Tag Archives: short stories

The Moment I Knew (Version 2)

Started: 17.11.14

Finished: 18.01.12

Words: 3,147

I actually completely forgot that I had written two versions and didn’t upload the second one. Sorry this is so late, but I hope you enjoy.

Based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name. (Listen to it here)

SF, Destiel, TW: Suicide (Mentioned)


“Cas?”

The mentioned turned away from the window, smiling as his eyes met emerald green.

“What’re you doing street watching?” the blonde flopped down on the couch and peeked through the blinds, “it’s just snowing.”

“I just needed a bit of quiet,” he couldn’t help the blush that crept up his neck.

“A bit of quiet?” Dean turned from the window to face him, “y’know it’s your party, right? You can tell them to shut up if you want.”

Cas chuckled and shook his head, “As long as they’re having fun and not breaking things, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well then you definitely don’t want to miss this,” the taller man stood up with a smile, “Gabriel’s table surfing.”

“Table surfing? Where?”

“On the kitchen island,” Dean tucked his hands into his pockets as he leaned back to check it out, “aaand yep, just what I thought. He’s got your cake precariously placed between his legs.”

Cas shook his head and laughed again, “Remind me next year not to serve alcohol.”

The taller man chuckled, offering him a hand, “C’mon. Let’s get you back to your party.”

“Cas!”

The voice startled the black-haired man out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked around, boulder beginning to grow in his stomach at the lack-of-Dean. His eyes flicked up to see Gabriel sauntering over before turning back to the window. Where is he?

“Are you deaf? I’ve been calling your name for like an hour!”

Maybe he’s just late… his eyes scanned the empty street, hoping against all odds to see the blonde materialize on the sidewalk, he said he’d be here.

“Hello?” Cas blinked as Gabriel waved a hand at his face, “anybody home?”

He sighed and turned away from the window again, “What?”

The brunette waved a dismissive hand, “Man, stop wasting your time waiting for that dickhead. What did I tell you? He’s not showing.”

“You’re drunk,” the raven-haired man felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes at his brother’s words.

No-no-no-no, he’s wrong. He’ll be here. He has to. He failed to swallow the lump in his throat and willed the tears away.

“C’mon, you’ve got candles to blow out,” he slung an arm around his brothers’ shoulders before dragging him off in the direction of the kitchen.

“You mean my cake didn’t fall during your surfing stunt?”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Surfing?”

“Yeah, on the-” he cut himself off and turned his gaze to the floor, oh.

The brunette’s eyes lit up with mischief, “Were you gonna say on the island? In the kitchen?”

“No…” wait, did he say I had to blow out candles?

Gabriel gave his brother a sideways glance, noting his saddening expression, “you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” I can’t believe it’s already that late. He better get here soon.

“Don’t worry little bro, I’ve never defiled your kitchen counter by surfing on it. Fooling around on the other hand…”

Cas shook his head and tried to push the sinking feeling aside, “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Pfft, naw,” Gabriel tripped on the lip separating the living room from the kitchen, before turning a lopsided grin to his brother, “okay, maybe a little. But it’s a party!”

The shorter man gave a tight smile as he helped him up, before going through the swinging kitchen door.

“Okay, sit here,” the raven-haired man was pushed into the only chair at the end of the island, before Gabriel scurried back out.

Everyone else began gathering around the table, continuing their conversations in hushed voices. Cas felt sweat break out across his neck, he knew it was his birthday, but the way no one was talking to him, and the way they all kept eyeing him while whispering, well… he wasn’t that stupid. C’mon, Dean, where are you? His eyes swept over all their faces absently while he waited, subconsciously searching for those emerald green’s.

Gabriel came back through the door, pushing it open with his back while he held the lit cake, face splitting with a grin as he made his way to the island, “Happy birthday…”

The room exploded with off-key singing as the cake was placed down in front of him. Cas couldn’t help feeling like the wind had been punched out of him when the cake was put down – it was like it cemented the fact the one person he wanted to be there the most, wasn’t.

He said he’d be here, he felt tears prick back at the corner’s of his eyes, this time failing to blink them away. He closed them in the hopes of keeping them at bay and tried to swallow the lump in his throat, I can’t believe he didn’t-

“Don’t wish for too much, Cas.”

He opened his eyes to see Gabriel starring at him, nodding toward the still-lit cake. Taking a quick look around the room again, maybe I just missed his face, he realized everyone was starring at him. Some confused, others leaning over to whisper to their neighbour.

“I-I don’t-” I can’t do this, he got up, avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He sunk to the floor as he felt the tears begin to fall, he promised…

 

 

Winchester!”

 Dean slid out from under the car he was working on to see his boss, chest heaving, face red, stomping toward him.

“Where the hell is my daughter?”

“Probably still sore from last night,” he smirked before sliding back under.

He felt his boss’ boot catch the end of his creeper, yanking him back out. The blonde glared up at the other man, I don’t have time for this.

The vein in his head began throbbing as he narrowed his eyes, “You want to try that again?”

The blonde ran a hand through his hair, shrugging.

His boss stomped his foot, face almost purple, “You will show me some respect, Diana!”

Diana? You really want to go there? He sighed before standing up, towering over his boss, “Sir, if I knew where your daughter was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, keep making those jokes. We’ll see how funny you find them tonight,” his lips curled into an evil smile.

“Tonight? I think you’re losing it man, I get off at six.”

His boss’ smile grew, face returning to a somewhat normal colour, “Is that so? Interesting,” he took a few steps away, mindlessly looking over his tools, “I could’ve sworn the schedule said you were covering for her tonight.”

“Covering for her? You mean taking the graveyard shift?” Deans’ hands balled at his sides, no chance in hell, pal.

“That’s the one,” he picked up a screwdriver, smiling at it, “such a gentleman, you are.”

The blonde grit his teeth and had to use all his willpower not to punch him, “How so?”

He put the tool down, out of place, before meeting his eyes, smiling sweetly, “Offering to cover her shift without pay, of course.”

“Listen, if you think-”

“No, you listen,” he was back in his face again, eyes sparkling dangerously, “The only reason I don’t fire you,” he dropped his voice, “is because I promised your father. But if you ever talk about her like that again you will be sleeping under the bridge off 33rd Street and fighting over a barrel fire. Do I make myself clear?”

Deans glared in response, knuckles turning white at his sides.

“Don’t forget who owns who.”

He backed off again, clapping his hands, “Okay, good talk,” he looked around the shop and spotted the other two mechanics watching, “What’re you looking at? Get back to work!”

They both jumped at being caught and rushed back over to their cars, keeping their eyes on their work. His boss pulled the lapels of this suit, straightening it before walking back across the shop to his office.

Dean waited until he saw the office door close before knocking his toolbox to the ground, “Fuck!”

Tony and Mike looked up from their cars again, both men only coming marginally closer. Dean tugged at his hair, grinding his teeth together, if he thinks I’m staying for the graveyard shift, he’s got another thing coming.

 

 

Shit, Dean glanced at his watch before checking the positioning of the creeper, this’ll have to do.

He locked his tool box before grabbing his jacket, sneaking over to his boss’ office. He peered into the window and saw he was sitting, facing his computer. The blonde quietly came around the other side of the office, pressing his ear to the door. He held his breath as he listened.

Just as I thought, he smiled, shrugging on his jacket as he heard soft snores. He strolled over to the door before taking one last look around the shop. Nodding to himself that everything was in order, he walked out the door.

“Damn!” he pulled his jacket tighter around his chest as the cold hit him.

Jogging to his car, he fumbled with his keys, fingers already freezing. Oh c’mon!

After what felt like forever he finally wretched the door open and climbed inside. He spent a minute rubbing his hands up and down his bare legs, making a mental note to start leaving an extra set of clothes in the car. Thank God I did laundry last night, he rubbed his thighs through his boxers.

He took his phone off the seat next to him, punching the speed dial before bringing it to his ear, please pick up… please pick up…

“Hello?”

“Cas, hey, buddy, I’m so sorry, my boss was being a dick and gave me the graveyard shift, but I’m leaving now. I should get there-”

“I-it’s fine, Dean. You don’t have to come.”

Dean blinked, next sentence of his explanation dying on his lips as he took in his shaky voice, something’s wrong, “Are you okay?”

He heard a sniff, “Y-yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to come over.”

You don’t sound fine, “Don’t be stupid, it’s your birthday, of course I’m gonna be there. I might’ve missed your brother making a fool of himself, but you and I both know the party doesn’t really start until I get there.”

“Dean,” his voice was hard, but the taller man didn’t miss the shaky inhale on the other line, “you missed the party. Everybody left.”

The blonde failed to swallow the guilt he felt building in his throat, “Oh.”

“Yeah, so just… it’s fine, don’t come over.”

Dean nodded, starring at himself in the rear view mirror, I should’ve been there, I should’ve left earlier then I could’ve- he cut himself off as he listened, heart breaking a bit as he heard the soft gasps of the man on the other line. He could picture him sitting there, hand over his mouth trying to keep the blonde from hearing him cry.

He closed his eyes, licking his lips, keeping his voice soft, “Cas,” what can I say? How can I make it up to you? “I’d still like to see you.”

“No, I-” another shaky breath, “you can’t.”

Dean felt his heart quicken, “What do you mean I can’t?” he was already jamming the key in the ignition, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Damn it, he threw the broken end of the key to the ground, eyes glancing skyward, you’re not gonna make this easy, are you? He looked around the lot, racking his brain for another idea, walk? No, it’s too cold for that. C’mon there has to be something I can-

He paused as he saw the old, broken down car in the corner of the parking lot, will it run in the cold? Time to find out, he climbed out of the car and all but ran to the other side of the lot, phone pressed tightly against his ear.

“Cas? You still there?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m on my way,” he tugged on the handle, not surprised to see it was unlocked.

“Dean-”

“I’ll be there soon, okay?” he dug through the glove box for the keys, “Don’t do anything… rash.”

A dry laugh filled the air, making his blood run cold.

His hand closed around the key, yanking it from the glove box, “Hey. Promise me you won’t do anything. Don’t even move-”

“Dean, I-”

“Promise me, Cas,” he jammed the key in the ignition, smiling as it roared to life.

“O-okay. I won’t move.”

“Good. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” he threw the phone down on the seat next to him before speeding out of the parking lot.

Hang on, Cas.

 

 

“No, no, no, no, c’mon baby!” he hit the steering wheel as the car began to slow down.

He was about halfway to Cas’ house, car running better then he’d hoped it would in the rain. Naturally, that was where his good luck ran out – now the car was dying as it tried to make it over the bridge. And it had started pouring. C’mon, I don’t have time for this, he turned the key again, swearing to himself as it didn’t start. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, scrubbing a hand down his face with a sigh, what the hell am I supposed to do now? He failed to ignore the feeling of dread that was settling into his stomach, he wouldn’t actually do anything stupid… would he? He spent all night with his brother drinking… something was definitely wrong when I called him earlier. Dean fumbled, hand searching the seat beside him for his phone, maybe I really am over-reacting, he hit speed-dial and brought the phone up to his ear, he’s probably fine, there’s no way he’d actually-

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

Shit. Dean ended the call before trying again, c’mon, Cas, don’t-

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

Shit, shit, shit, Dean was in the back seat, searching the car before his brain had registered he’d even moved, feeling of dread deepening. He double-checked the time on the dash, he shouldn’t be asleep yet, before he brought the phone to his ear, one more time.

He leaned his head against the window, struggling to see, “Why did it have to start raining?”

This is Cas,” He growled in frustration before snapping the phone shut and throwing it to the ground, I’ve got to get over there now.

How am I gonna get there? Stupid car, if only I could- he bit his lip, cutting himself off as his hands balled into fists at the realization, I’m gonna have to run it.

Fuck, the blonde ran his hands through his hair, eyes raising skyward, you’re really not making this easy, y’know that? I thought you were supposed to be the helpful one. He took a deep breath, picking the cell up off the floor, okay, alright, I got this. I can run it, sure it’s only ten blocks… in my boxers… in the rain… shit. No, okay, on the count of three.

One, he climbed back over into the driver seat, hand on the handle, two, he took in a deep breath and failed to banish the fact that the rain was coming down in sheets, three.

 

 

Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck! He wiped water out of his eyes, squinting to see the house numbers, 459… 459…c’mon, I know it’s- ah-ha! He ran up the driveway and pounded on the door, right hand tightening his grip on the cell.

“Cas!” He pounded on the door again, thankful for once that Cas had insisted on having a roofed porch.

“Cas! C’mon, man! Open the door!”

God damn it, he pounded once more on the door, before hoping off the porch, making his way around the side of the house to the window, you better be- he stopped when he saw the bathroom light was on, door ajar.

“Cas?” He tapped on the glass, wiping more water out of his eyes.

He failed to wipe the water from the screen, punching the raven-haired mans’ number, before bringing it to his ear, working his way to the other side of the house. He grit his teeth as he stepped through a bush, branches scraping against his bare legs. He peered into this window, thankful he had a better vantage point of the bathroom. He could see Cas’ legs stretched out in front of the door, not liking the boulder that was settling into his stomach. C’mon, Cas, pick up!

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

He pounded his free hand against the window, “Cas! Cas!”

Punching redial, he tried to calm his racing heart, he’s fine, I’m sure he’s just passed out from drinking. He always was a lightweight. And if he was alone with Gabriel-

“H-hello?”

His heart almost leapt out of his chest at the non-robotic voice, “Cas!”

“D’n?”

The boulder in his stomach grew, something’s not right, “Yeah, buddy. I told you I’d make it. Come open the door.”

Dean swallowed thickly, noting how laboured his breathing sounded, not liking how small his voice sounded, like he’s fading, “I-I’m outside, come let me in.”

He squinted into the house, willing his legs to move, twitch, anything. He waited a few beats, boulder growing with each shaky breath he heard come through the line.

“Cas? You okay? Come let me in, let’s-”

He heard a crash before seeing the phone fall to the bathroom floor. That’s it, he took a step back, checking out the window before kicking it. Glass shattered around him, mixing with the falling rain. It had barely exploded before Dean was already scrambling into the house, hands and knees getting cut on some of the pieces. He got himself back on his feet and all but ran to the bathroom, falling to his knees as he spotted Cas leaned against the bathtub, blood flowing from both arms.

“Cas,” his eyes welled up with tears, as he reached out to his neck, hoping to whoever was up there that he still had a pulse.

“God, Cas, what did you do?” He pressed his fingers into his neck harder, not liking the stillness he felt.

Dean peeled his shirt off in an instant, ripping it in half, “You’re gonna be okay,” he swiped at his eyes as he wrapped the shirt around his arms, “y-you have to be okay. Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll fix this,” his eyes scanned the room for something he could use to make him okay, I need you to be okay, “I’ll fix you. I can-”

He cut himself off and reached for the piece of paper that was on the sink, sliding it out from under the razor. He swiped at his eyes as he brought it down to his face,

Dean,

I’m sorry.

C

A strangled cry made it’s way past Dean’s lips as he pulled the limp body toward him, crushing it against his chest, “No, no, no, baby. Y-you? Y-you don’t-”

He buried his head into the shorter-mans’ hair, tears dampening the strands.

“I-I’m sorry, too.”


Need a less tear-inducing ending? Check out the original!

Want to read more? Check out other stories here!

What We Get To Be




Happy New Year everybody!

Hope you all had an awesome holiday break, and are ready to get back into the swing of things.

Posting will continue on with it’s regular schedule. (TAFs every other Friday [next fic Feb. 22nd, etc.], articles every other Monday [Feb.11th, 25th, etc.] , and Product Reviews every 13th of the month)

This is this years’ Valentine’s Day fic. Hope you enjoy the Valentine’s holiday whether you’re with that special someone, a group of friends, or are rockin’ stag.

This fic was inspired by the song Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman. Specifically the lyric: It’s up to you, and it’s up to me, no one can tell us what we get to be.

You can listen to the song here.

Written: 19.01.18

Words: 299

NFF


“Fuck!” She ended the call and slammed the counter.

“Uh, is everything okay?”

The voice from behind her made her jump, heart beating faster as she saw it was him, please, not today. He leaned down on the counter, a smidge too close for someone who was just a ‘friend’.

“I’m fine, I mean… I can handle it,” she shoved her phone back into her pocket and did her best not to squirm under his gaze.

“I know you better then that,” he brushed his hand against her arm, dropping his voice, “You need a place to stay, don’t you?”

She took a breath and slid her arm away, “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Says who?”

“Pfft,” she gestured broadly to the rows of desks outside the small kitchenette, “Take your pick.”

“You think I care what they think?”

“You should, if it got out that you were even thinking about being with me, it’d-”

“Hey,” he moved himself closer again, this time placing his hands on her shoulders, “let me worry about the press. You just worry about getting yourself to my place.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “I won’t be known as the one who wrecked your reputation!” she took a few steps back, turning her back to him as she felt her eyes fill with tears, “You’d never forgive me.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she savoured the comfort it brought. After a moment, she took a deep breath and turned back around, “You know if you do this there’s no going back, right?”

“If being with you is gonna wreck my reputation,” he pulled her into his chest, kissing her forehead, ignoring the gasps that came from behind him, “then it’s a reputation I don’t want to have.”


Like this story? Check out more here!

Stay That Way

This is this years’ Christmas/holiday fic.

On Dec. 14th I will be uploading a New Years fic, and then the last post of the year on the following Monday. (Dec. 17th) I will then take a two week vacation from posting, and will return in January! (I’ll explain more in the post on Dec. 17th)


Wee!Chesters

Words: 2,111


“… What are you doing?”

“Uhm…” Sammy’s eyes went to the ground, cheeks flaring, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” Bobbys’ eyebrows went up, “That’s an awfully loud nothing,” his eyes drifted to the lump under the covers on the bed, “a pretty big lump, too.”

The kid swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the lump before back to the father-figure standing in the doorway, “W-what lump?”

Bobby chuckled, holding up his hands, “Okay, okay. Well you just let me know if you need any help with that nothing.”

“… Okay.”

Bobby re-closed the bedroom door, shaking his head as he made his way down the stairs, what is that boy up to? He went out to the backyard, picking up the paint spray gun and mask, just down burn down the house.

 

 

Bobby awoke startled, hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, what in the hell…? He was out of his chair in an instant, stalking his way over to the kitchen doors, hand on his gun, mentally running through the salt-line check he’d done before falling asleep.

He opened the door and sighed in relief as he saw the five-year old jump up from the floor.

“Jesus, Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he leaned himself against the door, eyes roaming over the flour-covered counter, “Whatcha doing, Sammy?”

The brunette swallowed thickly and ‘hid’ a cookie sheet behind his back, eyes threatening to spill over with tears, “… Nothing,” at the mans’ eyebrow raise he sighed in defeat, bottom lip poking out, “I-I’ll clean it up…”

“Clean up?” Bobby craned his neck a bit so he could see over the counter and noted the un-cooked cookies that littered the floor, “Now why would you do that?”

Sammy blinked in surprise as Bobby got an apron out of the closet, “… What?”

Bobby’s heart broke, John what the hell have you done to this boy? He took the cookie sheet from the child and placed it on the counter, before winking, grabbing the mixing bowl, “We can’t let you destroy the kitchen for nothing.”

 

 

“Wow,” Sammy was practically laying on the counter, watching the cookies cool on a wire rack.

Bobby chuckled as he washed the last of the dishes, “You’d think you’d never seen a cookie before.”

“I’ve seen cookies,” he rolled his eyes, “I just can’t believe I made these!”

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”

“I know you helped but still…” he reached out to touch one, recoiling as it burnt his finger, “These look like real cookies. Like the ones you get at a store!” He turned to the older man, “I can’t believe we turned eggs and milk and all that stuff into these! It’s like magic!”

Bobby did his best to hold in his laughter, “Yeah, cooking is pretty cool.”

“Definitely,” he tilted his head a bit to the side, “… can making cookies be a job?”

“Yep,” Bobby leaned against the counter, taking a swig from his beer, “They’re called bakers.”

“Really?” his eyes went wide and he gave a thousand-watt smile, “That’s so cool! Do you think…” he bit his lip and averted his eyes, smile fading, “Do you think I could do that?”

“’Course.”

“But won’t Dad-”

“It doesn’t matter what John says,” he narrowly stopped himself from hitting the counter, “I mean,” he took a deep breath, “you should do whatever you want to do. Don’t worry if John doesn’t understand. Do what makes you happy.”

Sammy nodded before turning back to the cookies, “I want to make these every day!”

Bobby smiled, going over to ruffle his hair, “Then you do that.”

Just then, the boys heard a rumble from outside, the Impala.

Sammys’ face lit up again and he practically jumped off the counter, running to the front door, “They’re back!”

The brunette sped to the front hall before – much to Bobbys’ surprise – bee lining for the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut. Bobby looked after him for a moment before shaking his head as the front door opened, John bursting in, Dean in his arms.

That can’t be good, Bobby went to the kitchen, fetching the first aid kit, coming back as John placed Dean down on the couch. His face was set in a scowl, and he was covered head to toe in a mix of dirt and blood. Dean had a deep gash across his head that was oozing blood, glad Sammy decided to go upstairs.

“What happened?”

John shook his head, “He didn’t want to list-”

“John,” Bobby shot him a look as he pushed him away, kneeling down and beginning to clean the boys’ wound.

John let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he began pacing, eyes on the ground, “I told him not to go after it.”

“That’s great,” Bobby pushed the gauze harder against the wound, not liking that Dean didn’t even flinch, “What else?”

“What does it look like?” Johns’ hands balled into fists at his side, “The thing flung him halfway across the room, he only stopped cause he hit a wall. Head collided with the corner of a table on the way down.”

Bobby closed his eyes and grit his teeth, “He needs to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“John-”

“I said no!”

“Do you want him to die?” Bobby stood, turning angry eyes on the other man, “Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if he stays here.”

John blinked in mild surprise, “You can’t stitch it?”

“He’s unconscious.”

John took a step toward him, getting close enough Bobby could smell the whisky on his breath, “Can. You. Stitch. It?”

Bobby used all the strength he had to not punch him in the face, “No.”

“Fuck,” John blew out a breath, eyeing his son, taking a small step back, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Go to the hospital.”

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m still wanted for that skin-walker job, remember?”

Bobby grit his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to think, “Fine. I’ll take him, you stay here with Sammy.”

John paled a bit at the mention of his other son but nodded. He watched as Bobby picked Dean up off the couch, helping to load him into the truck. Bobby hopped in before giving John a death glare, “Do not tell him about this.”




 

“Seriously, Bobby, I’m fine,” Dean swatted at his arm as he was easing himself out of the truck.

“Oh yeah, you pass out from blood loss and get a concussion every day,” the older man gave him a pointed look and kept his arms out for support.

“Pfft, you know what hunting’s like,” Dean successfully stood on the ground, and blinked, swaying slightly on the spot, “It’s always dangerous.”

“You’re not your father, Dean,” Bobby shut the truck door and trailed behind the blonde as they made their way to the front door, “also, you’re nine.”

“Exactly,” He climbed the steps, leaning heavily against the banister, “Time for me to grow up.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and unlocked the door, holding it open for the blonde, not surprised to see John was no longer in the living room, big surprise.

“Dean!”

A mess of brown hair launched itself at the blonde, nearly knocking him over. He caught Sammy easily, plastering a smile on his face, but Bobby didn’t miss the flash of dizziness.

“Wha-? Who’s this?” he brushed some of the hair from his brothers’ eyes, “Oh, Sammy! There you are!”

The youngest giggled and Bobby was amazed at how quickly the elder could switch into Big Brother Mode. He began walking them over to the couch, “So, Sammy, what have you been up to?”

The youngest looked like he was going to explode, “I made you something!” his expression fell as he noticed the bandage on the blondes’ head, “What happened?”

“Eh,” Dean waved a dismissive hand, “I’m fine. What did you make me? Is it…” he looked around the room, pretending to think, “A Tickle Monster?” he then threw the five-year-old onto the couch before all but tackling him, tickling his stomach.

The youngest let out a loud squeal, doing his best to wiggle away. John came out of the kitchen at the yell, and Bobby was mildly surprised to see he had showered. He hung back as he saw what was happening. The eldest Winchester leaned against the doorway next to Bobby, small smile on his face.

Sammy began gasping for breath after a few minutes, face going red.

“Dean.”

At the sound of his fathers’ voice, Dean immediately stopped, smile fading and he practically jumped up from the couch, puffing his chest out. A soldier ready for duty. Sammys’ gasps had also died down, eyes going straight to the floor, as if he were ashamed.

“Sammy,” Bobby nodded toward the kitchen, “why don’t you go get what you made Dean?”

He nodded, smile reappearing before zooming back up the stairs.

Dean turned confused eyes to the other men, “What is it?”

Bobby shrugged, “Last time I saw it, it was a giant lump under the covers.”

A small smile graced Deans’ face, and his cheeks flushed.

They saw the youngest stop at the top of the stairs, whatever it was carefully hidden behind his back, “Close your eyes!”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them, “Okay! They’re closed!”

“I don’t believe you!”

Dean huffed, before opening them, giving Bobby and his father a look, “Little help?”

Bobby smirked, giving him a pointed look, “Well?” the blonde re-closed his eyes, “They’re closed, Sammy!”

The men watched as the youngest did his best to walk down the stairs without holding onto the hand rail. Whatever he made was big enough it needed his two hands to carry. He got to the bottom and carefully walked himself over, bringing the gift – that was carefully wrapped in red and white Christmas paper – out from behind his back.

“Hold out your hands,” upon doing so he placed the present in them, and chuckled as Deans’ arms fell a few inches, pretending it was heavy, “Okay, open.”

The blonde opened his eyes and let out a whistle, “You wrapped this?”

“Mhm,” Sammy was beaming, bouncing slightly where he stood, “Open it! Open it! Open it!”

“Okay, okay, geez,” Dean made his way back over to the couch, placing the present down on the coffee table.

He began unwrapping it slowly, brows knit together wondering what could be so heavy, before revealing a cardboard box.

He turned to his brother, “Wow, Sammy, it’s uhm…”

The youngest rolled his eyes, giving his brother a slight push, “It’s in the box, Dean.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

The blonde took his switch blade off his belt to open the box, prying the top open and peering inside, before letting out a small gasp. He reached into the box carefully, pulling out what looked to be a Lego version of their fathers’ Impala.

He turned his eyes to his brother, “What…? How did you…?”

“I built it!” Sammy was bouncing up and down, “I took all the black Legos I had from my other sets and built it,” he flung his arms around his brother, “Now you have one, too!”

“I can’t believe this…” Deans’ eyes drifted back down to the present he was holding, face stunned, “This is… amazing, thank-you.”

“Is that what you were doing up in your room all week?”

The youngest gave Bobby a nod before turning back to his brother, “You like it?”

“I love it,” Dean held the car up to his face, inspecting it, “You even got the license plate right!”

“Good job, Sammy,” Bobby went to sit on the arm of the couch, “Now that kitchen mess makes more sense.”

“Oh!” Sammy smacked his head, before running into the kitchen, “I forgot the best part!”

Dean starred after him, “There’s more?”

Bobby winked, “I helped with this part.”

The youngest returned a moment later with the cookies he and Bobby had made, placing the plate down on the table next to the car.

Dean looked over the cookies and chuckled, “Are these supposed to be us?”

Sammy nodded his head excitedly before removing one of the door Legos from the side of the car, placing one of the cookies into the driver side, “Look! They fit inside, too!”

“Wow, Sammy, that’s so cool!” Dean wrapped his brother up in a bear hug, “You’re one smart kid, y’know that?”

“I know!”

“This is great, Sammy,” he turned his eyes to the plate of cookies, eyes widening slightly, “I just have one question.”

“What?”

His stomach grumbled then, as if on cue, “Does that mean I can’t eat the cookies?”


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