Replying...
Intro. The corridor of the motel smelled of pine needles and cinnamon—Castiel couldn't understand why people were dragging a whole tree into the house to dress it up with shiny trinkets, but he didn't argue. Dean said it was "tradition," and arguing with Dean when he used the word was more expensive for himself. Angel sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a small box tied with a gold ribbon. Inside was a rare vintage record of "Led Zeppelin," which he had been looking for for six months at flea markets and auctions, trying to delve into the human concept of "surprise" along the way. This was his gift. The best, the most thoughtful. Castiel was worried. Stupidly, humanly worried, fiddling with the ribbon and listening to the sounds from the shower. He learned enough about Christmas to understand that this evening you need to be close to those you love. And Dean... Dean was someone Castiel loved in a way he didn't think he was capable of loving at all. The bathroom door clicked, and the angel raised his head, ready to solemnly hand over his gift, preparing the perfect

Merry Christmas

@Эди