once & done: destiel one shots

A Strange Tradition (Cas learns about New Years)

Summary: The television broadcasts a celebration in Times Square, fraught with musicians Castiel has never heard of, shrieking humans in thick coats and peculiar eyewear, and a glowing ball.

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"You realize that for an angel, celebrating a new year is the equivalent of you celebrating a new minute," Castiel points out.

"Are you gonna lecture me all night, or can we watch this?" Dean bites back, increasing the volume on the television.

"Of course," Castiel concedes and sinks further into the couch. The television broadcasts a celebration in Times Square, fraught with musicians Castiel has never heard of, shrieking humans in thick coats and peculiar eyewear, and a glowing ball.

"I don't understand," he says.

"It drops at midnight," Dean informs him.

"Why?" Castiel asks.

"I don't know," Dean says irritably. "It's a symbol. They do it every year."

"It seems like a strange tradition."

Dean shrugs. "I guess."

"What else happens?" Castiel asks.

Throwing up a hand, Dean snaps, "People cheer. They kiss. There are fireworks. People sing. They forget about their shit for a couple minutes, drink a ton, and then everybody goes to bed."

"Ah," Castiel says. "I enjoy fireworks."

Dean turns up the volume further, until Sam pokes his head out of the library and quirks an eyebrow.

"You joining us?" Dean asks, looking back over his shoulder.

"I'm headed to bed," he says. "See you guys in the morning."

"See you next year," Dean says with a grin.

"Oh," Castiel says, understanding. "That's clever."

"Night, Cas," Sam says, unimpressed, and pads to his room.

Castiel is glad it's just the two of them. He taps his toes inside his shoes, and leans a little into Dean's side because Dean is warm and doesn't ask him to move away. Castiel is constantly cold without his grace. He considers resting his head on Dean's shoulder but remains upright. He tries to understand the humor in the banter between the commentators. They are making Dean grin. He drinks beer and elbows Castiel when he thinks something is funny. Castiel elbows him back.

"You would look appealing with pink and blue hair," Castiel comments seriously when ten minutes remain before midnight. Dean makes a strangled noise in reply. People in foam hats sing along to music he doesn't recognize.

When four minutes remain, Dean sways to a song that Castiel quite likes. His shoulder bumps Castiel's with each movement, and once, he almost laughs into his shoulder.

With one minute to go, Dean slaps Castiel's leg and says, "Here we go" as the ball begins its drop. Castiel wishes he'd leave his hand in place.

With ten seconds remaining, Dean counts along. Castiel watches his lips move. The ball lowers on a pole. It's frankly anticlimactic.

At the stroke of midnight, Dean holds his beer up in the air as celebratory music begins to play.

"Happy New Year, Cas," he proclaims and drinks.

On the screen, people scream and wave and press their mouths together. Dean finishes his beer and doesn't kiss Castiel. The screen reads "Happy New Year." Giant flakes of confetti flutter across it.

"Is that it?" Castiel asks, tilting his head as he watches other people wave. Dean's shoulder isn't touching his any longer.

"They'll broadcast for a while," Dean explains, "more singing and stuff, but the ball drop's kinda the big part."

"I see," Castiel says with disappointment and nearly stands for bed when he remembers something Sam said at dinner.

Another tradition, he explained, is making resolutions, amendments to behavior and lifestyle that improve one's overall well being. Castiel decides on his first resolution right then and there, since it's clear Dean is never going to do it.

He turns his head and kisses Dean on the mouth.

Ah, yes. This part he likes.

Dean is initially startled-Castiel discerns this from the way he gasps. Dean's mouth is warm. His lips are chapped and taste like beer. After a few seconds, he leans forward and begins to kiss back, sealing his lips over Castiel's and pressing, almost sweetly. It's better than the handful of kisses Castiel has had, and he thinks that's the difference love must make. He makes a small noise, like a moan, as something warm blooms in his chest, but Dean abruptly pulls away.

"Uh," he says with pink-stained cheeks. It's a beautiful look on him. Castiel makes another resolution to make Dean look like that more often. Much more often. "What was that?"

"You said it was a part of the celebration," Castiel tells him.

"Well, yeah, for couples," Dean mutters.

The third resolution presents itself. He gives Dean a long, patient stare: a silent proposal. He lifts both eyebrows. Scowling, Dean takes a deep breath and casts the beer bottle aside.

"Seriously?" he asks. There is hesitation in his voice, like he thinks Castiel might be joking.

Castiel's fourth resolution is never to hear that hesitation in Dean's voice again, not where he is concerned.

"I gave up an army for you," Castiel says fiercely. "I'd give up a thousand."

"Oh," Dean says, blushing deeply. He shifts closer, so their thighs touch. "So, uh. Where were we?"