#spnadventcalendar2020

[hitori-alouette]

SPN Advent Calendar Day 18: Lights

Dean and Cas are not very good at putting the lights on the tree, they keep getting distracted.

DON'T REPOST

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: christmas curse.

"It could be worse." Sam repeats, and Cas nods.

A killing spree, loss of memory, hallucinations — take your pick. Relative to the scale of havoc they'd seen witches wreak in their day, this was mild. Harmless.

Funny.

"Dashing through the snow." Dean lets out morosely, as if in reluctant agreement, while Sam's restraint suffers a little more. That seems to annoy Dean further, and he glares at his brother. "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas!"

That's probably supposed to be a profanity, but Sam doubles over laughing.

Dean flips him off, and chooses to ignore Sam by turning to Cas with a look in his eyes tragic enough to invoke real compassion in the angel's heart. He wishes he could help, of course, but spells either wear off, or are reversed by the witch (arguably more often, the murder of the witch). And he knows Dean knows he can't help either, so a sympathetic nod has to suffice.

And in any case, even in all his billions of years, Cas has never seen a curse like this.

Dean can only speak in carols.

Trust the Winchesters to irk the most creative witches into hexing them with the most obscure curses for Christmas.

"On the first day of Christmas," Dean starts, voice questioning. Cas squints, paying even closer attention than usual — although, to be fair, conversations with Dean usually involve more focus on intonation than words, in regards to things he means and often doesn't say. "My true love sent to me?"

"A partridge in a pear tree." Sam completes immediately, looking extremely pleased with himself. In his defense, had their positions been swapped, Dean would almost certainly have been more obnoxious about it.

"I think," Cas interrupts, right before Dean could start to curse at Sam inevitably in another carol. "He means what do we do now?"

Dean nods, focus snapped back to Cas. "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer!"

Cas narrows his eyes. "He's saying I'm right."

"What, you speak caroltongue now?" Sam blinks, surprised.

"No, Sam. I speak Dean." Cas answers sincerely, before turning his eyes to Dean again. "And I'm an angel. I may not be able to read minds anymore, but maybe it's enough for me to still translate for him."

"Here comes Santa Claus?"

"Yeah." Cas nods, earnest. And turning to Sam, "That was just a 'yeah?'"

Sam looks like he wants to say something but then he changes his mind. "Okay. Okay, fine. So Dean speaks in carols, and you translate. Cool. Now," he bites his lip, as if it pains him that they're inching closer to the end of this ordeal, and turns to Dean. "Who did this to you?" They'd been in the middle of taking down a coven.

"Make the Yule-tide gay."

"The greyhaired witch." Cas says, not missing a beat.

Sam looks like he might not be done laughing yet. "The one in the sequins dress who called you, and I quote, a choirboy Scrooge?"

"Joy to the World."

"Sam, he's calling you a bitch."

"Say, Cas, what's carolspeak for jerk?" Sam snickers, and Cas tilts his head because he'd only just specified he couldn't translate like that.

"Here comes Santa Claus." Dean grouses, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Yeah, again?" Sam looks at Cas.

"No, I believe this time it means go to hell." Cas tells him thoughtfully, and Sam rolls his eyes, leaving him wondering how the same phrase could mean such different things in this strange language, but then that certainly isn't the only thing not making sense right now, so he decides to let it go.

*

Hunting down the witch is easy enough, and they nab a chance to confront her after less than three hours of stakeout — where once, in between, they almost got caught because Sam couldn't stop laughing at Dean's remorseful "Santa Baby" when he spilled cheese on his shirt — but everything works out in the end, and Sam's made to swear he won't laugh, and Dean's made to promise that he won't call Sam names in disguised carols, and then they're off to take down Greta, the greyhaired witch.

(Dean nudges Cas to stay behind him when they're about to barge in. At least, he vaguely pieces together that that's what Dean meant to say.

"All I Want for Christmas is You." Is what he ends up saying though, slapping a hand over his mouth the moment the words have come out, flushing red.

Cas falters, and while he wouldn't have listened to Dean's (ridiculous) instruction anyway, he isn't even sure it registers.

"Get a room." Sam mutters eventually, either minutes or aeons later, and they're pulled back to reality with Dean snapping a, "Silent Night!" At Sam, vicious enough to not need Cas's participation to be understood.)

Ultimately, the witch is easy to deal with.

As expected, because Cas has finally learned to anticipate moral greyness in even the villains the Winchesters come up against, she asks for a pass to leave in return of returning Dean's speaking abilities, but she promises to not cause harm (just as she never has before, she swears, and Sam and Dean eye her suspiciously but finally believe her) and stay out of covens of the sort, and that's that.

Dean's vocabulary is restored, which he chooses to test by swearing under his breath, and sagging when it comes out as it should, instead of a verse from Twelve Days Of Christmas.

And since Cas agrees that "6 Geese a Laying" doesn't quite have the same impact as "Son of a bitch", he squeezes Dean's shoulder in reassurance when the latter sighs.

They're okay.

*

On their way back to the Impala, the church bells ring, reminding them of Christmas once more.

Cas turns to find Dean looking at him, a strange swell of emotions in his eyes, which he hasn't pieced together yet when Dean leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

It's just a brush of lips, chaste, almost traditional, but Cas can feel his face heating up uncharacteristically, and Dean's turning red again when he whispers, "Merry Christmas, Cas," so maybe there's more to it than it looks like, like with most things between them.

"Don't you mean," Sam grins, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes dancing. "We wish you a Merry Christmas?"

And just like that, Dean's snapping out of the almost-trance, and taking off after his brother with curses on his lips that finally don't come worded as carols anymore, although Sam laughs as gleefully as if they still are, easily keeping ahead of Dean to the latter's extreme annoyance, and Cas shakes his head, because they're ridiculous —

But they're his family.

And that means everything, he knows now, and knows that he wouldn't change any of it for the world, so it's a merry Christmas after all.

[dcforts]

[day 8: “there is no need for mistletoe.”]

“Are you guys decent?” comes Sam’s voice from the other side of their door.

“Yes,” is Cas’ reply, at the same time Dean says, “No.”

Sam pushes the door open anyway, saying “I’m trusting Cas’ common sense – “ but judging from the way his face falls he regrets it immediately.

The place is a mess - clothes, bottles and the pizza boxes he himself delivered to their room the night before cover every surface - and they are only half covered by their blankets. Cas is propped against the headboard, his hair wild and Dean’s head on his chest.

Dean is vaguely aware that it’s the afternoon but has no idea what time or for how long they’ve been in this position. There have been naps and kisses and more naps and he’s feeling too relax to have a care in the world.

He snorts softly at the look on his brother’s face.

“And that’s what you get for it, Sammy,” he says, with a lazy smirk.

Sam blushes and grumbles, “Yeah, thanks a lot, Cas,” and fixes his eyes on the wall, “Just wanted to say that if you think you’re able to get out of here, Eileen and I are going to the Christmas market out of town. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” is Dean’s reply. “It’s cold and we’re kinda living our best lives right here.”

Sam winces, “Gross. Whatever. Just – if you wanna join us, we’re leaving in twenty,” he says. He may add something else but Cas has started dragging his fingers up and down Dean’s arm so he has stopped paying attention.

Only when he hears Cas’s mellow voice saying, “Thank you Sam, we’ll think about it” he realizes that the door has been closed again. 

“We will?”

Cas kisses the top of his head.

*

Against all odds, they somehow manage to untangle their limbs and stay apart long enough to get dressed. Cas does most of the work, throwing back at him pieces of clothings he finds around the room, and unsuccessfully tries to coax him into wearing a hat.

Eileen shows her surprise when she sees them standing at the entrance.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“We’ve been busy,” says Dean and Cas is so close that it seems such a shame not to lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth when it quirks up.

Eileen rolls her eyes and signs something to Sam that makes him laugh, then says, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Dean doesn’t care enough to ask. He misses his blankets already. But at least Sam’s driving, so he can snuggle with Cas in the backseat and chase the warmth that he left behind.

*

They’ve set up the market in a street closed to the traffic and now in the cold and dark surroudings there’s a bright concentration of life and lights.

“You should have worn a hat,” says Cas as they are queuing for their tickets.

“We’re not getting into this again,” he says, wondering why there are so many people around them. Maybe it’s a Sunday, “You know what day it is?”

Cas shrugs. They look at each other for a moment then they both stifle a laugh.

Dean tries to focus on where they are and what they’re doing, but his thoughts are drown out by the lights and the Christmas songs coming from the nearby speakers, and there’s a spot under Cas’ ear that his eyes keep going back to that just begs to be kissed.

He can’t help it.

Cas tries to wiggle away and pulls down his hat.

“Sam said we need to behave,” he says, with a little grin.

“Don’t care,” says Dean, still with his nose pressed against his skin, and meets no resistance when he moves to find his mouth.

Sam chooses that moment to look over his shoulder, “I’ve got – oh, I’m regretting this already,” Dean hears him muttering as he turns around again.

*

Entering the Christmas market is like stepping into a dream. There are twinkling lights hanging above them and the vendors’ booths on each side are covered in fake snow and all sorts of festive decorations – each offering local products and handcrafted knick-knacks.

Dean doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to one of these things. Knowing that he’s there just to let go and enjoy it fills him with an excitement that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

A guy in a reindeer costume gives Cas a silver garland that he wears around his neck and they stroll down the street, pulling each other by the hand.

Sam and Eileen are a few feet ahead resolutely avoiding them because “they’re embarassing”.

Whatever. It’s easy not to lose them in the crowd when your brother towers over everyone else. He grabs their attention from time to time, waving and pointing at the booths he and Eileen intend to check out.

Dean, on the other hand, is more content to follow the smell of roasted chestnuts and candied nuts. Cas gets a bag of the latter and Dean gets to kiss the sugar from his lips and it kinda makes it up for the effort it took to go out.

From there it’s a beeline for the mulled wine booth. The drink is stronger than Dean thought and he feels light and warm in no time. He thinks he hears himself singing Joy to the World and then he doesn’t know how but all of the sudden he’s wearing Cas’ hat.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he stops in his track and points at his head, “I never agreed to this.”

“You did,” Cas laughs.

“Whe-?” he tries to say, but Cas is leaning in for another kiss and Dean decides that it doesn’t really matter.

They finally catch up with Sam and Eileen as they are about to buy a wreath with red bows and pine-cones and bells.

Eileen takes a look at them approaching and taps Sam’s shoulder to say, amused, “We shouldn’t have left them alone.”

She signs something else and Dean recognizes ‘drunk’.

"Now, this is what I call a wreath," says Dean, pointing at the biggest one on display with lights, baubles and red berries. “Sammy, we’re getting that one, right?”

“We already chose this one.”

The vendor behind the booth follows their exchange with a smile and cuts in to say, “If you buy two I’ll throw in a sprig of mistletoe.”

“No,” shouts out Sam, and then laughs embarassed, holding up one hand, “Sorry. Sorry, thank you, but - believe me. There’s no need for mistletoe at our house,” he says, pointing a thumb at the two of them. “Actually, it’s like our ceiling is made of mistletoe.”

Dean shrugs and Cas smiles, circling his waist and pecking his cheek.

“I like the one with the pop corn,” he says against his skin and Dean feels tingling from head to toe.

“We’re taking them all,” he says, vigorously slapping Sam on the back.

Sam gives a pointed look at the vendor as if to say. “See what we put up with?”, then sighs and opens up his wallet.

*

Cas is still a little wobbly on his feet as they make their way to their car.

They insist they barely had a drink, but Sam says he saw them swaying and apologizing to a pole they ended up bumping against so he’s not sure he believes them.

Dean is feeling great.

“Thank you for the wreath, Sam,” Cas says, as they fall in step with them.

Sam huffs a laugh and grabs his shoulder to steady him.

“You’re welcome, Cas. Did you have fun?”

"I had a great time."

“That’s great. If you think you can give the world beyond your room a chance again tomorrow, we’re thinking of going to a Christmas tree farm a couple of hours from here.”

"Yeah, I don’t think we can do that, Sammy,” cuts in Dean seriously, from the other side. He pauses for effect then adds, “Cas is too hot. May start a fire in there."

Sam groans and mouths “Oh my god,” as he quickens his pace to get away from them.

“This is the worst case of lovebird phase I’ve ever seen,” Eileen says shaking her head and following him into the car.

Dean snorts and slips an arm around Cas’ neck to pull his face closer.

“What is she talking about?” he asks, grinning.

Cas grins back, “I have no idea,” he says, before meeting his mouth halfway.

Sam from the car blasts the horn at them.

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

[unfamiliar-reference]

When Dean laughs Cas’ wings become iridiscent and tremble.

For @notfunnydean‘s Supernatural Advent Calendar 2020 - Day 2: Wings

[elgreytea]

It’s in the Knowing (that Wishes Come True)

destiel december 2020 prompt: sledding + spn advent calendar 2020 prompt: wishes wc: ~1.4k

[READ ON AO3] 

“Dean, you had,” Sam huffs, “infinite possibilities at your disposal. And you wished for–for this?”

Dean’s a little confused, too, looking out at the mountains. Almost every inch is covered with a layer of snow, but by far, the hill they’re standing on has the thickest blanket. Dean’s feet sink into it a little when he shifts his weight, studying their surroundings.

Apart from the clearing they’re in, the place is littered with trees. Dean’s gaze follows the trunks up, until he’s looking at the sky, which is quickly losing light. He thinks he can make out the beginning twinkles of constellations, and when he laughs, a puff of frosty breath obscures them for a moment before fading off.

Then he smells it—something like firewood, he thinks, and turns towards it. Eyes still searching the tops of the trees, Dean catches sight of a thin column of smoke, likely from a cabin nearby.

A few feet away from them, a tree branch packed with snow loses its hold, and the whump of the snow hitting the ground startles Dean out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know, man,” Dean says, “It’s not like I really had a choice. I just, you know, just had this thought, I guess, and now…we’re here.”

He turns back to Sam, who focuses on Dean once more, seemingly having caught sight of the smoke too.

“I’m assuming…those have something to do with it?”

Dean’s eyes follow the direction Sam’s finger is pointing to, which is a somewhere on the ground and behind Dean, off to his left. Just at the edge of the hill sit two sleds—the old, wooden kind that seem like they’re always one good bump away from splintering into a million pieces, but somehow never do.

He chuckles, moving towards them to check them out, when Sam urgently pats his shoulder. Dean swivels around, taking in Sam’s confused—but not shocked—expression, and once more tracks his stare to see what he’s looking at. 

Dean finds himself mirroring his brother, but otherwise smiling despite himself.

“What took you so long?” He hears himself say, feels Sam looking at him weird in response. If this was his “wish,” then this only made sense—it’d just been a matter of waiting for him to show up.

Cas levels him with a stare that says ‘really?’ and Dean moves to meet him half way.

“Jackets,” Cas says, handing Dean a thick black one that looks like it’s meant for snow. Dean takes it. “And Jack,” Cas adds. With a gentle tilt of his head, Dean looks over and sees Jack, not too far away, walking briskly towards them with something small in his hands.

“You two always come out here practically naked,” Cas says, leaving Dean and handing Sam his own jacket. “And the lumberjack outfits are fine for when it’s any other season, but you do realize it’s the dead of winter, right?”

“Well, you…” Dean starts, about to tell him off for the dress shoes and trench coat he’s never seen without, except that Cas isn’t wearing them, he’s…

“Cas, is that—are those—are you wearing boots?” Sam asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice.

Cas looks down, frowning. “These are my snow boots. Dean got them for me last Christmas.” He shoots Dean a confused glance, as though Dean should be in on this, and Sam was the one acting deluded. Dean can’t really bring himself to care, too busy smiling at the rest of Cas’ outfit.

He’s about to comment on the snow pants, which are black and baggy over Cas’ lower half, but Jack makes it to them just in time, pushing something into Cas’ chest.

“You forgot your beanie,” Jack explains, and then looking up at them, “I thought you guys came out ahead of us so you could ‘get the sleds ready.’ Cas and I started on the cookies so they should be done by the time we get back.”

Dean watches Cas slip the beanie on, losing his breath a little at the sight. The thought occurs to him—when he’s looking long enough to notice Cas’ red nose and ears and cheeks—that angels don’t usually get cold.

“Hang on—you left the oven on unattended?” Sam says. Pulling his eyes away from Cas, Dean chuckles at the wild look on Sam’s face, like he’s half ready to bolt for the cabin to stop it from catching fire.

“Of course not.” Jack frowns at him like he should know better. “I charmed it with the spell you taught me. It’ll shut off automatically when it’s done.”

Sam relaxes, forcing a smile. “Right. Uh, Dean? Can we talk for a second?”

Dean follows him around to the nearest tree, which is far enough away that Jack and Cas probably won’t hear them over their own conversation (Dean thinks he hears something about hot chocolate) if they talk quietly enough.

“We can’t stay here,” Sam says, “We have to find a way out.”

Dean wets his lips, “I know, Sammy, but…” He looks over at Jack and Cas.

Sam is quiet for a second before he notes, “You want to stay.”

He shrugs. “Just…just for a little while longer. We can–we can go sledding, eh? We haven’t done that since we were kids! And then—then we can figure out a way out of here.”

Sam has a look of growing concern on his face, something Dean thinks is teetering too close to pity.

“What?” He jokes, “You’re telling me you don’t wanna see those two sled? It’s not for us, Sam, it’s for the nerdy angels over there.”

His brother manages a smile, which is a relief. “Sure,” he says gently. Dean pretends not to hear it, heading now for the sleds and waving them all over.

He pulls the sleds apart, placing them each by the hill’s edge, but not so close that sitting on them would be enough to send them flying down the slope.

“Okay,” Dean starts, “How do we want to do this?”

Dean knows the answer before anyone says it. Better stated: he knows his wish before anyone else does.

“The logical route would be to pair up,” Cas says seriously, “You and Sam have done this before, so each of you gets a sled.”

Dean feels his chest go tight with anticipation for a second, and then it subsides. He nods.

“Good idea. Who—”

“I’ll go with Jack,” Sam interrupts, a wry smile on his face. Dean quirks his lips in a smile, cocking his head to the side in a mild ‘screw you’ gesture to his brother. He turns to Cas.

“Well, hop on then Louise and we’ll sail off this cliff together,” Dean says. He waits for the recognition to spark in Cas’ eyes and he smiles—for real this time—as Cas situates himself in the front of the sled. He spares Jack and Sam a glance, amused at how Sam is struggling not to take up most of the sled with his legs, before sitting down behind Cas. 

And he stays like that for a moment, sitting awkwardly and gathering his courage, until he musters up enough to wrap his legs around him.

“I’m nervous,” he hears Jack say. Dean thinks, Me too. Sam laughs and reassures Jack that it’ll be fine.

“Okay, uh, you’re gonna have to lean back once we kick off, alright?” Dean instructs, trying to remember how to do this. 

“You promise I won’t fall?” 

Dean swallows. “Nah. I’ll hang on to you.”

“Let’s race,” Sam says. He can feel him staring and avoids Sam’s gaze. He’ll blame the tint on his cheeks and ears on the cold, if Sam ever asks. 

Dean scoffs, “You’ll lose.”

“Prove it,” Sam responds, and then he’s pushing off and leaving them in the dust.

Dean’s surprised by the laugh that escapes him, and then he’s pushing off too, and he and Cas are propelled down the snowy slope after the others.

Cas leans back as instructed. Dean’s pretty sure the guy can feel the rush of his heartbeat with his back on Dean’s chest like that, but Dean can also feel Cas’ steel grips on his legs, nails digging into his shins. 

He laces an arm around Cas’ chest, pressing him closer. “I’ve got you!” he reminds him. 

There’s a beat, and then over the sound of the wind whipping against their faces, Cas says, “I know.”

-

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[helianthus21]

Day 13: Poinsettia

part of @bend-me-shape-me​‘s #SPNAdventCalendar2020

“Let’s hurry,” Dean says, his breath made visible by the cold as they walk. “I’m freezing, man.” 

They’re already packed with bags filled with christmas presents and Dean clearly just wants to head straight back to their car but as they pass a little florist stall, Cas feels too drawn to the rows of lively green and red to appease Dean’s haste. He stops to look at a little poinsettia whose red leaves seem to be flaming more ardently than those of its peers. 

Ignoring Dean’s pointed groan beside him, Cas pets the leaves affectionately.

“You know, there is a Mexican legend around poinsettias which explains their association with Christmas,” Cas offers. “According to this legend, there was a girl who was too poor to afford a nice present for the birth of Christ. An angel came to her, then, and told her to collect weeds from the roadside as a gift. So she brought them to the church, and when she placed them by the altar, they grew into this,” he points at the star-shaped plant. “The Flor de Nochebuena.”

It means the value of a present isn’t in the monetary. It’s in the giver’s intention. Cas thinks it’s a rather beautiful tale.

He looks back up at Dean, who’s now staring pensively at the plant. From the corners of his eyes, Cas notes the florist watching them, amused.

Dean picks up the plant and looks at it from all sides before squinting over at Cas. “Huh,” he makes. “That’s a dumb thing to do if you ask me,” he decides.

Taken aback, Cas frowns at him. “How so?”

Dean shrugs. “Girl meets a real-life angel and puts her present on a cold church floor?” Clicking his tongue, Dean thrusts the plant at Cas’ chest with a smirk. “Me? I would’ve given it to the angel.”

Dumbfounded, Cas accepts the plant and watches Dean toss the florist the accurate amount of money. 

Cas’ gaze falls down to the plant, then back to Dean. “I– thank you!” He says softly, still so very unused to Dean’s random displays of affection. 

With a wink, Dean pulls Cas close with the arm free of christmas shopping bags and makes to walk again. “You can put it in our room. Gonna look livelier that way.” 

Cas nods, letting himself enjoy the warmth spreading in his chest at the casual way Dean says ‘our room’ these days. “I’ll take good care of it,” he promises. 

Dean blinks down at him, looks at him in that special way of his that always makes Cas feel like he really sees him, and smiles softly. “Yeah, I know you will.”

[notfunnydean]

SPN ADVENT CALENDAR 2020

What is the spn advent calendar?

It’s just like the Inktober. One prompt for each day

It’s for ART and FANFICS (or both if you feel like it :D) Or whaaatever you want to do!

Rules:

Well there are not really ‘rules’. This is more to help you all :D

There is a prompt for each day before christmas, that you can fullfill.

we’re starting on december 1st. See you then ❤️️

Every ship is allowed BUT it doesn’t have to be a ship either.  Do what you want!

You don’t have to do every day, just do what you can and want :)

just tag it as #spnadventcalendar2020 so i can see it or @ me

What’s in for you?

Well fun obviously! :D

you explore other beautiful drawings and fics

every art / fic will get reblogged by me. ( Please write me, if you feel like i ignored it! - Sometimes Tumblr hates me)

THAT’S IT! GO AND HAVE FUN!

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Mistletoe

[prompt #8: “there is no need for mistletoe.”]

Cas already warned him beforehand that he would spend his day decorating the house for Christmas, so Dean seriously isn't surprised in the slightest by the onslaught of green and red and bright lights everywhere when he comes back home after work.

However, he didn't expect all that mistletoe.

Hanging basically in every single doorway.

Dean shakes his head in fond exasperation and joins Cas in the kitchen where he's just about to position the 500th mistletoe right over the fridge.

“You've been busy, huh?” Dean greets his husband with a chuckle. “Looks like Christmas puked all over the place.”

Cas shoots a look over his shoulder. “As always you have a special way with words.”

“I aim to please, honey.”

“Unfortunately I'm well aware.”

Dean grins at the guy's dry dead-pan tone and watches him carefully descending the ladder after finishing up with his decoration.

“What's with all the mistletoe, though?” Dean wonders. “There's no need for that.”

Cas shrugs. “It's tradition.”

Dean chuckles and dives right in, pressing a hard kiss onto his husband's lips.

“There. Is. No. Need. For. Mistletoe,” he emphasizes every single word intently. “I'll kiss you all over the house, for free. Promise.”

Cas laughs quietly as Dean smacks an overly exaggerated kiss against his cheek. “Dean –”

“I'm pretty sure I mentioned that in our wedding vows somewhere,” Dean mumbles, nuzzling Cas' temple and reveling in the warm sensation.

“Don't worry, Dean, I remember that,” Cas answers in amusement. “The mistletoe isn't meant for you and me anyway.”

Dean lifts his brow in surprise. “Oh?”

“Do you remember lots of our friends coming over this weekend for game night?” Cas asks. “Including Sam and Eileen?”

OH.

Now Dean is getting it.

“They need all the help they can get,” Cas points out, sighing deeply. “If this mistletoe infested house won't force Sam to finally get his moves on and kiss her I'm officially all out of ideas.”

Dean grins brightly and yanks his husband into a tight embrace. “My little meddler, you.”

Cas smirks. “I also aim to please.”

And so Dean finds himself once again helpless against the pull constantly radiating from that gorgeous man in his arms and a moment later they're making out again, not giving a damn whether they're standing underneath a mistletoe or not.

And when only three days later at game night, after a lot of blushing and stammering, Eileen finally has enough and drags a flustered Sam into a heartfelt kiss right at the front door, Cas smiles smugly in the background and stays that way for the rest of the evening.

+

[written for @bend-me-shape-me‘s SPN Advent Calendar 2020]