[FIC] Let Nothing Ye Dismay for KyoKohitsuji
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Let Nothing Ye Dismay
Author: liadan14
Recipient: KyoKohitsuji
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: /
Spoilers: Up to about 6x08, then goes a bit AU
Wordcount: 1,777
Summary: Dean’s not too sure about Christmas, but he’s learning to be sure about Cas.
Author notes: Some unexpected things happened that majorly blocked the writing process for this; I really really really hope you like it anyway… merry Christmas!
“What do you want?” Cas asks.
Dean’s throat dries up as he tries to articulate all million and ten things he wants to answer.
“Are we celebrating Christmas this year?” Sam asks, fingers drumming on the dashboard.
They’re maybe a week beyond Thanksgiving, and Dean’s still kind of occupied being thankful for getting Sam’s soul back.
Sam and Dean have celebrated Christmas a grand total of once in the last six years, the year before Dean went to hell.
“Why?” Dean asks, even though he knows.
“It’s Cas’s first Christmas.”
This is not true. Cas was around the year before last, too, but they skipped that Christmas due to apocalypse.
The less said about the Christmas Dean spent with Lisa and Ben, the better.
Cas is snoozing in the back seat currently. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of human sleep patterns yet, but he’s only be human since he turned up on their doorstep a week and a half ago (literally. It was the first time he ever knocked) with Sam’s soul in his pocket (not literally).
It was only after they were done giving Sam his soul back that Cas saw fit to tell them that getting Sam’s soul from the pit of hell Crowley had hid it in meant giving up his grace.
“Thank you for doing that,” Dean told him while Sam rested in the aftermath of being re-souled. “For Sam, I mean.”
Cas gave him a look that said you idiot without words.
He’s getting better at human interaction all the time.
“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean says. He’s fingering the scar on Cas’s chest where his grace was ripped out.
Cas’s hand strokes through his hair. “It’s not your fault,” Cas says.
They’re at Bobby’s by the first Sunday of Advent. If Sam’s doing this, apparently, he’s doing it right, and after all they’ve been through, they have a right to a peaceful vacation with the Bobster.
(“You ever call me that again, boy, and I’m gonna make you wish you’d never learned to talk.”)
Bobby doesn’t have the requisite wreath with candles, but it doesn’t really matter. They spend most of that day sleeping anyway.
At least, Dean does. When he wakes up, Sam has been out and about, buying one of those advent calendars with chocolate behind a door for every day. He’s also bought tinsel and fake stick-on snowflakes for the windows.
Dean knows this is just Sam feeling guilty about Cas falling for him, but Dean knows it wasn’t really for Sam, so he feels kind of awkward at the megawatt smile on Cas’s face as he thanks Sam.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Cas says.
“Sure you can, it ain’t rocket science,” Dean tells him, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “C’mon, get undressed, babe.”
Awkwardly, Cas starts pulling off his clothes, and Dean is intent on following every coltish move, hoping to never forget the way Cas’s body moves and stretches as each new bit of skin is revealed.
Sadly, he doesn’t manage, because before he knows it, they’re both naked under the spray of the shower, Cas with his back to Dean, leaning against him a little.. Dean’s flexible, though, he can work with this.
“Okay, I’m going to do it for you this time,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. “This is how we teach kids to do it.”
“Really?” Cas asks drily, rolling his hips back lazily against Dean at just the right angle.
“Well. Not exactly,” Dean drawls. He puts down the bottle of Head & Shoulders and sinks his hands into Cas’s thick black hair exactly the way he’s been wanting to for months.
Dean navigates through the first week or two of December by being willfully oblivious of all the Christmas happening around him. It’s only for the sake of his own sanity, he tells himself, because too much about his life has been too shit for the last few years for him to be able to take a sudden, painful one-eighty into holiday cheer.
He doesn’t tell Sam to stop decorating or explaining holiday traditions to Cas in his oh-em-gee-research voice, which, from him, is about as close as they’ll get to approval.
He only begins to thaw when he hears Cas singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in the shower.
He doesn’t know how Cas knows the words (or how he learned how to shower, to be honest), but he likes the thought that Cas is happy enough here, with them, to be singing.
“Dean. Please.”
At some point over the last few weeks, Sam has to have taken Cas shopping. The jeans he’s wearing definitely aren’t Dean’s or Sam’s, because they fit Castiel perfectly. Like, perfectly.
How Dean missed this shopping excursion is a mystery, because he could swear he’s unnaturally attuned to everything Cas does or doesn’t do, to the point of wanting to slap himself in the face because he’s a grown-ass man, goddammit.
Anyway, Dean wakes up one morning (the twenty-first, not that anyone’s counting), to Cas shaking him awake from another one of those weirdly surreal Cas-dreams. The only way he knows the difference between dream and reality is that dream-Cas was still wearing a trench coat. Real Cas is wearing Dean’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
Maybe it’s because of the dream, or maybe it’s because Cas smells like Dean’s conditioner, but he groans as he sits up, presses a kiss to Cas’s lips and it’s only when he’s more than halfway through his shower that he realizes there’s something a little wrong with that.
“I know you’ll remember this,” Castiel whispers in his ear hotly as he sinks down on Dean’s dick.
“Show me, damn it.”
Dean groans deeply.
“Show me.”
Cas doesn’t mention having kissed him, but in the end, it only takes Dean a day and a half to crack under the strain of his last Cas-related dream.
“I’ve been having them, too,” Cas says. He got rid of Sam with a clever question about something Christmas-related that got Sam off and shopping, dragging Bobby in his wake. “My grace…when I fell, I think the last thing my grace held onto was you, because it was you I fell for. This is just a side effect.”
Dean is momentarily silenced by the gut-wrenching effect of that particular speech, because knowing Cas fell for him and hearing it are two different things.
“Dean,” Cas says. “Dean…”
Cas is devastatingly good at finding verbs to go after “Dean”, so Dean’s not giving him a chance this time. He swoops in and kisses Cas, hard, on the mouth, and Cas goes with it.
“Do you?” Cas half-asks against Dean’s lips. “Is this?”
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says.
Later, Dean will not have blissfully forgotten their path from the kitchen to Dean’s bedroom. He’ll have an awkward bruise on his thigh from bumping into the railing because he couldn’t stop kissing Cas for long enough, and Cas trips on the way up and nearly knocks them both down.
They get there eventually, though.
‘There’ being Dean’s messy bed and his duffel with his junk spread all over the floor. They kick off their shoes and Dean peels off his socks, which Cas copies, but then he notices Cas’s expression of helpless confusion.
He walks over and removes Cas’s hands gently from his shirt.
“Watch me,” he instructs, and begins unbuttoning Cas’s shirt slowly. His fingers brush over naked skin as he does. Cas’s pale Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily.
Dean pulls off his own t-shirt and yanks down his pants before grabbing at Cas’s belt buckle and undoing it carefully. His fingers brush over Cas’s groin and Cas’s breath hitches.
Dean shudders.
“You really-“
“So help me, Dean Winchester, if you ask me if I’m sure-“
Dean surges up and kisses him, hard. Cas pulls him back till they fall into the bed and then Dean nearly loses his mind.
When he resurfaces from Cas, they’re both completely naked, hard and leaking, rubbing up against each other. Cas is flushed pink, panting and adorable. His hair is a mess.
“Cas,” Dean gasps out. “Can I please?”
Cas being Cas, he gets it and he nods, and Dean is groping for the lube faster than he cares to admit.
Cas is awkward as he lifts up his legs to make space for Dean between them. “I don’t know-“ he begins, but Dean shushes him.
“It’s okay,” he says.
When he starts fingering Cas, Cas stops talking.
He starts moaning, instead.
His cheeks are still pink, but Dean can see by the way he’s shaking and writhing, can hear by the way he’s getting louder, that it won’t take long for Cas to overcome his reticence.
Around the time Dean takes his fingers out and slides his dick into Cas, Cas is a wet dream come true (literally, as a matter of fact). He’s gorgeous and he’s turning Dean on so much he’s not sure he can last.
Cas’s legs wrap around his hips and he says, “Harder, Dean. Please.”
Dean’s nothing if not a gentleman in bed, so he complies.
The headboard smacks against the wall.
Cas screams and comes all over himself.
Dean is helpless to do anything but follow him over the edge.
“So…no more freaky dreams?” Dean asks.
“I don’t know,” Cas says, shifting so that there’s even more of his warm, naked body pressed up against Dean.
Dean hums quietly against Cas’s hair. It smells of Dean’s shampoo, and Dean finds he likes that.
“Dean,” Cas asks. “What do you want for Christmas?”
“Nothing,” Dean says.
“Liar.”
“I don’t know,” Dean amends. “I’m not really big on Christmas.”
Cas gives him a deep, searching look, and then says, “Very well. I will improvise.”
On Christmas morning, Bobby gets: A bottle of expensive whiskey, a rare tome on some mythical something or other, and a subscription to a gun magazine.
Sam gets: An ornate knife, a rare edition of a Dickens novel and Cinderella Barbie, TM.
Dean gets: A classic gun, a Bratz doll, and a scrapbook full of the report cards, movie tickets, photos and other miscellany in the secret compartment in the Impala’s trunk that only Cas knows about.
Cas gets: A dagger that apparently belonged to a pope in the middle ages, a box of chocolates, and an offer to learn how to drive the Impala.
Who all gets an “I love you” from whom that day is strictly off the record.
Title: Let Nothing Ye Dismay
Author: liadan14
Recipient: KyoKohitsuji
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: /
Spoilers: Up to about 6x08, then goes a bit AU
Wordcount: 1,777
Summary: Dean’s not too sure about Christmas, but he’s learning to be sure about Cas.
Author notes: Some unexpected things happened that majorly blocked the writing process for this; I really really really hope you like it anyway… merry Christmas!
“What do you want?” Cas asks.
Dean’s throat dries up as he tries to articulate all million and ten things he wants to answer.
“Are we celebrating Christmas this year?” Sam asks, fingers drumming on the dashboard.
They’re maybe a week beyond Thanksgiving, and Dean’s still kind of occupied being thankful for getting Sam’s soul back.
Sam and Dean have celebrated Christmas a grand total of once in the last six years, the year before Dean went to hell.
“Why?” Dean asks, even though he knows.
“It’s Cas’s first Christmas.”
This is not true. Cas was around the year before last, too, but they skipped that Christmas due to apocalypse.
The less said about the Christmas Dean spent with Lisa and Ben, the better.
Cas is snoozing in the back seat currently. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of human sleep patterns yet, but he’s only be human since he turned up on their doorstep a week and a half ago (literally. It was the first time he ever knocked) with Sam’s soul in his pocket (not literally).
It was only after they were done giving Sam his soul back that Cas saw fit to tell them that getting Sam’s soul from the pit of hell Crowley had hid it in meant giving up his grace.
“Thank you for doing that,” Dean told him while Sam rested in the aftermath of being re-souled. “For Sam, I mean.”
Cas gave him a look that said you idiot without words.
He’s getting better at human interaction all the time.
“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean says. He’s fingering the scar on Cas’s chest where his grace was ripped out.
Cas’s hand strokes through his hair. “It’s not your fault,” Cas says.
They’re at Bobby’s by the first Sunday of Advent. If Sam’s doing this, apparently, he’s doing it right, and after all they’ve been through, they have a right to a peaceful vacation with the Bobster.
(“You ever call me that again, boy, and I’m gonna make you wish you’d never learned to talk.”)
Bobby doesn’t have the requisite wreath with candles, but it doesn’t really matter. They spend most of that day sleeping anyway.
At least, Dean does. When he wakes up, Sam has been out and about, buying one of those advent calendars with chocolate behind a door for every day. He’s also bought tinsel and fake stick-on snowflakes for the windows.
Dean knows this is just Sam feeling guilty about Cas falling for him, but Dean knows it wasn’t really for Sam, so he feels kind of awkward at the megawatt smile on Cas’s face as he thanks Sam.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Cas says.
“Sure you can, it ain’t rocket science,” Dean tells him, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “C’mon, get undressed, babe.”
Awkwardly, Cas starts pulling off his clothes, and Dean is intent on following every coltish move, hoping to never forget the way Cas’s body moves and stretches as each new bit of skin is revealed.
Sadly, he doesn’t manage, because before he knows it, they’re both naked under the spray of the shower, Cas with his back to Dean, leaning against him a little.. Dean’s flexible, though, he can work with this.
“Okay, I’m going to do it for you this time,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. “This is how we teach kids to do it.”
“Really?” Cas asks drily, rolling his hips back lazily against Dean at just the right angle.
“Well. Not exactly,” Dean drawls. He puts down the bottle of Head & Shoulders and sinks his hands into Cas’s thick black hair exactly the way he’s been wanting to for months.
Dean navigates through the first week or two of December by being willfully oblivious of all the Christmas happening around him. It’s only for the sake of his own sanity, he tells himself, because too much about his life has been too shit for the last few years for him to be able to take a sudden, painful one-eighty into holiday cheer.
He doesn’t tell Sam to stop decorating or explaining holiday traditions to Cas in his oh-em-gee-research voice, which, from him, is about as close as they’ll get to approval.
He only begins to thaw when he hears Cas singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in the shower.
He doesn’t know how Cas knows the words (or how he learned how to shower, to be honest), but he likes the thought that Cas is happy enough here, with them, to be singing.
“Dean. Please.”
At some point over the last few weeks, Sam has to have taken Cas shopping. The jeans he’s wearing definitely aren’t Dean’s or Sam’s, because they fit Castiel perfectly. Like, perfectly.
How Dean missed this shopping excursion is a mystery, because he could swear he’s unnaturally attuned to everything Cas does or doesn’t do, to the point of wanting to slap himself in the face because he’s a grown-ass man, goddammit.
Anyway, Dean wakes up one morning (the twenty-first, not that anyone’s counting), to Cas shaking him awake from another one of those weirdly surreal Cas-dreams. The only way he knows the difference between dream and reality is that dream-Cas was still wearing a trench coat. Real Cas is wearing Dean’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
Maybe it’s because of the dream, or maybe it’s because Cas smells like Dean’s conditioner, but he groans as he sits up, presses a kiss to Cas’s lips and it’s only when he’s more than halfway through his shower that he realizes there’s something a little wrong with that.
“I know you’ll remember this,” Castiel whispers in his ear hotly as he sinks down on Dean’s dick.
“Show me, damn it.”
Dean groans deeply.
“Show me.”
Cas doesn’t mention having kissed him, but in the end, it only takes Dean a day and a half to crack under the strain of his last Cas-related dream.
“I’ve been having them, too,” Cas says. He got rid of Sam with a clever question about something Christmas-related that got Sam off and shopping, dragging Bobby in his wake. “My grace…when I fell, I think the last thing my grace held onto was you, because it was you I fell for. This is just a side effect.”
Dean is momentarily silenced by the gut-wrenching effect of that particular speech, because knowing Cas fell for him and hearing it are two different things.
“Dean,” Cas says. “Dean…”
Cas is devastatingly good at finding verbs to go after “Dean”, so Dean’s not giving him a chance this time. He swoops in and kisses Cas, hard, on the mouth, and Cas goes with it.
“Do you?” Cas half-asks against Dean’s lips. “Is this?”
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says.
Later, Dean will not have blissfully forgotten their path from the kitchen to Dean’s bedroom. He’ll have an awkward bruise on his thigh from bumping into the railing because he couldn’t stop kissing Cas for long enough, and Cas trips on the way up and nearly knocks them both down.
They get there eventually, though.
‘There’ being Dean’s messy bed and his duffel with his junk spread all over the floor. They kick off their shoes and Dean peels off his socks, which Cas copies, but then he notices Cas’s expression of helpless confusion.
He walks over and removes Cas’s hands gently from his shirt.
“Watch me,” he instructs, and begins unbuttoning Cas’s shirt slowly. His fingers brush over naked skin as he does. Cas’s pale Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily.
Dean pulls off his own t-shirt and yanks down his pants before grabbing at Cas’s belt buckle and undoing it carefully. His fingers brush over Cas’s groin and Cas’s breath hitches.
Dean shudders.
“You really-“
“So help me, Dean Winchester, if you ask me if I’m sure-“
Dean surges up and kisses him, hard. Cas pulls him back till they fall into the bed and then Dean nearly loses his mind.
When he resurfaces from Cas, they’re both completely naked, hard and leaking, rubbing up against each other. Cas is flushed pink, panting and adorable. His hair is a mess.
“Cas,” Dean gasps out. “Can I please?”
Cas being Cas, he gets it and he nods, and Dean is groping for the lube faster than he cares to admit.
Cas is awkward as he lifts up his legs to make space for Dean between them. “I don’t know-“ he begins, but Dean shushes him.
“It’s okay,” he says.
When he starts fingering Cas, Cas stops talking.
He starts moaning, instead.
His cheeks are still pink, but Dean can see by the way he’s shaking and writhing, can hear by the way he’s getting louder, that it won’t take long for Cas to overcome his reticence.
Around the time Dean takes his fingers out and slides his dick into Cas, Cas is a wet dream come true (literally, as a matter of fact). He’s gorgeous and he’s turning Dean on so much he’s not sure he can last.
Cas’s legs wrap around his hips and he says, “Harder, Dean. Please.”
Dean’s nothing if not a gentleman in bed, so he complies.
The headboard smacks against the wall.
Cas screams and comes all over himself.
Dean is helpless to do anything but follow him over the edge.
“So…no more freaky dreams?” Dean asks.
“I don’t know,” Cas says, shifting so that there’s even more of his warm, naked body pressed up against Dean.
Dean hums quietly against Cas’s hair. It smells of Dean’s shampoo, and Dean finds he likes that.
“Dean,” Cas asks. “What do you want for Christmas?”
“Nothing,” Dean says.
“Liar.”
“I don’t know,” Dean amends. “I’m not really big on Christmas.”
Cas gives him a deep, searching look, and then says, “Very well. I will improvise.”
On Christmas morning, Bobby gets: A bottle of expensive whiskey, a rare tome on some mythical something or other, and a subscription to a gun magazine.
Sam gets: An ornate knife, a rare edition of a Dickens novel and Cinderella Barbie, TM.
Dean gets: A classic gun, a Bratz doll, and a scrapbook full of the report cards, movie tickets, photos and other miscellany in the secret compartment in the Impala’s trunk that only Cas knows about.
Cas gets: A dagger that apparently belonged to a pope in the middle ages, a box of chocolates, and an offer to learn how to drive the Impala.
Who all gets an “I love you” from whom that day is strictly off the record.