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The 5th Shade
“‘Scuse me, comin’ through.”
Dean stepped to the side to let Gabriel, who was carrying a basket of rolled silverware in one hand and a plaid red and orange tablecloth in the other, pass him on his way to the dining room table.
“Dean, can you check the pies?” John Winchester asked, pouring the juices from the bottom of the pan over the slowly roasting turkey.
“Of course,” Dean smacked his lips noisily, earning him a raised eyebrow and an odd look from John. Unconcerned, he mumbled, “love me some pie,” when John turned back to his turkey.
The Winchesters and the Novaks decided to have Thanksgiving dinner together at the Winchester residence this year. They'd invited a few other close friends, most of whom had other plans and couldn't make it.
That was all too agreeable to Dean, though. He and Cas had been together for a couple months, but had yet to tell their respective families. Thanksgiving, they decided, was the opportunity they'd been waiting for, and Dean hadn't been keen on the idea of “coming out” when his next door neighbors and Cas’ third grade teacher were at the table.
When the whole party -which was really just the Winchesters and the Novaks- was seated around the ancient oak dining table in various mismatched chairs, Mary stopped everyone from loading their plates by mockingly tapping her glass with her spoon.
“I think we should go around the room and each say something we’re thankful for,” she suggested, squeezing her husband's hand on the table. It looked like a show of affection, but in reality she was keeping him from attacking the plate of ham in front of him.
“That’s a great idea,” Mrs. Novak spoke up, “I'll go first. I’m thankful for…” She looked around the table at all the expectant faces, and her gaze landed on her husband. “I’m thankful for us. For this family, that we can be together today. I'm thankful for the Winchesters, and all that they've done for us.”
Mary nodded, an encouraging smile on her face. “How about we go around the table. Chuck?”
Mr. Novak looked up from the bowl of stuffing he was eyeing, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his chair. “Yes, of course. I'm thankful for the, ahhh.. for the bountiful harvest that has been placed before us on this beautiful day.”
Gabriel scoffed, “fancy way of saying ‘thanks for the food.’”
Chuck cleared his throat again and shot his son a warning look.
“Why don't you say what you're thankful for, Gabriel,” he prompted.
Gabriel paused a split second before stating in the most enthusiastic voice he could manage, “I'm thankful for Sam's ass.”
Sam choked on his wine, Dean threw the most horrified/disgusted face he'd ever made first at his brother then Gabriel, and Cas sighed at the ceiling. The whole table fell into an awkward silence, glasses frozen halfway to lips, the only exception being Sam coughing into his napkin and covering his entire face with it at the same time.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, smirking, and crossed his arms over his chest smugly.
“Gabriel!” Sam coughed out in between hacks. “That is not how we agreed to tell them!”
Both the elder Winchester and Novak couples shared a look.
“Tell us…..?” John started, letting the unspoken question hang. Mary laid a hand on his shoulder, leaned over, and whispered in his ear for several seconds before straightening back into her seat.
John paled but kept his mouth firmly closed.
Dean looked at Cas questioningly who just shrugged in response.
Sam coughed once more and all eyes turned to him. His eyes were a bit red from almost dying, and his throat was hoarse.
“I'm thankful that Gabriel's gotten over his blatant crudity.”
It was Dean's turn to snort. “Blatant crudity,” he muttered. Sometimes he wondered when exactly Sam swallowed a thesaurus.
“What's that, Dean-o?” Gabriel smiled at him from across the table.
“Didn't say anything.”
“Oh, my bad. I thought you were bringing up what you're thankful for about your boyfriend.” Gabriel brought an ankle up to his knee, letting it rest there while he made suggestive hand motions between Dean and Cas.
This time it was John that choked on his drink, spewing red wine all over his as-of-yet empty plate.
Dean’s face turned the color of an overripe tomato, whereas Cas’ turned a nice shade of month-old oatmeal.
“Gabriel,” Cas warned.
“No, no. Y’know what, Gabriel, screw you.” Dean stood, knocking his chair over behind him, and leaned over the table in the direction of Gabriel. Cas put a hand on his arm, but Dean jerked it away.
“Dean, honey, maybe you should sit down,” Mary said softly but firmly. John nodded his agreement.
“And Gabriel,” Chuck started. “Chill.” Mrs Novak sighed and rolled her eyes, head resting in her hand.
Gabriel set both feet back on the floor and helped himself to a dinner roll. Dean remained standing, glaring down at the shorter man.
“Hey, not my fault if Dean-o’s so uptight. Cassie must not be doing his job very well.”
There was a sharp intake of breath as Dean prepared his witty comeback.
“Hey, Cas does a fantastic job!”
John let his head drop to his chest, then into his plate with a loud thunk! Mary hid a laugh behind her hand, and Chuck poured himself more wine.
Cas stood and pulled on Dean’s sleeve.
“Dean, please,” he whispered.
Dean took a long look at Cas before turning to pick up his chair. He sat with a huff and a “pass the gravy,” avoiding eye contact with Gabriel. For Cas, he could shut up.
Everyone helped themselves to the food scattered around the table, filling their plates and their mouths.
Dean pretended not to notice when Gabriel scooted his chair closer to Sam's, probably scratching the nice wood floor in the process. But when Gabriel rested his hand on Sam’s thigh under the table (Dean hoped it was just resting there), he snapped.
He barely had enough restraint to phrase his insult as the festive thanksgiving tradition of giving thanks before he blurted it out.
“I'm thankful for Cas not being anything like his brother,” he told his cranberry sauce in a loud enough voice that all the other fruits around the table could hear.
“I'm thankful that Dean learned when to let go,” Cas said in a monotone with absolutely no hesitation, looking matter-of-factly at his own plate while rolling peas around with his fork.
Dean threw a betrayed face at Cas, then turned back to his food, low key glaring at Gabriel through his lashes. His scowl deepened as Gabriel spoon-fed Sam potatoes, casually wiping a drop off his boy toy’s chin and licking the digit clean.
Dean jumped a bit, sloshing wine down his sleeve to the elbow when Castiel rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.
“My turn,” John Winchester muttered after an elbow to the ribs from his wife. “I'm thankful for… ah… for the Pittsburgh Steelers. They're doing great this season.”
John turned quickly to his food, shoveling in a mouthful of vegetables and avoiding Mary’s death stare.
Mary stood, drawing the attention of all around the table, with the exception of her husband who was trying to spit chunks of half-chewed asparagus into his napkin with no one noticing. She paused and looked around the table, her gaze resting on each person for several seconds.
“I'm thankful for this family.” She said proudly. “We may not be perfect, but we're pretty damn close, and I couldn't ask for better sons.. or hopefully someday sons-in-law.” She beamed at her sons and their respective boyfriends.
She sat, asked Chuck to say grace, and they all officially dug into the meal.
Ellen and Jo Harvelle stomped into the dining room shortly afterwards, bringing gifts in the form of food. “Sorry we're late. We miss anything?”
The whole table shared a look and busted out into giggling fits.
-END-