Author's Note:

Last year I did a Christmas drabble thing for the Avengers and I think this year I'm gonna go with Supernatural :) So as I said last time, please review and leave a story idea that you'd like to see. Even if it's as simple as saying 'I want to see a Christmas-y thing with Bobby and… say… Garth' I'll figure something out for you.

I can't say that I'll be able to write one for every day but I'm gonna try, alright? Anyway please enjoy this Christmas Tradition!

Ho

Dean didn't give a shit that it was the 'Christmas season,' as far as he was concerned it was just another month in the year, possibly more annoying than the rest. His family gatherings sucked, he loved to see his brother, his mom, and his dad but never in the same room. His parents had gotten a divorce long ago but they still tried to 'get everyone together' for the holidays, as if nothing was different. And hey, it was kind of like nothing had changed, they still fought more than a hockey team.

Sam was always amazing to see again, though. His life seemed so perfect with an awesome job and an awesome wife – but that was the problem, wasn't it? Sam was perfect. John made a point of shoving that in Dean's face every now and always. And yet Sam and John argued over the littlest things, they hardly got along at the best of times; forget the stress of the holiday season. But whatever, Dean put up with it because Sam only flew in from California a few times a year.

No, Christmas sucked, he was certain of it. Every holiday had more advertising each year than the year that passed; and Christmas was the absolute worst of it. The moment Hallowe'en stuff came down from the shelves Christmas shit went up. People put on stupid smiles for all of five seconds before bashing one another's heads in for the cheapest version of the toy their bratty kid wanted, or even just faked nice that one month of the year in case someone thought maybe they'd give them a good present. It was always about getting, getting, getting. Mine, I want stuff, if I give a nice present to this guy he'd better give me an equally nice or better gift or I'll be pissed for the rest of the year.

Dean didn't want to give a gift because he knew that he'd be looked at in a disapproving manner; his presents were never as nice or elaborate as Sam's. Not that he was upset with Sam for that, if he could give nice stuff then why not? Go for it. What bothered him was that his parents didn't seem to give two shits about what he did. No, what they did care about was what he didn't do, or didn't have. He didn't have a nice girlfriend to show off, he didn't have a fancy job where he got paid big bucks, he didn't have a perfect life.

He had a fucking normal one. Dean worked full-time at a university and while that sounds fancy-ish it wasn't enough because his actual job was to clean and fix things. He was a janitor/mechanic/gofer. It wasn't bad though, Dean loved to talk to the students, give them an ear when no one else seemed to be listening. He didn't care for the cleaning part but it was a mindless thing to do with himself as he passed the time, and what the hell, he had friends on site. Jet was another one of the cleaning staff and that guy was a riot if nothing else, Dean loved to work the same buildings as him.

But his family couldn't see that part, the fact that he was happy with where he was, and that's what made him feel miserable about it. Dean wouldn't quit his job just because family gatherings weren't perfect, he'd just have to put up with the passive-aggressive commentary for an evening or two and then go back to regular life.

At that time regular life consisted of seeing 'season's greetings' and 'happy holidays' and fucking Santa Claus everywhere he went. And Dean could understand that, wanting to wish people the best in the coldest and darkest times of the year, but the music. The fucking music burned into his soul like a life-seeking missile and blew him apart. And it was everywhere.

Everywhere.

He walked into a mall, 'Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the-' nope.

He went to a drug store, 'Dashing through the-' nope.

He walked into a freaking hair salon, 'I want a hippopotamus for Chris-' fuckin' NOPE!

That night he went to a strip club to try and forget about it. One thing his parents didn't know was that he hadn't ever brought a girlfriend over because he wasn't interested. Dean had never informed them that he preferred men, and really he didn't think they needed to know. But that didn't matter, he just wanted to relax and forget about family and Christmas and bullshit.

And then a remixed version of Feliz Navidad came on. Dean dropped into a random chair at a random stage piece and shook his head, at least Feliz wasn't as bad as the other ones but it was one of those songs that got stuck in your head for centuries.

Dean looked up as the dancer's routine started and he was pleasantly surprised at the sight. He'd expected Christmas themed everything, Santa Claus and slutty elves but not this stripper. This guy was wearing all white, lacy undergarments, stockings and a garter belt – and were those little wings on his back?

Dean felt his breath catch in his chest when the angel looked at him, sharp eyes fixed on him for that brief second and Dean felt like he was on fire. This guy was beautiful. And that hadn't occurred to him just because there wasn't a whole lot of clothing present, or even because of the slow way he shifted his hips. No, there was something genuinely amazing about this dancer, this person that had Dean's attention.

While Dean would have normally said that he'd seen nearly every strip-club move in history and nothing caught his attention anymore, he had been proven wrong. Because it didn't matter how generic a grinding move on a pole might look, this angel did it sweetly, perfectly, even somehow innocently. It was gorgeous. Dean was awestruck, infatuated and it showed.

Before he knew it the dancer was in front of him, and the closer this man got the more Dean could see. The lace was slightly transparent and he could make out the well-taken-care-of hair around a bulge that he felt himself thirsty for. Dean had seen plenty of dicks in his time and he couldn't remember being that anxious, ever, to see one.

He licked his lips, inhaled shakily and dared to look up at the angel's face. Blue eyes, those were the first thing he saw. Blue eyes and a face shaped by the gods. Dean didn't know what he was doing anymore; he'd never been so stricken by a dancer before. His staring hadn't gone unnoticed of course and in seconds, painfully beautiful seconds, the stockings came off his dancer and the coy little thing dropped them into his lap.

Dean's fingers wrapped around them and clenched, he didn't plan on giving it back.

Each article of clothing wound up in his lap, one after the other until finally his angel was naked and he had lacy underwear flicked onto his shoulder. Dean didn't bother to move it; he just wanted to see everything. His angel's body was remarkable; the subtle curve of his spine that led into the swell of his ass had Dean losing his mind. He wanted to touch but he knew better. He wanted to kiss those lips, slightly chapped and plump, pink and open for him.

Dean swallowed thickly and shifted his legs, an attempt to hide the obvious. The angel leaned back off the pole and let himself slide to the floor, each movement a slow crawl to Dean's side. He reached over, Dean couldn't breathe, his hand touched Dean's thigh and moved it back to separate his legs again.

"Baby don't do that," he whispered and his voice sent a wave of pleasure down Dean's back. "I want to see what I do to you."

Dean had no presence of mind left. "Okay." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, he could feel his cheeks were burning and his body felt red-hot. Going to the club was the best decision he had made all holiday season.

His angel smiled and gave a wink, "That's my boy."

Dean fished into his pocket as the performance continued, he found all of the cash he'd brought for the night and took it out, holding it as he watched. No other dancer could do what this one did; Dean knew that already, there was no point in continuing the evening after this one. It sucked that he was on so early in the night but Dean didn't care, he'd made up his mind.

His angel's dance routine ended, the performer's chest heaving just slightly as he tried to hide how out of breath he was. It was still the hottest thing Dean had ever seen and he struggled to find his words as his angel rose from the floor and headed for the backstage.

"Angel!" Dean called out and watched as those blue eyes turned back to him. He lifted the wad of cash he'd been grasping so tightly, "Come here for a second." He felt his throat grow tight as that naked, beautiful man approached him and knelt down right in front of him. Smooth, tanned skin, toned muscle and legs that looked like they could crush his skull filled Dean's vision for a moment and he almost forgot what he was doing. "You earned this," he said with a smile and handed the whole bundle over.

A hesitant hand took it from him, that was the first time Dean recognized a feeling of frailty from his angel. He watched as the dancer thumbed through it, those blue eyes widened so far. It wasn't a wad of one dollar bills, Dean Winchester wasn't a cheap bastard with people he felt deserved better. "Merry Christmas, angel." He winked and was about to turn away but that same hand, as hesitant and scared as it had been before was strong on his shoulder as it stopped him from going anywhere.

Dean looked up again just in time to feel the hot press of another mouth on his, the slick tongue of his angel slipped past his slack defenses and explored him immediately. Slightly desperate hands found purchase in his hair, fingers ran through and raked over his scalp just hard enough to have Dean's knees feeling weak.

And then it was over. He gasped for air and stared up in more awe than he had previously, just watching as his angel winked at him.

"Merry Christmas."