Dec 24 & 25, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, You Can't Always Get What You Want Title: You Can't Always Get What You Want Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Charlie, Kevin Rating/Warnings: All ages Disclaimer:here Prompt:this picture and this one Summary: Once Dean's in, he's all in. He just has no idea how to do that. A/N: Title is from this Rolling Stones song.
It was just Dean's luck that last night had gone the way it had. Not that he was complaining. It was just that there was no time to upgrade Cas' Christmas gift to where it really kind of needed to be after a night like that.
Keeping busy making everybody pancakes and eggs and bacon and every other breakfasty thing they had on hand was either really helping him not obsess over it or else was a super obvious case of overcompensating, but either way, nobody seemed to be complaining. Even better, Cas volunteered to do the dishes, which bought Dean a little more time to try and come up with something.
A quick trip to the archives unfortunately proved that while the Men of Letters might have stored every damn thing they came across, they hadn't specifically logged anything under “Christmas gift for the angel you just admitted to being in love with.” What few things he did find filed under “angels” and “Enochian” were actually more like things Dean wanted to keep far, far away from Cas, unless he needed them for protection against his brothers and sisters. Not exactly a subject he wanted Cas dwelling on today.
Ducking into his room for a sec before rejoining the others, Dean finally found his inspiration. There was no time for fancy wrapping or anything, but that was going to have to be okay. He just hoped Cas would understand.
“Where've you been?” Sam asked. “Everybody's chomping at the bit out here.”
“Just a little last-minute shopping.” Dean grinned.
Sam gave him a look but didn't ask any more questions.
The next several minutes were a flurry of paper being torn, ribbons being stuck in people's hair, and “oohs” and “ahhs” and “thank yous” with Tracker fetching balls of wrapping paper as they were tossed aside. If nobody understood why Sam teared up over a couple of magazines and some shaving cream or why Dean absolutely did not come anywhere near doing the same over some motor oil and a candy bar, well, that was just fine with Dean. Some traditions didn't need to make sense.
When Cas handed Dean a shiny box that fit into the palm of his hand, Dean felt his heart stop. There were a few things he could think of that might be in a box about that size, and he wasn't ready to deal with any of them, especially not with witnesses. Some corner of his mind suggested that maybe he was wrong about that, and that it would, in fact, be awesome if the box held any of the things that had just crossed his mind. That corner of his mind could go fuck itself, though, because no. Not yet anyway. When he met Cas' gaze, he was sure the angel could see the panic written not just on his face but etched into his damn soul.
“Just open it, Dean,” Cas said with a nervous little smile.
Right. He could do this. He'd been to Hell and Purgatory and come out … okay, not fine, but he'd survived. He could open a friggin' box. Steeling himself, he tore into the paper and opened the box.
His jaw dropped.
“Cas … where did you … how … when …?” He looked up from the amulet he'd thrown away years ago.
“Does it matter?” Cas asked.
“Not really.” Dean slid the cord over his head and looked down at the pendant. He'd gotten used to being without it since the apocalypse-that-wasn't, but it felt right to have it back again. He smiled. “Thanks, Cas.”
“You're welcome, Dean.”
“Not to break up the staring contest,” Charlie said, “but I think this last one's for you, Castiel.”
Dean glared at the box. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he thought it kind of sucked. Still, nothing to do about it now.
Cas grinned as he opened it, though he looked a little confused. Well, that was sort of the point.
“Movies?” he asked.
“Got to get you up to speed on some things,” Dean said with a forced chuckle.
“Ah, I understand.” Cas's smile brightened. “Thank you, Dean.”
“What was that about last-minute shopping?” Kevin piped up. “I mean, you didn't come back with anything.”
Dean had just about decided he was going to wait until they were alone, but he couldn't for the life of him come up with an excuse to get out of it now. He shot a look at Sam, who just shrugged, and then Charlie, who gave him that look she usually reserved for giving royal commands in Moondor.
“Uh, yeah. Right.” Dean went over to where he'd half-hidden the gift. He decided the towel had been a stupid idea and threw it back down the hall.
“Didn't we have a rule about no weapons on … ow!” Sam turned and glared at Charlie who was giving Dean an encouraging nod.
Squaring his shoulders, Dean walked up to Cas, who was back to looking confused.
“Ugh,” Charlie exclaimed, “if you're going to do it, do it right, Dean.”
With a huff, she got up and walked over to them. She put her hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed down until he got the hint and knelt, eyes on Cas' shoes.
“Just one knee,” she said, “and if you're going for authenticity, it should be the left. Well, maybe the right in this case, but … no, left.”*
Dean adjusted accordingly. He almost resisted when she pulled the axe out of his hand, but all she did was turn it around so the haft was facing Cas, the blade to the floor.
“There,” she said as she stepped away. “Don't think this gets you out of any of your duties in Moondor though.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” he muttered, eyes still downcast.
“Dean,” Cas said, his voice rough, “please look at me.”
Dean looked up to find Cas (no surprise) staring at him but (surprise) not looking at all confused. Dean wasn't sure what that expression was, but he was pretty sure it was a good one.
With a flick of his wrist, Cas slid his angel blade into his hand. Never taking his eyes away from Dean's, he also lowered to his left knee, resting the tip of the blade on the floor and holding the handle towards Dean. Nobody said anything for a long moment.
“What're they doing?” Kevin stage-whispered only to be shushed by Charlie.
“I accept the offer of your weapon as a sign of your loyalty,” Cas said in a tone that suggested he wasn't actually making this up as he went, “and I leave it in your care as a sign of my trust.”
It took Dean a minute to find the breath to reply.
“I, uh, accept the offer of your weapon ...” Dean faltered, but then caught Cas mouthing the words at him. “... as a sign of your loyalty, and I, um, leave it in your care as a sign, ah, of my trust.”
Cas stood gracefully and sheathed his angel blade, making Dean feel like an ox as he heaved himself to his feet and had nowhere to put the axe.
“So,” Charlie asked brightly, “eggnog anyone?”
“Yeah, I'll help with that,” Sam said. After a beat he added, “You too, Kevin.”
Once they were alone, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh ...”
Turns out, he didn't really need to say anything, because Cas cupped a hand behind Dean's head, pulling him into a brain-melting kiss. When Dean gave up and pulled back to catch his breath, he leaned their foreheads together, not wanting to be any further away than he had to.
“Had I made a list of things I would wish to receive today,” Cas said, “this would never have occurred to me. However, I believe what you have given me, and allowed me to give to you, is something I did not even know I needed.”
“Cas,” Dean started, only to have a finger laid over his lips.
“After all we have been through,” the angel continued, “especially everything that axe represents … I am amazed and grateful that we have this.”
Scuffling noises from the kitchen suggested their privacy wasn't going to last much longer, if they weren't being spied on already.
Dean swallowed, and when Cas' finger slipped away, he replied, “You and me both, Cas. You and me both.”
They broke apart as the others poured back into the room. Sam handed a glass of eggnog to Cas and Charlie handed one to Dean. She leaned towards his shoulder, and he bent a bit closer to hear her.
“I switched out the one with the octane level for you. Figured you'd do better with one made for human metabolism.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” he said, “for everything.”
She grinned and walked over to the abandoned box of DVDs. “So, where shall we start the cultural education? Ooh, I know! A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away!”
“How would humans have any record of such events?” Cas asked.
“You're about to find out.” Dean set the axe against the back of the couch and pulled Cas along to sit next to him.
“This isn't the new version, is it?” Kevin asked.
“No way,” Dean said. “Han totally shot first.” He shot Cas a look. “Don't worry. That'll make sense. Eventually.”
“I trust you, Dean,” Cas said with a smile.
Tossing a wink to Charlie, Dean replied, “I know.”