#i had to look up from my phone to turn my gaze skyward and wordlessly ask god if he REALLY wants to keep things like this

[getmadandsmashstuff]

Christmas in Connecticut: Or How John Learned to Love the Holidays

Authors Notes: #86 for the lovely @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog RomCom Fluff Challenge.  The prompt is bolded (hopefully) and is: $45 for a Christmas tree and they don’t deliver? You order $10 worth of chow mein from Mr. Wong´s, they bring it to your door.  I had so much fun writing this and may add a part two around the holidays if there is enough interest! Please forgive my horrible title.

Also Huge Thanks to @thinkwritexpress-official for beta’ing! 

Pairing: John x reader

Tags: HELLA FLUFF, Christmas/ the holidays, Honestly just WAY too much happiness and pure fluff

Warnings: None (that I can think of)

If there was one thing you had begged John for over the years and had always been denied, it was a proper Christmas- lights, a tree, presents, food, music, stockings, the whole nine yards. Sure, John had given in to almost every other request after you wore him down- you had gotten the rescue dog you had always dreamed of, who had saved both your asses more times than John cared to admit; the fancy hunting knife with the mother of pearl handle that cost about two years’ worth of motel bills, but which had been calling your name the moment you laid eyes on it at the antique mall you were investigating for a case; the three week extended stay in St. Louis so you could see Def Leppard’s Rock of Ages tour when it came to town- but never Christmas.  You knew he had his reasons, mainly Mary and the boys, but it still didn’t stop you from asking every year if you could at least get a tree.

So when you asked again this year, it was mostly out of habit than hope.

“Hey, John?”

“Hmm, what’s up?”

“Can we stay here for a while?”

“Baby girl, why would we want to stay in this crummy town any longer than possible?” John asked, gesturing at the town map on the table in front of you two, which indicated the very few things the town possessed: one grocery store, one all-purpose store, which would probably go out of business to the Walmart 20 miles down the freeway in the next five years, the two gas stations, and of course, the many farming, tractor, and mechanic stores necessary to sustain a farming town.

You moved over so that you were standing next to him, his warm arm just brushing against yours, while you reached up to stroke his beard, which was starting to show more grey than brown.

“Because, John, I want a Christmas, and this seems like the right place to do it. Please baby?” You asked, pouring as much pleading into your voice as you could muster, praying that this would be the year he finally said yes.  He looked at you, eyes searching yours, the tightness in his gaze that he sometimes got with the boys starting to creep in.  His eyes left yours and looked out the window, where much to your surprise, large clumps of snow had started to fall, picking up the pace even in the few seconds you watched them.  You felt John tense beside you and turned back to him, where you saw his face lips form into a defeated smile.  And then he was laughing.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, eyes still holding the laughter, “it looks like the world wants this as much as you do.  Baby girl, if you want a Christmas, you got one.”  He slipped his arm around you and pulled you into one his famously tight hugs, arms caressing your back, while you attempted to mumble a thank you into his warm chest.  You pulled back just enough to kiss him lightly, again mumbling your thanks.

“You’re welcome, baby.  But you better not tell the boys I did this.” He smiled, so you knew he was joking.  “So if we’re doing this, what do we need?” he asked.

“Well a tree for starters, and lights, and decorations, and then stockings” you started, but John cut you off.

“Baby, you know Santa isn’t real.  So why bother?” He asked, smirking just slightly.  You pouted and play smacked his arm.

“Because, it’s part of having a Christmas.”

“Fine.”

You drew him in, fingers intertwining in his thick hair, kissing him, blissfully happy in that moment.

The next week passed in a fast succession of days, the first of which mostly involved staying in bed all day due to the raging blizzard just outside the motel door.  However, after the roads had finally been cleared and salted within an inch of their lives, you two finally braved the cold to find a tree.

You had read about a tree farm about ten miles down the road that sold white pines and offered sleigh rides.  You had bundled up in a red and white stripped sweater as well as a fluffy hat and scarf, while John stayed in his traditional utility coat and leather jacket combo.  On the car ride down, you insisted on playing the Christmas carol radio station and brought John to tears with your rendition of Santa Baby.  He impressed you with a surprisingly good version of White Christmas.

When you pulled up, it was like something out of a dream; rows and rows of perfect Christmas trees, all lightly coated in the most recent snowfall.  There was a small cabin, complete with smoke rising out of the brick chimney and adorned with even more Christmas decorations. You could already feel your cheeks starting to hurt from the size of your smile.  You turned towards John, slipping your hand on top of his as he used the other to maneuver into a parking space.

“It’s so beautiful here, John” you sighed.

John turned to you and smiled, pecking your nose and adjusting your hat.  “It sure is, baby girl.”

You both shimmed out of the car and you walked around to be next to John, who slipped his arm around you and pulled you into his warm side.  You rested your head on his shoulder momentarily, so that he could know your gratitude. You slipped out of his embrace and clutched his hand as you walked towards the small cabin.  A cheerful employee meet you halfway, offering his assistance.

“We’re looking for a white pine that is on the shorter side.” You answered.

“Pre-cut or self-cut?” the employee asked

“Self-cut” John responded abruptly, causing you to let out a nervous breath, “What baby? If we are doing this, we’re doing this right.”

You nodded and the employee directed you towards a large field of white pines, looking like a scene on a postcard.  He handed you a saw and reminded you that if you had any questions, that he could help.  You thanked him and started walking down the beaten-down snow path.  You were soon entranced by the various trees, which ranged from about ten feet to three feet tall, and from so bushy you could easily fit under the lowest levels to so tightly packed that you would have trouble getting your hand past the first layer of needles. The air was cold and tickled your throat, but smelled like pine. You could almost feel yourself as a child again, warm in new pajamas, snuggled between your dog and your fireplace, the coals from the night before still smoldering as your father added new logs and your older siblings opened their presents.  You hoped John was having similar thoughts, and turned back to catch him staring at you, smiling fondly and looking more loving and relaxed than you had seen in him years.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re happy, baby. I love seeing you like this.” He said, and you could tell that he was allowing himself to be truly happy. You walked back and took both his hands in yours, being careful to maneuver the saw out of the way, and kissed him warmly, feeling his chilled nose bump into yours.  You kept the saw-free hand in his as you continued down the path until it caught your eye: the perfect tree.  About five feet tall, slimmer, with a perfect skywards branch for the star on top. You paused, nestling yourself into John’s side. “John, look, that tree is the one!” You exclaimed, pointing towards it with the saw.  Without waiting for his response, you trudged off the path and into the deep snow towards the tree, still in awe of its beauty.  As you reached the tree, you could tell it was even more perfect up close, the branches just asymmetric enough that it was pleasing to the eye, the needles still short enough they did not drip downwards.

You heard John’s boot compact the snow and felt his warmth as he stopped behind you, arm gently brushing against your back.  You were still lost in the tree’s spell-like beauty, and only acknowledged his catching up with the slightest huff of a breath.  In the distance, the bells on the sleigh jingled softly in time with the crunch of the horses’ hooves in the iced-over snow trails. You took another moment to appreciate the beauty of the moment before approaching the tree and preparing yourself to cut it down.  The saw made quick work of the tree and it soon fell into the dense, snowy blanket.

“What do you think, John?” you asked, stepping back and nestling into his warm side.

“It’s perfect, baby.” He answered, arm pulling you into a tight side hug.

“Can we take it back on the sleigh?”

The rhythm of the horses’ hooves and bells was drawing steadily closer, and you could now distinguish several distinctive voices rising from the back of the sleigh.  You looked out and saw it just reaching the top of the small slope at the very far end of the pine fields, horses’ breath steaming before them in white, smoky swirls, red bells dangling around their necks and bows adorning the side of the sleigh. Wordlessly, John bent down and grabbed the tree by its trunk, which was now covered in fresh sap, and began dragging it towards the worn-down sleigh path a little to the left and ahead of you guys. You followed, clutching the saw and trying to preserve every detail to memory.  When you caught up to him at the path’s edge, you pulled out your phone.

“Smile, John,” he turned towards you and smiled, one hand clutching the tree, the other buried deep in his pocket.  His eye’s twinkled and you noticed a few flakes had drifted into his hair, drawing out its greying sides.  “I love you John.”

“I love you too, baby.” John replied.  You snapped the picture, slid it back into your pocket.  The sleigh was just rounding the final hill, the horses drawing up, their bells losing their rhythmic tingle as they came to a halt.  You and John clambered awkwardly onto the sleigh, John struggling to climb the step up while maintaining his grip on the tree, and you struggling to simply climb the step, which was at least two feet above the ground.  You found two open spots on the worn, wooden bench between another couple and a family with two young children, both of whom looked like they were having the time of their lives.  You saw John’s eyes focused on their faces and squeezed his arm in reassurance.  The horses resumed their smooth walk and the sleigh slid forward, bells once again jingling.  You left your arm tucked into John’s and snuggled into his side, focusing on the trees that you slowly passed by.  Soon you were out of the white pines and into the stiffer fir trees with their rigid needles.  The sleigh stopped to let on a few more people, and then continued onward.

After a long stretch of fir trees, the smoke from the small cabin could be seen curling pale grey against the weak sun rays, and the smells of ginger and cinnamon started to roll over you.  Again, you were reminded of your childhood, with your mother standing in the kitchen, wearing one of her ridiculous Christmas sweaters, humming to herself and baking the Christmas cookies.  You felt a contented sigh escape your lips and small tears forming in your eyes.  John must of sensed these, because he wrapped his arm around you tightly and kissed your forehead.  By now, you had reached the end of the sleigh ride, and the driver was explaining where saws were to be returned, where you could buy the trees, and wishing everyone a happy holidays.  The young family climbed down from the sleigh first, followed by the other young couple, and lastly you and John, who was struggling to maintain his grip on the tree and climb down the rickety step. After you climbed down, you made your way towards the tree checkout area, where pine needles were so densely scattered they had made a sort of green rug atop the white snow.  An employee in a thick pair of coveralls was shaking down trees, where excess pine needles fell, adding another layer to the thick pine rug.  Another employee was operating the register, which was just a cash box and a portable card reader resting on a folding card table.  As you approached the table, you a sign taped to it that read, “We apologize for any inconvenience, but at this time we are unable to deliver any Christmas trees.”

“Who the hell would ask for their tree to be delivered?”  You asked incredulously.  John chuckled and said “I don’t know, but that seems kinda stupid, I mean $45 for a Christmas tree and they don’t deliver? You order $10 worth of chow mein from Mr. Wong´s, they bring it to your door.” You laughed hesitantly, remembering that he had never really talked about what his family had done before on Christmas, but when you looked up, he was smiling his wry, sarcastic smile.  You laughed fully, but then realized you had no plan for getting the tree back to the motel, which quickly killed your laughter.

“John? What exactly is the plan for getting this back?”

Now it was John’s turn to laugh, “Baby girl, I have cords in the car.”

You blushed but were saved from having to explain how you forgot that by the employee telling you that the total would be $25 even.  John pulled out a fifty and handed it to the employee, who was clearly a little shocked to see a fifty at a Christmas tree farm.  He gave you your change and you guys started lugging the tree to the car.  It turned out that John was right, and it was quite easy to secure the tree to the car, although he did grumble that it would leave sap stains.  As you pulled out of the lot, you assured John that once Christmas was done, you would personally clean the car and remove all the stains, which seemed to calm him down at least a little.

The drive back to the motel was faster than the drive out, or so it seemed to you, the white country side rolled by and Christmas carols played softly in the background.  The small town you were staying in was covered in lights and wreaths and had trees in front of almost every shop, adding a slightly cluttered sense to the main road.  However, it was still beautiful and made you realize just how much you had needed this.

#mimi's romcom fluff challenge #supernatural #john winchester #chirstmas