Chapter Text
“Mind telling me why you wanted fried chicken so badly that you had us drive out into a snowstorm to get it? You’re lucky the shops were even open,” Dean grumbles as he walks out of the garage, trailing behind Sam with his arms full of groceries. He doesn’t stop griping as they walk into the library. “And what’s with all the other shit you needed anyway? Are you having weird pregnancy cravings or something? Anything you want to tell me, Samantha?”
He’s halfway across the library when he freezes, missing the bitchface Sam directs at him at the comment, because he’s too busy staring at the Christmas tree that suddenly seemed to have sprouted by the corner shelves.
“What the- is that a Christmas tree? How did that even-?”
“Surprise?” Sam says innocently. Dean pins him with a look as he dumps the groceries onto the nearest table. He turns to Sam, arms crossed. “Wanna tell me what’s going on, Sammy?”
“What’s going on,” Charlie says, walking into the room with mugs in hand, “is that it’s Christmas Eve and the bunker sorely needs more Christmas spirit.”
“Eggnog?” she offers, handing them both a cup. Dean takes it from her without comment, staring at the two of them for a few seconds.
“Well, at least this explains the fried chicken,” He says glibly, taking a sip of his drink. He turns to Sam, a hint of a pout tugging at his lips. “Does this mean I’m not going to be an uncle?”
“Jerk,” Sam huffs, swatting at Dean’s arm.
“Hey! Watch the eggnog. Bitch,” He retorts, angling his cup away from Sam. “So Charlie, not to sound like I don’t want you here but when- how did you get here? Last I heard from you, you were in Tulsa.”
“I flew in, duh. Figured I’d hang out in the Batcave with everyone for Christmas, and hey, it had to be someone’s priority to give the resident fallen angel a good first Christmas experience.”
Dean groans. “Just… try not to make it a remake of his first Halloween.”
“Don’t worry,” Charlie says, patting him on the shoulder, “this is strictly in-house.”
“So, does Cas even know about whatever you’re planning?”
“You make it sound like I’m planning to stage a coup. And of course he does, who do you think helped set this place up?” Charlie asks, waving her hand to indicate the room.
“Speaking of, where is he anyway?” Sam asks.
Charlie shrugs. “No clue. I think he headed back to his room after he hung up the tinsel everywhere.”
“Well, since it looks like you guys have got everything set up without me I’m gonna go shed a few layers. I’m starting to sweat like a pig under all this.” Dean says, heading for his room only to be halted by Sam shoving a bag into his hands.
“Wear that.”
“What?” He says, peering into the bag. “No. Come on, really?”
“Yes,” Sam insists, bringing out the puppy dog eyes. “Please, Dean? It’s Christmas.”
“Ugh, fine,” Dean says, gripping onto the bag tighter. He heads down the hallway, calling out behind him as he goes. “You really need to stop with the puppy eyes, Sammy! You’re not five anymore!”
“Still works though!” Sam shouts back, laughing as Dean marches away faster. He turns to Charlie, inclining his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s go put all this away.”
--
By the time Dean gets back to the library, there’s no one to be found. He drops his presents under the tree adding to the decent-sized pile already there and wonders where Sam and Charlie could’ve wandered off to.
Dean’s about to call out to them when he hears the soft strains of Christmas music coming down the hall that leads to the kitchen. He follows it to the kitchen and finds Sam, Cas, Charlie, and Kevin seated around the dining table, decked out in their own Christmas sweaters, chatting and laughing as they dig into the fried chicken and mashed potatoes they’d braved the storm to get.
They even managed to get Kevin into one, which, to be honest, Dean is a little impressed by. That is, the act of getting him into one, not the sweater itself seeing as he never pegged the guy to be the festive type. The sweater even fits the typical Christmas fare - colored a weird purple-red shade with reindeers prancing across it with snowflakes falling on his shoulders. Sam’s sitting next to him in a ridiculous red sweater with skiing penguins on it that he’d probably have forced on Sam as a kid just to irritate him. Cas is sitting across from them wearing a dark blue sweater with snowflakes in white and gray along the middle; it’s the most normal looking one of all of them even with Charlie’s sitting next to him sporting a navy blue Star Wars sweater.
“Nice sweater,” He tells Charlie as he takes a seat in the empty chair on Cas’ right. She preens at the compliment.
“I was starting to think you were gonna hide in your room all night,” Sam says, smirking.
“Shut up,” Dean huffs, plating up some fried chicken and mashed potatoes for himself. “Your fashion sense sucks by the way.”
“Just making sure I’m doing my little brother duties right,” Sam responds cheerily.
Dean rolls his eyes and ignores him, turning to eye Cas up again.
“You look good,” Dean says quietly, nodding at the sweater. He can’t help but notice how the blue of the sweater brings out Cas’ eyes.
“Thank you. You look rather… festive as well,” Cas says, staring down at the motley quilt-work style of Dean’s sweater.
“Blame Sam,” Dean says, side-eyeing Sam who grins at him when he notices the look.
He decides to temporarily forgive Sam when he brings out the pie after dinner.