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Castiel watches out of the passenger window as the snowy countryside alongside the northbound Interstate 35 blurs by, the Impala speeding down the mostly empty highway. It’s late morning of December 21st, still too early for holiday traffic, and they’ll arrive at their destination in less than half a day, well before any would begin.
Castiel’s eyes turn from the white expanse outside and over to the man behind the wheel. A light, easy smile plays across Dean’s lips, fingertips tapping the steering wheel in time to the music playing over the speakers. As if aware of his regard, the green eyes belonging to the love of Castiel’s life turn briefly from the road and meet his own. The smile grows wider, and even as Dean’s eyes turn back to the road, he slides a hand across the bench seat to take Castiel’s and gives it a squeeze.
Castiel squeezes back and ponders his surprise that Dean had raised no objections when he’d brought up the idea of making the trip to Donna’s cabin early, days before they were to join her, Jody, and the girls for Christmas. Dean had simply looked into his eyes, smiled, and said, “Whatever you want, sweetheart” and made the call to Donna to clear the change of plans with her. Donna had of course been more than happy to accommodate.
He’s not sure what Dean had seen on his face, but it must have been enough to grant him this wish with no questions asked, and he wasn’t about to examine this gift horse any further — for Castiel has something very special planned for Yule. Something that requires a fireplace for burning the Yule log, of course (Kansas winters being far too cold to hold a bonfire outside), but more importantly — privacy.
After a brief stop for lunch and to fill the Impala’s tank, they arrive at the cabin just as the sun dips beneath the treeline. Perfect timing, Castiel thinks as they grab their bags from the trunk and head up to the front door of the cabin, Dean stopping at one of the many garden gnomes littered about the place to fetch the key from underneath. He unlocks the door and they step inside, the homeyness of the place wrapping them in warmth even though the hearth is cold.
Castiel wastes no time, returning to the Impala’s trunk to fetch a box of candles and the special Yule log he’d made the day before. It’s actually several pieces of wood — aspen for spiritual understanding, oak for strength and wisdom, and pine for luck and prosperity — all held together with boughs of evergreen and decorated with holly and mistletoe. Two holes just big enough for tapered candles are also drilled into the oak.
As he lifts the log from the trunk, he thinks about the gift he’ll be giving Dean tonight and with a nervous swallow, hopes the wood he’s chosen will bring him luck.
He stamps the crusted snow from his boots and steps back into the cabin, the warmth from the fire Dean has laid in the fireplace suffusing the cozy room, the crackling of the wood just beginning to catch soothing Castiel’s nerves. He sets the log in his hands on a cloth Dean must have placed in the center of the dining table, pulls two tapered candles from the candle box, and twists them snugly within the holes drilled in the log. The remaining candles he sets throughout the cabin; on end tables, the coffee table, and along the mantle above the fireplace. Carefully, he pulls a burning twig of kindling from the fireplace and uses it to light the candles, setting the cabin lambent with warm yellow light and permeating the air with the calming scents of orange, clove, frankincense, and myrrh. Standing back, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, drawing in the various scents, and gives a satisfied exhale before returning to the kitchen.
He finds Dean there, monitoring the contents of two pots; a delectable combination of smells permeating the air. Castiel slips up behind him, wrapping arms around Dean’s waist, and lays his chin on Dean’s shoulder to observe the activity.
“What are you making?” he asks softly into Dean’s ear and smiles at the shiver it causes.
Dean pauses stirring the contents of a pot containing a lovely golden-red soup smelling of tomatoes, garlic, and rosemary, and turns to brush his lips against Castiel’s temple.
Warmth spreads through Castiel’s body, and he leans into the kiss with a sigh of contentment.
“It’s called ‘Sun King Soup’...” Dean says, then pauses for a moment. When he continues, his voice is so soft and shy, Castiel might have missed it if he hadn’t been so close. “I looked up Yule recipes and thought this one sounded good.”
Castiel’s eyes close as his arms tighten around Dean’s waist. So sweet and thoughtful — what have I done to deserve him? He presses a kiss to Dean’s neck and can’t help but smile at the low hum it elicits. “It looks and smells utterly divine, Dean.” Lifting one hand from Dean’s waist, he motions toward the other pot. Even covered, Castiel detects the scent of apples and cloves wafting from it.
“Oh, that’s for after dinner — hot buttered rum!” Dean covers the pot and lowers the flame underneath, then turns in Castiel’s arms, pulling him into a soft kiss.
“Just a few more minutes to chow time. Wanna set the table?” Castiel nods, his throat dry, struck dumb by the light of love he sees in Dean’s eyes. Reluctantly, he pulls away to fetch silverware from the drawers while Dean ladles soup into bowls, garnishing it with sprinkles of fresh rosemary.
Castiel lights the candles in the Yule log as Dean sets the bowls of soup on the table, and Castiel can’t help but smile as Dean gallantly races behind him to pull out his chair, then takes his own. For a moment, their eyes meet across the table, Dean’s green eyes flickering gold in the candlelight; then, sharing a smile, they dig in.
The first taste of soup explodes with flavor on Castiel’s tongue; savory tomato enhanced by the minty, peppery sage of the rosemary, the light tang of paprika, and the underlying sweetness of orange. It’s like a burst of sunshine in his mouth, and he reflects on how aptly the soup is named. “Dean, this is delicious!”
To his delight, Dean’s freckle-kissed cheeks flush with a lovely tinge of pink, long lashes brushing over them as he lowers his gaze. Castiel reaches across the table to take Dean’s hand, to pull those lovely green eyes back up to his. They finish the rest of the meal in appreciative silence, hands clasped across the table.
After they’ve finished, Castiel clears the bowls from the table and sets them in the sink while Dean fetches cups from the cabinet, filling them with the hot buttered rum. He hands one to Castiel, then takes his free hand to lead him into the living room, warmed and cast in a golden glow by the fire and candlelight. They sit facing each other on the soft brown throw rug in front of the hearth, legs crossed and knees brushing, sipping the warm, sweet drink. The firelight dances in Dean’s eyes, setting them ablaze in green and gold; and Castiel’s breath catches at the beauty of him, his heart in his throat.
Dean takes another sip from his cup, full lips quirking into a grin over the rim, then sets the cup down to reach under the nearby end table, pulling out a rectangular box wrapped merrily in red and green. “It’s okay to give gifts tonight, right?” he asks as he hesitantly holds it out to Castiel.
“Oh, of course! And I have one for you as well,” Castiel says, setting his own cup down to take the proffered box. He sets it down by his folded knees to reach under the other end table, procuring a box wrapped in green and silver, and sets it in front of Dean. “But before we open them…if you’ll please give me a moment, I would like to do something first.”
“Of course, Cas,” Dean nods, brows pinched in curiosity.
Castiel rises, walks to the dining table, and removes the decorations from the Yule log. He sets the candles on the table, then brings the holly and evergreens to the fireplace, draping the greenery over the mantle and tucking the holly amongst the boughs, the bright pops of the red holly berries and deep green of the leaves contrasting with the lighter evergreen. With a satisfied nod, he retrieves the now-bare Yule log, returning to kneel with it before the fire. Dean scoots over to join him as he carefully sets it onto the burning logs.
He takes Dean’s hand, smiling into his eyes, then turns back to watch the Yule log steam and sputter as the flames first lick and then begin to consume it. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, letting the scent of the wood infuse his senses. His voice barely a whisper above the crackling flame, he says:
The Wheel has turned once more,
And the earth has gone to sleep.
The leaves are gone, and the crops have returned to the ground.
On this, the darkest of nights, we celebrate the return of the light.
Tomorrow, the sun will rise,
its journey continuing as it always does.
Welcome back, warmth
Welcome back, light.
Welcome back, life.
They stay that way for a moment, staring into the flames together. Dean releases Castiel’s hand to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him close as the Yule log sparks and pops. Castiel sighs happily, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and time stands still as he basks in the warmth of the fire and Dean’s love.
Dean finally breaks the silence, his breath warm upon Castiel’s temple. “Ready to open your present, sweetheart?” Castiel nods against Dean’s shoulder and as he rises to face him, reaches a hand behind Dean’s neck to pull him into a kiss, brief but tender and full of promise. “I already have mine, though,” he whispers against Dean’s lips, then grins as he pulls away. “Oh! But of course, you mean the boxes!”
Dean chuckles warmly and pulls Castiel in for another kiss, light and quick. “Awesome! I love presents. But first things first — refills!” he says as he rises and grabs their cups, retreating to the kitchen and returning with them freshly filled. He sets the cups down on the coffee table and takes his previous place on the rug across from Castiel, the gaily wrapped boxes between them. “Okay, sunshine. You first,” he says, waving eagerly at the green and red wrapped box in front of Castiel.
Castiel’s method of unwrapping gifts has always driven Dean quite mad, and tonight is no exception as he gently pries the wrapping apart at the taped seams and neatly folds the paper, then carefully slides his thumb around the lid of the box to break the tape holding it down. By the time he’s ready to lift the top from the box, Dean is all but vibrating in impatience; but quickly stills as the box top is removed, biting his lip nervously as if it’s even possible Castiel might not like whatever is inside.
But as Castiel sets the lid aside and carefully lifts away the tissue paper covering the gift, he gasps in wonder as the firelight catches on the material within.
Blue, green, and gold flicker and sparkle from a black field, and as Castiel pulls it from the box, it resolves into a wide, waist-length blanket, crocheted out of soft, iridescent black yarn. And he gasps again when he expands it fully, the tapered, pointed ends sweeping down to scalloped edges — just like wings.
For a moment he’s speechless, his mouth gaping open like a floundering fish. He stares across from him into worried green eyes and finally finds his voice. “Oh.. oh Dean, it’s beautiful… it’s perfect.” He wraps the blanket around his shoulders, the ‘wings’ draping down his back and over the tops of his crossed legs, and it’s so warm and soft. “Thank you so much, Dean. I love it.”
Dean’s shoulders relax and his smile returns, warm and bright, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Whew, I was worried there for a minute. Thought I was going to have to give you CPR or something.”
“Where did you find it?” Castiel asked, running his fingers over the soft, precise stitches. “It’s very well made.” He looks up as Dean coughs nervously.
“I… uh, I made it,” he says quietly, shyly. “Spent a lot of time on YouTube, and Donna helped a lot as well.”
Castiel feels his eyes filling up. “Oh, Dean, you… you made this? For me?” He leans across the remaining box to pull Dean in for a warm, tender kiss. “It’s wonderful… you’re wonderful, Dean. I love you.”
But now it’s his turn to be nervous as he leans back, gently nudging his gift to Dean. “Your turn, love.”
Dean does not share Castiel’s fastidiousness when it comes to unwrapping gifts, and he cringes as Dean rips the paper from the box, yanks the flaps open, and digs inside to pull out — another, slightly smaller box, this one wrapped in blue and white. “Um, Cas… what is this?”
“Just… open it, Dean,” Castiel says, trying and mostly failing to keep a grin off his face. Dean gives him a puzzled look, but tears into this box in the same manner as the first to find…another, even smaller, box, wrapped in red and green.
“Oh come on, Cas, what the hell?”
Castiel’s stomach lurches at Dean’s annoyed tone. Has he managed to ruin a perfectly lovely Yule? “Sam… Sam said you would find it funny.”
To Castiel’s great relief, Dean's head tips back with the force of his laughter. “Did he, now?” Dean chortles. “Oh, boy, that kid’s got it comin’.” Castiel breathes a sigh of relief. “Just one more, Dean. I promise.”
“Aw, don’t spoil the surprise, sunshine.”
Dean makes short work of the wrapping and pulls out the smallest box yet, this one wrapped in silver and gold. He holds it for a moment, just staring at it, and Castiel grows anxious again. Before he can say anything, Dean begins to unwrap it, taking care this time, as if afraid of damaging the item inside — and uncovers a small, black velvet-covered box. Castiel’s heart leaps into his throat as Dean stares at the box, slowly lifts the hinged lid — and gasps.
“Cas… Cas, these are… oh my god, these are beautiful,” Dean says as he pulls one of the rings nestled within. The firelight glints off three different metals — gold, silver, and copper, wound in a braid. “Where did you find these?”
Castiel swallows his heart back down into his chest. “I worked with a jeweler in town — Gary, at ‘Heavenly Jewelry’, the one by the market downtown,” he says. “I had the idea for the design and approached him to see if he would make them for me…but Gary said it would be more meaningful if I made them myself.” Castiel plucks the other ring from the box, tracing the braided metal with his thumb. “He instructed me on how to braid the metal wire together and guided me through the process.”
Nervously, he glances up from the ring in his hand to see Dean staring at him, green eyes bright; and with a blink, a single tear streaks golden down his cheek. “You…you made these?” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, hard. “For me… for us?”
Castiel pushes the now-empty boxes and shreds of wrapping paper aside; rising on one knee, he presents the ring to Dean.
“You are my love and my life, the light that guided me out of darkness. My sun, my moon, my stars — my everything.” He pauses, watching as Dean’s beautiful eyes fill up, his full lips part on a disbelieving gasp.
“Dean Michael Winchester. Will you do me the honor of being my husband?”
Castiel’s heart beats a staccato rhythm as Dean continues to gape at him, speechless. Oh… oh no, have I gone too far? Have I misread his feelings? Castiel’s runaway thoughts come to a startled halt when Dean reaches a hand behind his neck and crushes their lips together.
When Dean finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far — only far enough to whisper against Castiel’s lips, “Yes, Cas… yes, a thousand times, yes.”
Castiel’s breath catches in his throat and he chokes down a sob as he slides the ring onto Dean’s right ring finger. The tears welling in his eyes flow freely as Dean slides the other ring onto Castiel’s hand before pulling him into another kiss.
This kiss lasts much longer, much deeper; and Castiel pulls Dean down onto the rug, their happy tears mingling along with their hitched breaths. Afterward, gasping as they lay next to each other in front of the crackling fire, Dean rolls onto his side to face him.
“So, how did you know I would pull out the ring that would fit you and leave the ring that would fit me?” Dean asks, his fingers tracing lightly over the ring on Castiel’s hand.
“Oh, that took no planning at all. By happy coincidence, we have the same ring size.”
“How convenient.” Dean’s breath is hot against Castiel’s ear, and his fingers trail from the ring and down, brushing first over Castiel’s clothed stomach, then darting underneath the hem to slide up bare skin. Castiel's gasp of surprise is replaced by a low hum of want, Dean’s warm palm leaving a trail of goosebumps and heat on his skin where it passes. Dean elicits another gasp when his lips follow in pursuit, Castiel’s t-shirt rucking up against Dean’s head as he kisses his way up. Castiel’s back arches to meet him, the underside of the t-shirt springing free, and he can’t stop the moan as Dean’s lips leave open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone.
As Dean pulls the t-shirt over his head, Castiel is already urgently pulling Dean’s shirt off as well, Dean pausing the trail of kisses up Castiel’s neck just long enough for him to accomplish the task.
“Dean,” Castiel pants as Dean makes his way to the shell of his ear, “isn’t it usually customary to wait until after the wedding to consummate the union?”
Another gasp is torn from him as Dean ruts down against him. “Do you want to wait?”
“Absolutely not.”
Castiel wakes the following day, blinking as a shaft of morning sunlight strikes him. The fire has died down to glowing embers, but he’s far from cold; Dean’s warm, bare body pressed against his, and the winged blanket wrapped around them provides plenty of heat.
As the beam of light lengthens, moving across to strike the ring on Dean’s hand and set it aflame, Castiel is overcome by joy and wonder. This beautiful creature, this wonderful man, said Yes. He said yes, and soon he would be Castiel’s forever, to have and to hold, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to death they do part — and, what with having God as their adopted son, even that won’t part them.
Gently, so as to not wake him, he raises Dean’s hand to press his lips to the ring. Briefly, long lashes flutter against sun-kissed cheeks, a contented sigh, and a soft smile on full lips that Castiel is eager to spend the rest of his life kissing again and again. Still, Dean doesn’t fully wake, burying his nose even further into Castiel’s neck, arms wrapping even tighter around him.
With a happy sigh of his own, Castiel drifts back to sleep, and dreams of the future.