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Drizzly December mornings are the best time to try out new gingerbread recipes. That’s just a fact. Dean pulls the latest batch out of the oven for a knife test to see if they’re ready. Satisfied, he puts the cookie sheets on the counter. He turns down the soft rock playing from the bluetooth speaker next to the stove so he can make notes on the printed recipe he’d been working from.
“Tried…more nutmeg, less…cinnamon,” he dictates as he writes. “Smell good so far.”
When the cookies are cooled off enough, he tries one. Yup. That was a lot of nutmeg. They definitely smell better than they taste. Maybe Cas will like them, though. He sticks his head through the kitchen doorway to look for his husband. “Cas?”
“In the nook, dear.”
Dean steps into the dining room. Cas sits in a powder blue knit sweater, clutching his tea-filled mug. He’s nestled in the newly-painted breakfast nook that Dean had added to their house, specifically for this purpose (and to cuddle). The window behind Cas highlights his ruffled hair. He is covered in multiple blankets: a crocheted purple and blue one (a gift from one of their new neighbors), a gaudy gag gift to Cas from Eileen that has something about the power of the bond between brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law stitched on it, and a few plain gray or tan ones Cas had bought from Pottery Barn (“It’d be silly not to use all the coupons, Dean.”).
Dean leans against the doorway, appreciating the view. “I love you like this.”
Cas smiles up at his husband. “Like what?”
“Y’know,” Dean shrugs, gesturing in Cas’ general direction. “Warm. Comfy. You look cute.”
Cas looks down at himself and his sweater. He sets the mug on the windowsill and opens his arms towards Dean. “Would you like to share in the warmth?”
Dean automatically steps towards him but stops, remembering what he was just doing. He holds a hand up to Cas and says, “Hold that thought.”
Cas pouts a little but Dean returns quickly, freshly baked gingerbread cookies on a plate in his hands. Cas lifts the blankets up for him and Dean tucks himself into the space. He wiggles a little to adjust the throw pillows at his back as Cas shifts closer. Once they’re settled, Dean offers the plate to Cas.
“Thank you,” Cas says, taking a cookie and kissing Dean on the cheek. Dean lets out a huge contented sigh.
“You’re welcome.” He watches as Cas takes a bite, catching the blink-and-miss-it grimace. Not letting on that he saw, Dean asks, “So?”
“Mmh, these are…great,” Cas very obviously lies.
“This is an experimental batch, Cas. Don’t lie to me.”
“Ease up on the nutmeg.”
“Yeah I thought so. There we go.” He eats another one himself in solidarity. “Dammit, I thought I had it this time.”
“They’re almost there,” Cas says encouragingly.
Dean places the plate on the windowsill to the side. He gives Cas’ mug back to him and rests his head on Cas’ shoulder.
He nuzzles his cheek into the sweater. “Thing’s soft, too.”
“I know. That’s part of why I chose it.”
“And?”
“You once said blue is my color.”
“Yup. Brings out your eyes.”
They sit there for a while as Cas finishes his tea. Just enjoying each others’ warmth and presence. The room is cast in a soft gray light. Shadows are muted and everything looks…soft. Dean feels like he’s overused the word but that’s the best word for it. Soft. Slowly, incrementally, as if the sun had come out behind them, Dean feels even more warmth envelop him. Cas always runs a bit hot (sometimes in direct contrast to Dean’s need to be under the covers when they sleep) but even more now. As if, without moving, Cas is hugging him close. Maybe he is, with his wings. It’s hard for Dean to tell. Not that he really cares, though. It’s so comforting Dean feels himself start to fall asleep.
“You’re so warm,” he says. He feels Cas kiss the top of his head. He thinks he hears Cas say ‘I love you’ before he completely nods off.