Author Note: Based off a prompt on Tumblr. It's about time someone kicked off the Christmas spirit around here! I had a blast writing this and hope you all enjoy reading it xx

The wreath was what first caught his attention.

Castiel stopped and stared at it for a good ten seconds before casting a glance over his shoulder at the empty street, wondering if this was some sort of joke. It was still there when he turned back around, hanging on the front door in all its yuletide glory and topped off with a festive bow. Slowly, cautiously, Cas reached out a hand to touch it, noting that it was indeed very real. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the wreath for a moment longer before deciding that it had probably been the doing of some over-eager neighbour.

He unlocked the door, brushing leaves from his hair as he stepped inside. And then came to an abrupt halt.

Because tinsel was looped around the bannisters of the staircase, and fairy lights were strung up along the walls, and the opening notes of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' were playing softly in the background. And all of this had definitely not been here when he left that morning.

"Oh good, you're home."

He jerked his head to the right. Dean was sitting on the living room couch in front of a very large artificial Christmas tree, a plate of mince pies balanced in one hand. Castiel felt as though he had walked straight into the middle of a very bizarre dream.

"Dean, what–"

"I got off work a little early, so I thought I'd start decorating."

Cas took a few uncertain steps towards the couch, glancing around their utterly bedecked house in stunned disbelief. Dean grinned widely, offering him the plate. It was only then that Castiel noticed the aroma lingering in the air. The whole place smelled vaguely of melted butter, warm and welcoming, and distinctly of home.

"Did you bake all of these?"

"Yeah." Dean shrugged, snagging a perfectly-shaped pastry and biting into it. "I mean, they're technically still pies, right?"

Castiel stared at him, wondering if he was suffering some sort of psychotic break. Maybe this was all part of an elaborate coping mechanism.

"It's not completely finished yet; there're still presents to wrap and all that–"

"Dean."

"–and Sam's coming over soon to help with decorating the tree…"

"Dean," Cas said, more forcefully, and Dean finally looked up.

"What?"

"It's…" Cas spoke very softly, as one would when addressing a frightened animal, "it's November first."

Dean looked at him for a few moments, then rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Cas, I'm aware of that."

Castiel frowned, still not certain that he fully grasped the situation. "Christmas isn't for another seven weeks."

"So Santa came a little early this year." Dean shrugged.

"Halloween was yesterday," Cas clarified, wondering how many different ways he could outline this point before he'd have to hit Dean over the head with it.

Sighing, Dean set the plate down on the coffee table. "I know."

"Then why…" Castiel trailed off, not sure exactly how to phrase the question. 'Why are you acting like Santa Claus on crack?' seemed inappropriate.

"I just–" Dean started, then stopped, taking in a breath before speaking again, "–me and Sam didn't get many Christmases when we were younger; our dad wasn't into festivities, you know? And you told me your family didn't really celebrate it either, so I wanted to make this year special. The Christmas that we never had."

"But don't you think it's a little…early?"

Shaking his head, Dean huffed a weak laugh. "My philosophy was that it's never too soon to celebrate, but I guess I went kind of overboard with the Christmas spirit, huh?"

"Well…" was all Cas could think to say.

"You hate it." Dean's brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down. All the enthusiasm that had shone in his eyes just seconds before was gone, snuffed out like the flame of a candle.

Suddenly Cas felt incredibly guilty for saying anything at all. Of course Dean would be excited. It was their first year in the new house instead of their old cramped apartment, and he had been talking about this holiday since the Fourth of July, practically. Then Cas had gone and crushed all of Dean's hopes, belittled his efforts. Much like the proverbial Grinch, he'd ruined Christmas before it had a chance to even begin.

He sat beside Dean on the couch. "I'm sorry for seeming so unenthusiastic. It took me by surprise, that's all."

"It's okay," Dean said stiffly, "We can take all this stuff down and decorate another time."

"No." Cas reached for Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's great, Dean. It's amazing, actually."

Dean quirked up an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Positive."

A smile tugged at the side of Dean's mouth. His eyes came to rest on Cas, the tenderness in their green depths causing his heart to skip a beat in his chest. Castiel suspected that Dean would never cease to have that effect on him.

The sound of the front door opening made them both look up. Sam shouldered his way inside, hefting a cardboard box overflowing with baubles and muttering about how it was '…still freaking November, Jesus'. A pair of reindeer antlers were balanced precariously on his head.

"Here's your stupid decorations," he said, in lieu of a greeting.

Dean only grinned. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes, walking towards them.

A stray bauble toppled over the top of the box and onto the hardwood floor, and he narrowly avoided tripping over it. Swearing under his breath, Sam dropped the box with a thump. He dug his hands into his coat pockets, fishing out two Santa Claus hats and slapping them onto Cas and Dean's heads as he passed. "Happy Holidays, you losers."

He walked over to the stereo, cranking up the volume so that the music – now a jaunty rendition of 'Holly Jolly Christmas' – blared out over the room.

Dean was smiling, his Santa hat comically lopsided. Cas reached over to straighten it, brushing his hair back as he did.

"Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Hmm…" his hands slid around the back of Cas' neck, pulling him in for a kiss, and then another, and another. For a few glorious moments the entire universe was nothing but the softness of Dean's lips and the warmth of his touch.

Then Sam cleared his throat loudly behind them.

Dean let out a laugh, but his lips lingered, whispering four words before he pulled away, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Winchester."