Poyo

"Hi, baby." You speak softly to Sam as you enter the kitchen of your apartment. At the sight of him standing with his back facing the door, his body standing still as he looks through the fridge, you take the opportunity to come up behind him. Gently, you give him a little smack on the rear, letting out a small chuckle. It isn't uncommon for you to do that when he's least expecting it, and somehow, that never makes him expect it. He's still caught off guard every time, and it shows by the way he jumps a little bit.

He turns his head back, giving you a scolding look. It's a soft one, however. One that says he doesn't really mind. At least, not as much as his pride lets on. "You know I hate when you do that," he comments in return. However, the red tint that coats his cheeks says otherwise. It isn't often that he blushes, but when you do suggestive things like that without warning, it manages to make it happen. His teeth dig into his bottom lip for a moment before his tongue swishes over his lips like it always does when he's flustered.

"Mm.. sorry. I just can't help myself. You have a nice ass." You shoot back, smirking a bit as you come further into the room and set the few things you had just bought down on the counter. He clears his throat at your remark, his gaze quickly shifting back to the fridge in embarrassment. It isn't helping that he's dressed for comfort, something you always loved. He can remember more than one occasion where you had given him extra special attention because he was wearing a hoodie. If it is a bit oversized, like the one he is currently wearing, you tend to start spoiling him. He isn't sure what causes it. Maybe it's the fact that it makes him look smaller.

"Yeah, yeah. But when I do it, I'm being inappropriate." He scoffs to himself, rolling his eyes a bit at the double standard. Your telling him it's inappropriate is about the same as his saying he hates it. Neither of you mean it. Ass-smacking is basically a love language between the two of you at this point. Of course, your friends always get a kick out of it, mostly because they assume it's something that has escaped the bedroom. Sam always finds that amusing because they couldn't be further from the truth.

You begin to shuffle through the bag of stuff, reaching inside to grab out the plastic container that you had brought him. The last place you two went for lunch didn't have salad, and he had been pretty bummed about it. So you shake the container, trying to get his attention. "I got you salad; I found somewhere that had it." You comment quietly as you set it off to the side for him to grab.

Suddenly, almost like a dog, his features light up, and his head spins back quickly. He quickly abandons his mission to find something in the fridge. Instead, he scurries up to your side, glancing down at the plastic container. He smiles to himself, clearly pleased. Then he glances up at you, taking a moment to glance over your features as you continue to pull out some more stuff. You quickly placed a pack of pencils and a bottle of his favorite smoothie that you had managed to snag. Alongside that, you sneak the pack of cookies you had gotten for him into the pile. He isn't always one for sweets, but cookies are an exception.

His heart swells a bit in his chest as he glances over the stuff you've grabbed for him. In all twenty of his years, he had never felt so treasured. Sure, Dean did a lot for him. He was sure that Dean loved him. But at the same time, Dean is his older brother. He's obligated to care for him, isn't he? You, this perfect person in his life, were choosing to do so. And you chose to do so every day. He was beginning to get spoiled. "God, you are so perfect." He gushes softly, coming a bit closer to you and staring down at you intently like he's waiting for something. You know what it is; he wants attention. He wants a kiss.

"Aw, you want kisses. Aren't you going to ask first?" You tease him, giving him a little grin. Suddenly, his nose scrunches, and his face glances away. He hates when you do that. He hates it when you call them "kisses" and tell him to ask. It feels too soft for his liking. He's a grown man. It's humiliating to ask for "kisses." But he can't lie to himself; he really does want kisses. He had missed you all day.

So, he gives you his puppy dog eyes and gently rests his hands on your hips. It's clear that he's trying his hardest to charm you. "C'mon, don't make me say it." He begs quietly, leaning his face in a bit to be right near yours. At this point, you can feel his breath on your face. "Can't you just let me off the hook this one time?" He whispers like he's telling you a secret, and you can't lie; it sends some shivers down your spine. He's good at that. There is no man who can give you goosebumps like Sam can. But all the same, there is no one who can get him to give in like you can.

You shake your head, smirking at him once more. You definitely aren't going to let him off the hook this time. If anything, that little puppy look makes you want to hear it more. You wanna hear him ask for kisses. Maybe it wasn't the most mature thing in the world, but it was your simple pleasure. There was something very satisfying about hearing him beg for kisses. "Just say it. There's no one else here. You just gotta tell me if you want kisses on your lips, on your cheeks, on your forehead, or all of the above."

He lets out an annoyed grunt. He's being stupid to think that you would ever let him off the hook, and he knows that. Deep down, it doesn't really bother him to ask for such a thing. But any time he goes to open his mouth, all he can think about is his older brother teasing him for how girly he sounds. It's a bit nerve-racking. He feels like he's supposed to be the one telling you to ask him for kisses, but he knows that he won't get what he wants if he doesn't give in. He takes a moment to grit his teeth, his jaw tightening in the way that it always does. His eyebrows furrow for a moment before he finally gives in. And in the smallest and quietest voice he can muster, he whispers. "Kisses everywhere, please. I want.. kisses."

He feels ridiculous. However, he doesn't feel that way for long. Before he can fall too deep into his pit of embarrassment, he feels your lips press against his. They linger for a few moments before shifting to his cheek. Then, they shift to his forehead. Then his nose, then his jaw, then his mole, then his temple, and it just keeps going. By the fifth kiss on his nose, he tilts his head up, snagging your lips with his lips again. But this time, he makes sure the kiss is deep. In a haze of love and a desire to be close to you, his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. It's a long while of smooching, both with and without tongue, before he decides that this isn't enough for him anymore.

He takes a moment to collect himself and prepare before he uses his arms underneath yours to hoist you up. He makes sure your legs wrap around his waist, and he uses all of his strength to keep you up as he continues to nip and kiss at your lips. And when you dare to pull away for air and ask what he's doing, his lips connect with your jaw. He doesn't hesitate for a moment to trail them down your neck, nipping at that, too. He had definitely missed you today.

Your response is to giggle, bringing your hands up to run gently through his hair as he goes wild on your neck. This isn't an uncommon occurrence. You never would've guessed when the two of you began dating, but the truth was, he was a bit of a lovebug. He constantly wants your attention, and he constantly wants to do things together. If it were up to him, you would join him for every lecture he has, and you would sit on his lap the whole time, even though he's always a bit hesitant about PDA. But his loving attitude wasn't the only surprise. You had learned pretty quickly that he wasn't as "good-boyish" as he came off. Deep down, he was no better than his brother, whom he had told you stories of. He's practically insatiable when it comes to physical intimacy. You're alright with that, though.

"You haven't eaten your salad, y'know." You comment, your teeth biting at your lip as he continues to love up on your neck. It's meant to be a teasing little quip, but at this point, you're having a hard time ignoring how good his lips feel on your skin. He's winning, and he knows it because he doesn't even bother to stop before he answers.

"Don't care." He responds quietly against the skin of your neck before raising his head back up to be level with yours. He thinks it over for a moment, and he really doesn't want to waste your kind gesture. His solution is to use one of his hands to pick up the salad, carrying both it and you over to the fridge, before putting it safely inside. Now, he could just eat it later. He's free to do whatever he wants. When his hand returns to you, it lingers on your back, and he begins to walk towards the bedroom without a care in the world.

You turn your head back for a moment to glance at where you're going, letting out another amused laugh as you see that he's heading for the bedroom. Of course. One kind gesture, and he's ready to go for a round. As amusing as it was, that's your Sam, and you love it about him. He's very affectionate, and it makes your own heart swell in response to his. You glance back at him again, smiling sweetly, as you two manage to make it into the bedroom. "Sammy, you've got a lecture early tomorrow."

He tilts his head a bit, as if amused by your words. He's trying to understand how long you think this is going to take. Because of how much he's missed you today, he's not going to last that long. His footsteps don't stop at the door; instead, he opts to walk the whole way to the bed so that he can put you down himself. "Don't worry about it. I'll be on time." He reassures you, setting you down on the bed before immediately crawling over top of you. Just like it always does, his hand comes down to grab your cheek, his lips smashing into yours once more as he tries to enjoy the moment. The last thing he wants to think about is his early lecture. "Just tell me yes or no, okay?" He whispers softly against your lips.

That was your Sammy, too. Always so thoughtful about whether or not you were down for his plans. He always gives you the choice to back out. It means the world to you. So, with a big grin, you return his kiss for a few moments. What was the harm in having a little fun before dinner? After all, the two of you can eat and then pass out afterwards. You give him a swift nod, having come to your conclusion.

"Hey there," you taunt the man in front of you with a silly smirk, reaching your arms around his waist to hold him closer to you.

With a sudden jump, your boyfriend pulls back, letting out a loud sigh of relief upon seeing your face. He says your name in a scolding whisper, giving you that typical furrow of his eyebrows. And yet, his face softens at the sight of you. "You can't just--"

"I know, I know, you're not supposed to stay awake to catch Santa. I'm sorry. Am I still on the nice list?" You continue to tease. Your arms only pull him closer, refusing to let up. Your face presses into his shoulder, resting your nose against the flannel covering his torso. Your eyes peer past him, watching as he continues to put present after present under the tree.

He rolls his eyes, continuing his assigned task of making sure that Jack gets all of their gifts. You hadn't been able to get a lot, but there was enough. Jack would be thankful, no matter what. Unluckily, Sam got stuck with the duty of playing Santa this year. Dean had already planned to take Cas out for the night, and of course, Jack couldn't put their own gifts under the tree. "Assuming you've ever been on the nice list, definitely not."

"Hey, I'm on the nice list every year. I have to be. It's my reward for taking care of you." You taunt, bringing your hand up to playfully grab his jaw, shaking his head back and forth a bit. You watch as he stands up, straightening out his back with an "oof" sound. The poor man was so tall that he had to bend at quite an angle to get to the bottom of the tree. "Are you sure you don't want my help?" you ask, trying to stay quiet so that Jack can't possibly hear you. The bunker had thick walls, but angels had impressive hearing.

He nods, sending a little smile your way. He was thankful for a partner who always asked stuff like that. No matter what his job was, you were by his side, offering to help. It made things a little easier, but this was a job he could handle on his own. At least, he's pretty sure. "Yeah, it's fine. This shouldn't take much longer. I only have a few left, and then I have to fill their stocking or whatever."

"Did you get me anything?" you ask jokingly, flashing him playful puppy dog eyes. You definitely don't expect anything from Sam. After all, the two of you didn't exactly have jobs. Of course, there were the stolen credit cards, but he always had issues using them for things that you don't particularly need. One, because it risks you guys getting caught. Two, because he still has some moral qualms about stealing other people's hard-earned cash. He may be a hustler, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

"Yeah, I'm doing the heavy lifting," he replies with a chuckle. After placing another present under the tree, he spins back towards you. He pauses for a moment, just letting his eyes scan over your form. They take in your face, appreciating the sight in front of him. You were cold. You had to be cold. Your nose was slightly red, which was always a telltale sign. "You should go back to bed. You know Jack's gonna wake us up at like five o'clock in the morning."

"I know; I just couldn't sleep. I haven't been able to sleep on Christmas si-"

"Since you were a kid, I know." He comes closer, resting his hands on your arms, before pressing a soft and swift kiss to your lips. He allows it to linger for a moment, just enjoying your presence. After all, wasn't that what Christmas was all about? Every child got sick of hearing that "Christmas is about being with the ones you love" crap. Yet, the truth was, Sam ate it up every time. Dean could put a bow on your head and stick you under the tree, and Sam would consider it the most important gift in the world.

"Was that my gift?" You taunt as the two of you pull away, your mouth quirking into an involuntary grin. Your hand comes up to shield your cheek, noting the warmth coming from it. There was no doubt that they had reddened at his display of affection.

That's something he enjoys immensely. You still blush when he kisses you. He hopes that you never stop blushing in his presence. "If you don't stop, I'll return it."

"Okay, okay! Santa's touchy this year, huh?" He rolls his eyes again, prompting you to lean in to kiss him once more. When the two of you pull back yet again, you smile softly. "I'll head to bed now. Goodnight, Santa baby," you mock. Not only were you mocking his position as Santa, but Santa Baby had always been one of his least favorite Christmas songs. He couldn't help it. It felt cheesy and uncomfortable for him.

"Goodnight, brat." You let that be the end, choosing not to start a playfight. You don't want to risk waking Jack. So, you spin on your heel, beginning the walk back to your room. Certainly, you would be able to sleep now. And hopefully, he would join you in bed once he was done. But before you could get too far, he quietly called out your name to get your attention. Your head turns to look at him, your hand gripping the edge of the bunker wall for a moment. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas, my love," you reply with a soft grin, giving him a bit of a wave before returning to your room.

The two of you were correct. The next morning, like clockwork, Jack was in your room, shaking you awake. You peek at your alarm, immediately noticing that it was ten past five. With a tired but loving smile, you stare up at the child in front of you. "Couldn't wait this year, huh, kiddo?"

They glare down at you, not an indication of kindness on their face. "Yeah." Then, without another word, they get up and leave your room. They don't even wait for you to join them. You were startled, immediately sitting up in bed to make sure that you were completely awake and had seen that correctly. They never treated you like that. And when they would wake you up, they would wait for you to join them. You wasted no time in getting up, following Jack out of the room, and down to the main entrance, where the Christmas tree was placed. You have to jog a bit to keep up with them, but you manage.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?" You ask, testing the waters to see how peeved they truly are. You hoped it was something simple, like maybe you had accidentally eaten the last bowl of their favorite cereal. The last thing you want is to cause a problem for them on their second Christmas in the bunker.

"No, I slept perfectly fine. Did you?" they ask with a hint of snark at the end of their sentence. Their eyes shoot to the side to glare at you once more, their eyebrows raising in an almost accusatory way.

Now you were lost and, honestly, a bit offended. With a look of surprise and a tinge of hurt, you respond softly. "I-- yes-- I slept fine. Jack, what's going on?" However, your questions didn't last long. You were cut off by the sound of Dean slamming his hands on the main map table. When the hell did he get in the room?

"Enough chatting! We've got business to attend to!" He cheers with boyish enthusiasm. He was almost more excited than Jack, which only served to worry you further. But you don't want to make a scene in front of the entire group. What if it's personal? What if you had done something to upset them?

"Before your coffee?" Castiel asks as he approaches the seat beside Dean, placing the mug in front of him at the table. You were certain that Dean had made that in the kitchen, gushing to Cas about Christmas, and then had completely forgotten to pick it up. Your theory was practically confirmed by his embarrassed look.

With a shy glance, he looks down at the cup and then back up at Cas. Then, to you and Jack: "Continue," you watch as he takes his seat, immediately reaching out for the cup. You're glad he's putting the presents on hold, as you want to get to the bottom of this behavior.

"Jack, what's going on? You seem upset with me." You turn to ask the kid. Just as you finish up your words, Sam enters the room, holding a small tray with three mugs. One was no doubt his own tea, but the other two were probably for you and Jack. Jack's was no doubt hot chocolate, and yours had to be your favorite. Your heart would be bursting at the sight if it weren't so weary of your friend's behavior.

"Yes, I don't want to speak to you. Or even really look at you. Sam told me to wake you up, or you would still be in your room." They snap quietly, watching as Sam sets the tray of drinks on the table beside Dean's. As they snap, they reach out to grab their own mug, wasting no time in pulling it closer to their body. It's almost a defensive action, as if they didn't trust you to be around their drink. Like they thought you would steal it or something. That was new.

You gasp, your eyes widening. You glance around at your friends, who are also confused and gaping with shock. Of course, the first to speak up was Cas himself. With a loud gasp, he speaks. "Jack!" It comes out in a scolding tone of voice. He hadn't wanted to use that tone with Jack today, but there was no choice. "That is no way to talk--"

"To who? An authority figure?" They quip back, tilting their head in an act of annoyance. Their eyes shift between you and Cas, then shyly shift down to their mug. It was almost as if they were embarrassed to have sassed their father in such a manner. You don't blame them. After all, they never snap at Cas. At least, not often. Not unless something is really wrong. Now you were more than concerned.

"No, to your family! That's no way to speak to your family! If something's wrong, you talk about it; you don't pick fights." Cas responds in a defeated voice. He's a bit lost as to what to do. He had never dealt with this as a parent before, at least not yet. He's lucky when it comes to Jack. They're typically a pretty good kid, a pretty respectful kid.

"Alright, fine," their gaze returns to you, turning stone cold. They take an angry sip of their hot chocolate, their eyes never leaving yours. Honestly, it's a bit intimidating. You never thought you would find Jack intimidating. "Let's talk about last night."

"What about last night?" You question in return. The other three members of the room could tell that you were lost beyond belief. What did you do last night? You had just gone to bed. Before that, you and Jack had made cookies. They seemed to enjoy it. After all, they were happy when they went to bed.

"Don't play stupid!" They bark, surprising all four of you.

"I'm not playing stupid, Jack. What are you talking about?" You refuse to raise your voice in the same manner. It was your job to set a good example for the kid. That meant staying rational, staying calm, and refusing to bicker. That's how families handle things, right?

"I couldn't sleep last night. I came out to get a drink, and that's when I heard you in here." They begin, trailing off for a moment. They give you a look, as if to say that you should be catching on now. And truthfully, you were. You definitely were.

Suddenly, you and Sam glance at each other. You knew exactly what they were talking about. They had caught you and Sam putting the gifts under the tree; they knew you had lied about Santa. With a small pout, you look back at them. "I'm sorry I lied, Jack. Really, I am, but I'm not the only one who did so. Besides, I didn't think this would be such a big deal to you. It's a normal human thing; I thought you would be-"

"Cheating on your boyfriend is a normal human thing?" As soon as the words left their mouth, they slammed their mug down on the table. A bit of hot chocolate splashes up, landing around the mug, but nobody pays any attention to that. After all, you're all too focused on what they just said.

"What?" You, Dean, and Sam all shout at once. Cas, who is now just dumbfounded, sits beside Dean in silence. He doesn't know whether to stand up and say something or to let you and Sam handle this. After all, he wasn't home last night. And Dean is thinking very similar things. Part of him wanted to stand up and ask you what the hell that meant, but that was the protective older brother in him. After all, how would you even get a stranger into the bunker?

You felt your blood boil upon hearing that sentence. Maybe it wasn't the most mature response, but if there was anything you took offense to, it was allegations like that. With newfound anger, you take your place in front of Jack, glaring down at the kid with your arms crossed over your chest. "You have a lot of nerve, Kline, accusing me of something so serious. I love you, kid, but you're pushing my buttons now. How dare you?"

"How dare I? You cheated on Sam, and I'm wrong to be angry about it? I thought we were family; why would you ever do that to him?" They asked again, their voice cracking a bit. It's clear now that they're not angry. Not really. They're upset. They genuinely think this to be true, and in their eyes, someone they thought they could trust had hurt one of the people they love most. They're not thinking with logic; they're thinking with emotion.

You can't blame them for that. After all, at this point, so are you. The moment the cheating accusation came out, all logic left your body. Now, you were a flurry of anger and hurt. How could anyone ever accuse you of that? Let alone Jack. "We are family! I love Sam more than anything! Why would I ever risk that by cheating? C'mon, you're being ridiculous. Do you really think I could ever cheat on him?"

"I wouldn't have thought so before, but I caught you!"

"Jack," Sam begins, coming closer. He rested his hand on their shoulder in a calming way, pulling them back a little bit from you. It was time for him to de-escalate. After all, if Jack is offended on his behalf, it's partially his job to clear your name. "I was out here last night. There was nobody here. How could she possibly cheat on me?"

"With Santa," they growl, glaring over at you with a look that you could only describe as that of a child who had just been given bad news and a huge stick. And in their eyes, you are the piñata.

They weren't expecting the sudden laughter that abrupted throughout the room, but you and Sam don't partake. You're stunned into silence. How do you even begin to explain this to the kid? You don't want to ruin their Christmas. "So," Dean began, ready to let the jokes fly. "You're telling us, in a way, you saw mommy kissing Santa Claus?"

"Dean!" you whine, turning to him with an angered look. This isn't funny! At least, not to you. The four of you had collectively decided to play along with the Santa lie. At least for a year. You all want Jack to have a single Christmas where they get to just be a kid. You want them to experience that human tradition.

But now, the four of you were stuck at a crossroads. You could either tell Jack the truth and ruin their Christmas, or you could let them believe their misunderstanding and ruin their Christmas. They catch onto the fact that something is wrong because they see the way you four are looking at each other. They don't like it. They feel like they're being left out. So, quietly, they speak up again. "Guys?"

With a sigh, Sam brings his hand up to his chin, running it along his stubble in an awkward manner for a moment before moving to stand in front of Jack. Still in that typical awkward manner, his hands come out to rest against their arms, giving them a sympathetic look. "Look, Jack, I understand why you're upset. You think that's what happened. And really, I'm grateful that you're angry on my behalf, but that's not the truth. She didn't do anything wrong. The man she kissed last night was me."

They seem confused for a moment, and their eyebrows twinge. They peek back at Cas and Dean before looking ahead at Sam. Then they let out a little chuckle. "What do you mean? But San-"

He flashes them that typical little look. The knowing one, the one that tells you everything you need to know. But just in case they didn't get the picture, he speaks again. "Santa isn't real, kiddo. It's a human tradition. Parents tell their kids the story and then give them presents pretending to be him. You usually find out it's not real as you get older. I'm sorry."

Their eyebrows are now raised, along with their widening eyes. You could tell that a large amount of feelings just ran through them. After all, it looked like they were going through the seven stages of grief. And before anyone can say anything else, they're storming away, rushing down the bunker hallway. "Jack!" Cas calls out after them, pushing himself up from the table.

However, Dean grabs the sleeve of his trench coat, tugging him closer. "Nope. You sit your ass back down, sunshine. This is their problem to fix." It sounds mean coming from him, but that's just the way he is. You know what he really means. Cas shouldn't be the one to talk to Jack this time, because sometimes the problems are ones that he can't fix. For once, they're going to have to depend on another one of their parents to come comfort them. So, all three of them look to you.

"Me?" You question in confusion, bringing your hands up to your chest in an almost defensive action. Why are you being picked for this? After all, the tension is highest between you and Jack right now. They don't want to speak to you. They don't even want to be near you. And truthfully, you're a little hesitant to be near them, too. You don't want to blow up on them.

"Yeah, you. You're the one they're angry at. It's time to be an adult." Dean responds, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you that scary big brother look that's typically reserved only for Sam. But it worked something fierce because before he can scold you any further, you're making your way down the hall and toward Jack's room.

You take a moment outside the door to awkwardly clear your throat before bringing your hand up and knocking at the wood. There's no response. So, you knock a bit louder, and this time you call out. "Jack? It's me. Can we talk? I promise not to get angry again." Your reassurance doesn't do much. Your pleas go unheard again. So, you keep knocking. You knock again, and again, and then again. "C'mon, kiddo, please? Don't let this ruin Christmas. Does it really matter who the gifts are from? They're still under the tre--"

Before you can speak any further, the door opens, and there they stand. They give you a hurt look, their cheeks stained with tears. Instantly, it makes you feel terrible. The lie isn't supposed to go this far. It was just meant to be a fun thing for the holidays. Most kids loved this, but maybe they just weren't most kids. You guys hadn't really taken that into account. Jack was sensitive and a lot more intelligent than you guys gave them credit for. "You really think this is still about the gifts? I ruined Christmas." They speak in anger, sniffling a bit as they bring the sleeves of their pajamas up to wipe at their eyes.

"What? No, no. No, you didn't ruin Christmas." Your voice is a lot softer now. It's almost a whisper as you try to come closer. You want nothing more than to comfort them at this point. Gifts, be damned. Christmas wasn't Christmas if your kids hurting. However, they move away from your arms, and the sight breaks your heart a little bit.

"Yes, I did. Don't baby me. I believed that stupid lie, and then I believed in it more than I believed in you. I accused you of cheating on Sam; how don't you hate me?" They ask, sniffling again as they sulk further into their room. Without warning, they flop down on their bed, burying their face in their hands for a moment. You can't tell if it's out of sadness or embarrassment, but that didn't matter.

"Because it was our fault. You only thought that because we lied, and I'm sorry we did. We should've just told you that Santa isn't real. We just wanted to give you a real Christmas. We wanted you to feel human for a day." You respond softly as you come closer to their bed. Reluctantly, you let yourself take a seat on the spot next to them. Your hand flinches for a moment as you slowly bring it up to their back, giving it a little pat.

"But.. I'm not human." They respond equally softly, peeking up at you in dismay. They're right. They aren't human. Of course, they're lost. They're still new to all of this. Of course, Jack wouldn't know to talk to you about the problem. In their eyes, everything is still black and white. If you lied to Sam and cheated on him, why wouldn't you lie to Jack, too? It made you feel awful.

"I know, kid. And I promise, that doesn't matter. Christmas isn't any different. We're still gonna go out there and open gifts. Dean is still gonna be way too excited about his. Cas is still gonna ask a bunch of really ridiculous questions. Sam is still gonna grumble about how you shouldn't eat so many cookies. And then we'll have dinner, and we'll do anything else you want. Okay?" To your surprise, they finally came out of hiding. And without warning, they fling themselves at you, practically tackling you with a bit of a hug. Their arms wrap around your torso, pulling you closer to them as they bury their face in the crook of your neck. And they hold you. They hold you like they're afraid of what's gonna happen once you leave their room.

"What if Sam's mad at me?" They whisper, gripping your shirt a little tighter at the idea of someone like Sam being angry with them. He didn't get truly angry at them often, but if there was one thing that could push him past that line, it was somebody upsetting you. They didn't want to face him right now.

So, you hold them tighter in return, resting your head on top of theirs. You squeeze them, shaking your head a bit. Though you felt terrible that this was how their Christmas began, you do enjoy holding them in your arms. You like getting to keep them safe. "I promise, he's not angry. And if he tries to be, I'll tell him that he doesn't have to get angry for me. It'll be okay. We all just want you to come out of your room."

They shake in your arms for a few moments before sniffling once more and then nodding their head slowly. When they pull away, they wipe at their eyes one final time before pushing themself up from the bed. It was odd to see Jack this way. They were an emotional kid, a loving one, but it wasn't often that they got so emotional that they would hug you like this. It makes you glad that Dean suggested that you talk to them. "Okay. I'm ready."

You nod your head. "Okay, come on." You speak softly, turning to walk towards their door. Just as you twist the doorknob and pull it open for them to walk out, they tell you to go ahead without them for a moment. They say that they have something to grab. You nod, giving them a thumbs up, before pushing up your sleeves and walking back out to the main room. Immediately, you're greeted by the sight of the other three adults sitting at the table. All three of them looked worried sick. Dean's arms were crossed over his chest, and his feet kicked up on the table. Cas's hands were brought up to his lips, folded in front of them, and his forehead creased in thought. And Sam was doing his typical eyebrow furrow, along with his signature biting at the nail on his thumb.

When he notices you, he quickly pushes himself up from the chair, coming around the table to greet you. "Hey, sweetheart. How'd it go?" He asks in a quiet voice, almost worried that Jack might hear him. His hand reaches for yours, taking it into his own. He had been yearning to hold your hand since you left to speak with them. He felt horrible about this whole thing. If anyone knew that you wouldn't cheat on Sam, it was Sam himself. He was the only one who knew the way you practically worshipped him behind closed doors.

You gladly accept his hand, giving it a little squeeze as you let out a breath of relief. You glance at all three of them before giving them an iffy smile. "I think it went okay. They said they had to grab something. So, I think they'll join us in a moment. If they don't, then, um.. it's Dean's turn."

"What? Why me?" Dean speaks up in a surprised and defiant tone. It's clear that he doesn't want to have to be the one to go get the kid if they somehow disappear.

"Because you offered me up the first time!" You argue back, sending him a look in the process.

However, just as the two of you are starting to bicker, Jack's familiar voice says your name from the opening of the hallway. With their hands behind their back, they come closer, peeking up at Sam in a nervous haze. Quietly, they speak. "Uh, I wanted to say that I am sorry, Sam." You can tell that they're anxious to be speaking to him like this, but maybe the "communication is important" lesson has finally stuck. "I shouldn't have gotten mad for you. I just really don't like the idea of anyone hurting you."

That earns a small smile from Sam, one that you knew all too well. That smile was his silent way of going "aw." It was a sign that he was flattered, and maybe a little flustered. Without words, he reaches out, wrapping his arms around Jack's neck and giving them a brief hug. "It's okay. But I don't think I'm the one you owe an apology to." He whispers before pulling away. He decides to give them a moment with you, retreating to the table with the other two. Sure, they could still hear you speak, but they wouldn't be directly involved.

Jack knew they had to apologize. Sam didn't need to tell them twice. It just took a bit of work to build up the courage. Now that they had it, they were ready. "I'm really sorry that I accused you of something like that. I should've talked to you about it first, or maybe I should've just had faith in you in the first place. But it really hurt me to think that you might do something like that, because.. I really don't wanna see you and Sam break up." They admit it quietly, their head tilting down a bit in a phase of embarrassment. They can't bring themselves to admit more than that. You, Sam, Dean, and Cas were all they had. They had come to recognize you four each as a pair of parental figures. You and Sam, and Dean and Cas. If two of you split up, it might only be a countdown until one of you leaves, or the other two split up, too.

"It's alright, Jack. I get it. I would've been upset, too." You reassure in the softest voice you can muster. You know that you don't need to make them feel any worse. Their guilt is evident on their face. They're young, and they made a mistake.

Suddenly, from behind their back, they pull out a small token of affection. Their hand reaches out, offering you what appears to be a small bouquet of a few flowers. Not real flowers, however. No, these were more angular. They were paper flowers. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, peeking from the flowers back up to Jack. Where had they gotten these? "I made these for you, for Christmas. Sam says that buying each other gifts with other people's money is weird, and I've noticed that some of the most important things to you guys are the stuff that other people have given you. Like Bobby's flask. I wanted to make something."

You take the flowers from their hands, examining them for a moment. They weren't perfectly made, but they were surprisingly good. And they were pretty colors. Your favorite colors, to be exact. It made your heart swell with joy. The idea of someone as powerful as Jack taking the time to do this for you just because you showed them a bit of kindness was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. "How-- how did you learn to make these?" You ask in an impressed voice. None of you knew how to do this, or at least none of you had taught them.

"Oh! The little girl, Paige, in our last case, showed me how. You know, while you guys were talking to her parents, I decided to ask her some stuff. She was making them and offered to show me how. It's kind of fun." They admit, bringing their hand up to scratch the back of their head. They're shy, but they're also all smiles, clearly a bit proud of their hard work. The other three probably had reactions of their own, but you didn't even notice. Your attention was too focused on Jack.

So, a gift that Jack had made you themself was taught to them by the little girl whose life you had saved. It was perfect. A perfect reminder of the wonderful friend you have and the little girl who got to sleep the next night because of your help. You set the flowers on the table before reaching out to pull them into a hug. They were getting a lot of hugs today, but that was hardly anything to complain about. They love hugs. "Thank you. It's perfect."

While the two of you hug for a few moments, you don't even notice Dean pushing himself up from the table. That is, until his voice rings out. "Now, are we ready to open presents? My coffee is done; it's almost seven in the morning, and we've still got dinner to start." He's right. You all had a big day ahead of you. It was best to start now. However, you still peek at Jack, as if asking for their opinion. They nod excitedly, moving past you to join the three others at the table.

You take a moment to peek over at them, just taking in the view as the four excitedly crowd around the tree. And although it hadn't started that well, this was probably shaping up to be the best Christmas yet. Grabbing the flowers off of the table, you rush to join them, feeling no shame in flopping down in Sam's lap as he sits on the floor. He lets out a bit of a grunt at the impact, his hand coming up to gently rest on your head. But that doesn't stop him from pecking at the side of your head and whispering to you. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

The last thing Sam knew was that he was in the passenger's side seat of the Impala. He had been stuck in between his mind's attempts at conjuring Bobby and Dean, listening to the two of them bicker as they tried to decide whether he should live or die. All he could think about was how badly he wished the two of them would shut up. He just wanted a moment of peace. A moment to think for himself, to decide what he wanted to do, and if it was going to be the correct decision. Everything felt like too much. Too much, too fast. No matter how much he told them to shut up, neither of them listened. Now, to Sam's surprise, the Impala was nowhere in sight. In fact, all he could see was a tree. Not just one tree, but many. It was some sort of forest. It had done a pretty darn good job of getting his mind off of the argument because now all he could think was-- Where was he?

"Hi, Sam." 

A quiet, soft voice speaks from behind him. He jumps, but recognizes the voice instantly. He spins quickly, his gaze immediately landing on you. Your image was practically perfect. That was to be expected; he had spent so many hours looking over every single one of your features. The sweet smile on your face was enough to make his worries melt almost instantly, aided by the fact that you were wearing one of his favorite outfits that you owned. He takes a moment to look you up and down, almost in a state of disbelief. "Of course you're here, too." He scoffs, not even realizing that he's being rude. The moment he catches it, he gives a shy chuckle as his hand comes up to brush back his hair. "No offense." 

You walk forward to his side, a laugh of your own escaping your lips. "Non-taken. I understand. Dean and Bobby really drove you up the wall, huh?" Your voice doesn't sound normal. It's definitely your voice, but he knows all too well that this isn't how you normally speak. No, this is how you speak to him. The sweet, comforting voice that you only use when the two of you are alone. When he needs your support or when you need him to know how special he is. He takes note of it as his eyebrows furrow.

"So, what part of me are you?" He asks, his head tilting a bit in a curious way.

You motion your head for him to follow as you start to walk down the path through the woods. You shake your head, letting out another small laugh. "I'm not part of you." You take a moment, rethinking what you said, before speaking again. "Well, technically I am, but not in the same way. I'm not here to tell you whether you should live or die." 

He takes a moment to glance you over again. His legs start following you the second that you start walking. It's not very hard, considering he has at least a couple of inches on you. If there was one thing long legs were good for, it was keeping up with the people around you. He looks down at you, a sigh of relief leaving him as he realizes that you aren't here to cloud his head with more judgment. "Then what are you here for?" 

"A rescue." You speak bluntly. You give him an amused shrug, continuing to lead him down the path. Your eyes stick to it, making note of the twigs and rocks on the ground. You step around them, making sure to alert Sam of any possible roadblocks. "I want to say that you brought me here just to include me. You know, since I have a huge fear of missing out." You joke lightly, giving him a little nudge in the side. However, your smile softens into something different. Something a bit more melancholy. "But truthfully, I think your brain knows that I'm your safe place. I mean, I've always been the one to calm you down after fights. I've been the one to comfort you after hunts, to tend to your wounds, and to give you advice. You were stressed about the fighting between Bobby and Dean, so your brain sent me to calm you down." 

"Well, it's definitely working." He comments with a small smile of his own. He nudges you back, almost flirtatiously.

"Are you flirting with your own brain?" 

"To be fair, I think I kind of need it right now." He sighs, pausing his walk for a moment. Then he turns to you. He seems confused, distraught, and lost. "I know you have opinions. So, what do you think I should do?" 

You shake your head, giving him a knowing smirk. "I'm not here to sway your opinions, Sammy; that's not my job."

"But I kind of need a tiebreaker right now. I'm at a crossroads, and the devil and angel on my shoulder weren't helping much back in the car." Slowly, his hand reaches out, just wanting a chance to touch you for a moment. It grabs onto your arm, and his eyebrows quirked in surprise when it actually worked. He gives it a squeeze. "Just tell me what to do, please. I can't decide this myself. I think that no matter what I do-- I'll regret it." He pulls you a little bit closer, staring down at you in the process. And he finds himself taking in your features again. He's done it a million times. He knows every square inch of skin on your face and on your body, but it doesn't deter him. He's still acting as if this is the first time he's seen you. "Please," he whispers.

You feel his hands slowly move to your waist. They wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible. He's practically hugging you now. In response, your own arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as well. "I can't offer you my opinion. I'm being genuine. Your brain knows that I'm neutral. That I care more about you than me. So, all I can give you are words of encouragement. Would you accept that instead?" 

He thinks it over for a moment as his hands slowly and softly run along your waist. It's as if it's instinct at this point, almost like a nervous fidget. He nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll accept anything at this point. I need some sort of comfort, advice, or anything before Bobby and Dean catch up with us." 

In an attempt to comfort the giant in front of you, your hands come down from around his neck. Instead, they come up to his face, grabbing it gently. Your thumbs graze against his cheeks as you hold him. Your eyes refuse to leave his eyes, and your smile only gets wider. "I understand why you're at a crossroads. I do. If you die, you leave behind the three people you care about most. You know that we would miss you, that we would be lost without you, and you feel some sort of guilt for that." Your eyes soften significantly as you speak, the melancholy returning to your stare. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. "But I understand why you want to give in as well. I can see it on your face, Sammy. You're tired. The God Trials left you so--" The sentence trails off, almost like it hurts to say it. "I saw what it did to you."

"You won't be mad at me if I go?" He asks in a quiet and small voice. He sounds hurt and worried, like he's desperate for your approval. "I can't hurt you. If you ask me to stay, I will. If you tell me to go, I will. Just tell me what to do. Please don't make me decide this on my own. I can't let you guys down." 

"No, I won't be mad at you. I promise. No matter what you choose to do, I love you. And I'm proud of you." Your arms re-wrap around his neck, pulling him closer for a hug. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, squeezing him tightly so that the only thing he feels is the pressure. Hoping that it's comforting, you press another small kiss to his neck. "I can't decide for you. I'm sorry. As flattered as I am that you care that much about me and trust my decision-making, this is your choice alone."

Just as he's about to reply, the two of you hear crunching in the leaves. That's when Bobby's familiar voice calls out, "Sam?" 

You let out a small, affectionate laugh. "That's your cue. It looks like our time in paradise is over."

"Don't go. Please." Sam pleads quietly, bringing his head down closer to yours. He rests his forehead against the top of your head, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. This was the most peaceful he had felt since starting the God Trials. "Can't we just stay here? Like this? Why do I have to decide?"

"Your coma can't last forever, Sammy." You remind him in an equally quiet tone, tilting your head up to rest your forehead against his in return. You sway softly with him in your arms, just taking the last few moments before Bobby finds you to remind him of how much you love him.

"Why not?" His voice is exasperated. His eyebrows furrowed again in a state of annoyance. What was stopping him from staying here? He couldn't decide, and a life with you in the woods didn't seem so bad. At least not compared to his typical life or spending an eternity in heaven or hell.

"You know why. You can't cheat time. You have to make a decision eventually. Either it's your time to go, or you need to find a way to return to me in the real world. Either way, we'll see each other again. I promise." To his surprise, your figure leans forward again, giving him another kiss. However, this time, it's right on the lips. It only lasts a few seconds; he doesn't even have time to close his eyes before you disappear right in front of him.

He glances around in confusion, letting out a gasp in the process. He calls out your name in the woods, but nothing replies. That is, until Bobby hears it and calls out his name in return. He ignores it, opting again to call out for you. That's when he realizes that you're gone. He has to return to Bobby now if he wants to get anywhere. Maybe you were right; time can't be cheated. He takes a moment to compose himself, bracing his mind for the overwhelming opinions that he's about to hear, before walking forward to meet Bobby.

A while later, in the real world, you find yourself pacing back and forth beside the bed. You knew you shouldn't have let Dean do this. You shouldn't have let him tell Ezekiel, yes, but it wasn't your call. At least, that's how you thought of it. Dean was older; he was Sam's big brother. It was his decision alone. You reminded him of how Sam would feel and how he would hate this plan. You knew, deep down, that this would come back to bite you. But when you look at the man across from you-- all you can see is the damage that losing his little brother has done to him. And you were sure that if you were to look in the mirror, you would notice the same damage. "Do you think it's working?" You ask Dean quietly, peeking over at him.

"I don't know. Just shut up. Don't say anything; we don't know when he'll come to," he grumbles back. He has a point. You shouldn't be speaking about the deal out loud; you know that, but part of you is just worried. Right as you're about to speak again, a sudden shift on the bed catches both of your attention. There was the little brother in question, sitting up straight, his back as stiff as a board.

You had been out running errands all day. Your feet were aching, and your legs were killing you. The second you got inside the bunker, all you could manage to do was set your bags down on the main room tables. You took a seat at one of the chairs as you let out a loud, defeated sigh. Then you started to remove your shoes.

"Sammy?" you called out, wondering if your boyfriend was anywhere nearby to help you with bags. However, you received no response. A huff escaped your lips as you took a few more seconds to relax in the chair. Then you continued on your quest to put stuff away. After an annoying trip to the kitchen and a few minutes spent putting stuff where it belonged, you found yourself finally walking towards your shared room. You walked inside, glancing around to see if you could find Sam. When you realized he was nowhere in sight yet again, you placed the rest of your bags on the bed. Your eyes lingered on the crib in the corner of the room, peering through the bars to see if your baby girl was still asleep. Quickly, you noticed the lack of a figure. You wasted no time standing up again and coming closer. You peered into the crib, noticing she was nowhere to be found. "Oh, God. Please, be with Sam," you murmured as you began to walk through the bunker. "Sam?" you would call out occasionally.

Finally, you stormed into the Dean cave. "Dean, where is-" but you weren't met with Dean. Instead, you were met with the sight of Sam curled up on his recliner, eyes shut, with your little bundle of joy snuggled up to his chest. You couldn't help but sigh in relief as you approached the recliner, peeking over the two of them for a moment as if to check if they were actually asleep. You chuckled softly, reaching down to try to grab the baby from his chest. The moment you started to shift her weight, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm. You jumped, letting out a loud gasp. That's when his eyes snapped open. They locked onto you, his brain seeming to go a mile a minute as he tried to register what he was looking at. "My God, Sam! You can't just do that!" you scolded quietly, feeling your heart pound in your ears.

Your boyfriend's response was a simple yawn, followed by a stretch of his arms and torso. He took a few moments to wake up before responding. "Sorry," he murmured. His eyes blinked a few times as they tried to adjust to the light in the room. "I just felt the baby moving."

"What are you guys doing in here, anyway? You know Dean's rules about the Dean Cave. No baby." 

He laughed quietly, gently wrapping his arms around the figure on his chest. "C'mon, Dean doesn't even follow that rule. She spends more time here than we do. My recliner is practically hers." You watched as his face nuzzled into the top of her hair, taking a few deep breaths. Then he pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. "She wouldn't stop crying." His hand came up to rub at his eye. "I think more of her teeth are coming in." He motioned his head to the TV as he let his eyes flutter shut once more. "Brought her in here to watch Scooby-Doo. It's all she wants to watch since Dean showed her that movie," he huffed quietly.

You can't help but smile softly at the sight. "Want me to take her now?" you ask quietly, glancing down at the sight of him snuggling closer.

He seems to think on it for a moment, and then ever so slightly, he shakes his head. "Mm-mm," he replies, denying your request. "Gotten used to the little jerk. Too comfy." 

A chuckle escapes your lips as you bend down beside the chair, resting your head on the armrest. "Are you sure?"

He nods slightly. "Mhm. Like the pressure on my chest." His words practically croak with how raspy his voice is. You can see his eyebrows twinge slightly as he starts to drift back to sleep.

"I think you're just turning into a softie," you reply teasingly, bringing your hand up to brush back part of his hair from his face.

"Not gonna do me any good," he replied to your gesture. His head motions down to the hairball on his chest. "Ever wake up to somebody else's hair in your mouth?"

"Yeah, I sleep with you all the time." Another laugh escapes you. "Who do you think she got it from?"

"Shut up," he groans.

You kneel there for a few moments, smiling at the two halves that make up your whole heart, before letting out a little sigh. "Why can't you guys ever cuddle on the bed? I can't join you when you're in this small chair."

A yawn leaves his lips as he shrugs tiredly, shifting his weight a bit. "Take it up with the boss."

You roll your eyes playfully, but you note the tiredness in his voice. "I'll let you get back to your nap, okay?" Your hand continues to stroke his hair for a moment. You lean over, pressing a little kiss to his hairline. You see his mouth twitch into a small grin. Then, you press a soft little kiss to your baby's head, allowing it to linger for a moment. Finally, after giving them both a sign of your love, you reach for the throw blanket that Dean keeps in the cave for her. Gently and carefully, you bring it up, placing it over the pair of dreamers on the recliner.

He lets out another yawn, his grin getting a little wider. "Thanks, sweetheart," he whispers.

It all started one day at a small diner in Michigan. Dean had just finished paying for your dinner, and when the waitress asked if you wanted a receipt, you quickly answered yes. Both boys glanced at you in confusion but didn't bother to question you on it. She quickly brought back Dean's credit card and your receipt. As the boys finished up their meals, cleaned off their spots at the table, and took their time getting ready to go, you worked with your receipt. Your hands carefully folded the edges, smoothed parts of it against the table, and traced the lines. Dean was the first one to notice your busy appearance. "The hell are you doin'?" he asked playfully.

"One moment," you replied quietly. You couldn't use your hand to tell him to hold on, but it was clear that you were too focused to talk. Suddenly, Sam's head turned to see what you were doing, too; you had piqued their curiosity. Your tongue casually poked out of the side of your mouth as you focused on your craft before you finally finished. "Tada!" you announced, flicking it at Sam with a big smile.

Clumsily, he caught it in his hands. He pulled it up to stare at it, his eyes going softer as he stared at the piece of paper you had now folded into a heart. His eyes practically sparkled as he stared. "When did you learn how to do this?" he asked, his eyes now peeking back at you.

You shrugged as you took a final sip of your drink. "I dunno. Just started doing it as a kid, and I kind of wanted to try it again."

"Great, we waited just to see you do origami." You could tell Dean was teasing, but honestly, he was probably getting pretty tired.

"Sorry, guys. I'm ready to head out."

That wasn't the end of your heart charades. You guys were in Chicago, and you were finishing up your meal at a 24-hour fast food place. Sam had gone up to pay for your food this time, and when he returned to the table, he placed another receipt in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced up at him. "What's this?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Can you maybe do the heart thing again?"

Now, being kind of shy yourself, you nodded, returning his grin. "Sure."

The next few minutes were spent with him watching you fold. Dean spent about two minutes grumbling about how it was a waste of time, but he took the opportunity to check his emails. However, his baby brother's eyes never left your hands. He was completely and utterly fascinated by the way you created your hearts so effortlessly. And when it was done, you flicked it at him once more. He let out a small laugh, picking it up from the table this time. "I think you did even better than last time."

"Well, practice makes perfect," you let out a yawn. "Are you two ready to go? I'm beat."

"Been ready to go for three years now," Dean quipped as he got out of the booth. Sam followed him out, grumbling something about how he never rushes him. You followed both of them, only barely noticing that Sam had shoved the heart into his pocket.

What followed next were multiple food stops in multiple cities, towns, and states. Each time, the younger Winchester would bring you the receipt in hopes of getting you to make another heart. Honestly, you found it endearing. It was cute to see how excited he would get at the idea of you giving him another heart. You didn't understand why, because you were so sure that he just threw them away when you got back to your motel rooms, but that didn't stop you from enjoying his praise.

It wasn't until your trip to California that you finally found out what he was doing with all of the hearts.

"Sammy, can you hurry?" Dean asked, growing impatient.

Sam continued to ruffle through his bag, scoffing lightly at the nickname. "I'm going as fast as I can!" he groaned with annoyance. He was attempting to find the paper that a recent victim of your case had given him. They had written down the name of a book that might have been helpful. It was something about the history of the town, which included some of the more mysterious aspects. However, since it was fairly early in the case, he had just shoved it into his bag. You watched as he began to pull everything out, throwing his clothes on the bed and placing a box nearby.

You were attempting to help him by peeking through the pockets on the front, but nothing. "Are you sure it's not in here?" you asked, picking up the box and peeking open the lid.

"Definitely not," he commented quietly. You glanced inside just to double-check, only to be met with photos of his parents and his brother. You gasped sheepishly, about to close the box, but then your eyes locked on something familiar. So, you creaked it open a bit further. Your mouth gaped as your eyes fixated on the multiple paper hearts scattered around the box. You began to count them out; you counted ten total. He had saved almost every single one. "Found it!" he called out, excitedly grabbing the paper out of his bag and quickly handing it to Dean.

"About damn time," he snatched it impatiently. "I'm gonna head to the library and look for this. You two can either stay here and research theories or go chat with the family. Up to you."

"I dunno, it's kinda late. I don't wanna bother them right now. How about you?" he asked, his head snapping up to glance at you. That's when he noticed you were still looking in his box. "(Y/N)?"

"You kept them?" You croaked, reaching inside and holding up one of the little hearts.

Dean glanced between the two of you, letting out an awkward cough. "I'm gonna head out. You two decide and do it quick. Be ready when I get back with this book."

"Got it," his brother replied without his eyes leaving yours. The two of you continued to stare at each other in silence until you heard the door shut. With an awkward click of his tongue, he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head. "Uh, yeah."

"You didn't have to keep them. Especially not almost all of them. That's crazy, Sam, they're just taking up space!"

"First off, they're little slips of paper," he teased. "Not exactly notebooks." Suddenly, his hand reached toward his back pocket. You watched in curiosity as he pulled out his wallet. He opened it, flipping it so that you could see the inside. Your eyes widened as they glanced at another heart. "Second off, I kept all of them."

"What makes that one so special?"

"It's the first one you made. The one you flicked at me in Michigan." He shoved the wallet back into his pocket, sighing in discontent. "So, wanna do research? Or should we go talk to the family? Because I have the feeling they—"

You cut him off. "Actually, I kind of want to talk about the hearts."

His eyebrows furrowed in their usual way, and his lips became an unintentional pout. "What about them?"

"Why did you keep them?"

"I dunno," he responded. "I just thought they were cute."

"Well, I could've just taught you how to make them."

"I don't wanna make them. I like them so much because you make them for me," it came out in a whisper. You could see his face turning red, and you were guessing that he was getting hot because he began to roll his sleeves up.

Your eyelids flickered shut a few times. Then, you let out a very small gasp as your lips quirked upward. "That's why you kept asking me to make them!"

"Well, yeah. Why did you think I was doing it?"

"I thought you thought that I enjoyed making them. Which I do, but—that's not why I did."

"Then why did you?" He was testing the waters. You could tell. He knew this was either going to be an answer he would love or one he would hate; it was a chance he was willing to take.

"Well, the first time, I thought it would make you smile. I love your smile," you answered truthfully as your gaze rushed to your feet. "It sounds a bit silly now," you laughed softly.

Suddenly, his head shook. "That's not silly. It's sweet, cute even." You looked up just in time to see him grin. "And I'm glad you did. Because I really like them. And I really— I really like you."

"Really?"

Clearly amused by your outburst, he nodded. "A lot. So much, in fact, that I convinced myself that you flicked the heart at me and not Dean because you like me more." He let out a laugh. "Which also sounds a bit silly now."

"That's not silly. It's sweet— cute even," you mimicked. Clearing your throat, you began to move towards the table in the motel. "Speaking of Dean, we should probably start the research. Y'know, he's not gonna be happy that we're taking so long."

"So that's it then?"

"What's it?"

He followed your motions, coming closer to the table as well. "Well, I kind of just told you that I like you, and I didn't really get a response."

You thought that your mimicking had been a clear enough indication. But you assumed that because he was so nervous, he didn't really notice what you were doing. Reluctantly, you reached up to press a quick kiss on his cheek. It was gentle, the kind that was held back by nerves. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. I think."

"Was that okay?" You were the one whispering this time.

"Yes! I mean, yeah. Yeah, it was okay. More than okay. Can you maybe do that more? Please?" With a flattered grin, you reached up again, but this time you planted your kiss on the tip of his nose. He was content with your answer. So, he quickly and awkwardly took his seat at the table. "Let's get started before Dean gets back."

"Does this mean you'll make me more hearts?" he asked, pulling his laptop out of the bag that he had dragged over.

"If you want me to."

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments as he logged on. You reached for one of the old books that he had carefully placed in his backpack, pausing for only a moment when he suddenly perked up. "Can I make a request?"

You blinked once, cautiously grabbing the book before sitting up. "About what?"

"The hearts."

"Go on."

"Can you maybe make one out of the paper that we gave Dean? Y'know, when he brings it back?"

"Well, it's bigger than my usual receipt, but I could try. Why?"

He swiftly brought his hand up to the back of his head once more, patting down any hair that could possibly be sticking up. "Dunno," he commented quietly. "It's a special occasion, isn't it? I kinda want something to remember it by." You watched as he slowly cracked a smile and a small chuckle. "I'm being stupid again."

"No!" you quickly defended. "No, it's a really cute idea. I'll do it."

"Good!" He looked down at his laptop. "Great!" he repeated.

"If I taught you how to do it, you could make me hearts, too."

That caught his attention. His eyes snapped back up to look at you. "I hadn't even thought of that. Teach me!"

The last thing you remembered was being in the back of the Impala. It had been a super long day and a pretty busy one at that. You were crammed in the backseat with the two angels while the two brothers sat up front. You remembered chatting softly with Castiel and Gadreel, and then you remembered yawning. That was all your brain could seem to come up with. But as you awoke, your eyes fluttering open, you were quick to realize you were no longer in the Impala. In fact, you were tucked cozily into your bed. Your eyes scanned the room in confusion before landing on the man sitting in your chair. You let out a loud gasp, sat up quickly, and reached for the knife you keep under your pillow before your brain finally registered what you were seeing. "Gadreel!" you scolded. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I apologize."

You yawned, bringing your hand up to pat down your hair. "How did I get here?"

"You fell asleep in the back of Dean's car. I carried you in after you wouldn't get off of my shoulder."

Suddenly, your face heated. Now, your hand messed with your hair anxiously. "I'm sorry. I guess I was just drained."

"It's alright. I allowed you to stay asleep.

"Well, that answers all of my questions except one. What are you still doing here?"

"I'm not needed back in Heaven yet. So, I decided to stay here and watch over you. Besides," he said, pausing as he flipped the page of his book. "Your human books are quite interesting."

"So, you've just been— watching me sleep?"

"In a way, yes. I have mostly been reading." His eyes continued to scan the book before flipping to the next page. "You should return to your slumber."

"How am I supposed to do that when I know you're just sitting in my room?"

"I can leave if you would like."

"No, no, it's fine," you replied as you allowed yourself to lie backward in your bed. "Honestly, it's kind of nice. Y'know, knowing I won't have to worry about dying in my sleep."

"I am glad I can be of help." The two of you fell silent as you attempted to go back to sleep. You closed your eyes, turning on your side to be more comfortable. However, you began to shiver. Your teeth even chattered a few times. Clearly, Gadreel noticed, because you heard his book close gently. "Is there something wrong?"

You brought your blanket up to your chin, attempting to warm up. "I'm just kind of cold," you whispered.

In the blink of an eye, the man rose from his chair. "Do you keep spare blankets?"

You softly shook your head. "No, we don't. Not as far as I know, anyway. I haven't really explored the full bunker."

"Would you like me to ask Sam?"

"No, no, it's fine. Don't bother him. I'll be okay."

"Well, then, how should we warm you up?"

"Could you maybe lay with me?" You asked; your voice was quiet. It wasn't exactly out of character for you to show affection toward Gadreel, but this was a new request. You had never asked for something like that before.

Luckily for you, the angel didn't mind. However, he was fairly confused. "How would that help?"

"Body heat. Bodies give off warmth, so having two people under one blanket will make it warmer."

"I am not sure that angels have body heat."

"That doesn't matter, right? Your vessel does." Now that you could back up your claim, he had no problem coming over to the side of the bed. He waited for you to welcome him to the bed, which you did very quickly. You moved over, folding over the corner of the blanket so that he could get under. Reluctantly, he climbed into bed, situating himself to lie down. You could feel him stiffen under your touch as you wrapped an arm around him, moving closer. Your head cautiously came to rest on his chest, near his side, before you muttered a quiet "Is this okay?"

"Are you warmer?"

You thought about it for a moment. You definitely were; you could feel the heat radiating from him. Not to mention the increase in heat coming from your own body now that the two of you were so close. Your nerves shot up, and now you were almost breaking out in a sweat. "Mhm," you murmured as your eyes fluttered closed. "You are incredibly warm."

"Glad to be of help," he responded just as quietly. You could tell he was trying to keep it down so that you could go back to sleep. It was the little things like this that you cherished about him. However, his consideration didn't matter much when you started giggling. "Are you not going back to sleep?"

"I am! I just can't help but think about how silly it is that you carried me in to get me off of your shoulder, and now I'm falling asleep on you again."

"I never said I wanted you off my shoulder." You might not have heard his words if the world weren't so quiet.

"Is that an invitation then?"

You were surprised to feel his hand gently trail up your arm. You held back a shiver as his fingers traced your skin before settling on your forearm. "I suppose so." Calmly, you lifted your head ever so slightly to press a kiss to his jaw. You felt it clench beneath your lips. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

"Is that not something you humans do with a lover?"

You didn't bother to respond to that. You just let your head come to rest on his chest again. You didn't mind him being a little oblivious; in fact, you thought it was cute. Quietly, you sighed in contentment. "Usually. But I just wanted to kiss you."

You fought back the urge to jump when you felt something softly press against your temple. Your left eye fluttered open only slightly to see the image of his lips against your head. Then the feeling was gone. "I see. Well, you are welcome to kiss me anytime. But you really should go back to sleep."

"Okay. But, before I do-" you paused. "Can you lay with me like this more often?"

"Would you like me to?"

"More than anything."

"Then I will see what I can do. Now, go to bed," you could see his mouth resisting the urge to quirk into a smile. So, you smiled yourself.

"Goodnight, Gadreel."