The Soul Burns Brighter Than The Sun

Chapter 18: Blockhead

tw's: talk about death, SMUT, wing kink, blood kink (?) ... but only barely.

The night winds down slightly, and people start squishing together on the couch to watch a movie while others try to get settled in for the night. Dean grabs his coat so he can get his and Cas's stuff from the trunk of the Impala. The night air is crisp and snowflakes fall on Dean's shoulders as he makes his way down the drive to his car, hands tucked firmly into his pockets. This morning, Dean packed something else a little extra special for Cas in the trunk, buried in his dufflebag between his boxers and rolled up socks. And now, he's got this piece of paper burning a hole in his jeans pocket.

Dean doesn't exactly know the protocol for giving an angel a Christmas present, especially an angel that is also Dean's kinda-hopefully-permanent-forever-fling.

He's shouldering his bag with Cas's little something extra inside, when Sam's lumberjack mug pops up as Dean's closing the trunk.

"Jesus, Sam. You know better to sneak up on someone like that."

Sam ignores him, shrugging off Dean's rebuke. "I was gonna ask you about Cas."

"What about him?"

"This morning, you were telling me that you wouldn't mind marrying him." Sam reminds him.

Dean shifts. He did say that, yes, but it's not like he wants to talk about it any further with Sam. "Uh, yeah."

Sam nods. "Kay, well. Jody told me that you guys were cozy in the kitchen."

Pressing his lips together, Dean nods.

"So everyone knows now."

Dean inhales through his nose. The winter air stings, but he nods again. "That's uh, the goal. I guess."

"Right, right." Sam agrees. "Good. I'm glad."

Dean blinks. "Is... that it?"

"Yep. Just wanted to make sure you're good with all uh, all that."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean shrugs. "It's not exactly something I'm used to."

Sam claps him on the back. "Well, if it's any consolation. Everyone's happy for you. I think I saw some bets being cashed."

"Oh."

"Surprisingly, I think Claire won the most money."

"That... doesn't surprise me."

"Really?"

"I mean, the betting does. Claire? Not so much. She doesn't miss a thing. Plus, she's like Cas's kid, and she's a lot like me, so."

"Huh." Sam says eloquently. "I guess."

Dean locks the trunk and turns back to the house. He drops his and Cas's stuff in the third guest bedroom on the second floor. He's got no idea how Jody's affording this place on her small town sheriff salary, but he's gonna make sure that she's doing good. Hell, he's got magic credit cards. He should buy her a Costco haul every two weeks at the very least.

Downstairs in the living room, the game night has turned into a sleepy gathering to watch Charlie Brown Christmas. Jack's head lolls sleepily against Cas's shoulder, and Claire and Kaia sit on the other side of Cas. On the floor, Eileen's sitting between Sam's legs, his arms wrapped around her with his back to the edge of the couch. Jody sips a glass of wine in an armchair by herself, but Alex sits on the floor next to her, her head resting against the armchair and Jody's leg.

There's a blanket over the room that Dean's not well familiar with, but as he sees Jack drool over Cas's ugly Christmas sweater, he realizes it's comfort. It's relaxation. A specific kind of nostalgia that only comes during the peaceful kinds of Christmases, when families sit together and nobody fights about politics or work and just... sits together. None of these people are Dean's blood, and yet, Dean's surrounded by family that he never thought he'd have.