Archive of Our Own

Recipe #1: Pasta with sausage and broccoli

The air in Dean’s house smells sweet, like sugar and peppermints.

“You started without me,” Castiel says as he enters, trying to keep his tone light, but a hint of accusation creeps into his voice.

“No,” Dean protests, as if he isn't actively wiping flour from his palms onto his shirt. “I didn’t start without you, I just… started. I got a different recipe for you today. But if you want to make cookies, we can make cookies.”

The cookies do smell good, but Castiel has learned to follow Dean’s lead in the kitchen. He hasn’t steered him wrong yet.

“Did you come up with an alternative to the pork chops?”

Before Castiel left last week, Dean suggested skillet pork chops for their next cooking lesson.

“It’s a great fall recipe. Simmer ‘em in white wine with apples and onions. Pretty simple, but I know you’ve got some picky eaters at your house—something about bone-in meat?”

“Jack prefers his meat as far from the bone as possible. And Claire doesn’t ‘do’ onions.”

Dean seemed disappointed, but promised to come up with an alternative.

“I did, indeed. How do you feel about pasta?”

“I like pasta.”

“How do you feel about broccoli?”

“It is nutritious, and Jack and Claire are both willing to eat it.”

“Sausage and Parmesan cheese?”

“Protein balances a meal.”

“Get in here and start grating some cheese, then.”

Castiel takes off his coat, and only then does Dean notice what he has brought with him.

“What’s that?”

“An apron. I’ve learned my lesson from last time.”

“Why does it say ‘cat mom’ on it?” Dean asks as Castiel pulls it over his head.

“I borrowed it from my sister. She doesn’t find much time to cook.”

Dean, thankfully, lets it go. Castiel doesn’t particularly care what the apron says; the most important thing about it is that it serves the function of protecting his regular clothes from cooking stains.

He grates the cheese while Dean prepares the sausage, and Castiel appreciates being spared the ordeal of handling slimy uncooked meat, although he knows if he’s ever going to make this recipe on his own he’ll have to suffer through it. It would be preferable if he and Dean could just cook together for all their meals—more efficient, certainly, but there are some obvious logistical barriers.

“You wanna put some music on?”

“I don’t mind the quiet.”

Dean shrugs and hands Castiel a head of broccoli. He lets Castiel choose a knife and and shows him how to cut with it, and they work together, across the table from each other, in companionable silence.

Later, as Castiel mashes the broccoli under Dean’s supervision, Castiel asks,

“If the cookies weren’t for the lesson today, what are they for?”

“Oh, that. Well. Sometimes I bake when I’m stressed.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Sometimes I’m stressed about… not my problems.”

“Ah. Sam is feeling the ‘finals crunch?’”

“Yeah. And I’m not supposed to talk about it with you, so.”

“Then we will change the subject. But I’m sure he will appreciate the cookies.”

“He’ll bitch about all the sugar, then eat like half the batch of peppermint meringues. They’re his favorite. The chocolate chip are for me. Okay, lemme drain the pasta, then we’ll be ready to mix it all together.”

Castiel lets Dean give him most of the food to bring home to Jack and Claire, but the recipe made so much pasta that he insists on leaving some for Dean and Sam.

As Dean dishes the food into two plastic containers, he asks, “Are you guys doing anything for the holidays?”

“I suppose we’ll exchange gifts on Christmas Day. Just the three of us, unless my sister happens to be in town. We’re going to take Claire’s grandmother out for lunch on New Year’s Day, also.”

“Her mom’s mom?”

“Yes. Claire lived with her until this summer when she moved into assisted living. Do you and Sam have plans?”

“Presents, I guess. Sam’s not a huge fan of the holiday. And we don’t have much in the way of decorations. Been trying to dig through some of the crap in the front room to see if there’s anything buried in there, but I think Dad may have thrown all that stuff out after… well.”

Castiel takes some pride in all that Dean has confided in him about his childhood, his father’s shortcomings in the absence of his mother as well as the responsibilities placed on him regarding Sam’s upbringing.

It means that they can communicate using this shorthand, that Dean can talk openly about his life without rehashing the parts that were the hardest. Castiel has tried to open up in similar ways, wanting to show Dean that he trusts him as well. It’s not easy to know what to say, though—his childhood, he thinks, was rather less eventful than Dean’s.

“It could be nice to spend the holiday quietly,” Castiel says. “So much of the Christmas season feels overblown.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I kinda feel like celebrating, I guess. It’s been a pretty good year, actually. Having Sam here, hanging out with you… Things at work have been good, too, can’t complain. First time in a long time I’ve felt that Christmas spirit.”

As Castiel drives back to his house, his mind keeps catching on the way Dean said hanging out with you was one of the best things about his year.

Recipe #2: Chocolate-covered pretzel sticks

Sam comes by Castiel’s office one afternoon to deliver chocolate-covered pretzels.

“The extent of my contribution to Dean’s Christmas cookie madness,” he says, and lays three ziplock bags on Castiel’s desk. They’re labeled with little Christmas stickers, TO JACK, TO CLAIRE, TO CASTIEL, respectively, and all of them FROM SAM W.

“You made them?”

“Just melted white chocolate and drizzled it on pretzel sticks. Then red and green sprinkles. It’s really simple.”

“Jack and Claire will appreciate them all the same, I’m sure. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you, actually. My sister is in town this weekend and wants me to go see a film with her. I was wondering if you could babysit, if you’re not busy.”

“No,” Sam says. “I mean, yes. I’m not busy, and I’d be happy to. Which day?”

“Saturday, from six to nine p.m. The usual rate.”

“Works for me. What movie are you guys gonna see?”

“I have no idea. I usually let her pick these things. There was another matter—I’d like to give your brother a Christmas gift, but I’m not sure what to get him.”

“I don’t know. I don’t really, uh. It’s been awhile since I was home for Christmas. I don’t celebrate. Much.”

Castiel looks at the red-and-green speckled pretzels on the desk in front of him, then back up at Sam.

Sam sighs. “Can I sit?”

Castiel gestures to the empty chair, and Sam folds himself into it. He puts his backpack in his lap, then on the floor. He fiddles with the zipper on his windbreaker.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“When I was a kid, Christmas was my favorite time of year. The rituals of it, the lights, the warmth, the presents. The one time of year we felt like a family, almost like anybody else. Except we weren’t. I don’t know how much Dean has told you, but Dad wasn’t around a lot. And when I was seven or eight years old, when everyone else at school was realizing Santa Claus was their parents, I figured out that Santa at our house was my older brother. He was the one staying up late to decorate, hell, sometimes even to buy presents when Dad forgot. Dragging us all out of bed to open the presents on Christmas morning and eat the breakfast he cooked—for as long as I can remember. Once I realized, I tried to help, but…”

“You were a child.”

“We both were. Now every night I come home from class and he’s talking about the holidays and he’s baking every minute he’s not at work and I don’t know how to tell him I don’t need all that. He can rest.”

Castiel finds it rather charming how much Dean cares for his brother, but that is probably not the appropriate reaction for this situation. “Perhaps now that you’re both adults, you could find a way to share the holiday more equally.”

“I don’t think Dean is ever gonna see me as an adult. And I know none of this answers your question. I think anything you get him, he’d be happy. Dean, uh. Doesn’t make friends easily, but he likes you. That’s kind of a big deal for him. And I’m not supposed to talk about him to you. So I’m gonna shut up now.”

Rather than point out just how much Sam has already shared about Dean, Castiel asks, “What does he think you might say?”

“Something embarrassing,” Sam says with a grin. “Lord knows I’ve got 22 years’ worth of ammunition.”

Recipe #3: Crescent Roll Dinner

There’s a large box on the doorstep when Castiel gets home, addressed to Claire, with a return address for her mother, a different address than the last one he remembers her having. He leaves the box at Claire’s place at the table and hopes it will bring her some joy.

Jack comes home on the bus and zeroes in on the package immediately.

“Did Claire get a Christmas present already?” he asks, standing on tiptoes to read the label on the box.

“I don't know if it’s a Christmas present.”

“If it is, she shouldn’t open it yet.”

“Claire can decide whether to open it when she gets home. How was school today?”

While Castiel grades quizzes at the dining room table, Jack starts on his homework. He finishes it quickly, and watches the door, waiting for Claire to come home on the middle school bus.

At 3:31, he announces, “The bus is late. Can I watch TV?”

“One hour.”

When Claire arrives, barely ten minutes later, Jack doesn’t come running up from the basement, so he must have found a show to get engrossed in. Claire drops her bag on the floor and frowns at the table.

“It may be a Christmas present,” Castiel points out. “Do you want to save it for the 25th?”

She shakes her head, so he brings her the scissors and lets her cut through the tape on the box herself—she glares at him when he tries to help.

“This is all the Christmas stuff from the old house,” Claire says. There are four strings of lights wrapped neatly around cardboard, sheets of plastic window clings in the shape of silvery snowflakes. Snowglobes wrapped in tissue paper, red and green kitchen towels, smaller boxes of shiny round Christmas tree ornaments. “Why did she send me this?”

“I suppose she wants you to have it.”

“She’s really gonna do it, isn't she? She's really selling the house." She picks up a small towel embroidered with candy canes and unfolds it, holding it up in front of her to study it.

“We could go back to visit sometime, if you’d like. Before the sale.”

Claire drops the towel back into the box like it burned her. “No.”

“Should we put that box in the basement?”

“I guess.” She packs everything back into the box and lifts it herself, walking, a little unwieldy, towards the basement stairs but refusing Castiel’s help. At the very least, she lets him hold the door for her.

Jack is downstairs watching PBS. He jumps up when he sees Claire with the box.

“What did you get?”

She sets it down to turn on the storage room light, and he peers underneath the cardboard flaps.

“Hey!” She smacks the box closed and the withdraws his hand hastily.

“Christmas!” Jack exclaims.

“We’re putting it away.”

“It’s not time to put away Christmas decorations, it’s time to take them out. There’s a tree at the library. And at the doctor’s office. Can we get a tree and put Claire’s lights on it?”

“They’re Claire’s lights, to do with as she wishes.” With Claire distracted, Castiel takes the opportunity to help her by lifting the box onto a shelf in the back of the room.

“Claire, can we please put your lights on a Christmas tree?”

“Why do we have to?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

“It’s still Christmas even if we don’t decorate. Santa and Jesus don’t care.”

“But decorating is fun.”

“You heard Castiel. It’s my stuff.”

“But I want the house to look Christmasy when Sam comes.”

Claire whips around to look at Castiel.

“Sam is coming? When?”

Castiel hadn’t told either of them yet; he’d been planning to tell them at dinner tonight. But Jack likes to read the calendar in the kitchen every day when he gets home, so he probably saw it there.

“Saturday night. I’m going to a movie with Anna.”

“You’re going to a movie?” Claire sounds dubious.

“Yes.” To Jack, he says, “We don’t need to use Claire’s box. We have our own decorations, remember?”

“Oh… right.”

Christmas is one of the times of year that Jack’s biological father sometimes shows up to make his brief attempts at parenting, but just as often, Jack is here and he and Castiel put together a last-minute Christmas with whatever they can find in the clearance aisle at the store, or the things left behind in the basement by Castiel’s cousins who had occupied the house previously.

“Can we get a real tree?” Jack asks, poking at the (admittedly rather pathetic) plastic one as Castiel carries it upstairs.

“They’re so messy,” Claire says. “Dad liked them, but it always took Mom like three months to vacuum up all the needles.”

“They smell nice,” Jack argues. “Everly has one at her house even though her cat keeps trying to knock it over.”

In an attempt to defuse the imminent conflict, Castiel suggests, “How about a small one? If we have enough ornaments, we can decorate the natural tree and the plastic one.”

They accept this compromise, and for a little while it seems like they might be able to coexist peacefully. Castiel leaves them to unpack the boxes of decorations, and goes to start dinner. He puts on Anna’s apron and takes out the ingredients. This is one of the first recipes Dean taught him, when he first confided in Dean about wanting to provide Jack and Claire with more home cooking, but not knowing the first thing about it.

It’s easy, because it involves prepackaged dough, deli meat, and frozen vegetables. No tricky measuring, minimal chopping, and not much risk of food poisoning. And it’s popular with the children, because of the dessert component. Jack now believes every meal should include baked apples in cream cheese.

Jack sticks his head in the kitchen as Castiel is laying out the crescent roll dough. “Can we get a present for Sam?” Jack asks.

“What would you like to give him?”

“I don’t know. A book. He likes books.”

Claire pushes past Jack with a bag of Christmas refrigerator magnets. “What, are you gonna give him one of your books?”

“No. We can buy a book with money.”

“What money? Your dad’s money?”

“Claire,” Castiel admonishes. Jack’s expression has gone stony at the mention of his biological father. Claire turns back to her magnets.

Castiel suggests, “Maybe it would be better to make something for Sam. Like a card.”

“A card isn’t a present.”

“A good present is something someone needs,” Claire says. “Something they don’t already have. I bet Sam has lots of books.”

“A dog,” Jack suggests. “I think Sam needs a dog.”

“You can’t just get someone a dog.”

“Well, what can I get him?!”

Castiel slides the baking sheet into the oven, wipes his hands on the apron, sets a timer, and walks over to the children. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“What about Christmas decorations?” Castiel says.

“Sam needs Christmas decorations?”

“I was talking to Sam’s brother the other day and he mentioned that they don’t have many decorations.”

Jack looks over the assortment of objects strewn across the floor. “I like our decorations,” he says uncertainly.

Claire says, “They can have mine.”

Castiel doesn’t ask her if she’s sure. She clearly is.

Jack asks, “What about me?”

“It can be from both of us. It was your idea, after all.”

This seems to satisfy Jack, who returns to arranging a nativity scene on top of the microwave. Claire finishes dressing the magnet-doll Santa and glances over at Castiel.

“Looks like the apron is doing its job, Cat Mom,” she says, and walks away.

Probably she wasn’t being mean. He looks down at the apron and sees that he has a smudge of barbecue sauce on the letter T.

At least it’s not on his tie this time. And it gives him an idea of what to get Dean for Christmas.

After dinner Claire brings the box back upstairs and carefully removes each item. Castiel watches her plug in the first string of lights to test it, then gets distracted by the chirp of his cell phone.

DEAN: I went way overboard on buying baking ingredients. How do you feel about xmas cookies for next week’s lesson?

CAS: I can think of a couple of children who will be delighted.

DEAN: Sorry it’s not dinner

CAS: That’s OK, we'll manage.

When he turns back to Claire she has taken nearly everything out of the box, but whatever is left has caught hold of her attention.

Castiel comes over to look.

At the bottom of the box sits a present—small, wrapped in red paper and tied with a white ribbon in a messy bow.

“Do you want to open it now?”

“I’ll—I’ll save it for Christmas.”

“Okay. I’ll put it away with your other gifts.”

“What other gifts?”

“The ones I got for you.”

“Oh.”

“For you and Jack. We’ll open them on Christmas morning.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“Okay.” She looks uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

She stuffs the small parcel into his hands. “Here.” She turns away and starts returning decorations to the box. He goes upstairs, because all he has to give her right now is privacy.

He wants to text Dean, but he doesn't know what he'd say except—

I was thinking of you.

It's a bit much, even though it's true.

Recipe #4: Jelly pecan strips

“What’s Sam’s brother’s name?” Claire asks.

“What?”

“Sam’s brother’s name,” she repeats impatiently. She has just finished wrapping—with Castiel’s help, which she begrudgingly accepted—the large box full of Christmas decorations, and is now addressing the card that she and Jack made.

“Why?”

“They live together, don’t they? The present should be for both of them.”

“His name is Dean.”

He’s used to them being separate, he realizes. It’s strange, maybe, considering that he has cultivated a relationship with the brother of his wards’ babysitter, so the connection is undeniable, but the time he spends with Dean and the time he spends with the kids are separate.

Dean would probably like them. They would probably like him. But he is reminded of how he felt as a child, not wanting the foods on his plate to touch.

“What time will you be back?” Jack wants to know. “I want you to be here when we give him the present.”

“We could just do it before Castiel goes.”

“No, it should be at the end, so right before he leaves we can be like, surprise! We got you a present! Goodnight!”

“I’ll do my best to get back before your bedtime.”

Over dinner they talk about work; Anna complains a lot but it’s clear she is passionate about her graphic design job. She gives Castiel a hard time for not getting out more. It’s nice to catch up.

Then it’s time to head over to the theater and Anna checks on her phone.

“Wait. It’s not showing at the theater downtown. That’s ridiculous, this movie is important.”

“Why are we just finding this out now? Didn’t you check before?”

“I thought it said… Oh. It’s showing in Dayton. Is that far?”

“It would take nearly an hour to get there.”

“Oh."

“Is there anything else playing that we might enjoy?”

“Um… there’s the new Hobbit movie. Have you seen the first one?”

“What do you think?”

“Okay, okay, forget I asked. What if we just watched a movie at your house? What do you have?”

“We have all the Toy Story movies.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “Hang on, this could be Sam.”

The caller ID reads Dean. It could be Sam-related, though, Castiel reasons. He answers the call.

“Hey, Cas, I literally just remembered that you’ve got your thing tonight—this could have been a text, actually, I'll just—”

“Dean, was there something you wanted to say?”

“I just, we had to swap some shifts around for next week, and I’m not gonna be able to do Wednesday like we planned. Was hoping we could work out another time before Christmas. But it can wait.”

“What are you doing this evening?”

He feels Anna staring at him. She’d been giving him a hard time about not being “spontaneous” enough and now…

“I thought you were… out somewhere?”

“Our movie plans fell through. We were going to go back to the house.”

“Your house.”

“Yes.”

“Where Sam is babysitting.”

“I still plan on paying him for the full evening,” Castiel assures him.

“No—I mean, good, but—your house. Where your kids are.”

“Is that a problem? If you’d rather not—”

“No, I, uh. Want to. You mean, bake Christmas cookies at your house? Tonight.”

“You said you had already bought the ingredients.”

“I mean, yeah.”

“But I understand, it is short notice.”

“It’s cool. I wasn’t doing anything else tonight. I’ll, uh, be over by 7:30?”

“You know where it is?”

“Yes, Cas, I know where it is.”

Castiel suspects that Dean makes a point of knowing the exact locations of all of Sam’s places of employment.

“Then I’ll see you at 7:30.”

Castiel turns back to his sister. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to spring this on you—”

“Never mind that. Was that him?”

“That was Sam’s brother, Dean.”

“Dean. Who’s been teaching you to cook.”

“Yes.”

“And you just invited him to your house to meet your family.”

“Well, he needed to reschedule, and it seemed opportune.”

Anna just looks at him.

“Dean and I, we are friends.”

“But you like him. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

She’s not wrong. But he says, “It’s easier this way. Relationships come with certain expectations. Friendships do not.”

“I know I haven't always totally understood your ace stuff. But you said this was something you wanted. A partner. Don’t get me wrong, friends are great, and it sounds like you guys have a good time as it is. But Castiel, you’re allowed to want more. To want to be happy with someone.”

“I don’t even know if he likes men.”

“Unfortunately that is one of life’s little awkwardnesses faced by those of us who want to date, Castiel. For what it’s worth, I feel like you’d at least have some inkling by now if he was, like, gonna freak out about the gay thing.”

“I don’t want to date.”

“You don’t want to—Christ. Maybe you should just dive right in with a marriage proposal, then. Cut right to the chase. Don’t give me that look. You know this is how it works. What people do.”

“I don’t see why I have to be ‘people.’”

“Well, like it or not, Dean is probably people, even if you prefer not to be. But hey, why don’t we go meet him, then I can tell you what I think?”

In the car, Castiel calls Sam to explain what’s going on.

“If you’d like to stay and help out, I would appreciate it, but I’ll pay you for the evening as we previously discussed either way.”

“Thanks. But I don’t have anywhere else to be, so I can stick around.”

“Very well. Also, Dean is going to come over.”

There’s a pause, then Sam says, “Why?”

“To bake cookies.”

“Is… that what you guys do? Is that why there’s always extra food after you come over?”

“Yes. I thought you knew.”

“You shouldn’t ever assume Dean tells me anything.”

“I apologize. Yes, he’s been teaching me to cook. But he’s going to be busy on our usual day, so I invited him to come over this evening. I hope that’s alright.”

“It’s your house, dude. Uh, Professor.”

The one thing about Dean that has been hardest to parse is his relationship with his brother. There are layers upon layers. Dean’s love and his sense of responsibility and his resentment at Sam for going away after high school. Sam’s guilt and gratitude and independent streak. A bond Castiel never had with any of his own brothers, that seems impenetrable and at times unknowable. He feels an intense affection for Dean and something quite different but still meaningful towards Sam, but they’ve seemed reluctant to share him. To further complicate matters, Sam is currently, and may again be in the future, Castiel’s student. He’s not sure how it will go to try to be friends with them both at the same time.

“We don’t hang out a lot,” Sam says finally. “But it’s OK. It sounds fun. I think. See you in a bit?”

“Yes, we’ll be home soon.”

Anna asks, “What was that?”

“Sam wasn’t aware his brother has been teaching me to cook.”

“They, like, live together, right?”

“Yes.”

"How long have you known these guys again?"

When they arrive at the house, Dean isn’t there yet. It’s rare that Castiel is relieved not to see Dean, but right now it’s probably for the best.

“Does Sam have to go home?” Jack asks as soon as Castiel and Anna are inside. “We’re in the middle of a game.”

“No, Sam can stay for a little while. Sam’s brother Dean is also going to come over and visit.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to bake cookies.”

Jack frowns and turns back to his game, which seems to involve pieces from three different board games, a deck of playing cards, and the figures from the nativity scene.

“Sam, this is Anna, my sister. Anna, this is Sam. He was in one of my classes this fall.”

Sam stands to shake her hand. The greeting is cut short as Jack tugs on his arm.

“It’s your turn.”

Claire lays her cards down and wanders over to the front window.

“Is that his car?” she asks.

“Probably,” Sam says without looking.

There’s a knock at the door a moment later.

Dean is laden with bags; he seems to have brought not only the ingredients but half the equipment in his kitchen. And a plastic container full of chocolate cookies.

“You started without me again,” Castiel says.

“I did not,” Dean replies indignantly, then, when he realizes Castiel was joking, the smile that breaks across his face is luminous.

“Here, I’ll take one of those,” he offers, but as soon as he’s holding the bag, Anna appears at his side and takes it from him. Castiel watches Dean watch her walk down the hall to the kitchen and can’t imagine what is so fascinating about Anna’s—

Oh.

Castiel feels foolish for ever thinking Dean would look at him like that. For imagining he wanted him to.

When Anna is out of sight, Dean turns back to Castiel and his smile is still dazzling. No. It’s just a smile.

“Introduce me?” he says.

Castiel decides to postpone the inevitable by introducing the kids first. Both are watching Dean with unreadable expressions.

“This is Claire,” he says. “That’s Jack.”

Dean waves awkwardly at them. “Hi, guys.”

When Anna returns, he adds, “And this is my sister, Anna.”

Dean does what can only be described as a double-take. “Your sister.” And then, inexplicably, he glares at Sam.

“What?”

“You said Cas was going out.”

“Yes, and he’s back early, in case you didn’t notice.”

Claire giggles.

“On a date.”

“Pretty sure I never said ‘date.’”

“You—” He turns to Castiel. “You two look nothing alike.”

“I’m aware,” Castiel replies stiffly. Anna is biting her lip, holding back laughter. Castiel is trying to make sense of this. Dean thought Anna was his girlfriend? That’s absurd. It’s true that there is very little family resemblance between them, but Dean knew he had a sister. Knew that’s been the main reason for Sam's babysitting. Didn’t he?

“You thought Castiel was on a date?” Claire asks.

“Every time?” Sam adds.

Dean’s blush has reached his ears.

“What’s so funny about that?” Castiel asks Claire.

“I’ve literally never seen you go on a date,” Claire says. To Jack, “Have you?”

Jack shakes his head. He plays a card and moves one of the Wise Men on the Monopoly board.

Dean covers his face with his hands for a moment. Then he emerges, fully composed. “Let’s get started on those cookies. Anyone else wanna help?”

“We’re busy,” Jack tells him.

“I’m not,” Claire says.

“It’s your turn!”

Claire offers her cards to Anna, who seems reluctant to take them. Over Jack’s protests, Sam says, “Why don’t we teach Anna how to play?”

In the kitchen, Castiel asks, “What are we making?”

“Jelly pecan strips.” Dean takes a jar out of one of the bags and puts it in Claire’s hands. “It was my mom’s recipe. I usually do apricot and strawberry, but if y’all have any other kinds of fruit preserves, we could use that, too.”

“Are preserves and jelly the same? We have grape. That’s Jack’s favorite.”

“You wanna try it?”

Claire smiles shyly and gets the grape jelly from the fridge.

“You know what else we need?” she says.

“What?” Dean asks.

“Christmas music. Castiel, can I—thank you,” she adds as Castiel hands her his smartphone, anticipating her question.

“Thought you didn’t like music,” Dean says, because apparently he actually knows nothing at all about Castiel.

“I like it fine.”

“He just doesn’t know anything popular,” Claire says as she fiddles with the phone. “Seriously, try him.”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“Is that a band?”

“You’re killin’ me, man. The Beatles?”

“That is a band. They’re British.”

“Taylor Swift.”

This feels like a trap. “Is that someone who won something recently?”

Dean stares at him.

“Told ya,” Claire says as she presses play on the radio app.

Dean gives Claire the cards with the recipe and lets her read out the ingredients while he and Castiel measure and mix. Once the dough is ready, he shows Claire how to shape it into two long strips on the baking sheet, then spread jelly across each one. He makes Castiel pick the second flavor, so they wind up with one grape and one apricot.

Castiel puts the cookies in the oven while Dean sets the timer and Claire nods along to a song about heartbreak. Castiel fails to see what this topic has to do with Christmas. Dean holds out a hand to Claire and she takes it cautiously. He lifts her arm over her head and spins her around, and she lets out a startled laugh. She offers her other hand and they dance like that, just stepping to the beat.

“I thought you hated this song!” Sam calls from the other room.

“Not tonight, Sammy!” Dean calls back. He spins Claire again, and this time she lets go of his hand, balances on the heel of her sock, and twirls in place until she has to catch herself on the kitchen counter, laughing again.

It’s the happiest Castiel has seen her in the past two years.

Dean turns to Castiel and reaches out. When their hands touch Castiel wants to hold on and not let go. Dean spins him just as he did Claire, though he has to reach a lot higher, since he and Castiel are almost the same height.

The song ends then, before Castiel can find out what Dean might have done next. Castiel steps back, and Dean is smiling faintly as he turns to start on the dishes.

Claire tugs on Castiel’s sleeve. “Can we give them the present now?” she whispers. Dean doesn’t seem to hear, but there’s a clamor in the hallway and Jack skitters into the room.

“Present? Is it time for the present?”

Dean looks over, and Castiel explains, “They got you and Sam a gift.”

“It was going to be for Sam,” Jack says.

“It’s for both of you,” Claire says firmly.

“Why don’t you two go get Sam and Dean’s present?” Castiel suggests to the children.

“Well, this works out great,” Dean says as they run upstairs. “‘Cause I got you something, and I brought it here with me, but I wasn’t sure if I’d get the chance to give it to you.” He rubs the back of his neck. Then he abruptly turns back to the dishes.

Cas excuses himself to the study where he has been storing his gift for Dean. He hears Claire and Jack thundering upstairs and wonders where they wound up hiding Sam’s gift. Hearing the door creak, he turns around, but it’s just Anna.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“It seemed a little like you were running away.”

“I wasn’t running away. I came to get this—it’s for Dean. It’s not even wrapped, though.”

She takes it from him. “I can wrap it. You go play host. This is nice,” she adds, running her fingers over the fabric. “It’ll bring out his eyes.”

“I don’t want to bring out his eyes,” Castiel says, despite the fact he’d had this exact thought when he saw the apron at the store.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they’re very nice eyes.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think it’s me they’re looking at.” Though he’s less sure about that than he was a few minutes ago.

“Castiel. I’d like you to listen to me. As your sister who loves you, but also as someone who has more experience with the way men look at people they’re interested in. That guy came here tonight on fifteen minutes’ notice and he did that to see you.” Castiel looks out the window, and she grabs his hand to make sure she has his attention. “Before you write him off as some loser straight dude who wants to hit on your sister, why don’t you go find out what your cooking BFF got you for Christmas?”

“Fine,” he grits out, and she opens the door and shoves him through it, causing him to nearly crash into the person standing just outside.

“Hey, man, you alright?”

Castiel sidesteps to keep a safe distance between himself and Dean.

“Why do people keep asking me that?”

“Because you look not-alright.”

“Well, I am fine. Anna was helping me look for something.”

Dean considers the closed door. “Well, I was looking for you. Kids are back, and they are itchin’ for Sam to open that box.” He places a hand between Castiel’s shoulder blades and pushes him back towards the dining room. The box is on the table along with a small, shiny-wrapped parcel that must be the gift from Dean.

“Anna will be a minute,” Castiel says, and steps away from Dean as soon as space permits. “She said to start without her.”

“Sam first!” Jack says, and pushes the box toward him.

“It’s for both of you,” Claire says again.

Dean raises his hands placatingly in the general direction of both kids. “Sam can open it.”

The box isn’t terribly easy to unwrap; Jack insisted on tying several ribbons around it once it was covered in paper. Dean goes so far as to offer Sam his Swiss army knife as Sam wrestles with the knots and bows. Sam waves him off and Dean backs away, flashing a grin at Castiel that invites him to share in the joke, whatever the joke may be. Castiel manages a hesitant smile.

Finally Sam gets the paper off and opens the box.

“Castiel said that Dean said that you guys needed Christmas decorations,” Claire explains as Sam stares at the box’s contents.

Sam looks over at Dean, who shrugs.

“I’ve been looking, but I think Dad threw most of the old stuff out.” He claps Castiel on the shoulder. “Thanks for thinking of us.”

While they’re going through the box, Anna slips into the room and presses Dean’s gift into Castiel’s hands. It’s wrapped in the same silver snowflake paper that now lies in shreds beside Sam and Dean's box. “Found it,” she says loudly, and winks at Castiel.

“Who’s that for?” Dean asks.

Castiel presents it to him. “You.”

He takes it, and looks between the package in his hands and the one on the table, which are roughly the same size and shape. “Well. You still gotta open yours first.”

“Why?”

“Uh…”

“Because it was on the table first,” Claire suggests.

Dean points at her. “Exactly.”

“Fine.” Castiel sits at the table and pulls the gift towards himself. Then he watches curiously as Anna steps closer to the table, deliberately placing herself at Castiel’s right. So Dean goes the long way around the table to stand at Castiel’s left. Castiel catches Anna’s eye and she raises her eyebrows at him.

Castiel unwraps his present to find an apron—red and white like a Santa Claus suit. It’s also a little… frilly. He unfolds it and holds it up, then looks to Dean questioningly.

Dean cracks up. “Sorry, man, you just—you’re always talking about the apron thing, and I saw that at the store and just thought it was perfect.”

Castiel's first instinct is defensiveness, but he knows that’s born from paranoia and distrust and that’s not how Dean is. Dean isn’t trying to laugh at him. Right?

“You don't have to wear it,” Dean says, looking nervous all of a sudden.

This is Dean listening to him. Dean thinking about their time together when Castiel is not present.

“Of course I will wear it,” he says, and unfolds it and pulls it over his head. He turns to Dean. “Your turn.”

“Right.” Dean is careful with the paper, tearing directly at the tape and unfolding Anna’s handiwork. The green and brown apron inside is hardly as eye-catching as the one Castiel is currently wearing, but Dean handles it like a treasure.

“Now, perhaps, you will stop wiping flour on your jeans.” Dean looks down at his jeans, covered in white handprints, and Sam cackles.

“Thanks, Cas.”

The timer in the kitchen goes off, so Dean hurriedly pulls the apron over his head and ties it in the back as he walks over to the oven.

Claire is by his side with an oven mitt a moment later, so Castiel stands back and lets the two of them handle it.

Jack tugs his sleeve. “Can we make hot chocolate?”

Recipe #5: Hot Chocolate

Luckily, there are six packets of hot chocolate mix left in the cupboard. While the cookies are cooling, Castiel and Jack heat up milk in the microwave and pour it into mismatched mugs.

“Aw, sweet,” Dean says when Jack hands him a cup. “It’s the kind with the little marshmallows. Thanks, man.”

Jack just blinks at him and then goes to sit at the table with Sam.

The last step for the cookies is icing. Dean makes Claire and Castiel figure this part out themselves from the recipe, mixing sugar, water, oil, and vanilla and drizzling it over the cookies with a big spoon. Once the icing is set, Claire takes her cocoa to the dining room while Castiel stays behind at the counter, slicing the long bars of shortbread into bite-sized strips. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dean step behind him.

“Hold still.”

Castiel glances over his shoulder—Dean is tying the back of his apron in a bow.

“There. Now you’re all ready for baking.”

“Which we just finished.”

“Yeah… maybe we should’ve done presents first.”

“You were excited about the cookies.”

Dean leans against the counter beside him and grins. “Guilty.”

They put the cookies on plates and bring them into the dining room, where Claire and Jack are arguing over whether peppermint or peanut butter flavor is better in the hot chocolate.

“How about both?” Dean suggests, prompting both children to grimace. “Come on, I got a new topic of debate. Grape or apricot? Or,” he stacks together one cookie of each flavor and stuffs them into his mouth, “grapricot?”

Claire laughs and even Jack manages a smile, and they both dig in.

“I think it’s bedtime,” Castiel says.

Everyone seems to have eaten their fill of cookies, and Jack, Sam, and Anna finished their game. While Castiel, Claire, and Dean cleaned up in the kitchen, Jack gave Sam a guided tour of everything on the Christmas tree and has been, for the past few minutes, staring out the kitchen window. Sam asked what he was doing, and Jack said, “Waiting for it to snow.” Anna has been wandering from room to room, checking her phone.

“I’m not tired,” Jack says immediately.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t start getting ready for bed,” Castiel tells him. “That way you’ll—”

“Be ready when you are tired,” Jack finishes for him. “Okay. But I want to read my book.”

Which rather means that he wants a chapter of his book read to him.

“I got it,” Sam says quickly, and follows Jack, who is already halfway up the stairs.

Claire says, “What do we do with the leftovers? If we put them in a regular cookie tin they’ll stick to each other. Then they’ll all be grapricot.”

“Bring me a cookie tin and the roll of wax paper from my bag, and I’ll show you.”

He tears off a sheet of wax paper, then starts laying cookies in the tin, alternating flavors until the bottom of the tin is covered. Then he lays one end of the wax paper on top of them. Holding it steady, he directs Claire to start layering more cookies on top.

“The ones on the bottom will get a little squished, but they’ll stick to the paper, not each other. And I bet you and Jack won’t leave them sitting in the tin for too long,” he adds with a wink.

Claire turns to Castiel.

“Do I have to go to bed now?”

“What do you think?”

She wrinkles her nose, but there’s no heat in her words when she says, “I’ll go brush my teeth.”

In the silence that follows her exit, Anna says, “I’d better get back to the hotel. I have a flight in the morning.”

“You're not staying in town ‘til Christmas?” Dean asks. “Help Cas with those crazy kids?”

“As fun as that sounds, my team is about to start a new project at work. And my cat pines for me.” She subjects Castiel to a one-armed hug and raises her eyebrows at him one last time before she’s out the door. So if he was suspicious that one of her motives for departing was leaving him alone with Dean, now he’s sure.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dean asks.

“Oh, no. Anna likes Jack and Claire well enough, but she's not really a ‘kid person.’”

“Man, I don’t get that. Kids are just people. Only, like, smaller. Oh well. Her loss, right?”

“Right.”

“Can I help you with the rest of the dishes?”

“Sure.”

Castiel realizes how he’s grown accustomed to sharing space with Dean in Dean’s kitchen as they learn through trial and error to move through his own kitchen. But their routine is still familiar, Dean washes and Castiel dries, Castiel wipes the counters and Dean throws away stray bits of trash.

When they’re done, Dean collapses on the couch in the sitting room, throws his arm over his face and lets his legs hang over the side.

“Can I just sleep here?”

“I don’t think it would be good for your back.”

Dean sighs and sits up. He moves to one side, and Castiel has never prided himself much on reading nonverbal cues, but that is an invitation. It must be.

He sits beside Dean. Closer than he needs to, but not too close.

“It’s because you thought I was ogling your sister, right? That’s why you’ve been pissy all night.”

“I don’t believe I’ve been ‘pissy.’”

“You kinda have.”

“Not all night.”

“Fine. Not all night. But that’s why, right?”

“Am I supposed to feel better that you thought she was my girlfriend?”

"It wasn’t like that. I just wondered what kind of girl you would date.”

“I have precisely one ex-girlfriend. I can show you a picture of her sometime.”

“Seriously?”

Which part is he skeptical of? “Yes.”

Dean runs his finger along the plaid pattern on his apron.

“Sorry I got you a gag gift. You went and got me something nice.”

“It was like you said, for me, as well. I just saw it in the store. If anything, now I wonder if I should have gotten you something humorous. They had one that said ‘wine mom,’ for example.”

“Hey, I am obviously a beer mom.”

“Of course. I just thought you might like the color.”

“I do. I do like the color.”

“And I like having something that’s mine, and not my sister’s. So I think we both did alright.”

Dean relaxes into the couch. “She’s your older sister?”

“Yes.”

“You had lots of hand-me-downs growing up, then, huh?”

“Yes.” Experimentally, Castiel tries leaning back like Dean. Resting comfortably beside him. If comfort is something he’s capable of in close proximity to another human being. “From her, and all my brothers.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“Ha! I’m telling Sam he got off easy, only having one of me.”

Castiel could say that he considers Sam very fortunate indeed, because Dean was probably a much better older brother than any of Castiel’s siblings. But he doesn’t want to be misunderstood.

He doesn’t want Dean to be his brother.

So he doesn’t say anything, just smiles to himself at the comparison, at the idea of what his brothers might think of Dean and Sam. He hasn’t cared for their opinion in a long time, except for the one brother he can’t ask.

Jimmy would like Dean, he tells himself. Or maybe he wouldn’t like a bartender with a muscle car dancing with his daughter and teaching her to cook. Maybe the dead no longer get a say.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Castiel answers honestly, if incompletely.

Dean laughs. “Jesus, you’re intense.”

“Yes.”

Dean nudges him with an elbow. “It’s cool. It’s a good thing that you’re intense. What about me?”

This time Castiel makes himself think before he speaks, answer more carefully. “You got along well with Claire today.”

“What’d I say? Kids are just people. She’s cool. Now—Jack—he doesn't seem to like me too well.”

“He doesn’t always adjust very quickly to change.” It’s been bothering Castiel, too, but he doesn’t know how to reassure Dean. When Jack feels something, it’s how he feels. Castiel can’t make him like Dean.

Sam finally comes back downstairs, and Castiel asks him, “Did he finagle two chapters out of you?”

“The first one was short,” Sam says sheepishly. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Dishes, or…?”

“Me and Cas took care of it,” Dean says, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. This time he leaves it there for a moment, then another, and another. Castiel has no particular interest in brushing him off.

Except that he sort of has to. “Thank you for being flexible tonight, Sam. Let me get your check.”

“Oh—that’s not—”

“Let the man pay you, Sam,” Dean says sharply. He removes his hand from Castiel’s shoulder only to push himself to his feet and offer than hand to help Castiel off the couch.

Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand before he lets go, rough skin, gentle touch. For every other brush of skin or moment of closeness Castiel could offer other plausible explanations, but that one—that was flirtation. Yes? Unnecessary, unnoticed by anyone but the two of them. He looks to Dean for a sign, an explanation, but gets nothing but his regular smile.

His charming, brilliant smile.

Castiel gives Sam his check; Sam asks Dean if he needs his apron to drive home. Dean hurriedly takes it off and flings it at Sam, but while Sam is in the other room getting the box of decorations, Dean picks the apron up off the floor, folds it carefully over his arm, and puts it in his bag.

Dean lingers at the door as Sam goes out to his truck.

“Guess it’ll be a few weeks, huh.”

Castiel wants to see him again soon, but he won’t cancel the visit with Claire’s grandmother, not even for Dean.

“When we do meet again, I’d like to try that pork chop recipe.”

“What, did somebody have a change of heart about onions? Or meat on the bone?”

“Hardly—I mean, I’d like to try it. Just me. And you.”

Dean hesitates for a fraction of a second and Castiel wonders if he read everything wrong. Then Dean says, “Sounds like a plan. See you next year?”

The night is starless and cold, but not quite cold enough for snow. If they were really two people on a date there would be a kiss here, even just one of them leaning in for a peck on the cheek. There’s a moment where Dean is just standing there looking at him and Castiel wonders if he is thinking something similar.

“See you next year,” Castiel replies.

And in the real world outside his imagination, Castiel watches him walk back to his car, then goes inside and closes the front door against the cold. He goes around the first floor checking that things are turned off, wiped clean, put away. He feels. Empty, elated, lonely, charmed, trapped in the moment when their hands touched and not wanting to leave it.

He finds Claire sitting on the stairs.

“I thought you went to bed.”

“I decided not to. You did ask my opinion.”

“Should I not, next time?”

“No—I’ll go to bed! I just. I can’t believe you’ve been learning to cook from a guy who drives a muscle car. I bet he has tattoos. Does he have tattoos?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

“You should ask him.”

“Alright.”

“He dances like a nerd.”

“You danced with him.”

“So did you.”

Castiel doesn’t have anything to say to that. His faces feels hot. And his hands, where his skin touched Dean’s.

“And he calls you ‘Cas.’ What’s with that?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Do you like it? Or do you just pretend to like it to be polite?”

“I like it fine.” He likes it a great deal, actually. He hasn’t decided yet whether he wants everyone to call him only that from now on, or if he wants it to stay Dean’s, something special just between them.

“Can I call you Cas?”

“If you want.”

It will always have been Dean’s first.

“You liked him?” Castiel says, half observation, half question.

“I guess.”

“You liked him.”

“Yeah, okay. He was—he just talked to me like a person. Have you told him about me?”

“I told him that you live with me because your father passed away and your mother travels for work.” She makes a face at the mention of her mother. “I think Dean can relate to some of your experiences.”

“Oh.”

“Jack didn’t take to him as much, did he?”

“Jack isn’t used to sharing you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Jack is used to being your favorite person.”

“I don’t have a ‘favorite person.’”

Claire shrugs. “Whatever. I’m pretty sure that’s his problem. He’s not used to you having friends.”

“What wonderful things you have to say about my social life this evening.”

“I think it’s good that you’re making friends. It’s a healthy development at your age.”

“I think it’s time for bed.”

Claire grins and skips upstairs, saying over her shoulder, “Ask him if he has tattoos!”

CAS: Claire wants to know if you have tattoos

DEAN: WHY does she want to know that

CAS: She feels there is a correlation between body art and the type of car you drive

DEAN: Sam and I got drunk and got matching ones after Dad died

DEAN: DO NOT tell her that

A text arrives from Anna.

ANNA: did anything happen???

CAS: I asked him to have a meal with me.

ANNA: like a date? or just a normal cooking together thing

CAS: When I figure that out, I will tell you

ANNA: but he said yes, right?

CAS: Yes.

ANNA: !!!!!!!!!

As Castiel is trying to decide how to respond to that, his phone starts ringing. He stares at it.

Incoming call: Dean Winchester.

“Dean, I won’t tell her about the tattoo if you don’t want me to.”

“No, I know. I just—ah, well. I was gonna pretend I hit ‘call’ by accident and we could laugh about it, but I did it on purpose. I couldn’t sleep. Wanted to say hi.”

“Hello. Or, ‘hi.’”

“Hi.”

Silence stretches, but Dean doesn’t hang up.

Castiel puts the phone on speaker and sets it on the right-side pillow. He lays himself down on the left side.

He asks, “What are you thinking about?”

One year later.

Party snack checklist: chocolate pretzels, spicy wings, jelly strips, roasted vegetables, potato chips & dip

“This was a bad idea,” Dean says. He leans against the counter in Cas’s kitchen, surveying the mess from the afternoon’s cooking.

“It’s just a few friends,” Cas reminds him. “Friends, gifts, and your amazing cooking.”

“Our cooking.”

“Your amazing cooking, and my acceptable cooking.”

“And I helped,” Claire hollers from the dining room.

Cas places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It is astonishing to me,” Cas says, “that I am the one persuading you into a social activity.”

Dean covers Cas’s hand with him own. “I like friends. And gifts. And food. But I know, uh, darn-all about hosting parties. Planning sh—stuff. That’s always more been Sammy’s thing.”

“And Sam did a wonderful job with the shopping and the decorations. But the menu was all you. And the party itself was, in the first place, whose idea?”

“Yours,” Dean says defiantly.

“Mine!” Claire yells.

Jack runs in wearing his new holiday sweater, the dog just a few paces behind him. “It was my idea. And Miracle’s.”

There is some dispute over whose idea the party was.

They are generally in agreement that all four of them had been thinking about the upcoming holiday and remembering the previous year’s impromptu get-together. But whether Cas brought it up with Anna before Dean talked about it with Sam, or whether either of those things happened before Jack and Claire began secretly making invitations, by the end of November they were all in agreement that about a week before Christmas would be the first ever official Kline-Milton-Novak-Winchester Family & Friends Christmas Party. (There is some dispute over the name, too. Currently they’re going with Jack’s preference for alphabetical, but Dean thinks they should go in order of age, and Claire favors initials.)

Only now, Dean seems to be having second thoughts.

He looks back over the invite list for the tenth time.

“Who the hell is Garth?”

“My neighbor? The one with the twins.”

“Oh, boy.” Dean kneels down beside the dog and buries his face in Miracle’s neck for a couple seconds. This seems to calm him a little, right up until the doorbell rings and Miracle bolts from the kitchen to go bark at the front door. Claire and Jack follow eagerly.

“Next year,” Dean says, pushing himself to his feet, “we’re putting ‘do not ring the doorbell’ on the invitations.”

“Next year?” Cas repeats, offering a hand to help him steady himself.

“I said what I said.” He squeezes Cas’s hand and kisses his cheek, and they go together to greet their guests.