Supernatural Short Stories

There For You

Warnings: Subtle mentions of miscarriage

You could hear him in the kitchen, clattering pans, humming to himself. Something banged onto the floor, and you jumped but made no move to go see what Jensen was up to. In fact, you hadn't really cared to be a part of any of the holiday things that Jensen was up to. It made you feel guilty, but you just couldn't bring yourself to celebrate the holiday. At least, not this year.

Something glass shattered in the kitchen, and that's when you finally gave in. Tossing off your favorite plush blanket, your slippered feet padded softly on the hardwood floors towards the kitchen.

The sight around the corner was enough to stop you in your tracks. Your normally spotless kitchen was a mess. Flour was everywhere. On the counter, on the cabinets, the floor. Pots and pans littered every available space, and the smell of burnt sugar filled your nostrils.

Jensen stood at the over, his cheeks covered with floor and green icing as he hummed. "What are you humming?" You asked.

The cookie slipped from his finger, landing on the floor with the frosting side down. "Something about Christmas cookies. It's a country song," he muttered, leaning down and picking the cookie up, tossing it in the trash.

Sitting down on one of the stools, you stared in amazement at the decorated cookies on the racks. "You've been busy."

He came around the counter, sitting down beside you, turning your stool until you were facing him. "I needed a distraction. And I thought that maybe they would cheer you up."

The gesture tugged at your heart. You knew this time was as hard on him as it was on you. Laying on the couch wallowing in self-pity wasn't fair to him either. "You cheer me up," you tried assuring him, cupping his cheek in your hand but he turned away.

"No, I don't," he muttered. "At least not anymore. Not since...," his voice trailed off, both of you thinking of the tragedy you had recently gone through. "I want to. I...,"

You slid from your stool, wrapping your arms around his waist, your head nestled against his chest. "We both need cheering up. And while things haven't been the same for a while, I'm hoping the Holidays can fix that. I know I've been a little mia, but you shouldn't have to go through all of this alone."

"You have an excuse. After losing a baby, you are allowed to take all the time in the world," he assured you, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"You lost her too," you whispered softly, the thought hammering away at your already battered heart. "We both lost her, and I know it's going to take a long time for both of us to come back from that. But we need to do it together."

"So now what?" He asked, and you glanced up at him. He had flour on his nose, green frosting on one cheek, and in his hair. To you, he had never looked better.

"Want to bake some Christmas cookies with me?" He asked. "Or at least decorate them?"

"I would love to," you assured him, picking up a gingerbread man and the white frosting. And while the cookies might not heal the hole in your heart, you had a wonderful man who would be there to heal both of your hearts together.