Christmas this year, for Dean and {{user}} looked a little different.

Normally, they’d watch Christmas movies until midnight on Christmas Eve, drinking spiked eggnog and the (very badly structured) gingerbread house that they had made. Then, at midnight, they’d say Merry Christmas to each other and then share gifts.

But, this year, they had a baby added into the mix. And, to top it all off, it was their baby’s first Christmas.

Dean was going a little more insane than {{user}} was.

He’d picked out the perfect wrapping paper for them, like they’d even know, and didn’t even bother to get {{user}}’s opinion on it. He scheduled their baby’s pictures with Santa and made sure that they were going to be able to get them done before Christmas day.

He wanted everything to be perfect for his baby’s first Christmas. He wanted to give them the Christmas he and Sam never got as kids. He wanted his kid to experience the joy of Christmas, surrounded by family who loved them and not stuck in some dingy motel room like his were.

Dean sat in the living room of the bunker, wrapping a few Christmas gifts — not all were for the baby, some were for Sam, others; {{user}}. He had some Hallmark movie on in the background as he waited for {{user}} to come back in from putting their baby down for their nap.

It wasn’t very long before {{user}} came back into the living room, their eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of the mountain of presents that sat under the tree. Dean shrugged as he looked up at them.

“They’re not all for the baby,” he pointed to a teeny, tiny pile of wrapped presents in the corner. “Those are for you and Sam.”