"Oh, God! Cas! Get in here, you gotta see this!"
Castiel didn't understand why he heard so much laughter in Dean's voice. If the situation was so urgent that Castiel had to leave the comfort of the bed right at that moment, why would he be laughing?
Blinking at the bright, morning light streaming through the window, he sat up, stood up, and trudged into the bunker's front room upon Dean's request.
Dean was smiling, amusement coloring his entire face, with teeth showing and squinted eyes and all when he saw Cas head poke around the corner and into the doorway.
"Why don't you come sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want for Christmas?"
"This is the dumbest idea you've ever had." Sam dragged his hand down his face and rolled his eyes theatrically over his fingers.
"Is it, Sammy?" Dean asked, "Is it really?"
"Possibly." Sam ran his fingers through the long, thick, grainy, and obviously fake, white hair that was lying on one of the unorganized dollar store shelves. "And why do I have to be the Santa?
"Because. You can do the voice."
"You haven't even heard me attempt a Santa voice."
"Well, you don't want to hear me try." was Dean's only argument. And with that, Sam snatched the beard, eyeing his brother suspiciously for a moment, before he turned to make his way towards the check out, his arms full of various other costume pieces.
It was quite an interesting case. Sam had found it in a local Lebanon newspaper, actually. Why not take a break from bigger things and work a small, local case during the holidays?
Well, that was Sam's teasing argument to Dean. It earned him a bump in the shoulder from Dean's coffee mug, but Dean leaned over his shoulder to have a look at the paper anyway.
"Fourth Santa Fired This Week" the headline read. Dean, nodding his head in approval, skimmed over the article underneath that vaguely discussed of the strange similar occurrences of Santa's sudden bouts of insanity, raging through crowds of children, throwing a couple of parents over his shoulder. Afterwards, all the Santas claimed not to remember the incidents at all.
"Well, Sam." He sat beside him, sliding a second mug across the table, and under the newspaper in his brother's hands, "It seems you ve got a new job at the mall this weekend."
And then Sam was there, slouching uncomfortably on the couch, with a white beard hiding his face, a pillow stuffed under his cheap, velvety, red shirt, his matching red pants held up with a belt too tight to fit around his new, jolly belly, clunky boots that dragged his feet down when he tried to walk, and a ridiculous, floppy hat on his head.
Even worse, Sam was there, with Dean trying to hold back his laughter and Cas grumpy face squinting at them from the doorway.
"This is the saint humankind created to lie to their children about to keep them acting morally? The man with the flying reindeer and-"
"None other!" Dean interrupted Castiel.
"I believed he was imaginary."
"You know, if enough people believe in it, it can come true " Dean shrugged, biting his lip in an attempt to hold his laughter down. It only made Castiel tilt his head in suspicion.
However, he moved from the doorway, sluggishly dragged his feet across the floor, and plopped down right onto Sam's legs, barely leaning against his pillow-belly. "I want..." Castiel sighed and thought for a moment.
"I want peace within the world. All these nations fighting, all these cultures, groups, labels, always squabbling. I don't like it. I wish for peace on a bigger scale as well. Between humans and angels and... maybe even demons too... "
Dean, at this point, had a hand over his face. His shoulders were shaking, and he paced out of Castiel's view with Sam's eyes following him, shooting invisible lasers through his stupid, grinning face.
"And" Castiel went on, "I'd very much like the stabilization of the bee population. I've seen the news articles. And bees are such beautiful creatures and so important to this earth's fragile life, I just don't think I-"
"Cas." Sam cut him off. "I don't think I can do that, I'm sorry."
"Aw, dude! You didn't do the voice!" Dean whined.
"Sam?"
Castiel finally opened his eyes enough to see well for the first time that morning as he studied Santa's face. He subconsciously reached up to run his fingers through the store-bought beard.
"Yes, it's just me." Sam admitted and tugged on the beard, revealing his face.
"And...?" Castiel laid a hand on Sam's belly and nearly jumped to his feet when it squished inwards a bit too easily to be human.
"It's a pillow." Sam answered, "It was all Dean s idea."
Castiel shot the older brother a look of annoyance and sunk down, sprawling out over the couch, and nuzzling his face into Sam's pillow, and Dean finally broke out into what he would swear later were certainly not giggles, "You are not sleeping there on Samta?"
"You're the one who woke me up."
Sam placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder and shook him lightly, "Come on. What if I have to pee?"
"Hold it and blame your brother."