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Dean had one wish for Christmas: to not celebrate. It was just another stupid holiday to him. One with too much annoying music, and colorful decorations that made him inwardly growl and groan with aggravation. The presents were bullshit thanks to them being obligatory, and seeing and knowing that families were gathering just left him bitter. So no, he sure as hell wasn’t going to celebrate. What he really wished to do was to go on a hunt, and then head to a motel room or the bunker and drink some beer, feeling accomplished. Though, he figured he’d still be angry. Dean was always angry, it seemed. He hated it.
On Black Friday, Sam put up a few decorations. That was what started the war between them. Dean would take them down. Sam would put them back up. Over and over again.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” Sam asked, tone loud and sharp.
“Really, Sam?” Dean questioned. “You want to celebrate Christmas?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Whatever.”
Dean went to grab a beer.
On the first of December, Cas came to the bunker. Dean was happy beyond belief to see his boyfriend. They kissed, they made love, they watched movies together.
Then, one night, it was Cas’ turn to pick the movie.
What did his boyfriend pick? Klaus. A Christmas movie on Netflix; a Santa origin story.
Dean grudgingly put up with it, and maybe part of him liked it. He ignored that. He had to.
Two days after that, he found mistletoe hanging above his doorway. Dean got out a ladder and tore it down.
It went back up that night.
So Dean gave in just a little bit, and let Castiel thoroughly kiss him.
What was maybe a week later, the bunker was ringing with Christmas music. Hey, at least it was rock versions rather than all the Christian and jingly shit. Dean even found himself singing along.
On Christmas Eve (which he realized he’d accidentally been keeping track of), Castiel grabbed Dean and dragged him to the kitchen to make cookies. He actually wanted Dean to make his own recipe.
To Dean’s utmost surprise, he found himself willingly doing research on it; looking up blogs and measurements and information and what flavors went with each other.
So that night after dinner he made his creation, Cas and Sam helping him under his instruction. About two hours later the cookies were done: sugar cookies with candy cane frosting (Dean didn’t even know where the candy canes had come from) topped with a homemade gingerbread spice mix.
Hell, they were insanely delicious. Dean had three, and he brought another back to his room. He kissed Cas under the mistletoe. He smiled at the tree Sam had put up. He went to listen to some rock renditions of Christmas music. He fell asleep listening to it.
He awoke late on Christmas morning, Sam knocking at his door.
“Hey, get dressed. Cas and I have a surprise for you.”
God, it better not be some damn presents.
Still, Dean groaned, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and sat up. It took a bit to get himself to crawl out of bed, but when he did, he dressed, rinsed his mouth out with a glass of water, ran a hand through his hair, and then he left. He passed through the kitchen, grabbing a cookie on the way. His family wasn’t there, so he headed for the war room. Nope. He saw them in the library.
There were presents under the tree. Presents. All wrapped nicely, some even with bows.
Dean groaned around the bite of the cookie in his mouth.
Castiel went to grab him and drag him over.
Dean, mouth still full, complained in a mumble, “Guys, I so don’t want to do this.”
Sam picked up a box, and then tossed it at Dean. He had no choice but to catch it with his free hand. It was a decent size, rectangular. It was about thick enough to be a book. Hmm…
“Too bad,” Sam said.
After finishing his cookie, and wiping his free hand on his jeans, he ripped open the wrapping paper decorated with penguins in Santa hats.
When he saw what it was, he started smiling. How the hell was he smiling on Christmas? Damn! He wanted to go out and kill something, yet here he was… happy, of all things. His present was a Kurt Vonnegut book: Slaughterhouse-Five.
“Wow, I haven’t read this since high school,” Dean said.
“I know you like Vonnegut,” Sam explained.
“Sammy, thank you.”
He went over and gave his brother a quick half hug, patting him on the back.
Then, more presents came. Dean was given nerdy t-shirts and socks, another Kurt Vonnegut book, and Tombstone on DVD. He was overwhelmed with everything. Sam had presents from Cas, Cas had presents from Sam, and Dean just stood there, empty-handed, nothing to give to them.
He bowed his head, clenching his jaw.
“Guys, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I just… didn’t think we were doing anything this year. We never do, you know? And I didn’t want to. I really didn’t.”
“Are you sure about that?” Castiel asked, going to wrap an arm around Dean’s waist, kissing him on the top of the head, and then his cheek. He then brought his mouth to Dean’s ear lobe.
Sam grimaced, and Dean laughed.
“Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers at them like they were disobedient dogs, “I’m literally right here.”
Dean didn’t bother apologizing for that. Cas whispered in his ear what he was going to do to Dean later, and it took everything in him to not get half-hard. Thinking about how his family was probably disappointed in him helped with that a great deal.
“I just… I wished to not do anything. Wanted to keep it quiet, wanted to go on a hunt. Ignore it. That was my wish. Or, I thought it was. I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten you two some presents.”
Sam smiled, a bit teary-eyed of all things. (What?) “Seeing you smile is the only present I need.”
Dean’s heart seemed to soar at that, all light and airy.
“Our wish was to see you happy, Dean,” Castiel said. “And we succeeded.”