SPN One Shots... (Dean Winchester x Reader)

The Grinch Wears Flannel

Warnings: implied violence (witch hunt), kissing/cuddling, language, a little angst, mostly fluff

_____

"You're gonna rot your teeth if you keep eating those," Dean said, watching you unwrap a pink striped candy cane in the rear-view mirror.

"They're mini, Dean. And it's only my second one."

"They're really sweet, I can smell them all the way up here."

"Mhm," you hummed, "you want one? Cherry flavour." You asked, waving candy cane over his shoulder. You had a whole bag full with you in the backseat.

"No." He said, shoving your hand away. "Just quit it with the sweets before I'm holding your hair back over the toilet tonight."

"Geez, what crawled up your butt?" You said, falling back in your seat. Sam snorting at your comment, earning a glare from his brother in return.

"Nothing, just not feeling the Christmas spirit this year." He shrugged.

"Since when? Christmas is kinda your thing, man." Sam said, exchanging a look of concern with you when his brother didn't answer and just shrugged again.

You pulled up outside of the house of the supposed witch you were hunting. Dean had promised it was the last hunt for a while, since you and Sam both wanted to take a break for the holidays.

"Hey, Dean. Can we stop at the tree lot on the way home? The one with the petting zoo on the side. Pretty please," you asked, hopping up the steps to the stone house, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

"No."

"But-"

"Nobody's strapping a big scratchy tree to the roof of my Baby, understood?"

"They offer delivery. Stop being such a Grinch, Dean." You said, knocking on the heavy wooden door. Witch killing bullets at the ready, just in case.

A week later...

"Dean, could you stop shedding, there's green fur everywhere. I've gone through four rolls of sticky tape already." You said, padding into the library.

Sam and Dean were sitting at the table looking over the same stack of journals for the hundredth time. Dean was covered in head-to-toe lime green fur; it had sprouted out of the blue about a week ago. At first it was kind of amusing and it still kind of was, for you. You groaned trying to brush the last couple of hairs from your black skinny jeans and failing.

"Sorry to inconvenience you, sweetheart." He said, pursing his lips, sarcasm dripping from every word. You thought it was a little funny in his current state and had to stifle a laugh. He was growing increasingly irritable over the last couple of days, though you couldn't blame him. But still you tried to lighten the mood.

"I swear, it's like I'm living with a Golden Retriever in springtime." You teased, slumping into the chair next to him. Dean didn't find it funny and glared at you. "Have you guys found anything yet?"

"Sam's gotta theory. Don't cha, Sammy." Dean said, closing the book he'd been reading and re-reading.

"I'm guessing it's not a popular theory," you said, noting the frown he wore like it was frozen in place.

"Dean thinks it's too absurd, but it really makes the most sense." Sam shrugged.

"Let's hear it then." You said, placing your elbows on the table and linking your fingers under your chin.

"Well basically I think it's a witches' spell. Remember the witch hunt from last week that turned out to be a coven; you guys were bickering the whole time and driving me nuts by the way, but that's besides the point. You said and I quote, 'stop being such a Grinch, Dean'. And next thing you know-" he gestured to Dean in his furry green glory.