Chapter Text
"Do me a favor and grab another nail?" Dean asked, pointing to a small box sitting on the hood of the Impala.
Cas acquired said box and brought it back over with him. He carefully picked out a nail and handed it to Dean, who was a few rungs up on a ladder, leaned against the cabin. The man's response was unclear in his focus as he returned to his task.
From the ground, Cas admired him. Dusk was falling ever so slowly. As the minutes ticked by, the angle of the sun brought out brighter, more golden shades of Dean's hair; something Cas hadn't noticed until far too recently. The typical open flannel and t-shirt were layered with jackets, one canvas and one leather. Even through three sets of long sleeves, Cas found himself drawn to the movement of Dean's arms, their diligence and strength. It was a shame they were covered.
Not long ago, they had discussed the existence of seasons here in Heaven. Cas could not understand the desire for change in this way when everything could be perfect at all times. Why cope with the inconveniences of temperature and weather in the first place? Jack didn't have a sufficient or succinct answer, he simply knew it was what had to be done.
"It's part of the human experience," Dean had explained that evening. Cozied up in bed, belly full of food he no longer needed, laying down for a night of rest he also didn't require anymore. "Things change as the year goes on, and you change with it. Picnics in the spring, beach vacation for the summer, long walks during the fall, building snowmen once winter comes around. Y'know, normal people stuff."
"'Normal people stuff,'" Cas repeated curiously.
"Yeah. And we - Sam and I - weren't 'normal,' sure, but it was still a part of life. Switching out the wardrobe, finding the motels with the nice heaters. Gas station hot chocolate when we felt like treating ourselves. There's… there are good memories of it all. Never got one decent Christmas, but hell if I wasn't a little excited every year when the first snow of the season happened. Just somethin' about it."
Cas hummed in understanding, though he couldn't quite fully grasp it. When Dean continued, his voice was far softer, more wistful.
"And maybe… maybe we get all that here so we can finally have a chance at it - at 'normal' stuff. Maybe it's so we can bundle up and drink cider in front of the fire like a damn Hallmark movie, because we never got to do that before."
A beat of silence passed between them.
"You want those things."
"Yeah," Dean whispered, as if speaking too loudly would destroy the very possibility of any of this. "Yeah, Cas, I do."
Pulling Dean closer into his chest, Cas had said, "Tell me."
Cas had a feeling Dean had never shared those dreams with anyone, let alone acted upon them. So when Dean woke up this morning with a timid smile and a simple request, Cas grinned back with an, "Anything you want." Now he watched as his love - his human, his world, his Dean - hung twinkling multicolor lights from the eaves of his roof. Sometimes Dean's shirt rode up a little bit, revealing the skin right above his waistband. Cas wanted to touch and hold because he always did. Now, more than ever, knowing how much the season and its traditions meant to Dean, Cas wanted to grab him and experience the humanity of it all. He could practically feel the press of his warm hands on Dean's cold hips, cradling him, heating him up from the inside—
"Cas?"
The angel blinked once, harshly.
"Yes?" he replied.
"How's it look?"
"'It?'"
"The lights," Dean elaborated.
"Oh," Cas answered, blushing. "They look wonderful, of course."
With a roll of his eyes, Dean ribbed, "You ain't even paying attention."
The warmth in Cas's face grew and spread rather quickly.
"I am trying."
"'Trying,' huh?"
Dean stepped slowly down the ladder, a smirk curling his lips. His abundant jackets rustled with each swing of his arms, interrupted only by the steady click of boots on the deck. It took every ounce of Cas's control not to lunge at him.
"Gettin' distracted, angel?"
"You are distracting," Cas murmured back.
They were within arms' reach of each other, now, and Dean was moving painstakingly to close that gap. Ever the tease.
Dean whispered, "I could say the same thing about you."
His fingers trailed up the front of Cas's shirt, toying with the buttons. He grabbed the tie hung loosely on the angel's neck and wrapped it around his hand, dragging Cas in, in, in. Cas let himself be pulled along until they were toe-to-toe. Their slight difference in height became more obvious this close. A breath caught in Cas's throat, the need to look up somehow intoxicating.
"I love you," he sighed.
That smile - Dean's smile was a sight he wished to behold for eternity. So small, gentle, endearing, and Cas trembled for it.
"Cas, sweets," Dean muttered through the mere inches between them, "I love you, too."
Their lips finally met, soft and familiar in their movement. Icy fingertips danced over the nape of Cas's neck; he shivered in spite of himself, because that was the human reaction, one that had become so easy for him. Dean tasted of peppermint and coffee, both unbearable to Cas on their own but delectable coming from the man's mouth. When his own hands traveled to Dean's waist, he found himself agitated by the excess of layers. Too many things in the way, too much between him and his love, not enough contact. Leather squeaked as Cas dug his fingers into that outermost jacket with frustration. He tore away, speaking low and gravelly against Dean's lips.
"Off. Please."
Dean chuckled. The sound reverberated through Cas's chest, and all he did was want. Cas wanted nearer, warmer, needier, more.
"It's too cold, angel. And I haven't finished putting up lights yet."
"You do not have to," Cas argued, almost petulant.
"Obviously not. I want to."
With an exasperated breath, Cas fell forward, leaning his forehead on Dean's shoulder. His hands burrowed under that damned canvas jacket - the blue one that Dean said reminded him of the deepest shades in Cas's eyes. Half-hearted irritation bled into the angel's voice when he spoke.
"Could you not simply imagine the lights onto the house?"
Another laugh, this time into his hair.
"That isn't the point," Dean said.
"Tell me."
"The point?"
Cas nodded, still pressed into Dean's shoulder. Arms snaked around his torso, fingers clasped behind his back, pulling him ever closer. Yes, Cas wanted to understand - he always adored these small lessons in humanity - but he mostly did not want to separate from Dean quite yet. His request appeared to be doing the job.
"There's something to it - the process, not the picture-perfect decorations or the shiny lights," Dean explained. "Spending time out here with you, in the cold, really feeling everything. It's another reminder that we're… free. When I step back, I get to say, 'I did that. I've never done this before.' I put that little bit of work in, y'know? It'll be sparkly and exciting, like winter, like Christmas. Makes me feel accomplished, or something, I guess."
The longing sort of sorrow in his tone was heart-wrenching. Dean wanted to see a home lit up in multicolor. He just wanted to be happy, to feel the joy of the season he so often heard about but never experienced himself. Of anyone, any human or angel or being to ever exist, he deserved that. Cas believed fully and surely that Dean Winchester deserved to have what he yearned for, no matter how frivolous, no matter how little Cas understood.
"Okay," the angel replied.
"'Okay'?"
"Okay," Cas repeated. "Take as long as you wish to put up those lights. I will be here, watching, aiding, whatever you need."
Lips to Cas's head, Dean teased, "Way to switch up on me."
Cas eased back until he could just look Dean in the eyes. They stayed pressed together at the chest, arms, belly, knees. Impossibly close, Cas made sure.
"I want you to be happy, Dean. If this makes you happy, then you should be allowed it, and I would love to be by your side for it."
"Cas…"
The single breathy word dwindled, cut off by another languid kiss. This time, Cas felt a tongue part his lips, gentle and inquisitive in its pace. He easily let Dean in, sighing at the suggestion, wanting, wanting, wanting. His palms slid up Dean's flanneled sides to rest just below those unfortunately clothed pecs. Dean groaned, the slightest sound, and it furrowed Cas's brow as he offered his own tongue. He felt it taken once, twice, three times, then Dean was pulling away with spit-shiny and barely swollen lips.
"Thank you," the man whispered.
They grinned at each other. A featherlight breeze blew through a few times, each sending a small tremor through Dean. Cas's instinct was to drag him in, gather him up, carry him inside, plop him in front of the fire.
"You are cold," Cas sufficed.
"I'm alright. I'll be good to finish decorating, at least."
"I know the 'temperature' is not harmful to you here, you will be fine. I just… dislike seeing you in a state of discomfort."
Dean hummed in consideration before answering. "Well, think about it this way: later, when the sun's almost down, I'll come to you shivering…"
He placed a short, pointed kiss on Cas's lips.
"You'll wrap me up nice and tight, bring me inside, light up the fireplace, hold me there."
An involuntary noise - somewhere between a grunt and a needy sigh - burst from Cas's throat.
Wearing a sly smile, Dean continued, "You'll take care of me, won't you, angel? Warm me up, make sure I'm okay."
"Always."
"'Cause you love me."
"I do. I love you."
Their lips pressed together again, close-mouthed and relatively chaste. Even so, Cas shut his eyes, melted into it.
"Can't wait for you to show me," Dean muttered against his angel's mouth. "'Til then, why don't you help me put up these lights, darling?"
And Cas did - he stepped back, retrieved the forgotten box of nails from the ground, and lent a hand. He would do this for hours if it was what Dean wanted.
They gazed up at their work. Some strands of small rainbow bulbs bordered Cas's home, now. It was beautiful in that imperfect, comforting, human way. More gorgeous than the house was the reflection of the lights in Dean's eyes; bright little spots of color shining back at him, blurred by the distance. He couldn't seem to focus on one for long, too enraptured by the glittering shine of each. Cas could watch and watch until everything around them dissolved. Joy looked so stunning on Dean.
The man whispered, voice full of wonder, maybe even disbelief. "'t's pretty."
Not as pretty as you, Cas wanted to say, but he knew he would be met with a sarcastic remark and perhaps a glare. Dean wasn't one for such a blatant compliment, obviously. He would call it 'gross' and 'mushy.'
"It is," Cas replied instead. "You did a wonderful job."
Though he couldn't see it, he felt Dean's skin heat with a blush. It was one of those things his grace picked up on so easily now that he didn't have to search for it.
"Thanks for the help. And the, y'know, putting up with my— my weird asks. I mean, c'mon, Christmas lights? Dumb. Yet here you are," Dean rambled.
"It is not 'dumb.' You wanted to do it, so I did it, too."
"Yeah… okay."
Cas gripped him by the wrist and spun him around. The shock of Dean's cool skin distracted him, just for a moment. Face-to-face, he spoke with conviction, but gently.
"There was no place I would have rather been, honey, than here with you. I will always choose to be where you are, even for something as supposedly trivial as decorating my house."
Dean swallowed, glancing at nothing behind Cas's head before decidedly meeting his eyes. The reflections in them shone a bit brighter through a thin sheen of unshed tears. Cas had no idea they could become more magnificent than they already were.
"'Cause you love me," Dean said, low and soft.
"I do. I love you."
He would never tire of saying it. Of course, Dean couldn't leave well enough alone. The moment must have been too intimate, too emotional; he chuckled, beginning to break the tension.
"Love me enough to indulge me some more?"
Humming and shutting his eyes, Cas leaned up for the offered kiss. Dean's lips were freezing.
"What a silly question," Cas mumbled. "Was I not the one trying to rid you of your clothes earlier?"
"Can't remember. Maybe if we try again, it'll come to me."
Another long, unhurried kiss tempted the angel to let it all happen right then and there. When his hand wandered underneath Dean's shirt, however, Cas was quickly reminded of how cold it was. He slid the fingers of his right hand into Dean's left and tugged on his arm expectantly.
"Inside, bee," Cas sighed.
With a grumble, Dean replied, "Stupid weather. It's not even really winter."
"I thought it was part of the human experience?" teased Cas.
"Yeah, yeah. Now, let's go warm up, or something."
"I like 'or something.'"
Hand-in-hand, they strolled across the deck and to the front door.