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This was the most fun Sam’d had in weeks. Years maybe. It was certainly the best Christmas he’d ever had. Because for once, they weren’t in a crappy motel, Dean wasn’t dying, and Sam wasn’t worried about dad being dead or too drunk to even know it was Christmas. And this year, he had Cas.
Charlie was on a ladder, hanging bright green garland everywhere. He wasn’t sure where she got the stuff, but he liked it. He liked making the Bunker feel more like home. It always felt more like home when they had company, but somehow something about this felt more real. Sam was stringing lights anywhere he could, using a considerable amount of tape to get it to stick to the wall, but he didn’t really care. He was a sucker for bright, shiny things. Sue him.
Cas seemed to be mesmerized by the lights that he was helping Sam hang up the good old-fashioned way.
Duct tape.
Sam didn’t notice at first, but now that he was standing next to the angel he realized that Cas was humming. Something about that didn’t click with Sam right away, but why wouldn’t Cas hum Christmas songs? It wasn’t exactly like this was his first Christmas. After all, he was there for the very first one.
Cas had told him that story, about Gabriel pulling a prank by scaring the shit out of those shepherds. Sam had to laugh, thinking about his dysfunctional family compared to the heavenly one. He wondered where it all went wrong. Where brothers became enemies. Where fathers decided their children were too much work and jumped ship.
He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts and started humming along with Cas.
It wasn’t long until Charlie started singing and after a while Sam decided to join in too.
“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: a partridge in a pear tree!” Charlie sang, her bright red hair braided with festive green ribbon. On top of that she was wearing a giant Santa hat that kept flopping to the other side of her as she slid on the hardwood floors during their over dramatic and off key rendition of the classic song.
Eventually, even Cas was singing along and Sam couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin that spread across his face, especially when Charlie grabbed Cas’ hands and made him dance with her.
Dancing with Cas is about the same as hugging him. He’s like a rather large, awkward rock and you just had to do with it what you could. Charlie was doing well, moving Cas’ arms and giggling. It had taken Sam years to learn to read Castiel properly, but by now he was well versed in the small smile that crossed the angel’s stubbly face. It meant Cas was happy and Sam had to smile. Happiness was so rare to come by these days.
He made his way to the kitchen, leaving his best friends to their antics while he thought about making hot chocolate. After all, it was Christmas.
Sam searched the cabinets for the powder he could’ve sworn he bought at the store a while ago, but couldn’t find it. He did find cocoa powder though. And miraculously enough, it was still within date. Sam bit his bottom lip as he thought about the idea of making homemade cocoa and finally reached into another one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out his recipe box. It was an old thing, something Benny had started. Sam had slowly started adding some of his favorite recipes and some of the recipes that Jess had loved too.
It was her hot cocoa recipe he was using now.
Sam was whisking together the cocoa powder and milk as Cas made his way into the kitchen. Sam had to stifle a laugh when he turns around to see the angel. A purple bow was stuck to the top of his hair, yet he looked at stoic as usual.
"What are you making?" He asked as Sam continued to whisk.
“Uh, hot cocoa. Figured it would just add to the holiday spirit.”
“Yes. Charlie has been talking to me about holiday traditions. Why do humans enjoy such sad songs during what is supposed to be such a happy time of the year? She said there was a shoe song that we aren’t allowed to listen to,” Cas said, squinting his eyes and tilting his head slightly to the side. It was Sam’s favorite part about the angel. He might not understand, but he tried. He really did. But Sam didn’t really have an answer to that.
“You know,” he said, “I’m not really sure. Maybe people are trying to balance things out.” Sam looked into the cocoa mix and swallowed hard before amending his statement. “Maybe… maybe Christmas just isn’t the best time for a lot of people.”
Sam tried to sound indifferent, but he couldn’t help but think about how, for the longest time, he stopped celebrating Christmas altogether. Then there had been Jess and Brady and a little tree in his dorm room. And then there had been pagan gods and mellow sweet wreaths and Dean’s last Christmas. What was supposed to be his last Christmas, at least.
And then there had been nothing.
There had been a ghost hunt last year. A werewolf attack the year before. Before that it had been a ghoul. Sometimes there had been snow, but there was never Christmas. Until this year. Until Charlie and Cas and the bunker and homemade hot cocoa.
Cas obviously heard the tinge of sadness in Sam’s voice because the piercing blue eyes softened ever so slightly, his edges became less hard, this was the way Cas looked when he was thoughtful. When he was listening.
Normally, Sam liked it when Cas looked at him like that, but now it just felt like pity. But before Sam could say anything, Charlie was hollering down the hall about needing someone big, strong and handsome and Sam just grinned.
“I think she’s calling for you. I’ll be in as soon as I’m done here,” Sam said, leaning over to give Cas a quick kiss on the cheek before the angel left. After the cocoa was done, Sam reached into the cabinet and pulled out everyone’s favorite mug.
Charlie’s was a solid black mug with thick, white, cursive writing on the front that said Nox, but once Sam poured the hot liquid into the mug it slowly started turning while and the white writing faded away and on the other side appeared the word Lumos is the same black font.
Cas’s mug was a bit more silly. Well, a lot more silly. Sam had gone to one of those paint-your-own pottery places last year and had painted a mug for Cas, back when the angel was human and had an affinity for coffee. There were two cats on the mug, one was solid black with bright blue eyes and the other was a brown tabby. The black one was wearing a blue tie. The brown one was wearing a plaid shirt. It wasn’t Sam’s most subtle gift ever, but the angel seemed to love it.
Sam’s was a mug Jess had given him. Well, a replica of a mug that Jess had given him. The original hadn’t survived the fire, but Sam knew where she bought it. It was just a simple cream colored mug with the words “Carpe Read ’Em” with a few book spines on it. The mug was chipped and well-worn by now, but Sam had kept a hold of it. It was the same way with Jess’s burnt copy of The Hobbit that Sam kept tucked into his duffle.
There are some things that Sam would never be able to let go of and he was so grateful that Castiel understood that. He was glad Cas loved Sam even though a part of his heart would always be buried with Jess. Sam didn’t deserve it, but he loved it.
Once he topped off the cocoa with mini marshmallows he made his way back into the main room where he was greeted with... Sam honestly wasn’t sure how to explain what he saw.
One, because Cas was still wearing that bow on his head. Two, because Charlie was grinning in that way that seemed to eat her whole face and Sam had learned a while ago that nothing good was happening when she was grinning like that. Three, because Cas had that confused eyes-squinted-head-titled look on his face. Four, because there was mistletoe.
“I don’t understand,” Cas was saying. “Why would I kiss you? You’re not interested in those of the male gender and you know that Sam and I are romantically involved.”
Charlie was still grinning and Sam was starting to grin too.
“Well, one, we’re standing under mistletoe,” Charlie said, grin still in place, “which means you have to kiss me. But also, haven’t you heard of platonically kissing? Because it’s totally a thing.”
“Why would we kiss under a poisonous plant?” Cas asked, still not understanding. Sam didn’t blame him, he had never understood mistletoe either.
Charlie just shrugged, “Because nothing says the ‘holiday spirit’ like murderous plants?”
“Mistletoe is not just poisonous Charlie,” he said in all seriousness. “It is also parasitic. I don’t understand this human tradition, it seems to have nothing to do with the ‘holiday spirit,’ as you call it.”
Charlie just shook her head, “Muggle. It’s just a Thing That Must Be Done because it’s Christmas. Okay?”
Cas’ head was still tilted as he filed the information away in his brain in what Sam imagined was labeled “Useless Information on Humans.” After Cas gave her a small nod, Charlie stood on her tip toes to kiss Cas on the cheek. And, without looking away, she said, “You’re next Sam.”
Sam laughed and carried over the mugs. “How about I give you hot chocolate instead?”
“Deal. But only because you used my favorite mug,” she said, kissing Sam on the cheek as well before taking the hot cocoa and curling up on the couch.
Cas took a mug too, smiling when he saw his mug. Sam smiled back as they all settled down to admire their decorations. As he sunk into the soft chair he let his shoulder relax and let go of the tension he always seemed to carry.
“You know what’s missing?” Charlie asked, after a few moments of silence. Sam wasn’t sure because, in all honesty, nothing was missing.
They had garlands and strings of lights. They had a tree, complete with cheap plastic bulbs and some homemade ones that Charlie added. They even had a fake paper fireplace taped to the wall. For crying out loud, they had friggin’ mistletoe.
Charlie nodded thoughtfully before standing up abruptly and heading to her room in the bunker. Sam glanced over at Cas, but the angel didn’t seem to understand any more than Sam did.
When Charlie came back carrying red and green paper and glue sticks, her lips were stretched wide in a manic grin. He knew just by looking at her that she was about to go full out Christmas elf on them.
“You boys ever made paper chains?”
-oOo-
That’s how Dean walked into the bunker and got a mouthful of festive paper chains. After tearing the paper away so he could get inside and out of the freezing cold, he was once again trapped by more paper chains. There were paper chains everywhere.
On the ceiling.
Hanging off the stairs.
Hanging from the bookshelves.
Everywhere.
It looked like Christmas had fucking thrown up throughout the bunker. Dean wasn’t entirely sure that they hadn’t been visited by the Ghost of Holly Jolly or something. Everything was red and green and sparkly and Christmas music was blasting from speakers that Dean didn’t even know they had.
The shit just got weirder as he walked down the stairs cautiously, only to find his brother singing at the top of his lungs like he only does when he’s completely off his ass drunk. But, nothing else about this Sammy seemed like drunk Sammy. Besides the fact that he was hanging upside down on the couch. That’s never been a drunk Sam thing (but there’s no way that could be a sober Sam thing either). It just didn’t fit. His giant ass brother hanging upside down on the couch like he did when he was nine and bored out of his mind.
And Charlie was singing along with Sam, but not as loud and not as off key and just not as in generally horrible. But, she also kept getting the lyrics wrong. Dean wasn’t sure if that was on purpose or not, but he was almost positive that someone had spiked whatever the fuck these crazy kids were drinking.
Was that a bow on Cas’ head?
Dean was not sober enough to deal with this shit.
-oOo-
Three cups of eggnog (that was more whiskey than eggnog in all honesty) and Dean was still too sober to deal with a Sammy high on hot chocolate. He hadn’t seen Sam this happy in what felt like forever. He was wearing this ridiculous headband with fabric antlers and way too many jingle bells attached to it. There was a light in Sam’s eyes that Dean hadn’t realized was missing until it was back.
Another cup of eggnog later and Dean was sitting at the table with the rest of the makeshift Winchester family piping his name onto a cheap red and white felt stocking in silver glitter glue.
Actually friggin’ glitter glue.
Dean couldn’t even pretend that this was the least bit manly. It was glitter glue.
Dean felt like he has been transported out of his own life and into something completely new. And by the way that Sammy was smiling, he felt the same way too.
But hey, if acting like a literal Christmas made-for-tv special made Sammy happy, Dean would happily oblige.
He just hoped no photographic evidence was taken of him in that Christmas sweater…