Request -- Can you please write one where it's nighttime and Dean and the reader are together, just sitting in front of the lit up Christmas tree and cuddling? And Dean shares the only time him and Sam celebrated Christmas on SPN? Fluffy! Thank you!!!
(I hope that you like it!)
You leaned back into Dean’s warmth, your lips spreading into a small smile as his arms, which were wrapped around you in a secure hold, tightened around you comfortingly. A fleece blanket covered your legs, you sitting criss-crossed in between his, assisting him in warding away the creeping cold. The both of you sat in a tranquil atmosphere, one that was much needed after a tumultuous week of hunting, admiring the Christmas tree that you had managed to erect in the corner of the huge bunker library with shining eyes. It was the calm after the storm, and you were thankful that you had this to come back to with the man that you loved.
A quiet rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” seeped into the silent night air as Dean hummed it into your ear. You turned your head so that you could face him, and he took the opportunity to catch your lips with his own. A soft giggle fell from your mouth as his stubble lightly scratched against your face, and you pulled back a little bit.
"You’re getting scraggly," you teased him, reaching up so that you could bring your fingers over the shadow that was cast over the bottom portion of his face. As you did, his green eyes twinkled in the soft yellow ethereal glow that the lights on the tree were casting off.
"Well, I sure as Hell deserve it after the week we’ve had," He pressed a kiss to your hand before smirking, his eyebrows raised skeptically. "Besides, I thought you liked the stubble."
"Never said that I didn’t," you chirped, and a chuckle went through him as you turned back to the tree, resting in the familiar shape of him once more. You felt his shoulders move up and down as he sighed in gratification prior to putting his chin on your shoulder, and the sound made something dawn on you. "…Dean?" After earning a quiet "Mm?" in response, you looked at the beautiful tree while asking your question. "How long has it been?"
Dean’s confusion was obvious. “How long has been since what, beautiful?”
"Since you’ve had…this,” You gestured to the breathtaking sight in front of you, the twinkling symbol of Christmas cheer. “A decorated tree, and some actual joy during the holidays.”
"Hm…that was about, six—no, seven years ago,” he told you, and his laughter filled the library, the happy sound echoing throughout the room. “It was a damn good surprise, too. A sneaky one, but one of the best ones I’ve ever had.”
His voice was wistful, the bliss in it something that you didn’t hear very often, and you broke out of his hold so that you could turn yourself around and face him. You definitely wanted to hear this story, but not with your back to him.
"Elaborate, please," The words left your mouth excitedly, and Dean grinned at your genuine enthusiasm. He straightened up, his eyes twinkling at the memories that he was about to indulge you in.
"Alright, so Sammy and I, we’ve just killed off these two nutty Pagan gods. After dropping Sam at the motel, I go to the gas mart because I feel really crappy and like my brother should get something for Christmas, using getting beer as an excuse to, especially since it—” His voice got a bit quieter, and his eyes dropped to the ground. “—it would be our last one together. Y’know, going to Hell and all.”
The air became somber, and you were desperate to see the happiness on his face again, and piped up, “So, what did you get him?”
"Nope!" he exclaimed, the sparkle returning to his emerald eyes, and you let out a silent breath of relief. "You’ve got to wait for it!"
Rolling your eyes playfully, you threw up your hands. “Well, go on, then!”
"Okay, so when I get back to the motel, I hear this Christmas music coming from somewhere," Dean launched right back into his story, and you were thankful that he didn’t linger on what had dampened his spirits. "And of course, I think it’s just our annoying neighbors in the next and that I’ll have to bang on their door in the middle of the night telling them to turn it off. But no, when I walk into our room, Sam catches me by surprise, just asking me if I got the beer as I’m just standing there stunned and looking at this small tree that he decorated with, listen to this—lights and air fresheners.”
"Air fresheners?" you repeated, laughing when he nodded. "Well, I’m sure you two weren’t rolling in money back then."
"We were definitely far as Hell from that. So I’m just standing around like a dumbass, asking what all of it was. And then Sammy just goes, "What do you think it is? It’s Christmas.". He then gives me this terrible—and I mean terrible—eggnog that he put way too much whiskey in. Like, it was freaking toxic or something. I’m sure that inside, he knew it too. The son of a bitch. Then, we sit down and I pull out my gifts for him in this stupid brown paper bag…and then he reveals that he got stuff for me too, wrapped in that day’s newspaper!”
The both of you had to recover from laughing like fools, and you urged him on. “And now, what did you get each other?”
"He opens his presents first, and they’re shaving cream and skin mags—"
"Of course," you said out loud, expressing your lack of surprise, interrupting him as he chuckled.
"—and then I open mine, a candy bar and fuel for Baby." Dean’s tone changed into something nostalgic and completely blissful—you could’ve sworn that his whole face was brighter than the whole Christmas tree. "And then for the first time in both of our lives, we just have this moment. It was like, I don’t know…like we knew that everything was somehow going to turn out fine—and of course, that’s something were never sure about, but it was nice to have that instant. We have a toast, and then I cringe while choking down that horrible eggnog."
You grinned. “And then?”
Dean sighed in happiness. “We watched football for about three-quarters of the night before passing right out. And let me tell you: the whiskey hit us hard the next morning. We could barely get out of bed after ten. Sammy’s the one who finally toughened up and got us some strong black coffee. Then, we were on the road, and it was just a regular day again.”
His last words lingered between the two of you as you sat in the newfound silence. This Christmas story was one of the only stories you had heard about the brothers’ pasts, and you couldn’t keep grinning despite the nagging thought in the back of your mind, which you spoke about at least ten seconds later.
"So, all in all…it was a great Christmas?"
"Yes," The word was absolute and unwavering. Dean then chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "A lot better than when I had to steal presents for Sam and use a dirty sock as a makeshift stocking."
"Creative," you noted, and he put on a proud expression as he brought his hands up and shrugged with a devil-may-care grin spread across his face. It faltered a little bit as he spoke quietly to you, taking your hand in his.
"I never got to live out my childhood at Christmas," he said, toying with your fingers. "After my mom died, it was my job to be a soldier, not a kid stuck in a fantasy. My old man told everything to me straight—that there was no Santa, no Tooth Fairy, no nothing. That there were just things waiting to kill you in the dark, and that I had to protect Sammy from them, not be ignorant of them like all children are.”
You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. “What about—what about Sam? Did he get to believe in all those things?”
Dean sighed. “I tried my best not to ruin it for him. My dad tried the absolute hardest, believe it or not, but it’s not easy when Christmas comes around and you have a little kid asking how Santa will find you if you don’t even have a tree.”
"Dean—" you started, but he stopped you before you could get any further.
"But," he continued. "That time is long gone now. I have him, and I have you, too. That’s enough to make me the most hopeful guy in the world right now.”
A giant grin slowly started to adorn your face, and you scooted over so that you could sit next to him, laying your head on his shoulder. The both of you observed the glistening and sparkling tree in front of you, reminiscing about the past and thinking about what was to come. “…I hope that this year, Christmas can be just as special for you as it was seven years ago. You and Sam deserve it.”
"We all do," Dean replied, bringing his lips to the top of your head. "We’re all together, what’s in the past is in the past, and nobody’s going anywhere anytime soon—" He paused, and when you looked up in bewilderment, he stole a kiss off of your mouth. The two of you grinned, and you sank into his arms once more. "It’s going to be an amazing Christmas.”