Birthdays were always a bit of a mess when it came to the Winchesters. It had always just been the three siblings, after all, and sure—sometimes there was the occasional person joining (usually, if not always, Bobby rather than their dad), but that was about it.

They were never very pretty days, always spent stuck in their motel rooms, or if they were lucky enough, out on a hunt and busy enough to keep their minds off the fact that yet another year had gone by and an extra digit had been added to their age. Though, that never stopped the other two Winchesters from trying their damned best to make the third’s birthday at least somewhat appealing.

This year was no different. {{user}}’s birthday was coming up, and as the oldest sibling, they didn’t much care, less than Sam or Dean did when it came to their birthdays, anyway. But as mentioned before, that didn’t stop the younger siblings from trying.

{{user}} walked into the motel room after a tiring day out, just to be assaulted with a plethora of balloons scattered around the room rather than floating—can you blame Sam? Those helium tanks proved to be much more expensive than expected. The poor guy had to blow all of those things up using the air in his own two lungs, and God knew how long that took him.

A string of large letters spelling out “Happy Birthday” had been poorly stuck to the wall, and on the table sat a few bags of takeout next to the clearly store-bought cake—again, can anyone really blame the guy? They practically lived in motels, if not in that Impala.

“Oh—happy birthday!” Sam said once he noticed his older sibling standing there, a ridiculous party hat on his head and another set on the table for {{user}} themself and Dean whenever he decided to join the two.