07: I'll Be Home For Christmas

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: NC17

Year/Length: 2007/~17,787 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: Wincest

Summary: "Dean pushed away from the frame and moved to meet Sam. "You're gonna hug me aren't you?" He smirked at his brother. "I'm gonna have to let you hug me."

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 who is a star. She never lets us down, even when we make her read het for us, and we are in awe of her speed and graciousness. It is her life's work to 'de-dude' us!

Dean wouldn't say where they were headed, and Sam thought that was silly, since he was driving the Impala for once. Especially after Sam had threatened to destroy the Impala if Dean let himself be dragged away by the Hell Hounds. Dean sat smirking in the passenger's seat as he gave Sam directions, occasionally singing along with the radio, because he'd actually managed to find a Colorado station that didn't suck in its selection of Classic Rock.

They'd had a heavy week, and it was one neither of them cared to relive. A nest of demons had proven almost impossible to exorcise. It had taken nearly two days to be rid of them, and before they'd completed their task the boys had left Bobby in a hospital with his leg in traction, cursing up a storm. Dean's right arm had ended up wrapped tightly, much to his disgust, due to a slight sprain. Sam himself had sustained very little damage, merely the loss of his eyebrows. Of course now Sam had to put up with Dean's jibes and teasing because of it.

It was three days before Christmas, and although the boys had never really truly celebrated Christmas in the style of regular families, Sam was feeling wistful and nostalgic, wishing they could spend Christmas the way Jess's family had during the short period of time he'd been accepted into their family.

The night was fast approaching, softly drifting snowflakes floating by as the car ate up the road. Sam had long since given up asking where they were going and now was merely driving, enjoying the throaty sound of the engine as they climbed. The road twisted and turned upwards 'til Sam could see lights indicating civilization, and that triggered a question at last. "You gonna give me any clue to where we're going, dude?" he asked, slowing to pull into a gas station on the outside of town.

Dean climbed out, "Aspen." He stretched himself, getting the kinks out and then walked around to the back of the car where Sam had placed the hose to refuel. "Just drive down the road about a mile and make a right turn. Go about five, and you'll see some cabins; pull into the last one." He moved away and pulled out his phone to make a call. Sam could see Dean nodding and smiling, chuckling now and again, and thought that he was likely hooking up with yet another old flame. He sighed.

"Aspen?" Sam darted a quick look at his brother over the roof of the car. "Dude, you suddenly win the lottery or something? How come we're staying in Aspen? Isn't that where all the jet setters spend Christmas?" He finished filling the car and headed inside to pay for the gas, pulling out a credit card that was registered to Albert Cornthwaite Jr. "You want anything, while I'm in there?"

"Nope," Dean answered as he hung up his phone and went back to the car to climb inside. He lounged, waiting for Sam, his mind going over all the arrangements he'd made. The kind old lady had told Dean she'd set up a tree for him, decorated it and set the packages he'd mailed to her under it. She'd also told him that there were fresh baked cookies and a nice dinner waiting for them in the oven. Dean was happy. She really hadn't needed to cook for them, but she'd told him that boys their age shouldn't go without a good meal.

"Let's go! Shake your ass!" Dean yelled from the car.

Sam emerged from the gas station grumbling about brothers who couldn't wait to hook up with sleazy women. Folding himself into the driver's seat once again, he set the car in motion and followed the route that Dean had laid out for him, finally arriving at the cabins that Dean had mentioned. "Dude, who lives here?" he asked his brother, parking beside the one cabin that seemed to have no vehicle outside.

The ground was covered in snow and there were Christmas lights on the eaves of the cabins, sending a wash of colored lights over the frosty earth. "We here to kill some ghost of Christmas past?"

"You might say that," Dean nodded, getting out. He waited 'til Sam opened the trunk and then shouldered his bag with his good arm and opened the door. He stood back, allowing Sam to step in first and turn on the light, secure in the knowledge that once his brother flicked that switch the room would be alight with colored lights from the tree. All he needed to do was get a fire going, and things would be perfect - or they would if he could get past the smell of the food in the oven. Damn it smelled good now the door was opened.

There was a moment's stunned silence, and then Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder. "Dude, wait." He pulled Dean back a little. "This is the wrong place. Someone lives here."

Dean turned his head toward Sam and smiled as he walked further into the room. "Nope, right place." He tossed his bag down onto one of the beds and then moved into the kitchen to inhale the scent of home cooked Italian food, all for them. Returning at last, he leaned against the door frame, spreading his arms. "This is all for us. We're gonna spend Christmas here and have the kind of holiday we've really never been able to have."

"You're kidding," growled Sam. He glared at Dean for a moment, wondering what kind of con he was trying to pull. Dean's smile wasn't his usual sarcastic grin, and after a fraught moment, Sam realized that he wasn't kidding, and that this was something he'd somehow arranged. "Dean?" he asked, hope starting to lift his features. "Really?"

He spun around, his arms outstretched, apparently embracing it all. "Dude," he said, reverently. "A Christmas tree."

Dean stayed leaning against the door frame, loving the look on Sam's face. His brother was glowing as much from what was inside him as from the lights. Sure, when they'd been kids they'd had some Christmases, but mostly their father had been away, leaving them with Pastor Jim, who had been great, but not family, or else he'd forgotten completely, on the trail of something that needed killing, and Dean had had to make up for it. That wouldn't happen this time. It was his last Christmas after all. "And presents," he said and smiled.

"Presents?" Sam looked a little stunned. "Dude, you mean we're going to do a real Christmas and have Christmas dinner and all of that?" He chuckled. "I hope that doesn't mean you're gonna sing "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" to me." He headed towards his brother, intent on hugging him, and the beaming smile on his face was enormous, looking as if his face would split wide open if he grinned any harder. "Turkey and stuffing? Hey, is there an oven? I don't mind trying to cook Christmas dinner, although a turkey is probably a bit too big for just the two of us."

Dean looked at Sam and got flashbacks of when they were kids, with Dean heating up a can of something for his brother or some TV dinner. It had always been the best Dean could do, and he'd made sure Sam had presents he could play with instead of 'use' like his father always gave them. "Well, I talked to the landlady, and she said she would bring us some dinner. So one worry is solved."

Dean pushed away from the frame and moved to meet Sam. "You're gonna hug me aren't you?" He smirked at his brother. "I'm gonna have to let you hug me."

Laughing, Sam enveloped him in his arms, virtually smothering him in his enthusiasm. "Sure am," he grinned, clinging to his normally reserved brother. "I may even kiss you! How'd you like them apples?"

He released Dean just as his brother's bones began to creak, but didn't back away, leaving his hands on Dean's shoulders. "Seriously, dude, this is going to be awesome... or it would have been, if the end of the world wasn't happening all around us. God, Dean, you and me, we're gonna have a good time, recharge our batteries and then get out there and kick butt straight to hell, if that's what it takes."

Dean had wrapped his arms around Sam, hugging him as he closed his eyes. Having his brother this close. Smelling him. This Christmas was gonna be a dream if things worked out.

However, his eyes shot open when Sam said he might even kiss him. Would he? They'd kissed once, at Bobby's, and Sam had looked mortified. Dean pulled back and gazed at his brother, trying not to look shocked. He twitched his lips and cocked his head to one side. "Yeah, well, we deserve it. And we have to go out with a bang." He slapped Sam's arm. "You hungry? Food's in the oven for us." Pulling away, he stepped into the small kitchen. "For the next five days, we can just relax. Be ourselves. Let someone else take care of those monsters out there."

"Let's just hope we don't get the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come popping up to drag us somewhere nasty." Sam was only half joking. He clapped Dean on the shoulder and then went to hang his jacket up on the hook beside the door, already pondering how he might be able to get a present for Dean.

Following Dean into the kitchen, he watched as his brother opened the oven and pulled out a casserole dish, filled with lasagna. "Dude, how did you manage to set all this up without letting on? It's really, really cool."

"See, I can keep a secret." Dean turned and moved back into the kitchen. He smiled at Sam and began setting the dishes out. "Let's eat." Peering into the fridge, he gave a crow of triumph. "Score, dude, she got some beer in for us!" Extracting a couple of bottles, he handed one off to Sam and went out to the fireplace to start the fire, leaving his brother to dish up the food. "Ahh, this is the life," he said, accepting his plateful and dropping down to eat it beside the fireplace.

Taking his own plate, Sam went to sit beside his brother, lounging next to him as he ate. "This beats burgers from the Jiffy-Mart." He sighed in contentment and set his plate down on the rug beside him. "That was truly awesome. Is she going to cook everything for us, or are we on our own after this meal?" He smiled over at Dean. "I don't mind either way, but it's nice having someone to cook for us. I need to go say thank you to her."

Kicking back, he watched Dean finish his meal. "So what do you want to do now?"

Dean told Sam the kind old lady was going to make their dinners for them as and when they wanted. She'd always call before she cooked for them. She'd told Dean that Christmas dinner would be delivered a day early, and they'd have to reheat it, because she was going to be spending time with her own kids. As for what to do next, Dean really didn't care. He was full of incredible, home cooked food; he had beer; his brother was with him; there was a fire going, and that was pretty much all he needed for the moment to be happy.

He turned his head to Sam, speculating. "I want to have a snowball fight," he murmured and smirked.

Raising his eyebrows, Sam considered this. Finally, grinning, he nodded his head and pulled himself to his feet. "Okay, dude, you got it! Let's go."

The jacket Sam habitually wore was thin, but he pulled on a hoodie under it and made for the door, intent on getting outside first to stockpile snowballs as ammunition.

Snow was still falling, lazy flakes drifting across the moon, and the lights from the cabin beside theirs stained the snow red and purple and green. Sam gathered snow rapidly, packed it in hands that had never known gloves, and stood waiting for Dean to come out.

Dean took his time, throwing on his own hoodie before donning his leather jacket. Bundled up, he stepped out the door only to be smacked in the chest with a snowball by a brother who was grinning from ear to ear. The look on Dean's face was priceless. Shock and the look of, 'you cheating, brat,' was written all over his face. With a yell, Dean charged after him and tackled him into the snow. They rolled around for a while, before Dean succeeded in getting to his feet, and he laughed as he gathered up snow to toss at his brother before running for cover.

Shaking himself like the giant puppy he often resembled, Sam could hardly speak for laughing. He dashed after his brother, intending to stuff snow down the back of his neck, and after a few minutes the two of them found themselves rolling in the snow all over again.

"Jeez, it's cold," growled Sam, finally satisfied with his brother's snow-caked eyebrows. "Let's build a snowman." He struggled to his feet to dust off the snow that clung to almost every surface. "I want to make a big, huge one and call it Bobby."

Dean was laughing. "You got it... As long as we don't put some magical baseball cap on him, and he throttles us for it." He started gathering snow, favoring the arm that was still healing but getting the base of the snowman done as if he'd done it many times. He kept rolling as it began to snow again. Sam's cheeks were rosy red. Dean smiled approvingly. This was the way their childhood should have been.

Sam had been rolling a ball around to make the snowman's head, and once it reached a good size he bowled it over to where Dean was working and began to help build the body. "Why haven't we ever messed around in snow before?" he asked Dean, reaching to brush a flake of snow off Dean's thick eyelashes. "It's cool stuff..." He paused, then laughed. "In fact it's fucking freezing. Are we nuts?" He shook his head, dislodging a few flakes that had stuck to his hair. A sudden pang hit him as he looked at his brother, so fit, so healthy, and happy and so doomed. "God, Dean," he whispered. "Why can't we have this?"

"Probably because we never stayed put long enough to," Dean muttered, patting some snow into the base. He stood up, gazing at Sam, lashes batting while Sam flicked the snow flake away. He smiled. "A little crazy, yeah, runs in the family." Smirking, Dean reached up and rumpled Sam's hair some more. Feeling guilty suddenly, Dean looked away, reaching down to lift the snowman's head and put it in place. "We have it now. Let's make the most of it. Hold on, be right back," He jogged into the cabin and then reappeared to place a baseball cap on the snowman's head, a scarf around its neck, and a carrot for the nose. "There. Now if you pee in the snow, write Bobby's name in it," he called chuckling.

Letting out a huge whoop, Sam pitched a huge snowball at his brother, cackling as it burst on the back of Dean's head and exploded, sending powdery flakes down the back of his neck.

"Oh, dude! Score!" he yelled and then turned to run for the safety of the cabin, howling with laughter.

Dean whirled around only to see his brother's backside. He grabbed some snow and ran after him. "You brat!" He threw it, hitting Sam square on the butt. Dean broke out laughing at the expression and the sound Sam made as he grabbed his ass and looked back. Grinning wide, Dean called a truce. "Hot chocolate time!" he said, pushing Sam through the door.

Laughing, faces flushed and bodies caked in snow, the two brothers tumbled into the cabin together. Sam shook himself like a dog, clumps of snow dropping down onto the mat as he moved. As he removed his jacket, he turned to Dean, his eyes sparkling. "That was fun. Hey, we didn't make angels yet. We have to do that tomorrow."

He helped Dean dust off the snow that was still sticking to his back and then stepped out of his boots and went to warm up his hands by the fire. "Dude, did you say hot chocolate?"

Dean hung his jacket up, took his boots off and then padded across the cabin to the kitchen, returning with an old iron pot he had filled with milk. Bending, he hung it over the fire. "There," he said. Marshmallows, whipped cream and large mugs followed, and finally Dean dropped down beside Sam and smiled. "Do I know how to set you up or what?" he asked, beaming, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to lean over and kiss his brother.

"That depends." Sam gave Dean a lazy smile and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the flask in which he usually carried holy water. "You want a drop of something powerful in there?" he asked Dean, unscrewing the cap and handing it over to Dean. "It's... er... not water. It'll go good with hot chocolate."

He sat on the rug watching as Dean heated the milk and made their drinks, gazing at Dean's profile and wishing that he dared tell his brother how he felt. Finally, he rose to his feet and went to look out of the window at the falling snow, not quite trusting himself to keep his hands off his beautiful, beloved brother.

Dean had taken the flask from his brother, and after a brief sniff of the contents, he poured some into each mug. He added hot chocolate and stirred in the milk, teeth sunk into his lower lip as he concentrated. Finally, he added whipped cream to them and summoned his brother, handing a mug to Sam before sipping his own. "Oh man, this is heaven." He slid over and leaned against his brother. "Remember when I first gave you hot chocolate."

"Feels like just last week," murmured Sam, shuddering a little at the physical contact. He leaned in against Dean, feeling the heat of his brother's body pressed against his side and closed his eyes briefly, the better to remember it in the time ahead when there would be no bright, sarcastic brother by his side. He felt tears spring to his eyes and blinked furiously in his attempt to stop them falling. "You did everything for me, Dean. Not just hot chocolate - everything."

"Yeah, well, someone had to. If I hadn't you'd still be wearing your underwear on your head." He smiled, looking up at Sam for a moment before returning his gaze to the fire. With all his heart, Dean wished things might have been different for them. Not just now but for all of their childhood. He wished more than anything that their mom was still alive, that she could be the one who put whipped cream into their hot chocolate and not him. He wished that they'd never had to leave Kansas. He looked up at Sam again, noticing that his brother's eyes were moist with tears and knowing why.

Sitting up, he pulled Sam against him, forcing his brother to lean against him, petting him as he ran caressing fingers though his hair. "You'll be okay. You were always the strong one, Sam."

"Dean, you remember when you came to get me from Stanford?" Gazing at his brother, Sam picked his words very carefully. "When I told you you could go look for Dad on your own?" He was close to Dean, very close. Dean's breath feathered against his cheek, and Sam felt light headed. "You remember what you said to me?" He gazed into Dean's eyes, willing him to understand what he was telling him. "You said, 'Well, I don't want to.' You remember that? Well, I know I'll be okay, but I don't want to be. You're not going anywhere. I want you to stay with me, and I'm not gonna let anything stop me from making sure that's how it goes down."

Dean gazed at his brother. So close. So tempting. He wanted. He needed. Dean quenched those urges by swallowing, and gave Sam a small nod. Reaching up, he placed his hand tenderly on Sam's hair, caressing. "Okay, Sammy," he whispered. His mind went back to the day Sam had left for Stanford. Those were almost exactly the same words he'd said to Sam and yet his brother had still walked out. Dean hadn't stopped him, he'd stood back and let his brother leave. He hadn't call Sam, either, because his brother had asked him not to. His eyes reddened with tears and he pushed his brother back as he felt himself choking up. "Hey," he said, trying to overcome his sudden emotional state. "Lets see if we can find any of those old cheesy Christmas cartoons on, huh?" He reached for the TV remote as he spoke.

Sam stood, blinking rapidly, trying to get himself under control again. "You know what, Dean? Back in the hospital there, just after the demon rode that semi into our car, I remember them working on you, because your heart stopped." He shuddered and turned away, knowing he was losing a battle with his tears and unwilling as yet to let Dean see just how strongly he was affected. "I remember praying so hard, because it suddenly occurred to me that we'd learned to be brothers again, and, more than that, I felt like I'd learned to pull my weight, and I was no longer the little kid you had to drag around after you. It was a big revelation to me. I suddenly felt like we were partners. Then, when Dad died so suddenly, our partnership was all I had - all you had too. Don't stop me from fighting to keep it, Dean. I don't want to lose you."

Dean looked up at his brother, remote in his hand. "I don't think I can stop you from doing anything you set your mind to, Sam." He pushed himself up, looking at his brother's back. "You're gonna do this with or without me. You and Dad have that in common. We are partners. We're brothers too. Sam ..." Dean wanted to say more, so much more, but found himself closing up, just the way he usually did. "Can we watch cartoons now?" he asked, giving his brother a shove.

"I guess, jerk!" Sam gave him a slightly shaky smile and dropped down beside his brother on the couch. "Just so long as it isn't Charlie Brown's Christmas again. Jess loved that thing, and it used to make me want to throw up, or kick the screen in, or something." He grinned at the recollection, amazed that it no longer hurt to think about it, other than a faint, regretful ache. "You want more beer? I could use a little fortifying for the festive season myself."

Nodding, Dean turned on the TV. "Beer me, dude." Flipping through the channels, he found Rudolph, smiled and settled down. "Sammy, you think I should let my hair grow?" He ran his hand over his short hair. "Get it shaped like this little dentist dude?"

"I dunno. I kinda like it the way it is. Helps people tell us apart." Sam smirked. "Besides, if you grow it long like me, all the girls will automatically see just how much better looking than you I am, and you'll fade into obscurity. You want that to happen?" He rose to his feet and went to pull a couple of beers out of the well-stocked fridge.

Stretching his legs out, he kept them extended, even when Sam returned, forcing his brother to step over them. Dean took his beer with a grunt and sipped from the bottle, smirking. "The chick thing would never happen. I'm freakin' adorable, even with longer hair."

The next morning dawned bright and cold. The snow had stopped falling overnight, and the sky was blue, with sunlight that glittered off the snow and set the lacy, frost-rimed branches of the evergreens around the cabin sparkling. Sam, as usual, awoke first and tumbled out of bed, heading into the kitchen to try and find coffee.

The sight of the Christmas tree stopped him, and he stood for a few moments to admire it. Then he noticed the presents under it and went forward to see what was written on the labels. They were all for him.

"Son of a bitch!" He frowned. How the hell was he going to be able to get away from Dean long enough to buy him something? He'd better hurry, because he had only a couple of days. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and he had no idea where there were stores, let alone what to buy for his brother. Stumbling off into the kitchen, he began to make coffee, thinking hard about what strategy he'd employ to get gifts for Dean.

Dean woke up slowly and rolled over in his bed, nice and toasty, not wanting to leave it. He hugged his pillow, buried himself down until all that was visible were his eyes peering out from under the blanket like some feral animal. He hadn't heard Sam get up, despite the curse he had let out at the chill air. What had woken the sleeping man was the sweet smell of caffeine. He sat up, yawning and stretched. "Mmm, coffee. Hey, you making me a cup?" he called, flinging the covers back. He shivered. "Man, it's cold."

"Snow's stopped." Sam came back into the room, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. Sitting himself down on the edge of Dean's bed, he held one of them out to his brother. "I thought it wasn't too bad," he murmured. "We can get the fire going, if you like, but I'm warm enough, although I don't intend to go outdoors in flip-flops." He smirked at Dean. "I've made batter for pancakes, and there's eggs and bacon too, if you want some. If you don't, then I guess we go out and find a diner."

Dean took the cup and sat cross-legged upon the bed with the covers over his lap. He sipped his coffee and made a pleased sound. Smiling, he looked at his brother and nudged him. "Dude, your cooking I'll take. Pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Sweet. So chop chop, I want my breakfast ready by the time I get out of the shower."

"What did your last servant die of, dude?" asked Sam as he got to his feet to pull on his shirt and jeans, but there was no malice in the question, and indeed he gave Dean a happy smile as he left the room again to get the food started. Pretty soon, the fragrant scent of bacon filled the cabin.

Sam was just setting out the plates when Dean sauntered into the kitchen, looking comfortable in his oldest pair of jeans and a thick, woollen sweater. Wordlessly, Sam indicated the coffee carafe and grinned as Dean made unerringly for it.

Dean was clean, his jeans were almost too worn, and were close to ripping at the knees, but he was comfortable, even in the woolly sweater. He bee-lined to the coffee carafe and poured himself a hot steaming cup, taking a sip. "Ah, you are getting better at this." He smiled at his brother and plopped himself down in a chair, pulled his plate before him and took in the spread. "Damn, Sammy, who knew you could cook? And not Lucky Charms."

"I rock, don't I?" laughed Sam, taking his seat opposite Dean and reaching for the bacon. "So what's the plan? I'm not sure where we are in relation to the town, or what the facilities are. I don't know if you think we're gonna learn to ski overnight, dude, but I'm really not cut out to be a skier. The limit of my winter sports ability is throwing snowballs. Wouldn't mind taking a look at the town though, in a while. Could use a pair of gloves."

"Sure, we can go into town," Dean nodded, "We're just outside of Aspen." Dean took some bacon and chewed happily. "I could use some gloves too," he said, brandishing the wrap on his arm. “Maybe a hat, too. My ears get cold." He stopped talking for a few moments in favor of shoveling in food. Finally he laid his fork down and nodded. "Okay after you clean up, we can go into town - unless you want to go in your jammies."

Sam added pancakes and eggs to his plate, and topped them off with syrup. He didn't speak immediately, too busy transferring food from his plate to his mouth, but once the initial hunger was slaked, he looked up at Dean and beamed. "Yeah. A hat wouldn't hurt me either. I want one of those woolly ones with a pom-pom on the top, dude." He peered out of the window at the blanket of snow that covered the ground. "I wonder if our snowman needs a girlfriend."

"With big hooters," Dean nodded. "Hey we can use the pom-poms off your hat." He laughed, but it was obvious he was feeling impatient. "Okay, eat," Dean pointed to him with his fork. "Then we can leave." He went back to his breakfast.

While Sam went to clean up, Dean did the dishes, or at least put them in the dishwasher. He would run it while they were out. Once out of the house, Dean drove them into Aspen. On every station, there was Christmas music. Dean was lucky to find a parking space, and, grumbling, he paid the meter, then turned to look up and down the street, checking out the stores. "Okay, hopefully we'll find some hats and quick." He rubbed his red ears. Sam nodded and together they made their way into a mall, going inside into the warmth to start looking around.

Sam needed to get away from his brother. He followed Dean into the store and waited until he was deeply immersed in the purchase of a suitable hat before melting away to start searching for something his brother might like for a gift. He dug his hands into his pockets as he strolled around the department store, and his fingers touched the metal of the dog tag that had belonged to his father. He'd buried one of them at his mother's graveside, but he'd slipped the second off its chain and kept it. Now, he suddenly thought of how it could be made into a gift Dean might treasure. He went back to where Dean was trying to decide what color hat to get. "The red one, dude. It matches your eyes," he murmured. "I'm just going... over there. Be right back."

Swiftly, he headed off in search of a silver chain.

Dean looked at the red hat and shrugged, "I'll take this one and those black leather gloves. Oh and make that two, one extra large." One set was for Sam. He also got Sam one of those hats with the pom-pom on top, just as a joke, and as he paid for them, he looked around for his brother. He didn't see Sam, and he frowned and turned to look for him, hoping Sam would like the presents he got him.

Sam had found a chain that met his approval and purchased it, and now he was looking at clothes. There were a whole lot of up-market, fashionable duds that he knew Dean would scorn, but as he went through the menswear department, he caught sight of a shirt made of deerskin, soft and supple and warm, dyed a rich, reddish brown. He swiftly handed over the current credit card and bought it, asking for it to be gift wrapped before leaving the counter.

That was it, he thought. The store didn't really hold any attraction for him, and he knew that Dean wouldn't want any of the merchandise there either, so he started to look for his brother. As he headed towards the area where he'd seen Dean last, he caught sight of the music store across the concourse from where he stood. Nodding sagely, he headed over to find something Dean might like.

Dean walked out into the concourse, looking around. There was still no sign of Sam, and no point in going into the music store, because there were no more cassettes, even though he refused to put a CD player in his car. A heavenly scent assailed his nostrils. Cinnabons. He turned his head, and the scent drew him to them. He stopped at the counter. "Let me have two of those; wait, make that three," he ordered, digging out the money for them. "Oh and a large coffee." Taking his order, he sat at a table, munching on the the first one, rolling his eyes in pleasure. "Mmmuh."

Sam had bought an iPod along with an adaptor so Dean could play it through the car stereo, knowing that Dean would despise it until he showed his brother how to download music for free with SoulSeek. He wondered if he'd have time to do some downloading in advance and charge it up with music, then shrugged and bought a $50 gift card for iTunes to get his brother started, and a couple of heavy metal T-shirts he knew Dean would love. He emerged from the store, gifts tucked into his jacket, and decided to see if there was a bakery anywhere nearby. If he could find one, he'd buy some chocolate chip cookies for a stocking filler. He was about to go in search when he spotted his brother, lounging at his ease, half way through a gigantic cinnamon bun at the Cinnabon that was beside the escalator.

Dean looked up, "Dude, Sammy," He motioned him over, "You have got to try these. They're like heaven!" He held one out for Sam and then indicated a bag on the table beside him. "Got you some gloves and a hat," he announced, tossing the bag to Sam. "Where were you?"

"Went looking for new shoes, but they cost an arm and a leg. Don't need 'em that much," Sam spread his hands as he took a seat at Dean's table. "Dude, did you get one of those for me?" He reached to take the bun Dean was extending his way, wondering where his brother put it all.

Dean nodded, "Why do you think there are three here? I'm not that much of a pig." He finished the one he was eating and took the other. "Dude, these are almost as good as sex." He leaned back, watching kids and parents go by, hearing Santa in the grotto down at the other end of the hall. He couldn't remember ever having a photo taken with Santa when they were kids. Hell, he hardly remembered celebrating Christmas at all. Absently he lifted his hand to the talisman he always wore. It was one of the few presents he'd ever received for Christmas.

Together, the two of them ate their buns, and Sam nodded, agreeing that they were delicious. However, he still wanted to get his brother some cookies, and was determined to find some before they left the mall. He finished his bun and rose to his feet. "Sticky. Going to go find a restroom and wash my fingers," he murmured, heading away confidently. "Be right back."

Around the next corner there was a Mrs. Fields, and he felt his shoulders relax. "Gimme a dozen chocolate chip, please? And a half a dozen white chocolate macadamia."

The girl behind the counter turned away to fill a box,first with chocolate chip cookies, then with the others. She placed them in a special shopping bag and waited for Sam to pay.

Meanwhile, Dean sat licking his fingers and drinking his coffee, feeling all sugared up and happy. He glanced at his watch and wondered how long it took to wash your hands. Oh well. Sam was a big boy, and he would come back. Dean would give Sam five more minutes then go searching.

The cookies were wrapped and paid for, and Sam headed back to where his brother was about to get to his feet and come in search of him. "Dean! Hey, dude, come with me. I've found a toy store, and it's awesome." He grabbed Dean's elbow and began to tug him back towards the toy store. "Come see. It's so exciting. They've got huge buildings and stuff made out of Legos."

Dean hurried to meet him half way, perking up. "Toy store? Legos?" He grabbed Sam's arm as they went, and once inside, began playing with the Legos, building a gun and not paying attention to what others were doing around him. Settling into it, he stuck his tongue out to one side to get a piece to stick.

Sam wished he had a camera. He sneaked his cellphone out of his pocket and snapped a couple of shots, just so he could remember this for later. Dean didn't seem to notice, busy as he was. Idly, Sam wondered if he should get his brother some Legos for Christmas, but decided against it. He wasn't sure what else he could get for his picky older brother, and then he suddenly had an idea.

Leaving Dean constructing his plastic weaponry, he left to return to the department store, and when he returned, he had a pair of fluffy dice, and a little plastic hula dancer for the dashboard of the Impala. He also had a watch with built in GPS that had caught his fancy. Dean couldn't possibly say no to that, he thought.

Dean was just finishing up his creation when Sam returned, and Sam bumped his shoulder to attract his attention. "So, dude, you got all your creative spark out yet?" he asked.

Dean was holding it up, "Not like the real thing I made in the seventh grade but hey ..." He was grinning from ear to ear. He saw the bag Sam had, "You find a pair of pumps you liked?" He set his creation down in favor of a stuffed dinosaur, making sounds as he had it stomp on a city.

"Yeah. Nice and sparkly, with high heels," murmured Sam, grinning at his brother's silliness. "Because heaven knows, I'm just not tall enough."

He picked up a large, plastic water cannon and smiled. It could be fun to use, but if they filled it with holy water, it'd make a damned fine demon deterrent. He headed off to pay and then returned, prepared to drag Dean out of the store if necessary. "Okay, dude, I think we probably should go before I go mad and buy a Princess Barbie for you."

Dean pouted, but he let go of his toy and followed his brother. "Party pooper!" he exclaimed. "You ready to head back and make snow angels? Drink hot chocolate and stuff while I cook dinner?"

"You're gonna cook?" Sam opened his eyes wide. "Well, yeah, okay, let's go, although... I did buy you something, so I need to get some fancy paper to wrap it up in. We got any sticky tape? I should probably get some of that too." He nudged Dean with his elbow. "And let's not forget the special stuff to put in the hot chocolate."

Dean grinned and nodded. "Okay well, there's a place to get your foofoo stuff." Back in the department store, he waited for Sam to get what he needed, picking up some chocolates and an ornament while he waited. He seemed excited as he made his way back to Sam. "Look, I got a car ornament for our tree." It looked very much like the Impala when he displayed it.

Admiring the little car, Sam felt very close to his big brother. His fingers itched to cup Dean's face and kiss the smile from it. He took a deep breath and backed away far enough that he could no longer feel the heat that radiated from Dean's body. "Let's go home and hang it up," he said, grinning helplessly, knowing he was foolish to want Dean the way he did. "I need to wrap up your present."

Dean dropped it back in the bag, "I got some chocolates too, we can melt them in the hot chocolate with our special additive." Together, they walked back out to the car to find that it was snowing again. Handing his bag over to Sam so he could drive, he pointed the car back towards the cabin, stopping at the supermarket on the way to pick up a few things. He had Sam wait in the car while he ran in and collected everything he needed to make an Italian meal. Returning, he placed the bag in the back seat. "Let's go, dude."

They hadn't meant to spend all day in the mall, but the daylight was fading when they finally left the supermarket. On their way back to the cabin, the two of them found themselves singing along to the Christmas music. They took their purchases inside, and Dean handed his little car ornament over to Sam. "You put it on the tree," he said, smiling at him. "I'm gonna go cook." He clapped Sam on the back and headed into the kitchen to start rattling the pots and pans.

"Got it!" Sam saluted, then smacked Dean's shoulder. "Don't you poison me, dude," he said, grinning. Heading out of the kitchen with the little ornament, he hung it right at the top of the tree so that it was immediately visible, and then began to get his purchases out from their hiding places about his person.

He moved quickly, wrapping each package with care and placing them under the tree amongst the ones that were already there. Finishing up, he grunted in satisfaction and sauntered back into the kitchen where Dean was slicing onions with his vampire-beheading panga. "Dude, isn't that overkill?" he said, grinning.

Dean looked at him, "I couldn't find a knife - not a clean one, anyway." He went back to cutting and dropped the onions into a pan to sweat. He had a saucepan going with white cheese sauce and another with ravioli and tortellini in it. He had bread in the oven warming, and two mugs were waiting to be filled with hot chocolate. "Why don't you go get the milk heated so we can make the hot chocolate."

Nodding, Sam went to the fridge. "You know, man, I could almost imagine us living like this - you know, normal, happy, doing all this sort of shit together every day. It's so nice." He poured milk into two mugs, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. "This is kinda what I was looking for when I went off to Stanford. Wouldn't you have liked to live this way?" He gave Dean an inquiring look as he set the microwave. "You know, we still could. You keep telling me you're tired, and I believe you. You've had so much to bear for someone that never asked for it. Why don't we just go... get a life, Dean?"

Dean stopped and looked at his brother. "Wait, this from the guy who told me no all those times I even suggested it. This from the guy who said he was gonna save as many people as he could." He looked away, watching the stove, stirring as he threw tomatoes in with the onions, heating them through before pulling them off the stove. "Sam, this life, never gonna happen for us, not for too long. You know it, I know it. We both knew it when we were kids. As much as we would like it ..." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, I know," murmured Sam, looking unhappy. "It'd be nice to pretend though." He pulled open the door of the microwave, took out the two mugs, and began to stir in the chocolate. "You want booze in this?" he asked, reaching for the bottle of brandy they'd bought earlier. "You never wanted normal before. Would you take it now if it were offered?"

Dean thought for a moment then looked at Sam, "Yeah, I would. But no white picket fences. Just... normal." He returned to stirring before going to drain the pasta. "Okay, dude, go set the table, unless you want to eat in front of the fireplace again." Everything was almost ready, the sauce, the pasta and the bread, and Dean was feeling a warm glow of satisfaction as the savory scent rose up.

Nodding, Sam paused for a moment's thought and then began to collect the things required for setting the table. "Might as well embrace as much normal as we can," he said, carrying the knives and forks through to the dining area. "Hey, did you see outside? It's snowing again. After dinner I'm gonna make a snow Impala for the snowman to drive."

"I'll make him a snow bunny cause he needs company," Dean grinned as he took bowls of food over to the table. He served Sam first, ladling the ravioli out, adding the cheese sauce, piling the tomatoes and onions on top and setting it before his brother. Turning his attention to his own plate, he took his seat across from Sam and passed him the garlic bread. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Want to do anything special?"

"I... I don't know." Sam shot a glance at his brother, wondering what had made his brother ask the question, and wondering too whether Dean would come with him to church, if he asked. "Maybe it'd be nice to go to midnight service and welcome in Christmas, but you don't have to if you don't want to. Why, do you have any suggestions? What would you like to do, dude?"

Dean looked up, about to shovel a large forkful of ravioli into his mouth when that loaded question reached his ears. He set his fork down and gave a shrug. "I ... um ..." he fumbled over his words. "I could just wait here for Santa." Dean and churches hardly ever got along. He wished he could believe in God, but so far, after all that had happened to him and his family, how could he? He lifted his fork up again then nodded, "Sure, I'll go with you, Sammy. As long as I don't have to confess my sins. We'd be there til next year," he said at last, and finally ate his bite.

Laughing, Sam kicked him under the table. "Foolish mortal!" he said. "You really haven't committed any sins worth confessing, and anyway, you don't confess your sins at the midnight service, you sing Christmas carols and stuff." He chuckled at the grimace that Dean made and blew him a kiss. "I'm serious. You aren't really a sinner. You're actually a pretty good man."

"So what I did with the doublemint twins isn't a sin? Oh and then there was that time I ..." He stopped and smiled. "Christmas carols huh? I hope you don't want to go caroling afterwards. I'd have to hurt you." He gave Sam a nod. "So we go to services. Midnight. Damn, that is pretty late. Guess I better drink lots of coffee tomorrow. And, dude, we're gonna miss Santa showing. Oh, shit! Do we have to dress up?" He looked at Sam, his expression horrified.

“Nope," grinned Sam. "Just make sure you're actually wearing clothes. I'd hate you to get frostbite in all your important places." He bit into the garlic bread and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Dude, this is really good. I'm loving it. You should cook more often." He began to eat, relishing the meal that Dean had prepared. "I didn't know you could do more than nuke burgers. I'm very impressed. What other talents do you have hiding behind that slapdash facade of yours?"

Dean stared at his brother. If he could only tell him all the things he wanted to say. If he could only see that ecstatic face remain as he kissed his brother, sucked his cock, fucked him til Sam was melting under him. "I'm full of talents, you should know that. I can't give them all away at once. What would be the surprise if I did? I mean, dude, c'mon, I gotta keep you guessing. You can't know everything about me." He shook his head as he sipped his hot chocolate, made a pleased sound then set it down. "And since I cooked, guess who gets to clean up."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam peered longingly at the empty dish that had contained the sauce. "Guess I'll start now."

It didn't take him long. Pretty soon the table was clear, the dishwasher was running, and Sam was pulling on his jacket, looking around for the gloves that Dean had said he'd bought. "Come on. Let's go play in the snow," he said, dragging his brother up from the couch where he'd settled. "You know you want to make snow angels, and you need some exercise. Remember what Ellen said about your tush spreading if you didn't work it!"

Dean had other ideas on how to work it but that would have to wait. He grumbled and mumbled as he pulled his jacket, hat and gloves on. "Yeah well, if she saw how much exercise we actually got she wouldn't say that. Who do you know mountain climbs on Mount Rushmore like we did? Or goes running through grave yards, or houses ..." He was listing them off as he stepped outside. "Dude, it's freezing out here!"

At that point, Dean suddenly found himself face down in the snow as Sam bowled him over. He rolled over and started making his snow angel. Scrambling to his feet he studied it. "Now I can say I'm an angel," he chuckled. "Hey, don't you dare put horns on that!" He ran over to tackle Sam, who was making his own adjustments to the head.

Carried over backwards by his boisterous brother, Sam found himself flat on his back in a drift, with Dean covering him, pressing him down into the cold ground. Dean felt warm against him, and as Sam looked up into his laughing face he knew that it would be so easy just to give up and pull him down for a kiss; it was only the thought that Dean would be disgusted at him that prevented him. He could feel himself becoming aroused at the feel of Dean's body against his, and pushed at him, hoping against hope that Dean wouldn't notice.

"Jeez, you big ass, get off me, before I freeze to death down here," he growled. "There's melted snow going down the back of my neck."

Dean climbed off him but not before shoving snow down Sam's pants. "Uhuh!" He ran away, mocking his brother. "Make your Impala, cry baby." Pausing to throw a snowball at Sam, he turned his attention to making another snowman. His eyes slid over to his brother, drinking Sam in and wishing against all hope that Sam wouldn't kill him for his thoughts.

Thinking that he'd managed to get away with things, Sam heaved a sigh of relief, believing that Dean hadn't noticed his embarrassing erection. He writhed a little as he scooped the snow out from the back of his jeans, and then turned to begin construction of a car out of the banked snow. It took a while before he'd amassed enough to work with and started to sculpt it, but after a while he felt as if he was making progress. He was starting to feel chilled, and it wasn't long before he called out to Dean. "Dude, I'm frozen. Gotta go in before I get sick. You coming, or you staying out here?"

Dean had his bunny formed when Sam called out, "Huh? Oh yeah, sure, I think my toes are frozen." He dusted his gloves off and followed Sam inside. He cast off his jacket and began to bank up the fire. The hot chocolate that had become their ritual was next. Dean turned his attention towards making some more. "Here you go, little bro," he murmured as he handed over a steaming mug and sat down beside Sam.

Wanting nothing more than to curl up against Dean, Sam accepted it and didn't move away, allowing their thighs to press against each other. "Is there a game or something on?" he asked Dean, looking for the remote for the TV. "Should've rented a couple of movies. We gonna get some for over Christmas?"

Finding the remote down between the cushions on the couch, he flicked on the TV and lounged back, leaning against Dean as he sipped his chocolate. "Jeez, dude, deliver me from Charlie Brown," he growled, flicking through the channels in search of something watchable.

"I happen to like Snoopy," Dean slid one arm along the back of the couch, and his feet went up upon the coffee table so he could lounge comfortably. "I think she said there were some movies in the cabinet under the TV." He bit his bottom lip and dropped his arm down around Sam to rub his arm. He wished this were different. He wanted so much more.

Sam had been about to get up and go check, but as Dean's arm fell on his shoulder he gasped and settled back against him, wondering when his brother would notice and withdraw. "Feels kinda strange not having anything to hunt and not needing to do any research. Hey, you wanna play cards?"

Rising to his feet reluctantly, he went into the bedroom to find the pack of cards he had in his duffel bag and brought them back triumphantly. "Name your game," he said, smiling.

Dean had to bite back 'strip poker.' "Dude, you playing cards against me?" He chuckled, then shifted so he could sit on the floor opposite Sam, taking the cards to start shuffling. "How about you pick? Let me see what card games you still remember how to play." He grinned wickedly. "And none of those old lady games."

"What's that game Dad used to play when he was feeling benign and felt like keeping us company?" Sam frowned, trying to coax the name of the game from his memory. "You know the one? You start by saying how many tricks you're gonna make?" He scratched his head. "The one with the spades in it. You remember?"

Dean grinned widely. "You mean Spades?" He started dishing out the cards as he glanced at Sam. "Okay, dude, there are your cards." He started counting the tricks he could get. "I can take seven." He sipped his drink. Damn, they were having a lot of chocolate these days. Sam definitely made the best, but that was probably a by product of his being a chick. Sam knew just how to mix it and how much whipped cream to add. Dean might nurse good coffee out of bad, but Sam was killer at this. "C'mon, before I switch the game to strip poker," he said, smirking.

"Strip poker?" Sam laughed, "Dude, it wouldn't matter if you did or not. I'd still beat you." He gathered up his cards. "You'd be sitting there wearing nothing but your sunny smile, and I'd have all your clothes. Course, they wouldn't fit me." He studied his cards. "I'm thinking I could manage seven myself." he announced. "So let's see how we go."

"Dream on, I'd whip your ass. Remember when we were in prison? How much I won? I'm damn good." Dean threw a card out, waiting for Sam to play his, and he led out another after taking the trick. "So, Sunshine, you'd better sit closer to the fire, or you'll get cold."

Sam knew his brother's style of play, and allowed him to take the first couple of tricks before taking the lead and leading out his own choice of card. "You forget how well I know you," he murmured. "You can't bluff me the way you can some of those convicts you conned out of their hard-earned smokes."

Dean quirked an eyebrow as Sam started gaining more tricks. He looked at his cards then tossed one down. Okay, if Sam wanted all the tricks, he'd make him take a penalty for taking more than he'd said he would. "Yeah, you know me, and you cheat too."

"Cheat? Me?" Sam's eyebrows disappeared into his hair as he looked at his brother, apparently shocked to the core. "Dude, would I cheat?" He shook his head vigorously, his expression one of a boy who'd been hideously wronged. "I'm not the one that keeps the extra ace tucked in the back of my jeans! I saw you workin' it in the jail there."

Dean looked at him, "See, it's that look right there that counts as cheating." He tossed his last card down. "And it was either that or sell you, so which would you rather me have done?" He lounged back on his arms. "Your deal, tiger."

Shaking his head and grinning, Sam dealt out the cards. There was something about Dean tonight that spoke to him, and he had never loved his brother more. "Do you remember that time when I was in ninth grade and that big bastard Alan Weiss was bullying me because my clothes weren't designer fashions? You caught me out trying to get into the storeroom at school so I could put itching powder in the football uniforms?" He laid his cards down and flashed a smile at Dean. "That, right there is when I knew that I had the best big brother on earth."

"Yeah, I remember, I also recall I was the one who took the blame for it from Dad." He took up his cards. "And the principal. I got detention for a week." He was looking over his cards.

"But that fucker never bothered me again, or any of the other younger kids either." Sam smiled as he remembered Dean's efficient booby trapping of the older boy's football uniform. "You were my hero after that. I mean, I always looked up to you, because you were my big brother, but after that you were everything. I wanted to be exactly like you, you know. It pissed me off so much that I couldn't be."

"It was the hair," Dean commented as he started laying a card out. "I remembered you used to scream bloody murder when Dad tried to cut it. Little girls had nothing on pitch compared to you." He chuckled.

"It's the source of my strength," smirked Sam, running his fingers through his luxurious mane. "Just because you want to look like you had an argument with a pair of shears doesn't mean that I do too. Besides, girls like it." He posed, striking an attitude and flexing his muscles as he winked at Dean. "You think all this brawn just happened? No, dude, it was all due to the hair!"

"Okay, princess, you win," Dean leaned back against the couch. "So you saying I should let my hair grow? Give me more power to attract women?"

"If you think you need that, for sure." Sam smiled at his brother, imagining him with long hair and feeling his cock stiffen at the thought. Ignoring it, he crossed his legs and studied Dean, mock sympathy on his face. "Seriously, dude, if you hadn't kept shaving it all off like you do, you'd be as big and sexy as me, instead of short and stunted the way you are!"

"Ha ha, I am sexy. In fact I'm adorable." Dean leaned forward, crossing his legs and leaning on the table. "Okay, I'll let my hair grow as long as yours. You'll see just how much more adorable I can be."

"Sure," murmured Sam, using Dean's statement as an excuse to reach for him, run his fingers through his brother's short hair. "Of course, it's never going to be as thick and luxurious as mine, but I'll teach you all I know about hair, if you want." He took hold of a couple of strands of Dean's hair and yanked on them, snickering as he managed to pluck one from his brother's head. "That's just the trouble with it. No sticking power," he lamented, showing Dean the hair.

Dean let out a sound then rubbed his head. "Brat," he grumbled. "See that's the main reason why I didn't let my hair grow, so you couldn't pull on it." He tossed his cards at Sam then slid across the coffee table, grabbing Sam in a head lock to give his head a good rub to mess his hair up. "And it takes me less time to fix mine. I look good no matter what."

"Smooth fucker," growled Sam, trying to fight Dean off and succeeding only in kicking over the coffee table. "Get off me, dude. You know I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh, you like it rough, and you know it," Dean started tickling his brother, knowing exactly where to get his brother that would make him squirm and bust out laughing.

At that point, the evening devolved into a wrestling match, with ticklish Sam attempting to get away from Dean and his fingers of steel. Cards and mugs (fortunately empty) littered the floor, and eventually Sam brought himself and his brother crashing down onto the floor too. Dean, cunning in battle, knew exactly where to tickle, and pretty soon Sam was a helpless heap on the floor.

"Stop it; stop it!' he gasped, slapping at Dean's hands. "Can't..."

Dean pulled away, triumphant in his endeavor. Sam was red from laughing. Dean was grinning as he looked at him. Sam looked so happy, and, damn, Dean wanted to kiss him. He so wanted. "Teach you to try and top me."

Dean's lips were so close, his eyes crinkled in laughter, his face happy in a way that Sam rarely got to see these days. He'd stopped tickling Sam, and Sam couldn't move for fear that his brother would withdraw. He was hard, and it was fortunate that Dean wasn't actually pressing down against him. For a moment he contemplated rolling away, and then he paused. "Fuck it," he growled, reaching up to pull Dean's face down and press his mouth against those plush, smiling lips.

Dean wasn't ready for it. He had certainly not been expecting it. All he heard was the two words, growled out fiercely, and then his head was pulled down, and Sam was kissing his smiling mouth, almost before Dean realized what was happening. It was perfect; when they parted, Dean's heart was beating hard. He didn't give Sam time to rethink what had happened; he dove in and kissed his brother once again. This time it was all sloppy, wet tongue as lips parted, and he probed into Sam's mouth.

Dean kept it slow and long, as long as Sam would allow it, til he pulled away, very slowly.

Tongues twined, slick against each other, Sam's fingers curled around Dean's neck, and his eyes gazed, heavy lidded, into Dean's. He felt the kiss shiver through him, sending sweetness like an arrow to his groin, and he felt suddenly scared about what he was doing. When Dean finally drew back, he resisted the urge to follow, to prolong the moment, and gazed up at his brother, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. "God, Dean. What are we doing?" he whispered, his voice shot, and his pupils blown.

Dean didn't know how to answer Sam. What could he say when the same question was going through his own head? He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Sam's. "Something we've both wanted for a long time?" he asked with a slight shrug. "We should ..." He didn't want to break this moment, he truly didn't, "Clean up." His fingers reached for the fallen cards and landed upon the ace of hearts, which he took and placed against Sam's forehead, fearing that any further words would ruin the moment.

Sam's eyes widened as he took the card and turned it around so he could see it. He sat up slowly, feeling disoriented, his body still tingling from the contact with his brother. Nodding, he rose to his feet to set the coffee table upright again. He'd never considered a relationship with a man, let alone his brother, and he felt as though he was on the verge of a change he couldn't quite embrace. He loved Dean, and lately he hadn't been able to think about anyone else, but he had loved Jess too, and somehow he'd thought that he'd hook up with another girl - Ashley perhaps - rather than his sexy, womanizing brother. He gathered up the mugs silently and took them through to the kitchen to put into the dishwasher. When he turned back to Dean, there was a small, gentle smile on his face.

"Dean?" He held his breath. Was his brother mad at him? Was he disgusted? He'd kissed him back, so maybe he'd be okay. "Dude? I think we need to talk." He saw the flicker cross Dean's face at his words and tried to explain. "I'm... kinda messed up," he murmured.

Dean had picked up the cards, tucking them away in their box. He felt jubilant, because there was no mistaking it, Sam had kissed him. Sam had initiated the caress - twice in fact - although perhaps he was regretting it now, and saying they needed to talk was his way of weaseling his way clear of entanglement. Dean tipped his head towards Sam, fear of rejection painting his features. "What do you mean?" He turned, confusion replaced the fear. "You aren't messed up."

"Maybe I'm not," admitted Sam. "It's just... Dude, you've got to admit that you've got the wrong plumbing. That's pretty messed up, isn't it?" Sam swayed towards his brother, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. "But you feel it too, don't you? You liked it too?"

Dean kept turning the cards over in his hand, nervous now. It took everything in him to keep from just grabbing, tearing at his brother in his need to see him naked. It was the first time he'd ever wanted to resort to begging. "Yeah," he admitted, looking down, a slight blush washing his cheeks. "I do." He looked back up to his brother.

"So what do we do now?" Sam was looking longingly at Dean's lips, wanting to somehow climb inside the circle of his big brother's arms and feel safe. "Maybe sleep on it and see how we feel tomorrow?" He gave his brother a strained smile. "It's kind of unusual to want to kiss your big brother, isn't it? Maybe the feeling will pass off overnight. Hey, you think we've been bewitched or something?"

Dean felt his stomach tighten into knots. Sam wanted to kiss him again, and that was all Dean wanted. He licked his lips and nodded, "Yeah, we should sleep on it." He knew with complete certainty that his feelings would not vanish overnight. He'd been carrying them with him since Florida and before - since forever, or so it seemed. Maybe, if he were honest, he'd wanted Sam since back when they were teens. No wonder he was going to hell. He hadn't needed to make a deal; he'd been destined to go anyway. "Do you remember being bespelled?"

"Nope," said Sam, sitting back down on the couch and trying to settle the unsteady pounding of his heart. Slow and steady, Sammy boy, he thought. Don't do anything rash, anything stupid. You don't want Dean to hate you, even though you're a perv. "Doesn't mean we weren't though. I'm just saying!" He gave Dean another small, shy smile. "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. Let's do the sensible thing and think about this, and then talk it over on Christmas Day, yeah? That way at least we'll have had time to reflect and decide what the right way forward is."

Dean walked over and sat down, putting space between them, but not overly so. He didn't want to make Sam uncomfortable, didn't want to push him away. He nodded, indicating his understanding of Sam's words. "Christmas Eve, midnight mass," he murmured, feeling a pang of guilt wash through him. He wasn't only having dirty thoughts about his brother, he was also a man destined for hell, and he was gonna be walking into a holy church. "Then Christmas Day. We'll open up our presents first, and then we can talk." He nodded and smiled, thinking that he would die if Sam decided that he didn't want this after all.

Sam nodded, silent for a moment. He still felt as if he were on the edge of some amazing change, and the thought of Dean with him, loving him the way he wanted made him tingle. He gave Dean another nod, and then, on impulse, he leaned forward and placed another swift kiss on his brother's lips. "That works. I want to see you open up your presents from me. It's going to be fun." And I'll be the best present you ever had, if you let me! He yawned then and stretched. "And now, unless you want me to rub your face in the snow again, I guess it's bed time."

Dean so wanted to grab Sam and haul him in for one more kiss. However, he held back and just nodded, "Okay, I'll be there in a minute." Damn! He was wondering if he could get away with jacking off in the bathroom. If Sam only knew how often he'd done that with Sam's name on his lips...

With Sam tucked in bed, Dean soon cleaned up and followed. He crawled into his bed, lying on his side to face Sam. He watched as his brother fell into sleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted, and his dark lashes rested on his pale cheeks made Dean ache to go over and hold him, to kiss his moles and snuggle against him, breathing in his little brother's scent the way he'd done when they were younger. However, now was not the time. Dean groaned and rolled over, trying not to torture himself too much. Dean forced himself to sleep, and finally he did, late into the morning.

Christmas Eve passed much faster than either of them had expected. They woke late, ate a huge breakfast and then took a couple of garbage bags and went out to find a snowy hill that they could sled down. They'd returned to the cabin hours later, rosy cheeked and frozen, and eaten another meal.

As the evening drew on, Sam had gone off to the bathroom to get himself ready to go to church and materialized again later, clean shaven and wearing a suit and tie with his hair neatly brushed back from his face. When he caught Dean looking at him with his eyebrows raised, he put up his hands. "Dude, don't mock. It's just one day, and besides, I kinda wanted to look good for you, because... well, just because."

"More like for the old ladies at the church," Dean teased and moved past him for his turn in the bathroom, but not before he'd smacked Sam's ass. Dean had to admit that Sam looked damn good. Really really good. But then he always did when he dressed up. Sam seemed to make anything look good. Dean knew he was good looking himself, but for some reason, he loathed getting done up in a suit. Still, today, he would wear one, especially for Sam.

He grabbed a quick shower, brushed his teeth and even shaved before fixing himself up in a suit and putting on a tie. He gazed at himself in the mirror then nodded before walking out. "So how do I look? Presentable for church?" The last time he'd set foot into a church had been to lay the spirit of a dead priest. It had been then that he'd learned Sam prayed every day, believed in God and hoped there would be salvation for him. That had shocked him, although when he thought about his emo brother he really wasn't sure why. "And don't you dare ask me to do a little turn on the catwalk," he muttered as he moved past his brother, grabbed his jacket and the keys to the car.

Looking at his brother, Sam felt his breath catch and quicken. "You'll do. At least you don't have egg on your tie or anything." He followed his brother to the door. "And I don't think that they'll have a catwalk, but you sure as hell are gonna turn on all the little old ladies."

They drove slowly down through the snowy town to the church, and entered to find it almost full. There were candles around the walls, and candles on the altar, and as they slid into a seat at the back Sam studied his brother through the veil of his lashes and thought that he was never going to make it through to Christmas Day. Dean sat beside him, lounging nonchalantly in the way he always did when he was really stressed out but wanted to make a good impression, and Sam wanted to press him against the wall and kiss him breathless. The back of his hand brushed against Dean's, and he gave a little gasp as Dean's solid heat warmed him for a moment. Smiling at his brother, Sam closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment.

"Please, God, let me have this," he whispered. "Let me keep him safe and give him the love he needs."

Dean couldn't seem to sit still. The benches were too hard. He felt like he was burning up, especially when Sam touched him. Dean just wanted to drag his brother out and, screw the bed, take him in the back seat of the Impala. There was enough room, or he would make the room. Fidgeting again, Dean bowed his head but remained silent. He glanced sideways at his brother, hearing the sermon but not really listening as he leaned into Sam, bumping his shoulder.

The pressure of Dean's shoulder and thigh against his own grounded Sam. He could feel all of the nervous energy that made Dean his brother tingling against his side, and he fumbled his hand down to find and squeeze Dean's fingers. The way they were feeling it was evident to Dean that it was inevitable that they would mark Christmas by making love, and he felt dazed with the need to touch Dean, hold him, taste his mouth and lose himself in long, sweet kisses.

A carol was announced, and they rose to their feet to sing. Sam couldn't take his eyes off Dean, dressed to kill, singing Christmas carols. He leaned in and pressed his lips to his ear. "It's nearly Christmas Day, and I haven't changed my mind yet, just so you know."

Dean was singing away. At least he knew the carols. He leaned into Sam, listening as his brother whispered against his ear, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at his words, while goose bumps formed over his neck, chest and arms. He was tingling down below as well. God, he wanted Sam. The very thought made him drool, and Sam's whispered words had Dean wanting to push his brother outside before the service ended, so he could get them back to the cabin without disgracing himself.

He finally turned his head to meet Sam's eyes and smiled a predatory smile. "Neither have I. Now sing."

So that was settled, and there was really nothing much further that required discussion. Sam was a little confused about how they would manage to do whatever it was that they were going to do, because, when it all came down to it, there was nowhere to put his dick. He sang the words to "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful" and imagined how Dean's face would look when he, Sam, sucked his brother's cock deep into his mouth. He dropped his hands holding the hymn book down in front of the bulge he was sporting and let his mind run riot.

Dean set his hymn book down as the carol finished and sat back down, waiting. This was the longest service he'd ever attended. Actually it was the only one, if he was honest. He felt like a kid, squirming next to his brother. Finally it was over. Dean was up on his feet as if he'd been electrocuted and pushed Sam out of the church. It felt better once he was out in the cold and he could yank his tie loose. "I thought that would never end!" He exclaimed to Sam over the top of the car.

"Aww, I kinda liked it." Sam was beaming, his smile so wide his face looked as if it might split in half. He opened the car door and slid into his accustomed spot, turning to look at Dean, who'd loosened his tie and was looking every inch the romantic hero. "Dude, get me home. It's too cold to stay out here for long."

As Dean put the car into gear, Sam slid over so that he was close enough to Dean to press against his arm a little. "So do we open our presents first, or...?" He didn't finish his sentence, but Dean would know exactly what he meant, he had no doubt.

Dean slapped his hand upon Sam's leg, feeling as if he could tease a little now that he knew they would get together tonight. "Dude, such the eager little beaver. Presents first. I need to warm up." He leaned to turn the heater on full blast. As he pointed the car towards home, he couldn't stop throwing glances at Sam.

Upon reaching the cabin, he climbed out rushing to get inside. "Dude, make us something warm while I get the fire going."

Still grinning, Sam went into the kitchen to break out the hot chocolate one more time. He wanted to grab Dean and run his hands up under the crisp white shirt he was wearing, but he also wanted to stretch out the anticipation. He'd waited so long for this, and now it was definitely going to happen, he too wanted to make the anticipation last as long as he possibly could.

Returning to the living room bearing steaming mugs of fortified hot chocolate, Sam settled himself down on the couch to watch Dean as he finished coaxing the fire back to life.

Once the fire was crackling merrily, Dean removed his jacket and tie, flopping down beside his brother. He took his cup and sipped from it as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Ah," he sighed and then smirked at his brother. He could see that he wasn't alone - the anticipation was driving his brother crazy too. "Well, go get the presents," he said and nudged Sam with his elbow.

"You think you deserve presents?" asked Sam as Dean chivvied him from his comfortable position to go find the stack of gifts and fetch them back. "I guess you do. You've been pretty good to me." He began to stack the sizeable pile of gifts and bring them over to place on the coffee table. "Gee, Dean, Santa came while we were out. He even brought you something."

Dean sat up, "Huh? He did?" Dean looked at all the packages and saw that his name was on half. "Dude, when did you buy these? And don't tell me Santa is real." He lifted one up, shaking it beside his ear. "Here." He grabbed a box and handed it to Sam. "Open."

Taking the package from his brother, Sam turned it over and over in his hand, hearing it rattle. "Dean?" He peeled off the tape from his package and pulled open the box that it revealed. Inside the box was a bracelet of silver links that bore a bead with an eye set into it. "Hey, that's pretty cool," he murmured, trying it on his wrist. "Thank you." He reached for a package with Dean's name on it. "Now you."

Dean looked at him. "Pretty cool? Dude, it's a devil's eye. It protects you from demons. If it cracks, tells you a demon got through. You replace it with another." He elbowed his brother as he pulled at the wrapping on the present Sam had passed him and tore it up to pull out the fuzzy dice. "These are wicked!"

Sam was busily unwrapping the next gift, which turned out to be a T-Shirt with "Orgasm donor, ask here for free sample" written on the front. "You're nuts, you know that?" he laughed. "Or are you planning on asking me for a sample?" With a grin, Sam reached for Dean and leaned to kiss him, a swift peck on the cheek. "I think we should be told, but first, why don't you open another present."

Dean reached for another, opening it up without ceremony. He stared at the watch he found inside. "Dude. With a GPS?" Blinking at it, he quickly took off his old watch and replaced it, playing with the settings as he started laughing. "Look, this is us, the little blue dot," he said, showing Sam, for all the world like a little kid.

Sam's next package contained a CD, and he turned it over and over in his hands as he read the label announcing that it was the contents of his father's journal. "Dude, did you scan the whole thing, or what? This is awesome." He was about to go and load it onto his computer, but the pile of still unopened presents was sitting there, and he turned back, setting it to one side. "Okay," he said, tossing Dean another package, and taking one for himself. "Both together," he said. "Synchronized opening!"

"I knew you always wanted it on CD so you could get it into your computer. So yeah, had it all scanned in. Won't believe the looks I got. Anyway, they even put in key words so you can search it as well." Dean shrugged. He knew Sam would be eager to get it into his computer, but he was determined that presents came first.

The two of them opened the next gifts together, paper flying, bows following. He pulled open the box and stopped, swearing he'd given Sam the wrong parcel. Looking over as he held up the T-shirt, he saw that Sam was holding up the same shirt - black with white lettering, Metallica. His face broke into a grin. "Dude!" They both said together.

Laughing in delight, Sam pulled the T-shirt on over his dress shirt, posing happily. "Dude, we are so going to be the Bobbsey Twins." He smirked and sat back, watching Dean put his shirt on too. "Okay," chuckled Sam. "Here. Open this one."

Dean tore open another present, finding another shirt, and then another gift, making him look confused as he revealed the super soaker. Then he got it. "Dude, you mean fill this up with holy water? Oh, you rock!" he exclaimed as he mimicked pointing it around and firing. Upon reaching the iPod with adapter, he looked at it with a frown and then back at Sam, knowing his brother was going to have to show him how to use it. Dean and technology sometimes just did not get along, he reflected, remembering how Sam had had to show him how to get ring tones onto his phone.

The cookies were next, and he ate one, of course. Fresh baked cookies were one of his weaknesses. The last of his packages was small and he waited 'til Sam had finished opening his others, before he gave his brother the last special one he'd got - a copy of the key for the Impala.

Sam was busily investigating the contents of the large box with his name on it. True to his detail oriented nature, he unwrapped the gift very carefully, and as he opened the box the scent of leather filled the room. The black leather jacket he pulled out was soft and buttery to the touch, and he put it on immediately, inhaling the smell of it. "Oh, man, this is just gorgeous," he said, looking at his brother with love in his eyes. "Thanks."

More shirts followed, and he laughed as he opened the second one. "You think maybe my wardrobe needs updating?" he asked.

"Just a tad," Dean smiled. Dean held out the small box for Sam. "Last one, Sammy." He then looked at his own last package, stopping when he saw the chain and what was attached to it. He blinked at it as he held it up, tears forming in his eyes when he read the silver tag on the end and the punched in engravings that spelled out a name that made his heart tighten with pain.

John E. Winchester.

"I thought ... " He looked at Sam.

"I buried one, but I kept one," said Sam softly. "I just thought that it would mean something special. I mean, I know that Dad didn't give you a choice, and he wasn't the best dad ever, but you loved him, and he was so proud of you. It's only right you should wear it." Sam felt his own eyes tearing up as he watched his brother wrestle with his emotions. "What I'm trying to say, Dean, is that you were everything he ever wanted you to be, and you still are." He paused, gulped and then continued as a tear escaped. "You're everything I ever wanted you to be, too, man."

Dean felt tears falling, and he sniffled as he placed the chain around his neck. It was the second thing Sam had given him to wear around his neck. The first had been the talisman which was supposed to be for their father. Sam had given it to him when he'd thought their father would not return. Dean looked up at Sam, who leaned in, kissing that fallen tear.

"Open yours," Dean whispered, hoping his final gift could match up to this.

Opening the package to reveal the keys to the Impala, Sam looked at his brother, stricken. He knew what Dean was saying with the gift, and he wanted to scream at his brother that it was not okay. "Dean, I am so not taking your car! You are not going to leave me; you got that? I've already told you, if you die, I go with you." He scratched his head, trying to find words that Dean would understand. "I am not going to let you go. No matter what; you and me... we belong together. Especially not now."

Dean looked at his brother for a moment, then got up and moved over to the fireplace. Well, that had bombed like a ton of bricks being dumped upon him. "Just wanted you to have your own set," he said, extemporizing. He threw more logs into the fire to avoid looking back at Sam, longing for him to understand.

Heartsick, Sam got to his feet and followed his brother, needing to get his message through to him. He moved up behind Dean and deliberately slid his arms around his brother's waist to pull him close. "Listen, Dean, I know how you feel about your car - it's a part of you; it's kind of like home, and I feel honored that you'd want to give me something that dear to you. I'm not saying I don't want to be that close to you. All I'm saying is that if you're giving me a subtle hint that you aren't going to be around any more, I reject that hint and tell you that it's not going to happen, okay?" He pressed his mouth to Dean's neck and held on tightly, inhaling the scent of Dean's cologne and committing it to memory, just in case all his brave words came to nothing. "You're not going to leave me alone. I won't let it happen."

Dean felt his muscles tense at the feel of Sam touching him but then melted as Sam's lips touched his neck. He closed his eyes, lashes wet from unfallen tears. He turned his head back to Sam at last, twisted and surged in, kissing him deeply, pushing him back, climbing over him and using his body to pin his brother, toppling him down onto the couch.

For a single moment, Sam felt as though he were protecting his brother. He cradled Dean against his own, larger frame and felt the warmth of his brother's body kindle an answering heat in his own, and then, suddenly, the tables were turned and Sam found himself shoved back to measure his length on the couch, Dean on top of him, kissing him wildly. He forgot the Impala. He forgot everything except for Dean, and kiss, and want and NOW!

Dean's kisses were feverish, needing, wanting. He barely gave them a chance to breathe between them and he tugged at Sam's clothing, working his hands between them so he could get those shirts pulled up over Sam's head. His own followed as Sam fought to reach his skin, and soon the two of them were bare chest to bare chest. Sam's more sculpted form against Dean's softer edges. Both men were fighting fit, and strong, but Dean had always had that softer edge to his body, balancing eyes that had always held a harder, more intense look.

There was nothing for Sam but the feel of Dean's mouth on his own, the slick, deep, dirty kisses, as if the two of them were starving. His hands gripped and pressed, sliding over tender, freckled skin - skin that he hadn't touched since he was a child, and the feel of Dean pressed to him sent shivers coursing through him.

He could feel Dean hard against him, and couldn't stop himself from arching up to meet him, his own cock stiff and leaking as he ground his hips against Dean. Reaching down to tear at the belt buckle on his brother's pants, Sam found his fingers trembling, shaking, fighting to free up Dean's cock so that he could touch it and see the lost look in his brother's eyes as he fell apart under his fingers.

"Want you... want to touch..." He couldn't say any more, because Dean's mouth closed over his again and all he could do was moan.

Dean had to pull back, allowing his brother to work at his pants. It also gave Dean the opportunity pull Sam's open too. He finally got Sam's belt buckle open, although his pants took a little longer. Dean was so nervous that his fingers weren't working properly. He hadn't been this way even on his first date. He'd never wanted anything this badly before, and Sam apparently felt the same. God, he prayed that he wouldn't screw up.

At last Sam's dress pants were open, just in time for Dean to lose all ability to do anything but whimper as his brother's large, hot hand slid down inside his pants to grip him. He gasped, pushing his hips into Sam's hand. "Sammy," he breathed.

"God, Dean," gritted Sam, his voice shot from the sheer intensity of his desire. "Let me touch you... let me..." His hand felt for Dean's cock, clasping it with confidence, as if it were his own. It felt natural to slide his hand over the loose, silky skin that covered the solid shaft, natural to slide his thumb over the leaking tip and spread the moisture that pearled there until his fingers could slip in it. He couldn't take his eyes away from Dean as he worked him, and his cat-eyes narrowed as he drank in every gasp, every little flicker of lust that crossed Dean's face. "Want you, Dean... God..."

Dean swallowed hard, and he had to do this. He couldn't take it much longer. He needed to feel more. He grabbed Sam's hand and stopped it from moving, knowing that it felt too good and fearing he would come too soon. He pulled back and shoved at Sam's pants, pushing them down and off, following with his own, squirming out of them as he lowered them.

Sam had seen Dean naked, of course he had, but this was different. This time Dean was naked, body golden in the firelight, his cock standing proud and glistening from the curls at his groin. This time, it was all for him. He moaned softly, wanting to touch, wanting to bring back the heated skin that felt so smooth against his own. "Let me?" he begged, eyes wide as he stared into Dean's own, glassy green and black and impossibly brilliant as he gazed at Sam.

He'd never done it before, but he knew how it felt, and he wanted to see the way Dean would look when he was the one doing it to him. He sat forward, pulled Dean towards him by his cock and bent to lick it, eyes rapt on Dean's face.

Dean was surprised, but when Sam placed his tongue against him, he felt as if his knees would give. He closed his eyes and moaned as he threaded a hand into Sam's thick dark locks. They were so soft; he'd always imagined Sam's hair would feel like this but ... Oh god.

The taste of Dean exploded onto Sam's tongue, and he gasped. Salty and tart, Sam lapped at the liquid pearling at the eye of Dean's cock and watched, his own erection pressing tight to his belly, leaking its juices in answer. Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes, and Sam gave a little chuckle in his throat, then pulled him down to lay him out on the couch and bend to suckle his crown, liking the feel of his brother against his tongue.

Dean moved, sprawling out upon the couch, one hand grasping the back of it, while the other found a cushion to grip. He watched as Sam worked him, licking along the side of his cock, running his lips over it before taking him down to just below the crown while his hand worked the rest of him. Sam's large hands were perfect for this, and Dean couldn't keep his hips from moving no matter how hard he tried. He gave a gasp and pushed his head back against the arm rest.

"Jesus, Dean, look at me! I want to watch your face. Don't look away." Sam couldn't keep his own hips still as he watched his brother's face, loving the little winces and shudders that rocked Dean each time he dragged his tongue around the ridged head of the cock he was playing with. He could feel the pulsing of blood inside it, feel the way Dean's breath hitched and the way his balls drew up tight against his cock, and he trembled at the thought that he was the one making that happen.

How could Dean look at his brother when he was in a Sam induced heaven? He forced himself to look down at his brother and take in what those lips were doing to his cock. He felt shivers rattle his body harder at the sight, and reached down to run his fingers through Sam's hair. "Not too much, Sammy."

Pulling away, Sam gave Dean a cocky smile. "Can't take it, dude?" he asked. Getting to his knees, he moved so that he was astride his brother and gazed down at him, licking his lips. "You taste really good," he murmured. "Wanna taste?" Bending to press himself along Dean's body, he kissed his brother hard, sliding his tongue between Dean's sinfully lush lips to share the flavor of his pre-cum.

Dean surged up and kissed his brother, his own tongue meeting Sam's, and he moaned at the taste on his brother's lips. He groaned, then rolled, sending them off the couch and onto the floor as he settled on top of his brother. Dean pulled back and looked at Sam, caressing his chest, and smirked at him. "Now it's your turn." Sliding down Sam's body he reflected that Sam had commented that their plumbing was wrong. He, Dean Winchester, was now gonna show his brother that wasn't true.

Dean worked his way down, kissing, nipping, licking at Sam. He grasped his brother's cock, looking up at him as he stroked him but still not putting his mouth near that eager, leaking cock.

The way Dean was working him made Sam whimper and bite his lip in a vain attempt to hold back the rush of pleasure that was flooding his groin. "Oh, god, Dean," he growled. "Don't care what you do. Just... do something. Want you to..."

Shivering with need, he bucked into Dean's hand and felt himself getting close. Moaning, he reached to still his brother's hand. "Hold on. Can't take much more. Make it last for me."

Dean nodded, "I will. I'll take good care of you." He placed two fingers into his mouth, wetting them, and lowered them down to reach between Sam's bent legs; with a press of his fingers, he started rubbing at his brother's back entrance. The look that washed over his brother's face told Dean he was doing the right thing. "You'll feel really good, trust me." He whispered as he started to push his fingers in. "Just enjoy, relax."

Sam felt panicky for a moment, unsure whether he wanted this or not. He reared up, eyes wide, but the loving look on Dean's face was enough to settle him. He settled back against the rug and relaxed for a moment, trying to ignore the weird almost burn, until Dean pressed against something inside him that made him arch his spine and cry out. "Jesus! What did you do? Do it again, please?"

Dean leaned down, kissing Sam's stomach as he pushed his fingers back inside Sam and found that spot again that had made his brother jump, wanting to see his spine arch that way again. His mouth worked over Sam's stomach as he started to pump him. He knew that soon the discomfort was going to get better for him.

Once Sam was worked up, Dean moved between Sam's legs. "This is gonna hurt, but, trust me, it will feel really good in a moment." Dean started wetting his own cock, his leaking pre-cum aiding his efforts as he rubbed his crown over Sam's entrance, adding pressure.

For a moment or two Sam thought that he'd split in half. He clenched his hands in the rug beneath him and shut his eyes tightly in his efforts not to scream. Dean was pushing inside him, and he could only pray that his brother was right, and that it would stop hurting soon. His cock had gone down and lay limp along his belly. "Hurry up and make it good. It fucking hurts."

"I know, I know, it'll be good in a moment, promise," Dean whispered through clenched teeth. He finally pushed all the way inside, and he stopped, breathing hard himself as he hovered over his brother. He had to wait a moment, before he started rocking, drawing back and pushing back inside, fucking his brother. He angled his hips and, in doing so, caused his cock to drag across that sweet spot in his brother.

Dean gazed down at Sam, leaning upon one arm so he could grasp Sam's cock and stroke it in time with his hips.

It took a while. The slow slip and glide of Dean's cock inside him stung, burned, ached, and Sam was about to tell his brother to stop, when he suddenly realized that it hurt less. Somewhere in the depths of his belly there was a slow, sweet glow, and it began to grow, spreading with the motion of Dean's hips, the slide of his hand over his rapidly refilling cock. He reached to take hold of Dean's arms, tightening his fingers around them as he braced himself to start moving with him.

"Oh, yeah," he whispered. "That's much better. Go faster! please go faster."

Dean was shaking, trembling deep inside, because the feel of his brother was amazing. Tight. Hot. His. He claimed his brother as he started to do as Sam demanded, driving into him faster. He could feel his balls hitting Sam's cheeks, pounding into him and really going deep. Sam was his and his alone. Not his father's. Not anyone else's. His alone.

"God, Sammy," he moaned, leaning down. He wanted to kiss his brother, but in this position he couldn't, neither of them were that flexible.

The burning ache had faded, and now all Sam felt was the glow that seemed to be igniting into a fire with every dragging slide of Dean's cock across that place inside that felt so good. Dean was panting now, and Sam couldn't take his eyes off his brother's face as he drew closer and closer to orgasm. Dean's face was intent, pleasure-slack and wild as he fucked, body sheened with sweat. The sight of him, eyes black with desire, mouth loose and helpless, sent him spiraling over the edge, and he cried out, wordless adoration as he came.

Dean had felt the tension in Sam's cock, and he couldn't help but look down to watch his brother's release. His hand was wet with spunk, and it made it easier to slide as he kept stroking 'til nothing was left in his brother. Seeing his brother come had been amazing, and he replayed over and over in his mind how Sam's face had contorted, how his jaw had fallen open, and the sound that had filled the room. Dean couldn't hold back his own climax. He threw back his head and gave one last shove into his brother as he came, so much juice filling Sam that some of it pushed out around his cock. He braced himself, releasing Sam and dropped his head down as he kept coming 'til no more could be given.

Panting hard, Dean's sweat dripped down onto his brother as he finally drew a breath and slowly pulled out. He lay down beside Sam, turned Sam's head to him and kissed him. "Love you, Sammy."

Eyes closed at last, Sam returned the kiss, a long, tender expression of his love. Reaching his arms around his brother's slack form, he held Dean close, hands running up and down over the thick muscles of his back as he petted him. "Dean, you'll never know just how long I've wanted you to do this," he murmured against Dean's sweaty hair. "I think I was about twelve when I first started to want it, want you. I left to go to Stanford because I wanted you so much that I couldn't stand to be near you any more. Never thought that you'd want it too. God damn it, we wasted all that time."

Dean closed his eyes tightly, feeling Sam's words cut him as if they were knives. Here he was with less than eight months to live. Time was ticking for him, and yes, goddammit, they'd wasted all that time. "I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. He lifted his head to smile his brother, "I've always wanted you, Sam. I've always loved you like this. Dad gave you to me and ... " Dean looked deeply into his brother's eyes, "I'll always love you, Sammy. I'll do anything for you."

"Will you try and live for me?" Sam's voice was soft, and the desperate love sounded in his voice as he spoke. "You have to understand why I can't let you go." He nibbled at Dean's ear, teeth pressing tender flesh, tongue licking away the graze. "I love you so much. It's always been you."

Dean closed his eyes and shuddered. He turned in against Sam and held him, unable to answer him. How could he? How could Sam ask him that question, knowing what was going to happen?

Sighing, Sam pressed Dean to him, silently willing him to live. For a while, he lay, content to hold his brother, but after a while he stirred. "Man, you weigh a ton. You wanna go get a shower and wash all the sticky away?" He rolled to the side, hands still stroking over Dean's flesh as he spoke. "Then maybe we can go get into bed and... sleep together instead of alone?"

Dean lifted his head and kissed Sam, "Yeah, you should clean up too." Dean pushed himself up, helping to pull his brother to his feet as well before heading to the shower. Turning on the shower, he waited for the water to heat before stepping in and pulling Sam with him. Cleaning up didn't take long, but the brothers enjoyed washing each other's bodies. Dean gave Sam loving attention and care, taking time to admire his brother's sculpted body.

Upon getting out, they dried off and returned to the main room. Dean stoked up the fire once more before rushing over and jumping into bed to cuddle up to Sam for the warmth that was there. "Man, it's cold outside."

It was Christmas Day, and Dean thought it was probably the best one ever. He wished the day would last forever, knowing that soon they would have to hit the road, thinking that soon the magic of this night would be broken as the resounding crash of reality hit them once again.

Spooning up to Dean, curled around his body, arm slung loosely around his waist to keep him drawn in against him, Sam felt as though he could somehow protect him, save him from anything that might possibly threaten him. Drifting off to sleep, warm against his brother's back, Sam felt as though he had won a prize worth having at last. He'd gone through most of his life knowing that the one thing he wanted most of all was out of his reach, and yet here it was, in his arms. Tightening his hold on Dean's drowsy form, Sam pressed a kiss against the back of his neck and murmured his love, finishing with a whispered, 'Merry Christmas,' before slowly drifting into sleep.

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