The First Thanksgiving | a destiel fanfic
It’s been a family tradition ever since Mary can remember. Her grandmother had started it, then passed it on to her mother. Mary and John have taken over hosting Thanksgivings now since they’re both only children and their parents want to see the grandkids and Mary has meticulously carried on the tradition. John thinks it’s stupid, but she loves being able to look back through the years and see everyone who attended.
Every year, a pristine white tablecloth covers the table. Each seat has a Sharpie in front of it and their guests each write their names on the tablecloth where they’re sitting. It’s nice to look back and see their little family grow. She’s got the first years Dean and Sam were able to write their own names, a few of their previous dates, but this year… this year is extra special. This year, there’s another Winchester name on the table.
Dean and Castiel had met their freshman year of college and Castiel had been a staple at their home for Thanksgiving ever since. He didn’t have any family to go home to—they’d disowned him after he came out as gay—and Dean had begged his parents to let him bring Castiel home that year. Mary had agreed almost immediately and, while it took a little bit of persuading on her part, John had eventually agreed as well. That was the first year of many. Castiel had taken the seat to Dean’s right and, when encouraged to write his name, had sheepishly answered that he wasn’t family and didn’t think the tradition had applied to him but signed his name nonetheless. His handwriting that first year was small and careful, pristine lines marked into the white fabric.
Over the years, his signature had become more and more relaxed the more he was at the Winchester house. They didn’t actually start dating until three years after they’d both graduated, though they’d spent that entire time living together in a tiny apartment in Kansas City. That next Thanksgiving, Dean had leaned over and drawn a heart next to Castiel’s name with a mischievous grin. Castiel had been appalled that Dean would mess with their family tradition but to this day, that tablecloth is her favorite, at least for now.
Dean and Cas are the last to arrive for Thanksgiving dinner. Mary’s parents had flown in a few days ago and John’s had arrived the day before. Dean and Cas had decided to drive down on their own, though Mary can’t exactly blame them for cutting it so close. They do have a house to move into, after all.
“Mom,” Dean grins, pulling her into a tight hug and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Sorry we’re so late. Smells amazing in here.”
Mary smiles and pulls Castiel into a tight hug. “Hi, Cas. Good to see you again.”
Castiel smiles warmly at her. “Hello, Mrs. Winchester. Thank you for having us. I’m sorry we’re late.”
Mary waves him off, leading them through to the dining room. “You’re perfectly on time. Take a seat, John’s just carving the turkey and then we’ll be ready to eat.”
The child-like wonder on Dean’s face never fails to make her smile. He drags his husband to the table and greets both sets of grandparents, then gives Sam and bone-crushing hug and kisses Rowena on both cheeks. Castiel hangs back, though he does give Sam and Rowena hugs. It doesn’t surprise her. Neither her parents nor John’s had been thrilled when Dean had announced his engagement to another man, but John and Mary had shut that down immediately. Their son was happy and Castiel was a good kid, that’s all they cared about.
She tries not to outright stare, but based on the look Dean’s giving her, she’s not very successful. She puts her hands up and heads to the kitchen to give John a hand carrying out the rest of the food. By the time she gets back, Castiel’s head is bowed and he’s very carefully writing his name on the tablecloth. Mary rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles reassuringly. “Doesn’t have to be perfect, you know that.”
Castiel flushes, fiddling with the Sharpie for a moment before shrugging. “This one does.”
John not-so-subtly nudges her as he sets the platter of turkey on the table, so she takes her seat and they pass the food around the table, loading their plates. Dean takes the liberty of filling Castiel’s for him while he finishes his signature. Once Cas is satisfied, he smiles and caps the Sharpie, brushing his thumb over the ink.
She doesn’t actually get to see it until well after everyone’s left for the night. Dean and Cas are crashing in one of the spare bedrooms and Sam and Rowena have the in-law suite in the basement. John’s taking care of the leftovers while she cleans the last of the dishes off the table. The dark ink catches her eye and she sets the stack of plates on the table so she can get a proper look.
There, meticulously written out in neat, beautiful handwriting, is Castiel Winchester with a small heart after Winchester. It makes her tear up and that’s how John finds her, watery eyes staring down at the signature of their son-in-law.
“First of many,” John says with a smile, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She leans back against him and nods, smiling widely.
She spends the next day carefully embroidering the tablecloth, paying special attention to Dean and Castiel’s signatures. It’s the first time a full tablecloth won’t be going into her collection, but she thinks she can forgive this one.
Nine months later on their one-year anniversary, she presents them with a simple frame wrapped in wrapping paper. Dean shoots her a puzzled look while Cas tears the paper off. He doesn’t stop looking at her until he hears Cas’s sharp intake of breath and he finally looks down at their gift.
Carefully settled into the frame is the cutout of their two signatures from their very first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Dean’s eyes look a little watery—though Mary wouldn’t dare point that out—but it’s Castiel’s reaction that shocks her. He pushes the frame onto Dean’s lap and crosses the room to pull her into a tight hug that she returns, albeit a bit bewildered.
Castiel’s smile is bright when he pulls away. “Thank you. I know how much those mean to you, it couldn’t have been easy to cut one up to give to us.”
Mary smiles softly and shrugs. “I figured you two would enjoy it a little more, especially somewhere it could be displayed, not just left in a dusty box of memories.”
Dean reaches out and grabs Cas’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’ve got the perfect place.”
She admires it every year after that. Dean and Cas take over hosting Thanksgiving dinners once they adopted a little boy, Jack, and the frame stays front and center on the mantle above their fireplace.
