fluttered madly around it. Aside from the sound of the insect bumping into the light, the entire upper landing was silent.

Taking a breath, Sam knocked on the door.

He waited...

No answer.

He knocked again, but again there was no response from inside. The lights were on; Sam could see a yellow line shining against his snow-sodden boots.

Cautiously, Sam took hold of the door handle and turned. It wasn’t locked: the door swung open, and Sam entered.

The bathroom door was open. Was anyone even here?

“Hello?” he called.

He got to the corner and immediately saw both Dean and Castiel sleeping on the bed. Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and in silence he mouthed, “Oh my God.”

Castiel was completely naked, his mussed-up hair making him appear frazzled. His thigh lay angled towards Dean, and his hairy calf linked behind Dean’s. But that wasn’t what startled Sam. Dean was not entirely naked, but dressed in that see-through red thing with the fluffy Santa trim. Sam accepted what he saw with a grace and a speed that surprised even him. What really got Sam, though, was the sight of Dean wearing what looked very much like a pair of red panties. Sam’s mouth dropped open as he saw how tight they were around Dean’s junk – and their crusty stain.

“Oh my God,” Sam said out loud, unable to hold back his shock. He laughed and gasped at once, realising he’d woken the other two. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning with his hands raised in a gesture of apology. “Holy crap.”

“Sam—!” Dean’s voice was sleep-thick and his eyes were squinting, but he was awake enough to grab the nearest blanket in an attempt to preserve his modesty. “Sam, what the hell—”

“I just walked in, I didn’t realise you’d be— Shoot,” Sam couldn’t stop laughing, despite seeing how uncomfortable Dean was. Cas didn’t seem fazed, but Dean was hyperventilating slightly while growing red in the face. “I’ll get out of your way!” Sam said, backing towards the door, putting his laptop bag down to lean against the wall. “Call me when you’re dressed.”

He shut himself in the hallway, cackling to himself as he stood there.

“Hoooh, boy,” he sighed, trying to settle down. He shut his eyes tightly, grinning and grimacing at the same time as the memory of Dean’s panties patched with semen arrived uninvited in his head. It was hilarious, and it would be even funnier if it weren’t utterly revolting. Sam covered his mouth with his hands and let out a long muffled yell. He let his hands fall, and he shook his head until the hysterical chuckles faded again.

He paced for a few seconds, listening to his shoes scuffing the floorboards. He stopped pacing when he heard low voices from inside the room, and he paid attention in case they were talking about him.

They weren’t, as it turned out.

“—wondering if we might share,” Castiel said, in a slow, gentle voice. Sam had rarely heard him speak so tenderly.

“That’s real sweet, Cas,” Dean replied, in a hesitant tone that Sam knew well – but he spoke softly too. Sam could just imagine him standing close to Castiel, as Dean liked to do, a hand lifting to touch Castiel’s forearm. Sam had long suspected they were braver about touching each other when he wasn’t around.

“...But?” Castiel prompted, since Dean hadn’t elaborated.

“But... I – I mean, this is kind of new, right? You and me? Um. This is gonna sound juvenile, but I don’t think I’m – ready to share a shower with you yet. Like, I just need some time alone. In private.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. “Maybe some other time.”

Dean gave a soft laugh, which Sam pulled a face at. Really? Dean never laughed like that. Sam’s expression wiped itself away when he heard Castiel add, “At least let me give you one more kiss?”

Dean did that weird soft laugh again, and it went quiet for a while. Sam reached up and covered his face with a hand, overly aware that Dean and Castiel were probably lip-locked right now.

After a good thirty seconds, Sam heard the bathroom door close. A moment later, the door to the room opened, and Sam turned around to see Castiel standing there to let him in. “Cas,” Sam said. His eyes drew downwards of their own accord, and then shot up to the ceiling. “You’re not wearing anything.”

“I’m going to get dressed now,” Castiel reasoned, heading back into the room, his bare ass fast becoming the only thing Sam could see, even when his eyes were directed elsewhere. Cas did have a nice backside, Sam had to admit.

“So, uh,” Sam said, closing the door behind him, then following Castiel towards the main part of the room. “You and Dean.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, bending to pick up his underwear and put it on. Sam balked when he noticed it was Dean’s underwear – Sam had been on laundry duty enough times to recognise his things. Incidentally, those red panties were brand new.

Sam sat down on the bed and kept his back turned while Castiel put his clothes back on. “I take it you had a good evening.”

“Very good,” Castiel said, a smile in his voice. “Your brother is incredibly talented.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “I... don’t even want to know. Talented, right—! But I get the feeling you’re not talking about his knack for physics.”

“Well, I am,” Castiel said, voice muffled through cloth as he pulled on a shirt, “but perhaps I mean a different kind of physics than you.”

Sam laughed and groaned, leaning forward over his thighs to cover his face with his hands. “I can’t believe I walked in on this. Ugh. I can never unsee what I saw. If the Men in Black could turn up right now with their memory zapper thing, I’d take that option in a heartbeat.” He rubbed his eyes, then slapped his thighs. “Thank God I took so long defrosting the pipes, or this could’ve been a whole lot more awkward.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but walked into Sam’s line of sight to show he was dressed now. He was wearing Dean’s Survivor t-shirt with the tiger on it, paired with the jeans Dean had been wearing earlier today. He still looked ruffled, and his hair was tousled in such a specific way that Sam couldn’t force away the replayed memory of walking in on him and Dean taking a post-coital nap.

Castiel seemed to sense Sam’s discomfort, and his blue eyes held Sam’s gaze. “I’m sorry you had to witness our intimacy,” he said. “Next time we’ll lock the door.”

Sam grinned, lowering his eyes. “That... Yeah, okay. Good solution. Maybe put a sock on the door too.”

“Why?”

Sam was about to explain, but then the bathroom door opened again and Dean stepped out in a towel. He clutched the towel to his chest, leaving it dangling to mid-thigh, covering the important bits but leaving his dumpy hipbones exposed. He was pink-cheeked and shiny-eyed, but he seemed determined.

“Look,” he said with decisive force, “these walls are fairly thick, yet I can’t help overhearing you two talking. I’d really appreciate you not discussing this crap while I’m trying to clear my head.” His eyes skipped to Sam and stayed there. “You. Are you seriously that mentally scarred by this?” He gestured to Castiel, “We’re just dudes, we boinked a little bit. You’re never this pissy when you walk in on me with a girl, and frankly I’m kind of insulted by that. It’s Cas. Get the hell over it.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You came to terms with it pretty quickly.”

Dean huffed. “Let’s say I had an epiphany while sucking Cas’—” He ended his sentence abruptly. “Listen, Sam— I like dudes. Have done for years.” He gulped. “Don’t look so surprised, okay, I know you figured it out before I did. You were all conspiring against me.” He looked shy now, shoulders hunched and his eyes cast down.

“‘Conspiring’ is a strong word,” Sam said, smiling carelessly, trying to think about anything but Dean with his mouth full.

“We discussed tactics,” Castiel said. “And none of it was meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah... Yeah, I know,” Dean said, shrugging a shoulder. His eyes shot back to Sam, trying to smile but looking uncomfortable instead. “Just... don’t tease me about the frills. Ever. Please.”

Dean had never asked Sam to do that. There had been things in the past they’d agreed to never mention again, and there were mistakes and embarrassing events that made them both uncomfortable which they owned, regardless of their shame, but there wasn’t anything between them that they begged the other to accept without judgement. Sam and Dean, they didn’t do that. They teased each other, that was how they accepted things. Dean didn’t want that this time.

Sam swallowed, head bowed as he nodded. “Yeah. I can do that. No... teasing.”

“Thank you,” Dean breathed. When Sam looked up, Dean’s eyes were closed in relief. He looked so unsettled that Sam actually felt bad for him.

“I’d hug you right now,” Sam smiled, “except you’re naked and probably not very clean.”

Dean bit his lip, huffing out a laugh. Sam felt better, seeing him smile.

“I’m gonna—” Dean pointed towards the bathroom.

“The water should be warmer now,” Sam said. “If it’s not then I still have work to do.”

“Thanks... I guess? Oh—” Dean caught Sam’s attention with a wave, “Go ahead and open your present, the one from me.”

“Don’t you want to be here when I open it?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t need you getting all emotional on me, bro.”

Sam laughed, and Dean grinned, then slunk away and locked the bathroom door.

Sam sighed.

“Could’ve gone worse,” Castiel said in a jokey tone. He sat beside Sam, bare feet stretched out on the carpet in front of him.

“Could’ve,” Sam agreed. “He might’ve still been wearing that scrap of fabric.”

Castiel’s eyes crinkled in the corners, and he bent his head. Sam huffed, kind of enjoying how pleased Castiel looked now. There was something about him that radiated satisfaction, like an itch that had been bugging him for half a decade had been scratched at last. His shoulders rode a little lower than before, his smile coming easier. Sam could only conclude that resolving the romantic and sexual tension with Dean had loosened him up from the heart outwards.

“Wanna help me unwrap this present?” Sam asked, tapping Castiel’s thigh with the back of his hand. “Come on.”

They sat on the floor, cross-legged with their knees inches apart. Sam set the bulky newspaper-wrapped rectangle in his lap, smoothing his hands across its top.

“A book, I’m guessing,” Sam said, feeling the ridges of unevenly-cut pages down one side, and the lip of a hardcover overhanging every edge but the spine. “Something antique?”

Sam took a breath and began to rip the newspaper, not as careful as Castiel but not as rough as Dean. From behind the paper, he revealed a leather hardcover, new rather than antique, embellished with rhinestones.

“Uh...” Sam said, brushing off the rest of the newspaper. “What?”

“It says ‘Winchester’,” Castiel said, pointing at the rhinestones. “You’re holding it upside down.”

Sam laughed, turning it around. “So it does, look at that. Wait, did Dean make this?!”

He opened the front cover and coughed in surprise. “He made a photo album.” He sat and stared, soaking up the first picture. “He made me a freaking photo album.”

“It’s incredible craftsmanship,” Castiel said, running fingertips along the shaggy edges of the manila cardstock. “I didn’t know Dean could make books.”

“I didn’t either,” Sam whispered, still caught up with the first photo. He blinked away his tears, then gulped. “Cas, look, that’s our mom.” He turned the book to show Castiel, grinning widely as he saw Castiel smile. “I didn’t even know Dean had a picture of her like that. Holding us in her arms. Dean looks like me a bit.”

“It’s the hair,” Castiel smiled. “You never had freckles like him.”

“Mom looks so young,” Sam said, still in awe. “Dad must’ve taken this photo, I can’t be more than a newborn there. Look, I’m like a little wrinkly bean.”

Castiel laughed, rocking forwards. Sam chuckled too, then turned the page.

“Bobby,” Sam said. His smile became sad, but he shuffled around and sat closer to Castiel, their sides pressed together. “I miss him.”

“I miss him too,” Castiel said. “After Dean and you, Bobby taught me the most about being human. Most of it was more consistent than either of you two, which I’ll always appreciate.”

Sam’s hand stroked the glossy photo. It was faded with age; Dean must’ve scrounged up every photo he ever laid his hands on, and done his best to preserve them.

On the third page was a photo of Dean and Sam together, sitting and laughing at Bobby’s kitchen table. “I don’t remember Bobby taking that,” Sam smiled. “I’m glad he did. You know, I think I remember that day! I can’t remember what happened, but I recall something good about it.” He squinted, but he couldn’t remember. Someday it would come to him.

On the fourth page, a fifteen-year-old Dean stood with his back to the camera, face half-turned as an eleven-year-old Sam tried to point out the camera to him. “Amusement park,” Sam explained to Castiel. “I don’t even remember what ride that was, but that was absolutely the greatest birthday I ever had. Dean stole a car and drove me up there. I don’t think Dad ever found out – we went and came back before he even called. We got ice cream. I had like... a strawberry-cola combo. It was kinda gross, I think Dean finished it off for me. He loved it, obviously.”

Castiel rested a hand on Sam’s knee, squeezing. “Dean is a wonderful brother.”

“He really is,” Sam nodded, turning the page to reveal a photo of himself and Castiel bracketing Dean, both their arms thrown around his shoulders, standing amidst hundreds of people on a pier. Castiel looked confused and awkward in the photo – he hadn’t understood why he needed to hug Dean. Sam recognised the look on his own face: he was halfway through rolling his eyes at Dean and Castiel. Them and their sexual tension, the Sam in the photo was thinking.

“That was for a case,” Castiel recalled, touching the photo. “The case had something to do with... with shapeshifters! Showing up in photographs. Mostly all I remember was that Dean kept asking for another photo because we hadn’t seen a shifter in the crowd yet, or his hair was wrong, or your eyes were closed, or—”

“Or he wanted an excuse to hug you again,” Sam interrupted. He looked up at Castiel, observing a flustered smile. “He would’ve put his arm around you for a hundred different photos if I hadn’t told him we were never going to find the shifter taking one photo a minute.”

Castiel smiled to himself, his eyes gleaming. He looked back at the photo album, and began to turn the page again.

“You know what I like about this book?” Sam said, thumbing a candid photo of Dean, John and himself standing together between the bumpers of the Impala and John’s truck. “I like that Dean knew a photo album was something I could appreciate for years to come. Something I didn’t ask for, but wanted anyway.”

“Are you gloating because I thought lingerie would be an appropriate gift for Dean?” Castiel asked, deadpan.

“No,” Sam chuckled. “Well, okay. Maybe a bit. Seems like you weren’t wrong, though. He liked it, didn’t he?”

“Hm.” Castiel raised an eyebrow, eyes on Sam until he reached down and skipped past a bunch of photos to reach the end of the book.

Towards the end of the album, they discovered there were empty slots for new photos. “It’s perfect,” Sam said. “Plenty of room for our new family members. I can get that screencap of our Skype conversation printed, and add that in.” Sam let the cover close on his fingers, then he slid his hand out to stroke the front cover. “This was a really neat gift.”

“I think...” Castiel started. When Sam looked at him, Castiel grew bolder and continued, “For me, the real gift is having the two people I care most about with me,” Castiel said, putting a friendly pressure against Sam’s side. “The material things we shared were perfect, and somehow we can bring each other to tears that way... but there’s still nothing more rewarding than the time the three of us spent together. This really was the best Christmas ever.”

Sam nudged Castiel back, smiling at him. “So long as we make it to next year, that one will be even better.”

When Dean came out of the shower, he put on some clean clothes, and Castiel went in the shower after him. Dean and Sam sat together in the room, not a word spoken aloud for nearly ten minutes. From silence, a conversation sparked, though it was short.

“Why a photo album?” Sam asked, busy clearing away scraps of newspaper wrapping.

Dean was quiet for a while, pretending to be preoccupied with making his fingernails look nice. He shrugged. But, after a lengthy silence, he said, “Harry Potter.”

Sam looked up. “What?”

“My inspiration was Harry Potter. You know, in the first movie, Hagrid gives Harry the photo album, everyone’s heart is warmed to the core, then they get on the train, the end. That was my inspiration.”

“I didn’t know you—”

“I did. I do. I re-read the whole series every couple years.”

“The movies—”

“Not as good as the books. But they’re still good.”

Sam sat in a dumbfounded silence, and Dean went back to trimming his cuticles. He smiled subtly enough that Sam never saw.

The three of them spent their evening relaxing. Castiel got the impression it would be the last time they stayed in one place for quite some time. Dean was already looking for a new case, beginning by scouring the newspaper giftwrap, armed with a red marker pen and the muttered opinion that he “should’ve read it before using it as wrapping paper”. Sam currently had the laptop, but he was browsing the internet in a restrained, temporary kind of way, expecting Dean to commandeer the keyboard at any minute.

Castiel, meanwhile, lounged on the bed and watched TV, absorbing fifteen minutes each of six different movies, feeling too sleepy and content to do much more than track the pretty colours as they moved around the screen. Making love to Dean had made him feel good, and even after two hours had passed, he was still feeling buoyant, like there were rainbows in his belly.

“Got something,” Dean said, waking Castiel from a doze. “Weird animal migrations in New York. How about it, Sammy, you feel like spending a week in the Big Apple?”

“Depends. Are you going to want to try on a New York Rockettes uniform?”

“Sam,” Dean complained, immediately crestfallen.

“Sorry, sorry, I said I wouldn’t tease, I know,” Sam said, waving a hand. “It just slipped out. It’s out of my system now. I won’t do it again, promise.”

Dean went quiet and sulky for another half-hour, and Castiel supposed Sam learned his lesson.

Eventually Dean started yawning, and Castiel was the first to notice. He turned off the TV and put away the remote, then sat in the middle of the bed.

“You waitin’ for something, Cas?” Dean drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting for you to join me,” Castiel said simply.

Dean stared for a moment, then slowly began to close the laptop lid. “‘Night, Sam,” he said, getting up and sliding past.

“Just like that?” Sam chuckled. “You’re gonna hate me for saying it, but you are totally whipped.”

“No, I wouldn’t whip him,” Castiel argued, watching Dean get his toothbrush out of his leather pouch. “Not unless he wanted me to, that is.”

Sam snorted, then slapped a hand over his mouth and nose before any other noises could escape. His eyes were alive with amusement, while Dean looked subdued, slinking away into the bathroom like he intended to hide there.

When Dean had brushed his teeth, he turned the room’s main light off and came back to put away his toothbrush. Castiel lay back and wriggled out of his jeans, then lay down, holding out a hand to Dean. Oh, Castiel loved him so much, it was hard not to feel a warmth filling his body as Dean undressed to his boxers and t-shirt and came closer. Their bodies slung together, each of them letting out soft sighs as they shifted their weight. They buried themselves under the blanket, and Castiel caressed Dean in the dark, pulling him close and holding him.

“You guys... you’re not gonna do something nasty while I’m here, are you?”

Dean barked out a laugh into Castiel’s face, then popped out of the blanket to glare at Sam. “We’re going to sleep.”

“Okay. Good. So long as that’s all.”

Dean sneered, then snuggled down beside Castiel again, trying to hide his blush. He acted like doing this around Sam wasn’t a bother, like it wasn’t something that made him anxious and self-conscious, but Castiel could feel the heat in Dean’s face and the way he clung to Castiel’s hip for reassurance, and Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t comfortable showing Sam any of this. But he did so anyway, because he was brave, and he valued his love for Castiel over decades of shame. That was how Castiel interpreted it, anyhow.

“Goodnight, my love,” Castiel whispered, kissing Dean’s cheek.

Dean purred, pushing closer and kissing Castiel’s neck. “‘Night, angel.”

Castiel smiled, closing his eyes with his cheek against Dean’s forehead.

Castiel blinked his eyes open again for a moment, peering across the room. Sam’s face was lit by his laptop, a blue hue illuminating his astonished expression. Castiel mouthed “Goodnight” to Sam, then shut his eyes again.

Dean moved his hand to hold Castiel’s.

They fell asleep like that, with Castiel’s arms protecting Dean, and their hands entwined.

Castiel awoke to a kiss. Ten kisses, to be exact. Then fifteen.

Dean was very affectionate.

They rolled over together so Dean was underneath, and Castiel smiled into another smooch, pleased when Dean let out a slow, satiated hum.

When they pulled back to breathe, Dean looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Castiel caressed his face with both hands, thumbs skimming his freckled cheeks. “Good morning,” Castiel murmured, his voice aching in his throat. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean nodded, eyes half-closed. “I love you.”

Castiel blinked in surprise. “I love you too, Dean. More than anything.”

Dean grinned shyly, burying his head against Castiel’s neck. Dean breathed in slowly, deeply... then sighed, hands finding Castiel’s waist, rucking up his t-shirt to palm his skin. “Sam went to get breakfast,” Dean said, kissing Castiel’s neck. “We have a few minutes alone.”

“Good,” Castiel said, kissing Dean’s forehead, “because I need more sleep.”

“Oh, you—!” Dean batted Castiel around the ear as he flopped face-first into the pillow, arms gripping it from below. “You can’t just hit a snooze button on alone time, Cas!”

“Yes I can,” Castiel groaned into the pillow. He grunted in relief as his stiff muscles stretched out, and when he relaxed, he felt fatigue overwhelming him again.

Dean growled in irritation, but Castiel just smirked, some part of him taking pleasure in all the ways he could make Dean frustrated. If he denied him what he wanted now, he’d be more desperate for it later, and that suited Castiel perfectly.

Dean wasn’t that annoyed, as it turned out. He kissed Castiel’s neck some more, then laughed happily and snuggled up next to him, arms around him. “Cuddling you makes me so fucking happy,” he muttered, relaxing completely. Castiel turned his head and smiled, seeing Dean with his eyes closed.

“Is there anything else you’d like to share with me while Sam isn’t here?” Castiel asked, dragging an elbow back to his waist, so he could hover his hand over Dean’s face and finger his hairline, combing bed-mussed strands off his forehead.

Dean looked at him sleepily, a tenderness in his smile that made him look radiant. He shook his head. “Said everything I wanted to say. For now.”

Castiel blinked acceptingly, then let his eyes slide closed. His hand found a resting place on Dean’s heart.

They stayed like that for another fifteen minutes, woken only when Sam knocked on the door. Sam knocked three times, very loudly, at which point Castiel dragged himself out of bed to let him in. He squinted angrily at Sam, then shuffled out of the way as the younger Winchester galumphed past, carrying a silver platter and three plates. Castiel slammed the door.

“You’re not going to be a morning person, are you?” Sam observed, to which Castiel responded by folding his arms and glaring. Sam grinned, setting the table. “Sorry, man. Couldn’t risk walking in on another, uh... love scene.” He cleared his throat.

While Dean sat in silence at the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of jeans, Castiel turned away and headed into the bathroom – because, like humans, he now needed to pee before doing anything else. Falling was such a hassle.

Over breakfast, Sam casually mentioned that the road in the valley would be clear by now.

“Since when!?” Dean coughed, chewing half a pancake with his plate under his chin, catching maple syrup drips.

“Since now. Janine said the workers have been digging since dawn, when the snow stopped. If we’re not staying here another day, we need to vacate the room by eleven.” He checked his watch. “It’s ten-thirty now.”

Castiel felt a sinking feeling. He didn’t want to go. “We could stay another day,” he said, hearing the hopefulness in his words.

Dean shook his head, swiping a napkin across his mouth. “We’ll run out of cash. And there’s no bars open until tomorrow. As much as I’d like to, I can’t just whip my pool cue out and hustle a few games.”

Castiel sipped at a glass of water thoughtfully, looking out of the window at the snow-capped roofs of the tiny village. “I wish we could live here.”

Dean’s chewing slowed, and soon he set his fork down on his plate, pushing the plate aside. When Castiel looked towards him, Dean gazed back, understanding in his eyes. Dean didn’t want to go either.

“It was nice while it lasted,” Sam said. He looked between Dean and Castiel, then shrugged and looked back to his plate. “Sometimes it’s better to move on. If we stayed here we’d bring the trouble with us, you both know that.”

Dean and Castiel gave twin sighs of agreement. It was settled then: they’d have to pack up and leave.

Leaving wasn’t something Castiel ever liked. At least he was leaving with Dean and Sam, rather than leaving them behind. It wasn’t a goodbye.

Sam packed up the food and the B&B’s on-loan Christmas decorations, tidying it all up for the maid. Dean packed their clothes (Castiel noticed he jumped at the chance to do so, most likely so Sam never had to handle his soiled lingerie), and Castiel packed the toiletries and other personal effects that had somehow spread out across the whole room.

Within ten minutes they had the room as blank and faceless as it had been when they first entered. What a difference a little mess made, Castiel thought. Now the blankets were neatened, the pillows were back on the bed, and the wardrobe was empty. It looked luxurious, but it no longer looked like home. It was someone else’s luxury, now.

“Mustn’t forget the tree,” Castiel said, sitting on the couch. “Do we have a box to put it in?”

“Came without a box,” Dean said, providing a bag. “Gotta take those paper chains off or they’ll rip.” He knelt by the tree to pick the colourful decorations out from between its plastic branches.

He paused before he took off the last one. It was the plaid link, tied to the yellow link, tied to the green link with the colourless heart.

Castiel slid off the couch to kneel beside him. “I never meant to imply your heart was empty.”

“That wasn’t what upset me,” Dean said, frowning. “Well, it was, at first. But then you explained, and I...” He licked his lips, then smiled. “Pass me those marker pens?”

“These ones?” Castiel offered him the bag of random things he’d collected from the room.

Dean dug into the bag and rummaged around until he found the pens, all tied together with an elastic band. He pulled the green one free, then uncapped its lid.

“This is what pissed me off,” Dean said, taking the yellow link, holding it carefully as he set the pen against it. “I like that you went back and joined up your link and Sam’s lumberjack link. That’s awesome. But Sam’s plaid gets some green. And your yellow...” Dean put the lid back on the pen, then showed Castiel what he’d added to the yellow link. “The yellow deserves to show off some of my green too.”

Castiel started to smile. Dean had drawn a wonky heart on the yellow link, colourblocked in green.

Castiel looked back at Dean, speechless.

Dean simply grinned and leaned closer, putting a kiss on Castiel’s cheek. “It’s like I said last night.” He didn’t reiterate his words aloud now, since Sam was listening in, but Castiel could see it in his eyes: My heart’s all yours.

Castiel reached to hold Dean’s hand, and they went on smiling at each other. Castiel felt he was drowning in love.

“For the record,” Sam said, startling Dean into letting go of Castiel’s hand, “you have my full permission to call your firstborn Sammy. Sounds unisex enough, right?”

Dean’s eyes skittered about, mouth opening, and Castiel turned to Sam with a pleased smile. “We appreciate that a great deal, Sam. I do think it’s a little early to be having children, though.” Sam laughed.

Sam’s quip was intended to tease Dean, Castiel knew that – but now Dean was positively aflame with mixed emotions. He didn’t really change colour when he blushed; Castiel thought his flustered expressions looked rather fetching. Trying to console him, Castiel reached closer and touched Dean’s burning cheek. Dean looked at him with shiny eyes, needy and apologetic and hopeful.

Castiel gave him a smile. “We can have babies one day,” he nodded. “You think you won’t make a good father, but you will.” When Dean shut his eyes, Castiel leaned closer and kissed him, then whispered against his shoulder so Sam couldn’t hear, “You would make an excellent mother, too.”

Dean reached out and hugged Castiel, and Castiel hugged back, smiling into the collar of Dean’s plaid shirt. Castiel look up and caught Sam staring – and they both grinned.

In the minutes that followed, they took turns using the bathroom one last time (long journey ahead!), then they grabbed all their bags, making sure they had everything. Dean checked under the bed to make doubly sure nothing would get left behind.

They lingered before closing the door. This place had made a good home for a while. Only now they were leaving it behind did Castiel realise: their space in the attic room of the B&B had never felt transient like motel rooms did. Everything was always transient in their lives... and so was this, in the end.

Dean and Castiel held hands as they went down the stairs. Castiel watched Dean, felt his heartbeat through his wrist. Their love wasn’t transient like their homes had been, Castiel thought. Like a home, their partnership had been predestined, craved, worked for – but the difference was, their love would prevail beyond life itself.

It didn’t matter where they went, how far they travelled, or how many beds they slept in: Castiel’s home was right here, with Dean and Sam.

They made it to the foyer with their bags weighing them down. They made a beeline for the front door, but Janine stopped them, appearing at the doorway to the ballroom on their left.

“You little buggers,” she said. “Taking off without saying goodbye?”

“We have a long drive,” Dean said.

“No excuse,” Janine said crossly, heading for the front desk and swiping up a plate of fruit mince pies. She offered the plate to Dean, Sam and Castiel, and they put their bags down to take one each. Castiel had never eaten such sugary fruit, and it overwhelmed his taste buds, making them feel like they were being tickled. He loved the sensation, and he smiled while chewing.

Janine started to talk, but then another guest entered through the front door, and since the foyer was only small, Janine herded Dean, Sam and Castiel into the ballroom so the guest could get to the stairs.

Castiel zoned out the conversation for a minute, instead taking a proper look around the ballroom. He hadn’t seen it in daylight; it was even more spectacular now than it had been the other night. He looked ahead, then to the left, spying lightly falling snow through the ceiling-height glass windows. A few people sat at the tables here and there, drinking steaming-hot drinks and chatting in an amicable way. They seemed like strangers making friends. The room was big and not very warm, but there was a homely ambience in the hall.

Castiel paid attention to the others again when he heard Janine ask, “So where are you headed?”

“Kansas,” Sam said. “We have family there.”

“Oh, okay! Well, you tell them happy holidays from me, and I hope you get there safe.”

“Thank you,” Sam and Castiel said at once.

Dean mumbled something similar, his mouth full of at least two extra pies. When Janine looked at him discerningly, Dean shrugged. “They’re fruck’n bitesize pies. Need a’ leash’t three for it to count.”

Janine smiled forgivingly, setting the empty pie plate down on the buffet table. “I should let you go, or the snow will cut you off again. I really loved having you three here. I’ll give you our card—” She reached into her cardigan and pulled out a business card, handing it to Sam. Her wrinkled brown hand touched Sam’s as he took it, and she patted him before moving away. “Come back someday,” she said. “In summer this place is absolutely flourishing. Bright green trees, sun on the garden swing. Roses, too. Great place for a wedding,” she added, with a wink in Castiel’s direction.

Castiel was surprised at the last part. She couldn’t possibly know – could she...?

Janine turned away, giving a last wave. “See you around.”

“See you,” Sam called. He was the only one not wondering why Janine mentioned weddings. “All right,” he said, turning to Dean and Castiel. “Let’s get our bags and go before we get hit by a freak snowstorm.” He led the way back to the foyer, and they collected their things.

Castiel’s mind was still occupied by the thought of a wedding. He stood in the doorway again, out of the way of the brothers as they fought over a bag. Castiel stared back at the ballroom and he thought about how nice it would be to stand beside those great windows, lit by the summer sun, the grey sheen of a perfect winter, the fresh light of spring, or perhaps the golden tint of autumn shimmers, broken only by falling leaves, saying a vow with his hand in Dean’s.

Before he knew it, Dean was beside him, looking back at the ballroom too.

They caught each other’s eye, sharing a smile. They were thinking the same thing.

“Someday,” Dean said quietly.

“Ha!” Sam said, making a sudden movement above Dean and Castiel’s heads. They both turned to look at Sam, startled, and saw he was wearing a massive grin. He pointed upwards. “Mistletoe.”

Dean looked up, then Castiel, and they saw the plastic mistletoe from the box of decorations. Sam must have snuck it downstairs without them seeing, then Blu-tacked it to the door frame just now.

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other, then levelled their chins and stared. Dean’s lips were parted, and his eyes skipped between Castiel’s, unable to focus for more than a second.

Castiel inched his chin forward, testing – Dean noticed, and responded by crashing into Castiel, sealing their mouths together in a single press, no works of the jaw or laps of the tongue, just a simple kiss. Dean breathed in, both hands gripping the nape of Castiel’s neck. Castiel turned their heads, relaxing his mouth so Dean would too. They mouthed and nibbled a little, coaxing up a shared smile. Then Dean exhaled, and they broke the kiss.

They stared at each other, then broke eye contact and laughed, hands sliding together automatically.

“You two are gonna make me sick one day,” Sam muttered, grinning. “Come on. We’ve got a twelve-hour journey ahead of us.”

They left the mistletoe dangling where it was, and they picked up their bags again.

They exited the B&B and walked down the frosted path with smiles on their faces. When they got to the car, they looked back one last time to see late morning sunlight cutting across the building’s front, decorating it with a gold-and-silver sheen.

It was a beautiful place. Castiel had learned its past in a dream while he’d slept, and its history was filled with nothing but love. He had every reason to believe its future would be nothing but love, too.

Dean was used to driving all day without stopping. He and Sam could eat in the morning, maybe slow down once for a drive-through, once for a fresh tank of gas, a snack, and a toilet break, so getting between the hilly bit of Minnesota and the bunker in Kansas wouldn’t usually take more than eleven hours.

But Cas... He was new to being human. He wasn’t all the way human, but nowadays he suffered from the most awkward of human complaints. He would need to pee half an hour after he already went, then he would be thirsty again, but he wouldn’t be hungry – so they stopped at a gas station, got him the key to the staff bathroom, and a drink for later, and a snack for an hour after that (Dean had Castiel’s digestive system figured out already) and then they were on their way.

They stopped and started roughly once every two hours until the sun went down. Cas took a nap around five p.m., so he missed when they pulled in at the drive-through. Dean considered waking him up, because Cas loved the efficiency of drive-through diners (apparently they made him happy, like vending machines), but Dean got as far as looking over his shoulder and he couldn’t bear to wake him. Castiel looked so helpless and exhausted, conked out with his head on the backrest, his mouth hanging open as he slept.

Sam caught Dean staring, as he often did. Dean acted nonchalant and ordered their food, making sure to get something sweet for Cas to placate him when he woke up cranky.

They drove another three hours, four hours, five hours – Dean actually thought they’d make it to the bunker before Castiel woke up – but then came the inevitable: Castiel stirred, complaining that he was hungry, but he refused to eat until he’d used the bathroom.

“God,” Dean muttered. “Having a toddler would probably be simpler.”

So they stopped again at a roadside diner, and Dean had to buy a hotdog before the servers would let Castiel use the restroom. Castiel came back out looking as grumpy as when he went in, but he snatched the half-eaten hotdog off Dean and finished it off without hesitation. Dean rolled his eyes and went to use the restroom too, since he might as well.

When they passed a road sign that informed Dean they were an hour away from the bunker, Dean checked the rear-view mirror to see if Cas was awake and wanted to know they were close. But Castiel was asleep again, covered up by his trenchcoat, using his colourful scarf as a pillow. Dean smiled.

“I’m hungry,” said Sam.

Dean’s head turned towards him. “You’re kidding me.”

“No?” Sam said. “I want, like, one of those chewy fruit bars. And coffee.”

Dean was going to complain, but then he blinked and his eyeballs burned. At this point he’d been driving for more hours than he could count. He pursed his lips, then sighed. “Fine. When I see somewhere, we’ll pull over and I’ll let you drive.”

“All right,” Sam said.

Dean knew this road, and knew when they were approaching the next gas station. He figured he ought to wake Castiel up for this one. “Yo, Cas,” he called. “Cas, buddy. Wakey-wakey.”

“Nnnh,” Castiel said, nuzzling his nose into his scarf. “Go away.”

“We’re coming up to the last stop we’ll have until we get home. You need the bathroom?”

“No,” Castiel said defiantly.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No.”

“A snack?”

“No.”

“A kiss?”

Castiel was about to say ‘no’, but then he laughed. Dean grinned, glad he could joke that monosyllabic exterior away like it was nothing. It was all for show, and Dean knew it. Cas was just trying to express his displeasure in the simplest way he knew how, which translated into grumpiness.

“How ‘bout I get you some decaf coffee, huh?” Dean offered, eyes flicking up to the rear-view mirror to check if Castiel was smiling. “And a kiss.”

“Hm,” Castiel said, which Dean took as a yes.

Dean noticed Sam was looking at him, but he didn’t look back in case he blushed. He liked being cutesy with Cas, and he didn’t want to meet Sam’s eye and tempt the always-there need to defend his less macho behaviour.

They pulled into the empty sheltered area of the gas station, and Dean squinted against the bright lights. There was something nice about driving from an unchanging dark road into a gas station, slowing to a stop, then putting the car in park with half the wheels set along a grass verge. It felt like they had gotten somewhere, but there was still some of the road left to enjoy. Dean couldn’t help it if he liked travelling.

“Midnight exactly,” Dean sighed, checking his watch. “All right, coffee for Sam, decaf for Cas, water for me. Anything else, Cas?”

“Chocolate,” Castiel mumbled.

“Sure you don’t wanna come in?”

“Just leave him, Dean,” Sam said with a frustrated smile, stepping out of the car. Dean hurried out too, closing the driver’s door.

“You’re coming?” Dean asked Sam.

“Need to stretch my legs,” Sam said, leading the way across the concrete. Dean scurried after him, thinking about which kind of chocolate Cas would want right now.

Inside, Sam picked up a shopping basket – and Dean let him, because he hated touching the germy basket handles. They browsed together, Dean picking out a selection of candy in case Castiel wanted to choose, Sam picking out some healthier snacks in case – God forbid – Castiel developed Dean’s eating habits.

Sam left Dean behind in the magazine aisle, presumably because he didn’t want to see him browsing porn. “Getting coffee,” Sam muttered, taking his leave.

Dean only stayed in the magazine aisle for long enough to pick up a National Geographic for Castiel, because excellent photos of interesting animals and fascinating world history fact sheets were his jam. Cas also liked crossword puzzles, but Dean didn’t get him any more, assuming there were still some blank ones in the book he already had.

Dean then turned down the next aisle, which was full of random tchotchkes – keyrings and stationery and kids’ toys. He was about to pick out a bottle of water from the fridge behind him, but something shiny caught his eye.

On a shelf at middling-height there was a cardboard tray of $2 rings. There were some delicate ones with silver bands and plastic gems, and some bigger ones with plain silver bands.

Dean stared a bit too long.

He got his water and went over to Sam, eyes down as he put the magazine and the water into the basket. “I gotta go make a call, you pay for this,” he said, waving Sam away when he tried to ask who he was going to call. “I might be a while, go sit in the car.”

Dean hastened to the glass door of the gas station, pushing it open and sitting straight down on the concrete step outside. It was bitterly cold, and he huffed out a cloud as he straightened his leg and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. Hunched over, he thumbed through his saved contacts. When he saw Charlie’s name, he dialled.

He sat with his eyes closed, listening to the phone ringing as the call connected. Then he opened his eyes and stared at his car, admiring how the gas station’s white lights touched the car’s glossy black sides with a shine. Dean thought about Cas, asleep inside the vehicle, waiting for him to get back with chocolate.

Charlie picked up her phone. “Dean?”

“Hey,” Dean said, alarmed when his voice came out as a quiet croak. He coughed, trying again. “Hey, it’s me.”

“You... sound distressed.”

“Not distressed, exactly,” Dean shrugged, “just in need of advice. Or something insightful. Having a tiny personal crisis here.”

“Everything okay?”

“...Yeah,” Dean said, nodding gently. He picked at his bootlaces, resting his chin down on his knee. “Something happened, last night. After Cas ended the Skype call.”

“Jody and me Skyped Sam back after that, but he wouldn’t say what happened,” Charlie said.

“Cas got me a present,” Dean said, smiling shyly, pressing his mouth and nose to his knee, breathing into the denim. He lifted his face again, licking his lips before adding, “He got me something I really liked, but something I didn’t want anyone else to see. Not a sex toy, before you ask. But it’s private.”

“O...kay?”

Dean licked his lips again, then sighed up into the air, watching his breath swirl around over his face. “Long story short... me and Cas... we got together.”

“Wh— Wait, you mean—?”

“In the gay way,” Dean said, then chuckled, face down with his hand over his eyes. “There was kissing, and... and touching, and – love confessions. You don’t need to know.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Dean!” Charlie complained. “You can’t tell me there was kissing and touching and love confessions without telling me exactly what the hell happened! Rude!”

“I’m not gonna give you details, are you crazy?!”

“It’s important! If I don’t know what happened how am I meant to know what the problem is?”

Dean nibbled his lower lip, trying to figure out what he could afford to tell her without emasculating or embarrassing himself so severely that she wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again. “Well... basically... Uh. We kind of had sex?”

“How do you ‘kind of’ have sex—? You used protection, right?”

“He didn’t— Um.” Dean rubbed his cheek. “He didn’t put his thing in me. Like... just fingers. And rubbing and stuff.”

Charlie was quiet for a bit, and Dean panicked. “Charlie? You still there? Was that too much?”

“I’m still here,” Charlie said. “Sorry. I was just dumbstruck by the thought of how many people’s headcanons just became canon.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, running fingers back through his hair. “Yeah. I’m— I’m like that.”

“Nice. All right, so what then?”

“He got me off like that, then we talked, and I told him – my heart belongs to him.” Dean smiled, feeling the recollection make his stomach tight and his heart fill with sparkles. Telling Charlie lifted the burden of a secret from his mind. She was a great listener – Dean figured since she was gay she might know a thing or two about what he was going through, and thank God, he was right. “Then... I sucked him off.”

“Wow. ...I mean, wow. I can’t even wrap my head around this. Yesterday you would’ve been freaked out by a photo of a naked man and today you’re talking about giving a guy a blowjob like it’s nothing.”

“Are you kidding me? It wasn’t nothing. I was kneeling on the bed, right, trying to get the whole thing in my mouth – but he’s fucking huge, okay. I mean, six inches looks fine when it’s right there, or when you practice with a sausage or your toothbrush or something, but when it’s rubbing in your face? Man. I swear, I was gonna spit up all over him, half the time I was praying I could just ignore the neck pain and get on with it.”

“Right now all I can think about is you trying to cram a toothbrush down your throat.”

“Shut up,” Dean laughed, covering his face with a hand. “Everyone wonders if they could manage a dick at some point, all right.”

“Not... everyone.”

Dean snorted. “You seriously never tried it?”

“An actual dick, or a toothbrush?”

Dean burst out laughing and cackled into his thighs, snorting and trying to push back tears. “Shuddup,” he rasped again, not pushing for Charlie’s answer. He panted until he caught his breath, waiting until Charlie had stopped giggling too before he took a breath to speak.

“Anyway,” he said, smirking down at the concrete with its numerous oil stains. “It hurt my neck so much I asked Cas to take over. And he... He’s really sweet, you know? He laid me down on my back, made sure I was comfortable. Then he kind of sat over my face and— Do you even want to know this?”

“I’m listening. It’s kind of hilarious, actually. I should make a bingo card of things you do in bed. Next time I see a Supernatural fanfic I’ll be like, wrong, wrong, wrong.”

Dean chuckled. “He, um... He sorta fucked my face from on top, and I just lay there with my mouth open.”

“Yeesh.”

“No, no, it was good,” Dean said. “I liked it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, drawing circles on his jeans with his fingertip. “He kept moaning and... saying my name.” The memory gave him the same shivers he’d felt the first time, and he palmed at his knee, trying to calm himself. “Th- Then he came in my mouth.”

“Did you swallow?”

Dean covered his eyes, sure he was bright pink. “Every fucking drop.”

“Bingo!” Charlie sang. “Next time, though, get him to wear a condom. Oral’s safer than buttsex, but if he’s out of magic powers then I wouldn’t get complacent.”

“I – I know,” Dean stammered. “It just sort of happened, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for taking the leap with him, I guess. But I’m not sure what the problem is?”

“It was after,” Dean said, gulping. “We lay down together – cuddling, I suppose you could call it that – and we were kissing, and Cas’ fingers were, like, running little patterns on my... my tummy. And I just...”

“What? ...You’ve gone quiet. Dean?”

“I...” Dean’s shoulders bowed forwards, trying to shelter himself from the cold, and the confession that was about to slip from his mouth. “I asked him to marry me.”

“Whaaat,” Charlie breathed, astounded. “How? What did you say? What did he say?!”

“That’s the thing,” Dean muttered, then went silent because Sam opened the gas station door behind him. Dean shuffled out of his way, catching his eye as he stepped past. Sam looked curious, but Dean made a ‘keep walking, bucko’ gesture and Sam flapped a hand dismissively, walking on towards the car with a carrier bag in hand.

“Sorry,” Dean said, watching Sam get into the car, “Um, where was I? —Oh. I actually just blurted it out. We were making out, and I felt really good. Like, totally blissed outta my mind. I can’t remember what was going through my head, but there was this big fuzzy feeling like, I wanna do this forever, I wanna lie with him and have him make out with me for the rest of my life. And I kind of muttered ‘marry me’ and that was it.”

“Did he laugh it off or something?”

“No,” Dean said, swallowing. “He, um. He stopped kissing me, and he looked... Charlie, he looked happy. Oh— Oh my God...” Dean bit his lip, breathing hard. “Oh, fuck, I’m getting teary-eyed, what the fuck... H-His eyes got so bright, Charlie, and he was smiling, and he took my face in his hands and he said yes. He fucking said yes.” Dean sobbed and laughed, catching a tear on his hand as he tried to wipe another away. “I think we’re engaged!”

“What do you mean, you think?! Holy fucking shitballs, Dean! Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” Dean cried, laughing into his hand as tears dripped down his sleeve. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do!”

“Um, how about marry him?!”

Dean sniffed, swiping his tears away with the heel of his hand, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna. I really want to. Like, really want to. I can’t even believe this is my life right now. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me. Good stuff doesn’t happen to us.”

“Sometimes we get lucky,” Charlie said cheerfully. “I’m so happy for you, Dean. I’m crying a little bit.”

Dean chuckled, sniffing away the rest of his outburst. “I just wanted to tell you,” he said, smiling. “I haven’t even told Sam yet. I don’t know how he’d take it.”

“He’ll be planning the bachelor party before you’re even done explaining,” Charlie assured him. “If you want to get gay-married to your guardian angel he’s not going to stand in your way.”

Dean beamed at the thought, swapping his phone to his other hand because the first one was numb with cold. He sighed, long and relieving. “Right now we’re stopped at a gas station, about an hour away from you. Sam ‘n Cas are waiting for me in the car.”

“Do you need to go join them?”

“In a minute,” Dean said. “I saw something in the shop I wanna buy first. Call it a proper Christmas present for Cas.” When Charlie just hummed acceptance rather than asking what he wanted to buy, Dean added, “It’s a ring.”

“Wait. You’re going to buy your engagement ring at a gas station?!”

“Duh. I’ll get him something silver when we get married for real. Until then a crappy plastic thing will do us just fine.”

“You’re tacky.”

“I’m also not rolling in money, so you can go suck ass.”

“Once I find myself a girlfriend, I might do that.”

Dean laughed, getting to his feet. “Good luck with finding a girlfriend, then.”

“Thanks. Are you going now? Drive safe, please.”

“Sam’s driving.”

“In that case, tell him to drive like a maniac and maybe he might drive half as badly as you.”

“I take offence to that.”

“Then you can suck ass.”

“You never know, I might get off on that,” Dean grinned.

“Bingo,” Charlie whispered.

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See ya, assbutt.” Charlie ended the call before Dean could pull a face at her choice of pet name. He stared at his bleeping phone, then smiled.

Then he went and picked out a goddamn plastic ring, because this really was his life, and when his life provided an occasional perk, it had the downside of being too expensive to do properly. One silver band shone on his finger as he tested the size. Once he was satisfied, he got two, then made his way to the checkout.

An exhausted man in a turban made absolutely no comment on Dean’s purchase, taking his cash and giving him exact change. Dean thanked him and took what he’d bought with shaking hands.

Change in his pocket and rings clasped in his hand, Dean crossed the floodlit concrete and headed for the car. He could see Sam’s eyes following him as he walked around the hood. Rather than going for the front passenger’s door, Dean went for Castiel’s door at the back. Castiel was snoozing, but he blinked his eyes open when Dean popped the door open and let the fumes of gasoline wash into the car.

“Cas,” Dean said, touching his fingers to Castiel’s bare arm.

Castiel sensed something important was about to happen, so he sat up, trenchcoat flopping into his lap, revealing the tiger on his t-shirt. Survivor, Dean thought. He and Castiel were both survivors, and they were both brave, fearsome creatures. They were going to survive a whole lot more together, and they were going to be in love while doing it.

“Dean, what is it?” Castiel asked, when Dean couldn’t find the words to speak.

Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him, watching.

Castiel held his gaze, calm and blue and soothing. He was patient.

Dean smiled shakily, then offered Castiel his fist, closed fingers facing upward. “Open it.”

Castiel hesitated, then reached to touch Dean’s hand. He stroked each of Dean’s fingers back, revealing the two silver-coloured rings.

“Oh,” Castiel whispered.

“Pick one,” Dean said. “It’s just plastic. It’s gonna fall apart in a week.”

“I’ll keep the pieces,” Castiel said, taking one of the identical rings, hastily trying it on all his fingers to find one it fit. Dean watched his face light up with joy as the ring slipped past the second knuckle of his right pinkie finger. The rings weren’t meant for grown men, but they would do.

With a blazing happiness, Dean offered the other ring to Castiel too. Love illuminated Castiel’s eyes, as if dawn light was shining in his face, radiating from his soul. Castiel took the second ring and slipped it onto Dean’s pinkie finger, mirroring his own.

They took each other’s hands, two and two, their eyes locked on each other, smiles fluttering as happiness twisted together with hope inside them.

Sam didn’t say anything. It was like he knew.

They held their positions for a little while, nobody moving, nobody speaking.

Dean felt incredible. Alas, he was all too aware that now the moment had played itself out, it was time to go.

Dean made Castiel scoot along a seat so he could fit beside him. He closed the car door, and he wrapped his arms around Castiel and hugged him – Castiel hugged back, and they shared a kiss. They lingered for a full ten seconds, indulging in the way it felt near-familiar, almost like they’d shared these kinds of kisses forever, but it was still new. Dean prayed their kisses would always be as treasured as this one. When they broke apart, Castiel snuggled against Dean to go back to sleep.

Sam started the car, adjusting the rear-view mirror for his height, checking Dean and Cas a few times while he was at it. “Ready?” he asked.

“Just drive, Sammy,” Dean said, enjoying the sight of a smile on Sam’s face. Dean sank his cheek against Castiel’s hair, shutting his eyes to savour his scent mingled with the smell of the coffee he’d drunk and the chocolate he’d eaten.

As they pulled into the road, Dean was soothed by the rumble of the grit below them, and the warmth of the man in his arms. They were safe together, the three of them. This car was their home, and they were on their way to another home, where the rest of their family would be waiting to welcome them.

It was funny, Dean thought. For so long he’d imagined himself as a kind of nomad, carrying everything that was his upon his back, or riding inside it with four wheels to the road. But now, with Cas nestled against his shoulder, Dean had another good reason to feel like he was in the right place, doing the right thing, heading in the right direction.

Yeah.

Dean felt like he was home.