#sp0okyweek

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

It was only a kiss.

- “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers

 The whole thing started back in October, and for no clear reason.  He was about to leave the bunker for a routine salt and burn, almost relaxed with the strange normality of the situation.  Things had been really quiet recently, so Sam and Castiel were in the library trying to find a case when Dean walked in.

“What’s up,” he asked lightly, raising his eyebrows at the man and angel gathered around the laptop. “Are we trying to figure out how much more hair Sammy needs before we have to start hunting him?”

Sam rolled his eyes and… there it was, Bitchface #42. “We were looking for a case, actually.”

“Did you find anything? I’m bored.”

“Actually, we found a basic haunting, standard salt and burn.  The remains are even on the property, in a marked grave, believe it or not.”

“Sweet!” Dean grinned. “I’m on it.  How far?”

“Valley, Nebraska,” Cas answered, his gravelly voice certainly not sending shivers down Dean’s spine to more interesting places. Certainly not. “Do you want me to join you?”

“Nah, I got it man. Shouldn’t be gone more than a day, day and half tops.”

About fifteen minutes later, after loading everything he needed into the Impala, Dean was checking his room one last time to see if he forgot anything he would need for the trip.  Grabbing an extra box of salt rounds, because why not, he was startled when he turned and nearly ran into the angel standing in his door way.  “Dude, stop sneaking up on me. We talked about this.” About a hundred times, actually.

“Dean, I am concerned about you going to address the ghost on your own,” Cas rumbled. “I – the last time you tried to hunt on your own – “

“I know,” Dean replied softly before clearing his throat. “But Cas, this is one of the first things every hunter learns to take care of.  After Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, dying a few times, and several Apocalypses, I think I can handle one restless spirit.  It isn’t even a poltergeist, dude.  Just a crying ghost.  No biggie.” Against his better judgment, he grabbed Cas’s face and made those vibrant blue eyes meet his. “I’ll be fine.  And I even promise to pray to you when I see the first sign of trouble, okay?” Cas looked down and nodded.  Dean sighed at the sight of the distressed angel, then ruffled his hair, dropped a brief kiss to his chapped lips, and walked to the garage.

He was half way to Valley, Nebraska, before he realized he had kissed Cas.   Pulling into the first gas station he came to, he threw Baby into park and started panicking.

He. Kissed. Cas.

He kissed Cas.

He kissed Cas.

He kissed Cas.

Dean had always been attracted to the black-haired presence in his life, since the first time he saw the shadow of wings against the wall of a barn warded with everything they could bring to bear at the time.  It had taken years for him to come to terms with a being of celestial intent in the body of a devout and profoundly religious man.  Years more of everything they had been through left Dean conflicted, and by the time everything leveled out in his head, he realized that all that struggle didn’t matter – Castiel was, no matter what changes he had been through, an Angel of the Lord, and unlikely to have any interest in any human as more than something to observe and protect.  Like a particularly stupid and self destructive endangered species.

All the effort he put in to keeping himself from fantasizing, touching, reaching out and just giving in… all to be undone by a nonchalant kiss.  Their first kiss. To make it even worse, he had done it like it wasn’t a big deal and walked off. And it should have been a big deal – the biggest deal.

With a groan at how stupid he could be, Dean hit his head on the steering wheel a few times before forcing himself to pull it together.  Nothing could be done now, and maybe Cas didn’t even realize what happened.  Yeah, that was pretty likely.  After all, Cas still wasn’t very good at being people, right? So it was really unlikely that Cas even understood the significance of what Dean had done.

Dean took a couple deep breaths, cranked up the radio, and focused on the ghost he was on his way to crisp, shoving down thoughts of what he had done.

 The case went seamlessly, and Dean was back at the bunker early in the morning a couple days later. He didn’t mention the kiss, and just as he suspected, Cas never said anything about it.   Weeks passed, and soon all of them were at Jody’s for a hearty Thanksgiving meal.  By now, Dean was well practiced at ignoring the glances she made between him and Cas, along with providing the expected snappy comebacks to Alex and Claire when they asked nosy questions that he insisted were way off the mark.  He was just happy to see Claire visibly less tense around the angel who had taken her father away from her; she gradually had gotten better about it only after she found out that Jimmy Novak’s soul had already moved on.

Finally, December came around, causing Sam to get overly excited – just like he did every year – about the idea of finally having a Christmas of their own.  One without an awful hotel room, or a hunt, or Santa trying to kill them.  Dean gave him a hard time, but secretly was almost as excited as his brother.  Not about the holiday, of course, but seeing in the gigantic killer of the supernatural (heir to the throne of Hell, Lucifer’s former favorite suit, etc) the same excitement most people saw in wide-eyed children.

In the end, the bunker had not one but three Christmas trees, decked and lit within an inch of collapsing.  The place smelled like a cross between a forest and a bakery with all the evergreen and cinnamon Sam had managed to stuff in and on every available surface.  Cas got in on the action when he discovered hot chocolate, claiming it reminded him of Gabriel. They even somehow ended up with a tiny little village, with each house lit up and buried in fake snow.  

It was only when the mistletoe started appearing that Dean decided he was revoking Sam’s Pinterest privileges.  Dean had been walking into the library just as Cas was leaving, and suddenly they both were stuck in the doorway, something that should never have happened since the door was more than wide enough for both Winchester brothers to pass through without trouble. They weren’t even touching each other, they were just – stuck.

Well, this was awkward.

Dean cleared his throat. “Um, Cas? Why are we stuck?” When he glanced over at the trench-coated angel, he saw blue eyes squinting up at the top of the door.  Following the glance, it turned out that the scowl was directed at a small bunch of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

“It appears it has been spelled to trap the two people who walk beneath it.  I’m not entirely sure what that would accomplish, however.”

Swearing vigorously, the older Winchester immediately knew who was behind this. “SAMMY! Get your ass in here right now and take this stupid weed down!”

Thumping footsteps preceded the arrival of Sam, sliding to a stop in his socks, face full of glee. “Finally! It took me forever to hang that stuff anywhere I thought you two would get caught!”

“Not funny, Sammy. Take it down, now.”

“No way.  I paid Rowena entirely too much to put the enchantments on those, I’m leaving you there until you free yourselves.”

“Rowena is in on this?”

“Oh, totally. Everyone’s tired of this little dance you two have going on.  And I do mean everyone.  Even the demons we’ve encountered recently have mentioned it.” Sam pointed back and forth between his brother and the angel.

“Samuel,” Cas growled. “Where did you find the holy oil that she used to bind angels with this spell?”

“Not telling.  I may need it again if you two don’t pull your heads out of your asses.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sam. Just tell us how to get out of this? You said we can free ourselves. How?”

“Dude, it’s mistletoe. One guess.”

“You want me to kiss Cas? That’s gross, dude.” He immediately felt sick to his stomach as the words left his lips.

“If you find kissing me so repugnant, why did you kiss me before?” Cas asked, pain and confusion evident in his voice.

“You kissed him before!? When!?”

“It was kind of an accident – shut up, Sam – kind of. It was before I went for that salt and burn in Nebraska, and Cas was upset that I would get hurt, or die again, and I told him I’d be fine, and – I just kissed him.  Like, to reassure him, I guess? Why am I even telling you this!?”

“We added a truth spell. Like I said, tired. Of. Your. Shit.” More emphatic pointing.

“Truth spell means Dean does find the idea of kissing me ‘gross’ as he said,” Castiel pointed out mournfully.

“Dude, no, that’s not what I meant, Cas. I meant Sam wanting us to kiss is gross.  He’s my brother, he should definitely not have opinions about that.  I do want to kiss you, I have for a while – damn this – “

Dean’s swearing was cut off completely by two hands on his face and two chapped lips crushed against his own.  Surprised, he didn’t react at first, but when he realized what was happening, all he could think was fuck it before pulling the angel to him and giving in to the kiss with every fiber of his being.  It was everything he ever wanted, and better than he could ever imagine as he felt not just the man in his arms, but the flicker of grace against his soul. Sunlight and whiskey and electricity, all poured into one moment.

He had no clue how much time passed before he pulled back for air.  “Three cheers for the pizza man,” he murmured, panting slightly and dizzy from lack of oxygen.  When he looked over, Sam was standing there, phone out and tapping on the screen. Still holding tightly to Cas, who was nuzzling his neck and shoulder, it took a moment to put more words together. “Sammy, what are you doing?”

“Finally! I would have said get a room, but it was my fault you were standing there.  Everyone sends their congratulations, by the way,” the taller man replied with a cheeky grin.

“Wait, what?”

Sam waggled his phone at Dean. “Everyone knew about this, and they wanted photos for proof.”

“You took photos!? I’m gonna kill you!”

“Dean,” a purring voice came from his neck. Oh, hey, Cas was still there.  That was nice at least. “Let it go. We have more important things to worry about.”

Turning to look at the mop of messy black hair, Dean went into panic-mode. “What do you mean?”

“You are going to follow me, and we are going to be very busy for the next several days.  I would like to experience human bonding with you, and I think you are going to have to teach me quite a bit.”

Ignoring the disgusted yelps coming from the general direction of one Sam Winchester, Dean flushed hotly. “I thought sex with humans was about the same as bestiality to angels… That’s why I never… I don’t want you to think I’m disgusting for this…”

“I rebuilt this body, atom by atom. I agonized over the placement of every freckle and every eyelash. Balthazar was quite vexed with my fixation on your eyes being the exactly right shade of green.  You will never be disgusting to me, Dean.  You are the most beautiful of my Father’s creations.”

Tears threatened Dean’s eyes at the words he was hearing. He was prepared to be told that he wasn’t good enough.  He spent his entire life not being good enough.  But hearing Castiel, Angel of Thursday, former God tell him he was perfect? There was no way to prepare for that.

His thoughts were interrupted by the third person present. “So, yeah.  I’m gonna go for a while.  It sounds like you two have a lot to – ahem – talk about.  Kitchen’s stocked, stay out of my room please.”

“Sam – “ he called plaintively at his brother’s retreating back.

Sam turned and just smiled. “Consider this a Christmas gift, Dean.  Merry Christmas, stay out of my room.”

Dean smiled back weakly as he felt Castiel take his hand. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”