A/N: Okay, its the holiday season, and I randomly thought of this, really no rhyme or reason, but I hope you guys laff.
I had some help writing this from SamIsTheHotterPsychic... check out her story 2.. ok??
Christmas Wishes
"Cheer up, Sammy, It's Christmastime!" Dean said, noticing Sam sulking in the shotgun seat.
"Oh yeah, merry freaking Christmas. Let's go shoot another banshee, or a shapeshifter," Sam shot back. "That's always fun."
"What's your problem? Need a Midol?" Dean asked Sam, and Sam shot him a look.
"Not funny, Dean."
"I think some Christmas music might cheer you up," Dean said. Sam had been like this for the past week. Dean tuned the radio to a holiday station.
"Oh, please, if I hear Jingle Bells one more time, I might shoot myself." Sam said, smiling fakely. Dean raised one eyebrow and turned the radio back down again.
"Come tell Santa what you want for Christmas little boy!" Dean said, bluffing a Santa voice, pretty well Sam had to admit.
"That's creepy, Dean, you sounded like an 80 year old man in a Santa suit."
"Tell me the truth, Sam," Dean asked seriously, taking a long, dramatic pause. "Does it make me look fat?"
"Ha," Sam said. "I'm laughing here. It's hysterical. I think I actually might pee myself if I laugh any harder."
"Not on the upholstery," Dean said in horror. He continued laughing. "Although I do have to admit, the mall Santas always creeped me out, too. Going to sit on a weird old man's lap and tell him your deepest, darkest desires. Even little tough guy Mikey has to admit he wants a Barbie doll to a mall Santa. They have that creepy power over you. They're going to take over the world, right alongside Snuggle the fabric softener teddy bear and his evil dust bunny minions." Even Sam had to laugh at that one.
"What's the weirdest thing you ever asked for?" Sam asked Dean.
"A rifle, I think," Dean replied.
"That's not weird," Sam said.
"It is when you don't have all your teeth in and haven't even hit puberty. I just happened to be five years old."
"Okay then," Sam said, smiling.
"What about you?" Dean asked.
"Not exactly sure." Sam looked perplexed. "Oh!" He remembered something. "Remember when I went through the whole 'I'm a Superhero' phase?"
Dean laughed and nodded. "I asked for a cape so I could fly. I remember getting one and jumping off of the bunk bed we had," Sam said. "Now that was a merry Christmas."
"You always were a messed up kid. The scary thing was that you actually had hit puberty at that point—ow!" Sam had elbowed him. "Do not hit the driver unless you want to get hit by another semi and have to eat hospital food on Christmas along with me trying to smother you with a pillow for wrecking my car again, Mr. I Just Got My License.'"
"I was not that old when I asked for the cape."
"Dude, you were already four inches taller than me."
"I was eleven."
"Oh, and an eleven year old being taller than his fifteen year old brother and asking for a cape so he could rid the world of evil is so normal."
"Our Christmases have never been normal."
"We've never been normal. We have never even had a decent Christmas, have we?" Dean wondered out loud.
"I liked the Christmas where Dad dressed up as Santa, though." Sam said, laughing
"You mean the one where the beard fell off?" Dean asked.
"Yeha, and you screamed like a little girl."
"I did not," Dean protested.
"Sure, right, you hadn't hit puberty yet, your voice was just that high," Sam said.
"That's something I never thought Dad of all people would do," Dean said.
"It was kinda scary," Sam admitted, "judging by the fact that it was just a red shirt and cotton balls glued together and he woke you up with a really loud 'ho ho ho' that sounded more like a dying bird/evil witch cackle."
"How do you even remember that, anyway?" Dean asked incredulously. "You were, what, five, six years old?"
"Of course I remembered," Sam said mockingly. "I am the younger sibling. Amongst all the pranks you pulled on me I had to find one thing to latch onto for future reference to throw back at you in times like these. It's the baby brother defense method. I learned it at a club meeting."
"Oh, Sam, you do have a sense of humour," Dean said, with a fake teary voice. "I'm so proud I think I might cry."
"Funny," Sam said.
"Hey, remember when we found that old Christmas tape of mom and dad and me? Why didn't I like that tape again? I remember breaking it..."
"Because you got a teddy bear and ended up sobbing into dad's arms saying it scared you."
"Oh yeha." Dean said, his voice dropping again. "That thing was evil, you have to admit."
"Was that a Snuggles bear?" Sam asked suddenly.
"No," Dean scoffed. "The Snuggles bear came later, when dad thought it would be funny to traumatize me more."
"How old were you when he bought you the bear? Sixteen?" Sam asked.
"I think so, why?"
"A sixteen year old crying over a teddy bear..."
"I did not cry!" Dean persisted, his face flushing.
"I think I still have the pictures." Sam smiled, looking quite evil.
"Why, Sam, that is low," Dean said, narrowing his eyes. "Blackmailing, backstabbing, scheming." He shook his head. "You really are my brother."
"Yes, except I don't wage a personal vendetta against a bear that appears in commercials skipping through flowers."
"You see, that's it's power over you talking."
"It's cute, Dean."
"No, it is not!"
"Well, I know what I'm getting you this year."
"You wouldn't."
"It'll be a better Christmas present than we gave our neighbors."
"Oh, yeah, didn't we egg their house?"
"Correction: You egged their house."
"And their cars."
"Yeah, that wasn't too smart," Sam said.
"I was seventeen. Ah, my first night in jail. How was I supposed to know he was having a house party and his best friend was a cop," Dean said.
"Dad was so mad!" Sam said, cracking up.
"I don't know," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'd like to think the red color of his face was him getting into the spirit. It's not Christmas without one person in the family almost having a heart attack. He was stepping up to the task."
"Remember the year we met dad's friend Robbie?" Sam asked.
"Uncle Robbie, he made us call him, remember," Dean said in disgust. "Didn't we dye his dog green or something?"
"Yeah, we did." Sam said, laughing. "Poor dog was never the same after that."
"Sniffes needed some color in her life, anyway," Dean said.
"We weren't Uncle Robbie's favorite nephews, were we?"
"Well, we weren't exactly raking in the cash at birthdays, so not really. But after he had that heart attack we didn't have to worry much did we?"
Sam gave Dean a disapproving look. "True, I guess," Sam said. They pulled the car into the mall parking lot and got out amongst other mall going, last minute Christmas shopping, people who were still stuck in the frenzy and went inside.
"Did somebody actually get trampled over there? Dean asked curiously as he watched a bunch of people mobbing to get at a new sale.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Sam said.
Dean walked by the Mall Santa display. A young boy was seated on Santa's lap.
"Now what's your name little boy?" Santa asked.
"Mikey," the kid said, crossing his arms. He was pouting and looking like he thought this was all really stupid.
"And what do you want for Christmas, Mikey?" Mikey looked around furtively, and then leaned in to whisper something in Santa's ear.
"A Barbie?" Santa asked.
"See, I told you" Dean said, walking past the display towards the food court. "The guy can weasel it out of everybody."
"Sam? Dean?" They spun around as they heard their names. The two elves had called them and as they came closer, Dean realized who they were.
"Harry and Ed?" Dean asked, and they nodded.
Sam looked at Dean and they both collapsed into a fit of laughter.