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“Okay, so Cas is wearing green boxers with stupid Santa faces on them.”
“Yeah, Jimmy, too.”
“Fu—”
“Dean.”
“—uuudgecicle.”
“Yeah, nice save.”
“Shut up.”
Dean stared at his prey across the room. Cas’ mother’s house—Naomi? Becky? Amy? Susan? One of those—was friggin huge and had enough room between the ginormous dining room and living room and some other room that was like a smaller living room and kitchen to fit all of Cas’ siblings and their families. Everyone was mingling as Dean and Amelia conspired in the corner. The twins were dressed identically—from the hair to the stupid green sweater vest with the stupid cartoon reindeer with the stupid red pom-pom for a nose to the red button up shirt to the shoes and jeans to the friggin underwear and Cas had even put on the same wedding ring as Jimmy. Probably so no one could tell them apart by using the tan line on Jimmy’s wedding finger.
Jerks.
They’d only been dating for a few months, but Cas had still invited him to his family’s chaotic Christmas Dinner. To Cas’ dismay—and Jimmy’s and thus Amelia’s—he was able to tell them apart pretty easily. Several times, Amelia asked him for tips on how to determine between the two. Dean would just shrug and say it was intuition. His brother had always said he would have made a good detective, but Dean didn’t think he would have liked the paperwork to go with it.
Anyway. Christmas was supposed to be a True Test against Dean’s ability to tell the two apart. Cas and Jimmy had gone to their parents’ house early, leaving Dean to pick up Amelia and Claire. Dean thought it would have been easy to tell the two apart—there was always something—but no such luck this time.
Earlier, when he had talked to them to try to figure out which one was which, he found out that Jimmy had slightly lowered his voice and Cas had slightly raised his voice to near perfect pitches of each other. They had even both responded with an eerie, “Hello, Dean. Hello, Amelia,” when they had approached. Everything was the same.
Except—
Wait. There.
“Amelia,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I think I have it figured out. How mad would you be if I accidentally make out with your husband?”
“What?!”
Those near them turned to them and gave them odd looks, but Dean paid them no mind. “I’m, like, seventy-eight percent sure—”
“Seventy-eight!?”
“—that the one on the left is Cas.”
“... How.”
“His shoulders are straighter. Jimmy slouches.”
“... How.”
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I can barely see it, but it’s there. Cas is standing just slightly taller. He can’t help it.”
Amelia sighed, but pushed him towards the twins. “Fine. Let’s go test out your theory.”
With a lecherous grin, Dean stalked towards his prey. He swayed his hips just slightly in the way he knew would grab Cas’ attention. And—lo and behold—the twin on his left looked at him a full second before the twin on the right did. Both had their eyes wide—with fright or what, Dean didn’t know—but the one on the left had that slightly predatory gaze he got when Dean did anything to get his engines going.
“Gentlemen,” Dean said with a smirk as he came up to the pair. One of their brothers—Gabriel, maybe? The blond one—stepped back with a smirk. Dean glanced between the two, just barely noticing that attention from the rest of the family had turned towards them.
“Dean,” the twins both intoned. But, yes, the one on the left looked slightly more freaked out.
Perfect.
Without further ado, Dean launched himself towards Cas, fisting that stupid green sweater vest and pulling him close to mash their lips together in a hungry kiss. It was all teeth and saliva and harsh breaths and Cas brought his hands up to Dean’s waist as if to hold on for dear life as Dean kissed the breath out of him. Dean trailed a hand up, resting his palm at the base of Cas’ throat and squeezing just barely in that way he knew Cas liked and sent his breath hitching. His other hand slid up, scratching just slightly as he went, to grasp at the just long enough hairs at the top of Cas’ head, threading and weaving through the dark strands to move his head into the position he wanted. The hand he had at Cas’ throat moved up slowly, gently, to cup Cas’ jaw, thumb brushing softly over the skin of his cheek as he slowed the kiss to a more leisurely pace, one he didn’t usually do in front of other people—hell, he wasn’t one for PDA in the first place—because it made him feel so vulnerable.
But it was soft, and simple, and tender. It made his heart swell as Cas brought a hand up to cradle the side of his face, fingertips tracing fire wherever they went. Dean let go of Cas’ hair, moving it down to cradle the back of Cas’ neck. His fingertips buried themselves through the much shorter strands, but didn’t tug.
He pulled back just enough to heave in a breath of air before diving back in, going back to that slow pace he knew Cas liked. Dean tried to pull them closer, but there wasn’t any space left between them.
A light cough from behind him drew his attention away. With one last gentle nip to Cas’ bottom lip, he pulled away. Their breathing was heavy. He could hear Cas’ heart thrumming and pumping and trembling from excitement. It echoed his own. He could smell Cas’ shampoo—that one that smelled like lightning and rainy evenings.
“Wow,” said Gabriel. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice. “Who knew baby bro had it in him?”
Dean licked his lips. They were slick with Cas’ spit. Kinda gross, but whatever. He had asked for it. “You have no idea,” he told Gabriel.
Cas was panting still, still gripping his hip and his other hand had moved down to his shoulder as if to stay steady. “H-How?” he managed to gasp out, voice low once again.
Dean smirked and turned to Jimmy. “You need to work on your posture.”