Chapter Text
Unexpectedly, the first person to arrive at the house is Jack.
He doesn't knock. Doesn't pre-warn them he's coming. Just appears in the middle of the kitchen while Cas and Dean are in the middle of chopping and roasting veggies.
"Hello." He waves from beside the kitchen island, where Cas and Dean freeze in shock.
"Jesus Christ, Jack." Dean breathes.
Cas doesn't say a word. Just puts down his knife and envelops Jack in the longest hug. Places a kiss on his temple and says,
"You made it."
Jack smiles. "Of course. I said I was coming." He looks at Dean. His smile falters for a moment, "Oh… Hi, De"-
Dean hugs him. Doesn't think. Doesn't second guess. Just follows Cas' lead and pulls him into a bear hug to rival Jody's. ‘Cause he doesn’t hug him enough. Vows to hug Jack every time he sees him from now on.
"Hey, kid." Says Dean. Determinedly not meeting Cas' eyes. "I'm sorry 'bout last time."
Jack hugs back. Squeezes with unselfconscious strength, skinny arms thrown around Dean's broad shoulders.
"It's okay, Dean. I brought you something." He pulls away. Plunges his hand into his pocket and offers its contents to Dean. "Rice crispy treats. For you." He smiles. Dean takes the snacks. His eyes sting a little. All hot.
He sniffs. "Oh. Thanks, man. We, uh. We got something for you, too."
Jack's mouth opens a little and he looks between Cas and Dean hopefully.
"You got me a present?"
Dean laughs. "Sorta, yeah. But we'll show you later. When everyone else has arrived."
Jack tilts his head to the side. So like his dad for a second it actually makes Dean's stomach lurch. He wonders for the thousandth time how he was so unthinkingly cruel to Jack. So blinded by their situation that he didn't see how fuckin' pure he is.
"You got me something from both of you?" He asks.
Cas and Dean share a look. "Uh, yeah, buddy. S'that cool?"
Jack nods. "Yes." And then, turning to look out the window. "I missed you."
Cas' expression softens. Doting. Melted frickin' butter. "We missed you too, Jack. More than you know."
Dean doesn't know what to say. So he clasps Jack on the shoulder and agrees with a rough,
"Yeah. We did. S'been tough without you."
Jack's face twists. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help."
"Nothin' you could've done." Dean reassures him. "You can't be in two places at once. You did the right thing."
Jack sighs. Faces Cas. "It was hard. To do what you told me to."
Cas nods, understanding. "I know. But you were strong, Jack. I'm proud of you."
"Why?" Dean can't help but ask, wary he might be opening a big can of worms. "What'd you tell him?"
Cas smiles sadly at Dean. "I told him he couldn't use his powers to put everything back to normal. That it doesn't work that way. He's like you. Wants to save everyone, regardless of the consequences."
Dean huffs. "Right. S'what got us in this mess to start with." He mutters. Shit. "Not your fault, Jack.” He corrects. “It was my, uh. Bad influence."
Jack shakes his head. "It's not your fault either, Dean. But I - I did what I could to fix it. Helped in ways which wouldn't interrupt the balance."
Dean resists the temptation to roll his eyes. The frickin' balance. He knows, logically, Cas is right. But there will always be a part of him that wishes Jack could just snap his fingers and put it right. Wish world peace into existence. But, as Cas has pointed out during many of Dean’s world-related rants, doing that would alter what it means to be human. It’s not something that can change overnight. It has to be done in increments, so as not to completely rip existence into separate realities. Or something.
Point is, it would be bad.
Cas loops his pinky finger around Dean's. Tugs.
"We're all okay now." He reminds them both. "We're out of danger, and you don't have to remain overseas anymore, Jack."
Jack nods again, his smile a little tight, but Dean doesn't push the issue. Besides, they've got a monster-sized dinner to finish making.
They let Jack help with the cooking until Dean notices he's turned the potatoes blue - "But blue is an amazing colour, Dean. It's so rare in nature. The poison dart frog uses it to deter predators!" - so he sends him off to the living room to watch TV and meet Grace, who's warily emerged from her hiding place on top of the fridge to see what all the fuss is about.
They bond instantly, of course, and Dean can hear Jack wittering away to her, his peppy, guileless voice carrying through the house while Cas whips up a cranberry sauce.
"What'd I do to deserve not one, but two freaks in my life who can talk to cats?" Dean quips.
Cas gives him such a mushy look, and he's torn between flicking cranberry juice on his face and pushing him up against the counter to kiss him senseless. As it is, he ends up doing both, only stopping because the doorbell rings.
The next three to arrive are Claire, Kaia and Jody. Dean considers the peace officially broken, especially when Claire thwacks him on the arm and reduces him to nothing with a withering glare.
"What?!" He challenges.
She points at him. "You know damn well what . I warned you I'd kick your ass for leaving us like you did." She narrows her eyes and gives him a once over. "But you look better. So I guess you're forgiven."
Dean considers it blatant favouritism when she doesn't give Cas the same treatment. Instead, she pushes a parcel into his arms and orders him to go get changed.
Kaia and Jody help Dean with the rest of the food prep while Cas changes upstairs. It doesn’t take long before they’re done, but Dean’s exhausted.
Sweating after hours over the stove, he flops down on the couch beside Jack and Grace, who stretches out across Dean's lap, claws out, scratching into the denim.
He scritches behind her ears. Kaia gasps when she lays eyes on her, and her and Claire immediately descend on the cat, cooing and stroking her thick orange fur.
Jody stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised.
"You got a cat?" She asks, amused.
"Yeah." Dean shrugs. "So what?"
"So," Says Jody, taking in the surroundings. Fresh layers of paint. Books crammed into polished shelves. New rugs and cushions thrown over every available surface. "You're settled."
Dean's skin prickles. He shrugs again. "It's comfortable." He says. "Cas likes it this way."
"Hm. I'm sure he does." Jody winks, and Dean officially crumbles. He gets up. Slaps his knees.
"I'm gonna check on Cas." Goes for the door but Jody stops him with a hand on his chest. Scowls.
"Where's your shirt, Winchester?"
Oh, no. No no no. Not the shirt. "Where's yours, Mills?"
She smirks. Claps his shoulder. "All in good time. Go tell your boyfriend to get his ass down here before your brother arrives."
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."
The fluttery feeling remains as Dean vaults the stairs two at a time.
Settled.
Huh.
If Jody sees it, Sam will. And if by some miracle Sam doesn't, Eileen will. And that means a capital-C Conversation is about to be had.
He's been strategically ignoring the dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of having to face Sam today. Not just about the whole angel barrier thing, but this too. Settling.
'Cause it's not exactly a settling down with the wife and kids (or in Dean’s case, angel-husband and cat) kinda lifestyle they lead, is it?
He's mid-thought when he opens the bedroom door, only to be met with a sight that makes him think he slipped on the stairs and hit his head.
Cas is standing in front of the gilt-framed mirror they thrifted the other day, wearing what Dean can only assume is his belated Christmas present.
It's not a matching 'I Wuv Hugs' monstrosity. No. Instead, in big white letters on a black background, it just says: THICK THIGHS, BLUE EYES.
And, yeah.
'Cause not only has Cas seemingly wrestled himself into this form-fitting shirt which is at least two sizes too small, he's also squeezed himself into a pair of Dean's jeans. The stitches ain't gonna survive. Cas' thighs really are - Dean swallows - thick.
"Jesus fuck." Dean says by way of a compliment.
Cas turns to him with a grimace. "Dean. I think this shirt is a little small."
Dean takes two steps into the room. Mouth dry. "Uh huh."
"And it didn't really go with my slacks, so I borrowed a pair of your jeans. I hope you don't mind."
Dean takes another two steps. Closer. "Nope."
Cas tilts his head. "Dean, are you"-?
He doesn't get another word in. Dean gets his hands on him. His mouth. His. Yeah. He just. Frickin' swallows him up every way he knows how.
There's a thud and a short, "uh!" from Cas as the air is knocked out of him when he hits the wall. He lets Dean kiss him. All messy, open-mouthed, indulgent fuckin'-gimme-now. Cas laughs into Dean's mouth. Sends gorgeous, deep tones rumbling through him. He tastes fucking incredible. Like honey and fresh, clean air and cranberry sauce. His body is solid and hard and perfectly contoured under Dean's hands. He hitches a denim-clad thigh around Dean's waist. Pushes up against him.
"Oh, fuck you." Dean groans into him. "You can't - you. Illegal."
Cas laughs again. And that sound alone makes Dean crazy. It's better than the best song he knows.
Cas grasps hold of Dean's shoulders and manoeuvres him towards the bed. He falls when the back of his knees hit the mattress. Cas straddles him, straining Dean's jeans even tighter around his solid, thick thighs. Blue eyes gazing down at him. His biceps bulge out of the too-short sleeves. Pectorals fully visible under the bold text.
"Behave." He tells Dean with a smirk, making sure to grind his hips down at the same time. "We have company."
"And you. You're." Says Dean, the image of articulate. "Too sexy. Can't go out like that."
"No?" Cas feigns innocence. Glances down at himself.
"No, you whore." Says Dean. "And if you want me to behave, get off my dick."
Cas takes both of Dean's wrists and stretches them above his head, lengthening him out.
"Dean," he chastises, "I don't appreciate your tone. Don't make me punish you for it."
Cas must feel the way his dick reacts to his words. His perfect ass is right on top of the damn thing.
"Try me. Tie me up. Edge me for six hours. I don't care. I can take it." Dean murmurs. Rough with longing. “Want to.”
Cas smirks. "Hm, no. You'd enjoy it too much. But I could find other ways to torture you. Maybe I won't let you come for a week. Like we discussed." He leans in close, "Or maybe I'll"-
The doorbell peels, high and clear, throughout the house.
Fuckin' Sam. Cockblock of the century.
Cas pulls back. Hops off the bed and offers a hand to help Dean up.
Dean brushes himself off. Debates how possible it would be to dunk his head into a sink of cold water before running down the stairs to greet Sam and Eileen.
Cas smiles innocently at him.
"You'd better answer that."
*
Turns out Dean didn't need to worry about dunking his head under cold water, 'cause opening the door to his brother's face has pretty much the same effect.
"Hey, man." Says Sam. A kind of smile/grimace slapped on his face. Clearly Dean's not the only one who's anxious.
Eileen waves from next to him. "Cute place."
Dean invites them in. Hugs them both. Sam is rocking from foot to foot and looking around the freshly painted hallway like he's never seen a house before.
He hands Dean a six pack. "Here. Might wanna put these in the fridge."
Dean takes the beers. Stomach doing something a little funny when he feels the weight of the small, brown bottles in his grip. "Yup. Kitchen's through here."
He leads them in. Is eternally grateful for Claire, Jack and Kaia's exuberance. Lets them yammer on while he shoves the beers into the only space he can find in the over-full fridge and hangs around in the kitchen doorway. Hands in his pockets.
When he finally manages to catch Sam's eye, he points his thumb at the door.
"Take me to my Baby. Need to make sure you didn't butcher her on the ride."
Sam rolls his eyes. Follows Dean out.
Priorities first: Baby is fine. Looks like Sam put some extra work into cleaning her before they left, 'cause she's extra shiny for such a long drive. He opens the driver door and sits inside, inhaling the old, familiar leather smell.
He taps the wheel. Gives Sam a thumbs up through the window.
Sam climbs into the passenger seat.
"You didn't seriously think I'd bring her back in any less than perfect condition, did you?"
Dean shrugs. "I dunno, man. I was expecting the worst."
Sam laughs. "You always do."
"Rich."
Sam snorts. They sit in the quiet for a minute. Sam throws him glances. Opens his mouth to speak before slamming it shut again.
"Sam. Seriously." Dean snaps, patience wearing thin already. "You can stop lookin' at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm about to explode any second or something. I've done my twelve steps, okay? I'm good now."
Sam gives him a pinched look. "Yeah, Dean. I know."
"So, what's the problem?"
Sam stares at the house through the window. Old, weathered bricks. Tall pine trees surrounding the driveway. Forest-covered hills covered in a fine dusting of snow.
"There's no problem. I... I dunno. It's just weird, isn't it?"
"What is?"
Sam looks at him. "That there's no problem. I - I find myself looking for them, Dean. Everywhere. Feels like there's always a cosmic frickin' disaster just around the corner, but..." he lifts his shoulders. "Nothing."
Dean nods slowly. Gazes out at the world. All white and pristine. The hunter in him can’t decide whether this is the quiet before the storm, or if the storm’s already over. Or if there was ever even a storm at all and they just imagined the whole thing, ‘cause everything’s just kinda. Fine.
"Yeah." He agrees. "But we should make the most of it, don't you think? Who knows what's waiting for us out there."
A contemplative silence falls. Heavy with all the shit they haven't said. And then,
"You forgive me... Right, Dean?"
Dean sighs. Closes his eyes for a moment. Baby's wheel smooth and moulded to his palms. "Yeah, Sam. 'Course I forgive you. I know you were - you were tryin' to do the right thing. In your way. I'm not mad. I'm just..." He taps the wheel. Gnaws at his lip. "You remember when you came back from hell? Watched me - livin' a life with Lisa and Ben?"
Sam frowns. "Yeah?"
"Well, after that, I... I always thought that a life like that - y’know, a normal one - couldn't be possible for me. For us. I didn't see a future that wasn't us. In this car. On the road. Forever. And then, last year, when Cas..." he drops his head. Forces himself to breathe. "I just - I didn't see a future at all, man. I couldn’t even try . Hurt too much."
Sam's quiet. Dean can practically hear him choosing his words. Treading the eggshells he's learned the precarious route around over the years. The maze of complicated 'ifs' and 'buts' that lead to nothing but false hope and false promises.
"And... now?" Sam asks carefully.
"Now..." Dean takes his hands off the wheel. Sits back. Faces Sam. "Now I'm worried you're gonna blow your lid 'cause I'm about to tell you I don't wanna hunt anymore."
Sam's mouth drops open a little. He stares at Dean. Blinks.
"You... don't wanna hunt."
Dean waits for the explosion. Or worse, the disappointment. Nods once.
"You." Sam repeats. " You wanna quit hunting."
"Am I speakin' in tongues? Yes, Sam. I want out. I've had enough. For real this time. And that's not to say I won't help, okay? I know you still got your outpost project goin' on and I promised to help with that and I will, but"-
Sam begins to laugh. Just - bursts with it. Flops forward, mop falling into his eyes, and clutches his hand to his heart.
"What's funny?" Dean demands, throwing his hands in the air 'cause he's spent a good few hours mulling over that speech. Wasn't planning on getting interrupted like this .
Sam reaches out and clasps Dean's shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief. Huge, stupid grin on his face.
"I spent the whole journey up here practicing what I was gonna say." He says. "I've been working up to convincing you to stop hunting for months, man. Ever since Eileen and I first noticed you were acting different. No, since before then. Since before Cas and Eileen came back. And I - shit." He laughs again. Looks back at the house. "I really thought we were gonna fight over it. Thought we were gonna have a huge bust up, because I was convinced you’d see me asking you to stop hunting as, like, sacrilege of the highest order."
Dean exhales. Scowls. "Okay, but why the fuck did you think I should stop hunting? My hunts were goin' great until the whole bond shit."
Sam's eyebrows take a hike up to his hairline. "You're kidding, right? It was killing you, man. You've been using hunting as a stick to beat yourself with since we were kids. And I'm not saying hunting isn't necessary anymore. 'Course not. But things have calmed down, and there are more of us now than ever. You deserve a life Dean. You deserve - I dunno - stability. If that's what this is. You deserve to be happy."
Dean suppresses the urge to argue. Reminds himself it was his idea to stop hunting. He doesn't need to convince Sam otherwise, 'cause he doesn't want to.
"I am." He admits gruffly. "I am happy, Sam. Or - y’know. Gettin’ there."
Sam's expression folds. He smiles at Dean. Maybe the realest smile he's given him in years.
"Good. I mean it. Good. Stay happy, Dean. Please. And if that means moving to Canada..." he shrugs. "So be it."
"Woah, who said anythin' about moving?"
"You did. The second you invited us up here instead of coming back down to Lebanon." Sam gives him a skeptical look. "And you got a cat. You seem pretty moved in already."
Dean can't argue with that. He snorts. Now that the dread's subsided, it's like he can clearly see what's in front of him. This place - so not what he'd have chosen for himself if he was alone - but so perfect for him and Cas. For this - thing they're trying. This life. Happiness. Could it really be this simple from now on?
"So, um, you think Cas has forgiven me yet?"
Okay, maybe not completely simple.
Dean grimaces. Scratches his head. "Uh..."
Sam exhales. "I'm gonna get my ass beat."
"Nah. Maybe just… don't try praying to him again?"
Sam puts his head in his hands.
"I just bought new bedsheets, Sam. Don't even think about pissing him off while you're in our house."
Sam peeks at him through his fingers. "Our house? God, you're so married."
Dean punches his shoulder. "Shut up. And get inside. The quicker we get on with this dinner, the quicker you can convince Cas you're not about to sigil his ass to Neverland."
*
Cas' greeting is nothing short of frosty. He's in the hallway when they get back inside, bulging, tanned arms crossed over his ridiculously tight 'Thick Thighs Blue Eyes' t-shirt.
"Hello, Sam." He says. Glacial.
Sam audibly swallows. "Hey, Cas. We, uh. Got you a gift."
Cas says nothing. Sam bends down to pick up the brown paper bag Eileen left by the front door and hands it to Cas, who pointedly does not take it.
Dean rolls his eyes. "Give it." He takes the surprisingly heavy bag from Sam's trembling fingers and reaches inside.
He pulls out a terracotta pot planted with some plant or another.
Cas narrows his eyes. "It’s an oak-leaved hydrangea." He comments, stepping forward to take the mystery plant out of Dean's hands.
"Yeah, the guy at the store said that um. Bees like it. Or something. Thought you could plant it outside. Claire said you're building bee-hives?"
Dean doesn't miss the excited flash which flits across Cas' face. He schools his expression back into one of cold neutrality when he looks back at Sam.
"Hydrangeas also represent regret and repentance." He tells him without emotion.
"I, uh. I didn't. Didn't know that." Sam stammers like a fish out of water. Flaps his hands and avoids Cas' eyes at all cost.
"That's a shame." Says Cas, before turning his back on Sam and marching off to take the stupid plant outside.
Dean breathes a sigh of relief and elbows Sam in the side. "Okay. You're in the clear."
"In the clear?!" Sam shout-whispers, "Dean, he looked like he was gonna smite the shit outta me!"
Dean grins. "But he didn't. Nice move with the plant, by the way. He's totally gonna nerd out over it for the next hour."
Sam just shakes his head, bemused, before following Dean into the kitchen.
"You two are so weird."
It takes a while to convince Cas to come back inside. He's scoping out a place to plant the hydrangea in the ground, grumbling about it not being the right season for pollination and having the wrong kind of soil here. Dean coaxes him back in by reminding him that other people are hungry, and if they don't serve dinner soon, it'll be midnight before everyone's done eating.
Dean's ready to help himself to the haul they've been slaving over for half the day, but he's intercepted by Claire and Kaia (Jack trails cheerfully behind, carrying a purring Grace in his arms), who wrestle him up the stairs and into the 'I Wuv Hugs' t-shirt he'd unceremoniously shoved into the back of the wardrobe after he got back from hospital.
He reappears at the dining table where the rest of the party are already seated, stifling laughs at the sight of him.
At least he's not the only one in a dumb shirt.
Kaia's got on her classic 'Pussy Wagon' number. There's Cas in his slutty 'Thick Thighs, Blue Eyes' one. Claire's, like Kaia's, has a picture of a hyper-realistic cat on it. Only this one is wearing a bikini and it just says 'Check Meowt.’ Jack's innocently reads ‘Bee Happy,’ with a picture of a bee flying into a flower (Dean doesn't need three guesses to know whose idea that one was). Eileen's has a huge, printed (and slightly distorted) photo of her own face on it, and Sam's reads: ‘Shawty Got Body’ on the front, and ‘Shawty Got Ass’ on the back. Apparently it's a reference to some shitty reality TV show him and Eileen have been watching. But the most perplexing of all is Jody's, which just has a picture of a shark on it and says ‘hawaii’ in all lower-case comic-sans. Claire finds it fuckin' hilarious. Dean's decided everyone's gone insane.
A holy silence descends on the table when everyone starts eating, and Dean’s gotta say, he’s outdone himself. Well. They have. Cas picks at his food, but he seems to have taken a special liking to the cranberry sauce in particular, and it’s a good thing they made double the intended amount ‘cause he's eaten half a pot all on his own.
Grace winds between Dean’s legs under the table, settling into her preferred donut shape on the rug by his feet. Beside him, Jack has arranged all his food into neat, perfect, segments on his plate.
"Would it hurt ya to add a little gravy, kid?" Dean jokes.
"Yes." Jack replies, handling his knife and fork in his fists. Toddler style. "The molecules wouldn't fit together at all. The texture would be extremely unpleasant."
Cas nods gravely in agreement. Claire huffs a laugh into a bread roll.
"Sorry for not taking the molecules into consideration." Says Dean, "Won't happen again."
"You'll understand when you no longer have a need for corporeal food." Says Jack lightly.
"That's kinda ominous, Jack." Kaia chimes in.
"And morbid." Claire adds.
"And true." Sam finishes. "How's that work, anyway? You get your wings yet?"
Jody leans across the table. "Wings? What wings?"
Dean blinks. Feels himself turning red. "Wait - how the hell d'you know about that?"
Cas puts down the knife and fork he was (badly) pretending to use. "I don't think this is the right ti"-
"Gabriel told us." Says Eileen around a full mouthful of ham.
"And Rowena's not been quiet about it either." Sam supplies.
"You're the talk of the hunter network too." Says Kaia. At Dean's perplexed expression, she shrugs. "Ain't no gossips like hunters and angels."
"Fuckin' Gabriel"-
"So where are they? Can we see them? Are they pretty?" Claire plants her elbows on the table, grinning at Dean with an enthusiasm which, frankly, frightens him.
“Slow your roll, Claire, y’don’t just ask a guy to see his wings. Take him to dinner first.”
They all jump, ‘cause the voice didn’t come from around the table. It came from the set of French doors which have just been flung open, thrusting a chilly breeze on them all.
“Seriously? No Thanksgiving invite and now this ?” Gabriel spreads his arms open wide with an exaggerated pout.
Cas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam’s still got his arm half raised, butter knife in hand. Eileen’s halfway into her pocket, reaching for her gun, and Claire, Kaia and Jody just gape in astonishment.
Jack waves brightly from beside Dean. “Hey, uncle Gabe. You want some sauce?”
“Is it cranberry?”
Jack nods.
“Then, yes!” He lunges for the table, but not before Cas swipes the remaining pot of cranberry sauce and holds it out of Gabriel’s reach.
“We have a front door.” He tells him haughtily. “Use it.”
“Or better yet, stay in the clouds.” Dean mutters with a scowl. ‘Cause he’s not quite gotten over all the shit Gabriel said in front of Sam. Y’know, when he outed Dean for being horrendously fucking gay for Cas and addicted to Grace, all in one fell swoop. Even though he maybe kinda deserved it a little. Even if he did save their lives the last time he showed up unannounced. How d’you stay mad at someone you’d be dead without?
Dean’s had plenty of practice, so it’s really not hard.
“Oh, c’mon, Deano.” Gabriel sidles over to Dean’s side, hooking an arm around his shoulders. “Thought you’d be a tad more chummy now that we’re brothers an’ all.”
Dean feels the bottom of his stomach slide out as he says. “What.”
“The bond! The romantic declarations! Your eminent transformation! You’re practically one of us now. The next fifty years will fly by - ‘scuse the pun. If you live that long. And then you’ll be well on your way to”-
There’s an audible splat as Gabriel is silenced by a dollop of cranberry sauce flying across the table at inhuman speeds, only to find its home squarely in the middle of his face.
Everyone looks at Cas. “We do not talk about Dean dying.” He says sternly. Spoon poised and loaded for another shot.
Gabriel ignores him and swipes a finger through the mess. Licks it. “This is good shit. I won’t lie.” He conjures an extra chair from nowhere and has somehow lengthened the size of the dining table to accommodate him, ‘cause when he scoots in beside Dean, there’s an extra plate setting there just for him.
“What were we talking about again?” He says, wiping his face clean with a napkin. “Ooooh, right. Yeah. Dean’s wings.” He begins piling food onto his plate. “Y’see, when an angel and a human love each other very much”-
“Skip the talk, Gabe. We covered this.” Sam interjects.
Gabriel rolls his eyes and sits back. “You guys are no fun.”
“We’re trying to enjoy a family dinner, thank you very much.” Says Dean.
He gasps. Clutches imaginary pearls. “Now you’re just being mean.”
“Uncle Gabriel is family, though. Right?” Says Jack. So genuinely confused it actually makes Dean feel bad.
“In the technical sense.” Cas bites.
Gabriel scoffs. “As if you didn’t come running to me for help the second you and your boyfriend had a spat.”
Cas purses his lips. Says nothing.
“Oh, boy. This is better than the Kardashians.” Claire whispers across the table.
“And he did also help me a lot in Indonesi”-
“Jack. What did we say about secrets?” Gabriel interrupts, looking genuinely flustered for the first time.
“ You were in Indonesia?” Says Dean, incredulous.
Jack nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Gabriel was with me the whole time. Even when”-
“Jack. Do not make me commit nepoticide.” Says Gabriel through gritted teeth.
“What happened to living it up in Bali?” Sam snorts.
“Gabriel was never in Bali.” Says Cas. “As soon as Jack pulled him out of the Empty he began helping with the restructuring of heaven and the celestial planes. He was the first to volunteer, actually.”
“Awwwh.” Kaia coos.
Gabriel, thoroughly put out, crosses his arms across his chest. “Like I said. No fun at all, guys. No. Fun. At. All.”
Gabriel doesn’t leave for the rest of the dinner, but no one asks him to. And honestly? Dean doesn’t mind.
After dessert, Cas pulls out a box of the weird Christmas cracker things he bought at Sobey's. Sam's equally baffled by them. But they're a Canadian Christmas tradition or whatever, so they each take turns grabbing one end of a cracker and pulling it across the table. Dean wins a small wooden ring puzzle off Jody, and a shitty little paper crown which Jack arranges on his head for him. By the time they're all crowned up, there's only one cracker left to go, and the only two who haven't won anything are Cas and Sam.
Sam offers his cracker to Cas across the table, who resolutely folds his arms and glares. Dean's mouth waters at the way his biceps bunch up, exposed by the too-small sleeves.
I could have you for dessert, he thinks. Deliberately loud. Cas' mouth quirks at the corner.
None the wiser to the indecent telepathy taking place across the table, Sam wiggles the cracker at Cas.
"C'mon, man. It's your last chance to win something."
Cas sniffs. "I don't care about winning."
Gabriel snorts, his own head stacked with three paper crowns, all different colours. "Divine General Castiel, holder of the third trumpet of heaven, doesn't care about winning? Please."
Cas scowls. Reluctantly takes the end of the cracker and pulls. A sharp crack echoes around the room, and Sam's left with the bigger half.
He gives a sheepish grin. "Looks like I win." He tips it up into his hands to reveal his gift, but instead of a paper crown or a bottle opener, a black, fuzzy, eight-legged thing drops onto his outstretched palm.
Sam's face is frozen in abject horror as the gargantuan spider takes a leisurely stroll across his hand, making its way up his wrist and arm.
"What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck." He repeats in high, breathy tones.
Dean's mouth drops open. Cas frowns.
"This wasn't me." And then, under his breath, "Although I wish it was."
Claire screams in delight. "It's a rose hair tarantula! So cute! Can I have it, Sam? Please?"
Sam pivots his arm toward Claire like he's holding an active grenade.
She scoops the spider up in both hands, cooing at it like it's a frickin' kitten.
Slowly, everyone at the table turns to look at Gabriel, who's got his fist stuck in his mouth.
He giggles into his knuckles. "Oopsie! Who put that in there?"
Sam glares at him.
Cas smirks and holds up his own end of the cracker, which has a bit of tissue paper stuck in it. "I got the crown."
Gabriel gets shoved on wash up duty as punishment for his crimes, while everyone else trickles into the living room.
And this is where Dean finds himself at a loss. He doesn't know what to do. 'Cause Sam breaks out the beers, and Eileen pulls out a bottle of something golden and delicious looking, and then the whole room is filled with the scent of alcohol and chocolate and nice, dangerous things.
Sam nudges Dean in the rib, offers him a beer.
"Here, man."
Dean takes the cold, sweating bottle from his brother's big, steady hand.
Brings the smooth glass rim to his lips and sips.
The beer slides down his throat. Icy and fizzy and everything he fucking loves after a long day. Then it sits in his stomach. Swirls around amongst the meal he spent all day cooking. Feels.
Not good.
Playing it off like he's going to the bathroom, Dean leaves and power-walks through the kitchen. Bottle slipping in his fingers. Makes it to the front door and tips the remaining contents down the drain outside the house. Sucks in lungfuls of chilly, January air and clenches all the muscles in his abdomen as he tries not to puke.
He sits heavily on the stone doorstep once the feeling subsides and puts his head in his hands.
"The fuck's wrong with me…?"
"Nothing is wrong with you, Dean."
Dean huffs a sour laugh. Watches his breath mist up in the moonlit dark.
"Can't keep anything to myself anymore, can I?"
He hears Cas stop in the doorway behind him.
"If you'd prefer to be alone..."
"Nah." He shakes his head. "C'mere." He pats the spot beside him. Shuffles over to let Cas settle in next to him. Thighs brushing. Hard and solid in Dean's stretched-out jeans.
They sit in silence for a second. Just. Looking out at the snow-topped world.
"Recovery sucks." Dean says eventually.
Cas nods. Thumb lightly tracing circles atop Dean's knee. It kinda tickles. But it's not unpleasant.
"It also doesn't last forever." Cas supplies. "One day, not far from now, you'll look back on this time and it'll feel like it all happened to someone else."
Dean scratches the back of his neck, uneasy. "I don't want to - forget. Disassociate. Whatever. I wanna just... I wanna get over it. 'Cause being here, with you, it's - it's so, so good, Cas. And I - there's all this crap in the way." He gestures to himself. "Don't wanna ruin it."
Cas winds his arm around Dean. Faces him. "You aren't ruining anything. There is nothing to ruin. There's just us. Together."
He thinks about what Sam said. How - weird it is. That this is just life now.
"It hurts because you're allowing yourself to care." Cas continues gently. "You value yourself more now, so the idea of returning to old behaviours... Old habits. It hurts. It's a pattern your mind is struggling to re-calibrate. It is neurological as much as it's physical, and it will take a while before you feel comfortable with this new way of life."
"That's a lotta Marie Kondo self-help crap to process, Cas." Dean weakly jokes.
"Marie Kondo is a minimalist. Not a self-help writer." He frowns. "Although, I suppose the two can be interlinked, especially if we consider her KonMari method, which dictates we should get rid of anything that doesn’t spark joy"-
Dean laughs. "Guess I can never get rid of you then, ya nerd."
Cas gives him a look. Smiles. Touches the back of his hand with two fingers. Doesn't need to put any Grace in there. The love is enough.
They go back into the house together.
Dean prepares to have to explain to Sam why a bottle of beer sent him over the edge. But before he can, Sam catches him coming in and says,
"Sorry, man. Forgot about your hepatitis thing. Probably shouldn't be drinking that, huh?"
Dean exhales. "Nope. Prob'ly not."
And that's it. There's no fanfare. No one corners him and demands to know why he's not drinking.
He tries to settle into a (sober) festive mindset. Cas being beside him - touching the small of his back. Pressing his arm against Dean's. Sitting beside him. Close. But not close enough to be - too much. It helps. A lot.
"Presents?" Eileen suggests when Gabriel returns, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Suspicious as fuck.
Dean throws him a scowl and checks the kitchen. He's turned the entire thing pink. Aga, walls, island, fridge - pink, pink, pink.
"Merry Christmas and a happy birthday new year!" He says from the doorway, throwing jazz-hands.
The scuffle that ensues between him and Cas reminds Dean of the ones he used to have with Sam. All knees and elbows and headlocks. There's no real heat in it, but Claire leads a hearty fight chant anyway.
Grace meows from the sidelines and swipes a paw at Gabriel's ankle.
The 'fight' ends with Gabriel flat on his back, an elbow at his throat. He turns the kitchen back with a click of his fingers and a grin on his face, and then they get to the actual gift-giving part of the festivities.
"Can we do Jack and Claire's first?" Says Dean. "We kinda need to, um. Show 'em."
Claire jumps up, big fat fluffy spider still crawling around her arm. Jack just smiles and follows Dean and Cas up the stairs, Grace on his heels.
Dean's weirdly nervous. It's not like it's a huge big deal, and Cas assured him this was a great idea. It's just - big. Another piece in this whole normal(ish) life thing they got going on.
They show Claire her room first. The walls are a dark, soft purple. There are sheer curtains on the arched windows - similar to the ones now in the master bedroom - and she has her own en-suite in the corner.
Claire's mouth drops open when she sees it. She takes three steps into the empty room - save for a bed and a desk - and stops. Her back to them.
"It isn't... much. It's nothing like what you grew up with, back when"- Cas breaks off. Tightens his shoulders. Ah. He's nervous too. "It will never be the same. But Dean and I, we - we want you to feel like this is your home as well. Whenever you want. Of course, you don't have to"-
Claire gently plops the tarantula on the bed, before turning around and throwing herself at them both. Arms spread wide. Face buried in Dean's shoulder.
Cas and Dean link arms around her. Jack stays in the corridor outside, petting Grace. Which - yeah. Dean's glad it's just them for a sec. 'Cause Claire's never really had this. A moment. With the two of them.
"Ugh. My make-up's gonna run." She sniffs into Dean's armpit.
He laughs. "Okay, Barbie. Save the dramatics. C'mon. It's just a room." She pulls away. Glares, but with a smile. He ruffles her hair. She slaps his arm. Pokes Cas in the shoulder.
"Thanks. It's nice. Fancy windows."
"You're more than welcome." Cas tells her.
She glances around. Eyes a little misty. "I need to get a tank, though. For BooBoo."
"BooBoo?" Dean grimaces. "You're gonna keep that thing? And you're calling it fuckin' BooBoo?"
"Yes. I'm keeping her." She says resolutely, watching the spider crawl across the sheets with a mushy expression. "This is her house too now."
"Jesus Christ."
"At least we'll never have a rodent problem." Cas says.
"That thing eats rodents?" Dean points at it. Appalled. "That's fuckin' gross."
"I ate a mouse once." Says Cas. "It was a delicacy in ancient Rome. They would roast dormice in a specially made ceramic pot and serve it as a starter."
"How was it?" Asks Claire.
Cas' nose scrunches up. "Stringy."
They let Claire (and BooBoo) explore her room alone, and venture up the corridor to take Jack to his.
Where they left Claire's mostly unfurnished, not wanting to assume her preferences, Cas went to town decorating Jack's. The walls are a sunny shade of light blue, with a mural of fluffy clouds along the ceiling border. All the accents on the furniture are yellow, and they found one of those rugs that's got cars and roads and buses on it. There's an explosion of soft toys. Every species imaginable, Dean thinks, and a few clothes in the wardrobe Cas picked out for him.
Jack bounces into his room, gasping like it's frickin' Disney world, and immediately gets on his hands and knees to inspect the road rug. Following that, he picks up every plushy animal and starts rattling off a bunch of facts about each one.
Like father like son, Dean thinks, as the animal facts get more obscure.
"Castiel," Jack says eventually, taking a breath, "I hope you didn't spend too much of your Grace making this. Especially now that it's depleted."
Dean stops. Looks at Cas. He goes cold. Heart starts thudding a mile a minute 'cause - shit. "What? Your Grace is going?"
Something is happening. Something bad. Hunter brain hunter brain hunter brain.
Cas sighs. Has the grace to look a little guilty.
"Dean. I'm fine. I was going to - I wanted to make sure before saying anything." He takes both of Dean's hands in both his own. "I am not losing my Grace. Not by any means. It's simply... returned. To the way it was before I settled on earth. I'm not sure why, but I am as powerful now as I was the day we met. No more and no less."
Dean wills his panicked pulse to slow. Forces himself to hear - really hear - what Cas is saying.
No urgency. No situation. No one's dying.
"Okay. When did this happen?"
"Right around the time we completed our bond."
Jack nods, like this isn't news. "Exactly. You were finally able to give it back."
They both turn to look at Jack. "Huh?" Says Dean.
"Give what back, Jack?" Asks Cas.
"The Grace Dean gave you." Jack says slowly. Like they're both slow to the uptake. He frowns. "You weren't aware?"
They shake their heads.
"I don't have Grace, Jack." Dean reminds him, "I'm human. Mostly."
"You didn't have Grace, no, but you had love."
Dean waits. 'Cause this is. Makes no sense.
Jack stands up in the middle of the elaborate plushy circle he's arranged around himself. "Remember, Castiel. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. You taught me that. But it can be transformed. You're both bonded, and with that, comes an exchange of Grace. The rule's the same. Doesn't matter you're human." Jack shrugs. "When Castiel was in the Empty, you had all this love for him, Dean, and it had nowhere to go. It was why I - struggled to be around you." He lowers his eyes. Ashamed, Dean realises. "I could feel the energy of it. Could feel how... painful it was. I didn't know how to help and it was kind of - a lot. When I pulled Castiel out, all that love transformed into Grace. Went right back to him. He's been holding onto it until your wings could grow."
Cas sucks in a huge, shaky breath. "So, all this time... that extra Grace was just - the love Dean had for me?"
Dean feels like there's water in his lungs. He hasn't taken a breath since Jack started talking. He's aware - somewhere - that Cas is squeezing his hand really fucking tight.
"Sure." Jack shrugs. "Love's a kind of energy. Especially in our dimension, where cognitive energy manifests as a current. You can feel it, y'know? The bond just transmuted it into Grace." Like it’s simple. Like it’s obvious. Like they should’ve known all along.
Cas and Dean face each other in astonishment. Dean's head is a cacophony of thought. His and Cas' feelings collide through their bond.
"So the entire time we were"- Dean swallows his words. Jack doesn't need to hear that, "I wasn't... taking from you?"
"Dean." Cas gives a watery laugh. Takes Dean's face in his hands. "You never took. It was always given. Always."
"Yeah." Dean chokes out. "Me too."
He doesn't really think when he leans forward and kisses Cas full on the mouth. Forgets Jack's in the room. Forgets the whole family is downstairs. Forgets he was ever afraid of this, 'cause he loved Cas all along, and the universe knew it and turned it into something beautiful and pure and something he - literally - couldn't live without.
Because that's what the Grace feels like, isn't it? Love. A special space carved out into the hearth inside his chest - kindled with unbridled, uncomplicated fire. Sunlight piercing his heart. Every happy memory wrapped up in an all encompassing, ecstatic feeling that just - fucking consumed him. He wasn't addicted to Grace. He was addicted to loving Cas.
And fuck, yeah. It made him horny too. 'Cause Cas makes him horny. So it only makes sense the Grace had the same effect. But Dean thinks he probably shouldn't ask Jack if his horniness also contributed to the Grace pot 'cause that's just all sorts of wrong and -
"Can you two maybe get a room that isn’t the four year old's?"
Cas and Dean fly apart.
Jody stands in the doorway. Arms crossed. Smirk on her face.
"Came to see what was taking y'all so long. We do have more presents to give out, y'know." She drawls.
Dean clears his throat. "Right. Yeah. Coming."
Cas makes a noise beside him. Dean kicks him in the calf. And you say I have a juvenile sense of humour.
Cas stands aside to let Jack out the room first. Squeezes Dean's ass as soon as there's no one behind them.
Dean bites back a yelp and smacks his denim-clad thigh in return.
Cas gives him an innocent smile. Dean rolls his eyes.
Yeah. They're gonna be fine.
*
Dean doesn't know why he's so surprised at the amount of stuff people got him. This is supposed to be a birthday thing as well, too. He kinda forgot. And they've just. Never really celebrated properly before.
There was always something more important going on.
Sam and Eileen give him some top of the line fishing gear. Jody gets him shiny new car tools. Claire and Kaia present him with a framed picture of the Impala Kaia took on her digital camera back when Dean was stuck in hospital. And Jack already gave Dean his rice crispy treats, which he eats while opening the other presents.
By the end, he’s said enough ‘thank you’s’ and given so many hugs, his arms start to hurt. He’s about to take a bathroom break when Cas says,
“Wait. I haven’t given you my present yet.”
Dean laughs. “You gave it to me last night, remember?”
Several groans reverberate around the room. Claire actually boos. Oops.
“I have… something else.” Says Cas, high spots of colour dusting his face.
Dean stands in the middle of the room. Cas comes closer. All eyes on them. Pulls his hand out from behind his back and presents Dean with a small, square box.
The room holds its breath. ‘Cause this. This looks like.
“Cas.” Kaia stage-whispers. “You’re meant to get down on one knee.”
Cas blinks. Alarmed. “Oh. I. Oh.” He lowers himself on one knee, wide eyes on Dean.
Dean just stares. Frozen to the spot. Aware he’s probably beet-fuckin’-red right now. 'Cause this can't actually be happening, right?
“Dean?” He says, expression pleading and open and fuckin’ - adorable. He holds out the box. “This… is for you. If you want it. It isn’t - traditional. By Western standards. I know that, but I”- he closes his eyes for a moment. Catches his breath. “It would mean a lot to me if you accepted it.”
Dean reaches out and takes the tiny velvet box. Flips it open. Inside is - kinda what he expected. A ring. Slim and metallic black.
“Wow. Fuck. Cas.” Real articulate, Dean. “Cas.” He inhales hard. Takes the ring out and slips it on his ring finger. “It’s - yeah. ‘Course I accept, man.”
Cas’ eyes glow a little. Only enough so Dean’s able to notice the thin band of sunset gold around the edges of his irises. He pulls out another box. Identical. Opens it and shows Dean the contents.
It’s another ring. Same shape. Same width. But gold.
Gold, like. The ends of his wings. Light and iridescent. Ethereal. Unearthly.
He looks again and the black ring on his finger. Shockingly black.
“Is this…?”
Cas’ smile widens. “I made them from my feathers, yes. The material cannot be broken in this plane of existence.” He slips the gold band onto his finger and stands. Offers his hand. Dean takes it, and when he does, the two rings clack together. A small, singular version of the sound Cas’ wings make when the feathers vibrate and tap against one another.
“You pulled out a feather for this?” Dean says, voice higher than usual as he struggles to remain sane in front of their family. “Damn, Cas. Must’a hurt.”
“It was worth it.” He holds his hand up. The gold ring glints in the soft, ambient light. “This is the colour of your wings, Dean. My wings changed when you gave me your Grace. They adapted. Took on a hue of your soul.”
Dean doesn’t miss the gasps in the room, and Claire saying:
“I knew they’d be pretty.”
“So… my wings…”
“Your primary feathers will be black.” Cas tells him. “To show that you're bonded with me, the way mine show I'm bonded with you.”
Dean laughs, light-headed. Dizzy. Elated and - can’t believe this is real.
“Thank you.” He says, emphatic. Euphoric. Such small words for the gratitude choking him up right now. And then, quieter, “Love you, Cas.”
Not quiet enough apparently, ‘cause there’s a chorus of ‘awhs’ and ‘oh my god’s’ and then Gabriel saying,
“Damn you boys move fast. How long's it been? Twelve years? I'd wait another seven-hundred at least before even thinking about marriage. Give or take a decade.”
Dean kisses Cas anyway. In this room full of people who love him. Who he loves. And then Jack’s ushering them all outside, saying he’s gotta show them something, and the sky is full of falling stars.
Dean and Cas stand under the meteor shower conjured by a four year old God, faces alight with gold, surrounded by their family. Hearts full - now and for the rest of eternity - of pure and perfect Grace.