Chapter Text
Dean drags himself through the snow-covered front yard. He heaves a sigh of relief when he gets to the porch and stomps the snow off his boots and brushes the snow off his head. Once inside, Dean hangs up his coat on a hook on the back of the door and when a chirp at his feet grabs his attention, he leans down and scoops Fury up. The black cat rubs his blind side on Dean’s scruff, purring.
“Hey, there fuzz butt,” Dean says to the cat. Fury rubs his face on Dean’s chin before hopping down and scampering off into the house. Dean chuckles as he watches the fuzzball go, toeing his boots off. He then heads into the kitchen and pulls out stuff for dinner—chicken and veggies tonight, nothing special—and starts chopping broccoli when the calendar on the wall catches his eye.
Being a witch, Dean doesn’t care too much for the commercialized version of Yule, but who can really say no to presents and lights and good food? To having your family around during the longest times of the year? He sure can’t. He wipes his hands on a towel and pulls out his phone, dialing his mom.
Mary picks up after the second ring. “Hey, honey!”
Dean smiles as he puts her on speaker and gets back to his cutting. “Hey, Mom.”
“What’s up? I didn’t expect to talk to you until dinner on Sunday.”
“Nothin’s up just wanted to see if there’s a plan for Christmas yet.”
She hums. “No solid plan yet. You thinkin’ about hosting this year?”
“Maybe. Gotta run it by Cas though.” He tosses the broccoli into a bowl and starts on carrots.
“Well, just let me know if you don’t want to do the hosting. We can always have it at my place.”
The door opens, admitting Castiel. Dean throws a grin over his shoulder to his best friend slash girlfriend. “You got it, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too.” She hangs up as Cas wanders into the kitchen. “Hey sweetheart,” Dean says, dropping a kiss to Cas’ forehead when she gets close enough.
She wraps her arms around his waist and sighs. “Hello, Dean. How was the bakery today?”
“Fine,” he says as he moves the chopped carrots to the same bowl as the broccoli. “And the bookstore?”
“Great, actually. Claire’s finally getting comfortable with her studies and she feels confident that she’ll be able to ace her finals.”
Dean hums. “I’m glad. She’s a smart cookie.”
“So what were you and Mary talking about?” Cas asks as she gets the big frying pan out and splashes a little oil into it, setting it on the burner.
“Ah. Christmas dinner, actually.”
Cas lights up. “Can we host this year?” She asks, a big gummy grin on her face.
Dean laughs. “I should have known you were going to say that. Yes, Mom already suggested it. I just wanted to run it by you first.”
And Dean really should have known that Cas would be itching to host. She loves Christmas-time and tends to go all-out with decorations. Their house had been voted Best Decorated in the town last year, and Cas is determined to win it again. Dean has to give it to her, though—she knows how to decorate the house and yard without it being overbearing or looking stupid, so he’ll gladly help to make her happy.
Hell, he’ll do anything to make her happy, and he knows it.
“Well,” he says. “Put it on the calendar and we’ll call everyone and make it official.”
Cas’ smile lights up the kitchen better than any Christmas lights could—but he’s not going to tell her that.