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Castiel knows before he even opens his eyes that it has snowed. There is a heavy silence that hangs over the entire world on mornings like this, when a blanket of white has draped itself over everything while they slept, that is unmistakeable. The world still goes on about its business outside, but everything about it is muted, dampened. He’ll have to shovel the driveway before they can go anywhere, a thought that does not excite him in the least. Castiel lays in bed eyes still closed by mind alert, dreading the task at hand and pointedly ignoring the other things on his mind. It might be easier just to fall back asleep. He could pretend he doesn’t know with a surety that there is snow to be managed. Waste the day lazily until he’s roused from his bed by outside forces.
Castiel sighs and opens his eyes, the reflected brightness of the sun through his window confirmation of the heavy dusting they received overnight. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is far too late to still be abed anyway, so he throws back the covers and plants his feet firmly on the floor. His toes curl instinctively, taking in the texture of the thick pile carpet.
“Fists with your toes,” he mutters, his mind harkening back to the movie Dean had outright insisted they watch the night before. Die Hard, apparently, is a holiday classic, and the fact that Castiel had never seen it was a raging travesty. He only has a moment to ponder whether it’s actually a rejuvenating feeling or not before he hears the bathroom door close. His guest is awake, which means Castiel can’t hide in his room any longer.
Castiel has coffee brewing by the time Dean makes his way to the kitchen, dragging a hand through his hair and yawning sleepily as he pads barefoot across the linoleum. He grins wordlessly at Castiel, a gesture Cas returns instinctively. Dean’s smile always brightens his day. Always has.
“So it snowed last night,” Dean informs him. His eyes dart to the coffee maker puttering away behind Castiel on the counter.
“I thought so,” Castiel replies blandly.
“It snowed a lot.” Castiel turns to glance out the kitchen window, which he probably could have done while he was making coffee but apparently his curiosity is dampened along with the sounds of the neighborhood. True to Dean’s word, there’s quite a thick blanket of white draped over the world outside, probably almost a foot in the places where it’s drifted the most heavily. He cringes to think of how long it will take to dig his car out, even with two shovels borne by broad shoulders and strong arms.
“We’d better get shovelling,” Castiel sighs, “Or we’ll never get out of here.”
“Do we have to?” Dean complains, almost a whine. He can be so petulant sometimes, almost childlike, and it’s such a stark contrast to his usual industrious work ethic that it stands out in Castiel’s mind.
“We do if you want to eat anything other than Christmas leftovers for dinner.”
Though he’d tried to force heavily laden plates and full plastic containers of turkey and stuffing and potatoes and vegetables on Sam and Jess when they left last night, Castiel’s fridge is still full to bursting with leftovers. It’s possible he’d overestimated the amount of food necessary to feed four, but the Winchester brothers can put away a considerable amount of food, and being that Dean hasn’t been back to Kansas for Christmas in several years, his frame of reference is perhaps a little shaky. Dean will go home to New York just after New Years’, and hopefully the leftovers will be gone by then.
“I won’t say no to a turkey sandwich or three,” Dean replies, full of sass. “Especially if it means we don’t have to shovel the driveway.”
“They haven’t even plowed the road yet,” Castiel muses. They’re far enough off the main roads that it’ll probably be much later in the day before a plow makes it anywhere near his street, and truth be told, he’d rather not go outside either.
“Then really,” Dean says matter-of-factly, “there’s no point in trying to go anywhere. I’ll make breakfast.”
Castiel relinquishes control of the kitchen to his best friend, the one he’s missed more than he can put into words, the one he’s loved from afar for years, the one he offered his spare bedroom to when Dean decided to come home for Christmas the first time since his parents passed. He’s never spoken a word of it, and he likely never will. It doesn’t matter. Having Dean with him, just for this short holiday visit, is enough. It has to be.
He watches as Dean retrieves eggs and cheese and bacon from the fridge, sings Led Zeppelin songs while he cooks, drinks coffee and dances in front of the stove. He’s full of life in a way that melts Castiel just a little, and it makes him so, so happy to see Dean happy. He doesn’t even feel the broad grin creeping onto his face until Dean comments.
“It’s good to see you so happy, Cas.” The bacon sizzles, but other than that, it’s quiet. Castiel doesn’t know what to say in reply. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you smiling like this.”
Castiel knows that’s because he only smiles like this when he thinks Dean isn’t looking, when he thinks he can hide the reason for his joy. “I’m just glad you’re home for Christmas for a change,” he says, not completely a lie but not the whole truth either. Kansas hasn’t been home for Dean for a long time, and it doesn’t really feel like home to Castiel unless Dean is there.
“I’ve been thinking about moving back,” Dean says. “I’ve been away too long.”
Castiel’s smile doesn’t waver for an instant, but his heart hammers in his chest. “I…” He chokes on the words. He can’t. Not now.
“You what?”
“Never mind,” Castiel brushes him off, heart sinking. Dean can’t know.
“Well if you’re not gonna do it,” Dean mutters, setting his spatula down with a sigh. Castiel’s first indication of what it is comes when he feels the soft press of Dean’s lips on his own. There’s a brief, frozen moment where no one moves, but when Castiel’s brain catches up and he kisses back, it’s sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted and it warms him more than the cup of coffee he’s still somehow holding. Dean’s palm is rough where it cradles his face but Castiel leans into it anyway.
“I ran away,” Dean explains. “Thought you’d find someone better if I was out of the picture. Thought I’d move on, too. If it hasn’t happened by now, it ain’t gonna happen.”
“So come back,” Castiel pleads, his lips curling into a smile against Dean’s mouth. Dean answers him with another kiss.
Outside, the snow continues to fall, but it doesn’t matter. All Castiel needs is this.