Chapter Text
Adam was jolted awake by some mild turbulence.
The pilot’s voice came over the tinny intercom, explaining they were hitting some cloud cover, but would be at their final destination shortly. Adam blinked several times and rubbed his hand over his eyes as the pilot explained they were just missing the snow forecasted to greet them. The tiny plane echoed with claps and cheers as they made their final descent to that news, taxiing in a small local airport at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
“Oh, thank God,” his seatmate whispered, a single mom with a peacefully sleeping child cradled in her arms.
While the route had been smooth sailing, his seatmate’s baby had not handled the flight well. She had intermittently cried during rough patches, and the other passengers made sure the mother knew how annoyed they were. At one point, Adam had stood up and placed himself between the mother and the other passengers. His stern, disapproving glare begrudgingly shut everyone up about it. But no good deed went unpunished; he could not sleep or move much in his seat, for fear of waking the baby or the sleeping mom.
Adam was exhausted, strung out from the crying child, shaking from hunger and overstimulation, and strangely enough, nerves. Once the other passengers left, he grabbed his single backpack and slipped it on to exit the plane. A blast of cold wind through the gangway made him shiver.
He saw the Mom and child enveloped by a large man in the terminal, and Adam’s heart squeezed hard. She looked over, pointed to him, and smiled. Her husband or a family member waved a thankful goodbye to him. Despite everything, seeing them happy together made him slightly less grinchy. Though it only exacerbated the deep-seated loneliness he carried with him. The rest of the year was tough for singles, but the holidays were the worst time for him.
He finally looked away from the family reunion and clung to his backpack strap like a lifeline. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. No signal. He’d need some to order an Uber. As he rounded the corner to leave the terminals, a massive grin spread over his face.
Standing there, wearing wraparound sunglasses and a neat full beard, was his best friend/adopted brother, Dean. He wore a nice brown canvas jacket, jeans, and boots. Passerby stared at him, and it wasn’t hard to see why. While Dean was beautiful as a young guy, he’d really filled out handsomely, even being almost forty.
Adam didn’t get as many looks, which, thank God for small favors. Because Dean held a handmade paper sign in his hands for “Mr Milligan-Winchester,” and a proud smile. The edges of Adam’s vision blurred–he’ll blame exhaustion. “Dean! Hey, man.”
“Hey, Adam,” Dean said, and they hugged for a good several seconds before Dean patted his shoulder and they pulled apart. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
“You too.” Adam motioned toward the crumpled paper between them. “Really?” He wiped at his eyes when Dean shrugged, unable to hide the warble in his voice.
“Is it wrong? Besides, I’ve always wanted to do that.” Whether it was the tacking on of Dean’s last name to Adam’s, or picking up someone from the airport with a sign like a Hollywood movie, Adam wasn’t sure. Could be both, or either. His big brother was an enigma at the best of times.
Adam glanced around at the bustling crowd around them. “Where’s Castiel?”
“Home. He’s not great with crowds, and we weren’t sure Dozer could manage the airport. That pup is smart as heck, but he’d mow down a kid if he smelled a soft pretzel.”
Adam chuckled as he followed Dean through the throngs of holiday travellers. The airport, though small, was decorated with hanging evergreen wreaths, red, shiny ornaments, and strings of golden lights. “Yeah, let’s not test that.”
Dean held out his hand and motioned for Adam to hand over his pack. Adam did, hiding a smirk when Dean almost dropped it. “Jesus, what’s in here, lead?”
“Some gold bars, too.”
“Alright, Simon Says, no more Fort Knox for you.” Dean joked.
Adam took the pack back. “I didn’t know what I’d need,” he said defensively.
“Not that much,” Dean muttered, with a shake of his head. “We’re remote, but we aren’t that remote. Cas ain’t Amish.”
“I did meet him,” Adam said as they walked outside– the winter night bit cruelly through his coat and hoodie like he was naked. “Shit, it’s cold.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, pulling off the sunglasses and eyeing the darkened sky above them as they walked out to the parking garage. “Can you believe they’re calling for more snow in the Hollar?”
“I dunno why you sound so shocked,” Adam said as they passed by random cars. “Mountains and snow are sorta synonymous.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Not here, man. Heaven’s Hollar doesn’t get snow. That’s why the blizzard last year was such a big deal.”
Adam hummed, barely listening. He was cold, exhausted from the plane ride, and starving. And yet Dean had to park at the literal ass end of the parking lot so no one would ding the paint on his precious 1967 Chevy Impala. The sleek black boat was a sight for sore eyes, though. Adam was surprised by how much he missed seeing it outside his apartment building. How much he missed dropping into Dean’s place whenever he wanted to, getting a dirty sock to the face when he interrupted Dean in the writing zone. Now he had to take a six-hour flight to see him.
“Did you eat anything on the death trap?” Dean asked as Adam plopped his bag into the open trunk.
“Besides the bag of crackers that was offered? No.” His stomach grumbled loudly.
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Cas has burgers waiting for us.”
Adam perked up. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
They climbed into the car, and Dean cranked the heat immediately. Soon, the feeling returned to Adam’s hands as he held them in front of the vents. Dean flipped through his shoebox of classic rock tapes and slid one in. Freddie Mercury filled the cab, but Dean left it as quiet background noise. He drove away from the tiny airport, and even though it was dark, the mountains were close enough to be a dark edge before them.
Once Adam could feel his fingers and the tip of his nose again, he took in the sights of the rural countryside. He was quiet, enjoying seeing Dean again, smelling the familiar cologne, hearing the familiar roar of the engine, and tapping the steering wheel.
“Have you talked to Sam?” Adam asked.
“Yeah, and ain’t that a kick in the pants!” Dean said with a broad smile. “I’m still getting used to just calling him whenever I want, now.”
“It’s nice not always to be the go-between,” Adam admitted. Though it had been that way for the last fifteen years, Adam, sharing news of Sam with Dean after their falling-out, was happy they had fixed their issues and could talk to each other normally again.
“He and Eileen have been good. Settling down nicely, from what I’ve heard.”
“Their wedding was cute,” Adam said, a little wistfully.
“Dozer was the ring bearer,” Dean remembered with a huff of laughter.
“It was certainly interesting,” Adam agreed.
Sam and Eileen had gotten married in California six months prior in a sleepy beachside town Dean had recommended for its privacy. They stayed a week, as did Dean, Cas, and the dog Dozer. Adam also took off work to make it. Eileen didn’t have any family at the wedding, but she said everyone made her feel so loved and included; she never felt alone for long.
It was Castiel’s first time visiting a beach, and Dozer’s. The dog must have run around at least a dozen times, rolling around and sniffing the sand, the dunes, before returning to his master. It was hard to imagine Dean letting a dog into his precious Chevy, but a sandy one? Adam would have thought the man was possessed by a demon when he just laid a towel down for Dozer in the back seat.
Castiel was quiet, and not just because he was mute. He could write like the wind, and he and Dean could converse through notes and expressions as fast as anyone else. The love that Dean and Cas looked at each other with was the biggest change for Adam. He had been a little worried that Dean had latched onto someone a little fast because he was getting older. But no. Dean and Cas looked at each other exactly like Sam and Eileen.
It made Adam sigh a little forlornly. He never had any luck in the dating department, though he had no idea why. He was fairly handsome and worked as a physical therapist. But his dates always ended in disaster, so he gave up a while ago. He resolved to live vicariously through his brothers.
“There’s town,” Dean said, pointing to a collection of twinkling lights cutting through the darkness in the valley between the mountain ridges. “Heaven’s Hollar.”
“Home sweet home?” Adam asked, finding himself no longer standing on the beach in his memory but driving up the zig-zagging mountain roads in the winter cold. Even with the boat-like Impala, Dean streets the roads with easy familiarity.
“No, we live on that ridge, above town,” he pointed to a shadow to the east. “But we need supplies. Looks like another snowstorm is gonna hit. Cas is better prepared than last year, but he wanted me to grab some things in town while the going was good.”
“Sure,” Adam said, stretching his arms and cracking his back. “Need a hand?”
“Sure, up to you. It won’t be much.”
“I wanna stretch my legs,” Adam yawned. “That plane was tiny.”
“I could’ve driven to get you,” Dean offered.
“Forty hours round trip?” His back twinged at the idea of sitting in the Impala’s bench seats that long. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
They pulled up to a little log cabin-looking place on the edge of town with the sign for a general store. Dean hopped out of the car, but left it running, with the heat blasting.
Jesus, how much of a time warp is this place? I knew Dean liked westerns, but this is pretty frontierland, even for him. Adam followed him inside, the air a familiar scent of beans, rice, and heavy spices. A handful of patrons sat at a long table, and there were tiny tables scattered around the left-hand side. The right was fully stocked with non-perishable groceries, and the coolers in the back held drinks and alcohol. It was a one-stop shop for the local denizens, and the burly, bearded man behind the counter looked completely happy in his element. His apron was stained dark, but the smell was divine. He walked up to the small register as Dean stood in front of it. “Dean! Who’s da stranger?” He asked in a completely out-of-nowhere Cajun accent.
“Benny, this is my brother, Adam,” Dean said.
Benny nodded once to Adam. “Visiting?”
“Yeah, staying with us for Christmas,” Dean said conversationally. “That’s why we’re here. Cas said, " You have some supplies for us?”
Benny glanced back at the door hopefully. “Little Bird with you?”
“Not this time. He wanted to get things battened down. I’m still trying to get him down into town more often, but he still thinks he’ll turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
“I have seen him more since you came round,” Benny agreed reluctantly. “Before you, he was more of a town legend.”
“The Cryptid Castiel,” Dean joked, and even Benny lightened up enough to grin.
“Well, then. Let me get you loaded so you can get going. Tell Castiel hi for me, eh? Stay safe up there?” When Dean nodded, Benny went in the back and a few moments later came out with two wooden crates stacked on top of one another. His forearms bulged, and he huffed in relief when he slid them across the counter. “And make sure he uses his whistle, yeah?”
“Yes, Benny, I know,” Dean grumbled. He slid one box out for Adam, and inside he saw various cans and packages. Dean grabbed the other. “Merry Christmas, Benny.”
“Merry Christmas, Dean. And Adam,” Adam glanced up to see Benny wink at him. “Feel free to drop by if the lovebirds are too much.” Adam thought he saw a hint of hesitation from the big man, a reluctance to admit that aloud.
Dean was already out the door, pushing it open with his hip and hissing to hurry up. Adam followed Dean and put the groceries in the trunk next to his bag. As they closed the trunk, little cold specks began to fall from the sky.
Dean motioned for Adam quickly. “I’m not going through that again. Hurry up!”
As the old girl roared to life, Adam asked curiously, “Who was that?”
“Oh, Benny? Cas’s best friend.”
Oh, now that tone made sense. “Oh, I bet he’s your biggest fan, huh?”
Dean puffed out his cheek. “It's not like that.” He ran a hand through his long bangs, and Adam had a feeling it was exactly like that. Poor Benny. He seemed kind enough and was pretty handsome—a real Cajun teddy bear. Adam wondered if Benny had any friends or family in town to see for the holidays. Maybe if Cas went to see him, I could tag along? He shook his head. Clearly, it was jet lag or something making him find a hillbilly attractive even if he had a nice smile.
They drove up the mountain pass; the higher they went, the faster the flakes stuck to the windshield. Dean swore under his breath and white-knuckled the steering wheel up a series of gnarly switchbacks until a little shed appeared on the right side. He pulled into the driveway, and Adam saw Dean’s handiwork. The farmstand was rustic and charming, with a large hand-painted sign. Adam recognised Dean’s blocky lettering.
As they headed down to the driveway, Dean’s new home crept into view, appearing finally as the snow really started to fall. The cabin was made of log planks and not terribly big, but there was a garden, a chicken coop, and a large freestanding garage that Dean pulled into. The flickering light and the smell of woodsmoke were homey.
“Come on, Adam, let’s get a move on.” Dean opened the trunk, grabbed the box, and Adam pulled on his backpack, then grabbed his own. They hauled ass to beat the accumulating snow, and Adam saw a dark figure inside, staring at them. He heard a loud barking from inside.
The front door opened wide, and Adam saw a familiar fuzzy face. Castiel, Dean’s new partner, grabbed the boxes from both of them with ease and took them into the kitchen, which left Adam to deal with an overly enthusiastic greeting from Dozer, Cas’s silvery pitbull. He wore a blue tie clipped to his collar and had jumped up to small Adam properly.
“Hey, guys,” Adam said, and petted Dozer for a moment until Dean slipped off his dirty boots. He grabbed Adam’s backpack and set it by the couch.
Suddenly, Dozer gave way to Castiel, the man in ripped jeans and a too-small t-shirt, and a matching mountain man beard. He made Dean’s eyes widen in appreciation. He held out his arms, and Adam received a massive hug. He melted at the warm welcome. “Nice to see you again, Cas. Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“Hello…Adam….” Cas’s voice was low from disuse, raspy and grating, but Adam smiled softly as Cas tried. He opened his mouth to say something else, but only a croaking sound came out. He shook his head, embarrassed, and instead signed something to Dean with fast fingers. His fingers moved swiftly enough that Adam’s tired mind couldn’t catch them. “Oh! The signing stuck?”
Dean smiled and kissed Cas’s cheek. “Eileen taught us some basics, but he still writes a lot. Surprised he doesn’t have carpal tunnel yet. I guess it’s a toss-up between who’ll get it first.” He signed something to Cas with halting, unsure hand movements.
Adam’s attention was pulled away from them to scope out their home.
The home where, exactly a year ago, Dean was a wayward author who crashed into Cas’s little farmstand and was stranded for the next week. And in that week, the two of them had fallen in love. As ridiculously rom-com-sounding as it was, Adam could see it. Cas was quiet and reserved but had a kind heart. Dean was an energetic, thoughtful himbo (respectfully). He studied the cabin and saw Dean’s clothes on the coatrack, his vinyl record player on a wooden side table, and little knick-knacks strewn about the place. And over the fireplace was the bookshelf, where Cas had every book Dean’s alter ego had ever written. How insane was it that Dean crashed into a fan’s place, of all places?
I wish I had that kind of luck.
“Adam, you hungry? Dinner’s ready. And don’t listen to the pup, no table scraps!” Dean made a shooing motion, and Dozer settled under Cas’s seat. The kitchen table was cramped for three, and Adam kept bumping elbows with Dean. Cas made a sign and raised his eyebrows. “Next place,” Dean said, out of nowhere, sounding like a promise. “Bigger table, bigger living room. Bigger everything.”
Cas nodded in agreement.
Adam looked at Dean, surprised. “You’re moving? But I thought you liked it here?”
Dean’s cheek puffed out like a chipmunk’s as he spoke. “Love it here,” he said. “But it was cramped for one and a dog. I’ve been a complication,” Dean said knowingly. He pointed at the ladder that went up to the loft. Adam saw the tiny shudder of fear pass over Dean's face before he schooled it. “Also, not a fan of almost breaking my neck to piss in the middle of the night.” Adam knew better, knew Dean was terrified of heights, but nodded understandingly. “So, uh, we’re moving! About a hundred feet that way,” he motioned outside into the darkened woods. “We’re making a new cabin.”
Adam looked at Dean. “Do you have any cabin-building skills I’m not aware of?”
Dean fidgeted. “I can learn,” he said defensively. He patted Cas’s hand. “Cas is the man with the plan, though. Depending on how the storm treats us tonight, maybe we can show you the vision tomorrow.”
Cas narrowed his eyes cautiously before nodding once.
Adam had never seen Dean so excited about something so mundane, and wasn’t that the sweetest thing? He ate a big bite of his hamburger with onions and gravy. “Sure.” He ribbed Dean. “Hey, if you’re taking requests, can you build a skating rink?”
Dean arched an eyebrow but then shrugged. “Sure. I’ll put it next to the bowling alley.” Everyone got a good laugh out of it.
“Hey, you wanna come tree hunting?” Dean asked. “We need a tree and some decor for the place, but wanted to ask you first.”
“Sure. Although seeing you go all out for Christmas is kinda crazy.” When Castiel raised a curious eyebrow, Adam just said, “Dean never really went all out when we were kids.”
Cas nodded and picked up the pen for the first time, scribbling quickly in his notebook before showing Adam the page. My uncle died many years ago. I never celebrated since. Last year, Dean helped me get my head out of my ass about it.
Adam smiled, despite himself. “I’m glad. Is that who that is?” He pointed to a wooden bust standing in pride of place over the mantle, along with a wooden Impala carving. Cas nodded.
Conversion ebbed and flowed, the sounds of scritching pen, and Dozer’s gently thumping tail under the table acting like a clock. Adam thought it was interesting that, despite having broken his mute streak, Cas didn't speak at all the whole evening. He wrote, signed, and charaded his way through the conversations. I guess someone doesn't get over three decades of silence overnight. Or a year. Not that Dean minded–he translated pretty well.
Eventually, Adam's eyes could barely keep open any longer. “Come on, time for bed,” Dean said. He helped Adam to the couch, covered him in handmade blankets, and patted his shoulder. Adam was asleep before he even hit the pillow.
Dozer looked at the empty spot by Adam’s feet, his usual place whenever someone lay down for a nap. But instead of jumping up, Dozer whined slightly and padded to another bed by the fire. His eyes never left Adam’s sleeping form, or the empty space beside it.