A/N: Obviously the 'one every day' thing was theory. There are some setbacks to this, because I'm using a desktop that isn't always convenient for me. But I'll try get back on course, and get caught up.

Thank you everyone who has been reading. Reminds me why I love writing in the first place.

Warnings: Fluff. Insane fluff. Mild language. Randomness.

On the second day of Christmas, Team Free Will gave to me...

The house had finally gotten decorated- after Dean caught Sam and tied him up with the strand of Christmas lights and left him in one of the rundown trucks out back- and even the older Winchester admitted that it didn't look too bad. Of course, that was only after he took down the mistletoe and tossed it.

The rest of the evening had been spent with Bobby and Sam arguing whether they should get a real fir tree or a fake one ("I don't want pine needles all over my home, boy.") while playing cards. It was late when they finally called it a night, none of the group noticing what was going on outside.

"What in the hell do you two think you're doin'?"

Sam was doubled over in tears and tried to compose himself; Dean, who had finally stopped yelling profanities, stopped twitching and jumping around the spare room. Bobby and Castiel were in the doorway, the hunter with his shotgun and the former angel with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Neither looked impressed or amused, looking between the two Winchesters.

"Well?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked pointedly at Sam.

"Gigantor over there decided it'd be funny to stick fricking snow down the back of my shirt." Dean got out through clenched teeth, glaring at Sammy, who only shrugged.

"You tied me up and left me outside," was the argument he made in his defence.

"You told Cas to kiss me!"

"You were under the mistletoe! What, did you want me kiss you instead?"

The argument ended with a sharp whistle, bringing the boys' attention back to Bobby. "If you idjits want to act like a bunch of little kids, take it outside. Last thing I want or need is for you two to destroy half my house with your stupidity."

Dean smirked and looked over at Sam. By the way he was also grinning, he knew that they were on the same page.

This only meant one thing...

Castiel trudged after Dean in the snow, mildly grateful that the hunter had managed to persuade him into warmer clothing. He had seen snow and been in snow multitudes of times before, but only ever as an angel. Then, he had never known that it was cold or wet. Not like now, when he felt. Maybe the work boots weren't the right size, and the jeans were slightly worn in places, but he had to believe they were still better protection against the cold than his suit.

The gloves and toque were nice as well.

"This... snowball war... between your brother and yourself is meant to kill the other?" he asked Dean, still unclear as to how snow down one's shirt was enough to want to murder family.

Dean stopped walking and faced him, chuckling. "No, Cas. It's a way to blow off some steam. Have some fun."

"But war brings death."

"Usually. But snow can't really kill you." Dean bent down, gathering a handful and shaping it into a ball. "It's just war because someone eventually gives up."

"And we are against Sam." It came out as a statement rather than a question, but Dean still nodded, tossing him the snowball.

"Yeah. Whenever you see him, just throw one of these at him."

This time, Cas nodded his head, understanding that this was a game and not the two trying to kill each other. Dean started walking again, Castiel following behind him until they were away from the salvage yard. There were still a few rusted cars, but it wasn't like the rows and stacks of the actual yard. It was more like these cars had just fallen and landed in the very spot and were never moved.

The duo crouched behind one such car, both the doors from the front missing. Immediately, Dean busied himself with making the ammo and instructed his partner to make a neat little pile. Obediently, Castiel did as he was told, but was concentrating more on Dean's hands than his work. It was a curiosity, and he decided that he wanted to try to make a snowball.

'It seems simple enough.' he thought, scooping up snow in both hands and pressing them together. 'It is not like I am rebuilding a human.'

When he pulled a hand away from the other, he frowned slightly. The snow wasn't round like it should have been, and there were large clumps stuck to the glove he had pulled away.

Castiel looked up to find green eyes looking at him, amusement clearly present. "Need some help there?"

Cas scowled. "I am an angel of the Lord, Dean. We do not make balls of snow."

"Yeah, well, you're on Team Dean, and Team Dean always wins snowball wars." And ignoring his own rule concerning personal space, Dean covered Cas' with his own and helped guide them into forming a ball.

The former angel could feel heat rising in his face, particularly his cheeks. After the incident with the mistletoe, he had thought that Dean would be moody and surly around him. Yet Dean had been the one to suggest that they be a team, and now was physically instructing him on how to form snowballs. It was a pleasant feeling, though he didn't quite understand why he should be feeling so warm when it was rather chilly out.

And then there was a fwump to the back of his head that snapped him back to the present.

"Do the lovers need more alone time?" Sam called mockingly from behind them, and Castiel could see the small collection in his arms while he tossed one playfully up and down.

This time, the hit was on Dean and hit him square in the chest.

And the war was on.

Dean was nowhere near ready to give up. The fight had been going on for nearly an hour as best he could tell, and while he had gotten almost as much as he had given, it wasn't enough for him to surrender. But one look at his comrade wrote another story. Castiel had taken most of the abuse with his being the least experience, which included snow down the jacket and the shirt. And the more Dean watched, he could see hands trembling and shivers becoming more frequent.

So he had consciously steered them closer to the junk yard, finding them more shelter and hopefully some time before the next round of attacks. They stopped, huddling near the garage, the house within sight.

"Wh-what is the pl-lan?" Cas stuttered as another shiver ripped through him.

Dean gave a small smile, suppressing his own shudder. "You are gonna go inside, get warm and ask Bobby for coffee or something hot to drink."

"But the w-war-"

"You're obviously cold, Cas. Your lips are practically blue." Cas was about to deny it, but Dean knew he would and stopped him before he even started. "Just go. Get warm. I'll go tackle Sammy, shove some snow in his face and win this for us. But it isn't happening if I'm worrying about you out here, freezing."

Cas looked like he was about to say something, opening his mouth and then closing it. His eyebrows drew close together before he tilted his head, something flickering across those too blue eyes. "You a-are worried?"

Dean sighed, exasperated. "You're not your nerdy angel self anymore. Of course I'm gonna worry about you in the cold like this. Now, would you get inside before I make you?"

And for a minute, Dean thought he would have to throw his angel- their ex-angel-now-human, he mentally corrected himself- over his shoulder and bring him in that way. But then Cas slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"Alright, I will go."

Dean grinned triumphantly, shoving his companion towards the door. "Awesome. And find yourself some warm pyjamas. It'll help."

He watched to make sure Castiel actually listened to him before turning back towards the field, only to find Sam smirking at him several yards away.

"Two chick-flick moments in one day, Dean?" he asked, a hint of laughter in his tone. "Or should I call you Deanna?"

And that was enough to get Dean chasing after him, threatening to make him eat yellow snow for that comment.

...two chick flick moments, and a kiss under mistletoe.