Chapter 1

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Sam nearly choked on his morning coffee when Dean told him his idea. "You want to do what ?"

"Celebrate Christmas," Dean repeated. "Presents. A tree. Turkey. The whole shabang."

"But it's January."

Dean paused moving his bacon around the frying pan to turn and give his brother a withering look. "I know that! I just thought that since Christmas this year was, well...kinda crappy—"

Sam snorted. "Dude, all of our Christmases have been crappy."

"Right. Well, I figured since we've officially moved into the bat cave, we should celebrate! And what better way to celebrate than with a li'l Christmas shindig?"

Sam screwed up his face in confusion. "Why?"

"Why not?" Dean flipped his bacon over in the pan, wincing slightly as the grease sizzled and spat across his bare forearm. "I thought you loved all that crap: the uh, tinsel and twinkle lights and stuff."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, when I was a kid! I grew out of all of that a long time ago." Seeing the look of disappointment flash across his brother's face, Sam hurried, "I'm not saying that I'm against the idea! It's just that we've never bothered doing anything for it before."

"Exactly! Every Christmas for as long as I can remember, we've been stuck in some lousy motel room without so much as a microwave to heat up our meals. But now, with the bunker, we've got everything that we need to have our first real Christmas together— you know, as a family."

"Okay..." said Sam slowly. "A housewarming party I get—although I'm not sure who we'd invite aside from Cas and maybe Garth—I just don't get why it has to be a Christmas party. Can't we just have a real Christmas party at, you know, Christmas?"

Dean sighed and avoided Sam's bemused gaze. "Because knowing our luck, one or both of us won't be here to celebrate next Christmas. I just thought it'd be nice, y'know? Pretend to be normal for once in our frickin' lives."

Only the sound of the sizzling bacon cut through the heavy silence that followed that grim prediction. Although Sam didn't want to admit it out loud, they both knew that Dean was probably right: given their track record and their current ongoing attempts to seal the gates of Hell forever, it seemed highly unlikely that either of them would make it 'til the end of the year. Dean felt embarrassment creep up his body—he didn't even need to look at Sam to know that his brother had that pitying expression on his face.

"Dean..."

"You know what? It was a stupid idea," he grumbled as he plated up his food.

"I don't think that it's stupid," said Sam gently. "Dude, I get it. Listen, I—"

"Just forget I said anything," Dean snapped. "CAS! Breakfast is ready."

There was a flurry of wings and a gentle breeze tickled Dean's cheek. Dean picked up the plate with the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich he'd made earlier alongside his own breakfast and turned towards the kitchen table only to find his path blocked by Cas's solid form. Dean stumbled backwards, grunting as his hip bashed the corner of the stove, nearly dropping both plates of food in the process. To the untrained eye, Cas looked like a damp squib in his oversized trench coat and crumpled office tie, but Dean knew better than to judge this particular book by its cover. Still, he was a little taken aback at how firm Cas's chest felt beneath his thin shirt.

"Hello, Dean," Cas rumbled. Dean rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep his friend.

"Dude, we've talked about this already," he reminded him. "Get out of my ass."

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