Chapter Text
Castiel has been in many different warzones in his impressively long lifetime, but Walmart the day before Christmas is a new one for him. It’s crowded, everyone seems angry about the fact that it’s crowded, and Castiel just had to fight a man in a full-body fur costume for the last box of Honey Nut Cheerios. Someone has thrown up in the canned goods aisle, and when Castiel turns his back for a moment to inspect some apples, a woman tries to steal the sliced bread out of his cart and then acts like she'd thought it was hers.
They’ve just returned from a hunt—or, technically, two hunts, both of them nasty cases of ghost possession. They had needed to split since the cases were happening almost simultaneously, Castiel and Eileen and Jack taking on one case while Sam and Dean tackled the other. They weren't particularly hard to solve but left a string of victims, and that took its toll on all of them.
With the holidays approaching, the entire hunter network is on high alert, determined to make sure no one's Christmas will be ruined by the supernatural. Castiel thinks it all would be so much easier if people stopped celebrating it altogether since it isn't Jesus Christ's actual birthday anyway.
"Christmas a-a-ain't about Jesus," Dean had said, sounding downright offended by the very idea. "It's ab-b-bout fancy food a-a-and eggnog and movies. And ma-ma-making Scrooge pay."
To better coordinate their efforts and to offer a home for the holidays for every hunter who wants it, they are preparing to have the bunker not only function as headquarters but also as a sort of holiday bed and breakfast. Castiel can tell that Dean doesn't really like it—his quiet time with his family is important to him, and now "their Christmas" got pushed to a later date. But Dean didn't protest when Sam shared his plans, steadfast in his decision to let Sam take the reigns regarding the network and have his back every step of the way.
Now, after triumphantly placing the box of cereal in his cart, Castiel consults the shopping list again. It's written in Sam's neat handwriting and is so long that Castiel feels lost every time he looks at it. This would all be so much easier if Dean were here to help.
On the way to the store, Dean had complained about still feeling tired even after two cups of coffee, so Castiel got him a third one when they stopped for gas. Dean's delight quickly morphed into grumpiness when he discovered that, while he was now more awake, there were other consequences to drinking that much coffee in quick succession.
"Public bathrooms a-a-are gross, Cas. They're a petri d-d-dish."
His fidgeting and bad mood eventually got so annoying that Cas pushed him to the restrooms.
"Go pee. I'll wait here."
And he had meant to wait, but then he’d looked at the list and it was just so long. Surely, if he went ahead and got a few more items while Dean was busy, Dean would be grateful because that meant they could get out of the overcrowded store sooner.
So Cas went and got the next two items. And then he figured that Dean could just call him when he came out and couldn't find Castiel on his own.
It’s now been about twenty minutes. But there is probably a line in the restroom, or maybe Dean is shopping on his own and about to meet Castiel in the middle.
If Castiel hasn't burned down the entire place by then.
He's just managed to obtain fresh milk while standing next to a man with an incredibly historically inaccurate replica of a samurai sword strapped to his back and whose body odor likely would have made Castiel nauseous if he was human. Suddenly, the obnoxiously happy Christmas music blaring through the speakers is interrupted by a weary voice announcing, "Mr. Cas Winchester, your husband is at register six."
With a frown, Cas looks up at the speakers, but the voice offers no further explanation. Maybe Dean is trying to mess with him? He still isn’t back.
When Castiel calls his phone, it rings but Dean doesn’t pick up.
Annoyed and frustrated and trying to dodge a small but persistent dog that's been following him for four aisles and keeps trying to fornicate with his leg, Castiel checks the list again.
The last item on it is rock salt, and Castiel heaves two bags into the cart and then makes his way towards the registers. With everyone joining together as a mass with their carts, unable to form distinct lines, he has to push through both carriages and people. Why no one has set fire to the entire place yet, he does not understand.
At long last, and using his superior strategizing skills to his advantage, he manages to navigate past a woman with three shopping carts who has a small goat strapped to her back in a baby carrier, and reaches register six.
And there, sitting on the bench and fixing Castiel with a death glare, is Dean.
"Where th-the fuck ha-ha-have you been?" he hisses, getting up and glaring at Castiel. He's clutching a few items to his chest—flour, icing, colorful sprinkles, and a box of what looks like cookie cutters.
Confused, Castiel looks between the register and Dean. So it had been Dean behind this after all, and he had been trying to find Castiel instead of messing with him. What Castiel doesn’t get is why Dean went about it in such a strange way.
"Why did you come here? You could have just called me."
"My phone's a-a-at home.” The plastic of the icing package crinkles where Dean is clutching it too tightly in his ire. “It's charging, which I t-t-told you before we l-l-left."
"I don't recall," Castiel says, though he does, in fact, recall Dean saying something along those lines while Castiel was distracted with the impressive shopping list Sam had just handed him. He’s unwilling to admit that right now though, too pissed off still by the crowd in the store and his battle to the registers.
"Oh, he d-d-doesn't rec-c-call," Dean sneers while they move to the end of the queue. "Do you know how long I I-l-looked for you? Th-th-the things I saw?" He shudders dramatically and makes a face. "I th-th-think I saw some guy dressed as a c-c-cow pour milk in his—ugh, let's not t-t-talk about it."
"It's not my fault this place is abominable," Castiel counters haughtily while he starts to put their items on the conveyor belt.
"Yeah, b-but you said-d-d you'd wait." Dean is pouting now, his tone changing from angry to hurt. "A-a-and then you just l-l-left me th-there."
"Dean, put your items on the belt. Why did you even take these? They were not on the list."
"D-did you even look f-f-for me?" The corners of Dean’s mouth are turned down and his shoulders are rounded and small. Under other circumstances, this would lead to Castiel softening towards him, giving Dean the reassurance he obviously needs. Right now, all he wants is to get out of the store as fast as possible and the delay is irritating him, chipping away at the last vestiges of his patience.
"Dean, put your items down," he repeats impatiently.
Dean only clutches them tighter to his chest.
"Those are mi-mi-mine!"
"Fine", Castiel growls. Putting a divider down, he demonstratively turns his back to Dean.
He’s aware that he’s being short with Dean, but he doesn’t know any other way to get through this without snapping at him even more than he’s already doing.
Whoever is responsible for Walmart being the way it is, Castiel will find them and strangle them.
Dean pays for his items himself and doesn't help at all with putting their haul back into the cart. He seems to be taking special care to hide his cookie cutters from Castiel, not that Castiel is at all interested in the things.
He assists Castiel in storing away their groceries in the trunk, but even though they’re out of the store now, their irritation remains. They’re still arguing by the time they walk back into the bunker, arms loaded with groceries and the bags of rock salt.
“I don’t even l-l-like soup.”
“You said you would be okay with it as long as there was meat in it.”
“Well, I’ve cha-a-anged my m—my m-m-mind.”
“That’s your problem then.”
Sam and Eileen are sitting at the kitchen table, laptops open and documents spread out between them. They were probably enjoying their coffee while having a peaceful conversation before Dean and Castiel came in. Now, they look at the two of them with confused expressions.
"Uh, guys? Everything okay?"
Dean, who had been completely ignoring the two of them, whirls on them now.
"I w-w-went to go take a piss and he— " Dean points an accusing finger at Castiel, his agitation unmistakable in the way his disfluency worsens, "Said-d-d he'd w-w-wait, a-a-and th-th-then he ju-just fucked off.”
Dean grabs his box of cookie cutters that's he's been hiding under one of the empty shopping bags, shoulders past Castiel, and stalks out. Tense silence follows his departure.
With a defeated sigh, Castiel sits down beside Eileen and puts his head in his hands.
"There, there," she says, patting his back. Castiel hopes that Sam relayed to her what they were arguing about—she can't read Dean's lips when he is this disfluent.
"You okay, Cas?" Sam asks.
From behind his hands, Castiel growls, "No.”
“You want some help?”
Lifting his head, Castiel looks at Sam pleadingly.
Sam chuckles lightly. "Alright, okay." Then his voice gets more serious. "You understand that saying you're gonna wait and then leaving is kind of rude, right?"
Castiel sighs. “I know. I was just stressed before, and annoyed. I wanted to get out of the store, and it didn’t make sense to me why Dean would call me to the register like that because I’d forgotten he didn’t have his phone.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight.”
Looking between Sam and Eileen, he asks, “What do you think I should do?”
“Say you’re sorry for leaving and that you’ll make it up to him,” Sam advises, signing as he speaks. “Offer to do something you both enjoy. Something relaxing so you can both wind down a little.”
Eileen chimes in with, “Maybe try a bath. We bought Epsom bath salt. You can say you stole it from us, he’ll like that.”
She smiles at him and winks, and Castiel feels the last vestiges of his frustration drain away, replaced by warmth.
It’s good to have a family.
In the bathroom that holds the large tub, Castiel takes off his trenchcoat, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work.
He finds the Epsom salt stashed under the sink, and also a handful of orange and cinnamon scented candles. When the tub is a quarter of the way full, he stops the water, unsure how long it will take him to coax Dean into the bathroom and unwilling to let all the water grow cold and sabotage his plan.
He finds Dean in their room, curled up on Castiel's side of the bed and engaged in an angry staring contest with the wall. The cookie cutters are nowhere to be seen.
With a sigh, Castiel lets the door click shut behind him and then sits down on the bed behind Dean. Dean doesn't verbally acknowledge him but Castiel can see his back tense.
"Dean… I'm sorry I left when I said I would wait. I didn't mean to distress you or make you worry." The regret in his voice is genuine, and Dean must hear it too, because to Castiel's surprise he rolls over to face him, though his eyes are still guarded.
"I'd like to make it up to you. Would you like a bath? I've, um. I've maybe stolen Sam and Eileen's Epsom salt. Please don't tell them."
The expression on Dean's face changes from suspicious to mischievous. His eyes light up and a slow smile spreads on his face. "You d-did?" He asks, his voice soft and a little awed, like he's genuinely touched Castiel did something morally questionable for him.
Castiel did steal the candles, so he thinks it still counts.
"I did. Come on."
In the bath, Dean looks around and then nudges Castiel's shoulder with his. "W-w-went all out, huh?" There's a rosy blush on his cheeks, like Castiel filling a tub with hot water and lighting a few scented candles is some hugely luxurious gift to him. Castiel vows to himself to do small things like this more often for Dean from now on.
While Dean undresses, Castiel fills the tub up the rest of the way, steam wafting up into the air. Dean sinks into the water with a groan of contentment, and then reaches up and starts tugging insistently on Castiel's pant leg.
"Quit ogling me and ge-ge-get in he-here, dumbass."
He scoots forward in the tub, and Castiel eyes the space behind him hesitantly. "I might be too big to fit in there," he cautions, which, inexplicably, makes Dean huff out a breath of laughter.
"Alright, big boy, sh-sh-show us w-w-what you got." He says with a wink and a leer. And then with a fond eye roll at Castiel's confused expression, "G-g-get naked, dummy."
It is a tight fit, but Dean doesn't seem to mind. Lying between Castiel's legs, Dean rests with his back against Castiel's chest and leans his head on his shoulder with a blissful sigh.
Not knowing where to put his hands, Castiel has rested them on the edge of the tub, but Dean has other ideas. "I'm l-l-literally sit-t-ting on your dick, Cas, quit a-a-acting like a virgin at prom ni-ni-night." Snatching Castiel's hands up, Dean plunges them under the water to rest on his belly where he intertwines their fingers.
“Mm, th-that’s nice.”
He closes his eyes and goes pliant against Castiel, basically melting into the bathwater.
“Cas?”
“Yes?”
“You’re forg-g-given.”
They soak for long enough that Dean actually falls into a light doze. It’s nice to just enjoy the water and the quiet for a while. It’s only been a handful of days, but he’s missed holding Dean like this and being close to him. His warmth and the beat of his heart are grounding, anchoring, and to Castiel it will always be special to know him this intimately.
There’s a couple of shampoo and shower gel bottles next to the tub. Castiel nudges Dean awake, coaxes him to sit up a little. Craning his neck to see what Castiel is doing, Dean starts to smirk when Castiel selects a shower gel that has essential oil mixed into it and squirts some into his palm.
“You pl-l-lanning on g-g-giving me a happy ending, Ca— mmm, oh fuck yes-s-s.”
Swiping his hands up and down Dean’s back to spread the shower gel, Castiel starts to massage Dean’s neck and shoulders.
“Good?"
All he gets in return is a blend of a sigh and a moan.
By the time they finally leave the bath, Dean is loose-limbed and has a permanent smile on his face. He makes good-natured fun of the way Castiel’s hair curls behind his ears from the humidity and presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw.
“Lie d-d-down for a bit ‘n cuddle?” Dean requests when Castiel asks what he wants to do next.
The twinkle in Dean’s eyes suggests he’s probably looking to make out, but the moment they lie down, he starts yawning. He curls into Castiel’s chest like an overgrown cat and seconds later, he’s snoring.
Castiel lies beside him, stroking his back until he’s sure that Dean’s deeply asleep. Then he pulls a blanket over the both of them and reaches over to this bedside table for a book.
“Thank you again for your advice, both of you. Dean was quite thrilled with the Epsom salt.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I believe he has taken the rest of your stash and hidden it somewhere.”
“...Goddammit.”
“He said it made him able to poop really well.”
Eileen laughs at the queasy look on Sam’s face.
“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, the picture of regret. “That’s—thanks.”
“I better get back. We’re about to rewatch Tombstone, but Dean expressed a craving for mini marshmallows.”