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THUMP!
“Ow—son of a bitch! ”
Castiel whips his head up from where it’s buried in his book to find the source of the sound. His brow furrows, marking his place with his bee-themed bookmark before putting it down on the coffee table. The fire crackles, dimming embers coughing out their last signs of life before shrinking into bits of charcoal. In his warm slippers, Cas shuffles to the window, squinting at the bright snow, nearly untouched.
He can feel the chill blowing in from the window, his nose taking the brunt of it. Winter is his least favourite season, but he appreciates the beauty of it. From the snow-covered pine and evergreen, to the holiday lights and decorations lining the streets of their neighbourhood, he sees the appeal. However, once the holiday cheer winds down, come January, the rest of the season is absolutely miserable.
Not hearing any more signs of life from the outdoors, Castiel goes to investigate, taking his robe from where it’s been draped over the couch and sliding his body into the plush comfort. Another thing he can appreciate about winter—warm and fuzzy fabrics. The doorknob is cold where he touches it, but he bites the bullet and jiggles it open, not taking kindly to the layer of ice around the frame.
A ladder lays haphazard on the sidewalk, and a person-shaped hole in the snow lies beside it. Last night boasted at least two more feet of snow, much to the delight of the neighbourhood children who’ve found something new to occupy themselves for their winter break, screeching at thrown snowballs and making bastardized versions of angels. It’s amusing, but the noise makes Castiel’s hopes of peace and quiet futile—at least until it turns dark.
When he sees no movement in the hole, he wraps his robe tighter around himself, taking a brave step out into the cold to investigate.
“Dean?” he calls out. “Are you alright?”
A pained groan rises from the depths, and lo and behold, Castiel’s husband emerges, covered in snow that falls off his puffer jacket. He looks unfairly adorable, hair now wet and ruffled like a hedgehog.
“‘M fine,” he waves with his gloved hand. “The ladder slipped and I fell.”
“I can see that,” Cas observes, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing with the ladder? I thought you were shoveling the walkway.”
Dean just stares incredulously at Castiel and wildly gestures to the pavement. “Unless you suddenly went colourblind, I did that already. Then I realized that I still had enough daylight to work with so I thought, ‘Christmas lights!’”
“Dean, we don’t have Christmas lights.”
“I know,” he huffs, crossing his arms with a slight pout. It’s a little difficult to take him seriously when the jacket swishes noisily with every move. “I went out and got some.”
Castiel’s winter-hating heart melts. He tilts his head and gives a fond smile to his husband, who blushes even redder than his pink-tinged nose and ears. “That’s very sweet of you, Dean,” he says, softening his voice. “Are you hurt? Can I help?”
He’s been very discreet about his angel powers since he and Dean moved into the respectable neighbourhood they’ve now learned to call home. For every bruise and cut Dean gets, Castiel will kiss it better, his grace gently flowing from his lips to Dean’s skin.
“Nah,” says Dean, flicking his eyes around to make sure no one hears as he pushes himself off the ground. “The bushes took the brunt of my fall. Nothing but a bruised ego.”
Like before, Cas whips his head to check, and yep— the bushes he planted in the spring sport a large divot and broken branches. It’s only by Dean’s possible injuries that he forgives him. He’s going to have to fix them later. In the spring. When it’s warm.
Thanking what very little patience he has left, he sighs. “At least let me kiss it better.”
Dean scoffs, bending down to brush snow off his knees. “Ain’t no way in hell you’re gonna give a new meaning to kissing ass in front of our respectable neighbours.” With that, he shakes his backside for extra emphasis.
He ignores his husband’s snark. “Is that where it hurts? I can squeeze it better if you like.”
It’s almost comical, the way Castiel has begun to adopt Dean’s mannerisms of inappropriate comments. If he’s doing so to get the chance to paw at Dean’s ass, that’s no one’s business but his own.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Just kiss me on the mouth, asshole.”
“Then come here,” he whines, just a little, reluctant to leave the warm air from inside.
“Okay, princess,” Dean amends with a smirk, none-too-gracefully stepping out of the snow bank, his bow legs still shaking from the fall. It almost (almost) makes Castiel run up and take him in his arms.
Dean joins him at the threshold, bending slightly at the waist to meet Cas in a gentle kiss, grace seeping in where their lips meet. Just for good measure, Cas grabs a handful of Dean’s butt and squeezes, revelling in the feeling of Dean laughing into his mouth.
“Go back inside,” Dean whispers, placing his cold glove on Castiel’s cheek, the thumb lightly brushing his skin. “You can see them when I’m all done.”
Frowning, Castiel gives him one more kiss. “I’ll have a hot chocolate ready for you.”
Dean’s eyes light up. “Ooh, with Bailey’s?”
“We’ll see. Be safe.”
—
True to his word, Dean finishes the lights that day, but the sun has well and truly set, darkness giving way to the abundance of lights all competing for their shot as the brightest in the night sky.
It was the Pagans, Castiel remembers, that lit candles in their windows to remind themselves of the longer days to come. A tradition passed on from generations, changed and re-done and modernized to somewhat of an overcompensating display of attention. A blinding tarmac for the new and improved St. Nicholas of Myra to shove himself down a chimney with an abundance of gifts to share.
Dean once told him of a hunt he and Sam took during Christmas - Pagan gods starving for sacrifices, tricking unsuspecting homes with meadowsweet only to devour them in a single night, all while playing the part of a charming elderly couple. Dean called them Mr. and Mrs. Claus on crack, but Castiel can appreciate a good human disguise, even if used for homicidal purposes.
It’s told as a funny story, but Castiel knows that he and Sam were truly terrified at the time. However, it made way for a pretty memorable Christmas, even if Dean ended up in hell a few months later.
It’s nice to reflect on how far they’ve come. This past year has been nothing but new beginnings for them all. He and Dean had made the decision to retire officially from hunting and the supernatural world, making a home for themselves like they’ve always deserved. Sam and Eileen man the bunker like the most well-oiled machine. And Jack… well, he pops in sometimes. He’s happy, and that’s all Cas cares about.
Cas hears Dean kicking the snow off his boots, wiping them on the doormat for good measure. Upon entry, Dean’s face is tinged pink from the cold, his breath coming out in puffs of white air. He sniffs, his body getting used to the onslaught of warmth from inside.
“All done,” he pants, ripping off his gloves. Cas takes them dutifully in his hands as Dean shrugs off his jacket to put in their closet. “Wanna come see them?”
Castiel hums in agreement, turning around to throw the gloves on the stairs; he’ll pick them up later to put them in the hamper. “I believe I promised you hot chocolate first.” Before Dean can open his mouth, he continues. “Yes, there’s Bailey’s.”
“I love you,” mumbles Dean, lips pressed against Cas’ cheek. His arms wrap around his middle like an octopus, his body a welcome comfort against Castiel’s back. Castiel joins his hand over Dean’s, rubbing over the silver ring with his thumb. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“I know,” Castiel rumbles in reply. “What do you want for dinner?”
“We have that leftover soup,” Dean suggests, tilting his head to kiss along Cas’ jaw. “It’s in the freezer now if you want to defrost it.”
“Good idea.”
Between mouthfuls of hot soup (heated quickly by Castiel’s grace) and sticky hot-chocolate kisses, they end up continuing their ongoing conversation about their holiday plans. Sam and Eileen are planning on a New Year’s potluck in the bunker for the hunter network, but it’s Dean and Castiel who will be hosting Christmas for their little family in their home. Hopefully Jack will be able to join.
It’s only when Dean starts yawning through his words that Castiel remembers he was promised a Christmas light display.
“My love, you wanted to show me the lights?” he asks gently, rubbing a hand over Dean’s shoulders.
Dean’s eyes perk up immediately, and he sits up quickly, grabbing Cas’ hand and pulling him to the door. With an almost feral quickness, Dean throws a coat at Castiel and frantically gestures for him to put on his shoes. Castiel complies with nothing but utmost fondness, bracing himself mentally for the outside chill. Despite his grace making him able to withstand any weather, Cas lets it subside that little bit so he can complain to Dean later and put his frozen toes against his husband’s skin.
Dean runs out of the door, bounding eagerly down the front stairs. As he waits for Cas, he bounces on his feet, and suddenly, he’s like an excited child, waiting for someone to be proud of him. It fills Castiel’s heart with so much love that Dean trusts him enough to show him glimpses of his inner self. When Cas inevitably joins him, Dean grabs his hand and puts it into his coat pocket, linking their fingers together.
“Ta-da!” he shouts, shaking his other hand out.
It’s truly a sight. Dean managed to line the whole roof with twinkling lights in all different colours of blue and red and green and yellow. Even the railings have received the same treatment, wrapped around the wood with fake pine branches.
“It’s beautiful, Dean,” he exclaims, leaning into his husband just a bit more. “Thank you for doing this.”
To make this moment even more magical, a light dusting of snow begins to fall softly in the air. The only indication of its existence being the snowflakes reflecting off the lights.
“It’s snowing in the dark, Cas,” Dean whispers, his voice full of awe. “I wonder how much more we’ll get in the morning.”
Back to his disdain for winter, Cas subtly starts pulling Dean back towards the house. “I don’t want to stay and find out. We’re staying inside all day tomorrow.”
Dean laughs like Christmas bells, and maybe it will make up for being snowed in all day with him. Castiel is looking forward to it. He’s looking forward to sparking up the fireplace again, to curl up with a good book, to solidify their Christmas dinner menu, and to kiss Dean as much as he wants.
They’ve got time, after all. All the time in the world.