Work Text:
Dean slumps against the door as he opens it, letting his weight push it to the wall. He kicks it closed with his foot, running a hand over his face and hair to knock off the flurries of snow that clung to his body.
“Ugh,” he groans, dropping his bag. He unwraps his scarf with frozen fingers, unzipping his jacket to let the heat from the studio apartment warm him up. “This is bullshit.”
“What is?” Cas asks, voice coming from their bathroom.
Dean shuffles over to the small kitchen, setting his scarf and jacket on the back of one of the chairs at the table, then sits in it. “Adler,” he snorts. “Pissbag’s purposefully trying to get us all to fail.”
“Mm.”
“I’m serious,” Dean insists, and dammit, he’s not pouting. “I think he’s got a vendetta against all of us saps who are actually passing with something more than a D, and those of us with As? Pfft.”
He slumps over, burying his face in his arms. “I’m gonna die, Cas.”
“That’s too bad, Dean,” Cas says sympathetically, voice getting louder, and Dean can hear him moving down the short hallway. Dean lifts his face to turn the biggest, most pathetic puppy eyes he can manage on his boyfriend – they’re not as good as Sam’s, or even Cas’ own, but Dean knows Cas is weak to pretty much any pleading expression he has – and then he freezes as Cas comes into the kitchen.
It’s hideous. The chest is black, the arms white with green stripes (or are they green with white stripes?), and the hems are red. Front and center is what Dean thinks is supposed to be a Christmas tree, but it looks made out of… are those mustaches?
Dean blinks. “What the fuck is that?”
Cas looks down at his sweater, tugging at the hem with a content smile on his face when he looks back up. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s a Christmas sweater, Dean,” he says pleasantly, like it’s obvious.
Dean makes a face like he just stepped in dog shit. “Cas. Baby.” He trails off, unsure what there is to say.
Cas just gives him a Look, moving into the kitchen and over to the corkboard they keep beside the fridge. It’s covered in pictures of Dean and Cas, some from high school, some more recent, and some of just one or the other of them. Dean’s favorite is the one where he and Cas had been messing around in the kitchen one morning and Dean had caught Cas pouring milk over his face.
Cas pulls a tack out from the board, situating another picture – no doubt from his photography class – into the collage before pinning it in place. Dean opens his mouth, but Cas cuts him off without even looking.
“No, I’m not taking it off, Dean,” he says, anticipating Dean’s complaints. “Yes, I have more to wear, and you will be seeing them. I don’t want to hear it.” Cas steps back from the board, and it’s actually another picture of Dean, taken when they were out at the park the weekend before.
Dean bites his lip, withholding his retort. He bends to Cas’ will too easily, he thinks to himself.
When they curl up on the couch later that night to watch movies on Netflix, Dean has to admit it’s actually really soft, and, well. It smells like Cas, so Dean figures he can’t be blamed for nuzzling into it.
It’s still hideous, though.
“C’mon, Cas!” Dean calls, checking his phone again. “We’re gonna be late!”
“Two minutes!”
Dean rolls his eyes, letting out a petulant whine. “We have reservations, Cas!”
“I said two minutes!”
“We don’t have two minutes!” he shouts back, exasperated. He told Cas to be ready when he got out of classes today. They’ve had the reservations for two weeks now; Ellen’s gets packed around the holidays, and even being her nephew doesn’t guarantee Dean a table at the Roadhouse Bar and Grille. There’s only a ten-minute grace period if you’re not there right at whatever time your reservation is at.
Dean looks at his phone again. It’s six-fifty-two, and their reservation is at seven-fifteen. It takes nearly twenty minutes to get to the Roadhouse from the college campus.
They’ll be pushing it. If Cas gets his ass out the door now.
“Cas!” Dean yells, ready to rip his boyfriend a new one about punctuality, but a thump cuts him off.
“Alright!” Cas calls, and Dean watches as Cas jogs down the short hallway to the front, running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it. Dean looks him over, and then groans.
“Really, Cas?” he asks, taking Cas’ coat off the rack and holding it open for his boyfriend to slide his arms into. “We’re going out to dinner.”
This time the sweater is all black, but it’s covered in candy cane patches, each with its own sprig of holly. It’s not as bad as the Mustache Christmas Tree, but it’s not exactly much better, either.
Cas turns around, adjusting the collar of his coat and grinning at Dean. His blue eyes sparkle behind his glasses. “It’s Ellen’s, Dean,” he laughs, reaching to grab his cashmere bee scarf, still in perfect condition even eight years later. “She’d be disappointed if I didn’t wear one. She’ll be disappointed that you—”
“No,” Dean interrupts, shrugging into his own jacket and grabbing his keys. “I don’t care what you do – well, okay, that’s a lie, but I can’t stop you – but I am not wearing an Ugly Christmas Sweater, TM. Just. No.”
Cas pouts as they head out into the chilly, early December evening air, burying his nose in his scarf as he takes Dean’s offered arm. “You’re no fun, Dean Winchester.”
“Tough shit,” Dean says, bumping his shoulder against Cas’ before letting him go to climb into the Impala.
The streetlights are wrapped with garland and bows, and storefronts are decorated in Christmas lights and ornaments, cheerful holiday music pouring from coffee shops and florists and convenience stores alike. The Roadhouse is the same, strung in lights and fake icicles and garland. Dean parks in his usual space two minutes before their reservation time, miraculously free despite the nearly full lot.
The warm air inside the Roadhouse pulls a content sigh out of Dean, and he inhales the aromas – burgers and pastas and pie. He smiles at Jo who’s at the hostess’ station.
She smirks at them as they approach. “Almost thought you weren’t gonna make it, Winchester,” she teases, turning to lead them to their table. She doesn’t grab menus.
Dean snorts, wrapping an arm around Cas’ shoulders as they follow her. “Yeah, well, this dork here had to do his makeup first, so we cut it a little close.” Cas elbows him in the side, and Dean winces. He presses an apologetic kiss to Cas’ temple.
They’re seated at their usual table, and Ash brings over two beers. He takes a moment to look at Cas’ sweater, then grins.
“Nice,” he drawls. “I have one too, but I’m not allowed to wear it at work.” He sounds put out about it.
Cas laughs. “Are you going to wear it to Charlie’s Christmas party next weekend?”
“Sure am!” Ash grins. “You two gonna go in matching sweaters?”
“Pfft, nah,” Dean snorts, as Cas shakes his head sadly.
“Dean doesn’t want to uphold the tradition,” Cas says with a shrug.
Ash gives Dean a disapproving look, shaking his head. “Shame on you, Dean. Such a Scrooge.” They chuckle, Dean shrugging in a yeah, whatever manner, and then Ash is smiling at them again. “So. The usual?”
“Yup,” Dean says, Cas nodding along.
Ash nods. “I’ll get those orders in, then!” And he’s gone.
When they’ve finished their meals and are leaving, Cas stops outside, right next to the large tree Ellen and Jo put up every year next to the entrance. It’s decorated in large ornaments and baubles, tinsel, and colorful lights. It had started lightly snowing while they were eating, so the ground and the branches of the tree are covered in a light dusting of fresh, powdery snow.
“Take a picture with me?” Cas asks, and Dean smiles.
They stand in front of the tree and lean their heads together. Cas holds his phone up, front camera on, and Dean turns to press a kiss to Cas’ cheek as the sound of a shutter clicking comes from the phone. Cas turns to kiss him properly after he gets his picture, and Dean brings a hand up to tangle in Cas’ hair as he licks along Cas’ lip, pulling it between his teeth, and pulling a moan out of his boyfriend.
He pulls back, breathing heavily, and bumps their noses together as Cas blinks dazedly. “Come on,” he laughs, hand taking Cas’. “Let’s go home.”
Dean gasps as his back hits the door to their bedroom, and he tilts his head to expose his neck as Cas trails kisses and bites over his skin. His breathing is erratic, heart pounding as he drags Cas’ mouth back up to his, licking into it and sucking on Cas’ tongue, hands dragging over Cas’ arms and chest and pushing up under his shirt.
Cas whines as Dean’s fingers brush against his nipples, and he rolls his hips against Dean’s thigh between his legs, grinding his erection against Dean’s for friction. He attacks Dean’s mouth again with deeper, harder kisses, pressing him into the wall with his entire body. Dean whimpers, hands falling to Cas’ ass and pulling him closer, closer, dammit get closer.
Cas breaks their kiss with a chuckle, lingering close so their breaths mingle, and grins at Dean, biting his lip.
“Get undressed and wait for me,” he breathes, words sending a thrill through Dean. “I have a surprise for you.”
Dean is totally on board with that, so while Cas disappears to the bathroom, Dean strips out of his shirt and pants, hissing as he drags his underwear off and his cock bounces free, thick and beginning to drip precome. He tugs on it a couple times, relieving some of the pressure, and falls back onto their bed, scooting to the headboard to sit himself up to wait for Cas. He jerks himself slowly, biting his lip to keep in his moans, and lets his legs fall open.
“Cas,” he moans out, his head falling back. “You ready, baby? Need you, need you so bad.”
Cas’ low, throaty laugh comes from the bathroom, and Dean picks his head up to look at him, intending on begging him to get over here and fuck me already, but the words die in his throat, and his hand ceases its movements as he looks at his boyfriend.
Cas is leaning seductively against the door, one arm stretched above him and the other on his hip above bare, smooth, strong legs. His cock is full and straining against his red silk panties, trimmed in black lace and small bows, and barely contained by the fabric. His lips are red, bitten, and kiss-swollen, and his hair is an absolute debauched mess, his eyes bright and sparkling.
But that’s not why Dean can’t find his ability to speak.
The sweater is an awful neon red, covered in green and blue and red and yellow ornaments, and the words JINGLE MY BELLS are in white block text.
Dean’s mouth flops a couple times, doing an impressive impression of a fish as he stares at his boyfriend.
Cas tilts his head, exposing his neck and giving Dean his bedroom eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a grin. “What do you think, Dean?” he purrs, and despite everything, Dean’s cock gives an interested, enthusiastic twitch in his hand where his grip is slack. “You ready to jingle my bells?”
And that’s it. Dean snorts, then laughs, and then he’s gone. He lets go completely of his cock and brings his hands to his face, his guffaws muffled as he rolls over onto his front and plants his face into their pillows. Cas’ laughter is coming from the bathroom, deep and rich.
“Oh my god, Cas!” Dean gasps, rolling back over to look at his boyfriend nearly doubled over in his own mirth. He holds out his hand, still laughing, tears on his cheeks now, and Cas skips over to the bed to climb on top of him. “You are such a fucking dork!”
Cas, chest shaking with his gasps, leans over him, nose scrunched and lips pulled into a wide smile as he kisses Dean. Dean’s hands settle on his smooth thighs, trailing up and down them as their mouths move together as best they can when both of them are still grinning too hard.
Cas pulls back, sitting up in Dean’s lap and smiling down at him. “You should’ve seen the look on your face,” he says, giggling. “It was priceless.”
Dean rolls his eyes, tugging his boyfriend back down to kiss him again. “I think I am owed a spectacular blowjob for that,” he says as they pull apart. “First: this has to go.” He runs his hands up under the sweater, pushing it up and off Cas, and he throws it with vicious force across the room. They’ll burn it later.
Once the offending article of clothing is away from them, Dean runs his fingers over the top of the panties, smirking up at his boyfriend as Cas rolls his hips again, their half-flagged erections springing back to life.
“These,” he purrs, “can stay.”
“Mm,” Cas hums, leaning over Dean, and their mouths hover inches apart. “I was hoping to get rid of them, too.”
“We can do that, too.”
“Hey, nerds!” Charlie greets them as she opens the door. “Glad you could make it!”
Dean smiles at her, hand on Cas’ shoulder as they walk in single file, then opening his arms to catch Charlie in a hug.
“Hey, Red,” he says, kissing her head. “How’ve you been?”
Charlie grins up at him as she pulls Cas into a tight hug. “Ah, you know. Same ol’ same. Running a kingdom, being an amazing queen, hacking the man, the usual.”
They laugh and head farther into the house, which is filled with the chatter of their friends and Christmas music. It’s warm and inviting, with bright, colorful Christmas lights hanging around and decorations everywhere. Holiday-themed cutouts hang from the ceiling, and Dean sees mistletoe in a few of the doorways; he nudges Cas, pointing to some and grinning with an eyebrow waggle.
Cas rolls his eyes. “Like you need mistletoe to kiss me.”
“True,” Dean agrees, and he pulls Cas in for a brief kiss just because.
They leave their coats, jackets, and scarves in the coatroom, and then Dean and Cas join their friends in the den. Victor and Benny are deep in conversation by the fireplace that’s crackling on one side of the room; Bela is talking to Dorothy on the loveseat; Jody is with Donna and Alex; Jo, Ellen, and Ash are all laughing with Michael and Gabriel, who came in from out of town; Sam is with Jess and Sarah on the couch, and he stands to pull Dean into a hug.
“Hey, jerk!” he smiles, clapping Dean on the back as they pull apart. His eyes widen as he looks Dean over, his smile turning into a smirk, and Dean rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, shut up, bitch,” he grumbles, tugging at the sweater. Cas had pulled it out right before they left, giving Dean the big, wide, sad blue puppy eyes as he timidly asked “Please, Dean?”, and Dean felt his heart ripping out of his chest as he tried to ignore the expression.
It isn’t that bad, he guesses; it’s red, with snowflakes and ornaments and Christmas trees and reindeer, but it could be worse. Cas’ is a red cardigan trimmed in green with snowmen and wreathes and Christmas trees and gingerbread men and presents, and the dork had put on a green bowtie to match. Dean feels less noticeable in comparison.
Looking around, though, the basic red and green and black sweaters everyone else is wearing are practically socially acceptable, and Dean feels his stomach sink, his face heat up. Then he looks over at Cas, who has a wide smile on his face, eyes bright as he sits with Sarah and talks about his classes, and Dean smiles and knows he’s proud to wear an Ugly Christmas Sweater™.
The night progresses with snacks, games, spiked eggnog, and lots and lots of carols. Charlie puts on karaoke and Dean and Benny sing Baby, It’s Cold Outside to the amusement of all. They play Pictionary, and Cas and Sarah totally dominate. Board games go around, and Dean and Cas take over in Monopoly. A few rounds of Bingo are played, and Sam and Victor get into a heated head-to-head bout as they angrily call out “Bingo!”
It's all really nice.
At the end of the night, Charlie gets up, swaying slightly, and grins widely. “So, there was supposed to be an Ugly Christmas Sweater contest, and the winner was gonna get a goodie bag that I put together for them.”
She pauses to burp, and everyone laughs.
“Anyway,” she continues, hand to her chest, “there was gonna be just one winner, but I think we all know our winners for tonight.”
Every head turns to look at Dean and Cas curled together on the loveseat, Dean’s arm around Cas’ shoulders and heads tucked together. Cas giggles, and Dean grins, pressing a kiss to his head.
“I’m actually surprised you’re in an Ugly Christmas Sweater, Dean-o,” Gabriel says from his place sprawled on the floor. “That must’ve been a hell of a blowjob little Cassie gave ya to get you in it.”
“Gabriel,” comes a collective groan from the room, Jody kicking his head with a glare.
Charlie ignores him, stepping over him to bring her goodie bag full of candies and party toys to Dean and Cas, who are now red-faced and trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
“Congrats, guys!” Charlie says with a smile. “Those are some truly awful sweaters.”
“Thanks,” Dean says, and Cas accepts the bag.
Heading home that night, Dean listens to Cas humming to the radio, his head against the window.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” he sings, and Dean reaches over to rest his hand on Cas’, twining their fingers together.
“You have a good time tonight?” Dean asks, eyes sliding to look at his boyfriend before moving back to the road.
“Mm,” Cas hums, squeezing his hand. “I had a lot of fun, Dean. Thank you for—” He gestures to Dean’s torso, indicating his sweater.
“No problem, Cas,” Dean grins. “It’s… not actually that bad.”
Cas laughs, and they fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the way home.
When they walk into the apartment, Cas heads for the kitchen, Dean following. He watches his boyfriend take out the picture he took with his old-timey camera that develops immediately, looking over the corkboard for a moment before pulling a pin out and putting the picture dead center.
It’s both of them, sitting on Charlie’s loveseat, heads together and gazing at each other with such love and adoration that Dean’s heart gives a heavy beat. They look like they’re the only two people in the world, like nothing else matters, and Dean comes up behind Cas to wrap him in his arms.
“Merry Christmas, Cas,” he murmurs in Cas’ ear, nuzzling into his hair.
Cas leans back into him, folding his hands over Dean’s on his waist. They sway together softly, looking at the board that holds the moments of their lives.
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
Dean wouldn’t change a thing.