AN: written for the deancas_xmas gift exchange; As 5.10 hadn't been aired at the time I started writing this story is kind of AU; many thanks to my beta who really isn't into Dean/Cas and still had the balls to read to all the fluff :)

I tired to mix the following prompts:
1. It's Christmas time either during the fight against Lucifer or just after his defeat and Sam, Dean, Cas, Bobby, Chuck (and maybe Ellen, Jo, Anna, and/or Rufus) are at Bobby's. Sort of an odd extended family holiday. Humorous, but maybe a little melancholy or bittersweet at moments
2. Dean/Cas from Sam, Bobby, Chuck, and/or Ellen's POV
With a bit of the following requests: First time fic, Dean and/or Cas realizing and/or coming to terms with their feelings about each other, Matchmaker!Sam, Chuck, Bobby, Angst with happy ending, in character humor

When Bobby got the call he immediately told Sam to bring his brother to the junk yard. Sam hadn't been terribly detailed and Bobby knew better than to bug the poor boy with questions. He didn't even need to ask, he knew those boys like the back of his hand. Dean was way too proud to acknowledge to even himself that he needed help. And there was only so much his brother could accomplish. The younger Winchester had already sounded tired. Weary. Bobby didn't know about that damn Angel of Dean's but obviously they needed at least a safe place for a few days, to regroup. And someone to give them a piece of his mind.

The older hunter had no idea how it had happened. But Sam had made it terribly clear that Dean's condition was final. Of course Sam would not have abandoned all hope before trying to move heaven and earth – or hell – and quite literally in Sam's case, Bobby was sure. The older hunter could still recall how the younger Winchester had acted after Dean's death vividly – too vividly if you'd ask him. No, if Sam said there was nothing they could do the old hunter believed the kid.

So, now he had to prepare his house. While still in that damn wheelchair. But Bobby had accomplished worse. In his mind he was already making a list – so much to do, so much to consider. It kept his brain busy, preventing him from worrying too much. Damn Winchesters. They always meant trouble.

The old hunter decided to adapt the small closet next to his kitchen so Dean wouldn't have to use the stairs. It was hardly big enough to fit a proper bed inside but Bobby had no spare bed anyways – at least no bed he could move by his own. So a mattress would have to be enough. Sam would sleep upstairs as always. And that Angel? Bobby wasn't sure if Angels needed to sleep but he figured he'd stay with Dean regardless of what the hunter would have planned.

That Angel… Bobby still didn't like him very much. But obviously Dean did. So the old hunter had to cope with his resentments. The older Winchester talked a lot about that guy. A lot. Bobby had always been good with people, knew what made them tick. And obviously he wasn't only an expert on knowing people. Because that Angel liked Dean too. A lot. The yearning glances full of longing would have been fitting for one of those awful Harlequin-novels his wife had used to read. Sometimes Bobby thought he'd get diabetes just from listening to that idjit talk about his Angel. How could someone be that blind – or ignorant – not to notice how desperately in love he was with somebody? Bobby had always known that boy was good at suppressing and bottling up each and every emotion but this...

When he finally heard the low rumble of the impala Bobby had not only managed to get the old mattress into the small closet but to adapt the entire ground floor to Dean's changed needs. And the fridge was well stocked with beer. And whiskey. As soon as he saw Sam behind the wheel of Dean's beloved car, as soon as he saw the Angel grip Dean's elbow and tenderly direct him to the porch, as soon as he saw Dean's white eyes, unseeing and blind, Bobby knew they'd need it. Badly.