Hey, @atomicdetectivehideout I’m happy to be your @destielsecretsanta2020
Merry Christmas! Please, accept my humble gift for the holiday. It’s a 3k of fluff and stuff (well, when I say fluff, I mean, I really tried!). I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
Thank you to the most awesomest people to ever awesome @campchitaquamemories and @amyoatmeal for offering to beta this little thing. You guys rock!
Here it is on ao3 if you prefer
Those Things That Couples Do
Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a lame idea. Not lame at all, Dean thought, to the extent he might even have to thank Sam later. Well, maybe not outright thank him, but definitely bake a cherry pie for Eileen (her favorite; the woman sure knew how to enjoy life). It felt nice, lying on the bed with Cas in the semi-darkness, Christmas lights on the dresser and a couple of the apple cider and cinnamon scented candles Cas liked so much (and Dean grumbled about but secretly enjoyed too) being the only source of light. It felt cozy. Safe. They talked in hushed voices so as not to disturb the quiet magic of the bubble they had created in that moment, and dammit, but Dean was grateful to his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law for this particular chick-flick.
“So, you sure you want this to go on your list as the first item?” Dean nudged Cas gently with an elbow. “Sick of my cooking already? I’m hurt, man,” he added, only half-jokingly.
The idea Eileen pitched to them was to write down three items each to reflect their hopes and plans for the upcoming year. At first, Dean laughed when Sam handed him a blue envelope with four blank craft paper cards to be written on. He had been about to suggest Sam find someone more age-appropriate to participate in that particular brand of cute (Dean could almost see the faces Claire and Kaia would make at the suggestion), but Cas’s quiet ‘It’s a lovely idea’ made him silently accept the package at the last second. This provided Sam with the pleasure of witnessing his older brother biting his tongue and smiling reassuringly at Cas who’d been busy searching Dean’s face for a reaction.
Per the rules Sam had explained to them, they were supposed to write down their plans (which they were encouraged to discuss, because that’s apparently what couples do) and complete a bonus task – individually, this time – describing where they see themselves next year at Christmas. Then, they were to seal their envelope and give it to Sam and Eileen for safekeeping, accepting theirs in exchange. That way next year there would be an additional reason to spend Christmas together and see which things have come to pass.
“Stop fishing for a compliment. You know your cooking is delicious.” Cas turned to look at Dean. “I want to be able to do nice things for you, Dean. Like you do for me. Cooking for people you care about is how you show affection and those small, but meaningful gestures go a long way. I’d love to be able to surprise you with a breakfast pie in bed, or make soup for when you catch a cold, or-“ Dean interrupted him with a chaste and gentle kiss on the lips. “You had me at the breakfast pie, Cas. Cooking and baking: 101 it is.” Cas smiled, reached for Dean’s hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Laying back on the pillow, he rested Dean’s hand on his belly, gently stroking the fingers. Dean closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.
“What will you put as your first item?” Cas asked a moment later.
“That’s easy,” Dean murmured into Cas’s shoulder. “Beach vacay. Never had the time for that before. What do you think about some sand between our toes? Maybe even skinny-dipping with enough margaritas?”
“You do look extremely hot in those aviators of yours,” Cas replied in a thoughtful voice, as if mulling it over. “And skinny-dipping does sound promising. A beach vacation certainly belongs on that list.”
“Cas, if you want me naked and in sunglasses, that can be arranged anytime, anywhere.”
“I want you in those cut-off shorts of yours, and then I want you out of them,” Cas continued in a low voice, and Dean felt the hairs on his arm stand up under Castiel’s fingertips. “I want to explore your sun-kissed skin and count the freckles on your back. I want you to enjoy yourself in all the ways that appeal to you, so yes. You’re writing that down. I’m taking you to the beach.”
“Just like that?” Dean asked, teasingly. “Pretty goal-oriented, aren’t you?”
Cas glared at him; Christmas lights caught in his dark blue eyes. “I was a Seraph, Dean. Goal-oriented was in the job description.”
“Bossy,” Dean suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.
“You like that.”
“Touché.”
Cas turned on his side, facing Dean. They were lying so close now they breathed the same air, noses just shy of touching. Dean took Cas’s hand and laced their fingers, nudging a knee between Cas’s thighs. “What else is on your list?” Dean asked.
Cas didn’t answer right away, and Dean closed his eyes to bask in the warmth of their bodies.
“There’s a small plot of land behind the bunker,” Cas began, “I was wondering whether it’s okay with you and Sam if I make a garden there?” He sounded uncertain, for some unknown reason, and Dean frowned at that. “It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just some flowerbeds with sunflowers or maybe lavender-“
“Cas,” Dean interjected, still frowning, “why would you even ask? You don’t need anyone’s permission to do what you want to do, come on. The bunker belongs to you just as much it does to me or Sammy or Eileen or the rest of our extended family.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gently freed his hand from Castiel’s hold to cup his cheek. “If you want a garden, I’ll help you make one. Or just as happily will mind my own business if it’s something you want to do on your own. Okay?”
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas whispered, earnestly. And it wasn’t about the garden, really. It was about being reassured he belonged, was wanted. Accepted.
“You should definitely add the garden to your list, Cas. And, while we’re on the topic, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about.” Dean cleared his throat, his heart rate quickened. He’d been thinking about this for quite a while, but never seemed to find the right moment to broach the topic. Frankly, he’d never felt brave enough to do so. Why mess up a good thing? But the idea lived in his head rent free, and there was no lying to himself, no tricking his mind out of it. “What would you say about a real garden, though? With an apple tree, some benches, maybe even a gazebo? Where you can plant all kinds of flowers to appease those honeybees of yours?”
“That- That sounds lovely, Dean,” Cas replied, obviously a little bit at a loss. “What do you have in mind?”
Dean was grateful it was dark in the room because he could feel himself blushing, chest burning as if someone had put a hot iron on it. He took a deep breath that didn’t do much to lessen the anxiety.
“Remember, back in Sioux Falls, Bobby’s old property?” Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to nod in agreement. “So, it’s all still there. It’s a pretty big plot of land, and the house burned down, obviously, but I was thinking,” the words kept jumping one in front of the other, and Dean felt the blush deepen, desperately hoping Cas would understand what he was trying to say. “I ain’t that bad at rebuilding things, and, of course, it’s gonna be quite a lot of work, but who doesn’t like a fixer-upper, right? There’s the salvage yard, too, we can do something with that. I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind, and there shouldn’t be any problems with the documents, given who’s the sheriff in town. And that way you and I get to be closer to Claire, and Donna, the whole gang-“
“You and I?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean took a deep breath, grateful for the interjection.
“You and I. And some bees, apparently,” Dean gave Cas a weak smile, searching his eyes.
Green met blue, and for the better part of a minute (eternity, really) Cas just kept looking at him silently. Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest so loudly, he wondered if maybe he just couldn’t hear Cas’s answer because of the pounding in his ears. But Castiel’s lips didn’t move, and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he needed to get out before he went into a full-blown panic attack. It was too much. Why would Cas want to leave the bunker? It was way safer there. There were other people, hunters, coming and going, Sam and Eileen lived barely an hour away, why would he even consider moving in with Dean, let alone-
Suddenly, Cas was on Dean, left hand on Dean’s pillow for support, right hand cupping Dean’s face. Cas pressed kisses everywhere, holding on to Dean like it was the last thing on Earth worth doing. Cas moved his hand into Dean’s hair, gripping tight, and Dean moaned, capturing Cas’s mouth with his own, deepening the kiss. Dean’s anxiety turned into exhilaration, because that was very clearly a yes, and somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d just suffered a mild heart attack. In mere seconds, though, his body went pliant under Cas’s weight, the kiss grew even more urgent and heated. Dean’s brain short-circuited, the only thing that registered was the press of Cas’s groin to his own, the sounds Cas was making, the texture of his tongue, the softness of his palms, his smell, his taste, the overwhelming need to be closer, to become one, to forget there ever was an outside world at all. But as Dean slipped his hands under Cas’s T-shirt, Cas groaned and broke the kiss, panting. He pressed his forehead to Dean’s, eyes closed and breathing heavy.
“I believe we’ve gotten carried away,” Cas said, hoarsely. “We still have to finish the lists before Sam leaves for Eileen’s.”
“Screw Sam,” Dean rasped, “I don’t care, just take off your clothes and keep kissing me senseless.”
Cas growled and bit his lip to keep himself from grinding.
“There will be no screwing Sam,” he said in a low voice. “We finish the lists, give Sam the envelope, bid him goodnight,” Cas took a deep breath, his body looming over Dean. “And then we pick up right where we left off.”
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whined.
“Patience, Dean,” Cas pressed a kiss behind his ear, where he knew Dean was especially sensitive. “All in due time.”
With that, Castiel got up, went to click his bedside lamp on, fluffed his pillow, propped it against the headboard, and took the writing supplies from the nightstand. When he got back on the bed, he made sure to leave a few inches of space between them.
Dean groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, but took a couple of deep breaths, willing his heart rate to friggin’ slow down already. He sat up and reached to switch on the lamp on his side of the bed. He watched Cas for a moment before clarifying, “Yes to the house, though?”
Cas looked at him, pen pausing in the middle of a sentence. “I love you, Dean. Yes to the house.”
Dean grinned. “So, two down, one to go. Item number three for 2021?”
Castiel chewed on the cap, thoughtfully. “This one is less specific, but I’d like to try things I haven’t tried before. Unusual food, new experiences, all kinds of activities – with you.”
“Cas, I swear, if you hadn’t stopped just now, I’d have given you a thing or two to cross out from that bucket list,” Dean smiled, cockily.
Cas grinned. “I should think so.”
“Just say the word,” Dean winked, “and we can go baptize the library.”
“Noted. Let’s just not traumatize your brother any further.”
“He’ll live.”
Cas sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation. “We’ll get back to this conversation as soon as we’re finished with the task at hand. What’s your item number three for the list?”
“Well,” Dean sat up straighter to get himself into business mode, “I’d love to spend more time with family. Get to know them better, maybe set up some family traditions? I don’t know if everyone will appreciate the idea, but it would be kinda awesome.” He glanced at the framed photos proudly sitting on his shelf.
“I think it’s a wonderful thing to put on your list,” Castiel reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I don’t have a shadow of a doubt, everyone will be thrilled.”
“They’d better be. Otherwise, they’ll be missing out on the greatest feasts humanity’s ever known.”
“Yes,” Cas agreed easily, “among other things.”
Dean smiled and reached for his own supplies.
For the next five minutes the only sound that filled the room was rustling of paper. Having finished writing, Dean clicked his pen off. “So, what’s with the bonus task? The one where we describe where we see ourselves this time next year?”
Cas bent the card he was writing on in half and slid it into the envelope. “We’re not supposed to discuss it, but, seeing that we will be exchanging our predictions next year, I figure we just address it to each other?”
“Let’s do that,” Dean nodded. “So, no consulting, huh?”
Castiel hummed. “If we were to respect the rules. You know, though, my prediction doesn’t make much of a secret,” he shrugged, smiling. “This time next year, and all the years to come, I see myself watching a Christmas movie with you. I can’t keep up with the plot, really, because mostly I’m watching you watching the movie, watching you smile, listening to you laugh. And I am overwhelmed by how grateful I am for everything that has led me there, in that moment. I’m happy. I’m with you.”
Dean’s throat felt tight and his eyes started prickling with tears somewhere between ‘all the years to come’ and ‘watching you watching the movie’. Cas was looking at him with such adoration, reverence even, blue eyes glistening, pen and paper forgotten.
“Yeah,” Dean said, wrapping Cas in a bear hug. “Yeah.” He hid his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck and felt an awkward kiss being pressed to the side of his head. “You’re such a sap, man,” he breathed a somewhat wet laugh. “You’re such a sap, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I hope you know that.”
“I know,” Cas mumbled, “I know.”
“You should still put all of that in writing. You know, for posterity.”
“I will. Will you write yours?”
Dean withdrew a little to give Cas a kiss on the cheek. “I will. But I’m gonna need you to bear with me, ‘cause for once in my life I would actually like to stick to the rules.” He caught Cas’s eyes, “Is that okay with you?” he asked, with a hint of a mischievous smile.
“Of course, Dean.”
“Good. Good.” Dean grinned. “And Cas? I love you, too.”
***
Eileen was supposed to pick him up in about an hour, so Sam sat at his desk browsing true crime documentaries on Netflix when Dean burst in his room without knocking.
“Would you appreciate it if I barged into your room like that?” Sam asked flatly, not looking up from the screen.
“We both know that’s an empty threat,” Dean replied without missing a beat. “Not with those delicate sensibilities of yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Sam bristled, “You guys were doing it against the kitchen sink! A man should expect the kitchen to be a safe space!”
“Yes, yes,” Dean nodded vigorously, “he should. But it’s still ill-advised.”
Sam closed the lid of his laptop with a click . “Please, tell me you’ve got the envelope and I can go see my girl and bring home the victory of getting you and Cas to participate?”
“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean dropped the envelope in question on the desk. “Take good care of that for us,” he winked at his brother mischievously. “Cas has already stashed yours in some dusty old book. And hey,” he added in a more serious voice, “tell Eileen thank you?”
“Wait, really?” Sam started, but Dean was already out in the hall.
“Can’t talk, gotta run, Cas says he wants to try new things, and believe me, Sammy, I am gonna deliver!”
“TMI, jerk!” Sam yelled after him, leaning his chair back on two legs to try and catch sight of his older brother.
“Drive safe, bitch!” Dean yelled back from down the hall.
Sam sighed and picked up the blue envelope titled Dean & Cas: 2021 Edition in Castiel’s neat handwriting. The envelope wasn’t sealed properly, and as soon as Sam turned it over in his hands the contents slipped out onto the desk.
“You’re so whipped, Dean,” Sam muttered under his breath picking up the papers. One of the cards fell onto the floor, and as Sam leaned to pick it up, he recognized Dean’s handwriting. Not his finest hour, he would figure later, but the eyes started skimming the text before the brain could actually approve the action.
Hey, Cas. So, we’re talking this time next year, huh? Let’s see. I’m most probably sitting on the couch with you, and we’re in the middle of binge-watching one of those shows you like or watching a documentary. I can’t really tell, because I’m having trouble focusing on what’s going on on the screen. The reason probably being that I have this ring in my pocket, and I keep thinking I should come up with more fitting words. I keep overanalyzing things, wondering if this is even something you might want. And then, we open the envelope, and I’m giving you this little piece of paper, and you start reading it. And I- I can see you frowning in concentration, and it’s been a year since I wrote this, and I still haven’t found the words, because really there are no words to even begin to describe what we have. So- So I take your hand, I kiss your knuckles, and I slip the ring on your finger, and I hope-
Man, I hope I get to spend the rest of my life with you.
With a dopey smile, Sam slipped the card back into the envelope, sealing it carefully. “So whipped,” he repeated quietly, but proudly. 2021 was going to be one for the books.
