Hey guys!
Well, it's officially the '25 days of Christmas' so I thought it would be okay to post this now. I wrote this last year, I needed a fuzzy warm piece. So there's no ghosties, no bad guys, just a nice piece to get you in the holiday spirit. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, instead I do believe they own me. I've been a friggin' angel this year so maybe Santa will come through...-crosses fingers-
A tall, well-built sixteen year old stood outside of a small store, shivering as the snow lightly fell around him. He glanced at his surroundings, taking note of the people rushing past him, their breaths creating little clouds that trailed behind them. The snow glittered as it fell, twisting and turning in the dim sunlight, and collecting softly on the ground. He knew they were in for one hell of a storm that night, he was only witnessing the beginning of it.
He returned his attention to the window, smiling as he caught sight of what he wanted. He dug through his pockets and pulled out the small wad of cash. He had just enough. It was his savings through out the year. He'd worked hard to save that money, but he knew this would be worth it.
With another smile, he slipped through the double doors.
-.-SN-.-
A tall, gangly twelve year old walked home, kicking up clumps of snow as he went. One hand was thrust deep into his pocket, his other hand wrapped around a box, and his head was bowed against the increasing wind.
His father just had to find a job in Minnesota in the dead of winter. The job had taken longer than expected, meaning they were stuck there that much longer. And now they were in for a nasty storm. Sam was just glad this was the last day of school before winter vacation.
Houses passed by, cheery decorations wishing him a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. He swore as he passed by them, and felt like stabbing a knife into one particularly cheery Santa.
Sam hated Christmas. The present exchanging, the lights, the food, everything. He'd never known a normal Christmas, and he was jealous. He'd never know the joys of Christmas, he'd realized years ago and since then had hated everything about it.
He hoisted the small wooden box higher onto his hip, smiling at the one satisfaction he was probably going to get. It was his gift to Dean. He was pretty sure it had almost gotten him kicked out of shop class until he'd explained he was making it for the family collector.
He continued his slow trudge until he was in front of the small motel they were currently living in. Sighing at the dreariness of it all, he inserted his key in the lock and opened the door.
Shock had him frozen in the doorway, the snow slowly drifting in around him. "Close the door, would ya?" Dean called from the small kitchen.
"What's all this?" Sam asked as he closed and locked the door, unconsciously stepping over the usual salt line. He quickly set the box down underneath his bed before Dean could see it.
The room was dimly lit by a string of lights stapled to the ceiling, giving the dingy room an almost cozy glow. A small tree sat on the table, also decorated with lights. A few ornaments hung from the plastic branches. Tinsel littered the branches, and the surrounding floor. A small box wrapped in red paper sat underneath the tree. In big fancy letters, it said "Sammy". The small fire place even held a small fire, which brightened and warmed the room.
The smell hit Sam then, causing his stomach to clench. "Are you…are you cooking?" His stomach rumbled.
"Dad called, says he's going to be back soon. Also said there was a hang up in the hunt, so he was going to use the time we had off from school for some training."
Sam groaned. It was typical. While most kids woke up and rushed to open gifts, they were going to be out in the woods somewhere, throwing each other around, on Christmas.
"So I thought we'd celebrate early this year," Dean finished. His words were followed by a small clanking of pans and the slamming of the oven door.
"Dean, we don't celebrate," Sam said, still a little bit shocked.
"Well, this year I thought we would. Plus I had to do something today while you were at school." The high school had gotten out a day early, and Sam could tell Dean had been out all day so he didn't have to be in the small room on his own.
"What are you making?" Sam asked, coming into the warm kitchen.
"It's nothing big, but I'm making a small turkey, some potatoes, and some stuffing."
"Not big Dean? That huge!" Sam's stomach growled again. "I didn't know you could cook like that."
"I don't either. We'll see how it turns out though, huh?" Dean said with a grin and a wink. "Besides, I've watched enough cooking shows to attempt to do this."
When the boys were younger, they'd often stayed up late, worried about their father. The only thing on at 3 in the morning just happened to be cooking shows. So they'd watched, salivating as the chefs whipped up amazing dishes.
"Now it's going to be ready soon so hurry up and freaking wash up," Dean said as he pulled a large pan out of the oven. Tin foil peaked from the closed lid. "Now, remove the bird from the oven and serve!" he said in his best Julie Andrews voice.
Sam jumped up and ran to the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves as he went, laughing whole-heartedly at Dean's imitation.
The boys soon sat in front of a table full of food. Dean was carefully carving the small turkey, cutting into its golden brown skin to reveal steaming white meat underneath. Sam filled his plate with the soft white mashed potatoes and the stuffing. The food steamed, their delicious smells wafting upwards, causing Sam's stomach to growl again.
"Can we start now?" Sam asked as Dean laid a juicy chunk of turkey on his small, cracked plate.
"No, not yet. Let's enjoy this," Dean replied as he loaded his own plate. Taking the gravy off of the potholder, he drizzled a healthy serving over his plate and Sam's.
"Ok, now we can start," Dean said as he sat down. The boys ate in silence, both enjoying the meal in companionable silence.
-.-SN-.-
Some time later Sam sat in the chair, his stomach full and his eyelids heavy. They had laughed and joked as they'd cleaned the dishes, pushing and poking at each other. Dean lay stretched across the bed, lost contentedly in his own thoughts.
"Hey Dean?"
"Yeah Sammy?"
"I have a gift for you." Dean slowly sat up to find Sam digging under his bed. He came out with a small box. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get it wrapped in time."
"What's this?" Dean asked, taking the box. It was a dark cedar, with a small golden lock on the front. "Dean Winchester" was carefully engraved in the top, the font delicate and flowing. "You didn't have to spend any money on me."
"I didn't. I made that. School paid for it," Sam said with a wide grin. Dean smiled, and opened the box. It was empty.
Dark blue velvet lined the empty space, a space that oddly resembled the shape of his favorite knife. Standing up slowly, he walked over to his sock drawer. He pulled the knife out, fuzzy clumps clingy to its blade. With trembling fingers, he carefully pulled off the small clumps of cotton and placed the knife in the box, finding that it fit perfectly.
"All that time you thought I wanted to practice with it, I was measuring it," Sam said quietly, pride laced throughout his words. "Teacher was mad the one day when I brought it to school, but I sort of talked my way into detention instead of suspension."
Dean blinked as he stared at the box. He closed the lid, the small lock clicking shut. A small key was pressed into his hand by Sam. He inserted the key into the lock, turning it and locking the box.
"That is awesome," Dean said, not quite sure how to convey his appreciation. Sam had put more into this box than thought possible, and that meant the world to Dean. He ran his hands slowly over the box, unable to take his eyes from it just yet.
"I have one for you also," he stammered, walking over to the tree and picking up his gift.
Sam smiled as he accepted the gift. It looked professionally wrapped, no doubt it had been done at the store. Very carefully he pulled the wrapping off, getting a "tear it off already" from his impatient brother. Laughing, he continued to carefully unwrap the gift, wanting to enjoy every minute.
He stared at his own wooden box. It was a bit smaller than Dean's and made of a lighter oak. With a questioning gaze he looked up at Dean.
"Go ahead, open it," Dean smiled.
The contents of the box were blurred by tears as Sam studied his gift. It was a knife, miniature, but it bared a striking resemblance to Dean's.
"You were borrowing mine all of the time, I thought you could use one of your own," Dean smiled.
"Dean?"
"Yeah Sammy?"
"Thank you for the best Christmas ever."
Dean was about to reply when Sam jumped up and hugged him. With a content smile, he wrapped his arms around his little brother. With a sly smile, he slowly wrapped an arm around Sam's neck, and with a push they rolled off the bed. They spent the next fourty-five minutes wrestling around, until they fell asleep sprawled on the floor.
-.-SN-.-
"You comin'?" Sam yelled from outside. The Impala roared to life, and a few angry bursts from the horn signaled his brother's urgency.
Dean sat on the bed, not moving. He fingered the faded box in his hands. The box was nearly eleven years old, but he was still able to clearly make out his name that had been etched so carefully into it. Taking the short chain and key out from underneath his shirt, he inserted it into the lock. He removed his favorite knife, an inserted it into the strap above his boot.
"Yeah yeah, hold your horses grandma!" Dean yelled back while carefully placing the box back into his bag.
He smiled at the thought that struck him. Maybe they should celebrate again this year.
And I am so glad they are celebrating this year! Come on December 13th!
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed. I hope you all have a good one this year, and if you don't celebrate some sort of holiday, I hope you just enjoy the winter season (crap or summer season from the other side of the world lol).
Loves,
Kris