Actions

Work Header

I Freakin' Love Halloween

Work Text:

 

Dean is pretty damn proud of himself for thinking of it. Granted, it’s no life-altering epiphany and it doesn’t actually solve any of their problems, but he still thinks it’s a good plan. They’re going to celebrate Halloween. Nothing fancy, of course, but it’ll be a little something to raise their spirit.

He’ll call up Charlie and see if she’s in the area. She always knows how to brighten things up, and he’d bet that Halloween is her favorite holiday. It’ll be good.They could all use a reason to laugh.

Especially Cas. Being human is unpleasant and complicated enough when you’re born as one. Dropping into it after existing as something else for a few thousand years, well Dean doesn’t even care to imagine that. So he’s going to remind them all how to loosen up a bit. It’s been too long since he’s seen Cas or Sam smile.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Is that a pumpkin?” Sam asked in disbelief as Dean entered the kitchen, plastic bag in one hand, pumpkin stem in the other.

 

“No, Sammy, it’s a giant orange grape that just happens to look a lot like a pumpkin.” Dean snarks back as he sets it on the counter. This earns him a glare, but he grins against it, glad to see Sam is feeling well enough to be antagonized like this.

 

Dean unloads the plastic bag, humming Kansas under his breath and waiting for the inevitable. Finally Sam lets out a huff and concedes, asking “Why did you get a pumpkin, Dean?”

 

“What else do ya make a jack-o-lantern with?” Dean counters with a grin. Sam’s eyebrows furrow and he searches Dean’s face for a moment, before realising he’s serious.

 

“We don’t celebrate Halloween, Dean. We never have!” Sam protests, looking miffed and confused.

 

Dean doesn’t blame him, after all they pretty much live Halloween every damn day,well the dark side of it anyway. All the candy, glittery costumes and inflatable skeletons kind of make a mockery of their job and it eats at most hunters.

 

“We’ve also never had an ex-angel living with us.” Dean counters, opening the fridge, then adds “And we have to, Sam. When we were kids, we used to do stuff.”

 

“So this is about Cas, then?” Sam inquires, an odd expression on his face. Dean glances away, using the excuse of putting produce in it’s bin, suddenly feeling like Sam is pulling his own version of the angel-soul-searching trick.

 

“It’s about all of us, Sam. It’s about having some fun, because we deserve it every once in a while.” he growls, shutting the fridge door a bit harder than necessary.

 

Sam considers for a moment before nodding. “Okay, man. Sure. Let’s do it.”

 

Sam’s wearing a small unreadable smile that rakes at Dean’s nerves and he grumbles.“Glad I have your approval, princess.”

 

* * * * * *

“I don’t understand it’s purpose.” Cas protests, his brows furrowed as he studies the large bucket of water intently, as if he hopes to divine some explanation from it.

 

“It’s purpose is fun, Cas. And if your angel-brain can’t compute that, then just think of it as an exercise in dexterity.” Dean answers with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Dexterity?” Sam repeats with an incredulous laugh. “You worried about Cas’ oral dexterity, Dean?” he asks, his eyebrows raising and wearing a large grin that tells Dean he’s immensely pleased with himself for the jab.

 

“Shut-up, Sammy!” Dean snaps, shooting him a dark glare and would’ve said more if Cas hadn’t stepped in.

 

“If you find it enjoyable, then I would like to try it.” Cas says, gesturing for Dean to demonstrate what he’s supposed to do.

 

Two hours later and Dean has bobbed four apples, Sam has refused a turn and Cas has managed to catch one apple and get himself very, very wet.

 

“Lemme get you a towel.” Dean offers through his laughs when Cas finally gives up and stands, water splashed down his front and his hair sodden. He looks a bit like a bedraggled kitten and he’s pretty sure Cas is actually pouting a bit. Definitely human.

 

“Don’t worry about it - this is just practice anyway.” he offers. “Just trying to get you trained up for when Charlie gets here.”

 

“I’m pretty sure she is gonna kick everyone’s ass, Dean, no matter how much training or lack thereof we do.” Sam says with a laugh, before nodding towards Cas and prompting “Towel?”

 

“Right.” Dean says, wandering from the room, towards the bathroom.

 

He comes back to find Cas struggling with his shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his shoulders and making it difficult to shrug off.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean demands and it comes our far harsher than he meant it too.

 

Cas finally manages to shed his shirt “Sam suggested I remove this one, and went to get a dry one for me to put on.” he answers with something akin to an apologetic shrug. Dean feels the sudden urge to break something as he watches the movement of Cas’ muscles.

 

Instead he tosses the towel at Cas and hurriedly begins clearing up their “bobbing station”, doing his damndest not to notice the way Cas moves when he ruffles his hair dry with the towel.

 

“I wasn’t sure which one you’d rather have.” Sam says, returning to the room, with a few t-shirts in his hands. Cas takes them all and considers each one.

 

“I thought the loser was supposed to do that.” Sam comments, when he notices sees Dean at work.  Cas has selected a simple grey shirt and slides into it with grace and ease.

 

“I didn’t want to disturb your dress-up time.” he retorts and kicks himself, knowing his sounds snarky and defensive.

 

Sam notices, like always and gives him a searching, concerned look. He then glances towards Cas, but Dean’s doing his best to ignore both of them, so he’s not sure of his brother’s expression. Finally Sam just shakes his head slightly, as if the gesture is meant only for himself and leaves without another word.

 

* * * * * *



He and Sam share clothes all the time. It’s the sort of thing that comes with being siblings of the same gender and living in each other's pockets. When Sam wakes up and grabs a black t-shirt that’s technically his, Dean doesn’t even blink.

 

When Sam layers with a mixture of flannel and denim shirts, half of which are his and half of which are Sam’s, he hardly even notices.Sharing clothes is no big deal for him. It’s just how life has always been.

 

So why the hell does he feel like he’s fighting a stupid grin when Cas wanders into the kitchen in nothing but boxers and his faded Zeppelin shirt? Cas has so few of his own clothes that it’s no surprise that he’d raid Dean’s wardrobe. Hell, Sam may have divided their collective wardrobe with Cas, to make sure he has enough. It’s sensible.

 

That’s not helping Dean with the warm feeling he’s getting. Furthermore that shirt is pissing him off, with it’s freakin’ loose neckline. He’s always found it comfortable, the way it sags below his collar-bone, but now it’s irritating him; giving him glimpses of Cas’ clavicle and chest.

 

He forces himself to turn away on continue fixing the mug of coffee he’d been fixing when Cas entered.

 

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas ask, suddenly behind him, with an empty mug of his own.

 

Dean jumps and swears “Dammit, Cas. Don’t do that!” sloshing coffee onto the counter as he does so. He snatches the roll of paper-towels and begins wiping up his mess.

 

“I apologize. Since you saw me enter the room, I did not think I would startle you.” Cas responds, looking vaguely contrite.

 

Dean doesn’t bother answering and simply tosses the sodden paper-towels into the trash. He grabs his mug from the counter and takes it to the table.

 

“All yours.” he says, gesturing to the coffee-maker, smiling slightly to indicate he’s not as mad as he sounded. Seeming pleased, Cas pours himself a mug.

 

Dean watches him covertly, tossing quick glances his direction, unable to resist grinning at Cas being so domestic. And in his shirt none-the-less. A sudden dejavu hits him, because he’s done this before.

 

Not with Cas, of course. But with certain bed-mates, who he’s spent a week or so with. It’s a "morning after" routine. Wearing each other’s clothes and sipping coffee together. Only he doesn’t remember ever feeling this content. The realisation startles him and a swear slips out before he can stop himself. “Son of a bitch.”

 

Upon hearing him Cas turns around, concern etched on his face. “Are you alright, Dean?” he inquires.

 

“Candy corn!” Dean declares, because he was panicking and it’s the first thing that came to mind.

 

Cas’s brows furrow in utter confusion and Dean quickly recovers himself, adding. “I forgot to get candy corn the other day. It’s a big part of Halloween, man.”

 

Cas’ look of confusion alters to one of concern and he says “Candy corn? That sounds as though it may be related to the corn-based sweetener that the Leviathans were using in their plan to overtake humanity.”

 

Dean laughs and waves away Cas’ concern with a hand “No - not at all. It’s really just flavored sugar that looks like corn.” he explains. “Well, actually it doesn't even look like corn, but, whatever. It’s just candy. And it’s delicious.” he assures.

 

Cas seems to be debating asking why it’s called candy corn if it carries no resemblance to actual corn so Dean add “You’ll like it - trust me.”

 

Cas answers with a serious expression, saying “I’ve always trusted you, Dean.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Uh....Cas, what’re you wearing?” Dean hears Sam ask from the living room. It sounds as though he’s suppressing a laugh.

 

“Isn’t it customary to wear a costume in celebration of Halloween?” Cas responds in evident confusion. An hour hours ago he’d disappeared to explore the bunker, while Dean started dinner. Apparently he’d found something ridiculous and in typical Cas fashion, attempted to further assimilate into humanity by using it, without understanding how it actually functioned.

 

“Uh....yeah.” Sam answers, chuckling lightly. Dean quickly checks on the chicken and shuts off the burner with a pot of rice on it, before hurrying from the kitchen, anxious to see what absurd get-up Cas has managed to put himself in.

 

When he steps into the living room, however, the laugh sticks in his throat. Everything sticks in his throat, words, breath, for several moments. Cas does not look ridiculous. He doesn’t even look like his slightly odd, yet somehow still appealing self. He looks.....well, freakin’ hot. Dean can’t get around that no matter how hard he tries.

 

Cas has found himself a 1940’s US Army uniform. The damn thing looks like it’s made for him. The shoulders fit snugly, accenting their broadness. The pants are slim and ride at his waist, just loose enough to make you wonder about what’s beneath the fabric. Dean’s mind is filled with a static buzz and he’s really not sure what the hell he should do.

 

“I found it in an old store-room.” Cas explains,in an innocent tone when Dean does nothing but stare. Surely he knows what he’s doing.Surely he’s not,he cannot possibly be that oblivious.

 

“Aren’t you a little of for the whole trickortreat thing?” Dean has finally found his voice and is immensely proud  of himself for forming a coherent and sarcastic response. Yeah, his tone’s a little husky, but he doubts anyone notices. Sam’s side-ways glances towards him proves otherwise.

 

“Do you have to “trick or treat” to wear a costume?” he inquires, his tone serious and his face one of concentration. The precise pronunciation of the words sounds odd, when they’re so typically run together.

 

“No, just didn’t expect you to go all Commando on us.” Dean answers, with a shrug. He’s mentally kicking himself, for the unintended double-entendre of  his choice of words, because the last thing he needs right now is to think about Cas having nothing on under those pants. Dammit.

 

Cas’ expression falls slightly, as if he’s worried he’s done something wrong. Sam notices and quickly intervenes, saying “If you’re gonna dress up, you’ve gotta play the part. Give us a salute, Cas.” he’s smiling and his tone is playful and Cas gratefully picks it up.

 

“Salutes are typically exchanged as a gesture of respect from a subordinate to his superior. I was a Seraph in Heaven, a high ranking soldier.” Cas counters, a slight gleam in his eyes, indicating he’s speaking in jest. “ Therefor I believe you should be the ones saluting me.” he finishes, his eyes now on Dean.

 

That bastard. He knows. He has to. Dean thinks to himself, preparing to make a strategic retreat to the kitchen. There’s no way he can stay in here, with Cas parading around in that, without doing something drastic. Like ripping it off of him. Dammit

 

Sam, thankfully, gives Dean the perfect opportunity by laughing at Cas and saying, “Yes, sir.”  and giving him a two-fingered salute.

 

Dean darts to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “I think dinner is ready.” and hurriedly beginning to set out plates.

 

“You might want to change out of that, Cas. You don’t really need to wear it until Thursday.” he hears Sam say, and he’s never felt so damn grateful in his life. Bless you, Sammy

 

* * * * * *

 

“On your knees, soldier.” Dean isn’t sure how he got here, or even where “here” is, but that’s the least of his concerns at the moment. The thing currently captivating all of his interest is Cas, decked out in that damn uniform, accented by a slight smirk and ordering him to kneel

 

“Cas?” he chokes out, unsure if he’s more confused or aroused.

 

“Don’t speak.” Cas commands calmly. Okay, definitely more aroused. He’s a few inches from Cas, breathing heavily and wondering how the hell this all came about and why he isn’t already shoving Cas against the nearest wall.

 

“I said on your knees.” Cas repeats, his tone low and crisp. Dean finds himself complying without a thought. A smile alights on Cas’ lips and he extends a hand, gently running his hand through Dean’s hair.

 

Dean remains immobile as Cas’ fingers gently traces their way down his temple and over his cheekbones. Every nerve seems to be working in hyperdrive, the brushes of skin against skin leave an electric sensation in their wake. His heart is pounding against his chest and he’s pretty damn sure Cas can hear it. Cas’ forefinger wanders from the edge of Dean’s chin, to sweep over his lips. The touch is gentle and teasing, then suddenly gone

 

Dean whimpers in dissent, his already hard cock, throbbing in protest at the loss of contact. Cas lets out a light chuckle at Dean’s distress before murmuring “Hands behind your back, Dean.” in a tone that brokers no argument. Dean offers none.

 

His hands fly behind his back and he clasps his left wrist with his right hand; watching Cas, waiting for an indication of what’s going to happen next. Cas returns his searching glance with a searing one of his own, eyes raking over Dean’s face and neck, dropping to his chest and straight down. Dean is surprised his clothes haven’t disintegrated under the intense scrutiny and when Cas’ eyes drop to the bulge within his jeans he lets out a whine, as if the hot gaze were warm fingers stroking him.

 

A slight grin flickers across Cas’ face, obviously pleased with the effect he’s having. Finally he drops to one knee in front of Dean, ordering “Keep your hands where they are. If you attempt to touch me I will leave. Nod if you understand.”

 

Dean’s surprised that he has enough coherent thought left to process the order and he nods quickly, eagerly, earning him another grin from Cas. “Very good.” he murmurs, before gripping the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. Dean’s senses explode and it takes every ounce of self control to keep him from wrapping himself around Cas.

 

The kiss is chaste at first, painfully teasing, nothing more than soft brushes and a gentle nibble. Dean remains in position, struggling with the urge to knock Cas to the floor and straddle and grind against him.

 

“Cas” he implores in a desperate whimper. He’s forgotten about the not talking rule, but it would seem Cas has as well. His plea spurs Cas into action and he cups Dean’s face with both hands now, sliding his tongue between Dean’s lips, pleasure assaulting every nerve.

 

“Beep!Beep!Beep!” the obnoxious tone cuts through his dream and he suddenly finds himself scrambling into a sitting position, sheets tangled around him. “Son of a bitch!” he swear, harshly cutting off his alarm clock, before collapsing backwards.

 

“Fucking hell, this is bad.” he groans, raking a hand across his face. Cas has got is hard enough, being newly human, he doesn’t need to deal with him like this.

 

“Dean! Charlie’s gonna be in here in like two hours. We’ve got stuff to do, man!” Sam calls from the hall. Steeling himself for the day and the sight of Cas in that freakin’ costume again he shouts back “Alright - I’m up! Lemme grab a shower!”

 

* * * * *

“Hey there, strangers” Charlie greets, when Dean opens the door for her. She’s dressed in bright purple and green shirt with a skeleton on it and smiling brightly. He can’t help but grin in response.

 

She wraps him in a quick hug before he says “Come on.” he says, stepping back and indicating for her to follow. Sam and Cas come into the room when they hear her enter.

 

“First thing’s first - Charlie, this is Cas.” Dean says, smiling when Cas approaches, with his hand extended. “It’s nice to meet you. Sam and Dean have told me much-”

 

Charlie cuts of his greeting and bypassed his handshake, instead wrapping him in a hug. Cas is a bit taken aback by the affectionate gesture, but awkwardly returns it after a moment.

 

“Nice to finally meet the Spock to Dean’s Kirk.” she says, before stepping back. Cas is of course, very confused, but Dean can guess what she’s implying and he shoots her a glare. She elects to ignore it however and gives Sam a hug instead, affectionately grumbling about how tall they all are.

 

“We’re setting up in here” Dean says, leading her into the living room, while Sam and Cas follow.

 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick out horror movies to watch with you guys?” Charlie complains when they get there.

 

“I mean, nothing is scary on-screen after spending time with you guys.” she continues, setting her large messenger back on the table and rifling through it

 

“So I opted for funny instead.” her hands emerge gripping Ghostbusters and Nightmare Before Christmas.

 

Dean gives a barking laugh when Sam drops his head into his hands. “Oh god, Charlie” he groans. “Dean loves that movie.”

 

“Nightmare before Christmas?” She questions in surprise.

 

“What? No! Ghostbusters, dude.” Dean counters, while Sam continues to shake his head. Cas watches the scene unfold quietly, obviously bemused by the entire situation.

 

“I’m sensing this is a bad thing?” she asks, casting a curious glance around, waiting for an explanation.

 

“Yes, because he’ll sing that stupid song for days.” Sam grumbles throwing Dean a dark glare as he begins “If there’s somethin’ strange in your neighborhood-.”

 

“Shut.Up.” Sam growls.

 

“If there’s somethin’ weird and it don’t look good, who you gonna call?” Dean continues, then pauses, waiting for someone to pick up the response.

 

“The Winchesters?” Cas suggests after a moment in thought. Charlie loses it,  laughing so hard she has to bend forward and support herself on the table, and it even gets Sam chuckling.

 

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost.” Charlie manages breathlessly, when she finally stops laughing. “You guys should totally get that on t-shirts. Or business cards.”

 

“See, Sammy. Now we have to watch the movie to teach Cas the proper response.” Dean declared triumphantly.

 

Sam gives Charlie and exasperated look and says “I hate you.”

 

She grins and chirps “I know.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“That is freakin’ unreal!” Dean admires, looking over Charlies work on their pumpkin. Who knew she’d turn out to be an expert pumpkin-carver.

 

“It is quite impressive.” Cas agrees, as she deftly finishes the ragged edge of the Dementor’s cloak.

 

“Shush.” Charlie remonstrates, as she continues working, moving from the Dementor to begin work on the giant spider outline she’s drawn on earlier.

 

Dean had intended for them all to pitch in and carve the pumpkin, in fact they all still have their tools in hand, but once Charlie had started working none of them wanted to risk ruining the masterpiece she was currently creating.

 

He glances at Cas, who is watching her work with rapt attention, as if he can absorb her skill if he gazes intensly enough.

 

“Maybe you should get your costume on, Cas.” Sam suggests after several more moments of reverential silence. “I don’t think there’s anything any of us can really do in here.”

 

Shit He’d actually managed to forget about the whole uniform issue with everything else that’d been happening, but memories of his dream strike him full-force.

 

“Tell me Cas isn’t the only one dressing up.” Charlie protests, looking up from her work on the legs. “You guys are not seriously going to parade around in flannel and jeans on Halloween.” she chastises.

 

“We haven’t the time or money to bother with costumes!” Dean argues defensively. Charlie stares him down with a disapproving glare, and he sees Sam warily watching the knife in her hand.

 

“Do you still have the clothes you got when you went into the 1800s?” Cas offers helpfully. “You could be cowboys.”

 

“Uh....yeah.” Sam answers after a moment in thought. Dean nods to indicate he has his as well.

 

“Good.” Charlie says brightly. “Go get ready. I’ll put mine on when I’ve finished.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Never pegged you as the sort to have a thing for men in uniforms.” Charlie says when she drops onto the couch beside him. She's in all black, and her face is partially obscured by the cat-woman mask she's wearing. Cas and Sam are in the kitchen, mixing up apple cider and some snacks. 

 

“What the hell are you talking about ?!” Dean blusters, though he knows it’s in vain. Charlie has always had an uncanny ability to read him.

 

She rolls her eyes and counters “You’ve hardly looked at Cas since he put that costume on. So either you guys had a fight when you got changed and you’re pissed at him or you can’t see him in that costume without thinking about getting it off of him.” She levels him with a no-nonsense glare and waits for a reply.

 

He considers making up some bullshit excuse to leave the room, or continue to vehemently deny her words, but in the end he decides he doesn’t have the energy to bother and Charlie probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.

 

He lets out a wry, self-deprecating laugh and affirms “Yeah. I’m screwed.”

 

“Woah there, Sunshine. What makes you say that?” Charlie protests, turning to face him completely.

 

He doesn’t bother to give any response other than raising one eyebrow to indicate her question is an idiotic. He doesn’t speak but the words hang heavy in the air as if he has I’m screwed because why the hell would he want me?

 

Charlie doesn’t give him a sympathetic smile. She doesn’t sigh and mutter some chick-flick crap about everything working out. Instead she punches him in the arm. Hard.

 

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” He snaps, sliding away from her and rubbing his arm.

 

“That was for being an idiot and a coward.” she answers and continues “Have you not seen the way Cas looks at you?”

 

“That’s just Cas.” Dean protests. “He does that soul-searching gaze all the time. It’s just his angel weirdness coming through.”

 

“He watches you all the time. And I’m not talking casual observation, I’m talking intense scrutiny, like he’s scared to miss a minute of your existence. And he hasn’t looked at Sam like that once.” She argues in the calm tone of someone who knows they’ve just dealt a trump card that’s put them close to victory.

 

He sinks into the couch with a despondent sigh. She could be right a hopeful part of his mind supplies. She could also be horribly wrong the rational part counters.

 

“Hey, are you gonna make your move or do I have to hit you again?” Charlie demands, breaking into his worried thoughts.

 

“What, now?!” he protests, giving her a look that indicates he thinks she’s insane.

 

“Yes, now. Why not?” She counters, gesturing to the kitchen. “Come on, Winchester. Cowboy-up.”

 

Sam enters the room at that moment, carrying a tray of glasses. “Cas will be out in a minute with the chips.” he says, setting the tray down.

 

“Dean can give him a hand. They have something to discuss anyway.” Charlie chimes in, smiling at Dean.

 

“Oh - uh - okay...” Sam says, shooting a confused glance between the two of them.

 

“I hate you.” Dean growls out, but he stands and heads for the kitchen.

 

“I know!” she calls after him, with a grin in her tone.

 

* *  * * * * 

When Dean attempts to stretch his arms and is halted by something firm and warm beside him, it takes a moment for him to understand what’s going on. When that firm and warm something lets out a soft, sleepy sigh, he remembers and grins.

 

Cas shifts beside him, unawakened by Dean’s clumsy movements. Dean can’t resist gently shifting close to him and placing a few soft kisses on his bare shoulder. Dark marks have formed along his collarbone from their activities the night before and the sight of them excites memories in his mind.

 

“Dean” Cas mumbles, quietly, when he moves his lips along Cas’ neck. “I’m sleeping.” he protests, trying to burrow into Dean’s chest.

 

Dean laughs softly at his disgruntled tone and concedes, wrapping a gentle arm around his waist and letting Cas snuggle into him and fall back into slumber.

 

He surveys the room, smiling at the crumpled pile of clothing near the door. He liked the uniform on Cas, but he’d enjoyed taking if off even more. “We should purchase a token of gratitude for Charlie” he hears mumbled from his chest.

 

“I thought you went back to sleep.” Dean comments, his tone amused. “And how did you know what Charlie said to me?”

 

Cas yawns before answering “I didn’t. But I could hear you conversing in the living room right before you came into the kitchen and told me of your affections.”

 

“Look at you, Sherlock.” Dean says with a laugh.”Gorgeous and clever.” he punctuates the last word by pressing a kiss to Cas’ unruly hair.

 

“I think Halloween is my favorite holiday.” Cas says after several moments for silence. Dean grins and agrees “Definitely has it’s moments.”