Title: The Dean and Castiel Christmas Spectacular!
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas, Dean/female OC(but not really) Dasher/Vixen, Crack, romance, slight angst.
Warnings: A lot of references to Christmas movies and I Love Lucy.
Word Count: 2847
Summary: Eleven weeks before Christmas, Dean starts to dream about Castiel, who has gone back with the angels. Miracles are known to happen around this time though, especially for those who deserve it. I used all three prompts. Dean and Castiel meet mall Mall Santa, Castiel shows Dean how the angels celebrate Christmas and Dean tries to make Christmas dinner.
AN #1: Huge thank you to bhsbaby who betaed this and told me that it did not suck.
AN #2: This was originally written for transientlight at deancas_xmas
AN #3: This version has been slightly edited. Upon re-reading to post this, I noticed a few mistakes that were left after the revision process, so I fixed them.
12 weeks before Christmas, after Lucifer falls to his knees in repentance only to be burned out of his vessel's body, Castiel kisses Dean. Dean's too shocked to kiss back, too tired, too worried about Sam to do anything but stand there. The angel smiles as he strokes Dean's cheek, clearing dirt to reveal the instinctual blush on his face. When the hunter opens his mouth to say, well he's not sure what he's going to say, but it doesn't matter as the angel tells him no. Dean can't read the other man's face, can't tell what he's thinking, but he can guess. This is the angel's way of saying goodbye to him.
Dean wants to tell him that it's unfair, but the angel's smiling and kissing Dean's hand.
"Thank you, Dean," He bows his head and steps away from the hunter whose hand stays in the air even seconds after Castiel's lips leave.
"Um, yeah," Dean's at a loss as to what to say.
"Sam is waiting for you," he gestures towards Sam whose watching both of them with a concerned frown. Slowly, Dean staggers towards the brother he hasn't seen in days, enveloping him in a hug. By the time he looks back, Castiel is gone.
Thirty minutes after Castiel leaves, Queen's We Are the Champions blasts through the Impala as Dean and Sam drive towards Bobby's house. Dean's bones ache, his fingers raw and bloodied. He can feel a bruise form under his eye. It's not the physical pain that bothers the hunter though, but the slowly sinking feeling of loss.
He's grateful that Sam hasn't said anything, because once they start talking about it, it'll be real. Castiel will have kissed him, only to leave with the other angels.
"Stupid son of a bitch," he speaks aloud without meaning to, earning a raised eyebrow from the other hunter.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
Dean shrugs, trying to play it off as though it's no big deal. "It's fine. He did what he had to do. Can't blame the guy."
"Right," Sam's voice is soft, understanding. "Well what do you say we stop at the next motel we see? I'm too tired to make it all the way to Bobby's," Dean's grateful for both the suggestion and the change of subject.
He lets Sam have the first shower.
When Dean finally gets his turn, the water's still blissfully hot as it taps against his bruised skin. He washes his skin raw with the wash cloth and cheap motel soap. Watches as dirt and blood circle down the drain. The man can still feel where Castiel touched his face, can still feel the electric shock from his lips as they pressed hard against Dean's. The look on the angel's face, full of undeserved reverence and love. Dean shakes with the thought of it.
Eleven weeks before Christmas Dean dreams about Castiel for the first time. Dean knows he's dreaming. It isn't that the dream is in black and white and he's wearing a dress and white frilly apron. It's not the huge turkey and countless side dishes on the table or the way Castiel looks remarkably like Ricky Ricardo, nor is it Sam and Bobby's strange resemblances to Ethel and Fred that give it away. It's not even that Castiel kisses his knuckles or says I love you in some ancient language that Dean shouldn't have been able to understand but does because it it's a dream.
No, it's the fact that Castiel's eating, tearing into the turkey like he's starving.
Dean doubts very much that the real Castiel would chew with his mouth open and that was if the angel ever ate at all, which he didn't. Hence, a dream. Dean wakes up, forgetting the dream as Sam moans about pancakes.
Ten weeks before Christmas, Dean finds himself on a date with a girl named Kara. She's nearly everything Dean likes in a woman, hot with chestnut hair and tawny eyes, confident, experienced, and yet as she brushes her foot against Dean's thigh underneath their secluded restaurant booth, he comes to three frightening realizations.
The first is he doesn't want to have sex with her.
The second is he wishes she were a black haired angel with bright blue eyes and a gravel laced voice.
The third is he is in love with Castiel.
There's a fourth epiphany, one that follows only seconds later, threatens to break him into tiny pieces.
It's too late.
"What's her name?"
He doesn't ask how she knows, doesn't deny it. "His name is Cas." He tells her everything, changing some of the details, such as the part where he was in hell and how Castiel was an angel, but otherwise it's the full truth. To his surprise, she doesn't make any reaction to Dean's confession. Instead she smiles. "You sound like my brother."
She laughs. "Yeah, he walked away from the love of his life. I could have killed him."
"Where is he now?"
"Kenosha, Wisconsin, moping."
Dean sighs, leans back against the leather seat. "I'm sorry for being a bad date,"
Kara waves her hand flippantly. "It's okay. I knew you were too hot to be straight anyway."
Dean doesn't know what to say to that. He decides not to be insulted. "I'm not sure what to do now."
"Have you tried calling him?"
"He's kind of off the grid," Dean answers as the waiter brings their food. "I know our food just came but you don't have to stay. I'd understand if you'd rather call it a night."
She shakes her head and places her napkin on her lap. "Don't be silly." She takes a bite of her Alfredo. "So wherever this guy is, he doesn't have a phone?"
Dean nods as he chews his burger. "His job requires a lot of travel."
The brunette nods knowingly. "I'm sorry."
"You and me both," he answers as he pops a perfectly crunchy French fry in his mouth. They talk through the meal. She tells him about how she works for the family business, of her brother's devotion to the man she calls "Mr. Hotness." They share a chocolate lava cake for dessert.
He walks her to her red Mercedes. She kisses him on the cheek and wishes him good luck before she drives away.
Sam's still awake when Dean walks into their hotel room. "You're early," eyebrow raised. Dean ignores him as he takes off his jacket and shoes. "Wanna talk about it?"
Dean glares and Sam raises his hands apologetically. "Bobby's got a job for us."
Nine weeks before Christmas Dean has his second dream about Castiel. They're standing in line at a mall. He imagines they look odd, two grown men waiting in line to meet Santa, but he doesn't care. Castiel's silent, content to look around at the decorations.
"Have you decided what you're going to ask Santa to bring you?" Dean asks cheekily, nudging Castiel on his arm.
"I am considering it," ever cryptic, his angel. He's about to press the issue, to ask exactly what it is the man wants so he can actually get it for him, but then they arrive at the North Pole.
The actual North Pole. The mall is gone, so are the other people in line. Instead they're both outside in a snow covered wonderland surrounded by the tallest pine trees Dean has ever seen, all lit up with twinkling lights. Something pokes his butt and when he turns around, he's face to face with an reindeer. It's wearing a collar and a glittering tag that says "Dasher"
"Cas, come look at this," Dean urges as he begins to pet the creature. Castiel comes over just as another reindeer wanders over. "Which one is that?" Dean asks.
"Vixen," Castiel rubs his hand against her neck. "This place is very sacred Dean, as are these creatures."
Dean nods, understanding. Footsteps come up behind them. "You're late!" the elf cries in a squeaky voice. He looks just like Dean imagined one of Santa's elves would, short with a pointed ears and nose, wearing a green hat and over-alls. "Santa has been expecting you, come on, come on," he grabs both Dean's and Castiel's arm.
The next thing Dean knows, he's standing in a large room decorated with ten foot candy cane arches and everything smells like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. There's a long red carpet leading up to a marble platform. Sitting on the throne is Santa himself. One of the elves grabs Castiel's hand, leading the angel to the fat man in red. To Dean's surprise, and from the looks of it, Castiel's, Santa pats his lap.
"And what do you want for Christmas, young man?" Santa's voice is deep and cheerful as the trench coat wearing angel sits apprehensively on his lap. Castiel blushes and looks down at his feet.
"I want something," he face matches Santa's suit. "But it's impossible."
Santa's belly really does shake like a bowl full of jelly when he chuckles. "Nothing's impossible, son!"
"Just tell him what you want," Dean urges.
Blue eyes latch onto green as Castiel answers Santa's question. "I want to fall."
Santa nods, but before Dean can say anything, Cas is being pushed down a long slide by two of Santa's elves. Santa shakes his head. "Kid's gonna poke his eye out," He wakes up in an ordinary hotel room in an ordinary (okay maybe not ordinary) town, on an ordinary hunt. Again, maybe not ordinary, considering the whole town has been cursed to sing Christmas music.
If someone tells him it's Jingle Bell time one more time, he's going to ask the angels to send him back in time, just so he can side with Lucifer.
He imagines Castiel would solemnly tell him that Lucifer is why Christmas music exists in the first place. Then the Castiel in his mind breaks out with the second verse of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," and Dean knows he is really and truly fucked.
Three weeks before Christmas Dean dreams about Castiel again. He's sitting in a cathedral, the kind that makes you feel two hundred times smaller than you really are. He's completely alone, staring up at the gold Jesus on a cross when Castiel sits beside him, completely naked except for the sword strapped to his back and the knee high leather boots.
"Uh, nice shoes," I miss you
"So uh, is there a reason why you're naked in a church?" Not that Dean minds, it's just they're in a church and he's pretty sure there are rules against that thing.
"This is how angels celebrate the birth of Christ, Dean," Castiel tilts his head to look at the Jesus. "That statue is not anatomically correct."
The hunter decides to ignore the latter statement on account that there are certain things he does not need to know, Jesus being packed is not one of them. "You celebrate Jesus's birthday by..." he trails off as Cas's fingers touch his lips.
"We commune," the angel's voice is thick and husky and Dean doesn't care if this isn't real (in fact, that's probably a good thing, considering) he wants.
"Take," Castiel orders.
So Dean does.
"You look terrible," Sam points out as they drive to their next hunt the next day. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything,"
"So don't," Dean snaps.
Sam doesn't let up though, "It's okay to miss him. I miss him too." Dean's blood boils at Sam's confession. He wants to say No, you can't miss him, not like I do. You don't understand. You're not in love with him.
One week before Christmas,Dean dreams about Castiel for the tenth time.
He's following the black haired angel through a supermarket. The hunter leans against the cart, content to watch Castiel as he gathers various fruits and vegetables, most Dean's pretty sure he's never actually going to eat, such as the Jicama.
"Crimini or Shiitake?"
Dean has no idea what the other man is talking about. He might as well be speaking Klingon.
The angel holds up two mushrooms. "Crimini or Shiitake?"
Knowing that they will never get out of the store until he decides, Dean chooses the Crimini, on account that they look more like actual mushrooms and less like some weird fungus that could give them bad hallucinations.
The last thing he needs is to see Castiel with Reindeer antlers.
Castiel nods and while he puts some into a clear plastic bag, Dean's eyes wander around the store. When they came in, the place had been packed, and yet now it was practically empty. Yawning, he checks his watch.
"Oh crap, Cas it's nearly ten. We've been here for four hours." The hunter's pretty sure at least two of those hours were spent with Castiel smelling every type of cheese in the store's selection.
Dean reminds himself that Castiel's quirks are why he loves the other man.
"Only seven days till Christmas," Sam says conversationally. "Let me guess, you want porn and beer."
"You're the best brother ever," Dean grins despite the aching feeling in his chest. His life consists now of hunting and dreaming of Castiel, and he's not sure which one is worse. He's pretty sure he's going mad. Dean's pretty sure Sam thinks he's going mad too if the sympathetic looks are any indication. Sam doesn't pry though, for which Dean is grateful.
They check into their next hotel room and Dean turns on the television just in time for Hermey to tell Rudolph he wants to be a dentist. Still holding his bag, he stares, entranced at the screen.
"This place is Sacred."
"I want to fall."
"Yeah, he walked away from the love of his life. I could have killed him."
"Kenosha, Wisconsin, moping."
"We need to go," Dean doesn't even bother to shut the television off as he rushes out the room, bewildered, Sam quickly follows.
Three Days before Christmas, Dean's standing in a phone booth in an empty parking lot in Kenosha, Wisconsin flipping through a dirty phone book while Sam waits in the Impala. Unfortunately, Dean has no idea what to look for. He scrolls through the first fifteen pages of the A's, looking for Castiel's name when it comes to him. Quickly, he flips the book to the N's.
"Naber, Nelson, Nicholson, Novak!" There it is, clear as day. Castiel Novak. Dean runs back to the car. "I found him."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Castiel's apartment is near a small park and a cathedral. The mental image of Castiel naked against the altar floods Dean's mind, causing the man's skin to redden. There's a sparsely decorated tree in the window.
"Good luck," Sam says as Dean gets out of the car. Dean nods, determined not to fuck this up. He stands at Castiel's front door for what feels like days trying to gather his nerve. He feels some invisible force nudge his arm. Inside he can hear footsteps and the voice of Burl Ives. It's enough for Dean to knock.
"Coming," Dean's heart pounds at Castiel's familiar voice. The door opens and there he is, messy hair, stunning blue eyes, sharp jaw. He stares at Dean as though he can't fully believe his eyes.
"You're an idiot," Dean pushes past the stunned man into his apartment. It's small with brown carpeting and a yellow and green couch.
Dean whirls around to face the fallen angel. "Let me get this straight, you rescue me from Hell, become my best friend, make me fall in love with you, kiss me, leave me without so much as a goodbye, invade my dreams only for me to find out that you're not actually in Heaven, but here."
Castiel stares incredulously at him and for a minute Dean's fearful that the black haired man doesn't remember him. "Cas?"
"You love me?" The other man gasps and Dean can't find it in him to be mad anymore. How can he when he's there standing flesh and bone in front of him? They take a step forward, mutually drawn to each other. "You have a lot of explaining to do," Dean tells the angel.
"I thought I did the right thing," Castiel says slowly, "but after-"
"You realized you made a mistake."
Dean brushes the pad of his thumb across Castiel's cheek. "Is that flour?"
"I was making cookies to pay Santa," Castiel's so solemn that Dean burst out with laughter.
On Christmas day, Dean sits on Castiel's couch next to the angel. Sam's on the floor, his legs stretched out behind him. One of Dean's hand's rests on Castiel's, the other holds a sugar cookie. On the television, Kermit the Frog sings, "One More Sleep till Christmas."
"So what do you think?" Sam looks over at them, grinning, "Best Christmas ever?"
Lucifer's dead, the war is over, neither he or Sam were anyone's prom dresses, he has his angel, his brother, the Muppets and cookies. It doesn't get any better than this.