Title: Mistletoes - Merry Measure
Author: The Artful Dodger / dodger_sister
Category: Fluff, Humor, Holiday
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas(ish) & Sam
Warnings: Mild language.
Summary: Cas doesn’t get that joke, Dean.
Word Count: 1,395 words.
Date Written: 12/15/14
Disclaimer: SPN is not mine. I wrote this fic, just for fun. It’s the holidays, don’t sue!
Feedback: Bring it. dodger_sister / TheArtofDodger@comcast.net
Author's Notes: Part of my Mistletoes ‘verse, all written as holiday gifts for my Flisties. I wanted to be sure to include Sam in this one too. Dean may be sorry I did. Wasn’t really sure where this was going, but I like how it ended!
Dedication: For matchboximpala, who asked for Dean & Cas, friendship and Dean’s singing! Merry Christmas, babe!
They were in a shopping super center when Cas first heard Dean singing under his breath. Christmas music was playing over the speaker system and Dean was quietly singing along.
“I don’t want a lot for Christmas. I won’t even wish…”
“That sounds very nice, Dean,” Cas said and Dean turned a pleasant shade of red.
“Whatever, thanks,” Dean mumbled, just as Sam rejoined them with an arm full of baby wipes.
(Cas had recently learned that baby wipes were a wise thing to keep in the car when eating a diet of mostly fast food.)
“Let’s get out of here,” Dean said, disgruntled and out of sorts.
They would have probably gotten out of the store must faster if Castiel hadn’t been distracted by the garish display of Christmas décor in the middle of the store. There was a ten-foot tall tree with flashing musical lights and giant shiny ornamental balls and so much glitter tinsel that you could choke a hundred men with it and still have some leftover.
(It wasn’t uncommon for Dean to measure length by the number of men he could choke with the article in question.)
“Humans are very celebratory at Christmas,” Cas remarked, before Dean dragged him away by one arm.
In the checkout aisle they could hear the music over the speakers quite easily and some song about a little Saint Nick, with an upbeat and jazzy tone, caught Cas’ attention.
“I like this Christmas carol,” he said and then turned to Dean. “Do you know this…”
Dean, ever the master of distraction, picked up a mistletoe among the checkout lane’s stacks of candy and decorations and held it high over his head.
“Hey, Cas, look,” Dean said with a smirk.
“It is nice, Dean. Would you like to buy it?”
Dean deflated rather quickly and put the mistletoe back.
Sam just laughed.
Sam was asleep in the backseat, having lost the front seat to Cas - (he had learned how to beat Sam at rock/paper/scissors pretty early on, mostly by not following any of Dean’s advice on the matter) - when Cas turned to Dean and asked, “Why don’t you celebrate Christmas?”
Dean shrugged. “Need a home to decorate. Place to hang your stockings. You know the deal.”
“The Impala is your home,” Cas told him.
Dean pointed a finger at Cas in a most serious manner. “Don’t you decorate my baby,” Dean told him. “Don’t.”
“You are lacking the Christmas spirit,” Cas said with what could only be called a pout.
(Dean couldn’t tell half the time when Cas was being serious or if it was some sort of ex-angel humor or what.)
After a moment of silence, Dean flipped on the radio and found a station that was playing Christmas carols. Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town was rolling quietly out of the Impala’s speakers.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said.
Dean nodded and after another moment, started to sing along.
“You do have a very nice voice, when you are intending to,” Cas told him then.
“Yeah, don’t tell Sam,” Dean said.
(Cas understood that Dean was embarrassed by this, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.)
After a minute Dean went back to singing and Cas listened quietly.
The streets were lined with decorations, some small and tasteful, others loud and boisterous. Inflatable snowmen and sleighs on rooftops and nativity scenes with all the animals surrounding it. White lights on trees and blue stars over houses and flashing colored lights strung tight around porch railings.
Cas didn’t notice at first, when Dean slowed down so that he could observe it all, take it all in.
(Not everything humans did made sense to him, but sense or not, Cas still enjoyed most all of it these days.)
There was a particular house that was strung with thousands of lights. They made shapes of sleighs and reindeers and children ice skating and spelled the words ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ across the front lawn. Dean pulled to the side of the road and let Cas look at it all.
“Hang on,” Dean said and hopped out of the Impala, dashed across the people’s front lawn.
Cas followed him and watched as Dean went and stood directly under a group of lights hanging from a tree in the shape of a mistletoe.
“Cas, check me out!” Dean hollered.
Cas nodded. “It is quite a remarkable sight, isn’t it, Dean?” he said.
In the backseat of the Impala, awake and watching, Sam just laughed.
Dean was sitting at the motel table, cleaning the grunge and slime out of the heels of his boots, when Sam and Cas came back from the store. They were carrying plastic shopping bags and whispering at each other as they walked in.
“Hey there,” Dean said.
(Maybe he didn’t get everything Cas did, but he knew enough to know when his baby brother was up to something, that was for sure.)
“What are you guys doing?” Dean asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” they both said at once and then they laughed like it was the greatest joke ever.
“Whatever it is, I hate you both preemptively,” Dean said and went back to cleaning his boots.
After a moment of fussing about with their purchases, Sam and Cas fell silent. Dean was about to look up and see what those jackasses were up to, when Cas came and stood by his side.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.
“Hi, Cas,” Dean answered, without looking up.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas said again and this time Dean did look up.
Cas’ hair was sticking up on the top, held together in clump by a barrette shaped like a mistletoe.
Dean snorted. “Very cute, Cas.”
“Sam has explained the joke to me,” Cas said.
“Did he now?” Dean asked and stood up, pushing his chair back out of the way.
“I understand, it’s a prank.”
“Oh no, Cas,” Dean said “I feel very strongly about certain traditions,” he explained in his most serious voice.
Cas jus stared back at him with that stupid barrette in his hair.
(Dean sometimes got unnerved when Cas stared at him, but the guy just looked too fricking adorable with his hair all sticking up like that for Dean to be unnerved at all by this.)
“Tradition is important,” Dean told him and then grabbed Cas by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward.
Dean tugged Cas into a kiss, letting his mouth rest there for just a second, just long enough for Cas to get the idea, before Dean started moving his lips against Cas’ own, applying just the right amount of pressure, letting Cas gasp into it before Dean slipped his tongue in, just a fraction.
And then Dean pulled back, straightened Cas’ shirt and patted the man on the chest.
“Tradition is important,” Dean said again, grinning at his friend.
Cas just stood there, staring at Dean with wide eyes, not moving or even blinking.
“Uh…” Sam said. “You okay there, Cas?”
“Dean is a really good singer!” Cas blurted out.
“What?” Sam asked, puzzled.
“What!” Dean hollered at his friend.
“What?” Cas said meekly, looking down at his shoes.
Nobody said anything for a minute until Dean let out a sigh.
“Damn, dude,” he muttered.
Sam just laughed, then tugged Cas to him and placed a small kiss to his friend’s cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Cas,” he said and Cas let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping forward as he did so.
“Merry Christmas, Sam,” he said.
“Awww, isn’t that special?” Dean cooed at them both.
Sam and Cas looked at each other and then Sam removed the barrette from Cas’ hair.
Then - in a move that Dean would later replay in his head, just to figure out how they’d bested him - Cas grabbed Dean by the arm and while Dean was trying to shove him off, Sam somehow managed to clip the barrette into Dean’s hair.
(Dean would never know how, since he didn’t have that much hair to begin with.)
“Merry Christmas, Dean!” they both shouted at him and then they were kissing him all over his cheeks and Dean was groaning and shoving at them.
(Kissing, they’d say. Slobbering, Dean said).
“Come on, you guys,” Dean whined at them.
“But it’s Christmas!” Cas said against Dean’s ear.
Sam - (that fucker!) - just laughed.