#sorry forrr mistakes lmao

[estrel]

Saving Grace (And Staying Put)

destiel december 2020 prompt: presents | wc: ~1.3k

russian translation available thanks to @hereigoagain !!

[READ ON AO3] [RUSSIAN]

"What'd you think?"

Dean's staring at Cas, a glass full of eggnog resting against his lips. Behind the rim of it he’s hiding a smile at Cas' thoughtful squint, as Cas watches the end credits roll on the television.

"I think...I still don't understand. Are you meant to be my George Bailey?"

Dean splutters into his drink at that, sitting up to wipe eggnog from his mouth and set the cup on the coffee table. He shoots Cas a look, but Cas is still frowning, head tilted in question and maybe a little bit of concern at Dean's reaction.

After watching a myriad of Christmas movies that included Gremlins (a classic), Home Alone (another classic) and Krampus (Jack was not a fan), Sam and Jack had disappeared off to bed and Dean had stuck It's A Wonderful Life into the DVD player. His hope had been that Cas would get his Clarence references after watching it, but instead Cas was comparing Dean to the suicidal businessman that the angel saves in the movie.

What had made Dean choke was that he wasn't exactly wrong.

"I—I guess I am, man, yeah. I mean, I'd like to think I'm a little less pathetic, and I'm probably not as nice as he is, but it's...you're not too far off."

Their eyes meet, and Dean reaches between them for the remote.

"But I'm," Cas says, in a tone that makes Dean pause. "I'm not an angel anymore."

Dean sits back on the couch again, shifting once to get comfortable. "So?"

"So..."

He waits for Cas to continue, rubbing a thumb over the buttons on the remote as the silence stretches. The credits on the TV come to a stop. 

"So, I'm not...’Clarence’ anymore."

"And...what? Is that supposed to faze me, or something?" Dean looks at him again, and Cas' face expresses his apparent uncertainty. 

Dean smooths out his frown, opting instead to get across some of his own sincerity by dropping the deflections for a second.

"Cursed or not, Cas," he says gently, "Angel or not. Doesn't matter, we're...I—I'm better with you. So none of that leeriness, okay? Because you're more than just a set of fluffy wings and a halo."

He thinks Cas might take a crack at him again, indulge him that angels don’t have halos or harps or whatever Dean had said, but he doesn’t. He watches Dean for a long moment, all the while Dean pointedly tries not to notice, flipping channels for something else to watch. The Grinch might be good. 

“I have something for you.”

Cas reaches into a pocket, keeping his hand there while he thinks of how to proceed.

“I know it’s Christmas Eve, and that’s not typically when gifts are given... I also know that there’s probably a whole ritual that has rules and I’m sure you’re very picky about them, but I still...I don’t know if this will count as a present. But I still want to give it to you, if you’ll accept it,” Cas says. 

Dean feels his heart racing, thrumming against his chest so fast it makes him lightheaded. He simply nods, not trusting himself to speak, and watches as Cas pulls out the chain of a necklace until it reveals a small glowing vial that hangs off of it. 

On instinct, Dean reaches out to touch it, hovering his fingers just over the glass. He lifts his gaze to look at Cas. 

“Cas...what is this?”

The essence inside the vial swirls, a bright blue almost the shade of Cas’ eyes. Dean’s entranced, watching as it rhythmically shifts and moves against the glass. 

“It’s me,” Cas replies. “Well, more accurately...it’s my Grace.” 

Dean freezes. 

“Come again?”

Cas sighs softly. “My Grace.”

“You—you saved it?” Dean means to ask ‘How?’ next, but his mouth says, “And you’re giving it to me?”

Cas nods. 

“Why?”

Cas lets his arm relax, lowering it so that the necklace rests between them on the seat cushion of the couch. “You...gave me my humanity, Dean. You showed me how to care about...about everyone. I know I can never repay you for that, but I thought...I thought the least I could do was give a part of myself in return. I—” he hesitates, biting his bottom lip in thought.

“What?”

“No, nothing. I just...hope that you’ll accept it.”

Cas lifts it again in offering, and Dean moves his hand to fit the vial against his palm. It's warm to the touch. Dean wraps his fingers around it, and Cas lets go of the chain. It falls limply against Dean's knuckles.

"Thank you, Cas," He says, bringing it close to his heart. Cas smiles.

"Actually, I uh...I have something for you, too," Dean adds. With his free hand, he digs into his jean pocket and pulls it out, suddenly feeling that it’s a little dumb in comparison to the gift Cas just gave him.

"It's, ah, not exactly angel Grace, but," he holds out the flat of his palm, showing Cas.

Cas takes it from Dean's hand, holding it as if it’s as precious as the necklace Dean is clutching onto for dear life. He levels Dean with a serious stare.

"Are these...?"

"Keys," Dean says, "One's for Baby, and the other's for the Bunker."

Cas is quiet, so Dean keeps going. "I figured, y'know, without your Grace, you'll be needing to get places and, well, keys...open doors." He mentally curses himself. Keys open doors? He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head a little to reset himself. 

"What I mean to say is, now it'll be easier to get home. You can come and go when you'd like, and you don't have to wait for one of us to let you in."

Cas' eyebrows twitch at that. "Home," he repeats, but it’s said like a question.

Dean nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, Cas. Home.” He looks away, startled a little by Cas’ sincere eyes that search his face. “If—If you’ll accept it.”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly. “I accept.”

“Good,” Dean responds. He tries to ignore how the racing of his heart makes his hands shake. He looks down at the necklace. It swings a little, gently touching his chest.

“Um,” Dean holds it out to Cas. He waits a moment too long, though, because he can see Cas’ smile beginning to falter. “Do you think you could help me with this?”

Stunned, Cas takes the necklace and Dean bows his head, feeling his ears go red. It’s a sign of trust, Dean knows, to let your guard down like this in their line of work. It’s like baring your neck to a vampire, or falling asleep next to a djinn.

Cas moves closer on the couch, and their knees touch just barely. Dean watches Cas’ Grace dip underneath his chin as Cas pulls the chain around his neck. He can feel Cas’ arms raised on either side of him as he fastens it, can smell Cas’ scent from how close they are. 

Then Cas is done, fingertips brushing the back of Dean’s neck as he rests the cold chain there. His touch lingers, and Dean’s breath catches, and then Dean is lifting his head up. 

They’re closer than he thought. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Cas gives a small nod, eyes a little wide. His hands are still at the back of Dean’s neck, fingers brushing gently at the hair on Dean’s nape. Dean shivers, unable to contain it. He brings a hand up to Cas’ tie, holding it a moment, before deciding it could use some adjustment. 

Then both hands are fixing the knot, and when Dean is done, he uses the tie as leverage to pull Cas closer. There’s a pause, when both of their noses bump against each other, where Dean gives Cas an out. 

He doesn’t take it.

Dean presses forward, fitting their lips together. It’s the satisfaction of two missing puzzle pieces finally sliding into place, after years of being lost and collecting dirt under a couch. It’s clean, and it’s warm, and it feels like Purgatory all over again—like purity.

When they pull away, Dean’s a little out of breath. He places a hand on Cas’ face, running a thumb over his cheek.

“Stay,” Dean says. “Don’t leave my side again. I want—I want you to stay.”

Cas’ eyes glisten. “I will,” he says. “I will.”

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