#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

[estrel]

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]

[lifblogs]

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 | Phone Calls and Late Night Texts | @bend-me-shape-me

READ ON AO3

With the light of his phone glowing on his face as he lay on his back in his bed in the motel room, Dean bit his lip to try and cover a laugh. God, nope. No use. Cas just happened to send another text, and it was even more hysterical than the one before it.

A strangled noise left Dean, and he rolled onto his side, smothering his face in his pillow. Still, his laugh came out.

A pillow was immediately thrown at him, which made Dean lift his head up and start howling.

“Dude! I’m trying to sleep!” Sam admonished.

Dean just kept laughing, and got out, “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Fuck you, man.”

In the dark, he heard his brother roll over, grumbling at him.

Dean snickered. His phone dinged. He looked at the new text that came in.

God, another picture of an upside-down Christmas tree hanging from the ceiling?

Dean typed out, Dude, those cats r screwed.

…

…

Finally, They certainly won’t be getting to the trees now.

We need 2 get a cat, Dean texted.

You’re allergic, Castiel pointed out almost immediately. Then, he sent a crying cat emoji.

Soon, another picture came in, of yet another tree.

Dean laughed.

“God damn it, Dean! I only have one pillow left, so I’m sure as hell not throwing it at you. Just shut up!”

Dean flipped him off, and he hoped the light of his phone let Sam see it. Yep, he must’ve because Sam returned it with a rather childish whine.

Dean tapped on Cas’ name on his phone, and started dialing him. Sam did throw the other pillow then.

“Hey!”

“Dude, don’t make me get my gun,” Sam said.

“You wouldn’t.”

His ability to see at night had been ruined thanks to his phone, so he couldn’t see what Sam did. But that crisp click was unmistakable.

Cas picked up. “Hello?”

Dean started laughing again, climbed out of bed, shuffled his shoes on, grabbed his coat, and he left.

“Hey, Cas,” he said when he was outside in the cold night. “Dude, where are you finding these pictures?”

“I just found them.”

“They’re hysterical.”

“I’m glad I’m making you laugh.”

Dean grinned, his heart seeming to flutter in his chest. “Yeah, but Sam ain’t.”

A sigh sounded from the other end of the phone. “I should apologize to him.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it right now. He’s already pissed off enough as it is.”

Dean went down the motel steps, and went over to sit on the hood of the Impala. His breath misted in the cool, crisp air. He shivered a little, but if this let him get to talk to Cas, he’d put up with it.

“Babe, you’re gonna be with us for the holidays, right?” Dean asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Dean snorted, and then said, “Maybe we should get Sam an upside-down Christmas tree.”

“Would he like that?”

It was so difficult to not start laughing again at hearing how serious Castiel sounded. Dean, deciding to run with the high feeling acting like a five-year old gave him, gave an affirmative.

“Alright, well, I should let you go,” Cas said. “It’s late. You need sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep when I’m talking to you.”

“Sleep. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir. Bye.”

“Bye.”

After Cas hung up, wanting to make him laugh as well, Dean went and found a hilarious video he was thinking of emailing to Sam. It was of a guy in Florida riding in a bucket, and using a leafblower and an umbrella to maneuver it. He sent it, and then he saw those three dots appear.

DEAN.

Dean cackled, and then sent him a heart. Castiel sent one back, and then, of all things, he sent him the middle-finger emoji.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get my ass to bed,” Dean said.

He heaved himself up, and then went back inside. After settling back down into bed — now missing both pillows seeing as Sam had decided to get his own back and take Dean’s as recompense — he received another text. It was from Cas, of course.

Silence your phone, it said. I’m going to text you in 20 minutes, and if you’re still awake and see it and RESPOND, I’m coming over there.

So, yes, Dean did silence his phone. But he didn’t go to bed. Just waited those twenty minutes, feeling giddy in the dark.

The text arrived as, You’d better be asleep.

Dean sent back, Hey.

A fluttering of wings announced Castiel’s presence almost immediately. Sam fell out of bed.

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

When You Wish (Upon an Angel)

pairing: destiel

rating: G

word count: ~1k

“Do angels ever make wishes?” Dean asks.

The night is clear, and warm, and they’re not in a hurry, so when they found a good turn off on the road they took it. They parked the Impala and are now sitting on the trunk, leaning against the back window, looking at the stars.

“Some do,” Cas says slowly. “The more whimsical ones. Gabriel, obviously. He’s the one who invented wishing on dandelion clocks. Balthazar, if you can believe it. Anna, probably, she was always too fixated on humans.”

Dean bites back a remark at this last. Too fixated on humans? Really, Cas?

After another minute or two of watching the sky in silence, Dean says, “Do you?”

“Of course not,” Cas answers. But it’s too fast and too emphatic a response for Dean to quite believe.

“Okay,” he says. “Me, I wish all the time. It’s mostly been the same wish since I was a kid–that things could be normal, that I didn’t have to fight monsters all the time, that I could have a house and go to school and have friends and a family and not be worried that the kid I made friends with was going to grow fangs and eat me when I turned my back.”

Cas looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side. “You want to go to school?”

“Not–Cas, you’re missing the point. I just–”

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, Cas raises a hand in surrender. “I understand, Dean. I think the term here is ‘teasing,’ is it not?”

Dean gapes at him, then bursts out laughing. Bumping their shoulders together, he says, “Cas, you’re more human every day.”

Cas goes still, and Dean thinks he probably said the wrong thing. Again. As usual.

They settle back into looking at the sky, thinking their own separate thoughts. Dean tries–and fails–to keep his under control. Because even in the warmth of the summer evening he can feel the heat radiating from the angel beside him. And that’s his most common wish now, wished on more shooting stars and eyelashes and birthday candles–which have been more common now that they have the bunker to call home–than any other wish, the deep but ever unspoken desire that Cas could maybe someday love him back. But he doesn’t want to think that here, not now, because Cas can feel his desires, can read his longing like a prayer. And Cas is an angel, holy and set apart, created to care for creation, not to fall in love with one tiny piece of it.

Think about anything else, Dean pleads with himself. Think about vampires. Beheadings. How to kill a werewolf. How to kill a djin. How to stop thinking about the angel you accidentally fell in love with–

“I want it too, you know,” Cas says, breaking into his thoughts. It takes almost a full minute for the meaning of Cas’s words to reach Dean’s brain. And then he doesn’t know what to say.

“You...you want…” Dean says, and he finds he can’t finish. He just lets the words hang there.

There’s a softness around Cas’s eyes that melts Dean’s heart a little. “A normal life. Or as normal as an angel on earth can have. No more following orders, just–” he shrugs his shoulders, and waves, and somehow the small gesture encompasses the entire world. “Just living. Seeing the world for how beautiful it is instead of visiting places because of dangerous supernatural forces.”

“Oh. Yeah, a normal life. Sounds great, Cas. You should be happy.” Dean tries, he really tries, but he knows his voice sounds hollow.

“Maybe in the Bunker,” Cas goes on, “or maybe we can have a little house of our own. Nearby, of course, because we’ll want to be there for Sam. We’ll still help, just not all the time. Maybe he can start up his own network of hunters, or start up the Men of–”

“Did you say we?” Dean interrupts. His whirling brain is trying to catch up.

The smile drops from Cas’s face. “Dean. You said I should be happy.” Tentatively he takes Dean’s hand in his own, then goes on when Dean doesn’t immediately jerk it away. “You couldn’t have meant without...you?”

The relief that floods through Dean, followed quickly by love and joy, almost knocks him over. “Oh, Cas,” he says, then has to say it again, because the first time his voice is choked and raw. “Cas. Cas. I didn’t think…” And then Cas’s arms are around him, exactly as they have been so many times before but somehow completely new.

It’s too much, feeling Cas against him like this, their cheeks pressed together, Cas’s hand moving in small, soothing circles on Dean’s lower back. Dean wants to stay here, just like this, forever, but it’s overwhelming, so he pulls back, looks at Cas’s face in the starlight.

“How–” he starts, but Cas interrupts, somehow knowing the question before Dean even has a chance to find the words.

“Always,” Cas says. “From the time I held your soul, from before I truly knew what it meant to love another being. That’s how long I’ve loved you, Dean.”

For a moment Dean just stares, then he says, “It’s been about that long for me, too, I think. I’m not sure when it turned from ‘that’s one dorky little dude’ to ‘he’s been gone for a few days, I wish he’d come back’ to ‘I can’t imagine my life without him’ to ‘we belong together, he is mine and I am his’...but it did. And it didn’t take very long. Cas, I should have–”

But Cas stops him with a finger to his lips. “Maybe we just needed a little starlight. And to wish upon a star.”

Dean grins. “I thought you didn’t make wishes.”

Grinning back, Cas says, “What can I say, Dean. I’m a renegade angel.” He leans in, lowers his voice, and says, “Sometimes I lie.”

Cas stops Dean’s laughter with a kiss. The first, Dean is sure, of many.

* * * * *

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

Day 9: wishes

[hitori-alouette]

SPN Advent Calendar Day 17: Shooting Star

What do angels wish for? Wrong answers only

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[dcforts]

[day 19: photographs]

Miracle likes Cas right away, from the moment he sees him coming out of the rift, one arm slung over Dean’s shoulders.  

One sniff at his boots, one at the hand tentatively offered seem to be more than enough to convince him. He doesn't even have to pet him once.

Dean can’t blame him honestly and he doesn’t mind sharing the morning cuddles if Miracle still chooses to trail after him in the kitchen when he gets up, keeps him company in the garage and comes running to him if he wants a cuddle.

He spends all his nap times with Cas though. At first, he gets in the habit of falling asleep laying across his feet whenever Cas is sitting down and more than once Dean finds him in uncomfortable positions yet unwilling to move, insisting that he'd rather suffer than bother Miracle.

One time Dean happens to have his phone in his hand so he stops to take a picture with an amused smile, despite the annoyed face Cas makes at the camera.

Then Cas and Miracle start napping together.

In the library, in front of the tv, and some nights on the bed leaving barely any room for Dean to squeeze in next to them and then, when they get to their new place, it happens in the study, on their couch, and still sometimes on the bed but Dean doesn’t need to try and squeeze in next to them anymore cause they got a bigger one.

Dean takes a picture the first time he sees them, because it's the first time and needs to be documented. The second time, they're in a weird position and he wants to show it to Cas later and the third time - well, they just look cute.

On the day they move out he takes a picture of Miracle in front of the bunker’s door. Then they stop for gas and Miracle looks so happy with his head sticking out of the car window that he has to take one there, and then another one in front of their new house and then he finds that he just – can’t stop.

He gets him a rubber chicken that makes a sound the annoys the crap out of Cas. Dean takes a picture of him as it happily chews on it.

Miracle tries to get Dean to play one afternoon, pushing his snout against his hands, scratching at his jeans and resting his head on Dean’s tight, looking up at him. The pleading eyes is what does it. Dean closes his laptop shut to concede defeat and stand up but first he snaps a picture of him.

He wakes from where he's fallen asleep on the couch in Cas’ arms and finds their feet trapped by a heavy furry donut. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table and snaps a picture of him.

It gets – a little out of control, but Dean doesn’t realize it, not until Sam comes around one time and he's scrolling through his phone, saying, “Dude, how many pictures of Miracle have you got?”

A very pregnant Eileen rounds the kitchen table to look over his shoulder and raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says, “you got a problem.”

Dean leans over to snatch it away from his hands. “What are you talking about?" he says, but from just a quick look at his gallery it's pretty clear that she may be right.

There's Miracle. Then Miracle. One of Cas. Miracle and Cas. Miracle sans Cas. He and Cas. Sam and Eileen from when they all went to that restaurant on Saturday. Miracle. Cas. Miracle. Garth holding a plant? A colour palette for the guest room. Three of Miracle that look identical. The tap he's eyeing for their unfinished upstairs bathroom. Miracle again. Miracle as he's running in the park -

He puts his phone down. "It’s Cas, he’s always stealing my phone,” he says lamely, and he knows he doesn’t sound at all convincing so he adds, “And Jack wants me to send him pictures all the time.”

Eileen nods to herself, “God wants my brother in law to text him dog pics,” she says and signs, "Okay cool. Totally normal."

“Whatever. You’ll be worse than me when that one gets out,” he says pointing at Eileen’s belly. She laughs and Dean looks at her to say, “Sam will be one of those that shows pictures of their children to strangers, you know that, right?”

Behind Sam's back she silently signs, "I know," but Sam catches her anyway and bitchfaces them both, betrayed. “I’m not! And - we were talking about Dean and his obsession. I’m surprised you don’t have them framed all around the house.”

Cas chooses that moment to come in from the back door with Miracle in tow. “Not yet,” he says, amused.

Dean doesn’t even bother arguing, all he has eyes for is that fluffy ball running happily towards him, as if they haven’t seen each other less than an hour before. "There he is!" he says with a silly voice that makes Miracle wag his tail more energetically.

He crouches to take his head in his hands, "Did you have a good walk? Yes?” he says as Miracle wiggles like a fish in a net. He frees himself from his hold just to run around the kitchen table and get himself quickly pet by Sam and Eileen before going back to Dean with renewed energy, jumping on him and licking his cheek. Dean scratches behind his ears, “Uncle Sam is jealous cause he's as not photogenic as you. Well, he won’t get the awesome Christmas card we prepared for him this year, will he? He doesn’t deserve it.”

Cas has put away leash and waste bags and he's watching them with a smile. "We need to wash up," he says, so Dean plants a parting kiss on Miracle's snout and says, "Alright, go," but he stays put.

And yet, as soon as Cas says, "Come on, Miracle," he immediatly runs to his side and even anticipates him out of the room.

Dean stands up, throwing his hands in the air, “Can you believe this? He does everything he tells him, I say ‘sit’ and he licks my face.”

Sam and Eileen laugh at him and then Sam gets to his feet.

"We should go, we still need to go to the store," he says as they put their jacket on.

"Thanks for the coffee," signs Eileen, and then asks "Are we still on for Friday?"

"Yeah."

Sam says, "Cool. And if you find that picture I asked you in Miracle's personal photo book send it my way."

Dean flips him off.

"Add me to your dog mailing list," says Eileen when they get to the door and Dean rolls his eyes but gives her a hug and says, "I will."

Sam shouts "Bye Cas," immediatly followed by a "Bye, see you on Friday," coming from the bathroom down the hall.

Dean stays on the door to watch them as they get in the car and drive away.

Then he goes back to the kitchen, turns the radio on, washes up the coffee mugs and starts dinner.

When the timer dings, he turns off the oven, sets the table for two and goes to find Cas.

Sure enough, he's in the bedroom and he's fallen asleep on top of the covers with a hand on Miracle's back and him curled towards him, his head near Cas' shoulder.

Dean stops in his track. Flipping his family off in his mind, he takes out his phone and snaps a picture of the two.

Then carefully, as not to disturb Miracle, he climbs into bed to lay down right on top of Cas.

Cas makes a oof sound when he drops his weight on his chest but one of his arms circles him all the same.

"If you sleep now you're gonna be up all night," Dean says kissing his chin and jaw and any part of his face he can reach.

"Mh," says Cas cracking his eyes open, "you're heavy."

"Dinner is ready."

At that, Miracles lifts his head and his ears perks up, clearly interested in the conversation. He starts wagging his tail. Dean and Cas share an amused smile.

"Just another minute," says Cas.

"Alright," says Dean, planting one last kiss against his cheek, but when he tries to push himself up, Cas doesn't let him go.

He says, "Stay," and Dean doesn't need to hear it twice to collapse down once again. Miracle does the same; Dean closes his eyes and feels his wet nose against his forehead and his breath on his face as he gets comfortable.

"Wait, you meant that for me or Miracle?"

"Both," says Cas, one hand stroking his back, the other on Miracle's head. "Did you take a picture when you came in?"

"No," mumbles Dean, and then after a moment, "Maybe."

Cas huffs a laugh and Dean gets to feel it against his chest. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to match his breath with Cas' under him and Miracle's on his face and that's how he dozes off, smiling.

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

[lyselkatz]

Day 1: calendar

My muse is still away on a hunt but I wanted to support @notfunnydean 's SPN advent calendar so here's a very quick doodle of chibi Dean and Cas doing a photoshoot for a charity calendar.

...☕?

[expectingtofly]

Tradition (or, Two Hunters, a Former Angel, and the God of the Universe Walk into a Kitchen...)

post 15x20, pure fluff. like fwp. fluff without plot. tfw 2.0 bakes xmas cookies together

also on ao3

Day 4 of @bend-me-shape-me‘s SPN Advent Calendar 2020 prompts

“You roll the dough out like this,” Sam said, demonstrating with the rolling pin. He handed it to Jack. “Here, try it.”

Jack flattened out the sugar cookie dough, his tongue stuck out in concentration, and Dean grinned. He glanced at Castiel, who was watching Jack with a small smile on his face. After only a week away, Jack had returned to the bunker, for good this time. And just in time for the holiday season and all its trappings. Dean took no small measure of pride in introducing the new God of the universe, and a former angel (now Dean's boyfriend) to every Christmas tradition, even if he and Sam were pretty hopeless themselves in celebrating the holiday. 

They’d already set up their freshly cut Christmas tree (it took them an hour just to get it through the bunker door and down the stairs), decorated the bunker (Dean couldn’t take two steps without bumping into tinsel), and may have gotten Jack tipsy the other night by accidentally giving him the alcoholic eggnog. Now they were attempting to make Christmas cookies. Dean was cautiously optimistic they’d have better luck with this tradition than the others. 

Once the dough was flattened, they began cutting out shapes and decorating them. Soon trees, stars, gingerbread men, and snowmen covered the flour-dusted kitchen island.

Dean gave a gingerbread man two bulging frosting eyes and a lopsided smile. “What the fuck?” he muttered, seeing the pristine green lines of frosting Castiel had drawn on a tree-shaped cookie. “Of course you’d be good at this.”

“Yours look great, Dean,” Sam said. “Very rustic.” Dean threw flour at him and Sam waved it away, grinning.

“No, Sam’s right,” Castiel said, leaning over with a bag of frosting to give Dean’s gingerbread man a tie and a shirt. “Very unique.” 

Dean shoved him lightly, making one of the lines of the gingerbread man’s shirt wrinkle. “You guys suck.”

“This one is named Arnold,” Jack said, dumping a frightful amount of sprinkles on top of what might’ve been a gingerbread person underneath all the frosting. “They can be friends with your cookie, Dean.”

“You can’t start naming the cookies, kid,” Dean said. “You’re not gonna want to eat them.”

Jack stared at Arnold with some measure of horror and Castiel laughed. The sound made Dean smile. Castiel had been happier in the last few days than in all the years Dean had known him. Watching him, Dean realized he was happier than he’d ever been himself. Catching his eye, Castiel smiled at him, and Dean noticed a dab of frosting on his cheek. Leaning over, he licked it off. 

“What the—?” Sam held a hand up in front of Jack’s eyes. “Gross!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” Dean said, holding up his hands. 

Castiel tried fighting back a smile, then leaned over and kissed Dean. “We’re done,” he promised, pulling away, and Sam rolled his eyes. 

Jack looked down at the mess they’d made and the frosting covering his hands. “This is very unsanitary.”

“All the germs will burn off in the oven,” Dean promised. He helped Jack align the cookies on a pan, making sure none of them got too bent out of shape. Sliding the pan inside the oven, he turned on the light inside. Jack sat down in front of the glass door to watch the cookies bake. Miracle padded to his side and rested his head in his lap.

Sam was looking at his phone, and Dean hit his arm as he went to the sink to wash his hands. “Where’s Eileen?”

“She’ll be here tomorrow,” Sam said, looking not a little disappointed. “She says the highways are really bad.”

“I don’t think Arnold is going to look so good when they come out of the oven,” Jack commented. Dean snorted and Castiel elbowed him in the side.

The oven timer beeped and Sam took the pan out of the oven. He set it down on the island with a frown. “Hmm.”

Snowmen warped into blobs, Christmas trees with frosting stuck to the pan. Dean tried not to laugh at the misshapen cookies on the pan, but each one was worse than the next and he couldn’t keep it back. 

“They’re so bad,” he managed through his laughter, wiping at his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mine turned out perfectly,” Castiel said. “Jack’s too. Arnold looks great.”

Dean looked at Arnold and burst out laughing again. Sam turned away, trying to hide a smile. 

“I don’t understand,” Jack said, staring mournfully at the colorful monstrosity Arnold had become, spilled out onto the other nearby cookies.

“We’ll make more another day,” Castiel said, somehow keeping a straight face. He nudged Dean and Dean tried to bottle in his laughter.

“Right, yeah.” He tried to stay serious. “No, really, Jack, yours look fine. I mean, look at the ones I made. They’re a mess.”

Jack studied the cookies, then looked up at him and slowly smiled. “We’re really bad at this, aren't we?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. 

“The point is we made them,” Castiel said. “It’s the act of creation that makes them so special.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “What he means is,” Dean plucked one of the better looking cookies off the pan, “all that matters is that they taste good.” 

They settled in the Dean Cave to watch The Grinch—Jack’s first time seeing the movie. Jack cheerfully bit off Arnold’s head, and Dean pulled a blanket around himself and Castiel. Sam glanced at his phone, then got up and rushed out of the room. 

“Where’s he off to?” Dean asked, glancing at Castiel, who shrugged. In a few minutes, footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Sam returned with a wide smile and Eileen in tow. 

“I thought you weren’t getting here until tomorrow,” Dean said, sitting up straighter.

“Surprise,” she said, grinning.

“Eileen, you have to try one of these,” Jack said, holding up the plate of cookies from where he sat on the floor with Miracle. “They’re really good.”

“They taste a lot better than they look,” Sam said and Eileen’s mouth twitched with a smile as she took one.

“What’re we watching?” she asked, sitting next to Sam.

“Not Lost Boys,” Jack said. “Thankfully.”

Dean started to protest and Castiel grabbed the remote from him. “Just start the movie, Dean.”

The Grinch began and Dean settled back, leaning against Castiel. He watched Jack smooth Miracle’s fur with one hand, eating another cookie with the other. Sam and Eileen were huddled on the other end of the couch, signing to each other. Castiel slipped his hand in Dean’s, and Dean smiled. No matter how much they screwed up every holiday tradition, he couldn’t help hope that these activities would become just that—traditions. That they would get to bicker over how best to decorate the tree and make messes of cookies and be together the next year and the next. For the first time, he felt sure they would.

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[helianthus21]

day 24: I’ll be home for Christmas.

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

The sharp pain in Dean’s chest sends his world spinning for a moment, until Cas is there, with a hand to his cheek. Suddenly he feels warmth all over, the healing leaving him energetic and a little weak in the knees at the same time, so he’s very fine with Cas carrying him the rest of the way to Baby.

He lets Cas gently ease him into the backseat and hover over him as though still worried Dean’s gonna slip away from him. 

“Hey,” Dean murmurs, hand coming up to cradle Cas’ cheek. “T’was just a scratch.”

Cas scowls at him. “You’re a menace,” he decides, and it makes Dean chuckle.

“You love me,” he reminds Cas, and really, Cas can’t say anything to that.

Checking his watch, Dean notes it’s already nine. He doesn’t know what Jody had planned for their Christmas dinner, but he doubts they’ll make it in time for any part of it.

“Guess we won’t be ‘making it home for Christmas’,” Cas says, finger quotes firmly in place. 

If they hadn’t been alarmed by wendigo sightings on their way to Jody’s, they’d have long since arrived. That young couple they’d saved would be dead then too, so Dean can’t for the life of him regret it. 

So Dean pulls Cas closer, drapes that angel over him like a sort-of-human blanket and sighs. “I dunno,” he says. “This feels pretty homey to me already.”

Tucking his head under Dean’s chin, Cas nestles against him happily. “Home is where the heart is,” he agrees. His hands are too occupied with embracing Dean’s body to make finger quotes this time but Dean hears them nonetheless. 

“Wouldn’t say it like that.” Dean grins into Cas’ hair. “That’s pretty cheesy, Cas.”

“You kind of said it.”

“Eh.”

“It was heavily implied.”

“Whatever,” Dean concedes, pressing a kiss to Cas’ temple. 

They can still join Sam and the girls tomorrow, for a late Christmas party, he figures. Tonight, he’s pretty content with just snuggling up with his favourite angel. After all, what could be more Christmassy than that.