A fun Christmas challenge welcome to any and all fandoms and creators!
Run by Lobster - She/Her/They/Them
**SFW Only - NO Smut**
My inbox is always open for any questions you may have but no hate, drama or personal issues of any kind will be tolerated. I am uncomfortable with DMs from ANYONE. It is not just you, I don't do DMs with anybody, please do not be offended, this is just what I am and am not comfortable with, please respect that.
She/Her/They/Them
Welcome! I'm Lobster, you might know me from my main blog @reginaphalangelobster or my graphics blog @lobster-graphics
I've seen so many fun challenges for October and a few for December so I decided to make my own!
It's quite simple, all you need to do is check out the Challenge Card below and write fics or make art according to the prompt.
Prompts:
An Unexpected Guest
Snowflake
Frostbite
Christmas Party
Hot Chocolate
Your Favourite Grinch
"Be my Valentine?" - "It's Christmas"
Gingerbread Construction Zone
Surprise Decorating
Home for the Holidays
Ice Skating
Baking Cookies
Mistletoe
Too Much Eggnog
"I didn't get you a gift" - "You are my gift"
The Perfect Gift
Snowed In
Ugly Sweaters
Last Minute Shopping
Secret Santa
"I'm cold" - "Here, have my jacket"
Christmas Movie Night
Cozy Couch Cuddles
An Unexpected Gift
Looking at Lights Together
Rules
SFW Only
No incest or close to incestuous relationships - i.e. Starker, Thorki
No romantic relationship between 18+ and under 18 characters
ABSOLUTELY NO AI
All fandoms and creators are welcome!
Most of these prompts are quite fluffy but angst, whump and hurt/comfort are all welcome too!
Platonic and romantic relationships are welcome
Your works can be character x character, character x reader or a mix of both
Polyamorus ships are a-okay
Do as many or as few days as you like, in any order
Please feel free to combine prompts if you like!
I will reblog all fics and art that use the correct tags - any likes or comments will come from my main @reginaphalangelobster
Please tag with #fandomlessadventchallenge2025 - I know that's quite a mouthful, sorry!
Also please mention me in your post with @fandomless-advent-challenge to be 100% sure I see it
I will be reblogging all throughout December and probably January. There is no official end date thought so keep creating for as long as you like! - max deadline being October 31st 2026
I will do my best to read fics in my fandoms but I may not be able to read all of them
If you have any questions, send an ask to my inbox and I will answer you as soon as possible!
Thank you to everyone who chooses to participate!
Timezone = UTC + 10
All graphics are made by me and my requests are open, find me at @lobster-graphics
The reblog chain is one of the things that makes Tumblr unlike anywhere else. All the notes on reblogs are attributed to the original post, no matter which branch people actually liked or reblogged. We want to keep encouraging conversations, and give contributors the recognition they deserve.
Soon, you'll be able to like, reblog, or reply to any part of a reblog chain, and that note will go to that reblog's author. Each reblog will have its own counts, instead of one aggregated number from every version of the post. And yes, you’ll be able to like multiple posts in one chain.
If a reblog doesn't add anything, the love flows up to the last person in the chain who did. Your post doesn't lose notes just because people spread it quietly.
Past notes will stay on the original post — we're only changing what happens from here on out. Retroactively re-attributing all of them would be... a lot.
This is just the beginning. More changes are coming as we keep building this out – stay tuned!
Creators, authors, artists, etc. already have it hard enough. We barely get any engagement, especially reblogs are very scarce — Tumblr so far does it best, imo, when it comes to conversations through replies and reblogs, much unlike other social media where most users like and scroll on.
Splitting these notes up does not give those, who reblog recognition! It takes away recognition from the OP. Everyone is already welcome to reblog from someone who already reblogged a post and add their own comment to it. Why are we excluding OPs from conversations about THEIR posts? Am I misunderstanding this feature?
seconding this. to anybody whos seeing this update roll out, I highly encourage you to understand this feature. I also highly encourage you to learn how to find the original post, and interact with the post from there. what im most worried for is that artists and authors and other creators using this site will leave, because tumblr continually pushes features that create poor environments for the creators they claim to support. please support original posts where you can. ill be doing my best to do that as well.
A/N: The end, holy shit this took me 3 weeks. This was meant to be posted on Christmas, it's January 4th holy.
Title: Secret Santa
Pairing: Severus Snape x oc
Summary: Louise gets Severus for Secret Santa, and Severus gets Louise. They both ask a common friend, Minerva to help them gift give. A game that Severus once thought was stupid brings them both closer than ever.
She was a new professor, Louise Black, from the states, first time teaching at a boarding school, and a very bubbly person.
It was around Christmas time, a few days before students would return from their holiday weekend. Professors and staff would return before students, so they could start preparing for the last few weeks of the semester.
Louise was a very jolly person, Severus had observed her over the months she occupied the muggle history classroom. She was a muggle herself, but she surprisingly taught the subject extremely well.
Every moment Severus spent with her he was on edge, all her students were passing with flying colors. He'd been sorted to observe her class before, and she was just as the students described her: an absolutely amazing teacher.
It was easy to hate her just because of those reasons, but she was outgoing and so nice it made him roll his eyes. The few interactions they had gave him a headache.
---
The meeting held just before students returned was usually a time to dabble and relax. But this time for Severus only started what became weeks of stressing.
"It is a new time, and Hogwarts is becoming more diverse, so I thought it'd be fun to introduce some new holiday traditions," Dumbledore started and looked to Louise, "take it away."
She smiled wide and stepped in front of the podium, stepping on the tallest step to be above it. "As you all know, I am from the states, and I thought I'd share a lovely tradition with you all: Secret Santa."
"What Secret Santa is, is you put all the names of your group in a hat or something to mix them up. After they are thoroughly mixed, you pick a paper out of the container and that is the person you are acting as Santa for. But the catch is, you cannot tell them that you are their Santa. Also don't tell anyone who you have."
A majority of the staff was smiling and seemed to be on board with the idea. Severus did not mind it, like the others, he wrote his name on a piece of parchment and placed it in the hat.
After a vast feast, everyone was ready for full and ready for the night to end. Louise stepped up to the podium again, "now, we pick a piece of paper out of the hat. Remember, don't tell the person you got or anyone else who you are Secret Santa for. Good luck gift giving!"
The hat passed all the seats of the table, Louise mixed the names around to finally pick her piece of parchment. Her lips pursed and she leaned back in her seat, staring at the name, thinking deeply.
After a few minutes, the hat stopped in front of Severus, he just snatched the parchment sitting on the top. He carefully unfolded it, her name—her name—appeared in a mix of print and cursive 'Louise.'
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, this was going to be an interesting holiday.
-------Louise's pov (sorta)
Louise had no idea what to get for Severus, they'd only had a few conversations and the ones they did he never shared more than she already knew about him
She went over the things she'd observed: he liked potions, books on complicated things, potion ingredients, black clothing, and terrorizing students.
The only person she knew he actually tolerated was Minerva, and Dumbledore, but he was a busy man. So, after classes ended Louise cornered Minerva and invited her to tea.
"So.. um.. If you were.. Severus, what would you want for Christmas?" Louise asked Minerva, the older witch raised an eyebrow.
"Did you get Severus for this 'Secret Santa' game?" She inquired.
To that question Louise blushed and tried to defend herself, "no, I didn't get Severus just.. uh asking for a friend."
The witch smirked, "Well he likes.. Earl Gray tea.. potions ingredients, books on potions.. He's also told me he likes wine, not whiskey or drinks of that category. Quills and parchment are just practical items that you could get him."
Louise nodded and reassured Minerva, "I don't actually have him, this is for a friend."
Minerva nodded with a smirk, "Well, I do think he will like the gift he gets."
---(Severus' pov)
Not that Severus would often get good sleep, but tonight his mind just wouldn't slow down. He didn't know much about Louise, just where she was from, and her mannerisms, and how much she sugared her tea—what colors she liked to wear, how she taught, her portion sizes, and the foods she didn't like. But he didn't know what to get her.
He wished the paper came with a list, he did good with following lists—unless they were wrong of course—but those aren't hard to follow.
Louise was friendly with almost anyone, but Severus wasn't much more than acquaintances with most of the staff. So he went to the one person he could think of—Minerva.
"Minerva, um, you know Louise, yes?" He turned his head towards hers as they walked during their routes to make sure children were in bed.
"Who doesn't? What about her?" The witch side-eyed him, a glimmer in her eye hoping he got her for Secret Santa as she did.
Severus let out a sigh, "if you had to give her a gift, what would you buy for her?"
Minerva thought for a moment, "I don't speak to her deeply often, but I know she likes the chocolate truffles the color green, scarfs, silver jewelry, and you know she loves historical books."
He nodded, mentally listing those things in his mind, "yes thank you—I'm asking for a friend—I don't have her in this 'Secret Santa' game."
Holding back a wide smile, Minerva nodded and hoped Severus didn't see her reaction.
---(Lousie's pov)
Picking up a basket, she gazed around the store, looking for where to start. Teas? Wine? Books?
You couldn't go wrong with a bottle of Cabernet, right? Wines were an easy thing to buy for someone most of the time, books and teas was where it got tricky. Did Severus have any allergies? Preferences?
Minerva said he liked Earl Gray, so she picked the brand she usually bought her tea from and headed to the book section. From the peeks she got into his classroom, every shelf was crammed to the brim with books.
It took her an hour to finally pick the books she wanted to get for him. Louise didn't want to get him a copy of something he already owned. So what she ended up with was a 4-book series on different continents and the plants, herbs, vegetables that grew there.
Next she had to gauge how big of a gift bag she needed, she had many fun wrapping and bows at home so that was all she needed to worry about.
This was the day she found out how hard it was to shop for Severus, and men in general. Normally, she would just pick a Christmas themed back and go. But Severus did not seem like the girly type or something who was jolly.
Just as she bent down to pick up a dark green gift wrapping bag, she bumped into somebody. The person cursed under their breath.
"Oh- I'm so clumsy please let me help-" Louise stammered and helped the person collect their items.
She picked up a chunky green scarf, a book collection about the magical colonization of America, and some nice silver earrings.
Everything a girl like her would fancy, she looked up.
Severus, he was right in front of her.
"So sorry, again," she stood up and tried to compose herself.
He blinked and pulled his eyes away from her basket and replied, "yes, as am I."
He walked away and she tried to shake the feelings of the altercation.
Despite the tiny crush she did have on him, she just hoped he hadn't guessed his secret santa was her.
---(Severus' pov)
Severus didn't hate gift giving but stepping out of his comfort zone like this made him very on edge.
The list Minerva gave him proved to be very help full thankfully. He'd picked out a few earring selections, they were a pretty penny, but he assumed all women's jewelry was.
From the outfits he observed, Louise liked chunky wool items. So he picked a dark green chunky scarf, and a nice wool trench coat, but he only had so much arm space, so he decided to come back for it before he headed to the check out.
Severus knew of Louise's love to read, and he figured she liked history since she taught the subject very well. So he picked up the boxed collection, 'How America was Colonized, And How Wizardry Affected It.'
The items he collected so far seemed like a good collection, so he headed to the gift bag and wrapping aisle. The options of bags and tissue paper were overwhelming so he just picked a green gift back.
His fingers grasped it until he felt someone bump into him. Severus' mind knew who it was before his eyes did, the smell of her perfume clouded his senses and he watched as she stammered talking and to collect his things.
"Oh- I'm so clumsy please let me help-" She said, it was then he realized he probably should snap out of it and help. He was still a bit dizzy from the interaction so he could only mutter a few curses under his breath.
He didn't particularly want her to find out he was her 'Secret Santa' even if he thought the game was stupid.
She looked up at him, sending his heart thumping and spoke, ""so sorry, again."
He swallowed, blinked the expression off and tried to sound composed,
"Yes, as am I."
Severus walked away quickly, snatching the trench coat off the rack and headed to the register.
He did not get much sleep that night.
---
At last, it was the night of the faculty party, and when the Secret Santas would be revealed and the gifts exchanged.
Severus tried to look a bit more presentable, though he felt pathetic while doing so. Louise, as usual lately, stood out and looked effortlessly stunning.
Dinner was served first, three courses and an optional dessert. Severus did not indulge, he was already very nervous. He bid his time and glanced a few seats down at Louise, she was enjoying some apple pie with whipped cream.
A little of the whip cream was smeared on her top lip, he stared at her lips for a few seconds before clenching his jaw and looking away.
He hated, but loved, how she made him feel. Severus had to remind himself that this 'relationship' was one sided, and she didn't have feelings for him. Especially after how he had treated her.
After an agonizingly long meal and chatter, it was finally time to exchange the gifts. There was no reason or rhyme of how to do it. Louise just got on the speaker and told everyone to start gift giving.
Severus expected Louise to give the gift to her person so he waited until she was done to give it to her. But that moment never came because she scanned the crowd and once she laid eyes on him, Louise started walking towards him.
He swallowed and looked away, not liking that he was caught staring at her.
"Hello Severus- May I call you that?" She smiled, and handed him his gift, "Happy Christmas."
He stared at the well wrapped gift and replied, "yes, thank you for this gift."
She nodded and waited for him to open it.
Out of the awkwardness, he gave Louise her gift. He was surprisingly good at wrapping, only had to read a few instructions on a book he found in the library.
Her head tilted as her eyes softened, "thank you so much."
Severus blinked and merely replied, "sorry for the odd shape, I wasn't sure how to arrange such items."
She took her head, " no, no, thank you so much."
The two sat in silence as they took in the consideration of each gift, how the other person knew just what to get was unbeknownst to them.
Severus chuckled as he looked at the wine he'd received, "who told you about my love for wine?"
Louise's face lit up at his happiness, "a friend of a friend, who told you about my love for reading?"
He sat up straight and rearranged the item how they first were, "um.. a friend of a friend."
How he quoted her made her laugh and her nose scrunch.
"Truly thank you Severus, these are very thoughtful gifts."
That comment made his heart beam, "you are welcome, as are your gifts."
---
The 'Secret Santa' Severus once viewed as stupid blossomed into something he was forever grateful for.
It was six months into their relationship now, it was mostly something they were trying to be discreet about, but Severus discovered that was not something that came easily to him.
"Severus." Lousie called from his bathroom.
He got up from his reading chair immediately and followed her voice, "yes love?"
"You spent sixty quid on these earrings?" She asked, looking surprised at the price tag.
Severus tilted his head, "yes, is that not the normal price?"
Louise exhaled and almost laughed, "it is for really nice earrings why didn't you just get cheap ones?"
He leaned against the door frame, "I promise I thought those were the normal price. And why are you just wearing them here now? I got them for you months ago?"
She smiled, "Well, after you took me home and we got busy, our rough housing must have knocked them out of my bag."
Severus blushed, "darling-"
---
Shout out to @fandomless-advent-challenge for giving me this idea!
Summary: It’s the first winter after the defeat of the Netherbrain. Everybody tries to settle down and come to terms with their new status as heroes. Here they are, awaiting new adventures.
Lae'zel has a sweet tooth, another thing she would never admit.
Prompt: Baking Cookies
"Lae'zel I made something for you. As a thank you for helping saving me."
Yenna's smile beaming at the githyanki warrior while dragging her through the kitchen to a table full of sweets and cookies. At the beginning the girl had been a bit shy around Lae'zel, but with time she found out the dead serious woman had a heart of gold.
She handed Lae'zel something on a stick. The githyanki watched it closely. It was a sphere and had the same shimmering colour like one of the scales of new born dragons, a soft light red. It also had little white grains on it. Were they some kind of minerals? Could it be sand?
“It´s a sweet,” Yenna told her "a treat for you to enjoy."
Lae'zel nodded thankfully and looked scepticaly at the little globe. She knew what a “sweet” was supposed to be, and humans and elves had such interesting food, but she would seldom dare try something new. Besides she felt uneasy in the kitchen of the orphanage. Surrounded by too many children yelling and running around with sticky fingers. She sat down in the corner behind the table and tried to take a bite of her gift. The shimmering surface cracked beneath her pointy teeth, some of the little white grains came off. The sweetness was so strong Lae'zel's tongue got numb. She was amazed, she never had tasted something like this. Yenna watched her closely.
“It´s made with lemon cake. I hope you like it."
Lemon? What was this now? Lae'zel frowned, weren't lemons these yellow bitter-sour fruits? How could they be used for cake? Slowly chewing she crushed the grains and it turned out they were even sweeter. Lae'zel didn't think it could be possible to taste more sweetness, than she already had. She needed to find out more about these spheres on a stick and whatever they called “lemon cake”. And how these Istik could handle so much sweetness.
Under the cracking surface of the sphere, there was a soft and crumbling filling. It sticked to her teeth. She tried to get it off with her tongue and slowly her sense of taste started working again. The filling had a hint of something familiar, but she couldn't figure it out. Whatever the surface was made of, it melted in her mouth. She had no chance to get the taste of it. That was why she tried to peel off a piece of it. It sticked onto her fingers and it started melting again. Lae'zel looked at it in a mixture of wonder and horror.
“It´s made of couverture, a kind of chocolate covering. And I used lot's of sprinkles. ” Yenna happily explained.
Whatever. Lae'zel catched the piece with her lips before it could fall to the floor. It was soft and melting. A velvety and rich taste, she wanted more of it and she hated to admit it. Food should nourish not bring pleasure, that was unnecessary. She pursed her lips and looked at the table full of plates filled with treats.
Still Lae'zel ended up with sticky fingers and a little grin on her face. Yenna smiled at her satisfied.
„You want more? You should try all the different cookies we made. And the gingerbread.... oh and don't forget the seedcakes. Let me get you a plate."
The girl ran away, leaving a curious githyanki behind. Forgetting about her sticky fingers and the annoying children, Lae'zel reached out and took one of the cookies. It was of dark brown color with white spots. They were melting in her hand. More couverture? Definitely more sticky fingers. Well, the fearless githyanki warrior would accept the challenge and try all of it before leaving tomorrow.
Fandomless Advent Challenge - "Be my Valentine?" - "It's Christmas"
Castiel x GN!Reader
Summary: Cas is dying. At least, he thinks he is. Dean has another theory, involving you.
Warnings: swearing, mild violence, comedy, fluff, painfully adorable and simple Cas, Dean's over all of it and just wants cake
Word Count: 800
"I believe I am dying"
Dean just rolled his eyes at Castiel's out of the blue statement.
"Um" Sam started, trying to take him seriously "Why exactly do you think you're dying?"
"Because I am. Either that or there is an issue with my vessel"
"And what's the issue?"
"There are many of them actually. I feel exceedingly warm, especially facially. My palms are sweating which is strange considering I don't sweat under any circumstances, my vessel's heart feels like it's trying to…get out"
"Get out?"
"It beats far faster than it should and my throat feels tight as well. Is this death?"
"Drama queen" Dean muttered, taking a swig of his beer.
"Uh, Cas" Sam started "I uh, I don't think you're dying"
"Well then what's wrong with me?"
"Got a pen?"
"Not now Dean" Sam glared at his brother.
"Alright" Dean leaned back in his chair "How 'bout we do a little experiment?"
"What would that entail?" The Angel asked.
Without warning, from the top of his lungs, Dean screamed out your name.
In seconds, you were crashing into the door as you ran in, gun in one hand, wooden spoon in the other. Still covered in frosting. Dean stretched his arm out, taking the spoon from your hand with a smirk and a wink.
"Thanks Sweetheart"
"What the fuck, Dean?! I thought you were dying!"
"Of hunger. How long's that cake gonna take?"
You ripped the spoon from his hand after he'd barely had a lick, whacking him across the head with it.
"You son of a bitch! I'm trying to be nice and bake you a cake for no reason other than the fact that I love you, and you decide to give me a fucking heart attack!"
"I-"
"No! I'm sick of your shit, Dean! Bake your own cake" You huffed as you started to walk away before Dean's voice beckoned you back in.
"Cas wanted you"
"Oh" You turned around, smiling just a little "Yes, Angel?"
"I- um, hello" He replied awkwardly.
Your grin widened a little bit "Hi"
"It is….nice to see you"
"Nice to see you too, Sweetie"
Cas felt all the things he described before, all amplified by ten at the nickname.
"Well, th-thank you"
"You're welcome?"
You turned, going back to your cake, a pathetically widen smile on your face.
"Goddamn" Dean muttered under his breath "I knew you were in love, but that? That takes the cake. Ha, literally"
"You're such an idiot" Sam rolled his eyes, leaving the room.
"Bitch!"
"Jerk!"
"I do not understand" Castiel replied.
"Listen here Angelface, you're in love. That's what all those feelings are"
"I'm in love"
"Yuh-huh"
"What do I do?"
"I dunno, ask 'em out. 's not that hard"
"How would I ask?"
"Uhhh, some people ask people to be their Valentine" Dean murmured, more to himself than Cas, just going over random thoughts "Some- Cas?" He looked around, finding an empty room "Damn it, Cas"
Dean left for the kitchen, getting there just a second too late as he saw Castiel appear behind you.
"I-" He started before you let out a little scream, surprised by his sudden presence.
"Cas! Could you please walk into a room, just once?"
"I will keep that in mind. I have something to ask you"
"Oh, okay, go ahead"
"Will you-" He paused, trying to phrase it right "Be my Valentine?"
"It's Christmas"
Dean's head fell down, somewhat in disappointment, but mainly exhaustion.
"I know"
"Valentine's Day is in February"
"The question still stands"
"Um, yeah, sure"
He smiled in that cute little Cas way of his and turned, walking out the door.
"Wait, Cas?" You asked.
"Yes?"
"W- I- Did you just ask me out?"
"I believe I did"
"Oh, okay"
He turned again.
"Cas?"
"Yes?"
"Valentine's Day is like two months away"
"It is"
"Would you maybe wanna go out sometime before then?"
"Yes. I would like that"
He turned again, again.
"Okay"
Dean stood slightly slack-jawed as Cas passed by him.
"W- how did that work?"
"In your words, Dean, my charm makes me irresistible"
Safe to say, he spit out his beer.
You leaned up against the doorway, plucking the beer from his hand "He's right y'know"
"Oh- Ugh- No! That's just- wrong"
You smirked, grabbing Cas' hand "C'mon dumb ass, have some cake with us"
"It's ready?"
"Yeah" You sighed with a little smile "Now sit down and eat, before I find another reason to beat you over the head. And I have much sharper things than spoons in here, so watch it"
Someone gets a bit drunk at a christmas party before break—based on @fandomless-advent-challenge prompt #7/#14: “Be my valentine?” - “It’s Christmas.” / Too Much Eggnog
wc: 1054
warnings: reader’s drunk from the spiked nog, pure sugary christmas fluff!!! lots of pet names (like it’s actually crazy), not rlly proofread srryyy
an: merry christmas guys :0 this was supposed to come out a few days ago buttttt i didn’t know what i wanted to do w/ it. ALSO!! i didn’t forget abt the christmas dean fic guys dw it’s coming
feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!!
You tug at the loose string on your sweater, watching it extend as your pulling becomes more adamant.
Long, slender fingers take the string and tuck it into the arm hole of your sweater.
Whoever this is smells superrrrr yummy.
You look up and blink profusively, trying to steady your vision despite the blaring incandescent lights. Everything may be blurry, but the brown shaggy hair that settles on the wrinkly brown carhartt jacket is not. You gasp, “Sammy!” You wrap your arms around your lanky boyfriend’s shoulders, immediately pushing your body into his.
“We really gotta find you some scissors—and you really need to stop drinking all this eggnog.”
You whine, “But it’s so yummy! And it’s so spicy! And—” You’re abruptly cut off with an earth-shattering hiccup.
Sam smiles, and it takes everything in you not to stick your finger into his dimple. “I know, honey—any reason why you’re poking my face?”
You shush your boyfriend quickly, “Shhh, lemme finger your dimple.” You continue to mush his cheeks, cooing as his smile brightens.
“Ew, don’t say it like that.”
“Why—” hic “Aren’t you drinking with me? Take a sippy, baby,” you pout and hold out a cup that sat on the counter next to you. Sam winces when the eggnog nearly sloshes over the random cup’s rim.
Sam takes the cup and sets it behind him. You’re unaware where it went because you closed your eyes and started cheering through a slur when he took it.
“I gotta take you home, sweetheart,” Sam pushes a few sticky hairs from your forehead. He grins so hard it makes his cheeks hurt when he sees your eyes tracking his finger.
Your tone is soft when you speak, “Our home?” Sam hums affirmatively, and you puff with glee. “That’s so cool!”
Sam’s second hum seemingly bores you because your head trails elsewhere, and the grip you have on Sam’s biceps starts to loosen.
You twist your lips, “I wanna Purple Nurple—do y’think there’s any? Do y’think Trace will make me one?”
You go to turn away but Sam quickly grabs you by your belt loops. “Nope—absolutely not, you’re not going anywhere but the car.
Sam tries not to show his amusement at your whining, but it’s not as successful as he wants it to be.
“But I—” hic “Dance w’me?” You look up at Sam so sweetly, and he knows he screwed the longer he looks into your doe-eyes.
“We can dance at home, honey,” Sam murmurs, letting his hands go from holding your waist and up to your cheeks. “It’s not yucky at home.”
You squint at the brunette, “You’re yucky.” You go limp in Sam’s arms, burying your face into his chest.
Sam huffs through a laugh, “I know, ‘m so yucky.”
You sigh, “Can we go home?”
“Yeah, c’mon honey. Hold onto me.”
Sam walks drags you to the car and helps you settle into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and lowers your seat back as you squeeze at his cheeks.
“You’re so pretty, Sammy!” Your giggle turns into a squeal when Sam tickles your side with his index finger.
“Watch your fingers, angel,” he soothes before shutting the car door as softly as he was able.
You shut your eyes tightly as the street lights somehow glow brighter than ever before through the windshield.
Sam enters the car and winces when he accidentally slams the door shut, as do you. He whispers sweet-nothings to you in return.
He turns on the radio but the song remains faint. Sam takes it upon himself to roll your window down slightly. The sound of the wind blowing against the now-moving car is almost louder than whatever the station decided to play tonight.
You fiddle with the end of your shirt, rolling the cotton between the pads of your fingers as you sink further into the seat. You can feel Sam’s warm hand on your thigh; it’s warm, but not in a way that makes you feel sweaty and hot—in a way that makes you feel safe, seen, and loved.
You can smell his cologne as it swirls around you like a divine mist of heaven.
Sammy smells so good.
Like the pine trees in the woods on a sorta rainy day, if the woods weren’t so scary.
You just want to sniff the trees—
“Honey, you cant touch my chest like that, ‘m driving,” Sam mutters fondly.
You peak your eyes open at him when his hand that was on your thigh goes up to the one you laid on his chest. He takes it and holds it firmly, before plopping your conjoined hands back on your thigh.
“Jus’ wanna—touch the grass,” you murmur, turning your head towards the window.
Sam gives you a double take before shaking his head in disbelief and shifting his attention to the road’s lines.
You blink, and once you open your eyes, you’re met with Sam unbuckling your seatbelt. You squint through the windshield and you see the towering apartment building that you love so, so much.
Woah, that was a superrr long blink, wasn’t it?
You can’t help but whine as Sam gathers you into his arms; he murmurs soft apologies once he realizes that he’s jostled you.
You try to wrap your arms around his neck, but they’re too tingly and noodle-y for you to even lift them halfway.
Getting into the building with both you and your purse in Sam’s arms proves to be a bit of a challenge.
But you both know it’s nothing.
“Mmn, you’re so strong, Sammy,” you sigh wistfully.
“Thank you, angel. Go t’sleep now, okay?”
You hum and let your eyes shut, finding solace in Sam’s careful movement.
You’re so sleepy, but there’s only one thought that crosses your mind.
Or more specifically, a question.
You whisper, “Sammy?”
“Yeah?” Sam’s tone is just as soft, if not more.
“Be my valentine?”
There’s a beat of silence, but you don’t really catch it.
“It’s almost Christmas.”
“Oh,” You mumble.”Will you be my Christmas-tine?”
Sam can’t help but chuckle. “Of course, angel. Get some sleep, please.”
Little does he know, you fell asleep as soon as he laughed—the vibrations from his chest comforting you immediately.
He starts to put it together once a snore falls from your lips, though.
Steve rounded the corner, tucking his chin to his chest. The bitter New York wind was cold, even to the supersoldier. He hated the cold as it was all too reminiscent of his… long nap. He was about to cross the street to make his way into Stark Tower when he noticed a familiar figure standing on the sidewalk opposite the hulking building. “Y/N?”
You glanced over at him, giving him a smile and a small wave, before turning your attention back skyward. You were dressed in only a hoodie and leggings– if Steve was cold despite being bundled up, you must have been nearly frozen. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, stepping closer. He stamped his feet slightly, trying to keep some feeling in them.
“Tony’s putting the Christmas lights up today.”
Steve turned his attention upwards. There, soaring around the tip of the tower, a blur of red. “Yeah, that’s what this tower needs, more lights, more attention. It’s not like it’s an eyesore already or anything.”
You pulled your attention away from the decorating. “Don’t be a party pooper. Didn’t they have Christmas decorations back in your day?”
“Of course, we did. But…”
“But?”
“It was much more toned down. Today’s stuff is so… garish.” Steve nodded up at the tower. “I can only imagine what Tony’s put together.”
“Okay, Grumpy Gus. Sorry I brought up such a touchy subject.”
Steve sighed slightly. He hadn’t meant to snap, but the cold was making him grouchy. “Come on,” he said, uncrossing his arms to place a hand on your back. “Let’s get inside before we freeze to death.” With gentle (but firm) pressure, he guided you across the street and into the lobby of Stark Tower. The two of you rode the elevator up to the living quarters. Soft Christmas muzak played through the speakers.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the large central living room that all of the Avengers had access to. The sight before you was a surprise to you both.
Thor was standing in the middle of the room, shouting directions at Hulk. “No, Banner, to the left! The left!” The Asgardian waved his left hand, pointing in the direction he wanted the large green figure to move the oversized tree. Hulk growled slightly, picking up the tree and shuffling to the left. “A little more… a little more… almost there… perfect!”
You swore the ground shook slightly as Hulk slammed the tree down.
Wanda was standing off to the side of the room, using her telekinesis to hang strings of multicolored lights around the room. The lights were alternating at a lazy speed– red and blue bulbs, then green and yellow.
Natasha had cleared off one of the large ‘catch-all’ tables and was busy covering it with tiny ceramic buildings. The collection reminded you of your grandmother’s Christmas village that you’d always loved looking at when you were a child.
You’d just noticed Clint standing in the corner when he let loose an arrow, flying directly to the tree. Steve had also noticed his teammate and was also concerned about the weapon. “Hey! What–”
The arrow hit the tree and exploded into a small burst of tinsel, the silvery strands draping themselves over the branches. You saw Clint smile to himself as he notched another arrow. ‘Leave it to Tony to create a festive weapon,’ you thought to yourself.
Bruce had calmed himself and was stepping out from around the tree. “Oh. Hey, guys.” He grabbed a shirt from the couch and slipped it on. “Come to join the party?”
“Is that what this is?” Steve grumbled.
Bucky walked by, a large tub with the word ORNAMENTS scrawled on the side in marker. “Come on, Steve, don’t be a cold fish.” He shot you a look. “We always have to rope this guy into the fun, huh?”
You smiled but felt it melt away as Steve turned and disappeared down the hall. “Why does he hate Christmas?”
“He doesn’t. At least, he didn’t.” Bucky shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I think… I think he just gets homesick this time of year. Not for a place, necessarily, but for a time. He’s a really nostalgic guy and the way holidays are celebrated today… they don’t really feel the same.”
You nodded. “He did say something about the decorations being ‘garish’.”
Bucky set the box down and took off the lid. You watched as he studied the contents before carefully plucking out an ornament. He held it up for you to see. It was a gorgeous teardrop-shaped piece of glass that even from a distance looked fragile. It was a vibrant shade of emerald that was just light enough to see through. “See, this is the kind of stuff Steve and I grew up with. Simple, colorful, delicate.” Bucky leaned down again, pulling up another ornament. He flicked a switch on the bottom and the bauble began to chime out Jingle Bell Rock, tiny red and white lights flashing from it. “This,” he said with a slight grimace. “Is the kind of stuff that covers every tree and house in the city. Festive, sure, but…”
“But not the same.”
Bucky nodded, silencing the singing ornament. “Steve likes modern advancements, at least the ones he can understand. But it’s never going to feel like home to him.”
“Buck-Buck!” Thor called across the room. “Where are the ornamental decorations for the evergreen?”
“‘Buck-Buck’?” Bucky repeated with a slight scowl. “Who the hell told him…” He turned his eyes to you. “Y/N?”
“Bye, Buck-Buck!” you called over your shoulder as you darted down the hall.
Later that night, when the sky had turned dark, Tony made everyone traipse back out to the street for a grand ‘building-lighting’.
“Get ready to have your little minds blown,” Tony said as the group stood around, shivering. He flicked one switch and all the lights surrounding the tower went out. He flicked another and the tower lit up, blindingly bright. The lights flickered, appearing to move like a wave around the cone of the building. The ‘s’ and ‘r’ in STARK were now red, the ‘t’ and ‘k’ green, with only the A remaining in its traditional white.
“And now,” Tony said. “The grand reveal.”
Another switch and images started playing amidst the lights– snowmen throwing snowballs, reindeer flying across a night sky, presents piling up under a tree.
“This is quite grand!” Thor said. “Good job, man of iron.”
“That’s not all, Point Break.” One more switch and music began to play from hidden speakers. The lights began to change color, the bulbs going out and turning on in time to the song, appearing as if they were moving across the surface of the building. You’d seen similar displays on YouTube but nothing near the size of this. You had to admit, it was breathtaking.
“How are we supposed to sleep with all that going on, Stark?” Steve asked. He’d bundled up this time– his eyes could barely be seen between the edge of his stocking cap covering his brow and the edge of his scarf covering his nose. “All of these are going to shine directly into our windows. Not to mention, the volume of the music.”
“Calm down, Capsicle. I’ve installed blackout curtains in all your rooms, and the music will only play on the hour and the half-hour from 5 pm until 10.” The billionaire turned towards him. “After all, I know how much you need your beauty sleep.”
Steve’s grumpy attitude lingered over the next few weeks. He was able to tamp it down, keep a neutral expression (sometimes even a soft smile!), but occasionally, you’d look over to find him scowling at the tree, the lights, the gingerbread village you, Natasha, and Wanda had made (Thor had helped, too– his disaster of a building was displayed proudly).
One night, as the group gathered in the living room to watch Christmas movies, you pulled Steve towards the door. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Y/N, I don’t really feel like–”
“You really want to listen to Clint and Tony say every line of Christmas Vacation in tandem with Chevy Chase?”
“Let me grab my coat.”
And so, all bundled up, the two of you took the elevator down to the street, stepping out into the frosty evening. A few inches of snow had fallen recently– while that on the street had been cleared, lawns and rooftops still glittered white. You stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and stuck your arm out, hailing a cab. Despite the modern versions of travel, Steve still liked having a big yellow car pull up and whisk him away.
The two of you shuffled into the backseat and you gave an address to the driver. It didn’t sound familiar to Steve, but that didn’t mean anything. You had a knack for finding locations off the beaten path– pizza joints, bars, antique stores.
The cab drove off. Steve watched the city streets pass by in a blur– businesses with painted windows, holiday animatronics, artificial trees of every color (very few green, though, he noticed). The streets grew darker as the cab moved from the business district to neighborhoods. Finally, the car pulled over and you handed the driver his payment before stepping out onto the curb.
The cab pulled away and Steve looked around. Nothing here looked familiar– it was just a bunch of houses with small yards packed with inflatables and roofs covered with LED lights. “Where are we?”
“Almost there.” You started walking, heading for the next block over. Steve caught up to you in a few steps, eyes darting around to make sure nothing was hiding in the shadows. It always amazed him how you would stride about the streets of New York so confidently– barely a care that someone not-so-nice might come across your path and hurt you or snatch you up.
You turned the corner and stopped somewhat abruptly. “Here we are.”
Steve looked around– again, none of the buildings stood out to him as important. But as he looked around, he noticed a distinct difference in these houses. Gone were the inflatables, the overly bright lights, the larger-than-life figurines. The houses on this block were decorated but modestly. Single strands of colored lights edged roofs; paper snowflakes were taped to windows. Occasionally, an exterior tree was decorated with ornaments, but all he could see were large, solidly colored orbs. There was no music, no flashing lights, no sense of commercialism or overconsumption.
“What is this place?” he asked, taking a few steps down the block.
“One of the older neighborhoods in the city. A lot of these houses are considered historical and the people who live in them take that to heart. So, while the neighboring streets might go overboard with their holiday decorations, these homes lean more towards the decorations of the past.”
Steve stopped in front of one house. Through the large picture window, a tree could be seen. It was fluffy and full, a deep green color– definitely real. It was decorated simply, with the kind of ornaments Bucky had said were familiar to Steve. A few strands of tinsel, as well as some ropes of popcorn and cranberries, could be seen among the branches. A young boy, probably no more than six, popped up next to the tree. An action figure was in one hand and even from this distance, you recognized the stars and stripes it was wearing. The boy spotted you and Steve standing in front of the house and waved. Steve smiled, gave him a salute. The boy’s eyes widened, dropping down to the toy in his hands. He began to bounce excitedly, turning and calling for someone else in the house to come look.
Quietly, you and Steve stepped down the block, admiring the other houses.
“I get it, you know,” you finally said. “Christmas… it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Granted, my Christmases growing up were in the 90s, so they were probably pretty different from yours.” Steve grunted slightly– he always felt a little odd when you pointed out just how many years existed between the two of you. “But,” you continued. “I look around today and… something’s changed. I don’t mean the technology or the price of gifts or anything… although those have certainly changed. But when I was a kid… there really was something magical about the Christmas season. It was exciting to decorate the tree, to bake cookies, to watch silly cartoons. I looked forward to getting to wear my holiday dresses and the shirts with my favorite cartoon characters wearing Santa hats. Staying up on Christmas Eve was the best, always hoping to finally see the big man himself. It was…” You shrugged, unable to find the right word to describe the nostalgia that had just filled your mind. The smallest of tears pricked your eye. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s just what growing up is. You lose the magic of the holiday season.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t make our own.” Steve reached down, slipping his gloved hand into yours. “Thank you for bringing me here, Y/N. I’ll admit, I might’ve been a bit of a… I believe the word is ‘grinch’--”
“You were definitely a grinch.”
Steve’s mouth flattened slightly. “But,” he continued, trying to get back to the point he’d been making. “But this… this feels like… what I’ve been missing about Christmas.” He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against the puffy jacket across his chest. “Thank you.”
The two of you stood there for a few moments, bathed in the warm glow of minimally decorated houses. “What do you say we go home,” Steve whispered, his tone shifted from warm and fuzzy to hot and desirous. “And I let you unwrap a very special present?”
Your cheeks flushed redder than the Christmas bulbs.
Dating a billionaire superhero tech genius certainly had its perks– you had access to some of the most advanced technology, you could travel basically anywhere you wanted in luxury. And while dating a superhero was somewhat dangerous– you could be used as bait by some baddie to lure Tony into their trap, or be just outright killed if they really wanted to hurt him– you had the strongest and smartest group of people backing your every move. Should anything even slightly bad happen to you, the Avengers would stop at nothing to get you back home, safe and sound.
But dating a billionaire superhero tech genius also had some downsides. For example– what do you get the man who has everything for Christmas?
Your brain started kicking this thought around at the beginning of October. Last year, you’d crocheted him a sweater– a sweater, for Christ’s sake. Granted, you’d put extra effort into it and put an Arc Reactor design in the middle of the chest. Tony had practically giggled when he opened it and had pulled it on right away. Sure, he’d liked it, but you couldn’t give him another sweater.
You were watching television in bed one night, waiting for Tony to emerge from his workshop. While he tried desperately to get you to stick to the streaming platforms (he had all of them– top tier, no ads, no buffering thanks to his high-speed internet), sometimes you wanted that reminiscent feeling of watching something on cable, flipping through the channels.
You began to analyze the commercials that played, trying to find something to get Tony for Christmas. A new car? He didn’t drive himself, despite the 15 cars he had in the massive garage below Stark Tower. A new phone or laptop? Useless, thanks to JARVIS and all of Tony’s other inventions. A cruise? Tony would probably rather buy his own yacht and not have to be around other people.
You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear him come into the bedroom. You jumped slightly as the mattress dipped down beside you. The spicy scent of Tony’s cologne (with just a hint of motor oil underneath) tickled your nose as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you towards his chest.
“Hi, Tony,” you said, eyes still stuck on the screen. Maybe you could just drain the Olympic-sized pool and fill it with Reese’s cups– that certainly wasn’t something he already had. And surely some of the other Avengers would like it, too (you could practically see Thor jumping off the diving board into the sea of orange wrappers).
“Hi, princess.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “What’re you watching?”
You had to think about it– what had you originally been watching before getting swept up in the advertisements? “Scream.”
“Haven’t you seen that like, six times?”
“More like twenty-six.”
“Good.” Tony swiped the remote from the side table and clicked the television off, plunging you both into darkness. “Then you won’t mind turning your attention to me, instead.” In a fluid move, Tony rolled himself on top of you, his lips finding your neck.
“Tony,” you said with a faux whine. “I was watching that.”
“Mm,” Tony hummed against your collarbone. “I promise this will be much more exciting than some silly little horror movie.”
And it was. Every night with Tony was… electric (no pun intended). That man knew his way around your body like he’d created the blueprint for it himself.
Neither of you knew it at the time, but you were about to solve the question of what to get him for Christmas.
It was Thanksgiving. While the rest of your so-called found family was in the kitchen preparing for the feast, you were in the bathroom, staring at a plastic stick.
Pregnant.
The word was clear as day in the little window, leaving no room for miscommunication.
It wasn’t as if you’d been trying for a baby. Then again, it wasn’t as though you were trying not to have one. But you and Tony had never discussed the idea of having a baby. Did he even want to be a father? Sure, he had money enough for all the resources to adequately raise a child, but did he want a miniature version of himself running around, getting into everything, breaking things, and generally causing chaos?
And you… you’d never really envisioned yourself as a mother. Even in nursery school, when the other little girls were playing house, you were more likely to pick up a stuffed animal over a baby doll.
But now, here you were. And in less than nine months, you were going to officially become a mother (if you didn’t choose an alternative route, that is).
You were going to have a baby. You were going to have Tony’s baby. And that final thought put a smile on your face. You and Tony, mixed together in one tiny human being.
You knew you needed to talk to him about it, to make sure he wouldn’t want you to give it up. But here, in this bathroom, holding that plastic stick in your hand, you started to feel that first spark of excitement.
“Y/N?” A knock at the door broke you from your reverie. “You okay? Don’t tell me you’re getting sick. You haven’t even had any of Clint’s cooking yet.”
“Shut up, Tony! I’m a good cook!” Clint’s voice sounded from down the hall.
“Fine,” you called. “Just… fixing my hair. Be out in a second.” You wrapped the pregnancy test in a wad of toilet paper and shoved it carefully into the box of tampons under the sink (fully recognizing the irony). You’d have to find a secret way to dispose of the test fully– none of the Avengers were snoops, per se, but they were hypervigilant. And this… this needed to stay secret. For now.
You opened the bathroom door, finding Tony standing there, waiting for you. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Fine!” Was it your imagination, or was he staring at your stomach? You knew there was no way you were showing yet, but again, hypervigilant. “Come on.” You wrapped your arm around Tony’s and took a step towards the dining room. “What culinary concoction has Clint come up with?”
“Deep-fried turkey. He says it’s way better than regular turkey.”
“Does he still have his eyebrows?” You’d heard horror stories of holiday deep-frying going extremely wrong.
“Far as I could tell. And to his credit, it does smell good. But deep-fried nonsense is supposed to exist only at county fairs, not on the Thanksgiving table.”
“You’re just salty no one wanted shawarma,” you said with a laugh.
“We practically made that an American delicacy! Do you know how much business they gained after our endorsement? Plus, they offered to cater any event for us for free!”
As secretly as you could, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment. They confirmed your pregnancy and gave you a due date in the middle of July (you were extremely thankful it wasn’t earlier– you could only imagine how annoyed Tony would be if his child was born on the 4th of July, a day more closely associated with Steve than him).
You kept trying to find an opportune time to talk to Tony about the pregnancy, but nothing ever seemed right. You knew you were only delaying the inevitable– eventually, you would start to show, or JARVIS would find the fetus during a body scan (Tony had him run these on everyone occasionally, just to make sure nothing was wrong). Hell, one of the other Avengers might sniff it out somehow.
And then, one day, as you were passing a store window, an idea hit you. Sure, it wasn’t really talking about the issue, but it would lead to it? You went inside and perused the offerings, picking out the perfect items.
Later that evening, you carefully hung the 3 stockings on the wall above the head of the bed– a regular-sized red one over Tony’s pillow, a regular-sized blue one over yours, and finally, a tiny purple one directly in the middle. As you stood back to admire your handiwork, you hoped tonight wouldn’t be a long night in the lab for Tony. What if he worked all night and when he eventually came up, he just collapsed into bed and immediately went to sleep?
“There you are,” Tony’s voice sounded from the doorway. “What’ve you been up to today?” He stepped into the room and over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.
“Just… a little decorating.”
While you couldn’t see if he was looking at the stockings, you assumed your message had registered when you felt Tony stiffen slightly behind you. One of his hands dropped to your stomach, resting there carefully. “Princess,” he said slowly. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
You turned around, looking him in the eye. “I’m… pregnant.” You smiled, hoping he would do the same. Silence stretched between the two of you, his expression frozen, unreadable. “I… Well, I just thought… ‘what do you get the guy who has everything for Christmas’, and… well, you don’t have a baby, so…” It was a terrible joke, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop talking.
Tony studied you for a few moments, his eyes trailing over your face. Slowly, a huge grin spread over his expression. “We’re gonna have a baby?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, not trusting yourself enough to speak, lest something else stupid spring from your mouth.
In the blink of an eye, Tony wrapped his arms around you, twirling you around in a circle. “We’re gonna have a baby!”
“Easy, Tony,” you said with a laugh.
He set you back down, his arms still encircling you. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he said quietly. His eyes dropped to your stomach, one hand snaking down to it. “And this is the best Christmas gift I could have ever hoped for.”
“You’re sure? I mean, this is going to change things for the rest of our lives.”
Tony could see the glint of fear and concern in your eye. “Is it unexpected? Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s not exactly what I’ve always wanted.”
On Christmas Eve, when everyone in the tower was sleeping, Tony crept out to the living room. He scooted all of the stockings down ever so slightly on the mantle, leaving just enough room for him to hang the tiny one from above your bed. He hung it between his and yours, just like you’d done.
The next morning, the group sat around the tree, mugs of coffee and cocoa in hand. A plate of donuts and Christmas cookies was set on a coffee table, fuel for the upcoming tear through the decorative paper. Presents were passed around, delivered to the appropriate person. The floor was soon covered with discarded wrapping paper and everyone was surrounded by a small pile of gifts: new trinkets to play with, new clothes to bundle up in.
“Okay, everyone,” Tony said. “Let’s crack open those stockings so Clint can get started on yet another deep-fried turkey.”
“You said you liked it!”
“It’s still weird.”
Steve stepped over to the mantle and began to unhook each of the stockings. “Hang on. What’s this?”
“What?” Natasha asked.
Steve turned around, his eyes landing on you and Tony, sitting innocently on the couch. He pointed a finger at the small stocking hanging between the two of yours. “That.”
“It looks like a smaller version of the stockings we all have,” Thor said (not so) helpfully.
“What, are you trying to get extra presents?” Clint asked.
“Oh, my God,” Bruce said quietly. His gaze met Tony’s before landing on you. “You’re pregnant.”
“What?!” The entire group spun, eyes landing on the two of you.
Tony turned to you and shrugged. Then, smiling, he turned to the group. “She’s pregnant!”
A rush of noise and excitement filled the air. Tony stood, pulling you up just in time for Natasha to launch herself at you, hugging you tightly. Congratulations were given, alongside hugs for you and hearty slaps on the back for Tony.
“We must celebrate!” Thor said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “The finest ales are required!”
“Y/N can’t have alcohol, Thor,” Steve said. “That’s bad for the baby.”
“Nonsense– my mother drank wine every day, even when pregnant with me. I turned out fine!”
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Bruce said to Tony. “We need to babyproof this entire place. We need to set JARVIS up with the most advanced baby-monitoring software. We need to–”
“Easy, buddy,” Tony said. “Relax. We’ve still got a few months to figure all this out. We’ll get it done, I promise.”
The two of you made eye contact across the room, somehow having been separated by the well-wishers. Tony shot you a wink, a smile. You looked around the room at the strange assortment of people you shared your life with. This time next year, there would be a tiny Starkling for them all to spoil, and you knew they would spoil that child to no end.
Summary: One little mission results in multiple injuries, but ends up being one of the best missions of your life.
Warnings: descriptions of violence, blood and injuries, comedy, sarcasm, banter, reader is friends with Loki and practises magic, swearing, self-sacrificial Steve and reader, small fight, stuttering Stevie, friends to lovers, very soft and fluffy ending
Word Count: 2.4k
A/n: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! I hope you have a fantastic day, whether it be with friends, family, or just the wonderful company you provide yourself with! I hope you enjoy reading this, I had a fun time writing it!
You were out on a simple, in and out mission. Taking down a micro HYDRA base. So, the rest of the team thought two people would be enough to take care of it. Steve volunteered, because of course he did. He's Captain America after all, brave, strong and way too cute. Which is why you were kicking yourself when you drew the short straw. You could've sworn Tony or Nat set it up. They probably did. They were your best friends and the only ones who knew about your little crush, but perhaps the worst people to tell. They constantly tried setting the two of you up or at least making jokes that Steve never got and you responded to with a glare.
You didn't know how but you were sure they set this up too.
You took down the base with next to no issues until you sprained your ankle. Not enough to be too bad but enough that Steve could see something was wrong. Tony told you about a safe-house nearby before the mission and Steve insisted you go there. But of course, it was on top of a mountain, in the snow, that was only getting heavier. You tried to trudge up the hill but you couldn't take much more and Steve could see your limp getting worse, so he did what any other knight in shining white stealth gear would do, and carried you the rest of the way.
Like, actually carried.
One hand under your knees, the other holding your back, proper bridal style.
If it weren't for the burning pain, you'd get flustered.
He rushed through the door and barricaded it behind him as a blizzard was setting in. Wind howled and tress knocked against the old cabin walls. Steve set you down on an armchair and that's when he noticed it, you were shaking. Your lips were even a little blue. He started to light a fire, contemplating how long the limited wood supply would last.
"Steve" Your voice was low, rough from the cold air against your throat "There's-" You coughed "No point, no wood left"
"I can make it last, at least for a little while"
You blinked, snow stuck to your eyelashes "C'mere, please"
He pushed off his knees, striding across the room fast, to your side "What's wrong? Is it your ankle?"
"Can you just, help me up?"
"I think you should rest"
"As much as I ap-preciate your concern doc-doctor Rogers, I'd like to sit up"
He smiled softly at your sarcasm, even when you were hurt you'd always make a joke. It always made him feel better, a soft reassurance that you'd be okay. His hands came to your waist and shoulder, steadying you as you sat up.
"Better?" He asked.
"Yeah" You replied "Ready to run a marathon"
"You wanna hold off until it stops snowing?"
You glanced to the window, seeing white flashes fly by "Might be a while"
His hand came up, flicking some snow out of your hair. You tensed at the sudden contact before melting into it as his hand moved to cup your face, thumb brushing over your icy cheek.
"We'd better get you warmed up" He stood up, wrapping an old blanket around you before going back to the fire.
"What um, what about you? Aren't you c-cold?"
"Not really" He gestured to himself vaguely "Super soldier"
"Right. That serum stuff sounds handy, got any to spare?" You barely laughed.
"No" He replied a little too quick "It um, it got destroyed, you don't want it anyways"
"And why's that? I could be Lady America or whatever the team'd end up calling me. Or are you just afraid of the competition?"
"Yeah. Shaking"
"Ass" You muttered, the smile on your lips betraying you.
"I just mean, it's not as good as it's cracked up to be, you'd be better off how you are now"
"Just a girl?" You couldn't help yourself and put on an over exaggerated tone "Standing, well sitting, in front of a boy" You teared up "Asking him to love me"
"W-what? Yo-"
"Oh, sorry" You brushed it off with a laugh "'s from a movie. If we get out of here, I'll show it to you"
"Right. That'd be, nice"
His attention flew back to the fire, slowly getting it to build up. You curled your fingers around the blanket, hugging it closer around your body. You watched Steve, trying not to drool over the torn section of his suit. You couldn't help the simple smile on your face, or the way it widened every time he looked back at you. After he got the fire going strong, he made his way over to the kitchen, finding an array of unfamiliar items.
"Um," He started "Do you know what a- Nespresso is?"
You laughed lightly "Yeah, give me a hand, I'll show you"
"No it's fine, rest, I'll…figure it out, somehow"
"It's no trouble, I think the cold made my leg numb so even if it hurts, I can't feel it"
"You realize that is not a reassuring sentence, right?"
"I know, but it's startlingly true. Now shut up and help me before I do it myself"
He came to your side, holding your arm as you stood "God, you're stubborn"
"That I am, but you're not much better"
"Hey!" He exclaimed in mock offense "What'd I do?"
"Tell me Captain, how many buildings have you jumped off of in the past month?"
"Those were necessary actions in dangerous situations"
"I would've been there in three seconds one time"
"Three seconds I needed to save lives"
"Oh God, you're gonna get all righteous on me now, aren't you?"
"I'm not righteous"
You gave him a look that said 'Are you actually serious?' and he conceded.
"Fine, but I'm not that righteous"
"You're the most righteous person I know"
"You're friends with Loki, of course I'm the most righteous person you know"
"Hey, Loki's not as bad as people say"
"He killed 80 people in two days"
"Mhm, and how many people have you killed?"
"They were Nazis!"
"Still people Steve" You tsked, hiding your smile as you made two teas, thinking they were the simplest option for your hundred year old friend.
You handed him a mug and took one for yourself as you made your way back to the couch. As you sat down, relieved to take pressure off your ankle, you saw Steve wince.
Steve Rogers does not wince for anything minor.
"Take off you shirt"
"What?" He asked, confused and suddenly flustered.
"You winced, you don't wince. Take off your shirt"
"I'm fine, just, a-a few bruised ribs"
"Steve"
Damn, that tone always got him.
"Fine, just, don't panic"
"Oh yeah, that makes me feel totally calm"
He lifted up his shirt, showing a long, deep stripe of red across his side.
"Steve! How could you not tell me?!"
"You hurt your ankle, you couldn't even walk, I'm fine"
"Okay this 'I'm fine' shit is starting to get annoying, next time you get a window to your spleen carved out, you need to fucking tell me!"
"I heal quickly, I'll be-"
"Don't say it"
"-okay?"
You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed your mug down and moved closer to him. You extended your hands and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as green swirls of light danced around your palms.
"What are you doing?"
"Loki taught me, simple healing magic"
"No! There's no way in hell you're gonna use that on me"
"Why? It's just a heal-"
"No! You're not doing it, end of discussion"
"Oh is that so?" You retreated your hands "You think you can tell me what to do?"
"I am your Captain"
"Oh wow, you're gonna do that"
"I just, don't want that, okay?"
"You could die Steve! I'm trying to help you!"
"I don't need your help!"
"Fine, die, see if I care" You muttered, turning away from him and picking up your mug.
A long silence passed between you before you felt Steve's hand on your shoulder.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to see you get hurt"
"What do you mean? My ankle is alre-"
"Not that. The magic. I saw you practicing with Loki last week and I saw what it did to you. You barely said two words to anyone for the rest of the day and you spent most of it locked up in your room"
"I was just tired, that's all"
"I know, and I don't want you to feel that way again. I care about you"
"Coulda fooled me" You huffed.
"I just carried you up a mountain during a blizzard"
"Eh, I'm sure you'd do that for any Tom, Dick or Harry that hurt themselves"
"Technically I would, the whole hero thing, but you still mean more to me"
"I do?"
He chuckled lightly "Of course you do, don't you see that?"
"I mean, you're nice to me, but you're nice to pretty much everyone. Except Tony"
"Tony's a dick"
"Agreed"
You shared a soft laugh and you turned back to face him properly, that's when your eyes found the growing red spot across his abdomen.
"Steve, just let me seal the cut. I won't be healing you fully so I won't get as tired, just enough to stop the bleeding, okay?"
He sighed, knowing there wasn't much point in arguing with you "Fine, but you stop when I say"
"I stop when you say" You confirmed.
You set your mug down and he lifted his shirt, revealing that the cut was much deeper than you thought. You looked up into his eyes, noticing the faded tone of their usual blue and the darkening underneath. You saw how he just seemed to lay there, much more being too difficult. You saw how he was now and you knew what needed to be done.
Your hands hovered barely an inch away and you closed your eyes as bright green swishes of glowing light curled around your fingers. Particles drifted to the wound and it began to close up instantly. Steve let out a breath of relief as your magic stitched him back together but a look of concern cast across his face as he kept feeling better. His hand found your wrist, his grip firm, a little painful.
"Stop" His voice was hard, laced with anger "Now"
"Almost there" You damn near pleaded, quiet, breathy.
"I told you not t-"
In a second, the magic faded, along with your strength. You fell against him, struggling to take in any air. He reached for you immediately, trying to get a response from you. The last thing you heard as your eyes closed was his voice calling your name, you could tell he was getting louder, panicking, but everything started to soften for you, all noises muting as cold seeped into your bones.
Steve held you for hours, his fingers never left their spot on your neck, making sure your pulse was still there. It was faint, but just enough for him to be able to hope you'd wake up soon. He wrapped any blankets within reach around you and held you tight against his chest, praying you would open your eyes.
By morning, as the sunlight just barely filtered in through the frosted over windows, your eyes flickered open. The first thing you felt was warmth, soft cotton and fleece against your skin, and two arms gripping you tight. You tilted your head up with a strain, every inch of your body feeling heavy. You were met with two icy blue eyes staring down at you.
"You're awake" Disbelief clouded him as he saw you, alive and- well alive.
"Yeah" You croaked out "Did I fall asleep?"
"You don't remember?"
"M-m" You tried to shake your head, he got the gist.
He chuckled lightly, one hand coming up and brushing along your temple before moving down to cup your cheek.
"You healed me and it nearly killed you"
"It did?" Your brain was a mess of fog as you tried to sift through the memories of last night "Did it work?"
"Yes and no" He grinned "We're both okay"
"Oh, that's good, right?"
He couldn't help but laugh again, just glad you were safe "Yeah, yeah it's good"
"Good then" You smiled weakly, resting your head back against his chest, nuzzling into the warmth of him "Y'mind if I stay here for a bit?"
"Not at all"
His hand moved to the back of your head, holding you there, gentle but steady. His thumb passed over in soothing motions and he sighed like he'd been holding his breath ever since you closed your eyes.
"Steve?" You asked, voice quiet.
"Yeah doll?" God that nickname got you every time.
"Are you mad at me? I remember yelling"
"Not right now. Once you get better I'll tear you a new one for risking your life like that" His voice remained as soft as ever.
"Thank you"
You stayed like that for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness but still in Steve's arms the entire time. After a few hours, you woke up a little more, still groggy as all hell, and pressed a small kiss to his arm, about as far as you could reach.
"What's that for?" He asked with a smitten little smile you couldn't quite see.
"You. 'Cause I love you"
"Y-you do?"
"Mhm" You nodded against his chest "Have for a while, no point in hiding it anymore"
"A-and why, um, why's that?"
"Coulda died, wouldn't wanna die without telling you" You looked up just enough to catch his eyes "You don't need to say anything, just wanted you to know"
His hand brought your head up, just enough for him to press a kiss to your lips. It wasn't the kind of kiss that went on for eons or made you struggle for breath, it was the kind of kiss that felt like a promise, a promise of love Steve wouldn't dare to break.
Fandomless Advent Challenge - Your Favourite Grinch
Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Somehow, Bucky Barnes has never seen How The Grinch Stole Christmas, something you plan to remedy.
Warnings: swearing, comedy, suggestive, a bit anti-Christmas Bucky, fluff, teasing banter, Tony being a dick
Word Count: 800
"Oh you are such a…Grinch!" You exclaimed after Bucky grumbled about Christmas for the fourteenth time today.
"A what?"
"Excuse you?"
"What're you talking about, Doll? Is that some kind of modern slang?"
"W- no. It's, a Grinch"
"What's a Grinch?"
"James Buchanan Barnes, have you never seen How The Grinch Stole Christmas?"
"Sweetheart, I was a mind controlled assassin for 70 years, I have a few things to catch up on. So, it's a movie?"
"It's not just a movie! It's one of the best Christmas movies of all time! It's a classic!"
"When did it come out?"
"2000"
"If that's a classic, I'm a fossil"
"Well you are, but that's not the point"
"Fine, make fun of me, just means I won't watch your weird movie"
"No Bucky please! You have to watch it, it's-"
"A classic?"
"Maybe classic was the wrong word, it's so popular that practically everyone's seen it"
"Alright, put it on" He sighed.
"Yay!" You ran to the kitchen to get popcorn and came back with the biggest bowl you could find.
"Think that's a little much?"
"Nope"
"You sharin'?"
"Maybe"
"Oh, is that how it is now?"
"Yep, 's how it is" You grinned as you chucked a piece of popcorn in your mouth.
"C'mon, play the damn movie" He pouted, folding his arms as he fell onto the couch.
You hopped up beside him, gently offering him the bowl as you readied the movie.
"Wait a sec, is there chocolate in this?" He looked at you like you'd just committed a war crime.
"Yeah, red and green m&m's, it's festive"
"It's horrific"
"Oh please, you're just set in your old, old ways"
"You wanna keep that up, Darlin'?" His expression was smug, he knew what that nickname did to you.
"Knock it off, Sergeant" You knew what that nickname did to him.
"And what if I don't?"
"I'll just have to deal with you"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah"
"That a promise?"
"Maybe" You smirked.
He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, turning heated in a second. He pushed you back gently, your head landing against the throw pillows at the end of the couch. Just as his hand reached your waist, the movie loaded and the opening narration started.
"Bucky! You're gonna miss the movie!"
"I'm okay with that"
"I'm not, shift it soldier"
He groaned a little as you pushed him to sit back up. You settled into his side, pulling a blanket over your laps.
"You really like this movie, huh?"
"Yep" You looked up at him with a content little smile.
"Alright, worth a shot"
He relaxed into your warmth, wrapping an arm around you as the movie played, looking down at you with a soft, domestically blissful little smile.
As the movie continued, he had a few questions and comments, which he never once failed to voice.
"What the fuck is a Who?"
"Why's it kinda looks like a green rat-gorilla?"
"Should I be worried about you for liking this?"
"That's not a heart condition, that's an early grave"
"Huh, maybe Stark's a Grinch and he's just got a lot of makeup on"
You hit him lightly for that last one "He probably isn't"
You got through most of the movie and just when you thought Bucky was sick of it, you saw him tear up the slightest bit when the Grinch's heart grew.
"So" You started as the credits rolled "What'd you think?"
"I'm not a Grinch"
"Eh, you kinda are"
"There's no way I'm the Grinch, that'd make you Martha May and you're, a little, less crazy"
You gasped, hinding your smile "You ass!"
He laughed, hands finding your waist "Baby, it was a good movie, I liked it"
"You did?"
"Yeah, the Grinch has a point"
"Bucky"
"Okay, fine, I'll try to be a little more, Christmassy, happy?"
"Extremely. But mainly because now we've watched the movie, we can pick up where we left off earlier"
He grinned, closing the distance between you, smiling into the kiss. In a second, you were in his lap, that Super Solider strength came in pretty handy sometimes.
Your hands found the hem of his sweater when you heard loud clattering behind you.
"Hey Y/n, nice ass" Tony smirked, to be fair, he was right and he had a great view from where he stood.
"Damn it Stark-" Bucky grumbled, moving to punch him, before you stopped him.
"Don't bother, his heart is already two sizes too small"
You both snickered as Tony's brow furrowed "What're you two laughing about?"
"Nothing"
"School children" He mumbled as he walked off.
You leaned in close to Bucky's ear, whispering "You're definitely my favourite Grinch"
He placed a kiss to your temple, guiding you upstairs with a certain look in his eyes.
Turns out, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas was a pretty good idea.
Summary: You're sick, Sam's lovesick, how painfully sweet can the two of you be?
Warnings: swearing, fluff so tooth rotting and cheesy you'd need to go to the fuckin' doctor, sick reader, loverboy Sammy, pre-established relationship, implied small!reader, no use of Y/n
Word Count: 600
A/n: Thank you @thatoneweirdocreature for this idea. It's so fucking sweet I can't stand it.
You were high as fuck.
On cold medicine.
What'd you think???
Your nose was sniffly and you were consistently freezing cold despite the fact that you were swaddled up in a huge fluffy blanket.
Then in came your saviour.
Sam, with one of his baggiest hoodies.
"Hey Honey" He cooed softly, his hand coming up to rest against your forehead "You feelin' any better?'
"No" You croaked, shaking your head as you damn near pawwed at the jumper.
He tried to hold in his laughter as you tried to tug the hoodie on over your blanket.
"Here, let me help"
He swiftly un-swaddled you and slipped the hoodie over you, doing his absolute best not to laugh at the way the hood fell over your face. He gently flicked it back and you stared at him with the most lovesick - emphasis on sick - expression in the world. You tugged his arm down and he sat on the couch next to you, lifting your hot pink fuzzy sock clad feet into his lap. His expression turned from puppy love to slightly hurt confusion when you pulled away suddenly, that was until you flipped in a second, sending an uncomfortable rush to your head but not caring one little bit.
You rested your head in his lap, gazing up at him with a ridiculous grin.
"What're you staring at?" He asked through a barely surprised laugh, he really shouldn't laugh, you were sick, but you were just so damn adorable like this.
"You" Your grin widened, if that were even possible "You're so pretty"
"I-" He malfunctioned for a split second before bursting out in a fit of laughter "B-baby, you're high"
"High on you" You pointed to his chest, laughing along with him though you weren't quite sure why.
"Is that so?"
"Mhm. Your love is my drug"
"Well then I'm surprised you have't OD'd yet"
"Me too" You whisper-yelled the next part "Maybe I am, right now!"
"Maybe" He smiled down at you, fingers scratching gently against your scalp.
"Hm, love you Sammy" You murmured as sleep started to pull you under.
"Love you too" He leant down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
He stayed there with you for a while until he was 100% sure you were asleep, knowing how hard it had been for you to get a decent nights sleep over the past few days. He picked up the TV remote, turning off whichever Real Housewives Love Island Kitchen was on, or whatever the show was called, that had been playing in the background as you binged it together all day.
He carefully cradled your legs and back under his arms, carrying you to bed as you nuzzled further into his chest.
He passed Dean on the way.
"Hey Sa-" Dean started, ready to give Sam shit for being whipped.
"Shhh" He mouthed his words "Sleeping. Fuck. Off"
"Damn, okay" Dean muttered, holding up his hands in self defense.
Sam took you into his room, precariously lifting the covers and laying you down in his bed. He climbed in beside you, pressing another kiss to your forehead as he laid down.
Hours passed, maybe weeks with the way you were out. You woke up feeling substantially warmer on one side of your body, that's when you turned your head. Sam had his face buried in your neck, one arm curled just a little tight around your waist, hair floppy and all over his face. You smiled, snuggling that little bit further into him. You pressed a kiss to his hand, muttering a sleepy;
You leaned against the Impala, shivering slightly. The cold had stayed away surprisingly long, but yesterday it had arrived with a vengeance. So while Sam and Dean investigated a nearby house (supposedly infested with ghouls), you stood guard, making sure no unexpected guests arrived and surprised any of you.
Cas stood next to you, studying the nearby houses. “I don’t understand,” he finally said, squinting in the darkness.
“D-don’t understand wh-what?” You clamped your teeth together to get them to stop chattering.
“The Lord’s birth was not until Spring. And neither Mary nor Joseph looked like that. And there were no camels.”
You turned, wondering what in the hell the angel was talking about. There, across the street, was a blow-mold display of the manger. Soft light poured out of plastic figurines depicting Joseph, Mary, and their infant son, surrounded by barnyard animals. It was actually kind of impressive how many pieces were involved. “It’s j-just a d-decoration, C-cas.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
Neither did most things people did in the name of religion, but you weren’t about to touch that. “J-just st-stop looking at it, th-then. L-Look…” You untucked one of your arms, pointing at another neighboring house. “Over th-there. Sn-snowmen and r-reindeer. No p-problems with that, r-right?”
Cas looked in the direction you pointed. “Why are the reindeer attached to a sleigh?”
“Oh, m-my g-god,” you said, more to yourself than the angel. “I’ll t-teach you all ab-about Ch-christmas w-when we g-get b-b-back to the b-bunker.”
Cas finally turned his attention to you. “You’re cold.”
“No sh-shit, Sh-sherlock.”
The angel slipped out of his trenchcoat and carefully draped it over your shoulders. You hated to admit it, but it was drastically warmer– especially since it still held some of his body heat. You pulled the sides of the coat tighter around you. “How m-much longer do you th-think–”
Your statement was cut short by a piercing shriek erupting from the house the Winchesters were in.
Back at the bunker, you made a steaming mug of cocoa and wrapped yourself in as many blankets as you could find. You were finally beginning to feel warm when there was a knock on your door. “Yeah?”
Cas opened the door and stood in the doorway, looking like a slightly lost child. “I… you said you would teach me about Christmas… is now…?”
You smiled at the angel. Loosening your blanket cocoon slightly, you grabbed your laptop from the bedside table. As you woke the device up, you patted the mattress next to you. Cas tentatively sat beside you.
“Do you remember anything from Jimmy’s experiences?”
“A large decorated tree. Wrapped boxes beneath it. A candlelit church service.” He paused. “I know the holiday season is supposedly about Christ’s birth, but–”
“Yeah, yeah, he wasn’t born in the winter, I remember.”
Cas nodded. “I’ve seen the decorations, I’ve heard the songs. I understand that they represent the season. I just don’t know… why.”
Well, that made things a bit more difficult. Instead of just saying ‘This is Frosty’, you now needed to explain why Frosty was a thing. “Well… most of it doesn’t have a lot of reason, Cas. They’re connected to Christmas because… they just are.” You hit a few keys, opening up a video. “Like this.”
“‘Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer’,” Cas read from the screen. “Reindeer do not have–”
“I know, Cas, I know. Just… watch.” And so, the two of you spent the next hour watching the tiny claymation animal do his best to assist Santa. You could practically feel the questions turning in the angel’s mind, but he didn’t ask them.
The movie ended and you let the silence sit between you. “So,” Cas finally said. “Reindeer are associated with Christmas because people think they can fly and use a lighted nose to see through fog?”
“People don’t really think that, Cas. It’s just a story.”
“And because of their fictional abilities, they work for the fictional man who delivers presents?”
“Well… yeah.”
The angel nodded. “Birds would have been a better option. They can actually fly.”
“Yeah, but where’s the whimsy in that?” You scrolled to another video. “Now this is Frosty. He’s a snowman that comes to life.”
“Ah. Because there is often snow at Christmas time.”
Despite the short length of Frosty, you found yourself nearly nodding off a few times during it. As it wrapped up, you pulled a small notebook and a pen out of the nightstand drawer. You began to scrawl out names of popular cartoon Christmas specials.
“Here,” you said, handing your laptop and the notebook to Cas. “Homework.”
“Homework?”
“You don’t sleep, right? So, you can watch all of these tonight.” You yawned slightly. “And I’ll answer any questions in the morning.”
“Oh.” The angel carefully stood and clutched your computer to his chest. “Thank you. I… I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
You were already stretched out, wrapped back up in a partial cocoon. “G’night, Cas.”
Dean found Cas in the library the next morning. “What are you doing?”
“Homework.”
“What?”
“Y/N had me watch animated Christmas stories all night.” The angel cocked his head to the side. “Realistically, they do not make sense. But I suppose they are enjoyable.”
“Let me guess– Rudolph? Frosty? How the Grinch Stole Christmas?”
“That one in particular didn’t really make sense. I have never heard of anything called a ‘grinch’ or a ‘who’.”
“Come on.” Dean pulled Cas up from his chair.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re gonna watch some real Christmas movies. None of that cartoon crap.” Dean led the angel into the living room. The angel sat on the couch while Dean collapsed into his armchair. The hunter grabbed the remote and began to type in a title.
“‘Home Alone’?” Cas cocked his head to the side. “But that goes against what the other movies say– that you are supposed to be around people you love during Christmas.”
“Don’t get your feathers all in a twist. It’s funny.”
By the time you emerged from your room, Dean had started the sequel (“It’s not as good,” he’d warned Cas. “Sequels are never as good as the original.”). He was having a grand old time, laughing like a child at the traps Macaulay Culkin was setting. Even Sam was chuckling. Cas, however, looked even more confused than he normally did.
“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Dean said. He and his brother might’ve been early risers, but you preferred to sleep until the sun was fully up in the sky, not just peeking over the horizon. “Cas here said you’re showing him all the classic Christmas movies. ‘Course, you’re only showing him the cartoons– Sammy and I will show him the rest.”
Sam looked up, eyes wide. He didn’t necessarily hate Christmas movies, but he certainly hadn’t intended on being roped into whatever this was.
“What else are you showing him?”
Dean ticked off each title on his fingers. “A Christmas Story, Christmas Vacation, Die Hard–”
“Don’t confuse him even more, Dean. That’s hardly–”
“Gremlins,” the hunter said, pushing past your argument.
“That’s even worse!”
“Gizmo was literally a Christmas present, Y/N!”
You rolled your eyes before turning to Sam. “And what are your contributions?”
“Uh… A Christmas Carol?”
“That’s more like it. Which version?”
Sam considered this, slightly fearful of giving the wrong answer. “Whichever you want?”
“Muppets it is.” You headed out of the living room.
“Hey, where are you going?” Dean called. “I thought we were watching Christmas movies!”
You poked your head back into the room. “We’re going to need provisions if we’re couch potato-ing all day. First round– bacon and eggs.”
Dean couldn’t argue with the promise of food. “Just don’t burn the bacon this time.”
“Good point.” You stepped back in and gently shoved Dean out of his chair. “You’re better at it. You go make breakfast.”
The hunter grumbled but headed for the kitchen. You settled on the couch between Sam and Cas. You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over your knees. It was large enough that you could drape it over both men’s knees as well.
“I’m not cold, Y/N,” Cas began.
“Doesn’t matter. Blankets make Christmas movies that much more cozy. They’re basically a requirement.”
The angel looked over at Sam, who simply shook his head– he knew there was no arguing with you.
The entire day was spent just like that– movie after movie, snack after snack. You occasionally glanced over at Cas, trying to gauge whether he liked the movies or not. Sometimes, his head was cocked to the side, a slight furrow in his brow– what you’d come to think of as his typical expression. But sometimes, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. Maybe he didn’t fully understand, but at least he was enjoying himself.
Later that evening, when the group finally disbanded, you heard a small knock on your bedroom door. You once again found the angel standing in the doorway.
“Thank you for showing me the Christmas movies. I… still don’t understand some of them, but I liked watching them with you.”
“Anytime, Cas. Christmas movies are one of the best parts of the holiday season!”
He was quiet for a moment. “Can… we watch them again next year?”
Summary: You get Dean the one thing in life he wants, making him realises he just might want one more.
Warnings: very little swearing, fluff, fluff with feels, a little bit lovesick Dean, Dean Winchester feels things™, slightly bittersweet, very nostalgic
Word Count: 2k
A/n: This is officially one of my favourite Dean fics yet,I hope you enjoy!
You had some emergency cash hidden away. The hunting life didn't exactly provide security, so it was nice to have a back up plan. You intended on using it when shit hit the fan and you needed a new identity, but a vintage car is just as good.
You called up every dealership, you looked through online listings, you did everything you could to find a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Why'd he have to have a car that was this hard to find?
You ended up going to the shadiest looking place you'd ever seen, with your "job" - hunt counts as a job, right? - that really meant something. You went in, gun on your hip, blade in your jacket pocket, just in case. You walked through a creaky old door and met a man called "The Duke", totally not worrying, at all.
He showed you the car, a beat up old thing but at least it had the bare bones, literally, the chassis what exposed in multiple spots, but hey, a completely intact car cost a fortune so this'd have to do.
You exchanged money and keys, apparently it could be driven but you weren't so sure. And The Duke never tried to kill you, not once. Overall a pretty good day.
You spent the next couple of months fixing up the remnants of a car. You actually got it in pretty good condition. You had an old photo of Dean leaning up against Baby - purely for automobile restoration purposes - and the car before you looked like a damn carbon copy.
You got in, turned the key and it even had the same purr as Baby. The gravel and dirt crunched under the brand new tires as you pulled up to the bunker. You couldn't exactly work on it in the garage there so you found an old, abandoned place, hidden away just enough to keep your special project safe.
You pulled out a giant, obnoxious red bow, placing it on the hood. The perfect final touch.
The old door creaked loud as you entered the bunker. You searched through the rooms before finding Dean in his bedroom, listening to his favourite Zeppelin tape, the scratched chrome "Chevrolet" sitting on his bedside table.
You tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up, seeing you standing above him with a grin and a blindfold in your hand.
"You plannin' on doin' some Fifty Shades of Grey stuff or-"
You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours "Just come with me"
He stood up and you tied the blindfold around his eyes "You're not gonna embarrass me in front of the whole school, are you?"
"Not telling" You grinned, though he couldn't see, and grabbed his hand again.
You led him down the hallway, up the stairs and out the door.
You took a deep breath before speaking, hoping you hadn't just done the equivalent of getting someone a puppy after their dog died.
"Okay, so, I know it's not the same and it will never be the same but, I don't know, I thought it might cheer you up a little"
"Can you just tell me what it is? The anticipation is killing me" He joked, though his voice was a little smaller than usual, it had been for months.
You pulled the blindfold off slowly, as it fell from his face, his eyes scanned the area in front of him, spotting his precious Baby. He turned to you, eyes flicking from you to the car. His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out.
"Is that- h-how? Baby?"
"Not quite" You replied "Baby was, beyond repair, so I found this. I know it's not Baby and it never will be but-" You reached into your pocket, pulling out an old knife and handing it to him "I thought it might be a decent consolation prize"
He took the knife from your hand, fingers lingering against your skin, face unreadable.
"Sam'll be here in a few, I thought you two might be able to make it your own"
His lips were slightly parted, deep green eyes boring into yours.
"I-I'm sorry if it's wrong, I just-"
Silence fell over you when you felt Dean's arms wrap around you. He squeezed you tight, his head resting against your neck as he caged you in, lifting you off the ground slightly.
"You like it?" You asked in a squeak, slightly suffocated.
"I love it, Sweetheart. Thank you"
He finally let you go once he heard the door creak open as Sam stepped out, a surprised expression taking over his face.
"Is that-"
"Baby!" Dean replied "Almost, next best thing" He grinned, walking over to his brother, knife in hand "Whaddya say Sammy? Wanna make her feel like home?"
"Sounds great" Sam smiled, glad to see his brother happy, actually happy, for the first time in months. God Dean loved that car, maybe a little too much.
They stepped over to the car, and spotted the wood, apart from the clean finish, it looked the exact same as it did in the original Baby. You spent enough years in that car to know your way around. You smiled as they reached in, carving their initials into the wood. You turned around, wanting to leave them to have their moment when Dean called out your name.
"Where're you goin'?"
"I just thought you'd wanna have your-" You cleared your throat, suppressing a laugh "-broment"
"Well now you ruined it" Dean joked, walking towards you with a smile.
He took your hand, placing the handle of the knife in it.
"What's this for?" You asked, confused as he just continued to smile.
He let out a soft, breathy laugh, taking your hand and leading you over to the car. You glanced at their initials, finally connecting the dots.
"No, really?"
"Of course, this car's for family"
You smiled widely, starting to scratch your initials under theirs. Dean looked down at you, seeing you clearly for what felt like the first time. Baby was always so special to him because she was his home, but for the first time, he realised he didn't need her, because you were his home. And you always would be.
Sam looked over to Dean and rolled his eyes at his brother's lovesick expression. He leaned down, close enough that you wouldn't hear.
"Would you just say something already?"
"W- say what?"
Sam groaned "C'mon, it's obvious"
"Really? I thought I was hidin' it pretty well"
"Please. It's also obvious the feeling's mutual"
"Y-you really think so?"
"Oh my God, say something or I will"
Just then, you pulled back, admiring the carvings.
"Okay" Sam started, clapping his brother on the shoulder "I've gotta get back to my research but why don't you two go for a drive? Christen the new car"
"Christen? Really Sammy?" Dean replied.
"Whatever you wanna call it, I just think it might be a good idea"
"Sounds like fun" You replied cheerily "If that's alright with you Dean"
"Uh, o-of course. Let's um, yeah, let's go"
You climbed into the car and Dean's face lit up as he smoothed his hands over the steering wheel, God she really was Baby. You leaned over, pressing play on the 8-track and Carry On Wayward Son played over the speakers. Dean looked at you and you couldn't help the little smirk that kept onto your face. The look you shared could only be classified as a stand off, then Dean caved. Of course he did. In seconds you were playing duelling air guitars and drum kits
You drove around for a while, until it started to get dark. Dean never stopped smiling the entire time. Your eyes started to droop and as you adjusted in your seat, you felt a lump in your coat pocket.
"Oh" You muttered "I almost forgot"
"Forgot what Sweetheart?"
"This" You grinned presenting him with a small box decorated with a matching red bow to the Impala.
"Another present? What's in there, a mini Baby?" He chuckled "Oh my God, is it a mini Baby?!"
"Open it and find out"
He took the box as he pulled over by the side of the road. His face froze when he opened it.
"Is that okay? I-I remembered the story you told me and I thought it- it's bad, isn't it?"
"No" He turned to look at you, the slightest shine across his eyes.
His smile was strange, a little sad, a little loving. He pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, his grip tight, like he was afraid to let go.
"Thank you" The sincerity in his voice hit you, that and the slight crack to it.
You pulled back, looking into his eyes, a darker green than usual "Dean, you okay?It's just-"
"It's perfect. This, Baby, like you know me inside and out"
"Well I've been with you, Sam and Cas for years now, you'd hope I'd remember something"
"You remember everything. No one's ever cared about me like that, so thank you"
"Dean I-" You didn't finish your sentence, you couldn't really.
You looked down at the little green army man in his hand as his thumb passed over it. Your fingers brushed across his as you looked back up, pressing a feather-light, lingering kiss on his cheek as your voice turned to a whisper.
"Merry Christmas Dean"
As you started to pull away, you felt him lean into you. You smiled softly as you readjusted yourself in the seat, pressing your side up against his arm, fingers curling around his bicep.
"'s cold" You murmured, your face so close that your lips brushed the sleeve of his faded leather jacket.
"Yeah, it is" He agreed, his palm moving to your leg, resting atop in, firm and warm, a constant comfort on he cold winter's night.
He pulled back onto the road, turning around to head back to the bunker as you spotted a white freckle land on the windscreen. It was followed by another, and another. Soon, a soft flurry of snowflakes spanned across the upcoming view. You felt a bite of cold creep onto you and you sat up, much to Dean's dismay, though he didn't say anything.
"What're you doing?" He asked, voice low and rough like it always was on cold nights.
You leaned over and into the back, pulling out an old, slightly ratty blanket "Just grabbing this"
"Is that-"
"Bobby's. Only thing I got out of there before the fire"
"Hm" Dean half-smiled "God, that thing's gotta be twenty years old, at least"
"Really?"
"Yeah, I remember me and Sam arguing over who was hogging it more when we were kids. Bobby used to let us watch old movies on his couch when dad was out on hunts and left us with him, nearly forgot"
You unfolded the blanket, spreading it onto Dean's lap, well, as much of it as you could.
"I can see why, 's pretty small"
"That's the beauty of it, Darlin'" He smirked, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in closer "Means you gotta get real cozy"
"Good blanket" You murmured, burrowing into his side.
"Yeah, good blanket"
He kept on driving through the snow for a while before making it back to the bunker. You'd drifted off at some point and Dean didn't have the heart to move you so he just switched the ignition off and looked back down at you, smiling like a lovesick idiot. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his tone low, bringing out that little Kansas drawl of his.
Summary: The bar has eggnog for a dollar, and the Winchesters are thirsty
CW: drinking, implied black out drunkenness'
Day 14 of @fandomless-advent-challenge advent!!
I love shenanigans
you can read this here or on AO3 here!
divider by @diviniyae
The night was young, and Sam and Dean had had a successful hunt. By successful, they hadn’t died, gotten someone else killed, or gained too many bodily injuries. They decided to celebrate by going to a shitty bar, no different from any other time.
The place was standard, run down, mildly shady, and definitely not up to code, but it would do. They sat down at the bar top looking over the area out of instinct. A poorly hung string of lights dully flickered behind the counter, an old jukebox played a worn out tune, practically begging to be put out of its misery, but the crowd was lively. They could tell they came to this place less for the drinks and more for the community.
“Why howdy boys, would I be able to interest you in our dollar eggnog, it’s our special for tonight.” The bartender said with a wink.
Dean and Sam looked at each other knowing bad decisions would be made tonight. The motel they were staying in was just across the street, and Baby was parked safely in its parking lot. Who cared how much they drank, they would be perfectly fine with getting back to the motel.
Sunlight streamed through the broken blinds of the room hitting Sam directly in the face. He squinted as he opened his eyes, a pounding headache coursing through him. He was still in his clothes from yesterday. He was somehow missing a shoe and a sock, but not on the same foot. His shirt was covered in….glitter? He brushed some off of him looking over to Dean’s bed for an explanation when he spotted it.
In the corner of the room was a seven-foot-tall fully decorated Christmas tree. It sparkled radiantly in the morning sun, ornaments showing a rainbow of colors. Sparkling ribbons jutted from within the branches weaving between the bulbs of white light. Underneath the tree had to have been the ugliest tree skirt Sam had ever seen. It was a mix between plaid, stripes, and velvet. It was also glittery, but lacked a distinct shine, instead looking almost like sand paper.
“What the hell did you do?” A tired Dean muttered out in complete horror.
“What did I do? What did you do?” An equally perplexed Sam responded.
“I’m not the one covered in glitter!”
“Dean, you have more on you than the tree does!”
Dean glanced over his disheveled look. He shone brighter than the tacky off-orange star that sat on top of the tree.
“How did we even get this shit up here?”
“Where did we even find a goddamn tree?” Sam questioned.
“Baby!” Dean yelled as he sprang out of bed running to check on his precious car.
Sam quickly ran after him, afraid that if Dean found his car even slightly damaged, he would do something drastic. He hauled ass down four flights of stairs, taking special note of the trail of pine tree needles leading back up to the room. He flung open the door, and to his surprise, and gratefulness, Baby hadn’t moved an inch. By the looks of her, she hadn’t even been touched since Dean and him left her yesterday.
Dean was examining over every inch to make sure nothing happened. He then popped the trunk, worried that in whatever black out Sam and he were in last night they had done something stupid. Thankfully, like everything else, nothing had changed.
“The tree wasn’t here.” Dean stated simply.
“Trees don’t fall from the sky Dean, we had to have gotten it from somewhere.”
Suddenly a voice called out from behind them. “You’re the boys who won karaoke last night aren’t you!” It was the bartender who’d told them about the special. “Suppose you wouldn’t remember that, you two were out cold!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Asked Dean.
“Oh so I was right!” The bartender laughed. “Today's Christmas Day, we always give away a tree on Christmas Eve to the winner of our holiday karaoke. By some miracle you boys won, watched you drag the damn thing back to the motel myself!”
There was a beat of silence. Through a hazy memory Dean remembered singing something extremely offkey. He could make out the form of Sam singing alongside him with that stupid grin. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what they sang, part of him doesn’t want to know.
“Y’all sang that one song – what was it – oh right! It was Last Christmas by that one band…what was it?” The bartender said with a shit eating smile.
“Wham! It’s by Wham!” Sam started rubbing his temple.
“That’s right, now you boys have a merry Christmas, and good luck with that hangover!”
Then the bartender left, leaving the two men in a state of quiet, yet mortifying, understanding.
Day 13 of @fandomless-advent-challenge advent!!
I am actually going insane over these two
you can read this here or on AO3 here!
divider by @diviniyae
A plastic piece of mistletoe hung over the door to the basement in the Wheeler household. It was off-green, covered in glitter, and smelled like dust, but every year they put the tiny thing back in its spot. When January 2nd rolled around and all the festivities were done they would put it back into an old yellow tote alongside the other decorations.
Will remembered loving it when he was a kid. Back then everything was still filled with holiday magic, and the mistletoe seemed like the embodiment of it all. He was there the first year they had hung it up, when it was still shiny and new. He and Mike had no clue what love really was yet, only that it was gross watching people kiss, which they would make very clear through their grimaces.
All that was before the sight of Christmas lights filled Will with dread. Before everything went to hell, including himself. Before he watched people bleed out in front of him. Before he wished he and Mike were the ones under the mistletoe. Now the holiday was always a footnote in whatever tragedy they were writing that year, and he would have to keep dreaming.
Things had been quiet this year. No attacks, no disappearances, no visions or goosebumps, just a normal December. Life had started to go normally. Not back to normal, none of them could do that anymore, but they could pretend for a bit. Mike had invited Will over to just hang out. It was something they hadn’t had time for in a long while, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Will was rather excited, he knew why he was, but he chose to ignore it; Mike was his friend and that was it.
Will arrived at the Wheeler household, trying to not look like the doorbell might bite him. The door opened before he even had a chance to knock.
“Will!” Mike said enthusiastically. “It’s freezing out there, get inside!”
Will didn’t argue with Mike as he was playfully pulled inside, nor when Mike practically stole his old coat from him. However, with every touch from Mike his skin felt like it was setting on fire. He could feel his cheeks flushing, which he hoped passed for just being cold. Will was so distracted he almost didn’t hear Mike talking to him.
“I thought we could make hot cocoa later, I got the ingredients and stuff, well Nancy did but that’s besides the point.” Mike said as he walked towards the basement. “It’s only us here tonight, my mom and dad are out at some Christmas party, Holly’s at a friend's house, and well Nancy’s at your place so we don’t have to worry about any of them.”
Mike continued to talk as he walked down the basement stairs, however Will didn’t follow, instead stopping just before the door and staring up at the old mistletoe. He and Mike had been standing under it together for just a second, but the thought consumed his entire mind.
“Will, you good man?” Mike called up from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yeah! Sorry, I just thought I saw a spider or something.” Will said before hurrying down the steps.
They didn’t do much for a while, just sat around playing video games, making jokes at the others’ expense, and simply enjoying the others' presence. It was almost peaceful, that would be if Will couldn’t hear his heartbeat every time Mike moved closer to him. It wasn’t his fault, it’s not like he wanted this. Will had done everything in his power to try to forget about it. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his stupid crush on Mike Wheeler would never go away.
“We should get hot cocoa now, I’m freezing!” Mike said, standing up from the couch, and offering a hand to Will who was sitting on the floor.
Will hesitantly took Mike’s hand hating how comfortable it felt on his own. “Y-yeah sure I could have hot chocolate.”
To Will’s horror Mike didn’t let go of his hand as he dragged him upstairs. They passed under the mistletoe, which Will couldn’t help but stare at for a second, and into the Wheeler’s kitchen. Mike finally let go of Will’s hand to search for ingredients.
“You said Nancy bought this stuff?” Will asked, trying to get his mind to focus on anything but what just happened.
“Yeah. It was supposed to be for her and Jonathan.” Mike said, rummaging through the pantry. “But then they didn’t make any so I’m stealing it for us!”
“Won’t she be mad?”
“Probably.” Mike shrugged while putting water on to boil.
Will shook his head and looked around the kitchen. It had barely changed since he was a kid. The bright orange countertops had gained a few new scratches and one of the cabinets had a small dent in it, but it was still the same as his childhood. Will kept looking around until his eyes yet again landed back onto the lonely mistletoe over the door. It was like the thing had hypnotized him. It was ugly as sin, and looked like the best home for it would be the dumpster, yet Will couldn’t stop thinking about it.
His mind was only drawn back to reality when Mike handed him his mug.
“Mom tried to get rid of that thing this year.” Mike said, gesturing to the mangled mistletoe. “Holly insisted we kept it.”
“Haven’t you guys had it forever?”
“I think we got it back when I was in kindergarten, so the equivalent of forever.”
Will snickered at the thought as he followed Mike back down to the basement. As they passed under the doorway, Will could have sworn that Mike hesitated for a fraction of a second. He hoped desperately it was true, but even if it was, it was most likely because he forgot something.
What happened over the next few hours was suspicious to Will. Seemingly every thirty minutes Mike would come up with an idea that would require them to go back up the stairs - back under the stupid mistletoe. It was hard to not read into anything after the 3rd time Mike stopped and said he’d forgotten something. On the 4th time up the stairs Will stopped Mike.
“Are you going to forget something again?”
“What? I haven’t – What are you talking about?” Mike stuttered.
“Yes you have, we’d spend maybe five minutes downstairs before we would go back up!” Will joked.
“I just, I don’t know.” Mike smiled.
That’s when Will remembered where they were standing. He and Mike — the boy he is deeply, hopelessly in love with — are standing under the mistletoe. Every fiber in Will’s body was screaming at him, but he could not shift expressions. Mike could not know how he felt. All Will had to do was not look up, keep eye contact and not look up.
It was simple.
Then Will glanced up.
Suddenly, a pair of soft lips crashed into him and the world erupted. For a second Will didn’t kiss back, in fact he didn’t even breathe. Then electricity flowed through him like he held both ends of a wire on his tongue. He gently kissed him – him – back. He could taste the sweetness of the hot chocolate still on his lips. The tiny scar on his bottom lip burned into his own. Mike pulled away first.
“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that – I mean I don’t regret it but, I, I should have asked.”
With a surge of confidence Will pulled Mike back into another passionate kiss. Hands slowly found their way around each other, tangling themselves in the other's curls. It burned like the warmth of a candle in the middle of winter. They pulled away for air, resting their foreheads against each other.
After a minute Mike quietly asked. “So what now?”
Will didn’t have an answer. It was the 80s, what could they do?
Midwest winters were brutal. Inches of snow on top of sheets of ice made travel difficult. The skies rarely held a hint of blue, making the world feel like it had been swallowed up by a field of grey. The sun (when it could be seen) sank below the horizon earlier and earlier, the nights seemingly getting darker and darker as December trickled by. And the cold was downright biting.
Eddie sprinted across the nearly empty parking lot as fast as he thought was safe (he still slipped once or twice). Finally, he made it to his van. He threw himself in and turned the key, praying that the engine would turn over. Thankfully, the vehicle rumbled to life and he twisted the heater knob all the way to the right. He sat in the driver’s seat, shivering slightly, as the van began to warm up.
He held his hands up to his mouth and blew on them, trying to get some feeling back into his fingers. He watched as the parking lot lights slowly clicked on, one after the other. Detention had kept Eddie at school longer than usual and he knew the sky would be almost completely dark by the time he pulled up to the trailer. But, with Wayne working second shift at the plant, Eddie knew he didn’t have to worry about questions from his uncle, wondering where he’d been, why he was late.
Warm enough, Eddie put the van into drive and slowly made his way out of the parking lot. As he drove towards the trailer park, he noticed the lights coming on on the houses lining the street. Reds, greens, and blues began to illuminate the darkening roads. He would never admit it out loud, but Eddie liked the look of Christmas lights. They made him feel warm and… dare he say, fuzzy.
As he pulled up to a stop sign a few blocks away from the school, Eddie noticed a figure walking up ahead. He crept forward, pulling up next to them. Once he realized it was you, he threw the van in park and leapt out of the driver’s seat. “Y/N?”
You turned, obviously wary of hearing your name being called from a weird van that had suddenly pulled up beside you. Your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself and Eddie could practically see you shivering from here. You squinted at him in the bright headlights. “Eddie?”
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Eddie asked, stepping around the front of the vehicle. As he approached, he noticed that the coat you were wearing didn’t look too thick; you had no gloves or mittens, nor a hat or scarf. The wind was biting through the denim of Eddie’s jeans, and he knew it had to be going through yours, too. Your cheeks and the tip of your nose were already bright red. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath as he slipped out of his jacket. He draped it over your shoulders before opening the passenger door. “Get in.”
“I’m f-fine.”
“Y/N. Van. Now.” He put a hand against your back and gently shoved you towards the open door. He expected a bit of a fight but you gave little resistance. Once you’d climbed in, he closed the door behind you and quickly made his way back to the driver’s side.
“Son of a bitch, it’s cold,” he said, holding his hands in front of the vents.
“H-here.” You began to shrug out of his jacket to try to return it.
“No,” Eddie said, holding a hand out to you. “Keep it. You need it more than me. You’re practically a popsicle.” He watched as you pulled the jacket back on, slipping your arms into the sleeves. He put the van back in drive and pulled away from the sidewalk. The van was quiet except for the whir of the heater and the faint chords of a Metallica song filtering through the speakers. “What were you doing, anyway?”
“G-going h-home.”
“So late?”
You shrugged. “M-mom was s-supposed to pick me up, but I g-guess she forgot. I w-waited around for a wh-while until I f-felt weird being the only one h-haunting the hallways except for the j-janitor.” You turned toward Eddie. “Wh-what were you d-doing?”
Your shivering and stuttering was almost painful for Eddie. Surreptitiously, he turned his vent in your direction. “Detention. Johnson caught me smoking in the locker room again.”
Eddie turned the corner onto your street. Even in the dim interior of the van, he could tell you were surprised that he didn’t need any directions from you. He pulled up in front of your house, noticing that yours was the only one on the block without any Christmas lights.
“How did you…?”
“I, uh… live on the other side of the woods.” Eddie pointed into the darkness, in the vague direction of the treeline that butted up against your backyard. “As a kid, I would play in the woods, climb trees, pretend to fight monsters… just be a weird little freak, y’know?” You laughed slightly. “Anyway… sometimes, I could see you in your yard.”
What he didn’t say was how he’d checked in on you from that distance as the two of you grew up. He’d watched as you changed from having tea parties with a group of stuffed animals to simply sitting outside, ears covered by headphones or a book in your lap. He’d been there the night your dad beat the shit out of your mom and the cops had to come, their red and blue lights bouncing off the neighboring houses. A few months ago, you’d nearly caught him, as you ran through the trees, tears streaming down your face. Peter Feinstein had come running after you, telling you to wait, that he was sorry. You’d told him to fuck off, calling him a ‘cheating bastard’. Peter called you a ‘frigid bitch’ and stormed off back the way he’d come. Eddie’d almost gone after him, his fists already clenching. But he’d stayed, hidden behind a large oak tree, watching as you paced back and forth, wiping away tears, mumbling under your breath about Peter and Jessica and betrayal. The next day, he slipped an anonymous note into your locker: You deserve better.
What you didn’t say was that you’d done the same spying-in-the-woods thing. One day during the summer before high school started, you’d gone exploring, mostly to get away from the screaming match your parents were having, and found yourself on the outskirts of the trailer park. You’d been about to return home when you saw Eddie standing outside of one of the trailers, laughing with a few other teens. They passed a joint between them, their brazen attitude awing you. While most of Hawkins was put off by Eddie’s look– shaggy hair, ripped jeans– paired with his swagger, you were… intrigued by him. He seemed light and free, not giving a damn what anyone said or thought about him. You desperately wanted to be pulled into his orbit, but all your life, your mother had preached nothing but wanting ‘the best’ for you, to give you a chance of getting out of this godforsaken town. So, you hitched yourself to Peter Feinstein’s wagon for a few months, letting the golden god of the track team carry you up the social ladder until he decided he’d rather get with easy Jessica Abrams. News of your breakup had flooded the school and you couldn’t help but wonder what Eddie thought, if it even mattered to him.
The two of you sat in Eddie’s van, the heat warming you both to a nearly-normal temperature. You turned your gaze towards your house– there was your mother’s sedan, parked neatly in the driveway. You wondered if what you’d told Eddie was true– that she’d merely forgotten that she was supposed to pick you up this afternoon. More likely, she’d gotten distracted trying to find the bottom of a few wine bottles.
“Thanks for the ride,” you finally said, gathering up the courage to step once more into the frozen world outside.
“Anytime.” Eddie paused. “Seriously. I mean, there’s no way you should be walking home in this kind of weather. This is freeze-your-balls-off weather. I know girls don’t have balls, but I’d hate for you to freeze off whatever the equivalent is.”
You gave a slight laugh as you slipped out of the van, darting towards your house. Eddie watched until you disappeared behind the front door before pulling away.
It wasn’t until he got home that he realized you still had his jacket.
The next morning, Eddie was frantically pawing through the landfill that was his locker. He knew he had the cheat sheet for today’s math test in there somewhere. His search slowed as he felt a presence standing beside him. Peering around the metal door of his locker, he found you looking up at him, a swath of leather draped over your arms.
“Hi,” you said quietly. You held his jacket out toward him. “I, um… realized I still had this after you dropped me off. I figured you’d need it back, what with it being ‘freeze-your-balls-off-cold’ and all…”
Eddie bit back a laugh at hearing his ridiculous phrase coming from your mouth. He gently took the jacket from you but made no move to put it on or shove it into his locker. His denim jacket hadn’t provided as much warmth this morning as the leather one would have, but he still found himself opening the jacket up and draping it once more around your shoulders. “Why don’t you keep it?” His voice was quiet, the words almost getting lost in the din of the student body preparing for yet another school day. His ring-clad fingers stayed wrapped around the zipper track, one hand on either side, holding the garment in place and you close to him.
“The fuck?”
You and Eddie turned simultaneously. Peter Feinstein stood a few steps away, his arm draped over Jessica’s shoulders. A sneer took up most of his face. “You telling me you’re with this trailer trash freak now, Y/N?”
Jessica let out a harsh laugh that sounded like the noise a dying horse might make with its last breath. “Talk about a downgrade.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure Y/N’s devastated that she no longer has to keep asking, ‘Is it in? Is it in?’.”
Peter’s sneer turned into a glare. “Keep it up and you’re dead, Munson.”
“Whatever, Pencil-Dick Peter.”
Peter lurched at Eddie, but Jessica pulled him away. The two made their way down the hall, Jessica leaning in close to Peter, trying to assure him that what Eddie had said wasn’t true. Eddie laughed, flipping the bird at their backs.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know. With Peter. I… I’m used to it.”
Eddie turned to you. “While part of that was chivalry, part of it was just for me. That asshole needs to be knocked down a few pegs now and then.” His eyes trailed over you, liking his jacket on your shoulders more than he’d thought he would. “So… you gonna keep my jacket?”
You bit your lip and gave him a nod, the faintest pink coloring your cheeks.
Eddie swallowed the slight lump that was in his throat. “Well, it comes with a cost, you know.”
“A cost?”
He nodded, slipping his hand into yours. “Yeah. Hand-holding, joining me at the Hellfire table for lunch, letting me drive you home…”
