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December 3rd
Castiel stared at the carved sign mounted above the shop windows displaying wooden ornaments in all shapes and sizes. It was delicately done, and the variety shown in the window was baffling. Cas caught a glimpse of the Starfleet Insignia whittled from cherry wood in the corner, smack in the middle of a whole host of Christmas tree ornaments.
Well, it was certainly different. If he didn’t have a very specific order to place, he would have contemplated revamping his Christmas decoration collection to a more geeky standard. But he was on a mission and he only had about forty minutes of his lunch break left. Not that Sam would mind if he came back a little late to their meeting, he was the one who recommended his brother’s woodwork shop to Castiel after all. Actually, Cas felt like he’d already known Dean for years; Sam had told him a lot about his brother, with a fond look, quiet admiration and thankfulness colouring his voice.
The warm red brick storefront of the ‘Forbidden Forest’ was joined on its right with what seemed to be a bakery judging by the name, ’Benny and the Beignets’. Cas wondered if this was another pop culture reference he didn’t grasp. There was only one door and a colourful sign informing customers that they had to cross the bakery to get into the woodwork shop.
When Castiel entered the bakery, announced by the melodious tinkle of a bell above the door, he quickly realised that it was a clever trick. The smell of warm pastries and ground coffee beans was alluring and Cas’s nose immediately picked up the scent of the aromatic coffee Sam often brought back for him from a visit to his brother’s shop during lunch break.
But Cas wasn’t here to buy food - even though the New Orleans Beignets Sam also often gave to Cas when he’d forgotten his lunch again, were right there on the counter, heaped in a pile of baked goodness and sprinkled with an amount of confectioner’s sugar it made Cas’s teeth ache just from looking at the display.
He shook his head to clear his mind of the sugary cobwebs, noting the absence of anyone behind the counter and continued on into the store next door. As soon as he opened the partition door he was hit with a new onslaught of smells: of wood shavings and pine and, inexplicably, cinnamon. It was as tantalising as the bakery’s scent in its own right.
Cas was torn from his thoughts by raucous laughter coming from the back of the shop, near the counter. He made to step past a display stand stacked with small moose figurines and snowmen, but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the man behind the counter. He was tall with honey blond hair, his broad shoulders wrapped in green plaid flannel and he seemed to currently be involved in an impromptu wrestling match with a burlier man wearing a hat and sporting a beard. They were laughing and swearing at each other, but after a moment of stalemate in their fight, the man who looked like a fisherman straight out of the bayou seemed to give up and stepped back.
“You win, bub,” he said, but when the other man’s stance shifted with victorious glee and he turned around to throw his fist in the air, the dishtowel formerly slung over the bearded man’s shoulder came down across the other’s backside with a sharp snap.
“Did you just –?” came the indignant reply after a squawk of surprise.
“Sure did, it’ll teach you not to be so damn smug.”
“Alright, stop flirting you two! I’m right here, you know.”
Cas had been so caught up in the men’s interaction that he hadn’t noticed the dark haired woman entering the shop from the back, where Castiel could see the actual workshop. The woman was staring at the men with a playful scowl while she twisted her chocolate brown hair into an elegant bun.
“Aw, sugar, you know you’re the only one for me. Winchester’s just a stop-gap while you’re doodling in the back – ow, now don’t be mean!”
The Southern drawl was cut off by the woman, who slapped the hat off the man’s head before leaning in for a kiss. All the while the blond just stood to the side, chuckling.
“Sorry, Sarah, I knew him first. He earned his butt-slapping rights.”
The woman, Sarah, laughed and took a briefcase off the counter, sliding a sketchbook into it.
“Yes, but I’m wearing the Tiffany engagement ring so you can go suck it, Dean.”
Dean grinned. Cas’s only thought was that no ring could compete with that smile’s sparkle.
“Okay, enough of the posturing, I have to get back to the gallery. I left the sketches for the snowflake ornaments in the back, you can work out the measurements yourself.”
And with that the woman made her way through the shop, a phone pressed to her ear already, not taking notice of Castiel, who was trying to blend in with his surroundings. With all the wood and his beige trench coat it wasn’t that difficult a feat.
“You’re a lucky man, Benny,” came Dean’s voice, followed by a chuckle and a reply.
“Don’t I know it, brother.” Benny slapped Dean on the shoulder and made his way over to the door as well. He saluted Cas in passing and let the door fall shut behind him.
Castiel was still hiding behind the assembled moose and Frosty the Snowman army. But the trench coat only had so much power of camouflage and he couldn’t just keep standing there ogling the shop owner.
Dean was straightening things up on the counter and Castiel reluctantly took a step forward. Dean seemed to hear the shuffling of his feet and turned around to greet his customer.
“Hey, I didn’t see you there – Welcome to the ‘Forbidden Forest’, can I do anything for you?”
Cas had seen the pictures of Sam and his brother in the office he shared with the younger Winchester but they didn’t do Dean justice. His eyes were a deep shade of forest green, gleaming in the golden lights of the shop and the slight tan of his skin highlighted the spattering of freckles across his face – there were even some on his hands, Cas noted with a glance downwards. They were very nice hands.
Dean was rugged and slightly scruffy and drop-dead gorgeous. Cas was certain there were a lot of things Dean Winchester could do for him, but none of his thoughts would be considered appropriate if he uttered them now.
Well, except one. He had come here for a reason other than to eavesdrop and stare at his colleague’s older brother, after all.
“Yes. I would like to order something.”
Dean smiled. Castiel barely stifled a swooning whimper and tried to conceal it by adjusting his glasses which were slipping down his nose.
“Sure thing. Care to elaborate?”
“I – My name is Castiel, I work with your brother and, um, Sam said he told you I’d stop by?”
The transformation of Dean’s expression from slightly amused politeness to surprised recognition and then childlike glee was quite intriguing to observe.
“You’re the guy Sammy has a big crush on!” he exclaimed and Cas balked.
“What? No, I–“ he started, but was cut off before he could voice his confusion.
“I’m just kidding, dude. Sammy’s too in love with Jess to actually appreciate the sight.”
What?
“Honestly, the way he talks about you I imagined a dusty, chalky, stuck-up professor. He can babble on about your book on the evolution of societal structures in Babylonian times for hours, and no offence man, that sounds fascinating and you gotta be a real smart cookie to write about something like that, but have you ever seen Sammy go into an academic fangirling fit? It’s pathetic, all flailing moose arms and trumpeting sounds. Once he actually hit Jess by accident because he got so excited, it was hilarious. Not that he actually hurt her, she’s a tough girl. Uh, sorry man, I’m rambling, I’ll just… stop.”
Castiel blinked for several seconds before gathering his wits, noticing that Dean’s cheeks and the tops of his ears were tinged a soft pink. It was adorable. Castiel shook himself, but he didn’t really know how to reply to all that.
“I – I can assure you, I’ve been called stuck-up plenty of times if it’s any consolation.”
Dean’s slightly sheepish expression morphed into a boyish grin and he winked at Cas.
(Actually winked. Cas was in so much trouble.)
“Man, those people don’t know what they’re talking about, no guy with a bee tattoo can be all that stuck-up.”
Cas pulled his hands back from where he’d been fiddling with the tiny wooden stars lying on the counter. He self-consciously tugged on the sleeves of his coat, trying to cover up the little bee inked into the skin of his left wrist. Of all the things for Dean to notice, that had to be the one.
“My friend Gadreel and I decided to get drunk in college exactly once. It resulted in the bee for me and a line of the poem Invictus on his hip. He still insists I got the better deal of the two of us, but he can at least conceal his mildly pretentious quote.”
Dean’s laughter was loud in the empty shop and it took over his whole body, head thrown back, shoulders shaking and even some tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He wiped at them when he was able to breathe properly again.
“Oh my god, Cas, that’s awesome and totally proves my point.”
He called me Cas.
“What was the line?”
Cas allowed himself a tiny malicious smile as well.
“I thank whatever gods may be, For my unconquerable soul. He majored in English Literature and had a Henley phase in the way that other people have phases for teen pop stars.”
Dean was still chuckling and Castiel kind of wished he would never stop.
“Gotta say, man, that’s better than squealing for Justin Bieber or those teenage vampire creeps.”
Castiel nodded and stared at Dean a bit more. Sadly, Dean seemed to remember that Cas was a customer and not there to have a nice little chat with, and he cleared his throat.
"Alright, Sammy said you wanted some personalised ornaments?”
With quite a bit of reluctance Cas tried to sort his thoughts so that he could actually string together an explanation for his order.
“Yes. I’d like to give them to my family for Christmas, since it’s the first time we’re able to celebrate together in a few years and I want something special for them. Sam told me you are very talented with wood.”
Dean blushed again and flapped his hand in a dismissive wave.
“He exaggerates. But I’m sure we can work something out for you. Any ideas what you’d like them to look like? And how many you want?”
Cas frowned a bit at Dean’s refusal to accept the compliment, but he shrugged it off in favour of pulling out his list.
“There’s Missouri, she’s – well, she’s basically our mother, she took us in when I was 10.” He cleared his throat, aware of what he’d just admitted, even if it might not have seemed like a big deal to Dean. “Then there’s Michael, Anna, Gabriel and Balthazar. And… no. That’s it.”
Dean quirked a curious eyebrow but didn’t ask about Cas’s awkward self-interruption.
“I’ve brought a picture of Missouri’s house and I would like her ornament to look like it, if that is something you can do. The other ones can just be neutral pieces with their names on them. I’ve seen what you can do with wood in the window display and I’m sure whatever you come up with will be wonderful.”
At that, Dean raised his head from where it had been bowed over the picture Cas had given him, and the paper on which he’d been scribbling the names Cas mentioned.
“I can do the house, no problem. It’s going to take me a while to finish the five pieces, though. It’s good that you came in early, there’s always a lot to do around Christmas.”
Dean was still writing on his notepad, first scratching down some prices and then a few quick doodles took form on the white sheet. Cas observed it curiously, interested in Dean’s work process (and maybe also in the fluid and confident movements of his broad hands). When Dean raised his head inquiringly at him, he nodded and hurried to reply.
"Yes, that’s completely fine. Sam has my contact information, but I’ll leave you a card with my number just in case.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and passed one of said cards to Dean’s waiting hand.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know when I’ve finished your order.”
Castiel nodded again and smiled at Dean, before making himself turn around with a goodbye and leaving the shop through Benny’s bakery. When he stepped onto the sidewalk and into the bitingly cold winter air, he still felt his arm tingle from the spark that had shot through him when Dean had touched his hand and the image of Dean’s smile seemed to be burned into his retinas.
He almost walked into a lamp post on his way to his car.
When Cas got back to the office he shared with Sam in the Anthropology and History department of the local university, Sam asked him how it went with an odd gleam in his eyes. Cas stuttered a bit, because most of what he remembered were glimpses of the crinkles that formed at the corners of Dean’s eyes when he laughed, the soft turn of his lips and the gentle, reassuring tone of his voice. Not things he was going to tell Sam.
So he settled for a generic reply,“It went well, he’ll let me know when he’s finished the pieces.” Sadly, he wasn’t sure Sam would settle for that, so he added a question that had been rattling around his head since he’d caught sight of the sign above Dean’s shop.
“Sam, why is the store named after the forest in the Harry Potter series? Didn’t you say Dean refuses to like the books and that’s why it says ‘So you can keep all your nerdiness in one place, Dumbledork’ on your laptop?” Cas frowned, “Although he is selling Starfleet merchandise and tiny lightsabers, so I don’t know if he is the right person to make fun of nerds.”
Sam’s laughter was different from Dean’s, not as deep and it didn’t make Cas’s skin feel too tight and tingly all at once, but it was just as warm and fond.
“Dean only pretends not to like Harry Potter because Charlie loves it.”
Castiel made a questioning noise. Was Charlie Dean’s partner? This should not have made his heart drop the way it did, a dull ache blooming in the space behind his sternum.
“Charlie is Dean’s best friend,” Sam elaborated and Cas could suddenly breathe easily again.
“It’s kind of their thing – she brings out his inner geek, but he needs one thing they can still squabble about. Don’t know why he chose Harry Potter for the purpose.” Sam chuckled, “A few years ago Charlie was helping him with his business plan and she gave him the perfect excuse to sell geeky stuff in his store as well, because she’s a web wiz and she manages his website, so now everyone who knows anything about fandom and proper geek gear also knows the address of Dean’s shop.” Sam dragged a hand through his long hair and Cas smiled when it flopped straight back.
“Anyway, just before Dean started making the sign for the shop, they got drunk at some LARPing event or other and made a bet – something about who could get more numbers out of the female participants, I don’t really want to know – and Charlie obviously won, and her wager was that she got to choose the name for Dean’s store. At first she wanted to go with ‘Mirkwood’ but then she remembered the giant spiders and that Dean actually admits he likes the Hobbit, so she made him name it the ‘Forbidden Forest’ instead. Dean pretends to be grumpy about it, but he actually loves it.”
Although Cas didn’t understand some of the terms Sam had used, he still felt his face pull up in amusement. Dean and Charlie seemed to have a great friendship and the story only endeared Dean more to him. He just hoped Sam couldn’t tell that at least half of Cas’s joy stemmed from helpless adoration.
December 6th
Castiel’s weekend had been filled with preparing the winter finals for his students, but whenever he’d had a free minute, his mind had wandered back into a softly lit, sharply scented store and to its welcoming owner. After what felt like the 12th time in a row, Cas decided that he couldn’t go on daydreaming about a man who was, for all Cas knew, straight, and even if that wasn’t the case, he would never be interested in someone like Castiel.
He had almost convinced himself his coping strategy was working, when Sam came into the office on Monday morning, bundled up in a woollen hat and scarf, his cheeks ruddy. With his size he looked a bit like Yeti himself.
“Morning, Cas!” he greeted cheerfully.
“Good morning to you as well. What happened to you?” Cas asked curiously. Usually Sam came straight from his eco-friendly, nicely heated car and there was no reason for him to look like he was two sharp gusts of icy wind away from being frozen into a sasquatch-sized popsicle.
Sam’s face twitched a little with what looked like mischief, but Cas ignored it when Sam answered, “Jess is working the early shift today and she took the car because there was too much snow for her to walk to the hospital. So I had to take the bus.”
Cas nodded understandingly. Jess worked as a nurse in the children’s ward of the hospital across town, and had probably had to go to work while Sam was still asleep. They barely ever carpooled for this reason.
“I’m just glad the buses are running at all today. On top of it all I forgot my lunch and I thought I could get us some beignets and coffee from Benny later but, y’know, no car.”
Sam had by now peeled off most of his winter wear and was shaking his head to fluff up his hair which had been flattened to his skull by his hat. He turned to face Castiel and hit him with the full force of his puppy dog eyes.
"I thought maybe… you could go and buy us some lunch? Just go through to Dean and he’ll let Benny know who you are, you won’t even have to pay.”
Cas tried to shake the thought that Sam sounded much too cheerful at the prospect of Cas meeting his brother again.
“And you can check up on Dean’s progress with the ornaments!”
Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam, but he remained the perfect image of innocence.
“As it happens, I have forgotten to pack my lunch as well. But I wouldn’t want to bother your brother.”
Sam waved his hands about and cut Cas off.
“You won’t, I promise!”
That’s how Castiel found himself in front of the joined stores again later that day. He made his way hesitantly into ‘Benny and the Beignets’, the bell jingling cheerfully above his head.
“Be right with ya!”
Benny was making his way to the counter from the back of the bakery, dusting floury hands off on an apron saying ‘kiss the cook” – although Cas wasn’t sure that invitation was also extended towards him.
“You’re ‘Tall, Dark and Handsome’ who got Dean all flustered last week, huh?”
Cas stared at him.
“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” Surely Dean hadn’t been affected by their meeting. That was a ridiculous thought and Cas stamped down firmly on any tendrils of hope that dared make their way up through his ribcage.
Benny just looked at him, exasperatedly, and sighed. He murmured something that sounded a lot like “Pot, meet kettle”, and continued, louder: “Just get over there, he’s in the back. Workshop’s open for customers, so go straight through and don’t scuttle off again just because he’s cussin’ up a storm, alright?”
Cas nodded dazedly and did as he was told. Sure enough, once he came within hearing distance of the workshop, he heard a litany of colourful curses drifting through the room. It stopped abruptly when Dean seemed to hear that someone was approaching.
“Fu – fudge! I’m sorry if there are kids, I was just –“ Dean cut himself off when he caught sight of Cas lingering in the entryway to the workshop. Cas raised a hand and waved awkwardly. He was so out of his depth around Dean, it was disconcerting.
“Cas! I mean, hi! I was just about to call you.” Dean fumbled to get up from where he’d been crouched over a piece of oak on its way to becoming a proud little tin man. Apparently Dean liked the world of Oz as well.
“You were?”
Cas seemed to lose the ability to come up with complex sentences when confronted with Dean’s piercing green gaze.
“Yes, I bumped up your order and finished your pieces this morning and I was wondering if you wanted to come pick ‘em up.”
He rubbed his neck, where Cas could see a blush colouring his skin. What reason did Dean have to feel embarrassed? Was he unsure of his work?
Dean had made his way over to a couple of shelves along the wall, picked up a container about the size of a shoebox and walked over to set it on the counter. Cas followed him, excitement bubbling up when he realised he was about to see the pieces Dean’s hands had carved, for him. Well, not technically for him, but Cas decided to ignore that. Because this particular tactic had worked so well for him so far.
“Sammy might have told me a bit about your family and your siblings, so that I could come up with a personal symbol for each of the pieces. I hope you don’t mind, I thought – I’ll just leave you to, uh, look at them. Take your time. I’ll be – right over there. Yeah.”
With that, Dean made his way back over to his work bench. Cas watched him go, baffled by Dean taking the initiative like that and revisiting his earlier assumption that Dean was somehow insecure about his skills. There was no other reason for him to act so oddly.
After a moment Cas’s curiosity about the box won and he turned to lift the lid. The ornament on top was an intricately carved replica of the house Cas had grown up in after his parents and older brother had died in a car accident. There was the rickety wrap-around porch and even the little sign stating ‘HOME’ in bold letters swinging from the railing and Missouri’s name scrawled on the mailbox. The tiny flag was up. With a lump in his throat Cas let his fingers trail over the minuscule design. It was beautiful and exactly what he’d hoped to be able to give Missouri for Christmas.
Finally Cas managed to put the house aside and picked up the next ornament. The other ones seemed to look roughly the same, although they were all made from different types of wood. There were his siblings’ names and a symbol to the side of each one. A little rolled up newspaper for Michael, who worked as editor in chief for the newspaper of their town. A paintbrush and palette for Anna. Two lollipops crossed like bones would be on a pirate’s flag for Gabriel (Cas chuckled at that one) and a bottle and glass of wine for Balthazar, the wine connoisseur.
When Cas put the fifth ornament to the side, his face scrunched up in confusion. There was another piece in the box, face down and with a small tag attached to its string. Cas lifted it carefully, wondering if Dean had somehow misunderstood him – but then he turned it around and saw his name etched into the wood in swooping cursive script, next to the tiny image of a bee, just like the one on his wrist. Cas gasped and looked over at Dean, who was bustling around in the back, very deliberately not catching Cas’s eye.
With his heart beating a rapid tattoo against his chest, Cas brought the tag dangling from the string closer to his eyes.
Go out with me?
Not processing what he’d read, Cas flipped the tag over, but the other side was bare. He looked up and glanced around the shop, static filling his mind and muffling the hornet’s nest his thoughts were gearing up to become.
When Dean suddenly stepped into his field of vision, Cas startled enough to drop the ornament. Dean caught it, the steadiness of his hands belied by the way his eyes wouldn’t quite meet Cas’s and the tremor in his voice when he said: “You belong to the family, too, Cas. That’s why I made you a piece as well. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
Cas just stared at him, speechless, trying to find words but ultimately blurting out the question that was rattling around his head the loudest.
“I – You… want to go out? With me?”
Dean rubbed a hand through his hair, looking nervous and sheepish and utterly hopeful all at once.
“Well, yes, do you see anyone else here holding a hand-carved invitation?”
Before Cas could think about what he was doing, he had placed the piece back in the box and fitted his hands along the sides of Dean’s face, thumbs smoothing along the freckles on his cheekbones and feeling Dean’s pulse flutter against his palm.
“I would love to go out with you, Dean Winchester.”
Dean let out a gust of breath, somewhere between a relieved chuckle and a breathy sigh. He was so close that Cas could feel the warm breath against his cheeks, sending a tingle across his skin.
“Yeah? Even though I almost carved dicks into your brothers’ pieces because of some of the things Sammy told me?”
Cas felt his face shift into a megawatt grin.
“Yes, Dean, especially because of that.”
“Good.”
Finally, finally Dean leaned down and pressed his lips against Cas’s in a soft, gentle kiss. He lingered for a second before letting his tongue flicker against the seam of Cas’s lips, quick and sweet, then dragged his mouth along the scruff dusting Cas’s jaw and pulled back.
It was just as well that Cas had wound his arms around Dean’s neck, the latter’s arms coming up to grip Cas’s waist firmly because he wasn’t sure his legs would’ve been able to support him. Apparently Dean kissing him like that made him turn to jello in all the right ways.
It’s safe to say that Sam never got his coffee and beignet that day. What he did get was a kiss from his partner-in-matchmaking fiancée and a text from said fiancée’s best friend:
I' m in a meeting with a new artist for the gallery but you and Benny are telling me ALL about this later at card night or so help me, Santa won' t have anything to deliver to you this year!