Chapter Text
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Castiel lifted his head from his pillow and realised he was alone in Dean’s bed. He peered at the time. Just before midnight. Almost Christmas Day. He could hear the husky voice coming from the…was it downstairs? He clambered out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants to cover his nakedness and, on bare feet, he padded to the door.
His fingertips brushed the wall as he headed downstairs.
From now on our troubles will be out of sight
Castiel stepped into the hallway between the front and back rooms of the cafe. The singing was definitely coming from the kitchen.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
His mouth dropped open at the sight of Dean Winchester, singing as he stirred a bowl of gloppy mix. There was the smell of some kind of baked goods that wafted around the room, spiced and warm.
Dean was beautiful, soft grey lounge pants and a white sleep shirt hugged his body. His hair was a rare, rumpled mess.
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on our troubles will be miles away
Dean dropped spoonfuls of the mix he had made onto large cookie sheets. He licked his thumb, humming, and started singing again as he opened the oven door, sliding the sheet in. Castiel’s stomach swooped low as he watched Dean’s easy movements.
Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
A little soft shoe routine punctuated Dean’s words, and he picked up the bowl, did a turn, dipping and swaying as though he were dancing with an invisible partner. Castiel felt a curl of want warm his soul. Oh, how he wanted this man, with this breath, and the next one, and all the others to come.
Loving friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
Dean stilled as green eyes met blue. His voice trailed off and a flush coloured his cheek.
“Hey, Cas. Uhhh… I was just…” He gestured with a hand, before swiping down his flour dusted chest.
“You were singing. I didn’t know you could sing.” Castiel approached. “And you are baking.”
“Yeah. Christmas cookies.”
“I see. Why are Christmas cookies different to other cookies?”
Dean looked puzzled. “Well, I suppose because they are made at Christmas. They get decorated, and you eat them Christmas morning. Mom used to make them, before…well…just before. She would let me help decorate them Christmas eve.”
“That is a nice tradition. Is it your mother’s recipe?”
Dean nodded.
“Your voice is lovely, Dean.” Castiel watched him, almost unblinking. “That song you were singing made me feel sad though.”
Dean set the bowl he was carrying into the sink, and turned on the tap. His voice was a little rough as he spoke, staring down into the swirl of water. “Sometimes I feel sad singing it.”
“Why?” The pain radiating from Dean made his chest hurt. Castiel splayed his palms on Dean’s back, letting him know he was there.
Dean turned and folded Castiel into his arms. He rested his forehead on Castiel’s solid shoulder. His voice was a low rumble in his chest. “I guess I remember the people I won’t get to have Christmas with again. Mom. Dad.”
“I’m so sorry.” Castiel turned his head and kissed Dean gently, just below his ear. “I know it is not the same, but I’m here. And so is Sam.”
“It means a lot, Cas.” A bell dinged. “Want to help me decorate them?”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
Regretfully, Castiel stepped out of Dean’s embrace, letting Dean step to the oven.
“C’mon, I will show you.” Dean slid the tray of cookies from the oven, leaving the second tray to bake.
A few minutes later, Castiel was seated at the counter busily applying tiny silvery balls to a set of cookies he had iced green. Icing was smeared across his cheek. Dean withdrew the second sheet of cookies from the oven, and slid them onto the cooling racks. He looked at the intense concentration on his angel’s face and grinned.
Castiel studied his creations despondently. “These don’t look like yours, Dean. I don’t think I’m very good at this.”
Dean silently reached out, picked up one of the lumpily iced cookies, and the mysterious swirl of decorations that Castiel had applied in a haphazard manner. They looked terrible.
“It’s beautiful.” Dean cracked one of the cookies in half, he held it out to Cas.
Castiel reached out and took the cookie half. He popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed as he watched Dean devour the second half. His eyes met Dean’s again. Dean reached out and brushed his thumb over the icing smear on Castiel’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Castiel Novak.”
Castiel blinked at him with wide blue eyes, one of his rare, slow smiles curving his lips. “Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester.”
“I’m glad you are here.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“I love you, Cas.” Dean’s smile held all the warmth of the cookie he had just eaten, and when he cupped his hands around Castiel’s face and leaned down, their lips just brushing. Castiel’s breath sighed out with relief.
Dean’s tongue was rich with spices and fresh ginger. It was deliciously more-ish and Castiel wanted it. His hands were wrapped in Dean’s t shirt, pulling him close. He stopped kissing Dean long enough to murmur, “I’m in love with you too.”
When they broke apart, Dean’s voice was a rough whisper. “No regrets?”
“None.” Castiel quirked his lips in a faint smile. “And these…” He picked up another of the cookies. This one a jauntily purple attired Santa. “These are my favourite cookies.”
That night, the clever North wind spoke to Dean of towns still to be visited, of people who needed a little push here, a little nudge there. But he closed the windows against the call and slipped beneath the blankets, curving up against the naked warmth of his gently snoring boyfriend.
When summer came to Lawrence, there was a new breeze from the south, warm and welcoming, and with it came hope, as, two men exchanged vows, promising to love and respect each other before all their friends. Oddly, badly decorated Christmas cookies sat on the dessert table.