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“Cas…you sure about this? We still have time to turn around and rent a room at the nearest Hamptons for the next three days.” Dean reasoned, nerves getting the better of him as he veered the Impala off the interstate for Cas’ home town. It had started to snow as they drove, which only gave Dean a perfect excuse to drive slower. They were expected by Cas’ family to arrive sometime today—they’d both finished their semester at the beginning of the week, and since Sam was going with Jess to her side of the family for break, Cas had offered Dean to go with him for their week vacation. At first, it had seemed like a good idea, until Cas had urged Dean to wear his only suite for their annual Christmas dinner. Seriously. What family does suites for dinner?
“Dean, you’re over-complicating things again,” Cas reasoned. He reached across the seat, his fingers carding through Dean’s hair effortlessly. It was a habit Cas had picked up not long after they started dating at the start of term, and Dean couldn’t deny that he loved it. Cas’ fingers were warm from the Impala’s rattling heater, and they were gentle against his scalp. It was comforting. “My family knows, I told them after I graduated High School. They won’t look at us any differently.”
“That’s not what worries me…” Dean murmured, which was true. He’d come to terms with being gay, and even if there were stares, and a few odd glares when he and Cas walked hand in hand, he didn’t care; he had Cas, they were happy together, that was all that mattered to him. It was the fact that Cas’ father could afford to send Cas and his other brothers to college without a damn loan, or scholarship—even though Cas had a few because he was so damn smart—while Dean had to wait a year after high school to work at his uncle’s shop to even try and pay for his books.
Cas must have read him like said book, because the next thing Dean knew, he was getting flicked in the ear.
“Ow!” Dean winced.
“You are not worthless.” Cas stated. “Say it with me now—You are not—you’re not saying it—”
“Cas, not for nothing, but you’re family is what we would call upper middle class, whereas my family was barely making it to upper lower class.” Dean muttered. Another flick to the ear, and Dean tried his hardest not to smack Castiel’s hand away from his face.
“Money does not equal self-worth Dean,” Cas told him. “Nor will it change my family’s opinion of you; you are charming, smart, funny—absolutely adorable in the morning after a long night of—”
“Oh you are so not going there while at your father’s house!” Dean barked, feeling the heat rise to his face. Cas laughed.
“You really don’t need to worry Dean,” Cas sighed after his laughing fit was over. “Even if you don’t win over all my brothers, that’s not going to change how I feel about you.” Cas’ fingers were brushing against the edges of Dean’s shirt collar now, and he sighed quietly as they continued to drive.
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Chuck—Cas’ father—was great. He was a writer, turned publisher with his own company that was actually the head of smaller publishing branches across the country, as well as a few bookstores nationwide. Aside from that daunting fact, the guy was a bit dorky—kinda like Cas, and he really liked to bake. There were cookies fresh out of the oven when they arrived, and Chuck was welcoming enough that Dean relaxed several notches before the brothers started to arrive.
Balthazar—the middle son, Cas told him—arrived first, holding two bottles of wine, and with snow in his hair. He’d taken one look at Dean, commented on how his tailor could do wonders for his body—which made Dean blush—and he’d laughed. “Oh relax, I won’t try to steal him away little brother,” Balthazar teased, ruffling Cas’ hair as he wandered into the kitchen. “Fancy a glass Dean?”
“Oh God yes,” Dean groaned.
Lucifer—oh fuck who’d named these kids?—arrived next, the second oldest according to Cas. He’d barely given Dean more than a passing glance, a quick smile that seemed fake, and shook off his coat in the front room. Apparently the snow was getting worse, so they shouldn’t be surprised if the others were delayed.
Dean sipped from his wine glass a bit heavier as Lucifer started talking about his law-firm, Balthazar made mentions of his band—he was in a band? Dean wondered silently, passing a glance towards Cas, who merely smirked. He sat down next to Dean, and with Cas tucked into his arms, warm and a comfort, they next hour went by quick.
Gabriel—only older than Cas by two years—showed up next, with a fruit-cake and a bottle of Vanilla vodka. Dean grinned in relief at that. Because the wine was great, but—finally, hard liquor—and Gabriel noticed. “Hmm, into sweets are we?” Gabriel wondered, glancing at Cas with a raised eyebrow. “Come on to the kitchen Deanie and I’ll fix ya a mean iced shot!”
“Go easy on him Gabbie,” Balthazar warned. “I didn’t spare expense on the wine this year and he’s already downed a glass.”
“Ah, this boy looks like a man who can hold his own,” Gabriel reasoned, tossing an arm over Dean’s shoulder to lead him back into the kitchen. Chuck was a whirlwind as he hooked, making sure the ham was good, there was plenty of stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, and biscuits and—oh my god was that pie? Dean’s mouth started to water, but Gabriel only dragged him past the kitchen’s counter top laden with food and over to the side-counter by the fridge.
There was a shot glass in his hand and Gabriel clicked his with some Christmas cheer. Dean smirked and downed the vodka, smiling at how smooth and sweet the alcohol was. “Not bad right?” Gabriel asked, and Dean nodded in agreement. “So listen, I’m crashing for the night here too. If I hear you guys banging next door, I’m going to record it and play it tomorrow while we all open presents. Got it buckoo?”
Dean was pretty sure his face was pale, and his mouth fell open with a quick remark, but Gabriel’s grave face completely crumbled.
“Oh my God, you actually bought that,” Gabriel laughed. “I’m kidding Dean. Jesus, relax. It’s Christmas!” Gabriel thumped a hand on his back and walked back into the living room. Dean leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, half tempted to pour himself another shot. Cas came wandering into the kitchen then, his half-finished wine glass tucked between his fingers. There was concern and something like a smile on his face as he stood in front of Dean.
“Are you alright?” Cas murmured. “I know Gabriel can be…”
“Oh he’s a character all right,” Dean agreed. He sighed as he closed his eyes, breathing in the deep aromas of the kitchen; honey-glazed ham, baked cookies and pies, sweets and pine. Cas took another step to press a light kiss onto Dean’s forehead, and Dean was given a whiff of wine, mint and Cas’ simple cologne. Those last two were soothing, something that had worked its way into Dean’s life over the past five months and became things Dean took for granted. He leaned forward enough to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder, breathing deeply so the mint and cologne over-powered every other smell.
“Dean,” Cas giggled, and Dean realized his breath was tickling Cas’ neck. Dean breathed deeply, letting it out slowly through his nose, grinning as Cas shivered pleasantly.
“I’d kindly ask that you keep your hands to yourself while here Dean,” A voice spoke behind Castiel, one Dean hadn’t heard yet and Dean jumped. Cas stepped aside to reveal a dark-haired man Dean could only take to be Michael—the oldest brother. His eyes were dark and sharp as he dropped a basket onto the dining room table.
“Michael…” Castiel chided gently, but another sharp glare from Michael silenced whatever protest Cas was going to put up.
“See if Father needs any more help,” Michael told him, nodding swiftly back towards the kitchen. Castiel rolled his eyes, and thankfully tugged Dean along. He wasn’t sure if he could stand another minute under that intense gaze.
“Jesus your brother is scary.” Dean murmured once Michael wandered back into the living room.
“Michael?” Chuck figured. “Oh, his bark is worse than his bite. He’ll warm up to you eventually. Here, you can take the potatoes to the table, Cas grab the gravy and the cranberry sauce. I’ll get the ham out and we’ll be all set!”
Dinner, despite the animosity earlier, wasn’t exactly terrible. Dean sat sandwiched between Cas on his left and Gabriel on his right; Michael, Balthazar and Lucifer sat opposite them with Chuck at the head of the table. The conversation was light, bouncing mostly between Gabriel, Balthazar and Chuck; a few times, one of the brothers questioned Cas about school—how were his classes, did he do well this term, what were his plans for next term—Gabriel asked the same for Dean, and smirked when Dean explained getting into engineering full time.
“Oh?” Gabriel wondered.
“Yea, I mean the school has a great tech program, especially for mechanics,” Dean explained. “Which was what I wanted in the first place, but uh…I did a lot of mechanic work in the year before I got into the school, so…there’s not much I don’t know. If I’m going to school, might as well study something new right?”
“That’s not a terrible philosophy,” Balthazar admitted, nodding in agreement. “And engineering can get you far.”
“Always working with your hands though,” Gabriel added.
“It’s what I do best,” Dean admitted, and only realized his fatal mistake when Gabriel broke out in a lurid grin.
“That so Cassy?” Gabriel wondered.
“Gabriel, not at the table.” Michael chided as both young boys blushed, and Balthazar merely chuckled.
“Well, it wouldn’t quite be Christmas dinner without the suggestive comments now would it?” Lucifer wondered, elbow leaning on the table as he glanced down the way at Michael. Surprisingly, Michael’s lip turned upwards in a small smile.
“No, I suppose not.”
Dean felt Cas’ foot tap his softly under the table, and he glanced over to find Cas practically grinning at him. Although, the tips of his ears were still red, and the flush was only now starting to disappear from his neck. But hey, if Cas could stand the teasing, than so could Dean.