This is the 2nd last story of 2022. I’ll be taking the last half of December, and first half of January off from posting. I’ll be back January 13th 2023, with the first story/post of the new year!
Fluff, Destiel (Implied), Sabriel (Implied), 2022’s Christmas story
Dean turned around at the excited yell, quickly tossing the box of Christmas tree ornaments he was holding onto the couch in order to catch the daughter who was running at him full speed.
She launched herself at him, giggling as he easily caught her, nearly taking the newly set up tree with him, “Hey, Sweetheart.” He shifted her in his arms, raising an eyebrow, “What’s got you so excited?”
“Dad said we can make cookies for Santa!”
“Oh, did he?” Dean flicked his eyes off his vibrating daughter to the raven-haired angel who was standing a few feet away, “And who did he say was going to the grocery store to-”
“Relax, Dean-O.” The new voice from behind him made the retired hunter turn around, semi-surprised to see Gabriel and his brother come out of the kitchen, holding up a grocery bag, “We already wrestled an old lady for the last bag of chocolate chips.” Gabriel unceremoniously tossed the bag toward the blonde, “All you have to do is bake them.”
“Me?” Dean let out an incredulous chuckle, flicking his eyes between the three men, “You guys expect me to bake? Don’t you remember what happened last ye-”
“Please, Daddy?” Taylor’s voice got him to look back at his arms, “Dad doesn’t make them right, and they need to be perfect for Santa.”
Dean let out a sigh as he stared into her big, round eyes, silently cursing his brother for teaching her puppy dog eyes. “Fine.”
He winced at her loud shriek, unable to help the smile from splitting his face. He adjusted his grip on her, sliding the grocery bag partway up his arm as he started over toward the kitchen, “But if we’re baking,” he stopped in the doorway, pointing to the three men standing in the living room, “You guys are finishing the tree.”
“Are they done yet?”
Dean chuckled, catching his daughter as she tried to get closer to the oven, “Not yet, Sweetheart.”
“Ugh!” She let out an impatient groan and stomped her foot, “They’re taking forever!”
The blonde had to bite his cheek to keep the smile off his face as he flicked his eyes up to the clock, “It’s only been 10 minutes.”
“How much longer?”
Taylor let out another loud groan, head falling back to look at the ceiling in annoyance, “But we made them so small!”
Dean shook his head, carefully letting his arm fall from her chest once he was sure she wasn’t gonna head butt the oven. He straightened up with a shrug, getting started on cleaning up the mess that was all over the kitchen island, “We gotta make sure they’re cooked. You don’t want to give Santa cookies that’ll make him sick, do you?”
Her eyes narrowed as she climbed up onto one of the stools at the island, watching the blonde, “I guess not.”
“Good. Cause kids who poison him don’t get presents.” He had to resist the urge to chuckle as he bent down to put the flour away at her gasp.
He straightened back up to see her staring at the closed oven door. She was staring so intently, it was as if she was attempting to will the cookies into baking faster.
He shook his head as he slid the small bowl with leftover cookie dough he put aside toward her, grabbing a spoon, “You know they won’t cook faster just because you want them to.”
Despite her matter-of-fact voice, she continued staring, much to the blonde’s amusement. He let out a dramatic sigh as he grabbed the wooden spoon off the counter, “Guess that means you don’t want to help me eat the rest of this, huh?”
That got her attention.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she noticed the bowl, and the wooden spoon that was now in front of her. Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion, and she tilted her head to the side, “I thought you said eating raw cookie dough would make you sick?”
Dean couldn’t hold back his mischievous grin as he dipped his spoon into the leftover batter, “I didn’t put eggs in this one.”
She didn’t seem all that convinced until he put the spoon of dough in his mouth. After watching him swallow it, she tentatively picked up the wooden spoon, taking a small scoop from the bowl. She cautiously brought the spoon to her mouth, eyes not leaving the blonde.
Dean chuckled and lowered himself down to rest one arm against the counter as he went in for another scoop, “Pretty good, eh?”
“Yeah…” She still seemed like she wasn’t sure if this was a test or not, but went in for another scoop, anyway.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Dean flicking his eyes up to the clock every so often to make sure he didn’t burn the cookies.
Taylor huffed after a while, dropping her spoon into the bowl, holding her head in one hand.
“Relax, Sweetheart, they’ll be done soon.”
“They’re taking so long!”
Dean chuckled at that, “Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
Taylor shrugged, keeping her eyes on the island, “Dad says I get that from you.”
“Oh, does he?” Dean chuckled again, reaching across the island to tickle her.
She shrieked with laughter and tried to wriggle away from his hand, but alas, the island wasn’t quite long enough to get her out of his reach without her getting off the stool.
“Daddy, no!” She turned her head from one side to the other, taking in some gasping breathes between her laughter, “Stop!”
He kept tickling for a little longer, stopping only once her face started to turn red. He looked up to the clock, smile splitting his face, perfect.
Dean made his way around the island toward the oven, taking the tray of cookies out. He carefully placed the tray down on top of the stove, inspecting the cookies.
Taylor was still trying to regain her breath as she jumped off the stool, taking a few steps toward the oven, “A-are they ready?”
Dean poked one with a toothpick, smiling as it came out clean, “Yep, they’re done.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle as he picked the tray back up, walking it carefully over to the island. The blonde placed the tray down, sliding the oven mitt off his hand as he reached for the cooling rack with the other.
Taylor watched in wide-eyed fascination as he moved the cookies onto the rack. After a few moments of intense staring with her mouth open, he raised an eyebrow, “You’d think you’ve never seen me make cookies before.”
“These ones are special.” She rolled her eyes, “They’re for Santa!”
“Yeah,” He finished placing them onto the rack, before spinning around to place the tray in the sink, “But until he eats them they’re still just regular cookies.”
“Can we put them on the plate me and Tyler made last year?”
“Sure.” He walked the few steps over to the plate cupboard, pulling out the crudely drawn Santa and reindeer painted plate, sliding it across the island, “We have to wait until the cookies are done cooling before moving them, though.”
“Ugh!” She threw up her hands, letting out another annoyed groan, “More waiting?”
Dean chuckled at that, nodding, “Unless you want Santa to get soggy cookies…” At her look, he nodded toward the door, “Why don’t you go see if Dad and Uncle Sam need help with the tree?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, giving the blonde a pointed look, “I’m too short to decorate the tree.”
“Riiight,” He came back over, sliding himself across the island, lowering his voice, “Then why don’t you grab your brother and see if you can find where Dad and I hid your presents?”
Her face lit up at that, and she leaned toward him, “I thought Dad said you didn’t get us any.”
He gave her a pointed look, lowering his voice further, “Dad lied.”
Her jaw dropped open in surprise at that, eyebrows disappearing under her bangs, “Whoa.” She leaned impossibly closer, eyes sparkling, “Where are they?”
The blonde chuckled at that and he leaned back, shaking his head, “It wouldn’t be much fun if I told you, would it?”
She was bouncing with barely contained excitement, “At least give me a hint!”
“Fine,” Dean flicked his eyes up to the closed kitchen door, “You didn’t hear it from me, but you know that square on the ceiling at the end of the upstairs hall?”
He gave her a shrug and a wink, “If I were you, I’d start there.”
Her face broke out into a big smile at that, and she all but ran out of the kitchen, nearly smacking Cas in the face with the door as she exited.
“Taylor, slow down!” Cas shook his head as he made his way into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow, “Do I want to know what that was about?”
Dean waved a dismissive hand, coming around the front side of the island, “Don’t worry about it.”
Cas chuckled as the retired blonde wrapped him up in his arms, “Uh-oh.”
“No, no uh-oh.” The blonde placed a kiss to his cheek before backing out of the hug, making his way over to the sink, “Everything’s fine.”
The raven-haired man snorted, “Yeah, cause I don’t know you well enough to know that’s bull.” He was smiling as he watched the blonde start on the dishes, “Hey, those can wait.”
Dean turned from the sink, raising an eyebrow, “The dishes can wait?”
“Very funny, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, before holding out his hand, “Sam said he wanted to talk to you.”
“Pfft, send him in here.”
Cas took in a deep breath, eyes flicking skyward for a moment, before he nodded, “Fine.”
He disappeared back out the kitchen door, giant walking through a moment later.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean nodded as he started scrubbing the tray, “What’s up?”
“Well, I didn’t want your hands to be covered in gunk when I handed it to you,” The giant made his way closer, sliding a slim newspaper wrapped package toward the edge of the sink, “But merry Christmas.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow, “You couldn’t put this under the tree with the rest of them?”
Sam huffed, “I didn’t want- can you just open it?”
“Okay, okay, geez.” Dean turned the water off, drying his hands on a spare towel, before flicking it up to rest it on his shoulder, “I’ll open it.” He picked up the package with one hand, other one slipping into one of the pockets of his apron, producing a similarly wrapped smaller package, “But you gotta open this one, too.”
The giant eyed his brother as he accepted his own gift, “This one couldn’t go under the tree?”
“Just shut up and open it, Bitch.”
The brother’s shared a smile before they went to work opening their respective gifts. They chuckled in unison as Dean unveiled skin mags, and Sam unwrapped beef jerky and car freshener.
Dean shook his head as he stared at his gift, “You know I have a husband now, right?”
Sam smacked his arm at that, “Does that mean you don’t want it?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.” Dean chuckled, rolling the magazine up before sliding it into his apron. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, “Merry Christmas, Sam.”
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
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