Chapter Text
It’s only Thanksgiving, but Dean’s already a hundred percent sure that Ruby is going to ruin Christmas.
As part of her post-rehabilitation scheme she’s like contractually obliged to attempt to repent for her cocaine induced sins, and apparently Dean’s the person she ‘feels guiltiest about’, so he winds up getting regular phone updates about her life (he doesn’t speak in these conversations, generally, and just lets Ruby talk at him for a few minutes before grunting ‘you done?’ and waiting for her to hang up). He suspects she came to this conclusion with a strong push from her sponsor or therapist or whatever other people she’s been seeing rather than off her own back, because he doesn’t believe for one second that Ruby feels guilty about a single thing she put Dean through. More to the point, he’s pretty sure her number one answer and go to guy should be Sam, a fact which Castiel disputes without words (the last time words were used they wound up yelling; Dean’s apparent persistence in believing that Ruby put the needle in his brother’s arm is childish and unrealistic), but because Sam’s an ex-addict Ruby can’t call him up every second Tuesday of the month and tell him that she’s struggling today. And then there’s Jess to consider.
Dean wouldn’t want Ruby talking to Sam, anyway, so he takes these phone calls with a personal sense of martyrdom and a great deal of reluctance, but apparently he doesn’t get a choice in the matter.
Fucking rehab.
It got worse, though, when Sam got wind of the situation. Dean doesn’t like talking about Ruby on the best of days, but especially not on days like Sam’s birthday, which is when the shit hit the fan. Ruby had called him on his cell (he hates that he gave her his damn number) and he’d excused himself from Sam’s birthday meal to take the call. All subtleties had gone to hell when she started prattling on about her new job, some kind of admin work that Ruby hates, because she was bright and ambitious and going someplace before that place became parties and the streets rehab, and apparently she was going to pay him back for the two courses of rehab, one tiny cheque at a time. Dean started yelling about how he didn’t want her money, and Ruby threw out some insult or other, and then Dean may have called her a burnout demon who broke his brother, and the she told him he could go fuck himself. Cas had excused himself by this point and then proceeded to lay into Dean for yelling at an ex-addict he was sort of supposed to be helping, and acidly asking whether he’d be prepared to pay for the third course of rehab after the relapse he’d probably caused. A call to Ruby’s sponsor, an explanation and three arguments later, Sam was in the know. And Ruby started sending him cheques (‘it’s a tax on my past debauchery, Winchester, and you just happen to be where I’m sending my tax returns, so fucking deal with it’).
Which directly led to this moment right here, where Sam had asked Dean what Ruby was doing for Thanksgiving (‘probably lying in a ditch somewhere, who cares?’) and then insisted on inviting the bitch to Dean’s (and Castiel’s) house so that she wasn’t alone for Thanksgiving. Ruby had apparently expressed the fact that she was worried about it, and because her partner in previous-crimes was also going to be there and that’s dangerous temptation territory, she came hand in hand with her fucking sponsor turned recovery aid or whatever hell label they’re going for.
Meg technically works at the hospital and Dean tolerates her professionally because she is excellent at her job, but he probably hates her. Cas no doubt pulled a few strings in order to get Meg assigned to Ruby in the first place, because the pair of them get along far too well for Dean’s comfort. Still, she’s just above Dick Roman and Hitler on the list of people Dean wouldn’t like to have in his house for Thanksgiving (all of whom are above Ruby).
Castiel is actually the only person who likes Meg, and he’s on call so might be paged into the hospital at any moment, so the whole Thanksgiving situation is nothing short of horrifically awkward: Bobby’s been flatly starting at Ruby and Meg like he’s scared they’re going to burn the place down since they arrived, Ellen keeps sighing at him and trying to make the peace, but she’s the one helping him cook so she’s barely there, Jo doesn’t seem to know what to make of the situation and Jess seems, understandably, just as awkward and keeps glancing at Ruby before looking away. Other than Sam, who looks too nervous and worried to make conversation, that leaves Cas to orchestra the whole encounter to run smoothly… and Cas aint exactly a pro at navigating social situations.
This is a guy who tried to discuss the role of the pizza man in some porno the second time he met Sam, the first being after the god awful first of January when Dean kicked him out in order to have a sexuality crisis because Sam turned up. He probably made a better impression when Dean was half naked and Cas was, at least to Sam, inexplicably being asked to leave the apartment.
“Nice place you got here, Clarence,” Meg says, as Dean brings through the turkey. He’d like a little bit appreciation and stunned exclamations of surprise, but everyone’s too distracted by the fact that Dean’s boyfriend (fiancé, actually), is all buddy-buddy with Ruby’s sponsor. And probably trying to work out who the hell Clarence is, because Meg is allergic to calling him by his real name, which sucks because nicknames are Dean’s personal thing.
It is a damned nice house and Dean supposes it is worth commenting on, but then it’s their house and the Cas-and-Deanness of it all seems a little too personal to have the likes of Meg and Ruby floating round and judging them. He feels like the fact that their only photos aren’t framed but tacked up on the walls or on the fridge is a little too revealing, and that the slightly frayed edges of the singular photo of Dean, Sam, John and Mary all together shows a little too much history. Their choice of furniture and even the damned walls smacks too much of the hundreds of debates they’ve had about how best to do domesticity. Maybe Dean’s being a little too paranoid, and maybe no one can pick up on their practicality vs economical vs durability conversation by the way they’ve angled their fucking sofa, but he’s never owned a house before and it’s weird. It’s theirs, it’s personal and he doesn’t like Ruby absorbing it.
“Thank you, Meg,” Cas says, glancing up at him and meeting his eyes, which is apparently all the approval Dean’s going to get for his hours slaving over the damn turkey. Cas has never been particularly clued up in the right way to respond when someone’s spent hours cooking (unless Dean makes burgers, in which he gets the kind of response that should belong in a porno), but he usually gets at least a smile and cursory thank you. Evidentially, the strain of trying to conduct a conversation in such a hostile environment is taking its toll.
That, or he’s just still exhausted from work yesterday.
Ellen comes in with a dish of roast veg and the plates and everyone starts handing out them out in near silence, because the icy quiet that comes with a reminder of Sam’s past hasn’t defrosted yet. It will. Probably.
Maybe before the ice cream for dessert has defrosted, but not necessarily so.
“You love birds thought any about filling those spare bedrooms?” Meg asks, looking like she’s enjoying the whole conversation far too amusing for Dean’s personal comfort.
“Why? You looking for somewhere to lodge, Meg?”
“No, Deano, I’m talking about the pitted patter of tiny little doctors and nurses,”
“We don’t exactly got the right equipment,” Dean says, frowning as he gets caught in the limbo of sitting down and standing up. Ruby snorts at him, throwing her head back into an awful laugh. He’s struck again by how much he actually loathes the bitch, but Sam looks like Ruby laughing would be reason enough for Thanksgiving all by itself. Jess looks uncomfortable. Fuck this shit.
“So adopt, genius,” Meg says.
Dean’s still flailing around for a response when Cas cuts in.
“Our schedules would make it difficult.” Castiel says, like this is something they’ve discussed at any point within the past two years of their relationship, which it isn’t. In fact, Dean can count the conversations they’ve had even slightly near this region on one hand and nearly all of those occasions were centred around Castiel’s niece and nephews, and nothing to do with the prospect of adoption. Or families. Or babies. Or anything.
Dean chokes.
Bobby is rolling his eyes, Jo is smothering a laugh and Ruby looks like she’s fucking delighted at his discomfort, but Cas hasn’t appeared to notice due to the level he’s absorbed in his conservation Meg. At least, Dean supposes, he’s keeping the demon-woman occupied, even if there’s another one on his left that’s watching him with distinct interest.
“I’ll give thanks to that,” Jo says, holding up her beer with a grin. “Happy Thanksgiving, guys.”
“Let’s hope it goes better than last year,” Dean mutters.
“Killjoy,” Jo shoots back.
“That’s a good point, kid,” Ellen says, “Christmas. Who’s hosting?”
“Ah, hell,” Dean complains because conversations about Christmas have never gone his way, particularly with Castiel kind of involved and, more to the point, his brain his still stuck on the thought that Cas has thought about children enough that he’s thought of reasons not to… and does that mean he doesn’t want to ever? Or the he thinks their schedules would never allow it? Or was that just some line to throw at Meg? “Well, we ain’t having you all invading our hospitality again,” Dean says, because he’s hoping that it not being at Dean’s house will mean that Ruby doesn’t wind up involved. He fucking hates Ruby.
“We were at Sam’s last year,” Ellen says.
“For some of it, anyway,” Bobby mutters, darkly.
Cas’ phone rings before anyone can make a comment on the disaster that was last year (least of all Ruby, because he’s had at least one phone conversation with her when she’s said that she wished Dean had just let her die on the side of the road because then she’d feel less guilty, all the fucking time, and it would be so much easier; and once upon a time Dean wished that had happened too, but recently not so much, but he especially does not want to hear Ruby say anything more about it).
“Excuse me,” Cas says, picking up his phone.
“Naomi?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods before excusing himself. Now there’s no one to derail Meg, who’s reclining in one of chairs and looking acidly between Dean and Sam. Jo coughs. “Cas’ Mom,” Dean says, although Dean suspects that everyone had already worked out that.
“You set a date for making him an honest man yet?” Meg asks, because she’s an out and out demon who’s enjoying how uncomfortable she’s making him.
Honestly, they hadn’t gotten all that far with their let’s-get-married plan, choosing instead to spend their savings on an actual vacation together involving time off, flights and the beach. It boiled down to Cas wanting to go someplace and Dean humouring him because he didn’t really care where ever the fuck the wound up, as long as there were hotel rooms to screw in and he actually got to spend time with Cas, which was always a damn miracle. He hadn’t counted on getting sand literally everywhere and Cas turning this brown colour Dean’s never seen, and him being relaxed and happy and pointing out on their last day that gay marriage was legal, here. The latest discussion on the matter had somehow transformed into a trip around Europe, which Dean had suggested sarcastically, but then Cas got super enthused about the idea and started talking about taking all the time off he hasn’t had off for years, and Dean can’t say no to the guy when he gets that excited. The flights are going to be actual hell, but Cas has already bribed him with sexual favours so he’ll probably manage to suffer through it.
A second holiday had seemed more pressing than making something that was already official, as far as Dean was concerned, properly official, without getting into the legal bullshit about how to make their marriage or union or whatever stick. They own a house together, they share a bank account and Cas is wearing his Mom’s engagement ring on a chain round his neck; why do they some court approved scrap of paper to say their relationship is any more real than it is already?
“You enjoying this?” Dean asks, surveying Meg over his currently untouched plate. Thanksgiving is his kind of holiday, all food and booze and hanging out with family, and he doesn’t like the fact that he’s required to claw his way through nine layers of hell before he gets a mouthful of turkey. There’s at least six awkward conversations to go before they get to the pie.
“I am,” Ruby pipes up, plucking a sweet potato chip out of the dish that Sam bought along, despite his mash related instructions. Whatever. “Food and free entertainment. This doesn’t suck as bad as I thought it would.”
“Shut up,” Dean mutters, although he’s not as disheartened by the fact that Ruby’s enjoying himself as he thought he would be. At least if she’s sat at his table and eating his food then he knows she’s not shooting up in some back alley. For Sam’s sake.
“What’s Naomi want?” Dean asks, when Cas returns from the kitchen with the familiar expression he gets when he’s talked to his mother, like he’s been reset to zero and needs a few minutes to work out who he is again.
“Christmas.”
“Huh?”
“She wants us to fly out to Maine for Christmas,” Cas says.
“Tell her it’s our anniversary and shit.”
“I very much doubt she’d believe me,” Cas says, “No one’s anniversary is Christmas Day, Dean, it’s highly implausible.”
“We have plans,” Dean says, even though they don’t really. He’d assumed that they’d be doing a repeat of last year (without Ruby drama, hopefully) and doing Christmas with Sam or Bobby, even though they’d never really discussed it. Gabriel is at Thanksgiving with Kali and her friends, and is planning to fly home for Christmas, so it does work out that the holiday season is a lot more Winchester sided than Milton sided, but…. He really fucking hates Cas’ family.
“Not really,” Sam says, “We didn’t really get that far.”
“It’s a long way for a couple of days,”
“She wishes us to stay the week,” Cas says, his voice even. “And return after the New Year.”
“Man, that’s bullshit, that’s a weeks’ holiday wasted.”
“On seeing my mother,” Cas says, voice slightly less even.
“But Europe,”
“We haven’t flown there for eighteen months, Dean,”
“For good reason,” Dean mutters, before immediately regretting it. Cas narrows his eyes at him. “Oh come on, man, you remember what a god damn disaster last time was.”
Dean, as it turns out, is not very good at meeting the parents. Particularly one’s who are slightly homophobic and would have taken any excuse to hate him, even if Dean wasn’t their least favourite kind of person packaged in a leather jacket and a bad attitude. Mrs Milton visited once after the fiasco where Dean, hungover as fuck, half proposed and fully propositioned him within her earshot, and then Dean couldn’t seem to stop making gay sex jokes or bringing up his atheism. He wound up having a (very audible) bust up with Cas about playing happy families and Cas storming out, which Naomi made ten times worse by giving him this speech about how she knew Dean wanted Cas to return to him and all this crap about how Cas had never really cared about him, not really, like Dean didn’t have a house contract and a half-marriage plan to prove otherwise. It still got to him, though, and he spent the next few days really believing her until Sam talked him round. Angry sex with Cas on the sofa had helped, too, and Cas had pointed out that Dean’s New Year’s Resolution had been to be nice to his mother, and Dean had pointed out that Cas had yelled her out of Kansas in the end, too.
“Your Mom hates me. Can’t we just stay here and send her a postcard from Italy?”
“I haven’t attended Christmas with my family for five years.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, “Because your family are a bunch of pretentious a-holes with a God complex and power issues.”
“Dean,”
“Cas. I hate your Mother and I’m not going.” The ensuring silence after the words leave his lips makes him instantly regret them because, yeah, you’re not supposed to lay into your future in-laws in front of your whole family (plus some extras) at Thanksgiving dinner. Especially when that’s not even the problem, anyway. He just hates the way Cas changes around his parents. He hates that Cas does that thing where he still wants to please them even though it’s irrational and unfair. So, whenever they spend time with the Miltons Dean overcompensates and acts like a jerk, they all judge him, and Cas sinks back into himself and creates this massive distance that Dean can’t seem to get past until Cas lets him, which is usually days after the event.
“I’m going to check on the pie,” Cas says, voice clipped and overly formal, then he’s back out the door he just entered and into the kitchen. Dean’s shoulders slump downward.
“You available for bah mitzvahs too?” Ruby asks the silence, over her fork.
“Dean,” Sam exhales, the spell of speechlessness unfortunately broken, “If this is you worried about me - ”
“ – don’t lay this on yourself, Sam,” Jo says, eyes narrow slits, “Not your fault Dean’s allergic to the festive seasons.”
“So two years of shit for skipping Christmas and now you want me to go?” Dean asks, “Talk about mixed messages.”
“Kid, we don’t care where you do Christmas s’long as you pull your head out of your ass long enough to enjoy it.”
He’s about to profess that he hasn’t got a hope in hell of enjoyment if Naomi is anywhere near him, but cuts himself off at the pre-emptive disappointment look he’s getting from Ellen.
“You just gonna let him take that out on the pie, y’idijt?” Bobby grunts, rolling his eyes in Dean’s direction. It’s Bobby’s general ornery grumpiness that snaps him out of it, because that’s been a staple for decades, and has him rolling his eyes and standing up. He’d have run after Cas straight away if it wasn’t for Ruby and Meg and his whole damn family there in the first place, but then Cas probably wouldn’t have left. Dean would have been treated to Cas’ passive-aggressive bullshit instead.
“Cas,” Dean says, managing to cut the irritation out of his voice before he reaches the kitchen, settling on coaxing. Cas has gotten the pie out of the oven and is looking it, slightly bemused, which is almost a hundred percent down to the fact that Cas skipped out any time he might have had to learn how to bake in medical school. “I’m sorry I said I hate your Mom, okay?”
“You’re sorry you said you hate my mother or you’re sorry that you hate my mother,” Cas says, experimentally prodding the pie and pulling his hand back, quickly, as a result. Cas stares at his hand like it’s somehow offended him and shakes his finger like that will stop it being burnt.
“Which means you’re less mad at me?” Dean asks, steering Cas to the sink and thrusting his hand under the cold water, because the guy has the doctor trait of thinking he’s above minor injuries like burns. Cas frowns at him. “Right, I’m supposed to know.” Dean continues, slotting himself behind Cas at the sink, “Gonna go with both. I’m sorry that we kinda argued in front of our family, friends and resident drunk addict. M’sorry that that made you look like a schmuck for agreeing to marry a douchebag like me. I’m sorry,” Dean says, into the skin of Castiel’s neck, “That I act like a jerk in front of your Mom and I’m definitely sorry that your mom is such a bitch.”
“Dean,” Cas chastises, but he’s leaning back into his touch so Dean’s going to go with it, because Cas doesn’t want to go hang out with Naomi and the rest of the crazies that make up his family any more than Dean does. He just feels obliged to.
“Thanksgiving isn’t my finest hour, man, and Ruby and Sam in the same room is just –”
“– the food is delicious, Dean,”
“You haven’t even eaten any yet, Cas,” Dean says, running his hands over Cas’ hips. He’s actually almost glad he pissed Cas off enough that he’s out the room, because it means he can restore a little strength before he returns to the party. He’s been locked in the kitchen and stressing out about the whole damn thing for hours.
“Ignore Meg,”
“Man, I wish I could,” Dean says, pulling away and putting the pie back in the oven, because he hasn’t completely lost track of his priorities. “It’s the way she looks at me, Cas. And she totally has a doctor kink and then I’m just a nurse, so she’s wondering why the hell you even keep me around…”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cas says, “You have no basis for that assumption.”
“Cas,” Dean sighs, “You’ve seen Dr Sexy.”
Cas rolls his eyes and walks back into their main room smiling.
*
He manages not fuck Thanksgiving up any further, but only because he keeps quiet and resolutely doesn’t mention Christmas.