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The buzz of Christmas Morning pulses through Cas's veins; it isn't something he's ever felt before. He's human now. He gets to feel things like this.
He slides out of bed and shuffles over to turn on the lights. Dean makes a noise and rolls over,
"Cas, what'r you doin'?"
Castiel smiles and walks to Dean's side of the bed. He kisses Dean's mussed up hair and whispers, "It's Christmas."
Dean rolls over, eyes still closed, and grins, "You excited?"
"Mmm," Cas plays with Dean's eyelashes, "It's my first time celebrating it."
Dean's eyes blink open and they're a dramatic shade of green in the warm artificial light. "We're in the same boat, then. Me n' Sammy have never really taken the whole day for it, so it should be nice for everyone."
Cas nods at him and gives him a soft kiss on the forehead. He loves Dean when he first wakes up.
Dean starts to get out of bed and Cas takes the opportunity to get dressed. He finds Dean's maroon Henley in their armoire and tugs it over his head.
"Hey. Maybe I wanted to wear that shirt," Dean says, suddenly looping his arms around Cas's waist.
"I guess you'll have to take it off of me, then," Cas smarts back.
Dean joins him in grabbing clothes, selecting his favorite grey sweat pants, "Just woke up and you're already tryna' get me back in bed, huh?"
Cas slides on some athletic shorts, hands Dean a black t-shirt, and kisses him on the cheek. "Pretty much. Let's go get some coffee."
Dean shrugs the shirt on and smooths it out. He takes Cas's face in his hands and smiles, "Merry Christmas, Cas,"
Dean kisses him for a second, and Cas grabs his hand. They separate and Dean looks like he always does when they hold hands: elated and bashful and safe.
Cas grins and shakes his head, "Come on, you loser."
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Sam has already gone for a run and made them breakfast (blueberry pancakes, which are almost as good as Dean's blueberry pancakes).
"So," Sam says, washing their plates, "We gonna open presents?"
Dean looks at Cas, who is pretty much radiating excitement.
"Yeah," Dean responds, "Um, I can make us some eggnog, and then we can."
Sam gives a small smile, "Feels a little odd, doesn't it? Normally we're on a hunt or at Bobby's watching football."
Dean nods and glances at Cas, "Yeah. It's not bad, though. I could get used to it."
"I second that," Sam agrees.
Dean puts brandy in their eggnog even though it's 10:00 am. No one objects, and Cas even smiles at it.
"You know these things are dangerous to me," Cas says. Dean appreciates the figurative language that Cas is finally capable of.
"I'm hoping to have you pleasantly buzzed by noon," Dean says, giving him a healthy wink. Cas punches him on the arm and takes another sip.
They all sit on the floor by their fake, overly-decorated Christmas tree. Dean puts the radio to the holiday station. Sam leans against the couch, Dean sits near him with his legs stretched out, and Cas sits cross-legged opposite them. Six expertly-wrapped presents lie under the tree.
"I reckon Cas goes first," Sam offers, handing Casitel a gift.
Cas smiles and takes the blue box. This one is from Sam, and is fairly large.
Cas bites his lip and Sam can't help but smile at how happy he looks. They all look like he does—weightless and unconfined in this house they call a home with the people they adore.
Cas opens the cardboard box to reveal a collection of fabrics: there's two shirts, some jeans, a scarf, and a leather belt.
"Figured you might want some clothes of your own," Sam grins. Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas looks absolutely thrilled.
"Thank you, Sam. These are--I really like them, thank you," Cas says, voice light and silvery. He holds up a light blue knit sweater and smiles at it.
Sam nods and grins, "No problem, man. Merry Christmas."
Dean hands Cas a silver bag with red tissue paper. Dean's hand goes to the back of his neck, and Cas can tell he's playing with the short, soft hairs there. He's recognized this as a nervous habit, and thinks it's a little bit (or maybe a lot) cute that Dean is nervous about this.
Cas lifts the paper out and finds two items. He pulls out the larger one first: High Quality Mexican Hot Chocolate.
"You know me too well, Winchester," Cas laughs. Ever since Dean made him a cup of the drink two months ago, Cas has been insatiable.
"I figured instead of me making you a cup from scratch every other day, y'know," Dean says.
"Thank you, I'll have to try some later," Cas responds.
He pulls out the next item. Cas can almost feel the care within it. It's a moleskin—a brown one, about the size of Cas's hand. The pages are wavy is a couple places with water stains. The journal is also full; as he thumbs through it Cas realizes every page has Dean's handwriting upon it.
"Probably, um—don't read it now, but...yeah. Look at the first page," Dean's voice is noticeably fragile. Sam smirks and elbows him in the side.
Cas turns the leather flap and reads the familiar lettering:
I know this is a little bit dumb, and that this is about the last thing you'd expect from me, but I think you deserve it. I've been planning this for 200 days (the number of pages in here). It starts right after I realized I loved you, and goes up until, well, yesterday. Every day I wrote something about you, no matter how dumb it is. 200 painfully honest thoughts. I love you, Castiel. Merry Christmas."
Cas's all too human breath catches in his throat. He feels cherished—wholly, untouchably cherished.
"Thank you, Dean, I—I don't even know how to express what this means. This is..."
Dean leans over and kisses him on the cheek, "Love you too, Cas," he whispers. He sits back in his spot and looks just about as happy as he's ever been.
Cas smiles and looks back down, turning the leather over in his palms.
"Alright, you saps, I'm gonna open my gifts," Sam says.
Sam glances upwards and catches the two looking at each other again, and while he wants to make fun of them, he just bites back a grin. This is—by far—the best they've all looked in a year plus. Dean's still got that fucking mark and they're tired as hell but there's a light in their eyes that seems to outshine that other crap. They are happy.
Sam opens the package from Cas while "Deck the Halls" taints the background. It's a pack of six ginger beers—supposedly the spiciest six there are.
"Wow, Cas, thanks. This is really cool," Sam looks at each of the bottles and Cas feels a warmth in his chest. He misses his wings, but God, this almost makes everything worth it.
Sam gets a nice new pair of cowboy boots from Dean.
"They aren't, you know, Grade-A or whatever, but they're real leather," Dean explains.
"No, they're perfect, man."
"Thought the soles in your other ones were a little worn. They're, what, five years old?"
"Yeah," Sam smiles, "Yeah, thanks, these are nice."
Sam gets Dean some beef jerky and a nicer new pair of headphones. Dean grins and approves of their color (pink, to match his iPod).
Cas hands Dean a small black box with careful hands. It's a cube, about five inches tall. Cas doesn't say anything. Sam gives him an assuring nod.
Dean looks at the both of them and then gently lifts the small lid. He pulls out the item by it's gold thread, and marvels at what he sees.
It's a clear glass ornament no larger than a softball. It gleams in the warm Christmas lights. Inside is a simple thing, just one object. It's a slick feather of the color onyx. It's not only black, though—it looks like one of those oil-rainbows in parking lots after it rains. Hints of silver, pink, yellow, blue, and gold cast over the feather as the light breaks through it. Dean gasps softly, realizing what it is.
"Is this...is it yours?"
"Yes...I, um..." Cas takes a breath. Dean looks up at him, "When I fell, I landed in this forest, and my feathers were, well, everywhere. I knew that I couldn't save my wings, but I had to keep just one. It's stayed in my coat for a while, but I figured...I wanted you to know that you mean, just, everything. Enough that I would give you the last part of my true self. I know it's...it's overly sentimental, but—"
"No, no, Cas, you fucking—" Dean rubs his eye and shakes his head, "Sammy, just, look over there," Dean shoves Sam's face the other direction.
Dean rises to his knees and leans over. He kisses Cas—hard—harder than he should with his little brother right there, but he has to. He has to let Cas know what he feels. And maybe he's just all rattled from the sentimentality of the day, but he feels like he needs to kiss Cas like this. Cas is busy smiling but he still kisses back, softy, lovingly. Dean rubs his boyfriend's jaw with his thumb and tries to understand how the fuck he ended up with this.
Sam chuckles, "Okay, you guys are cute and all, but," he says.
Dean flips him off and gives Cas a last brush of his lips. "Merry Christmas, angel. That is the best present ever." His eyes are absolutely sparkling.
Cas smooths down his hair and hums, "Merry Christmas, Dean. We can do this later so your brother doesn't kill us."
Dean nods and grins, sitting back down. He actually offers Sam a little, "Sorry," to which Sam just rolls his eyes.
Dean hangs the ornament on the front of their tree and finishes off his eggnog.
"Pretty fuckin' nice Christmas, if you ask me," Dean says to one one in particular, looking at the tree.
Sam nods, stands, and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder. Cas sneaks behind them and sets a hand on Dean's waist.
"I know I'm not particularly versed In Christmases, but this does seen like one of the best kinds," Cas adds.
Dean turns around and gives Cas a quick kiss on the head.
"Movie time, then?" Sam asks, headed towards the couch.
"Obviously. Cas hasn't even seen A Christmas Story yet," Dean says.
While Sam is distracted with looking through infinite masses of CD's, Dean pulls Cas into a tight hug. He kisses Cas's temple and speaks gently, "I'm so glad you're here, Cas. I don't know how me and Sam have done this for so long without you. Like, you know how much I love Sam. He means the world to me and I'm thankful as hell for him, but you just make it all so much...easier."
Cas lets emotion overcome him. His eyes close and he lets the tears come to fill them, "I don't think I'd still be here without you. You and Sam are everything."
Dean holds his face softly and demands eye contact, "You are so incredible. You're fucking devine. How'd I end up getting to spend Christmas with you? Like, God, you're a wonder."
Cas can feel himself blush, but tries not to, "Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester. Thank you for making humanity feel like a gift, rather than a burden."
"Yeah, Cas," Dean says. He smiles. He brushes a finger over Cas's cheek, "Yeah."