Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Winchester Christmas

Christmas With the Winchesters

Note: Hey guys. I'm sorry if you don't celebrate Christmas, but I would necessarily knock this--or the imagines I'll release in the following days. I'm agnostic, so I really only celebrate the cultural associations of Christmas and play more into the spirit of the season rather than the religious output. 

Shoutout to AlexOfAsgaard, who is probably the best person ever, who also gave me the term 'Non-denominational winter celebration'.  

Warnings: Nope. 

Song: Instrumental Christmas Channel, Pandora

Christmas With the Winchesters

"Don't be a grinch."

If Dean had a dollar for every time she had uttered those words, he would be able to buy a plane ticket to get as far away from her as possible. Sam had defended her, stating that his reaction to the accusation reaffirmed the truth of it. 

He watched with a resigned exhaustion as she ran around the tree, leaving tinsel in her wake, laughing as she went. He didn't really know how she managed to have so much high concentrated Holiday Spirit, but he imagined that he would wake up the following morning to her jumping on his bed at five in the morning, hollering about Christmas gifts and Santa Claus.

"How does it look?" She asked, beaming from her place beside the tree. Dean rolled his eyes and gave her a thumbs up, as Sam came in with a few mismatched mugs.

"Looks great, Y/n." He praised, handing her the snowman mug. 

"Thank you. What's this?"
"Hot chocolate."
"I didn't know we had any."
"Merry Christmas."

She directed her damn near blinding smile at him, and he felt the need to look away.

It wasn't that her spirit was annoying, it was just a lot. The brothers weren't all that into the season, but she had a myriad of traditions she'd held up since she was a kid. It made Dean a little bitter, and Sam a bit wistful. She'd gone so far as to drag a tree down into the bunker and damn if that didn't get everywhere. 

"Okay, so, we can either watch 'A Christmas Story' or 'It's a Wonderful Life'. Whichever one we don't choose, we can watch tomorrow morning."

"Y/n, maybe we should just get to bed--"
"Don't be silly, Christmas Eve only comes once a year, it's the penultimate in holidays that use anxiety as a cause for celebration!"

"It's just...late, and we don't really want to..."
"Be tired tomorrow?" She tilted her head in a very Castiel fashion. 

"Goddamn." Dean groaned, taking a sip of his beer just to spite the hot cocoa Sam had brought him. "You've been going on about Christmas non-stop all month, we're sick of it. We don't want to watch any stupid movies."

She visibly deflated. "But it's a tradition?"

"It's your tradition. Not ours."

He glanced away so that he didn't have to watch her stare down at her lap. Sam felt the need to say something, but couldn't conjure the words. It wasn't like it wasn't true, but it shouldn't have been said. She stood, slowly, mug in hand as she padded over to the plug for the tree. She yanked it out without ceremony, and the bright multicolor lights switched off.

"Y/n, come on, he's just--"
"He's right." Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry. Goodnight, guys."

She went off to bed, and once he heard her door close, Sam turned to face his brother. 

"Nice, Dean."
"What? We were both thinking it."
"That doesn't make it right."

Dean rolled his eyes and stood, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"We're not the Christmas type. She knows that, and she still shoved it in our faces."
"Maybe she was just trying to make us the Christmas type. And you just crapped all over her good intentions."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

With that, he sauntered off to bed.

The next morning, Sam thought he would be the first up. Instead, he found Y/n sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. Oddly enough, she wasn't wearing her candy-cane flannel pajamas, and even stranger, she seemed to of taken all of the decorations down. From fuzzy stringed tinsel to cute paper snowflakes, the bunker had been fully decked, and now was not.

"Merry Christmas." He greeted her, and she responded with a limp wave.

"Happy non-denominational winter celebration." She hummed, taking a drink out of her upsettingly non-holiday themed mug.

"Listen, don't let what Dean said--"
"What Dean said was perfectly right, and valid. I'm sorry, I was a Christmas kid with a family that loved it. You two weren't. So merry Christmas, yeah, but I'm trying to tone it down."

She abandoned her drink and patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. He shook his head and went about making his own coffee.

By noon, Dean was just barely awake, and Y/n had holed herself up in her room. All that was left of her previous enthusiasm was the tree and the stockings she'd pinned to the wall. Both theirs were full--hers was missing. Both of the brothers begrudgingly emptied their gift-filled socks. All of the cheap little things were personal and sweet, like bookmarks and bottle openers. The guilt only grew the longer she stayed in her room, and by mid-afternoon, Cas popped in.

"Hello." He greeted, rather steely and grave, as always. "What happened?"

He was likely referring to the blasting de-Christmasification the bunker had undergone. The last time he was there, it had looked like a mall exploded. While not inherently depressing, the change was certainly upsetting.

Dean called a lame 'Hey' from the couch, and the angel looked around again.

"Y/n got upset and took the decorations down," Sam explained, running a hand through his hair. "Dean snapped at her for being too happy."

"That's not it and you know it."
"Doesn't matter, she's still locked in her bedroom."

"Marvelous work." Cas glowered at them, before walking towards her room. Dean turned to his brother.

"Was that...sarcasm?"
"Yeah. Even he understands that wasn't cool."

They heard her door open, and then close, and Cas didn't come back out. They figured he might have poofed out, but an hour later he and Y/n came out. She looked a lot happier than she had that morning, and she had a...rose, in her hair.

"What's with the flower?" Dean, who was still sprawled on the couch, looked away as he hollered his question.

"I understood the societal convention of gift-giving and thought she might like it."

Smiling, Y/n patted the angel on the shoulder as she walked by. 

"And I love it." She praised him and continued into the kitchen.

"How'd it go?" Sam was eager to hear everything, but Cas simply shrugged. 

"She shared her family traditions and history with me. There were photographs. She was very animated."

Before anyone could reply, she came back into the room with a few beers and passed them out to the brothers.

"Hey, guys. I just wanted to apologize for the past few weeks. Sorry, I got a little overexcited."
"Y/n, you didn't--"
"Sam, stop, I completely understand." She gave him a small smile. "Why don't we go out for dinner?"

With that, they all got dressed and drove out to a nearby diner.

Dean got a burger, Sam and Y/n got crappy 'Holiday Dinners', and Cas had a cup of coffee. Finally all on the same page, they enjoyed a very nice Christmas Dinner.