Reminder: This is 2020’s last fic. I’ll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I should be back January 15th with the first fic of the new year.
Written for the SPN Amino apps’ Secret Santa 2019. I got Not Natural – The Parody, who’s favourite characters are Dean and Charlie. Their bio said they were a Dean girl, hence the xReader part. I posted this in the app last year, and apparently forgot to post it here.
Oh, no-no-no-no! You spin around, eyes desperately sweeping over the boxes of Christmas decorations that litter the floor. I can’t believe I can’t find it… you drop to your knees and begin digging through the nearest box, it has to be here… he’s gonna kill me!
The turning lock of the front door made your head whip up like a dog, and you feel your heart leap out of your chest as the blonde walks through the door.
He shakes the snow from his hair and toes off his shoes, before stopping, eyes glancing to the half-decorated tree behind you, thousand-watt smile splitting his face, “What’s this?”
You stand quickly, nearly knocking the box of decorations over, fidgeting with your sleeves, “I-I thought you were going to be working all day.”
“Eh,” he waves a dismissive hand as he makes his way over, “Tony slipped a little something extra into Boss-Mans’ coffee, he should be out till tomorrow.” He notes the look on your face and raises an eyebrow, “If you don’t want to spend Christmas Eve with me, I can-”
“No! No, I do,” you force a smile and take a step closer, he’s so going to kill me, “I just wanted to finish before you got back, that’s all.”
“Oh, well,” he wraps his arms around you, and pulls you against him, winking, “Now I can help.”
“You…” the blonde closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You lost it?”
“No! Of course not!” Your hands are shaking and you’re doing your best to hold back tears, “I distinctly remember putting it in one of the decoration boxes last here. I just…” you sigh, hanging your head, “I can’t remember which box.”
“Oh well,” he drops his hand and shrugs, giving you an incredulous look, “That’s just great.” He stomps a few feet away from the tree, “the one ornament I have that actually means something to me, and you can’t find it. That’s… that’s awesome.” He snatches his coat and makes his way to the front door.
You feel your own rage begin to rise, and stomp a few feet toward the door, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s not like I lost it on purpose.”
Dean shakes his head, wrenching the front door open, “I can’t deal with this right now.”
Your jaw drops as he disappeared, slamming the door shut behind him. What the… Fuck! You run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath. Okay, you shake your head, swiping at your eyes, spinning back around to face the mess behind you, back to problem number one.
“What are you doing here?”
Dean scoffs, easing himself down onto the bar stool, reaching for the beer bottle, “Save the lecture.”
“Hey,” Charlie held her hands up in mock surrender, “I was just curious.” She jumps up on the stool next to him, “Although, now that you bring it up…” she gives him a crooked smile.
He lets out a heavy sigh, “She lost Moms’ ornament.”
He turns, “What do you mean ‘so’? It was Moms’ ornament!”
She raises an eyebrow at him, “Did she lose it on purpose?”
“Well, no, but still, I-”
She shrugs, “Then it doesn’t matter. Yeah it sucks, but are you really gonna let that ruin your holiday?”
He shakes his head and takes another swig, “You don’t understand…”
“Maybe.” She began twirling around on her stool, “But if that’s the worst thing to happen to you this year?” She shrugs again, “I’d say that puts it in your Top 10 Best.”
He gives her a sideways glance, “I hate you.”
She gives him a cheeky smile, “I know.” She bumps his arm, nodding toward the door, “Now go save your Christmas.”
You take a step back to admire the freshly decorated tree, giant smile splitting your face, damn, I’m good. He’ll love it! Your face falls as the knot reforms in your stomach, stop that. He will love it. You chew your lip as the cloud of worry begins to creep back in.
You jump and turn around, cheeks burning as you see the blonde standing in the hall, “I-I didn’t-” you cut herself off, shaking your head, “You really like it?”
“’Course,” he flashes a small smile as he comes closer, “How could I not when it was made by my favourite girl?”
You’re unable to ignore the pang in your heart at the statement, “I’m your favourite girl now? Huh.” You turn back to the tree, crossing your arms.
You hear him take a few steps closer, but don’t bother turning, “You’ve always been my favourite girl.”
You feel tears well up in your eyes as he places his hand on your shoulder, and need to use all your strength to break out from under it, heading toward the kitchen, “Could’ve fooled me.”
“C’mon. That’s not fair.” He follows you in, placing his hands on the counter, “You know I’m not good at this.”
You scoff, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you don’t accuse your girlfriend of purposefully sabotaging your happiness.”
“Wow, hey,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “I never said that.”
You spin away from the oven to give him a look, “You might as well have. The face you made when I told you I couldn’t find it?” You close your eyes for a moment, image flashing through your mind, no longer able to hold back your tears, “God, Dean you looked at me like I killed her!”
His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, “Wha-? I-I… No, I…”
“You can’t look at me with that much hate and then just waltz back in here like everything’s fine!” You turn back to the stove, swiping at your eyes, “That’s not how it works.”
You hear him take a deep breath, before you feel his hands on your shoulders, “I didn’t… I could never… I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss into the top of your head, “I shouldn’t of overreacted.”
You sniff loudly and swipe at your eyes, willing yourself to stop crying as you feel his arms slide down to wrap around your waist, chin resting on the top of your head, “I-I’m sorry.”
“No, hey,” he spins you around, lifting your chin so you’re looking into his eyes, “It was just an ornament.”
You sniff loudly again before digging your hand into your pocket, pulling out the carefully folded picture and placing it in his hand. He gives you a quizzical look but opens it, revealing the faded family photo that had been in the ornament, “I…” you take a steadying breath, “I found it at the bottom of one of the boxes. The bulb was shattered, but I thought if we got some ribbon, we could put her at the top of the tree.”
He lifted watery eyes to you, smile on his face showing his gratitude.
You give him a small smile of your own, before sniffing the air, oh no! You push him back a few steps, grabbing the oven mitts before wrenching the oven door open, smoke billowing out, “No-no-no-no!” You reach through the smoke and pull out the burnt pie. “Shit!”
He peers over your shoulder and smiles at the black rock, “My favourite.”
You roll your eyes as you take the oven mitts off, “Please, don’t.”
“What? I’m serious!” At your pointed look, he sighed, before grabbing a fork and digging into the middle, plunging a giant forkful of burnt pie into his mouth. He squinted his eye as he crunched through it, swallowing before flashing you a blackened toothy grin, “Yummy.”
“Yeah, I bet it tastes awesome now that you’ve burnt your taste buds.”
He shrugs at you before diving back in, unflinchingly putting another forkful in his mouth.
You can’t help but smile as you watch him continue eating, “You really don’t have to eat it. It’s fine.”
“I know,” he smiled at you around the black bits, “It really is my favourite.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“No, really.” He took another mouthful, “this is great.”
You shake your head as you watch him continue to devour the pie, “Okay, fine, I’ll bite: why is burnt pie your favourite?”
He shrugs, barely looking up from the ruined dessert, “It’s how Mom used to make them.”
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