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Cas was a grabby drunk – by the time December rolled around, Dean was fully aware of this. Usually he lapped up Cas’ wandering hands and clinginess, he would revel in how far Cas would be willing go in front of a populated area, how filthy his mouth would get. However, this time was different and Dean was anticipating all of those things with an anxious weight in his stomach, because it was a family occasion.
It hadn’t been hard to convince his parents that Cas and his dad should join them for Christmas: the more the merrier, that’s what Mary had said. The two were to come over in the afternoon, hopefully after Sam had calmed down marginally and Cas had shared a personal part of Christmas with just his dad. They showed up on time, of course, and the Winchester household was already a train wreck.
Sam answered the door wearing a Santa hat, wrapped up in a string of tree lights. “You’re here!” He squealed excitedly, throwing the door wide open before pulling them inside.
It was all going down in the kitchen; dinner was late and Mary didn’t have enough hands, and didn’t trust Dean to help out. But Cas and his dad were adamant to make themselves useful and dinner ended up on the dinner with minimal casualties. Dinner led to brandy and warm cider in the living room, with the addition of large quantities of homemade mulled wine that Cas had brought along. And very quickly everybody was a little too buzzed – with the exception of Sam, who at fourteen couldn’t quite get past John’s watchful eye – and listening to awful Christmas music.
The parents were at one end of the room by the window, drinking eggnog and huddling around the CD player as they relayed stories from past Christmases. Dean and Cas were together on one couch, which had started out fairly innocently and progressively gotten worse with the more Cas drank. His handsy nature was setting in and he inched closer and closer to Dean, until he abandoned his glass of wine altogether so that he could get both his hands on Dean.
“Dean -- Dean that shirt looks really hot,” Cas whispered, warm breath all over Dean’s neck as Cas’ lips lingered on the shell of his ear. Dean had reluctantly worn a dark blue button-up, but Cas had been eyeing it all evening with far too much interest. Dean already felt out of place and uncomfortable in it seeing as they were only staying in the house, but the way Cas was crowding into his space and pressing into his side made Dean feel a hundred times hotter, and he was glad that he’d already rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the collar.
“You’re hot.” Cas murmured again, and loud enough for Sam to glance over quickly and become red in the face. Cas was kissing at his jaw now, practically purring in the back of his throat.
“Cas.” Dean warned in a hushed voice, trying to pull away and create a little distance. It was lucky that his parents and Cas’ dad had consumed even more alcohol than they had, and were currently too busy with impromptu karaoke to take much notice of Dean and Cas. All the same, Dean’s skin crawled with the fear that one of them would turn around and see Cas trying to get his hand into his pants.
Thankfully he hadn’t made it that far yet; for all of Cas’ eagerness to touch Dean, he was undeniably uncoordinated. His hand was low on Dean’s stomach, and the other was pushed up the back of his shirt as his fingers pressed into Dean’s skin. He mumbled Dean’s name over and over again as he tried to crawl his way into Dean’s lap, one leg already throw over Dean’s in an attempt to straddle him.
“I just wanna touch you, I need -- I need to feel you.” He was really grappling at Dean now, pulling himself into his lap with his face buried in his neck. “You’re so -- I just -- I want you everywhere.”
“Cas you need to stop, come on, you’re being too loud and our parents are right there!” Dean glanced over to see the three of them dancing embarrassingly with new glasses of wine in hand. Sam, on the other hand, was curled up in an armchair with his new book, desperately trying to ignore Dean and Cas.
“I want you to fuck me with your hand over my mouth until I’m limp.” Cas looked up him from under his eyelashes, biting back a smirk as Dean’s mouth momentarily hung open. It was also the same moment he managed to work his hand beneath the waistband of Dean’s jeans, palming him over his underwear.
“Fuck, fuck Cas, get up.” Dean pushed Cas off and grabbed his wrist, dragging him out into the hallway for at least a fraction of privacy. Dean wasn’t exactly sober either, he was lightheaded his words were slurring, but Cas was beyond his control. He couldn’t even hope to keep him in check when Cas was hell-bent on giving him a boner, and he was just about drunk enough himself to let Cas take care of it too.
Dean was ready to heave Cas up the stairs and throw him into bed -- for both of their sakes -- but Cas was staring intently at a point just above Dean, his head tilting slightly with interest.
“What?” Dean asked persistently, because he recognised that look, he could almost hear the cogs turning in Cas’ brain as he worked out how to get what he wanted. Dean turned around and clocked the wreath hanging above his head, a ring of holly and pine and of course, sprigs of mistletoe. Dean knew he’d just lost this battle, and he turned back around carefully.
Cas grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt and pushed into Dean, wasting no time in opening his mouth against Dean’s, lips desperate and clumsy and very determined. Dean let out a shocked kind of yelp, which quickly dissipated into a keening moan as Cas licked into his mouth, tasting sweet like the wine and brandy on his breath.
Dean pulled away, his hands firm on Cas’ hips as he pushed Dean’s back against the wall. “You asshole – you fucking asshole.” He was breathless already and despite his best efforts, smiling as Cas moved in again and laughed against his lips.
“Come on, Dean, let me feel you.” He whined, looking up at Dean with heavy lidded eyes as he aligned their hips and left no space in between.
Dean was not in the business of denying Cas anything when he looked like that, drunk or sober. As if he would really pass up Castiel when his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were full of temptation, when he was rumpled and wanton. Sex was the only time Cas would let himself be so needy and ready to ask Dean for everything he wanted - willing to take it too.
That’s why Dean didn’t shove him off and march him upstairs into bed – no – he pulled him into the junk cupboard under the stairs instead. And Castiel loved it, he got even more fired up with the mops and brooms digging into his back, not to mention the car engine sitting on a shelf -- which definitely shouldn’t have been there -- that cut into Dean’s side and left him thinking about the bizarre bruises they’d have tomorrow morning. It was a push to get just the two of them in there and it left barely any space to move, the cupboard already becoming stuffy and overheated.
“I’ve wanted to rip this shirt off you all evening.” Cas breathed, and he went straight to unbuttoning Dean’s shirt as he lathered Dean’s neck in messy kisses and bites on the right side of painful. He stayed true to his word too, a couple of buttons popping off and flying to hit the wall in his haste. Dean’s blood was pumping in his ears by the time Cas raked his blunt nails down his chest, fingers tracing the jut of his hipbones before pushing into the ridges of them hard.
Cas shifted to undo the buttons of his jeans, and Dean was struck by the realisation that this Christmas would definitely be the best – or at least the filthiest – and stamped all over last year when he spent it with his grandparents. Having Cas get to his knees below him while he tugged his jeans and underwear down was definitely an improvement.
Dean watched intently as Cas took his cock in hand and lapped at the head, eyes locked on Dean’s as he dragged the flat of his tongue up the entire length. Dean braced himself with one arm on a shelf next to him, and breathed out shakily when Cas took him further into his mouth, sinking down until his nose was almost touching his pelvis.
Dean knew this wasn’t going to last very long – he was drunk and fairly close already, and Cas was being sloppy and humming in satisfaction around Dean’s cock as he bobbed his head. Dean fisted his free hand in Cas’ hair and let his fingers wrap around clumps of hair roughly, and Cas just groaned at the stinging of his scalp and swallowed Dean down until he felt his cock hit the back of Cas’ throat, Cas’ moan still vibrating around him.
Cas looked back up at him again, and Dean tried to hold in the broken whimper he made as he spilled into Cas’ mouth, come slipping down his throat and a little dribbling down his chin too. When Cas finally pulled off, Dean hauled him up by the shoulders and wiped his chin with his thumb, pushing it into Cas’ mouth.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean huffed, still a little breathless and boneless as he slumped forwards onto Cas. “And I’m holding you to what you said before – you won’t be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you.”
Cas smiled and gave Dean a comparatively chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “Good.” And then he took his hand and led them back into the living room, their parents not even noticing that they’d gone and come back.
Sam, however, was sinking into the armchair when they walked back in, both of them still flustered and Cas sporting a hard-on, with an equally inappropriate smirk on his face. Sam glanced at Dean and scowled, giving him what might have been the bitch-face of the entire year, and pretended to gag obnoxiously when he saw the mess of hickeys on his neck and the missing buttons from his shirt.