Work Text:
Dean Winchester groaned as his work phone rang, taking a moment to text his assistant back in his cell while the phone trilled in the background. He ignored it willfully, lips pursed and hands steepled. It pittered into silence and Dean gave a grateful sigh. He just needed moment to collect his thoughts. He still needed to plan his winter vacation. Or at least ask his assistant to do it. He had procrastinated until the last minute, and he was balls at making plans anyway. That gave Dean a little weight off his shoulders.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, typing a quick message to his daughter.
Dean: 2:30PM
hey, so we leave tomorrow. I'm getting everything ready at work for the vacation and I need you and JJ to pack up and make sure that you have everything that you need.
Emma: 2:32PM
JJ doesn't want to pack. He's running around the house. Why can't he stay with papa and u and me head to the beach house?
Dean sighed. He knew this was coming. Emma loved her brother. But some days JJ was a little hard to handle and only Ketch, his ex-husband, could settle the unruly child. Sometimes it felt like JJ only seemed to care about Ketch. Dean was inconsequential.
Dean: 2:38PM
We can't baby girl. Your papa is spending the summer in London. He left already and this is your brother. Love him. Have everything packed by the time I get home.
Emma: 2:40pm
:( I love JJ, I do but dad, he's…. You know
Dean shook his head. Emma was sixteen, opinionated and an over-thinker just like him. Of all of Dean's traits she could have inherited, it had to be his lackluster personality.
JJ had just turned nine, and latched onto Ketch as his favorite person. JJ hated the fact that Dean and Ketch divorced; he frequently tried his best to get his parents back together in increasingly elaborate plans.
Dean: 2:42pm
Please just pack. I'll be home as soon as I can
Delivered
Dean placed his phone back onto the table and began gathering his things. He had a short drive ahead of him, but not enough time to actually think about how he was going to deal with his two children. Alone on vacation for a whole month. The get-away to the winter cabin was one of the few things he looked forward to each year. Or at least he used to.
Sam often would come up during the winter holiday to spend time with Dean’s family. Since his divorce to Ketch, that didn't happen anymore. The cabin was full of memories of his marriage and his mistakes. After his marriage ended, Dean just stopped going. He didn't need reminders of what he failed at there, too.
The kids didn't mind his avoidance of the wintry retreat. In fact Emma hated the cabin once she turned eleven.
But Dean’s work and family life itched at him. He wanted to be the best father he could be. He didn't want to be a John Winchester. He wanted to bond with his kids. He wanted to spend time with them. His realization came with the thought the cabin would be perfect. They could spend time as a family for the holidays.
Just him and his children.
He hoped that they could get through the holidays without incident.
- ●•
As he walked to the front door, he could make out the frustrated calls of Emma. Dean pressed an ear to the door, listening in for just a moment, his hands hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath in preparation.
“Honestly JJ! Just pick one jacket. Dad will be here soon.” Emma stomped a foot and groaned dramatically, and Dean could hear her eyes rolling through the oak door. “He should let you stay with papa. Me and him can have fun together at the cabin.”
Dean sighed. He hoisted his briefcase up and turned the doorknob. He dropped his briefcase by the door, pushing it out of the way with the toe of his fancy work-appropriate leather shoes. Dean slipped out of his coat and hung it up.
“JJ! Listen to your sister!” Dean called from the entryway and Dean heard muffled scuffling, a muttered Ow! and then the pounding of socked feet rushing towards him. JJ pushed past his sister, his arms laden with coats and his lips pouted in a frown. Emma trailed behind JJ, her eyes narrowed. She stopped as she saw her father, cocking her hip and pointing at her younger brother in annoyance.
“He just won't pick one,” she complained, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been at this for hours. At this point, we should just let him stay with dad.”
“Shut up Emma,” JJ retorted, puffing out his chest indignantly. “Each coat is special to me. I can't just pick one. And just because you don't care about being warm doesn’t mean I don’t. We're going to the middle of nowhere and you know how cold it gets up there. If you freeze that's your fault.”
“ Ugh ,” Emma rolled her eyes again. “Dad. I'm done packing and I'm gonna go and watch Novak's newest music video.”
“Ugh. Why do you even like him?” JJ interjected, pulling a face. “He's a dick.”
Dean frowned. “Language JJ. Where did you even pick up that word?”
“You.” Emma and JJ said in unison.
“And he's not,” Emma argued, shaking her head in disagreement. “He's such a sweetheart. He donates to charity. He helps people. Novak’s not like the rest of the celebrities. He's a gentle soul.”
“Yeah, well,” JJ interrupted in an excellent comeback. “His music is crap.”
Dean held out a hand to stop his kids from bickering. This really was going to be a long vacation.
“JJ. C’mon man, your sister likes him and you should be supportive. The same way that she supported your fascination over that superhero movie. You know, the one with the dude. In the weird suit.”
Emma stuck out her tongue. “Dad's right JJ. Oh Dad! I heard that Novak will be up in Vermont the same time that we are and he’s doing fan meet and greet.” She looked to Dean as though she was carefully calculating her next choice of words. “I would love to go.”
Her eyes were pleading. Dean kind of understood where she was coming from. Novak was handsome, beautiful, and his music actually wasn't half that bad.
He might just join her.
“Yeah sweetheart. We will see, okay?”
She lit up, running towards her dad and wrapping him in a crushing hug.
“Now can we all finish up and get on the road?”
○•
The cabin held an odd air as Dean drove up the spindly driveway, rock crunching under the tires. The cabin had belonged to his family for generations. His father and his father's father and everyone before that had always come to the cabin. Dad had met his mom here, and before them, his grandparents had met here. Of course it had been where Dean met Ketch.
Their relationships lasted longer than his.
“Looks like Mr. McAllister isn't next door this year,” Dean commended, noticing the cabin next door was empty. Normally the old man would be greeting them with cocoa and warm cookies at the ready. It was a strange sort of feeling with Mr. McAllister gone.
“Aww. I wanted some of his famous hot chocolate with the little marshmallows that he puts in them. He doesn't actually use hot water, dad.” JJ pattered up the walkway, calling over his shoulder at Dean. Lately, he had been working so much that he didn't have much time to spend with his kids, let alone make cocoa for them. Dean made his cocoa with water.
“Aw that sucks,” Emma taunted. “Which means no cocoa this year for JJ. Unless you make it, dad. Because I'm not making the brat anything.”
Dean rolled his eyes. One night. He hoped to get at least one night of them acting civil towards each other. He hefted luggage under his arm, one suitcase strangling the circulation in his hand.
“Daddddddd,” Emma groaned, all teenage attitude as Dean fumbled for the keys. “Today?”
“What?” Dean asked, unlocking the door. He set the bags down, motioning for his children to take them to be put away.
“Dad.” Emma said, grabbing her own bag. “I know we planned to spend the day unpacking and vegging out, but can I go and look around a bit?”
Dean sighed inwardly. Five minutes and his daughter was already trying to get away from him.
“If you put your bag in your room. Just be back before it gets dark, okay? And take your coat with you. And text me if you go anywhere I don't know it. Just text me in general alright?”
“Alright dad I got it! Geez.” She quieted, considering him and her tone went calmer. “I'll be back before it gets dark. Love you.”
°•
It's nearing seven when Dean checked his phone, pulling up the pizza app and sending in a quick order for delivery. Dusk has darkened the sun a bit as he glanced through the curtains and the TV drolled some sort of cartoon JJ liked. Dean scratched his head absentmindedly. Emma would probably be home soon, he thought. She was always pretty good at listening to him.
“JJ how about you go and get washed up for dinner?”
“What are we eating?”
“I ordered pizza. I didn't really have time to prepare anything and we don't have food anyway. So I got some pies on their way here. You wanna finish getting all the stuff settled? I'm gonna head outside and gather some more logs for the fire. Maybe we can sit and eat by the fireplace.”
JJ huffed noncommittally. “Sure. Whatever.”
Dean didn’t respond, just shrugged his shoulders to himself. He headed towards the log pile, carefully tarped the last time they had visited as a family. Thankfully Ketch had the foresight to split the logs before they’d left for the last time, using the time outside to avoid Dean.
Dean was about five minutes into stacking up a modest pile for the week when he heard voices and Dean froze, listening. It wasn’t common for people to come this far off the road, even for his neighbors. Mostly he just saw them at the runs to the tiny store in town. Even Mr. McAllister wasn’t a common visitor to the cabin without calling on his ancient rotary phone beforehand.
“Hey. I see a flashlight! Maybe someone is there.” It was a female voice and Dean froze stupidly, like the victim right before the killer gets them. He focused on listening intently, trying to gauge the character of the people before they killed him.
There was rustling in the bushes and Dean startled, fumbling for the huge safety flashlight and aiming it’s high beam at three intruders “Hey, this is private-” he stopped, as a man’s handsome gaze blinked at him blearily. “Oh! Um!” Dean immediately dimmed the flashlight and flushed, scratching at the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“Oh hello,” a husky feminine voice greeted, reaching out to shake Dean’s hand. “I’m Duma, that’s Balthazar, and the nice one is Castiel.” The two men hung just a bit back, and Dean tried to keep his eyes from the attractive man, Castiel, to see he had hazy blue eyes up close. Blue was always Dean’s favorite, and didn’t he look just the slightest bit familiar? Like someone he’d seen recently? Dean coughed and cleared his throat to distract himself, tearing his gaze away from the man.
“Hi. Hi, ” Dean repeated as his voice cracked, high pitched and awkward. “What- what are you guys doing out here? We don’t get visitors out here often.”
“Yeah,” the Castiel said, folding his arms over each other. “We uh. Kind of got lost. Our bus broke down and we tried to walk, but it's freezing out. We’re not exactly dressed for Vermont Winter.”
“Yeah. Ya'll ain't exactly dressed right,” Dean agreed, taking in the woman’s thin jacket and the single sweaters the men had on. Dean even had a thick jacket, a hat, and gloves shoved in his pockets. “Castiel, did say? Sounds familiar, or something.” He gestured to the three, piling several logs in his arms. “Well, ya’ll are welcome to stay for the night, and try to find better help in the morning. Just help me get the rest of these logs if you could.” Balthazar was first to grab wood, cocking an appraising eyebrow at Dean as he bent over. Castiel simply grabbed an armful of wood and bent over again to pick up the last piece when Duma went to grab it.
“Oh you’ve might have heard it somewhere. We’re a band,” Balthazar purred, smirking at Dean. “Castiel Novak. Heard of him?”
Oh. Oh no. Castiel . Castiel Novak. He had heard that name. “What?” Dean squeaked, nearly dropping one of his logs. “Like the musician?”
Castiel stepped forward and Dean felt his heart race. No wonder Dean had recognized him. Castiel Novak was his daughter’s greatest obsession since Justin Bieber. Even he’d danced and fantasized to a few of the risque tunes. Of course only at the witching hour, when nobody could possibly see him.
“Yeah, made it good a couple years back,” Castiel said good naturedly, smiling. “Thank you so much. I promise we’ll get you back for the inconvenience.”
“No problem. If anything, it’s my daughter you’ll have to worry about,” Dean attempted to joke, his insides mushy. “She’s going to be thrilled.”
- □
“Honestly JJ! Why would you even touch that! You know how much that means to me. Ugh!” Dean opened the door with a windy breeze, shaking his head at his arguing kids. JJ mumbled some unheard reply. “You don't even want to be here.”
“I love dad just as much as you do!” JJ yelled. “I have every right to be here.”
Dean groaned, setting the wood by the hearth and beckoning Castiel, Duma, and Balthazar in.
“I take it those are yours?” Castiel asked, chuckling.
Dean nodded. “My pride and joy. Though, they fight so much that it's ridiculous.”
“Siblings.” Castiel smiled. “It's something we all do. Do you have a brother or sister?” he asked, and Dean nodded.
“A brother. We fought but never like the two of them do.”
“Each set is different. But you know deep down inside that they do love each other.”
Dean shook his head. He was right, yeah.
“Hey!” Dean hollered over their bickering, and the kids quieted in the living room. “We have some guest joining us. Having some car trouble so they’ll be staying tonight. JJ can you get their coats? Emma? Can you come here real quick?” The kids padded to the entryway, and Emma frowned at Dean.
Emma frowned. “Dad. I swear I was back by dark. And the pizza’s here. What---”
Her words cut off the second her eyes landed on the people bringing up the rear. Her face morphed from worry to stunned silence to excitement.
“Dad--”
She began to shake.
“Dad. That's… Cas--”
“Help them get warmed up by the fire Em? Please? Let’s not make this a big deal.” Emma’s eyes widened, but at Dean’s pointed look, she rushed forward, her eyes focused directly on Castiel's. The man smiled, beaming at her before looking to Dean and Dean warmed in a way he hadn’t in a long while.
“This is so awesome. I can’t wait to tell everyone. Castiel. Novak. came to my house during holiday break!” Emma squealed in excitement under her breath. “C’mon dad, let’s get the fire going.”
- ▪
Dean didn't think that celebrities actually ate pizza. In fact he thought that they all had these silly little diets with fancy names like keto and paleo that they swore by. However, seeing Castiel Novak scarf down four slices of pizza had Dean falling in love with the man. And when he asked for an extra slice of pie, Dean was done for. Soon, Dean shuffled JJ off to bed as he rubbed at his eyes. Emma also started to drift off, yawning wide and trying to peel her eyes open so she could stare at Castiel more. But when she drifted off to soft snores, Dean shook her gently and urged her to bed. Slowly, Duma snuggled up on the couch and Balthazar leaned back in the lazy boy and before he knew it, Dean and Castiel were alone in next to the fire sharing warmth and polite conversation.
“Thanks for all of this.” Castiel said quietly, smiling. “I thought for sure that we would have died out there What luck that we came across you?”
Dean looked down at his hands, a faint blush crossing his cheeks. Usually Dean had been the smooth talker, the one who got all the pretty men and ladies wrapped around his little finger. His tongue was tied, and he was just as enraptured by Castiel as his daughter was. His daughter like Castiel for his celebrity. He… felt like he liked Castiel for something else.
Dean wished that they had sat at the kitchen table like he had planned instead of the fireplace. He was so warm, and Castiel was so close--
He jerked his gaze to Castiel when a hand touched his.
Castiel stared back at him, serious. “You have a nice smile,” Castiel said, before smiling. “Nice eyes too. I don't get to meet too many of the parents of my fans. They hate my music.”
“Yeah well, Emma got me into it with one song, which one… I think it's the one about the end of the world or something like that. Or in the video it depicted the end of the world…” Dean coughed, trying to slow his racing heart. Castiel’s hand still hadn’t moved.
“Swan song.” Castiel kept his eyes on Dean. “That was a favorite of mine. I loved the video shoot for it.”
“Yeah. Well. After that one I fell in love with your music.”
That seemed to make Castiel gleam.
“Seems we have that in common.”
°•
Dean woke slowly to the strange absence of bickering. He pulled himself out of bed, sliding his cold feet into his fuzzy slippers and wandered to the kitchen.. He half expected Emma to be glued Castiel, but she sat on the couch, a reading quietly, a stack of notebooks around her.
“He gave me some lyrics, Dad!” she chimed, beaming as he entered the room.
“Only the good ones,” Castiel said, stepping forward. “Need some help?”
“Nah. Just getting some plastic plates for breakfast..”
“We’ve got a ride, it’ll be here shortly. The others are already outside waiting,” Castiel said, trailing after Dean. “I’ll be here shortly.” Dean stopped as a hand came to his elbow, turning him around. Castiel was looking at him, and then he was looking up and Dean followed Castiel’s gaze upward. His heart jumped.
“Mistletoe,” Castiel murmured, pulling Dean toward him. His eyes were heat, and Dean was being swallowed whole. “ You know what that means right?”
Lips are on his, and Dean can’t think. He freezes, his lips chaste against Castiel’s, but somehow it is still wonderful, a spark of want flooding his body.
It doesn't last long. Before he knows it, Dean’s lips are tingling and there is space between him and Castiel but Castiel is still so close and warm and lovely.
“I guess that's something to tell your friends,” the singer says lowly, huffing a laugh.
Dean nods, dazed. “Yeah.” His words are molasses, slow and heavy and his fingers clench over a piece of paper as Castiel folds it in his hand.
“I don’t like to kiss and tell. But you… if you want, I’d love for you to call me.” Dean jumps at a honk and Castiel grins, rushing forward once more to brush a kiss against Dean’s cheek. “Thanks for everything.”
As Dean watches Cas clamber up the stairs of his fancy tour bus, Dean melts a little inside. His hand pulls his phone from his pocket and he traces the digits on the piece of paper before opening a new contact. He types in the area code, and then phone number. Sets the contact name as Sexy Musician. And when he slides the phone back in to his pocket after sending a quick “This is Dean,” message, he can’t help but smile. Maybe this would be his best holiday so far.