a_taller_tale: (Got Him)
[personal profile] a_taller_tale
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, fluff
Warnings: Unbetad
Word Count: 1376

Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] perfumaniac "Dean cooks Christmas dinner wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron and Cas thinks that is a rule and kisses Dean. Bonus points if Sam and Cas talk about the kiss and Sam convinces Cas to kiss Dean again." (For the ‘Spreading Holiday Cheer Dean/Castiel commentfic meme’.)



They were holed up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota for Christmas this year.

Except for that freak year when they thought Dean was going to hell, Sam and Dean hadn’t really celebrated Christmas together as adults. They sure as hell weren’t going to make that pathetic mess a tradition.

But between drinking heavily and generally being underfoot while they went through Bobby’s massive library, the salty hunter put his foot down (figuratively) and insisted that if the boy’s were going to sit on their asses at his place someone was going to cook a real dinner for the holiday.

When Dean mentioned that Bobby was always on his ass, being in a wheelchair these days, he was strong-armed into one of Bobby’s aprons. Sam couldn’t help snickering.

Bobby had raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be laughin’ boy. Someone’s gotta go out in the snow and get the alcohol. I ain’t doin’ this sober.”

By the time Sam returned from the supply run there was a pretty good smell coming from the kitchen, Bobby was rummaging through a moldy cardboard box labeled ‘XMAS’, and there was a quiet angel standing awkwardly in his usual coat and tie.

Sam blinked and addressed Bobby first. “Are you decorating?” There was a miniature glass Christmas tree on the desk which only lit up halfway and some felt stockings on the fireplace that looked like they were hastily bought at a Walgreens.

Bobby glanced up from untangling a plastic garland, spared Sam a nod, and said wryly. “Traditions are important. I want an extra shot in my eggnog.”

Sam doubted that Bobby hung up stockings and rigged up a Christmas tree for himself every year, but instead of bringing that up, he simply said, “You got it, Bobby.”

He muscled up the various paper bags and headed towards the other room to mix drinks for what was sure to be a strange attempt at Christmas. He could probably do with something extra in the eggnog himself.

When Sam started into the kitchen, Castiel decided to follow him. He and Bobby never had much to talk about, and even an Angel of the Lord could sense the awkwardness. “I have some information for Dean.”

“Well he’s right there.” Sam threw his bags on the counter and went for the cabinets to get some glasses.

Dean turned from where he had been standing over the oven stirring something to see the new arrival. “Hey Cas. What’s up?” He wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of his right hand, which was loosely holding a metal spatula. He looked genuinely pleased to see Castiel, a far cry from the first time the angel had been in this kitchen. “Oh yeah. This a big holiday for you guys, isn’t it?” The apron Dean had on over his shirt was stained with grease and well used. The design on it showed a ladle and a bright red lipstick print.

Castiel frowned. It was a strange custom, but Bobby had just mentioned that they were important to humans and it was the most widely celebrated holiday of the year.

The apron said ‘Kiss the Cook!’, so Castiel did.

It was nothing fancy, just a brush of lips. Dean was frozen under him but didn’t pull away. It was brief.

Sam’s glass and Dean’s spatula hit the floor at the same time with loud crashes that shattered the moment. Dean was wide eyed when Castiel pulled away. “What the hell was that?”

Sam was equally shocked and the angel frowned, looking a little perplexed. “Was that not your Christmas tradition?”

“Christmas? What does k- doing that to me have anything to do with Christmas?” Dean’s face was completely red, but Sam noticed with some surprise that he didn’t look angry.

Castiel was frowning and looking somewhere around Dean’s shin. If Sam didn’t know better, didn’t know that this guy was a completely serious and smiting angel of the lord, he might have thought Castiel was embarrassed.

Sam blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but Castiel took that opportunity to pop away between blinks, leaving the brothers alone in the kitchen.

Bobby interrupted the tense silence from the other room. “You better not break any more of my damn dishes!”

Dean picked up the spatula from the floor and waved it in Sam’s face. “That never happened!”

The incident was filed away in the ‘things to torment Dean about later’ file, because his brother looked partly embarrassed and partly freaked out. “Uh, okay, but you may want to wash that. God knows the last time the floor was cleaned.”

---

By 9 o’clock on Christmas Eve, all three hunters were pleasantly full of ‘not half-bad’ chicken, stuffing, and assorted canned vegetables. Sam’s extra strong eggnog had done a good job of relaxing everyone and they were stretched out on various dusty pieces of furniture in the living room with some beers pretending to watch the football game on the seldomly used television.

Dean shifted for the hundredth time on the couch. He was being extra fidgety and Sam was pretty sure it was because of the kiss earlier. Make that very sure, since he kept looking around and wincing.

Sam finally stretched and grabbed a new beer. Time to investigate. “I’m gonna sit on the porch for awhile.” He received grunts from his brother and Bobby as he grabbed his jacket.

Like he had half expected, he opened the creaky screen door to find a droopy looking angel sitting on the front stoop. “Cas? What are you doing out here?” Sam sat down beside him. The holy messenger looked nothing short of depressed, and really, when an angel was depressed you could only assume something big was going on.

“Did I ruin your Christmas?”

Or not so big.

“What?”

“In my study of humans, tradition seems to be a large part of this holiday.”

“Dude, I think Dean was just shocked that you kissed him.”

“His apron implied…”

Sam blinked. Oh. Oooh. “So that’s why you… Listen, the apron thing is more of a joke than a Christmas thing.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Castiel looking miserable for such a (relatively) small social faux pas. Sam remembered how flustered Dean was, how put out Castiel was now, how the two of them had been having intense eye sex since they met. Sam had an idea.

…What the hell? Why not?

“You know Cas, I think I know a Christmas tradition that might work actually.”

---

Dean was in the kitchen rummaging around for something dessert–like, preferably pie shaped, although there was little hope of that.

Sam had gotten the booze but no pie. On Christmas.

Dean went for another beer instead. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed now, enough that maybe he could forget the scene earlier. Forget that he had just been kissed by an angel. Really, Castiel might be thousands of years old but he was pretty naïve when it came to humans. It was possible he didn’t even know what a kiss between two men would mean. Right? There was no way Cas liked him like that.

His face flushed and he took a long drag of his beer, closing the fridge and turning around to bump right into a rumpled angel in a trench coat.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hey Cas.” Dean swallowed and backed up against the fridge, planning on edging away and escaping to the living room so he wouldn’t be ambushed by the guy’s lips again. That was when he saw the mistletoe in Castiel’s hand, that he was slowly lifting to hang over Dean’s head. “What are you doing?”

Castiel answered in his flat gruff voice, “I’m getting the tradition right.”

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Dean didn’t resist when Castiel leaned in. He didn’t move when Castiel’s warm dry lips brushed against his slowly.

Dean leaned back against the refrigerator and slowly began to respond. He was definitely more skilled in this department than Castiel and pressed back, his arms sliding around Castiel’s jacket.

He felt Cas sigh against his lips before letting Dean take over, and then their kiss under the mistletoe wasn’t so chaste anymore.

The angel forgot to relay the information he had until the next morning.

End.
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