"Aren't you gonna kiss me, Meg?" Castiel asks while holding a cheap plastic imitation sprig of mistletoe above them. Meg just quirks an eyebrow and stares him down while she lowers her magazine.
"Cas, look- this is all a bit much don't you think? It looks like holiday isle of Wal-Mart threw up in here." She takes a quick glance around the living room, there's strings of twinkling lights hanging everywhere, the tree is nearly falling over because Cas doesn't have any sense for ornament placement and he's overloaded one side with one too many plastic gingerbread men, and she knows which presents he tried to wrap, battled with may be a better phrase judging by the paper cuts he gave himself wrestling with the snowflake patterned sheets. Meg glances up from her seat and Cas is still leaning over her, mistletoe in hand and a hopeful glee in his eyes he's not even trying to contain. "Is that tinsel in your hair?"
“I’m waiting Meg, my dear.” And she just rolls her eyes before standing and plucking the metallic string out of his hair, ruffling his dark locks and sending another couple of pieces of glitter scattering over his shoulders.
“You’re nuts and that’s not even real mistletoe, angel-face.” Meg scoffs and turns to leave when she feels Castiel’s strong grip on her wrist and suddenly she’s in his arms. He’s guiding her hands to his shoulders and once he’s sure she’s not gonna yank ‘em away he settles his grip onto her waist, a shy smile fluttering across his mouth as he starts to set up a swaying rhythm.
“I really can’t stay…” He starts to sing and Meg lets out a sigh, ready to start objecting to this nonsense, but he continues, “Baby, its cold outside…”
“Cas, c’mon what’re you-“she can’t really finish the rest of her protest with Castiel’s lips pressed against hers.
“Beautiful, what’s your hurry?” Cas keeps whispering the lyrics against her cheek and lets the briefest twitch of a triumphant smirk forms on his face when he feels the brush of her eyelashes fluttering shut. They drift like that for a while, in the middle of every holiday cliché imaginable littering the room, Castiel humming ‘Baby, Its Cold Outside’ and Meg breathing in his peppermint smell, and it’s just right.
+
“Well, c’mon Clarence, that tree ain’t gonna fix itself.” Meg gives in later in the night, but only after curling up by the warm fire and forcing Cas to make her hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.
((Fluff all 1000% Christmas fluff. I hope you like it!)
FILL: Team Castiel/Dean/Samandriel, Christmas celebration
"Cas, look- this is all a bit much don't you think? It looks like holiday isle of Wal-Mart threw up in here." She takes a quick glance around the living room, there's strings of twinkling lights hanging everywhere, the tree is nearly falling over because Cas doesn't have any sense for ornament placement and he's overloaded one side with one too many plastic gingerbread men, and she knows which presents he tried to wrap, battled with may be a better phrase judging by the paper cuts he gave himself wrestling with the snowflake patterned sheets. Meg glances up from her seat and Cas is still leaning over her, mistletoe in hand and a hopeful glee in his eyes he's not even trying to contain. "Is that tinsel in your hair?"
“I’m waiting Meg, my dear.” And she just rolls her eyes before standing and plucking the metallic string out of his hair, ruffling his dark locks and sending another couple of pieces of glitter scattering over his shoulders.
“You’re nuts and that’s not even real mistletoe, angel-face.” Meg scoffs and turns to leave when she feels Castiel’s strong grip on her wrist and suddenly she’s in his arms. He’s guiding her hands to his shoulders and once he’s sure she’s not gonna yank ‘em away he settles his grip onto her waist, a shy smile fluttering across his mouth as he starts to set up a swaying rhythm.
“I really can’t stay…” He starts to sing and Meg lets out a sigh, ready to start objecting to this nonsense, but he continues, “Baby, its cold outside…”
“Cas, c’mon what’re you-“she can’t really finish the rest of her protest with Castiel’s lips pressed against hers.
“Beautiful, what’s your hurry?” Cas keeps whispering the lyrics against her cheek and lets the briefest twitch of a triumphant smirk forms on his face when he feels the brush of her eyelashes fluttering shut. They drift like that for a while, in the middle of every holiday cliché imaginable littering the room, Castiel humming ‘Baby, Its Cold Outside’ and Meg breathing in his peppermint smell, and it’s just right.
+
“Well, c’mon Clarence, that tree ain’t gonna fix itself.” Meg gives in later in the night, but only after curling up by the warm fire and forcing Cas to make her hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.
((Fluff all 1000% Christmas fluff. I hope you like it!)