[fic] Sometimes, The First Thing You Want Never Comes for thinlizzy2
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Sometimes, the First Thing You Want Never Comes
Author: lefty_spit
Recipient: thinlizzy2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,149
Warnings: Naughty language, unrepentant fluff. Seriously, this is this schmoopiest of schmoop.
Spoilers: Vague references for everything up to early season 7.
Summary: Once upon a time, Sam made a wish for Dean. He's almost kind of regretting it, now.
Author notes: Title is from the song "Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung. Thanks to my beta, skiing_pelican. I haven't written much before, but I hope you like it anyway. Merry Christmas, thinlizzy2! For the prompt: When he was 10, Sam made a Christmas wish for Dean. Twenty five years later, it comes true.
Another crappy motel room. Another cold, lonely winter. Another Christmas with Barbie’s and Samantha jokes. Sam understood, really. Dean was trying his best and it wasn’t his fault Dad never remembered his boys during the season of giving. At least Dean was always there on Christmas morning. And honestly, it was completely unfair that Dean tried so hard to give Sam Christmas, when all he’d ever really gotten in return was that silly amulet from Sam. He probably didn’t even like it. Sam wanted someone to give Dean Christmas, just like Dean had always done for him. Which is how Sam found himself making an absolute fool of himself on this crisp, clear Christmas Eve.
He feigned sleep - like a champ, if he did say so himself - until Dean thought it was reasonably okay to sneak out and fetch Sam some Christmas. As soon as he was out the door, Sam scrambled out of bed. He stood between the beds and wondered, for one long moment, just how this whole “Christmas Wish” business went down. It was easy, according to every Christmas movie ever. Not knowing any other lore dedicated to holiday cheer, Sam decided the best course of action would be to wing it. And fast, or Dean would come back and ruin Sam’s plan.
Sam crossed his arms, defense against the entire universe judging him, and closed his eyes.
“So,” Sam started slowly, “I don’t really know who gets these Christmas wishes, because Dean already ruined Santa for me. Thanks a lot, Dean. But anyway, Dean is a jerkface so maybe for Christmas could you give him coal, or something? Better yet, give him a rash! Nothing permanent, just something annoying. And red. Oh, oh, and itchy! Ha! …Ugh, fine. I don’t mean it. I guess… I guess my real wish is for Dean to have an actual Christmas. One where he doesn’t have to steal presents and lie about Dad. Let Dean have Christmas with a family. An actual, real Christmas, like normal people have. Um, that’s it, I guess. So thanks, whoever you are.
Oh! And, you can still throw in the rash, if you want. Dean put itching powder in my shampoo last week and I still haven’t gotten him back for it yet. Okay, yeah, that’s all. Thanks.”
Satisfied with his work, Sam crawled back into bed and waited for Dean’s return.
~~~
Sam woke to the sound of glass shattering, but the first thing he processed was Dean hollering at the top of his lungs. Sam groaned and knocked his head back into his pillow a few times. Would it kill Dean to just be quiet sometimes? The yelling continued, even as Sam prepared himself for the bitter cold of the floor against his bare feet. Scrambling immediately for his clothes, he took stock of the situation apparently happening downstairs. Dean was clearly the wronged party here, but Bobby and Cas were definitely adding their two cents. It was obvious, at least to Sam, that someone needed to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. Sometimes, it felt like he was the only one in this place with his head on straight.
He strolled leisurely through his morning routine, and slunk down the stairs. His housemates had cooled off some, but knowing Dean and Cas, this was far from over.
“Morning,” Sam chirped, in the most annoying way possible, when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Dean was struggling to upright the stupidly tall tree (Sam had said time and again that they didn’t need a tree tall enough to brush the high ceilings in Bobby’s house, but no one had listened) and Cas was sulking in the corner. The floor was covered in a thin film of glittering confetti - shattered ornaments. Cas stared at Sam dolefully, and winced every time Dean bit out a harsh sound. Sam took pity on both of them, because they were complete idiots, and skirted around the gleaming spill on the floor.
“Fucking help me,” Dean snapped when he noticed Sam’s approach. Sam waved his hand at him.
“I am helping you. Jesus, Dean, calm down.”
“This stupid tree is fucking ridiculous. Why the fuck did we pick it?” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s vehemence, before grabbing a hold of the trunk and starting to push it vertical again. His eyes met Dean’s for a brief moment, the shared look quickly turning into two sets of eyes on the moping angel. Castiel shifted uncomfortably, but met both their eyes defiantly.
“I only suggested this tree as a possible candidate. Dean is the one who insisted we cut it down and bring it here.”
Sam bit his lip to keep from smiling, because he remembered clearly how badly Cas had wanted this tree and how his big, innocent blue eyes had pleaded with Dean. He also knew how little power of resistance Dean had when it came to those eyes.
Dean made a rough, impolite sound as the tree settled and turned to Cas. “Yeah, whatever, Cas. We need to clean this up before Bobby has another shit fit and we need to run into town and get some more ornaments.”
With this declaration, Dean and Castiel sprang into action, grabbing brooms and a dustpan and getting to work. Sam sauntered off to get some coffee, and watched them from the doorway. When they’d swept up the very last splinter of colored glass, Dean sighed his surrender, grabbed his angel deceptively harshly, and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. The tension bled out of Cas’ shoulders and Dean’s jaw relaxed. Well, one Christmas Eve crisis averted, Sam thought, eyeing the clock and judging how many more could possibly happen before nightfall. He watched with unconcealed sappy pleasure as Dean dragged Cas, by their entwined fingers, out to fetch new ornaments.
~~~
This was their first Christmas at Bobby’s new place. For some God awful reason, Bobby had picked Minnesota - fucking ice-hockey-great-lakes-practically-Canadian Minnesota - as his new home base, and the Winchesters were forced to follow. The new permanent location had come as a bit of a surprise. No one had really expected a stable home after the last one burned down. No one had expected to settle in so well.
Castiel had been with them for five years now. After the whole Leviathan debacle had been cleared up in the spring of 2012, Cas had disappeared for a while. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, since Cas would only talk to Dean about it, and neither of them seemed keen on bringing Sam into the loop. But whatever Cas had faced for that year and a half, he’d come back as the Cas they all knew and loved, if a bit more contrite. There had been plenty of struggle at first, trying to forgive and forget and trust. They’d settled out before too long (hunting didn’t leave much room for interpersonal relationship strife) and suddenly it was Team Free Will all over again.
The hunting had slowed down a little more each year after Castiel’s return. There were still monsters, and the three of them still piled into the Impala and went charging after them, but the monsters were less frequent and less overwhelming. It was nostalgic, in a way, and Sam was entirely too grateful for the change.
And then, two years ago, Dean and Cas had finally tripped over the truly impressive amounts of emotional baggage they each carried and had fallen right into each other’s arms. Sam had been a little smug, because he’d totally figured it was just a matter of time anyway, and a lot happy for his big brother. Now, at least, rooms didn’t fill up with all the unresolved sexual tension Dean and Castiel had toted around with them for years.
Besides, ear plugs weren’t that difficult to get used to.
~~~
With the demolition team out of the house, Bobby reemerged to coerce Sam into being the sous chef. Now, Sam wasn’t afraid to try new things and he liked getting hands on, but he’d never done well with food preparation. It always seemed to him like he should be good at using a knife, but three bleeding fingers later, even Bobby had conceded defeat. Wearing an expression of one part, “how the hell have you survived this long?” and two parts, “you’re such an idjit, boy,” Bobby sent Sam into the living room with orders to decorate with “that green leafy crap the neighbors brought over.” Sam was more than happy to hang what turned out to be sprigs of holly in various locations around the house and let Bobby handle all the kitchen aspects of Christmas.
Sam was wandering around with his last two holly sprays when Dean and Cas returned. Dean looked just this side of murderous, but Castiel was smiling a little absently to himself and carrying a couple stacked boxes of simple glass ornaments, so Sam figured all must be well. While Cas set to work meticulously hanging each ornament, Dean strolled over to Sam.
“Hanging twigs, Sam? What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean reached out and snagged one of the sprigs, inspecting it closely.
“Hey,” Sam griped, “I’m just trying to help. And it’s holly, Dean. Not twigs. It’s a Christmas plant. You know, like, deck the halls with boughs of it?” Dean snorted lightly, plucking at the leaves with his fingers carelessly.
“Sure, sure, Sam. I hear ya,” Dean placated. Sam snatched the holly leaves away from him, pulling them close to his abdomen and cradling them defensively.
“Why don’t you go help your angel hang up ornaments or something. Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean responded gamely, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, even as he turned toward Castiel.
~~~
Sam could see them through the doorway of the kitchen, where he was cleaning up after a brief lunch. Something was afoot. Dean and Castiel had their heads bent together, speaking in low, harsh tones. Dean’s hands moved emphatically every now and then and Cas’ face was pulled tight. They were plotting.
“What do you mean,” Cas hissed, “you forgot?”
“I mean,” Dean grit out, “it didn’t cross my mind before just now.”
“You are a complete moron, Dean Winchester.” Dean looked suddenly affronted, but Castiel plowed on unhindered. “I am not even human and I understand the rituals of this holiday.”
“Look,” Dean snapped, “I fucking forgot, okay? I’ll fix it. Sam won’t care anyway.”
It was the name dropping that finally forced Sam to bust into their team huddle.
“What are you two fighting about now?” Sam asked, with no small amount of petulance. Both the face of his brother and the angel went slack. Dean quickly schooled his features into obviously feigned innocence and gave Sam a crooked grin.
“Oh, you know. Who takes it up the ass on Christmas Eve. No big.” Sam’s face crumpled in horror, like Dean had just informed him that ice cream and puppies and schools the world over had just been eradicated.
“I don’t ever want to hear those words in the same sentence ever again. I don’t care what you’re arguing about. Be an old married couple. I don’t care.” With one last sad shake of his head, Sam turned and resolutely marched away.
His kitchen hideout, occupied by one grumpy old codger, was short lived. Dean poked his head in after a few minutes and announced that he and Cas had forgotten something and needed to head back into town. Bobby waved him off dismissively and Sam pouted at him in that “you have peed on everything I love” kind of way. Dean winked, disappeared, and tromped loudly out of the house.
With Dean and Castiel gone, again, and Bobby suspiciously bent on making himself absent, Sam was left in control of the kitchen. Sam’s job was easy, according to Bobby. All he had to do was watch the timer and pull dinner out at the appropriate time. Sam was earnest and attentive when given his instructions, but a few minutes trapped in the too warm kitchen by himself drove him to distraction. His favorite pastimes for the moment were getting lost in the newspaper crossword puzzle and staring out the window at the gray clouds promising to spew snow. He was just trying to figure out a seven letter word for the clue “xylophone’s kin” when his eyes caught the first snowflakes drifting past the window. Sam smiled to himself, enjoying the realization of snow on Christmas Eve, and turned back to his crossword.
When next Sam looked out the window, it was only to see a wall of white. In shocked surprise, Sam dropped his pen and trotted over to the door. He shoved on a pair of boots and stepped out into a blizzard. The snow tumbled down into his untied boots and nipped sharply at his ankles, and Sam frowned at the winter wonderland. Dean and Cas were out there right now, and Dean was a good driver, but snow was a bitch. He hurried back into the house and began tracking down Bobby.
“Bobby? Hey, Bobby! It’s snowing. D’you think Dean’ll be okay out there?” He got silence in response. Sam growled in irritation and jogged up the stairs. Again, he called for Bobby and was met with silence. He flopped down on the top step in a mixture of irritation and worry. Sam sat there, stewing in impotent concern, for some time. He flipped his phone open and closed rhythmically, debating whether or not to start calling everyone he knew in a panic. He’d just settled on Dean’s name when a sharp, high alarm burst through the house.
“Oh, shit,” Sam hissed to himself, climbing to his feet and rushing down to the kitchen. The smoke alarm continued to blare at him as he pushed smoke aside with his large hands on his way to the oven. He fumbled to collect himself before pulling out the remains of dinner and staring at the charred beast woefully. “Good job, Sam,” he mumbled to himself. He threw open a couple windows to release the smoke and flopped down at the kitchen table. He let his head fall forward until his forehead thunked against the wood.
His self flagellation was interrupted when a snow covered Bobby appeared. The older man huffed an irritated sound and grumbled, “I see dinner is cooked.” Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t look up. Bobby shifted once, then turned to inspect the oven. After a few minutes of tinkering and quiet “hmm”ing, Bobby straightened and calmly said, “Well, it was an old piece of shit, anyway. It’s probably a good thing it set itself aflame.” With that, he turned and walked back out the way he came. Sam turned his head to narrow suspicious eyes at Bobby’s retreating back, but couldn’t be bothered to get up and follow him. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Sam pushed himself up and settled in for some clean up.
~~~
Dean broke the hush in the house with a frustrated, put upon moan.
“I cannot fucking believe this. Minnesota will be fine, he said. It’s a nice place. Sure it is, Bobby,” he mocked loudly. Sam set down the brush with which he was scrubbing smoke residue from the previously off-white kitchen appliances, and strode over to the front hallway. Dean and Castiel were both covered in snow, and while Cas seemed perfectly content, Dean was red nosed and scratching determinedly at one wrist. They were, Sam noted with mounting suspicion, completely devoid of any newly acquired items. What the hell had they needed to go out for?
“If I ever have to drive through a snow storm again, I will personally hunt down Mother Nature and rip out her lungs.”
“Dean,” Cas admonished, leveling an unimpressed gaze at the side of Dean’s head. Dean snorted.
“Well, it’s true, Cas. Those roads were bullshit. And all because we didn’t remember to get Sam his fucking do-” Castiel slapped a palm over Dean’s mouth, effectively shutting him up mid-sentence, and tipped his head in Sam’s direction. Dean’s eyes went comically wide for a moment before he pulled away and looked at his brother. His eyes narrowed after a moment and he sniffed the air contemplatively.
“You smell that?” he directed at Cas.
“Yes. It smells like smoke,” Castiel said calmly. Dean’s head whipped around to stare at Sam again.
“Uh,” Sam chuckled nervously, “welcome back.” Dean groaned, trudging past Sam with a pointed “learn how to cook, you bastard” stare and another aggravated scratch at his arm. Castiel gave Sam an awkward, crooked smile before following in Dean’s footsteps.
“Fuck it,” Sam muttered, going after them to face his brother’s wrath honorably. He found Dean in the kitchen, poking at what had once been a turkey and now more closely resembled volcanic rock. Cas stood nearby, completely uncaring about the loss of dinner.
“You suck,” Dean said as soon as he noticed Sam.
“Yeah, well, I was worried about your dumb ass out in the snow. The turkey was already dead, so it didn’t rank high on my Things To Care About list.”
“Dude. I had the fucking angel with me. If it went to shit, you know he would have been all ‘Sorry, Dean, but it’s time for angel air to save your sorry ass.’ He was gonna do it anyway, but I refused to leave my baby in a snowy parking lot by herself.” Cas snorted behind Dean and shared a long suffering look with Sam.
“Your refusal to leave your car behind cost you an extra hour of time, Dean,” Cas informed him waspishly. “If you had allowed me to bring you back, you would have been here in time to stop Sam from burning your dinner.” Sam watched Dean’s jaw twitch as he tightened it, scratching irritably at his palm. Sam bit back a smile at Cas’ smug expression.
“Yeah, well… There’s no fucking way my baby was going to be stuck in a parking lot all night, okay? Just drop it. Fuck. And why the hell am I so itchy, goddamnit!” Dean snapped, voice rising with each word. Sam stepped forward and grabbed at his arm, pushing up his long sleeves to see his skin.
Which, as it turned out, was red and lumpy. Sam bit back a snort of laughter and said in his best imitation of a doctor, “It looks like a rash of some sort, Dean.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Did you touch anything that’d irritate the skin?”
“How the hell should I know? I was at the store. I could have touched anything!”
“You touched the holly Sam was decorating with earlier today, Dean,” Cas supplied oh-so-helpfully.
“Son of a bitch.”
~~~
After much whining, Castiel had flitted off to scrounge up some antihistamine lotion for Dean. Bobby had reemerged (and really, Sam had passed suspicious and moved right on to total paranoia) and was taking stock of dinner options, while Sam sat back and surreptitiously watched the lovebirds.
Dean was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, while Cas squatted beside him. He was painstakingly applying lotion to Dean’s skin, checking both arms with undivided attention. Dean was staring down at him with a mixture of unrestrained affection and something else entirely too indicative of things Sam did not need to think about his brother and his brother’s angel getting up to. Castiel’s fingers slowly traveled down the length of Dean’s arm and settled warmly in the middle of his palm. The slow brush of his fingertips on Dean’s palm gentled a warm, shy smile out of Dean, and long lashes sunk over his green eyes. Cas leaned down and pressed a kiss to the heel of Dean’s hand, dragging his lips slowly up the length of each finger to press softly on each tip. Dean released a heavy, content sigh and Cas straightened up some to leave kisses along Dean’s jaw.
Sam cleared his throat loudly and focused firmly on Bobby. Some things were just not okay to witness.
Bobby, either immune to all the sexual tension radiating from the area of his kitchen table or completely focused on his task of finding food, turned around and announced, “We ain’t got much here by way of food. Chinese or pizza?”
After much throat clearing and embarrassed shuffling from Dean - to which Castiel just smirked like the cat who ate the canary - they finally voted on Chinese. Bobby handed a menu over to the boys, and immediately set to work spiking some eggnog. Sam was midway through writing down their list of food items, when every light in the house went dark. The undercurrent of electricity in the house was silenced, and for a few stretching seconds, all they could hear was the soft sigh of the world breathing.
Then Dean snapped a flame out of his lighter and the hushed spell was broken.
“Damn it,” Bobby muttered, shuffling through the dark around them. He produced a candle, which he set before Dean.
“I guess that means Chinese is off, then?” Dean sighed with a touch of disappointment, lighting the candle automatically. Bobby grunted, snatching up the candle and disappearing through the house. The other three remained in the dark, before Dean choked out a sudden laugh.
“What?” Sam asked flatly.
“Anyone know any good ghost stories?” Dean replied, holding the lighter near his face. Castiel snorted, but his quiet exhalation of, “Dean,” was filled with fondness. Sam laughed easily, even though it felt like their first real Christmas in forever was quickly tumbling down the drain. The flicker of light through the house returned slowly, followed closely by Bobby and an armload of stuff.
The stuff turned out to be an assortment of unscented candles and a couple of carefully balanced oil lamps. They lit everything, letting the warm flicker of fire brighten the room. After a few moments of silence, Bobby turned to the freezer with a candle in hand and poked his head inside.
“Well boys, we’ve got a couple bags of pepperoni pizza rolls, a Hungry Man dinner, and ice cream. I can’t be assed to dig out the generator in this snow, so we’re working with a finicky stovetop and a woodstove for cookin’. What say you to pizza rolls, ice cream, and eggnog?”
Sam and Dean stared at each other over the table for a moment, before Dean turned to Bobby and said, “Sounds good to us.”
~~~
Everyone settled in the living room with full bellies and full glasses. Even Cas had opted to bring a glass of eggnog with him, which had Dean leering merrily at him. Although the candles had lit the kitchen well, the much larger living room remained dark along the furthest edges. Dean was sprawled loosely beside Cas, his side pressed up against the straight backed angel. Sam sat on the other end of the couch, trying very hard to become one with the arm. Bobby had taken over the lone chair. They sat mostly in quiet, besides the occasional organization of fetching refills.
While everyone else seemed content with this arrangement, Sam was getting bored. He fidgeted restlessly, offering far too often to refill everyone’s drinks. Dean was definitely starting to feel the rum and Bobby, too, looked more relaxed than usual. He was just about to offer to get another round when Dean released an explosive sigh.
“Jesus, Sammy. You’re gonna drive me crazy if you don’t stop.” Sam blinked at him through the soft light.
“What?”
“I get it. You’re bored.”
“It’s too early to hit the hay yet,” Bobby chimed in. Dean laughed, an absolutely filthy laugh, and looked at Cas.
“It’s never too early to get in bed,” he murmured lowly. Castiel quirked a smile at Dean and dragged his tongue across his bottom lip suggestively.
“Oh, no! Not here, not now,” Sam said sharply. “I’m not going to allow this to happen while I’m sitting right beside you.” Bobby nodded once, emphatically, before pushing himself to his feet.
“May as well do any gift givin’ now. S’not like were waiting for the man in the red suit.”
“I hope not,” Sam muttered, mostly to himself. “Last time I met him, I lost a finger nail.”
“Amen to that. I nearly lost a tooth,” Dean said, raising his glass in a toast before downing the last of it. He stood up, giving Bobby a look before heading off. Sam supposed he was going to get gifts (and Sam sincerely hoped that Dean wanted to keep the old tradition of gas station gifts alive, even though he’d gotten Dean an actual present, too, this year), so he stood up and trotted off to get his own.
When he came back, he placed his few wrapped packages near the tree. Castiel and Dean were standing together, too casual. Bobby was still nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” Sam said in mild confusion, “Where’s Bobby?”
“Oh, you know,” Dean said, shrugging. A smile danced around the corners of his lips and Sam frowned at him.
“Bobby is retrieving your present, Sam,” Cas clarified gravely. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. What could they have possibly gotten him that Bobby had to go outside to get? His answer came galloping up to him a moment later with a jingle and the clack clack of long nails on wood floors. A brown and white spotted dog, tail wagging hyperactively, stopped at first Dean, then Cas, and finally bounced over to Sam. She was smallish - probably a pitbull mix - and seemed young. Sam grinned excitedly, dropping to his knees to receive kisses and to ruffle the thin white coat. She jumped around in front of him delightedly, and Sam grinned wider.
“Her name is Trace,” Dean said, a smile in his voice as he watched his brother play with the dog. “She’s pretty young. Needed a home, ya know? I figured we know a thing or two about picking up strays.” He bumped Cas’ shoulder lightly as he said it, but Sam was far too focused on the puppy bounding around him to take notice.
“Dean, I… She’s great. Awesome, really. But how-? We can’t bring her with us.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sammy. We’ll figure it out. Besides, she’s a snuggler and we all know how much girls like yourself like to snuggle, Samantha.” Sam frowned exaggeratedly at Dean, laughter in his eyes.
“You’d best like that damn dog,” Bobby interrupted gruffly from the doorway, “after I spent all damn day keeping her entertained.”
“Yeah,” Dean added suddenly, “And I wouldn’t have had to go out in a snow storm to get her all the crap she needs.”
Sam just grinned warmly, settling more comfortably on the floor so he could play with his new puppy and watch the other gifts be exchanged.
Dean presented Bobby with a box of Johnny Walker Blue Label, from all three of them. Bobby smiled, perhaps one of the friendliest, happiest smiles he had in his repertoire, and wandered off to crack it open. This left Dean and Castiel in this first round of gift exchange, so Sam gathered up his puppy and tried as hard as he could to be invisible. He knew they wouldn’t want an audience, but he really wanted to know what Dean had been so obviously nervous about giving Cas for the past few weeks.
Castiel was apparently unconcerned with Sam’s presence, because he reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow strip of gleaming metal. He offered it to Dean wordlessly, who took it gingerly and stepped over to a candle to more closely examine it. Sam could see that it was some sort of silver necklace, but there were small stones inset in a few of the links that he couldn’t identify.
“Cas?” Dean said softly, gesturing to the stones. Sam listened intently, probably just as interested in finding out about the necklace as Dean was. The angel stepped forward slowly.
“Emerald and hematite,” he supplied easily. At Dean’s obvious lack of understanding, he continued, “These stones bring luck in love.”
Dean’s face went carefully blank as he looked down at the necklace again. Sam held his breath, silently threatening Dean if he dared to break Castiel’s heart. Rough fingers slid over the necklace carefully, before Dean turned to Cas with a quiet, “Thank you.” Cas nodded once, a vulnerable tenderness sliding over his features. Dean shifted, working open the clasp on the necklace and attempting to hook it around his neck. After a few failed attempts, Cas batted his hands away and snapped the clasps together easily. Dean rolled his eyes, but grabbed at the angel’s chin and pulled him into a warm, chaste kiss.
Pulling away, Dean fished something out of his pocket and held it up in a closed fist.
“This is completely stupid,” he muttered, embarrassed. “It’s like every cliché Christmas movie ever.” He carefully cleared his throat and opened his hand. Sam sat up as straight as he could, peering at the object in Dean’s hand. It was a silver ring, thick, with two raised ridges near the outer edges. The thing practically screamed, “Hello, I’m an engagement ring!” but Sam carefully bit back any sound. Cas stared at it with wide, uncertain eyes, before looking up at Dean. The vulnerable expression of before returned full force, until Dean huffed and snatched up his wrist. With sharp movements, Dean slipped the ring over Castiel’s left ring finger.
Cas stared down at his finger, head tilted and eyes narrowed. Sam almost wanted to laugh - the poor angel had no idea what Dean was saying with this ring - but they were having a moment and Sam refused to ruin it.
“It’s beautiful, Dean,” Cas murmured softly, eyes flicking up to Dean’s. They stared at each other for a long moment, everyone holding their breaths, before Castiel stepped forward into Dean’s personal space. Dean brought his arms up and dragged his angel forward, both of them trying to kiss the other breathless. Sam looked away with a smile borne partly from embarrassment and partly from joy. His eyes caught on Bobby, standing in the doorway with a couple fingers of whiskey and a proud look on his face. Their eyes met briefly, and Bobby raised his glass before turning and shuffling quietly away.
Sam scooped Trace up and cradled the puppy close to him as he quietly snuck away from the living room. All in all, he had to say, his little family’s first real Christmas together had been a success. A success by Winchester standards, at least.
“Thanks,” he whispered to no one, “for giving Dean his real, normal Christmas. Even if it was 25 years late."
"Oh, and the rash was a nice touch. Bravo for that, man.”
Title: Sometimes, the First Thing You Want Never Comes
Author: lefty_spit
Recipient: thinlizzy2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,149
Warnings: Naughty language, unrepentant fluff. Seriously, this is this schmoopiest of schmoop.
Spoilers: Vague references for everything up to early season 7.
Summary: Once upon a time, Sam made a wish for Dean. He's almost kind of regretting it, now.
Author notes: Title is from the song "Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung. Thanks to my beta, skiing_pelican. I haven't written much before, but I hope you like it anyway. Merry Christmas, thinlizzy2! For the prompt: When he was 10, Sam made a Christmas wish for Dean. Twenty five years later, it comes true.
Another crappy motel room. Another cold, lonely winter. Another Christmas with Barbie’s and Samantha jokes. Sam understood, really. Dean was trying his best and it wasn’t his fault Dad never remembered his boys during the season of giving. At least Dean was always there on Christmas morning. And honestly, it was completely unfair that Dean tried so hard to give Sam Christmas, when all he’d ever really gotten in return was that silly amulet from Sam. He probably didn’t even like it. Sam wanted someone to give Dean Christmas, just like Dean had always done for him. Which is how Sam found himself making an absolute fool of himself on this crisp, clear Christmas Eve.
He feigned sleep - like a champ, if he did say so himself - until Dean thought it was reasonably okay to sneak out and fetch Sam some Christmas. As soon as he was out the door, Sam scrambled out of bed. He stood between the beds and wondered, for one long moment, just how this whole “Christmas Wish” business went down. It was easy, according to every Christmas movie ever. Not knowing any other lore dedicated to holiday cheer, Sam decided the best course of action would be to wing it. And fast, or Dean would come back and ruin Sam’s plan.
Sam crossed his arms, defense against the entire universe judging him, and closed his eyes.
“So,” Sam started slowly, “I don’t really know who gets these Christmas wishes, because Dean already ruined Santa for me. Thanks a lot, Dean. But anyway, Dean is a jerkface so maybe for Christmas could you give him coal, or something? Better yet, give him a rash! Nothing permanent, just something annoying. And red. Oh, oh, and itchy! Ha! …Ugh, fine. I don’t mean it. I guess… I guess my real wish is for Dean to have an actual Christmas. One where he doesn’t have to steal presents and lie about Dad. Let Dean have Christmas with a family. An actual, real Christmas, like normal people have. Um, that’s it, I guess. So thanks, whoever you are.
Oh! And, you can still throw in the rash, if you want. Dean put itching powder in my shampoo last week and I still haven’t gotten him back for it yet. Okay, yeah, that’s all. Thanks.”
Satisfied with his work, Sam crawled back into bed and waited for Dean’s return.
~~~
Sam woke to the sound of glass shattering, but the first thing he processed was Dean hollering at the top of his lungs. Sam groaned and knocked his head back into his pillow a few times. Would it kill Dean to just be quiet sometimes? The yelling continued, even as Sam prepared himself for the bitter cold of the floor against his bare feet. Scrambling immediately for his clothes, he took stock of the situation apparently happening downstairs. Dean was clearly the wronged party here, but Bobby and Cas were definitely adding their two cents. It was obvious, at least to Sam, that someone needed to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. Sometimes, it felt like he was the only one in this place with his head on straight.
He strolled leisurely through his morning routine, and slunk down the stairs. His housemates had cooled off some, but knowing Dean and Cas, this was far from over.
“Morning,” Sam chirped, in the most annoying way possible, when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Dean was struggling to upright the stupidly tall tree (Sam had said time and again that they didn’t need a tree tall enough to brush the high ceilings in Bobby’s house, but no one had listened) and Cas was sulking in the corner. The floor was covered in a thin film of glittering confetti - shattered ornaments. Cas stared at Sam dolefully, and winced every time Dean bit out a harsh sound. Sam took pity on both of them, because they were complete idiots, and skirted around the gleaming spill on the floor.
“Fucking help me,” Dean snapped when he noticed Sam’s approach. Sam waved his hand at him.
“I am helping you. Jesus, Dean, calm down.”
“This stupid tree is fucking ridiculous. Why the fuck did we pick it?” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s vehemence, before grabbing a hold of the trunk and starting to push it vertical again. His eyes met Dean’s for a brief moment, the shared look quickly turning into two sets of eyes on the moping angel. Castiel shifted uncomfortably, but met both their eyes defiantly.
“I only suggested this tree as a possible candidate. Dean is the one who insisted we cut it down and bring it here.”
Sam bit his lip to keep from smiling, because he remembered clearly how badly Cas had wanted this tree and how his big, innocent blue eyes had pleaded with Dean. He also knew how little power of resistance Dean had when it came to those eyes.
Dean made a rough, impolite sound as the tree settled and turned to Cas. “Yeah, whatever, Cas. We need to clean this up before Bobby has another shit fit and we need to run into town and get some more ornaments.”
With this declaration, Dean and Castiel sprang into action, grabbing brooms and a dustpan and getting to work. Sam sauntered off to get some coffee, and watched them from the doorway. When they’d swept up the very last splinter of colored glass, Dean sighed his surrender, grabbed his angel deceptively harshly, and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. The tension bled out of Cas’ shoulders and Dean’s jaw relaxed. Well, one Christmas Eve crisis averted, Sam thought, eyeing the clock and judging how many more could possibly happen before nightfall. He watched with unconcealed sappy pleasure as Dean dragged Cas, by their entwined fingers, out to fetch new ornaments.
~~~
This was their first Christmas at Bobby’s new place. For some God awful reason, Bobby had picked Minnesota - fucking ice-hockey-great-lakes-practically-Canadian Minnesota - as his new home base, and the Winchesters were forced to follow. The new permanent location had come as a bit of a surprise. No one had really expected a stable home after the last one burned down. No one had expected to settle in so well.
Castiel had been with them for five years now. After the whole Leviathan debacle had been cleared up in the spring of 2012, Cas had disappeared for a while. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, since Cas would only talk to Dean about it, and neither of them seemed keen on bringing Sam into the loop. But whatever Cas had faced for that year and a half, he’d come back as the Cas they all knew and loved, if a bit more contrite. There had been plenty of struggle at first, trying to forgive and forget and trust. They’d settled out before too long (hunting didn’t leave much room for interpersonal relationship strife) and suddenly it was Team Free Will all over again.
The hunting had slowed down a little more each year after Castiel’s return. There were still monsters, and the three of them still piled into the Impala and went charging after them, but the monsters were less frequent and less overwhelming. It was nostalgic, in a way, and Sam was entirely too grateful for the change.
And then, two years ago, Dean and Cas had finally tripped over the truly impressive amounts of emotional baggage they each carried and had fallen right into each other’s arms. Sam had been a little smug, because he’d totally figured it was just a matter of time anyway, and a lot happy for his big brother. Now, at least, rooms didn’t fill up with all the unresolved sexual tension Dean and Castiel had toted around with them for years.
Besides, ear plugs weren’t that difficult to get used to.
~~~
With the demolition team out of the house, Bobby reemerged to coerce Sam into being the sous chef. Now, Sam wasn’t afraid to try new things and he liked getting hands on, but he’d never done well with food preparation. It always seemed to him like he should be good at using a knife, but three bleeding fingers later, even Bobby had conceded defeat. Wearing an expression of one part, “how the hell have you survived this long?” and two parts, “you’re such an idjit, boy,” Bobby sent Sam into the living room with orders to decorate with “that green leafy crap the neighbors brought over.” Sam was more than happy to hang what turned out to be sprigs of holly in various locations around the house and let Bobby handle all the kitchen aspects of Christmas.
Sam was wandering around with his last two holly sprays when Dean and Cas returned. Dean looked just this side of murderous, but Castiel was smiling a little absently to himself and carrying a couple stacked boxes of simple glass ornaments, so Sam figured all must be well. While Cas set to work meticulously hanging each ornament, Dean strolled over to Sam.
“Hanging twigs, Sam? What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean reached out and snagged one of the sprigs, inspecting it closely.
“Hey,” Sam griped, “I’m just trying to help. And it’s holly, Dean. Not twigs. It’s a Christmas plant. You know, like, deck the halls with boughs of it?” Dean snorted lightly, plucking at the leaves with his fingers carelessly.
“Sure, sure, Sam. I hear ya,” Dean placated. Sam snatched the holly leaves away from him, pulling them close to his abdomen and cradling them defensively.
“Why don’t you go help your angel hang up ornaments or something. Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean responded gamely, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, even as he turned toward Castiel.
~~~
Sam could see them through the doorway of the kitchen, where he was cleaning up after a brief lunch. Something was afoot. Dean and Castiel had their heads bent together, speaking in low, harsh tones. Dean’s hands moved emphatically every now and then and Cas’ face was pulled tight. They were plotting.
“What do you mean,” Cas hissed, “you forgot?”
“I mean,” Dean grit out, “it didn’t cross my mind before just now.”
“You are a complete moron, Dean Winchester.” Dean looked suddenly affronted, but Castiel plowed on unhindered. “I am not even human and I understand the rituals of this holiday.”
“Look,” Dean snapped, “I fucking forgot, okay? I’ll fix it. Sam won’t care anyway.”
It was the name dropping that finally forced Sam to bust into their team huddle.
“What are you two fighting about now?” Sam asked, with no small amount of petulance. Both the face of his brother and the angel went slack. Dean quickly schooled his features into obviously feigned innocence and gave Sam a crooked grin.
“Oh, you know. Who takes it up the ass on Christmas Eve. No big.” Sam’s face crumpled in horror, like Dean had just informed him that ice cream and puppies and schools the world over had just been eradicated.
“I don’t ever want to hear those words in the same sentence ever again. I don’t care what you’re arguing about. Be an old married couple. I don’t care.” With one last sad shake of his head, Sam turned and resolutely marched away.
His kitchen hideout, occupied by one grumpy old codger, was short lived. Dean poked his head in after a few minutes and announced that he and Cas had forgotten something and needed to head back into town. Bobby waved him off dismissively and Sam pouted at him in that “you have peed on everything I love” kind of way. Dean winked, disappeared, and tromped loudly out of the house.
With Dean and Castiel gone, again, and Bobby suspiciously bent on making himself absent, Sam was left in control of the kitchen. Sam’s job was easy, according to Bobby. All he had to do was watch the timer and pull dinner out at the appropriate time. Sam was earnest and attentive when given his instructions, but a few minutes trapped in the too warm kitchen by himself drove him to distraction. His favorite pastimes for the moment were getting lost in the newspaper crossword puzzle and staring out the window at the gray clouds promising to spew snow. He was just trying to figure out a seven letter word for the clue “xylophone’s kin” when his eyes caught the first snowflakes drifting past the window. Sam smiled to himself, enjoying the realization of snow on Christmas Eve, and turned back to his crossword.
When next Sam looked out the window, it was only to see a wall of white. In shocked surprise, Sam dropped his pen and trotted over to the door. He shoved on a pair of boots and stepped out into a blizzard. The snow tumbled down into his untied boots and nipped sharply at his ankles, and Sam frowned at the winter wonderland. Dean and Cas were out there right now, and Dean was a good driver, but snow was a bitch. He hurried back into the house and began tracking down Bobby.
“Bobby? Hey, Bobby! It’s snowing. D’you think Dean’ll be okay out there?” He got silence in response. Sam growled in irritation and jogged up the stairs. Again, he called for Bobby and was met with silence. He flopped down on the top step in a mixture of irritation and worry. Sam sat there, stewing in impotent concern, for some time. He flipped his phone open and closed rhythmically, debating whether or not to start calling everyone he knew in a panic. He’d just settled on Dean’s name when a sharp, high alarm burst through the house.
“Oh, shit,” Sam hissed to himself, climbing to his feet and rushing down to the kitchen. The smoke alarm continued to blare at him as he pushed smoke aside with his large hands on his way to the oven. He fumbled to collect himself before pulling out the remains of dinner and staring at the charred beast woefully. “Good job, Sam,” he mumbled to himself. He threw open a couple windows to release the smoke and flopped down at the kitchen table. He let his head fall forward until his forehead thunked against the wood.
His self flagellation was interrupted when a snow covered Bobby appeared. The older man huffed an irritated sound and grumbled, “I see dinner is cooked.” Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t look up. Bobby shifted once, then turned to inspect the oven. After a few minutes of tinkering and quiet “hmm”ing, Bobby straightened and calmly said, “Well, it was an old piece of shit, anyway. It’s probably a good thing it set itself aflame.” With that, he turned and walked back out the way he came. Sam turned his head to narrow suspicious eyes at Bobby’s retreating back, but couldn’t be bothered to get up and follow him. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Sam pushed himself up and settled in for some clean up.
~~~
Dean broke the hush in the house with a frustrated, put upon moan.
“I cannot fucking believe this. Minnesota will be fine, he said. It’s a nice place. Sure it is, Bobby,” he mocked loudly. Sam set down the brush with which he was scrubbing smoke residue from the previously off-white kitchen appliances, and strode over to the front hallway. Dean and Castiel were both covered in snow, and while Cas seemed perfectly content, Dean was red nosed and scratching determinedly at one wrist. They were, Sam noted with mounting suspicion, completely devoid of any newly acquired items. What the hell had they needed to go out for?
“If I ever have to drive through a snow storm again, I will personally hunt down Mother Nature and rip out her lungs.”
“Dean,” Cas admonished, leveling an unimpressed gaze at the side of Dean’s head. Dean snorted.
“Well, it’s true, Cas. Those roads were bullshit. And all because we didn’t remember to get Sam his fucking do-” Castiel slapped a palm over Dean’s mouth, effectively shutting him up mid-sentence, and tipped his head in Sam’s direction. Dean’s eyes went comically wide for a moment before he pulled away and looked at his brother. His eyes narrowed after a moment and he sniffed the air contemplatively.
“You smell that?” he directed at Cas.
“Yes. It smells like smoke,” Castiel said calmly. Dean’s head whipped around to stare at Sam again.
“Uh,” Sam chuckled nervously, “welcome back.” Dean groaned, trudging past Sam with a pointed “learn how to cook, you bastard” stare and another aggravated scratch at his arm. Castiel gave Sam an awkward, crooked smile before following in Dean’s footsteps.
“Fuck it,” Sam muttered, going after them to face his brother’s wrath honorably. He found Dean in the kitchen, poking at what had once been a turkey and now more closely resembled volcanic rock. Cas stood nearby, completely uncaring about the loss of dinner.
“You suck,” Dean said as soon as he noticed Sam.
“Yeah, well, I was worried about your dumb ass out in the snow. The turkey was already dead, so it didn’t rank high on my Things To Care About list.”
“Dude. I had the fucking angel with me. If it went to shit, you know he would have been all ‘Sorry, Dean, but it’s time for angel air to save your sorry ass.’ He was gonna do it anyway, but I refused to leave my baby in a snowy parking lot by herself.” Cas snorted behind Dean and shared a long suffering look with Sam.
“Your refusal to leave your car behind cost you an extra hour of time, Dean,” Cas informed him waspishly. “If you had allowed me to bring you back, you would have been here in time to stop Sam from burning your dinner.” Sam watched Dean’s jaw twitch as he tightened it, scratching irritably at his palm. Sam bit back a smile at Cas’ smug expression.
“Yeah, well… There’s no fucking way my baby was going to be stuck in a parking lot all night, okay? Just drop it. Fuck. And why the hell am I so itchy, goddamnit!” Dean snapped, voice rising with each word. Sam stepped forward and grabbed at his arm, pushing up his long sleeves to see his skin.
Which, as it turned out, was red and lumpy. Sam bit back a snort of laughter and said in his best imitation of a doctor, “It looks like a rash of some sort, Dean.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Did you touch anything that’d irritate the skin?”
“How the hell should I know? I was at the store. I could have touched anything!”
“You touched the holly Sam was decorating with earlier today, Dean,” Cas supplied oh-so-helpfully.
“Son of a bitch.”
~~~
After much whining, Castiel had flitted off to scrounge up some antihistamine lotion for Dean. Bobby had reemerged (and really, Sam had passed suspicious and moved right on to total paranoia) and was taking stock of dinner options, while Sam sat back and surreptitiously watched the lovebirds.
Dean was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, while Cas squatted beside him. He was painstakingly applying lotion to Dean’s skin, checking both arms with undivided attention. Dean was staring down at him with a mixture of unrestrained affection and something else entirely too indicative of things Sam did not need to think about his brother and his brother’s angel getting up to. Castiel’s fingers slowly traveled down the length of Dean’s arm and settled warmly in the middle of his palm. The slow brush of his fingertips on Dean’s palm gentled a warm, shy smile out of Dean, and long lashes sunk over his green eyes. Cas leaned down and pressed a kiss to the heel of Dean’s hand, dragging his lips slowly up the length of each finger to press softly on each tip. Dean released a heavy, content sigh and Cas straightened up some to leave kisses along Dean’s jaw.
Sam cleared his throat loudly and focused firmly on Bobby. Some things were just not okay to witness.
Bobby, either immune to all the sexual tension radiating from the area of his kitchen table or completely focused on his task of finding food, turned around and announced, “We ain’t got much here by way of food. Chinese or pizza?”
After much throat clearing and embarrassed shuffling from Dean - to which Castiel just smirked like the cat who ate the canary - they finally voted on Chinese. Bobby handed a menu over to the boys, and immediately set to work spiking some eggnog. Sam was midway through writing down their list of food items, when every light in the house went dark. The undercurrent of electricity in the house was silenced, and for a few stretching seconds, all they could hear was the soft sigh of the world breathing.
Then Dean snapped a flame out of his lighter and the hushed spell was broken.
“Damn it,” Bobby muttered, shuffling through the dark around them. He produced a candle, which he set before Dean.
“I guess that means Chinese is off, then?” Dean sighed with a touch of disappointment, lighting the candle automatically. Bobby grunted, snatching up the candle and disappearing through the house. The other three remained in the dark, before Dean choked out a sudden laugh.
“What?” Sam asked flatly.
“Anyone know any good ghost stories?” Dean replied, holding the lighter near his face. Castiel snorted, but his quiet exhalation of, “Dean,” was filled with fondness. Sam laughed easily, even though it felt like their first real Christmas in forever was quickly tumbling down the drain. The flicker of light through the house returned slowly, followed closely by Bobby and an armload of stuff.
The stuff turned out to be an assortment of unscented candles and a couple of carefully balanced oil lamps. They lit everything, letting the warm flicker of fire brighten the room. After a few moments of silence, Bobby turned to the freezer with a candle in hand and poked his head inside.
“Well boys, we’ve got a couple bags of pepperoni pizza rolls, a Hungry Man dinner, and ice cream. I can’t be assed to dig out the generator in this snow, so we’re working with a finicky stovetop and a woodstove for cookin’. What say you to pizza rolls, ice cream, and eggnog?”
Sam and Dean stared at each other over the table for a moment, before Dean turned to Bobby and said, “Sounds good to us.”
~~~
Everyone settled in the living room with full bellies and full glasses. Even Cas had opted to bring a glass of eggnog with him, which had Dean leering merrily at him. Although the candles had lit the kitchen well, the much larger living room remained dark along the furthest edges. Dean was sprawled loosely beside Cas, his side pressed up against the straight backed angel. Sam sat on the other end of the couch, trying very hard to become one with the arm. Bobby had taken over the lone chair. They sat mostly in quiet, besides the occasional organization of fetching refills.
While everyone else seemed content with this arrangement, Sam was getting bored. He fidgeted restlessly, offering far too often to refill everyone’s drinks. Dean was definitely starting to feel the rum and Bobby, too, looked more relaxed than usual. He was just about to offer to get another round when Dean released an explosive sigh.
“Jesus, Sammy. You’re gonna drive me crazy if you don’t stop.” Sam blinked at him through the soft light.
“What?”
“I get it. You’re bored.”
“It’s too early to hit the hay yet,” Bobby chimed in. Dean laughed, an absolutely filthy laugh, and looked at Cas.
“It’s never too early to get in bed,” he murmured lowly. Castiel quirked a smile at Dean and dragged his tongue across his bottom lip suggestively.
“Oh, no! Not here, not now,” Sam said sharply. “I’m not going to allow this to happen while I’m sitting right beside you.” Bobby nodded once, emphatically, before pushing himself to his feet.
“May as well do any gift givin’ now. S’not like were waiting for the man in the red suit.”
“I hope not,” Sam muttered, mostly to himself. “Last time I met him, I lost a finger nail.”
“Amen to that. I nearly lost a tooth,” Dean said, raising his glass in a toast before downing the last of it. He stood up, giving Bobby a look before heading off. Sam supposed he was going to get gifts (and Sam sincerely hoped that Dean wanted to keep the old tradition of gas station gifts alive, even though he’d gotten Dean an actual present, too, this year), so he stood up and trotted off to get his own.
When he came back, he placed his few wrapped packages near the tree. Castiel and Dean were standing together, too casual. Bobby was still nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” Sam said in mild confusion, “Where’s Bobby?”
“Oh, you know,” Dean said, shrugging. A smile danced around the corners of his lips and Sam frowned at him.
“Bobby is retrieving your present, Sam,” Cas clarified gravely. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. What could they have possibly gotten him that Bobby had to go outside to get? His answer came galloping up to him a moment later with a jingle and the clack clack of long nails on wood floors. A brown and white spotted dog, tail wagging hyperactively, stopped at first Dean, then Cas, and finally bounced over to Sam. She was smallish - probably a pitbull mix - and seemed young. Sam grinned excitedly, dropping to his knees to receive kisses and to ruffle the thin white coat. She jumped around in front of him delightedly, and Sam grinned wider.
“Her name is Trace,” Dean said, a smile in his voice as he watched his brother play with the dog. “She’s pretty young. Needed a home, ya know? I figured we know a thing or two about picking up strays.” He bumped Cas’ shoulder lightly as he said it, but Sam was far too focused on the puppy bounding around him to take notice.
“Dean, I… She’s great. Awesome, really. But how-? We can’t bring her with us.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sammy. We’ll figure it out. Besides, she’s a snuggler and we all know how much girls like yourself like to snuggle, Samantha.” Sam frowned exaggeratedly at Dean, laughter in his eyes.
“You’d best like that damn dog,” Bobby interrupted gruffly from the doorway, “after I spent all damn day keeping her entertained.”
“Yeah,” Dean added suddenly, “And I wouldn’t have had to go out in a snow storm to get her all the crap she needs.”
Sam just grinned warmly, settling more comfortably on the floor so he could play with his new puppy and watch the other gifts be exchanged.
Dean presented Bobby with a box of Johnny Walker Blue Label, from all three of them. Bobby smiled, perhaps one of the friendliest, happiest smiles he had in his repertoire, and wandered off to crack it open. This left Dean and Castiel in this first round of gift exchange, so Sam gathered up his puppy and tried as hard as he could to be invisible. He knew they wouldn’t want an audience, but he really wanted to know what Dean had been so obviously nervous about giving Cas for the past few weeks.
Castiel was apparently unconcerned with Sam’s presence, because he reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow strip of gleaming metal. He offered it to Dean wordlessly, who took it gingerly and stepped over to a candle to more closely examine it. Sam could see that it was some sort of silver necklace, but there were small stones inset in a few of the links that he couldn’t identify.
“Cas?” Dean said softly, gesturing to the stones. Sam listened intently, probably just as interested in finding out about the necklace as Dean was. The angel stepped forward slowly.
“Emerald and hematite,” he supplied easily. At Dean’s obvious lack of understanding, he continued, “These stones bring luck in love.”
Dean’s face went carefully blank as he looked down at the necklace again. Sam held his breath, silently threatening Dean if he dared to break Castiel’s heart. Rough fingers slid over the necklace carefully, before Dean turned to Cas with a quiet, “Thank you.” Cas nodded once, a vulnerable tenderness sliding over his features. Dean shifted, working open the clasp on the necklace and attempting to hook it around his neck. After a few failed attempts, Cas batted his hands away and snapped the clasps together easily. Dean rolled his eyes, but grabbed at the angel’s chin and pulled him into a warm, chaste kiss.
Pulling away, Dean fished something out of his pocket and held it up in a closed fist.
“This is completely stupid,” he muttered, embarrassed. “It’s like every cliché Christmas movie ever.” He carefully cleared his throat and opened his hand. Sam sat up as straight as he could, peering at the object in Dean’s hand. It was a silver ring, thick, with two raised ridges near the outer edges. The thing practically screamed, “Hello, I’m an engagement ring!” but Sam carefully bit back any sound. Cas stared at it with wide, uncertain eyes, before looking up at Dean. The vulnerable expression of before returned full force, until Dean huffed and snatched up his wrist. With sharp movements, Dean slipped the ring over Castiel’s left ring finger.
Cas stared down at his finger, head tilted and eyes narrowed. Sam almost wanted to laugh - the poor angel had no idea what Dean was saying with this ring - but they were having a moment and Sam refused to ruin it.
“It’s beautiful, Dean,” Cas murmured softly, eyes flicking up to Dean’s. They stared at each other for a long moment, everyone holding their breaths, before Castiel stepped forward into Dean’s personal space. Dean brought his arms up and dragged his angel forward, both of them trying to kiss the other breathless. Sam looked away with a smile borne partly from embarrassment and partly from joy. His eyes caught on Bobby, standing in the doorway with a couple fingers of whiskey and a proud look on his face. Their eyes met briefly, and Bobby raised his glass before turning and shuffling quietly away.
Sam scooped Trace up and cradled the puppy close to him as he quietly snuck away from the living room. All in all, he had to say, his little family’s first real Christmas together had been a success. A success by Winchester standards, at least.
“Thanks,” he whispered to no one, “for giving Dean his real, normal Christmas. Even if it was 25 years late."
"Oh, and the rash was a nice touch. Bravo for that, man.”