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Dean knew that, logically, tonight was no different than any other night Castiel had stayed over. How many times had his best friend passed out on Dean’s pull-out couch after a night of too many beers? Hell, what about all the times Cas had stayed over Dean’s house when they were kids? There should be nothing out of the ordinary about spending the night together.
Except this was Christmas Eve. And Charlie had, as usual, blown things way out of proportion.
“He’s staying over for Christmas Eve?”
Charlie squealed into the phone so loudly that Dean had to hold it away from his ear. He had been knee deep in deciding on a menu for his annual Christmas dinner when Charlie called. He nervously moved into his bedroom from the kitchen, fearing that Castiel would overhear. Castiel was sleeping on the couch in the living room after spending the night fighting with airline ticket agents about his canceled trip.
“Calm down, Charles, he’s in the next room. Yeah, the blizzard in Boston has their airport shut down. There’s no way he’d be able to make it to the Novak party, and I felt bad leaving the guy to celebrate alone. Plus my place is closer to the airport, so it was easier for him to just crash here.”
“All I’m hearing are excuses. You invited Castiel over for Christmas! And you two have a whole evening together before the guests show up. Alone. With snow gently falling outside as the house smells like fresh baked cookies …”
“Charlie, you have officially watched one too many Hallmark movies.”
Dean could hear the eyeroll in Charlie’s voice as she answered. “All I’m saying is, this would be a spectacular time to tell him how you really feel.”
Dean scoffed as he sat down on his bed. “Yeah, I should definitely tell the guy how I feel when he’s trapped with me and doesn’t have a way to escape. This isn’t Beauty and the freaking Beast.”
“Dean, the man has a working car that is literally parked right outside your door. He’s a big boy, and if he really needs to leave he will.”
He sighed. In his wildest fantasies, telling Castiel exactly how he feels played out differently. He’d invite Cas over for dinner like he had so many times before. But this time, he’d go all out, make all of Castiel’s favorites, charm his pants off. Then by the end of the night, armed with liquid courage, Dean would take Castiel’s hand, stare deep into his eyes, and … hope against all hope that Cas could figure it out without him having to say it, because lord knows Dean Winchester didn’t have a way with words.
How do you tell your best friend from diapers that actually, you like them , like them? Castiel was the most important person in Dean’s life, apart from Sam. Dean would rather stay silent forever than risk losing Castiel entirely.
Charlie spoke, waking Dean from his daydream. “Hey, Dean, I know exactly what your insecure little brain is thinking right now. Knock it off! Make him a romantic meal tonight, the whole candles and wine routine always works well for you.” She sighed. “There is no way he doesn’t feel the same way. Everyone sees how you two look at each other, it’s sickening.”
Dean could hear Castiel stirring in the living room. Ignoring her last remark, Dean opened the door. “Gotta go, Charles,” he said as Castiel stumbled into the kitchen.
The poor guy was exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed from a lack of sleep. “Good morning, Dean. I’m sorry to have put you out like this. Thanks for letting me crash your Christmas Eve.”
Dean waved him off as he poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, adding two creams and one scoop of sugar the way Castiel liked it. “Not a problem, Cas. No way I was gonna let you sit at the airport waiting for another flight.”
Handing Castiel the coffee, Dean moved to preheat the oven as Castiel sipped, making wonderful noises of appreciation Dean did his best to ignore. He returned to focusing on the menu as they fell into a comfortable silence.
Ever since he’d extended the offer to Castiel, Dean found himself stressing out over what he planned to cook. Typically a Winchester Christmas was just Sam and his wife Jess, his adopted father Bobby, his “aunt” Ellen, and her daughter Jo. It was always easy to impress them, and Dean loved giving them the perfect holiday meal. But with Castiel there, all bets were off. He would now be cooking for the family tomorrow and a dinner for two for Christmas Eve, and the pressure to get this moment right felt heavy on Dean’s shoulders.
Dean knew that if Castiel was going to respond favorably to Dean’s declaration it wasn’t going to be because of one meal. But cooking and baking had always been Dean’s way of showing he cared. He snuck random batches of cookies into Castiel’s apartment while Castiel worked long hours on his research projects to keep him going. He always packed lunches for Charlie’s LARP adventures, and he’d become known as the man with the best chicken soup recipe in town from the many times he had dropped off a batch for various sick residents. When his buddy Benny had hired Dean to be the head chef at his restaurant, business had doubled based on Dean's reputation alone.
Dean had never been good with words, but pouring his love into his cooking? That, that he could do. So he stressed silently over each dish, questioning whether Cas would prefer his baked Swedish meatballs or his gnocchi with bacon for a Christmas Eve feast. He would worry about the final Christmas dinner menu later.
After some time, Castiel tapped Dean on the shoulder, startling him. “Hey, Dean? You look a little stressed there.” His eyes expressed concern. “Do you need me to help? Go buy some things at the store for you?” He winked. “I’m also an expert dishwasher.”
Dean forced a smile. Maybe it would be a good idea to get Cas out of the apartment for a bit so he could have a breakdown in private. “Actually, I do have a couple last minute errands I’ve been meaning to run.”
Castiel brightened. “Then let me take care of them! I’m already imposing on your prep time by being here, the least I can do is help Mr. MasterChef with his work.”
Dean hastily scrawled a list of the remaining ingredients while Castiel threw on his coat and scarf. Once Cas had left on his mission, saluting Dean as he closed the door, Dean let himself breathe.
Cooking was normally his way of relaxing and getting out of his own head, but today Dean found himself rushing and making uncharacteristic mistakes. Still unsure of what dishes to prepare, he started making all his greatest hits appetizers, just in case Cas was in the mood for something in particular. Soon, the kitchen island was filled with plates of small finger foods and dips, the counter by the sink a mess of used dishes and empty containers. Dean finally decided on the Swedish meatballs with homemade egg noodles for dinner, and he’d just about gotten the meatballs into the oven when Castiel texted that he was on his way back.
Cue panic mode. Dean began assembling his ingredients for the noodles, and it was like he had never made the dish before. He dropped eggs, poured a half gallon of salt into the bowl, and in general acted like he was a five year old rather than an experienced chef. He growled in frustration as he threw the whole batch away, starting fresh with a new set of ingredients.
The intercom beeped, signaling Castiel’s arrival downstairs. Dean’s stomach flipped, and he pressed the button to let him in while distractedly throwing flour in the mixer. As Castiel opened the apartment door, Dean dumped the remainder of the ruined noodles into the trash, hoping Castiel wouldn’t look inside.
But unfortunately for Dean, he’d forgotten one crucial element of his recipe: the wet ingredients. As Castiel set the groceries on the counter next to Dean, leaning in to have a look at the revised menu, Dean casually hit the “mix” button, hoping he looked calm and collected.
In an instant, he and Castiel were covered in a white shower of flour as the mixer whirred. Dean frantically tried turning the damn thing off, which only had the effect of changing the setting to “high.” As Castiel sneezed a flour cloud, Dean managed to stop the madness by unplugging the devil mixer entirely.
Castiel and Dean stared at each other in silence before Dean sank to the floor. He leaned against the cabinets, head in his hands. So much for a perfect dinner.
Dean felt Castiel slide down to sit beside him. “So, I’m definitely not the cooking expert in this friendship, but I do know that usually the flour is supposed to stay inside the bowl. That, and this kitchen looks like a tornado blew through while I was out. What’s up?”
Dean drew a shaky breath. “S’nothing, just feel off, that’s all. I’m fine.”
Castiel placed his hand under Dean’s chin, drawing Dean’s face up so he was looking at Cas. Dean could barely breathe, shocked at the unexpected touch.
“Dean, I know you better than anyone. When you cook, your kitchen is spotless. You are not fine,” Castiel said, and lord y had Dean dreamed of this moment playing out differently.
Dean drew a shaky breath before turning his face away. “I was trying to impress you. Clearly, mission accomplished.”
Castiel’s nose crinkled in confusion, an expression Dean found endlessly endearing. “Trying to impress me? Why? I told you I didn’t want to be a bother, and besides that I’ve eaten at Benny's enough to know what a great chef you are.”
Dean couldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes. “I…” He was in too deep. “Cas, I…I wanted to impress you because I had something I needed to tell you, and I thought all this would help.” He gestured at their messy surroundings.
Castiel’s face relaxed. “Dean…I have something I want to tell you too.”
Dean snapped to attention. “No,” he practically barked, and Castiel raised an eyebrow in amusement. “No, I’m going first, Cas. Otherwise you ain’t hearing it because I can’t do this again.”
Drawing up all of his courage and leaning on the knowledge that Charlie would kick his ass if he wussed out now, Dean took Castiel’s hand. “Cas…I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, I just didn’t know how to say it. You’re my best friend, and I love you.”
Castiel’s eyes widened, and Dean prepared himself for the inevitable rejection. But to Dean’s surprise, Castiel grasped Dean’s face in his hands. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as Castiel kissed him, just as gentle and soft as Dean had always imagined their first kiss to be. Their kiss deepened as Castiel swung his legs over Dean’s and straddled him for better leverage. When they pulled apart, breathless, Castiel’s bright smile made Dean beam in return.
“You know, in all my fantasies about this moment, I never expected you’d taste like flour and look like a ghost,” Castiel fake-pondered as Dean cracked up, hitting Cas on the arm.
The laughter died as soon as Dean processed what Castiel had just admitted. “Wait, Cas, you’ve fantasized about this? As in…you’ve felt like this for a while?!”
Castiel’s shy smile was the confirmation Dean needed. “You – you asshole! You let me go this long thinking you just saw me as a friend?”
Castiel snorted. “Dean, you bought us matching ‘Best Buds’ tee shirts for our friendaversary last year. I thought the signs were pretty clear anything I felt was all in my head.”
Dean frowned at the accusation. “Hey, that was in reference to your garden flowers , genius. There were freakin’ tulips on the shirt and everything.”
The twinkle in Castiel’s eyes let Dean know he was joking. “Well thank goodness Charlie finally talked you into this, I guess.”
Dean grumbled, “Hey, it was my idea. I totally had this planned out. I just needed a little encouragement.”
Castiel’s laugh rang out through the apartment. “I love when you pout.” Castiel stood and pulled Dean to his feet, both taking in the sight of the destroyed kitchen.
“Well, I guess we better start the clean up job,” Dean sighed.
Castiel hummed in agreement. “We should probably start with ourselves. I can feel that flour settling into my nostrils permanently.”
Dean leaned around Castiel, pinning him to the sink as he grabbed a sponge and turned on the faucet. Wetting it under the spout, Dean wiped the layer of flour from Castiel’s face as his eyelids fluttered, giving Dean occasional glimpses of the brilliant blue underneath. The novelty of touching his best friend like this, of Cas allowing Dean to touch him like this, sent a rush of butterflies to Dean’s stomach.
Castiel shook the remaining water out of his hair as Dean released him from his hold, handing Castiel the sponge to return the favor. Fixing his stare on Dean, Cas smirked as he squeezed the full sponge over Dean’s head without warning.
Dean sputtered as Castiel quickly moved out of his reach to the other side of the kitchen island. “Um, rude,” Dean laughed, playfully chasing Castiel around the island before letting Cas catch him.
Pushing Dean so he was forced to sit on the island, Castiel gently but firmly grasped his wrists. Gazing into Dean’s eyes, he growled, “I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” before nuzzling Dean’s neck. Dean allowed his head to loll backwards as Cas brought his left hand up to support Dean’s neck, gently pressing kisses to his jawline.
After one wonderful minute, Dean untangled his hand to hold Castiel’s. “As much as I’d love to keep doing this all afternoon, my family’s going to be here in the morning. And ideally, I’d actually be able to use the kitchen.”
Castiel sighed in disappointment, but released Dean. He grabbed the sponge and a few of the dirty dishes while Dean began wrapping the overkill appetizers. Working together, they soon had the kitchen in working order.
Dean let out an exhausted “Oof,” joining Castiel on the couch for a celebratory beer. They clinked bottles in silent “cheers,” both sipping contentedly. Dean put his arm around Castiel as Cas channel surfed, settling on one of his dorky nature documentaries that Dean pretended to hate (but secretly adored due to Castiel’s sincere love for them).
This was so close to the scene Dean dreamed of when he pictured telling Cas how he felt that it gave him déjà vu. Castiel leaned into Dean, putting his head on Dean’s shoulder and quickly falling asleep.
Dean whispered, “Merry Christmas, Cas.” Moments later he too was asleep, both snoring in rhythm as the clock struck midnight and snow continued to gently fall outside.