Work Text:
Cas is not one-year-old when he has his first birthday, he’s a millennium-old. He seems to think this gives him a pass as far as birthdays are concerned, but Dean thinks he deserves a birthday, so he’s getting one.
Despite Dean’s best efforts to dissuade him, Cas chooses January first as his ‘official’ birthday. Who chooses January first? It’s dumb. It’s the middle of winter for a start so pizza deliveries are hella unreliable. Then there’s the risk of not getting presents because it’s so close to Christmas. Not that the second one applies to them much anyway given the haphazard nature of their gift-giving, but that’s what Dean’s heard from others. Truth is Dean’s pretty sure Cas picked January first just to be contrary, and that rankles.
Still, if Cas thinks that by picking January first Dean will either be so hung over he forgets, or that in some massive sulk about the disagreement over the date Dean will simply ignore the fact that it is now, officially, Cas’s birthday, Cas doesn’t know Dean as well as he thinks he does. What’s more, if Cas thinks that finding something that miraculously (literally, apparently) requires his attention away from the bunker on January first will help avoid any kind of acknowledgement of said birthday then he’s just being deliberately obtuse because Cas is going to have a birthday whether he wants one or not, and Dean hid his gift in his duffel before he left.
Of course, Cas could choose to ignore his birthday all on his own, irrespective of what Dean does, which is what seems to be happening. Dean looks at his watch. 10am and no acknowledgement from Cas about his gift. It probably doesn’t mean anything yet. Dean takes another sip of coffee, then pushes it away. It’s his third cup and it’s making him more anxious, not less.
The thing is, Dean did put a lot of thought and effort into this particular gift for Cas’s first birthday. It’s not an effort he’s likely to be able to put in every year. Even if Sam and Dean try to acknowledge their birthdays every year - even if it’s only a phone call, or getting pizza delivered, maybe drink better beer than on the other 364 days of the year - they can’t always do something. It’s a kind of crappy routine that goes along with the kind of crap they have in their life, yet crappy routine that it is, Dean wants Cas to feel a part of that.
Dean’s heart aches for Cas at the moment. Cas thinks he doesn’t belong anywhere, not even with them. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Dean insists that he does belong with them, that the bunker is his home as well, Cas doesn’t seem to trust what comes out of Dean’s mouth. Or Sam’s for that matter. The birthday thing was going to try and say it another way. If Cas completely blanks it, Dean’s going to be pissed… actually, no, not pissed. Upset. Let’s call it like it is.
At 10:15am, Dean gives in and sends Cas a text. ‘Happy Birthday. Did you like your gift?’
He doesn’t get a reply straight away which leads to pacing and a fourth cup of coffee. Then his phone pings.
Castiel: ‘I haven’t opened it yet. I wasn’t sure of the correct etiquette.’
Seriously? He hasn’t opened it yet? Dean starts typing a reply and his phone pings again.
Castiel: ‘Also, thank you for getting me a gift. It wasn’t necessary.’
Dean’s half way through his reply when his phone pings.
Castiel: ‘And please thank Sam too.’
Dean discards his unsent messages and sends instead, ‘What did Sam get you?’ Damn, but Dean loves his brother for jumping on this particular bandwagon.
Ping.
Castiel: ‘I don’t know, I haven’t opened it.’
Of course he hasn’t.
‘Open mine first’
There’s a fricking long pause before the next ping during which Dean does a lot of pacing. When Sam pokes his head in to ask if he’s heard anything from Cas this morning, he merely points at his phone with a curse nod.
Sam comes fully into the kitchen and grabs some muesli and milk before sitting down at the table.
“Isn’t it a bit late for breakfast?” Dean grumbles.
Sam chews. “Jogging,” he mumbles through a mouthful of oats.
Ping. Dean snatches his phone from the table.
Castiel: ‘Now?’
Now? Now? What does that mean? What has Cas been doing for the past ten minutes?
“’s’that Cas?” Sam asks. Half-chewed oats splutter on to the table. Dean gives Sam a disgusted look and calls Cas.
“Dude, what were you doing? I thought you were opening the presents.” Dean’s gift would not take a full ten minutes to unwrap from its plain brown paper bag so the chances were high that Cas was multi-tasking. Or more likely, doing something completely unrelated to birthdays, blissfully unaware that Dean’s fricking dying here.
“I am actually busy Dean,” Cas says, with added snark.
“Doing what?” Dean demands.
“I’m on a case, remember?”
Growling unhappily in his throat, Dean scratches at something that’s stuck to the edge of the table. What is that? He decides he doesn’t really want to know. “I’ve got to admit I thought that was just an excuse not to be here on your birthday.”
There’s a telling silence from the other end of the phone.
Dean huffs. “Just open your gifts.”
“I am actually on a case,” Cas says. “Just so you know I’m not lying.”
“But it could have waited?”
Cas sighs. “Probably. Undoubtedly, in fact. I’m sorry. This seems to mean a lot to you.”
“Forget it. Just open the presents.” Dean hopes it isn’t a huge anti-climax after this build-up.
There’s rustling at the other end of the phone. “I’m going to open your gift…I’m putting you on speaker.” For heaven’s sake. Dean slides a palm over his face. Another rustle. “I’m opening your gift now.” More rustling, this time loud and of the brown paper bag variety, until eventually, “Dean,” Cas breathes.
“Put him on speaker,” Sam says, getting up to pour himself a coffee. He waves the plunger at Dean but Dean shakes his head at both the coffee and the speaker for now. Dean feels suddenly incredibly embarrassed.
“So, do you like it?” Dean asks.
“I do,” Cas says.
“I made it,” Dean admits. Sam sits down with his coffee and gives Dean a thumbs up, then a thumbs down and raises an eyebrow. Dean returns a thumbs up and Sam looks pleased and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Made it, as in … you mean you… ?”
Dean chuckles. Dean had knitted Cas a chunky purplish wool hat with a loose excuse for a pom-pom on top.
“Knitted it, yeah. From scratch, following a recipe or pattern or whatever that Sam found me online. It was easy really I guess. I couldn’t have done it if it wasn’t, but it took ages, you know? And I had callouses in places I never had callouses before and –“
“Dean - ”
“- I thought it was a stupid, dumbass idea a lot of times because you don’t even want a birthday but it was important to me that – “
“Dean - ”
“- you understood that you’re important to me, well to us, you know and – “
“Dean, shut up,” Cas says insistently.
Dean shuts up. Well, he will in a minute. “Happy birthday, buddy.”
Sam is chuckling to himself under his breath, and yeah, maybe Dean did get a bit carried away there.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. He sounds… awed, happy, surprised and genuinely thankful. Dean really wishes he could see his face. He turns his head away from Sam and surreptitiously wipes away a bit of dust that got in his eye. What? It was totally a bit of dust, he is not crying.
“Open Sam’s gift,” Dean says because he needs a distraction. “Sam’s here. I’m going to put you on speaker.”
More rustling. “Well? What’d Sam get you?”
“I believe you’re both overly concerned that I might get cold. I can assure you that I can strictly control my body temperature.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, what’d he get you?”
“Sam’s gift is a scarf. But bought, not made like yours,” Cas is quick to assure Dean.
“No sissy knitting for me,” Sam teases. Dean sticks his tongue out at him.
“Thank you, Sam, thank you both,” Cas says. “I’m putting them on now.”
“Do they match?” Dean asks Cas. There’s a very, very long pause. “What are you doing?”
“I’m checking in the mirror,” Cas says, then adds, “No, I don’t believe they match in any normally accepted meaning of the word.”
Sam mouths at him, “They definitely don’t match. I made sure of it.” Dean chuckles.
“Yeah, well, I look forward to seeing you in them.”
“Hang on,” Cas says amidst more rustling. “I’ll send you a picture.”
Ping.
Dean opens the picture and grins. Dean’s hat is firmly planted on Cas’s head pretty much covering all his hair, except the little curly sideburns, and the tops of his ears. Sam’s scarf is wrapped around his neck so many times it’s almost as wide as his shoulders. They definitely don’t match. But most importantly of all, Cas is smiling. He looks quietly pleased.
Dean forwards the photo to Sam then saves the photo as the background on his phone.
“Looks good on you, buddy,” he says. “So…when will you be home?”
“I actually thought I might change my plans and head back now,” Cas says quietly. “If that's okay, I could be at the bunker… I could be home,” he corrects, and Dean smiles, “by this evening. I could stop on the way and get pizza, perhaps?”
“Sounds perfect,” Dean says. “Sounds perfect.”