"Christmas magic is silent. You don't hear it - you feel it, you know it, you believe it." — Kevin Alan Milne, The Paper Bag Christmas

Dean limped into the ER, his younger - but much taller - brother helping to support his weight.

If they'd expected the hospital to be quiet because it was Christmas and everyone should be at home with their families, they'd have been sorely mistaken. A drunk woman was screeching a horribly out-of-tune rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, a homeless man was fighting three security guards, a mother with bags under her eyes larger than the ones Dean had stuffed with presents at home desperately rocked a wailing baby, while a father holding a blood-soaked rag to his head yelled at his three kids - who were using the seats as a climbing frame - to sit down.

"On second thoughts, I feel fine," Dean said, casting his gaze around the room. He'd been booked in quieter police stations after getting arrested when he was younger - shoplifting, solicitation... There were some things Dean wished he could undo, or at the very least forget. But, at the end of the day, it had all been worth it when Sam graduated from law school.

Sam, not being privy to all the intimate details of Dean's chequered past, chuckled as he guided him over to a seat beside a quiet man who was patiently cradling his hand, as far away from everyone else as they could get.

"Wait here. I'll get you registered."

And then Sam was gone, leaving Dean beside a cute guy who was very definitely Dean's type, and absolutely the kind of guy he used to get arrested for soliciting.

He sat there in silence, casting furtive glances at the guy beside him every now and then. He was slim, but seemed fit. And sweet Jesus, those arms! They could pin him to the bed anytime... hold his arms behind his back... hell, he'd even let him bend him in half with his legs beside his head!

"She's been crying for two days..."

Dean couldn't help but overhear the woman with the baby as they were called through for examination. The other kids were still screaming and shouting, and the drunk woman was still crying. He rubbed a temple and wondered if it was irritation or the start of a headache he could feel throbbing there.

The guy beside him shifted, and as Dean's gaze continued to wander up his body he immediately wanted to buy him a razor for Christmas, because hiding a jawline that strong underneath several days of stubble should be a crime. Dean's inner thighs prickled at the thought of that stubble irritating his skin.

Jeez, what was wrong with him? He sees several cute guys a day, but this one turns him into a horny teenager again?! Though, thankfully, without the spontaneous boners. Now that would be embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as if the guy was to catch him staring at him...

And he had long dark eyelashes to match the dark stubble - eyelashes that suddenly flicked up, as if aware of Dean's thought process, to reveal bright blue eyes that turned to look at him.

A tingling sensation swirled in Dean's belly as their eyes met. "So what are you in for?" he quipped, immediately wishing his sore ankle was terminal because you only got one shot at a first impression and his had been terrible.

But the guy was completely unfazed and unwrapped the cloth around his hand, revealing a very gruesome cut.

"Ugh!" Dean exclaimed, and visibly recoiled.

"I was cooking, and the knife slipped. It's not as bad as it looks," the man said calmly, wincing as he wriggled his fingers as if to prove it.

"Dude, stop!"

With a smile, the man wrapped his hand up again. "What about you?"

Dean pointed at his foot. "Fell off the ladder putting the star on the tree."

The other man looked confused. "It's Christmas Eve," he stated, as if Dean might not know. "Didn't you leave it rather late to put up your tree?"

"It's tradition that me and my brother put it up together. He couldn't get home until today."

"Ah."

Dean looked at his watch, shocked to realise just how long he'd been staring at the other man before they'd started talking. It had only felt like a couple of minutes! He looked around the room for his brother. "Where the hell'd he get to, anyway? He was only going to register me at reception..." Dean caught sight of him at the desk, grinning like a kid in a candy shop as he chatted to a pretty blonde nurse. "Figures," he tutted. "I hope your family saves you some dinner, though. It'd suck if they ate everything before you got home." Dean glanced around the waiting area. "Didn't somebody come in with you?"

"It's just me, I'm afraid," the other man said forlornly. "My family doesn't celebrate Christmas, so it gets rather lonely."

"Cas-cheel Novak?"

The man beside Dean sighed. "It's Castiel," he muttered under his breath as he got to his feet. "It's been nice talking to you."

Dean's stomach started to sink, though he wasn't sure what was wrong.

"Hey!" Dean called after him as he walked away, aware that he hadn't really thought through what he was about to say, or even whether it was a good idea to actually ask it - just that it felt right to ask. "Do you... I mean, if you wanted... You could spend Christmas with us? Me and Sam?" No-one should spend Christmas alone, right?

Castiel's face seemed to soften. "I don't even know your name," he pointed out, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

"It's Dean."

"Dean," Castiel repeated, and Dean found he liked the way it sounded in the other man's mouth. "You should ask your brother. If he doesn't mind, then I think I'd like that very much."

"Is there a Cas-cheel Novak here?"

"Yes. Sorry, I'm coming."

As Castiel walked away with the nurse, Sam walked past him on his way back to Dean.

"He's cute," Sam observed, without any attempt at subtlety.

"I could've been dying over here, and you were hitting on a pretty nurse!" Dean chided him playfully.

Sam scoffed. "You're hardly dying. Besides, I saw the two of you talking and thought I'd give you a chance to get his number. Jess thought I looked a little lost, so came to ask if I was okay."

"Jess, huh?"

"So, did you get his number?"

"No."

Sam looked disappointed. "I know you bring people home on a regular basis, but you don't date much."

"I didn't get his number," Dean began, "but—"

"You asked him out! Did you ask him out?"

"What are you, like, five? Calm down. No. I invited him over to spend Christmas with us."

Sam was so shocked he was silent for a long moment. "You... What?" he asked eventually.

"He doesn't have anyone."

"So... is he coming?"

"Only if you're okay with it."

"Well, I mean... I'm not not okay with it, but... Are you sure you want to invite a complete stranger over to your house like that?"

"What are you talking about, I do it all the time. You just said as much."

"I know, but... Christmas dinner isn't exactly a one-night stand. And what if he's dangerous?"

Dean didn't believe Castiel to be dangerous - just cute, and lonely, and perhaps a little odd. He shrugged. "It just felt like the right thing to do, you know?"

"No, I don't," Sam said honestly. "But I don't mind setting the table for three, if that's what you want."

"Maybe you could ask Jess and set the table for four?" Dean asked, a wicked glint in his eye.

"No."

"What, you didn't get her number?"

"I did, actually. She's working over Christmas, but we're going out for New Year."

Then it was Dean's turn to be speechless. "You... She... What?"

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean waved at the nurse.

"Saved by the bell," Sam grinned.

"Not even close," Dean told him. "I want to know everything about this girl."

"Dude, shut up," Sam said as he helped Dean to his feet.

"I mean it!"

"I know you do!" Sam laughed. "But I'm not telling."

. * * * .

When Dean limped back out to the waiting area, foot newly bandaged, he found Castiel awkwardly waiting for them.

The tingling sensation was back again, Dean noticed. "How's the hand?" he asked.

"Oh, fine. Just a few stitches. And they gave me some rather nice painkillers," he added with a smile. "How's the foot?"

"Just a sprain. Got a bandage. No painkillers, though."

"More's the pity," Sam lamented.

"Dude, don't you dare," Dean warned him, already blushing.

"Dean broke his leg once," Sam told Castiel gleefully.

"I'm warning you—"

"He was so high on morphine he hit on every doctor and nurse that came in. Even the guys," he added, looking meaningfully at Castiel.

Sam must compensate for his high intelligence by sacrificing any ability to be subtle, Dean thought to himself. "That's it - I'm sending all your Christmas gifts back. If I can't find the receipts, I'm donating them to Goodwill."

Castiel was grinning widely at the brothers' interaction, though it didn't seem like it was at Dean's expense.

"So I hear you're joining us for Christmas dinner," Sam said.

Castiel glanced at Dean, who gave him a small nod. "Yes," he told Sam. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Because this finally gives me the chance to tell someone Dean's most embarrassing stories!"

"Where's Jess?" Dean asked, looking around. "I'm sure she'd get a kick out of the time you got dressed up as Batman and you jumped off the shed because you thought you could fly."

"Hey, I was five, and you jumped first!"

"Hey, I was nine, and I was dressed up like Superman, okay? Everybody knows that Batman can't fly."

"Well, I didn't know that. I broke my arm."

"I know you did. Man, I drove you to the E.R. on my handlebars."

"Who'd have thought, twenty-five years later I'd be the one driving you to the E.R.?"

Castiel was looking awkward again as the brothers reminisced.

"Why don't you give Dean your number," Sam told him, pulling him back into the conversation. "That way he can text you his address, and let you know what time to come over?"

"Or I could just tell him?" Dean interjected.

But Castiel nodded. "Okay."

Once they'd exchanged numbers and the brothers were sitting in the car, Sam turned to Dean and said, "See how easy that was? You can thank me later."

"For what?"

"Castiel's number," he grinned, putting the car in gear. "Merry Christmas."