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Merry Christmas, Sam Winchester

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Summary: Sam still hates xmas, after all, it has always meant broken promises and gifts he never wanter or which weren't meant for him. Dean still strives to give Sam a proper Christmas. Comedy. Incest, slash

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Past Donor)CasFR1817,076011,8095 Jan 105 Jan 10Yes
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Authors: Cas and Fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash, incest/wincest
Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Summary: Sam still hates xmas, after all, it has always meant broken promises and gifts he never wanter or which weren't meant for him. Dean still strives to give Sam a proper Christmas. Will a little bit of mistletoe, clues from Sam talking in his sleep, and a lot of luck help Dean 'get it right' this year?

Dean was cursing all the way from the lobby of the chalet... even the word was 'expensive'... to the cabin they'd rented for the next couple of days seeing as the only auto repair shop in the little down nestled in the mountains was closed for the holidays. Okay, maybe the credit card he was using to pay for the damned place wasn't really his, but he'd wanted the card to stretch for a while and...

Knee deep in snow, Dean suddenly realized the cabins dotting the mountainside between fir trees... some of which had been decorated and looked like they belonged in some post card. Windows were lit up, the flickering of fire light could be seen through some of them, and the air was tinged with the smell of firewood. "Holidays... we're gonna be here for Christmas," he said, his face suddenly lighting up as he looked at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes as he looked over at his brother. "Yeah, wonderful," he muttered half under his breath, continuing on past his now Christmas awe stricken brother, heading toward the cabin that had been indicated as theirs. Sam hung his head, shaking it. Up until that point, he had been silently cursing the snow under his breath, frowning at the decorations he had seen in the lobby and dotting the landscape and if he had to smell the scent of pine any longer he was going to totally go bat shit crazy. "I hate Christmas," he muttered.

"Whoa," Dean grabbed Sam's arm and slowed him down as he fought to walk through the snow. "What kinda attitude is that, you grinch. Thought you were... over it." He gave Sam a look, didn't his brother remember the 'last Christmas' they'd celebrated together before he went to hell? It had been special to him, even if it maybe hadn't for Sam.

Sam huffed as he looked at his brother. "I don't really want to talk about this, if you don't mind." He glanced toward the cabin's door only a few feet ahead of them. "Can we just go inside? I'm freezing."

"We're going but..." Seing Sam's face was set in stone, Dean gave him a shove and started walking again, quickly reaching the door. Pulling the key out of his pocket, hand freezing, he unlocked the door and opened it, flipping the light switch. As soon as his brother walked in, he looked at Sam. "Just look at this place. Look Sam... right by the window, perfect place for a tree, lights. We could decorated around the fireplace... just like mom used to." A lump rose in his throat. "This could be as perfect as our house in Kansas before..."

Sam clenched his teeth as he let the bags in his hands fall to the floor, muscle twitching in his jaw. "No, Dean. No." he told his brother, voice flat. Untangling himself from the duffel bag straps, Sam shook his head. "I don't remember what mom used to do, and every Christmas after that, the ones I do remember, I'd rather forget." He lifted his gaze to meet his brothers, seeing the look that Sam knew meant he'd hurt Dean's feelings written across his brother's face.

Sam stepped over the bags, walking over to his brother, "Look, I know you did your best, I know," Sam pressed his lips together, slightly slanted hazel orbs searching his brother's face, "And I appreciate that, I do. But let's face it, dad was never around, we didn't get presents like other kids. The very idea that we might believe in Santa got us looks from dad like we were insane." he shook his head, "I got presents that weren't even mine, that you had to steal, trees that were cast offs that you had to take, trying to make me think it was dad." Sam huffed, "Christmas just sucks, okay? Like every other holiday at the Winchester's, it sucked. I'm sorry."'

Dean blinked and hooded his eyes. "Right... fine, its fine." Walking to the windows, he looked out for a sec, then went to the fireplace. There was plenty of firewood, and he was damned if he wasn't going to at least have a nice roaring fire. He didn't remember a whole lot of his childhood with mom... in the good days, but his strongest memories were of Christmas. He always... always wanted to share a bit of that with his brother, but like a lot of other things, he managed to fuck it up every every time. Still, no matter how many times Sam told him to cut it out, something inside Dean made him want... want to give him a piece of his past, a real slice of 'normal.'

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched Dean walk over to the window. He pressed his lips together to keep from saying more, from appologising again for the truth. Their Christmas' were always horrible. Dad was never there, and Dean did always steal and snag stuff for them to have any semblance of the holiday at all. Of course, Dean never actually stole anything good. One year he had gotten a Barbie, the next an Easy Bake Oven - of course Dean had enjoyed the fact that he had swiped that gift for him more than he did - and yet another year he had gotten some damn tea set.

Yeah, Christmas for Sam Winchester had always sucked ass. Naturally he had started to wonder if his brother was stealing girls shit on purpose after a while, seeings as it seemed to be the only wrapped toys Dean brought back... ever. Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam started toward the small kitchen, "So, the guy said that there were drinks in the mini-fridge in here?" Sam asked, trying to get them off the whole Christmas kick. Just another day, it was just another day.

"Probably." Dean sounded as disinterested as Sam had. He was trying to get over it, he really was, but if he hadn't by now... maybe it kinda meant he never would. Burning his fingers, he cursed and sucked one, turning around to watch Sam stalk around the room.

Sam gave a nod, yanking open the door to the mini fridge. Pulling out a soda he popped the top, turning as he took a long pull from the can. Walking over to the small island in the middle of the kitchen, Sam set the can down, looking over at his brother, his eyes fixed on the tips of Dean's fingers disappearing into his mouth. On his brother's full lips wrapped around them, remembering how in his dream they had been wrapped around...

Feeling Sam's gaze, Dean lifted his own and locked it with Sam's. "I'm getting us a tree. You don't have to celebrate or... approve," he shrugged, but had his say.

Sam blinked at his brother, quickly lowering his gaze as he nodded. He didn't see where you were looking, he doesn't know what you were thinking. Sam grabbed the soda can and quickly took a swig as he shrugged a shoulder. Pulling the can from his lips, Sam licked them. "Whatever." he sighed, turning away, to walk over to the duffel bags, grabbing his. "I'm gonna go find the bedroom and go to bed, you can do whatever you want," he mumbled, taking his bag and his soda with him up the stairs to the loft style bedroom.

"What... already?" It wasn't even ten. Guess little brother was serious. He gave a nod, jaw a little tight. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Dean." Sam mumbled, sighing as he looked from one bed to the other. There really wasn't a door, but he figured Dean would want the bed closest to the stairs. Tossing his duffel onto the foot of the opposite bed, Sam toed off his boots and unbuttoned his long sleeve shirt, shrugging out of it. Turning to look over the balcony of the loft, down at Dean the Christmas elf, Sam shook his head, his hands going to the fastenings of his jeans. As he shoved them down, his gaze was still on Dean down stairs. You wanna gimme a Merry Christmas? Gimme... no, that was out of the question. It was sick and stupid and a product of his depraved mind when he was asleep. Turning back around, Sam stepped out of his jeans, slinging them over the footboard as he reached for a pair of sweat pants and pulled them on.

Tugging back the covers of his bed, Sam climbed under them, pulling them back up to his middle. Laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm bent, hand beneath his head, Sam frowned. He really wasn't all that tired, but he'd be damned if he wanted anything to do with Christmas.

* * *

Great, this was how Christmas eve was shaping up. Sam in bed at ten, no t.v., nothing. Dean told himself he wouldn't let Sam ruin it, this was as perfect a place to spend Christmas as they would EVER find.

A couple of hours later, he'd chopped down a tree, brought it in, and brought a bunch of greens and stacked them on the ground. Tomorrow, he could get decorations from the lodge... bet they'd have some. If Sam hadn't been such an ass about this, he'd have put little brother to work and they could have the place looking like the other cabins. Tomorrow, one way or the other, he would have this place done up right, and he'd give Sam the Christmas he'd always wanted to give him.

Heading for the bags Sam had left down here, he pulled out the bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass and then went to sit in front of the fire. He wasn't gonna waste this opportunity, nah... he was going to enjoy sitting in the lap of luxury.

As the liquor soothed him, and the warmth from the fire relaxed him, Dean thought back on all the lousy gifts he'd given Sam for Christmas. Sure, Christmas wasn't just about gifts, but Sam was right... it was a big part of it especially when you were a kid, and he'd never, not once gotten it right. Even the the year he went to hell, when it was as close to a real Christmas as they'd had, he'd gotten Sam a skin mag. That was a much better gift for Dean, than for Sam. If he'd thought about it, really put his mind into it, he could have gotten Sam a book, something he'd mentioned he wanted to read. Or maybe a shirt or something.

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass, he took a deep breath. What would Sam want... what would he want more than anything?


Somehow, Sam had managed to fall asleep. At first it had been a dreamless deep sleep, but then, he was suddenly being shoved back by his brother as this outter shirt was being torn open by the elder Winchester's hands. Yup, he was dreaming. Sam smiled in his sleep rolling over on his side. His brother's hands running over is body, his mouth, full soft lips running over his skin, down the side of his neck, up to slant over his mouth, their tongues tangled together. Sam moaned softly, lips parting as he dreamt.

In the dream Dean was pushing him down onto the floor, making Sam gasp in a breath as he rolled over again onto his back. He frowned in his sleep, NO they were not under some damn Christmas tree, it was a product of suggestion only. Not that Sam really had long to become grumpy about it before his brother's hands were suddenly on his hard cock, stroking him, his lips wrapping around his aching erection. "Oh God, Dean, yes..." Sam groaned, rolling back over, hips arching into the empty air.


Dean looked up toward the loft. He heard the muffled sounds. They weren't unfamiliar... not lately at least. Sam had been doing a lot of talking in his sleep. A lot of moaning, that had Dean wondering how hot his brother's dreams were. The jerk never shared that kinda information and pretended not to want to hear when Dean told him his dreams. Well... Dean didn't need to dream about it, he got it live often enough. A smug grin spread across his face, but he got a little shock.

Dean. Sam had called his name again. The last time it happened was a couple weeks ago. Dean swore Sam was breathing hard, and moving around, his blankets twisted between his legs. Thinking he was having a nightmare, he'd gone over to his bed to wake him, and then heard. Nah... he couldn't even think it... think... Fuck me Dean.

Knocking back more liquor, he tried to convince himself he hadn't heard his name then... or now.

What does Sammy want. He closed his eyes tight, not that. It couldn't be.


Dean finally hauled his ass upstairs and gone to bed. Before that, he'd stood over his brother and touched his cheek. Maybe he imagined the smile, maybe not. But there were no more sounds from him.

In bed, he'd been unable to shut his brain off. Even though he wanted to be sickened by thoughts of ... kissing... or whatever... with Sam, strangely the more he thought about it, the less it turned him off. Okay, if he were truthful, thinking on the sounds from Sam had gotten him a little hard. A lot hard. And now... he was wondering if he was the one who was a sick fuck and had made it all up in his mind.

He'd thought he'd never get to sleep, but he'd slept more peacefully than he had in a long time, his dreams filled with years of giving Sam presents at Christmas... and always, it was himself. When he woke, it was as if a piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. He just needed to make sure that he was right about this... that he hadn't imagined it... he had to know it was something Sam really wanted, before he acted on it and fucked things up again.


Sam woke, thankful that Dean was already awake. He wasn't sure that he could really take looking him in the eye right this very moment. Not after last nights dream. It might have only been a dream and certainly Dean would have no idea about it, but Sam wasn't so sure the entire scene wouldn't be written across his face if he looked at his brother too long.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, Sam made his way down the stairs, the scent of coffee being made, calling him from his self induced exilement. Walking down the steps, Sam rounded the corner into the kitchen and nearly choked, clearing his throat as he hung his head. "Mm, morning," he gave a nod, keeping his head lowered, though his eyes slid to the side as he walked into the kitchen, taking in Dean's lack of dress, his gaze sliding over toned muscled abs, shoulders, and sun kissed skin. Trying not to be obvious about checking him out, he asked,"sleep well?"

Dean was shirtless and in his shorts, leaning against the counter and watching the coffee drip when he heard Sam come down the stairs. He didn't move, but he looked at the mirror-like surface of the splash pan behind the oven and watched his brother's face and reactions.
"Mmm humm." Yeah, there was some sort of tension there, but he wasn't sure. He scratched his chest lightly and turned his head. "You?"

Sam gave a small nod, "Mm, good." He sighed, shifting his weight, "me too." He frowned at the coffee pot. Sam's gaze slid back over to Dean, thinking about how it had felt to kiss and touch him in his dream last night. He cleared his throat. Since when did it take this long to make coffee? When the machine finally finished, Sam nearly knocked Dean over racing to grab a cup, pour his coffee and get out of there.

"Hey, what about me?" Dean asked, getting his own cup, a frown marring his forehead. Sam did get clumsy around girls... only those he really liked though. Huh. Coffee in hand, he followed Sam into the livingroom and sat across from him, legs wide open. Raising his eyes to meet Sam's, he asked. "What were you dreaming? Sounded... interesting."

Sam nearly dropped his coffee mug, as he looked at Dean with wide eyes. "Huh? Me?" he shook his head adamently, "I wasn't dreaming. No. Why? What did you hear?" Sam asked him, regretting it the second the question left his lips.

"Mostly?" Dean asked, raising a brow. "It sounded like... 'mmh yeah... more, oh God more...oh baby...fuck yeah...oh D... '" he totally moved his body and his head back and forth, biting his lip, then snapped back. "You know... something like that."

Sam stared at his brother with wide horror-filled eyes, lips parted in shock before he finally managed to snap his mouth closed and swallow hard. Licking his lips Sam took a deep breath, averting his gaze as he looked at the floor in front of him. "I - no I didn't." Sam glanced up. "You're making that up," Sam accused, quickly taking a sip of coffee, trying his best to completely hide behind the mug in his hand.

"Do I REALLY need to demonstrate again for you to tell the truth?" Dean asked, feeling only slightly guilty. Really, he was finding out that this was turning him on... it was a little like phone sex. Right, that was a good reason for shifting and using his mug to hide his stiffy.

"I am telling you the truth," Sam grumbled, pulling to his feet. He started for the stairs, "I dunno what you're talking about. I'm gonna take a shower," he said, walking to the stairs, needing desperately to get out of the room and the hell away from his brother.

Dean watched him, the way he avoided looking at him, noting he didn't even bother calling him a jerk. "Sammy?" Getting up, Dean walked up behind him. "You forgot your coffee," he said, getting into his space on the stairs, as he passed it to him. "I'm coming... up too."

Sam stilled as Dean came up behind him, tried to flatten himself against the railing of the stairs as he looked at his brother like he were holding out a poisonous snake for him to take. "Uh," Sam reached up slowly, staring into his brother's eyes as he took the mug, making damn sure he didn't look down at Dean's chest. "Yeah, right." he licked his lips. "I knew that," he stammered.

"Yeah? I knew you knew that." Twisting to the side, Dean pushed past Sam, his body rubbing against his brother's then giving him a clear view of his ass. When he reached the top, he looked down and saw that Sam hadn't moved. Grinning, and whistling to himself, he walked away, to his duffel bag.

* * *

Sam stood in the bathroom freshly showered, towel slung low on his hips his gaze on his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he reached for his toothbrush. "You didn't make any sounds, Dean's just being an ass. It's fine. He doesn't know. He can't know." he gave a small nod to his own words, glancing down as he applied toothpaste to the brushes bristles, before looking back up, lips pressed together. Blowing out a hot breath, Sam leaned his free hand against the counter, "It's fine." he told himself, bringing the toothbrush up to his mouth.

Dean tapped on the door, and before he got an answer, walked into the small bathroom. "Need something," he said, smacking Sam's towel clad ass and bending down, squeezing himself between Sam and the cabinet under the sink. "Don't mind me."

Sam gave a small grunt at the smack on his ass, nearly swallowing the toothpaste foam in his mouth before stepping to the side and glancing down at his brother in irritation. Quickly spitting into the sink, Sam rinsed his brush. "What the hell is so important that you couldn't wait five minutes for me to get out of the bathroom?" Sam grumped at him, frowning as he filled the small cup with water to rinse his mouth out.

"Nothing... I thought I left it here." Grabbing Sam's leg, Dean used it to pull himself up, the side of his face dragging along Sam's thigh until he was standing.

Sam blinked at his brother, eyes wide. Did he just... he didn't use my leg to pull himself up and drag his face against me as he went.

"You've got some..." Using his thumb, he wiped off some foam on the corner of Sam's lips.

Sam's lips parted as his brother's gaze seemed laser focused on his lips all of the sudden, hazel orbs watching as Dean lifted a hand to... wipe at the corner of his mouth!? The hell....!?!?

"And dude... you need a shave," Dean gave him a look.

Sam swallowed hard, a breath of air leaving him, the only response he seemed capable of making at this point as he stared in wide eyed bewilderment at his brother. Blinking, he licked his lips. "I - yeah, I was," he glanced toward the sink and back at his brother. Oh hell.... Sam frowned at Dean, "You know, you're totally not funny. Now, do you mind? I'm trying to use the bathroom."

"Good." This time Dean rubbed his palm over Sam's chin, half cupping it even as his brother pulled away. "Really need it," he nodded, as if confirming the fact as he walked out. "Hurry up and get your ass out here... I need you..."

Sam watched his brother walk out of the bathroom. "I need you..." Dean's words echoed in his head. Tearing his gaze away from the bathroom door as it closed softly behind Dean, Sam braced both hands on the counter, hanging his head. "You have no idea." he whispered to himself.

* * *

A half hour later, his brother finally made an appearance. Dean grinned at him and pointed to the counter. "Breakfast is cereal, then I'm putting you to work. We're getting this place spruced up, and you're gonna help me."

Sam clenched his jaw as he walked over to the empty bowl sitting next to the jug of milk and the cereal box, spoon laying out beside it. He shook his head, "No, I'm not. I told you, you wanna play the Christmas Elf, go right ahead, I want nothing to do with it. It's just another day, Dean. Means nothing to me, sorry," he said, taking a seat at the counter and pouring his cereal.

"Means something to me." He let the words hang between them, looking over at Sam over his shoulder.

Sam sighed, half dropping his spoon into the bowl in frustration. "Fine, I give up. You win. You always win," Sam told him running a hand through his hair. "What do I have to do?" he turned half around on the stool to look at his brother, "And if you tell me I have to put the star on the tree cause I'm freakishly tall, the deal is over." Sam glared.

"I was with a girl once around Christmas, she tried to put a star at the top of my tree, if you know what I mean... eh, nevermind." Dean was just happy he won that round. "Thanks Sam." He crossed the room and started putting the tree up. "You know, you can start by going to the chalet... they said you can check out decorations. I want lights... lots of them, for the tree and the windows. Oh, and tell them we want the number 3 dinner. I think they can get it to us, what at... 7?"

He talked on, knowing Sam was either not interested or acting disinterested. Dean didn't know whether to wish time forward, so he could change his brother's mind, or to be nervous about it. Nah, he wasn't gonna be nervous, or if he was... he'd seen that Sam was a little nervous too. Big deal, they'd get over it and it would be fine.

Sam sighed, playing with the cereal box as Dean rambled on about Christmas and what he wanted him to do. Of course Dean would send him out into the cold, trudging through snow and wind to get his stupid lights and crap. Lights and crap Sam didn't even want. "Yeah, number 3 meal, by 7, lights and other crap for your tree." Sam muttered as he walked to the sink, placing his bowl down after rinsing it. "Anything else while I'm at it, master?" Sam quirked a brow, giving a pointed look at what he thought of being used as slave labor.

"Master? I like that. When you're done, you can kneel in front of me and then... never mind. That's it... I'll handle the rest." He walked backwards from the tree. "Is it straight?"

Sam huffed at his brother, trying to totally ignore his kneeling comment, but not answering about the tree as he grab his jacket, slipping it on as head headed out the door.

"Was it something I said?" Dean asked the empty room.

* * *

Sam returned nearly an hour later, after balancing the large box against his thigh, he managed to get the front door open and all but fall inside with it in his arms. The first thing that Sam noticed as he walked in was that the place now smelled like a Polo factory, damn evergreen scent was everywhere. Oh God, Dean. Really? Sam huffed under his breath, eyes narrowing on his brother as he walked over to him, dropping the box unceremoniously at his feet.

Without a word, merely frowning at his brother, Sam turned and stalked away into the kitchen.

"You know, I may be the Christmas elf, but you're the damned Christmas grinch." Dean started going through the box and pulling out the lights. "What do you think, just white ones around the windows? Save the colored ones for the tree?"

Sam gave a nod as he opened the refridgerator door, "That or you can just dump the box outside in the snow bank," he shrugged a shoulder before reaching in to grab a soda. Pulling back up to his full height, he turned with the can in hand, knocking the fridge door closed with his ass, "That's what I'd do," Sam told him, popping the top of the can.

"Okay... you know I get that there might not be great holiday memories for you, fine... boo hoo, but doen't meant you gotta hate it with... with some sort of passion." Dean kicked the box and walked outside, regretting not taking his jacket the moment the cold air hit him. Was this an uphill battle? He ran his hands up and down his cold arms as he leaned against the railing next to the steps. Maybe it wasn't hate... maybe it was just disappointment. Dean knew that feeling well, where you called something hate, but really, it was because you expected a lot and your expectations never came through, but that hope... it never died. Was that Sam's problem? It made a big fucking difference.

Sam pressed his lips together as he looked from the spot next to the box of decorations over to the front door. With a sigh he leaned a hand agaisnt the counter and hung his head. It's just gonna be messed up again, Dean. Stop trying so damn hard. It's not ever gonna be right. We lost Christmas ages ago. Sam pulled his head up, his gaze on the front door. "Dean," he called as he pulled away from the counter, "Dean."

* * *

By the time the hotel sent dinner over, Dean had the downstairs as Christmasified as possible. Maybe he'd gone nuts. Maybe he was compensating for Sam's lack of enthusiasm, but while his brother sat on his ass upstairs, watching t.v., Dean lit up the livingroom.

He waited as the waiters set up the table, and then signed the 'charge to the room' slip. Once they left, he poured two glasses of eggnog and set it down, then called out. "Dinners here... Sam, get your ass down here." He walked back, near the bottom of the stairs, and waited, his pulse a little high but under control.

Sam sighed, reaching for the remote, clicking off the television. "Fine, but I am NOT going to help you with any of that crap after we eat." Sam called out as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling to his feet and heading down the stairs, only to stagger step forward as his gaze fell on the living room and all of the decorations. The place looked like something out of one of those cards Hallmark sold. It was... perfect.

Slowly descending the stairs, his gaze never leaving the tree and decorations, Sam finally managed to tear his gaze away to look over at his brother as he reached the bottom step. "You," he frowned and cleared his throat, looking back at the decorations, "you did all this?"
Sam's attention snapped back to his brother, "Why?" he asked him, eyeing Dean up and down as he licked his lips, "I mean," he shrugged a shoulder, shaking his head, not finishing the thought, not even knowing how to finish it.

"Same reason as always," Dean answered, shrugging back. "And if you say anything bad about it... I'm going to have to kiss ... kick your ass."

Sam's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before he dropped his gaze, head hanging as he nods, clearing his throat. "Um, no, I wasn't gonna say anything." Joining Dean, he glanced up at him from under his bangs, "Uh, you said dinner was ready?"

"Yeah. Can you get the eggnog first? It's by the fire." He'd put it on the corner table. "And don't make a face... a little won't kill you," he added. What would happen if he didn't wait, if he just got it off his chest, if he... nah, he had a plan and he was going to stick to it.

Sam sighed before pressing his lips together, his gaze going back to the decorations before he gave a nod. "Yeah, alright." he told his brother, his voice having gotten soft for some reason, he wasn't even sure why. Walking over to the table, Sam bent, grabbing up the eggnog, his gaze once again, drifting over all the decorations his brother had put up, had put up perfectly, as if he'd called in some home decorating team or something. Pulling to his full height, Sam shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Dean pointed at him. "Don't move." Wearing a wolfish grin, and noting the puzzled look in Sam's eyes, he walked up to him, putting one arm lightly around Sam's waist, the other hand curling around the back of Sam's neck. "And don't spill," he said, right as he brought his mouth over Sam's, kissing him cautiously at first, but then pushing his tongue inside for the briefest second, before stepping back.

His brother's face... oh God, how he wished he could have snapped a picture. Grinning, Dean pointed up above Sam's head. "There was no one else to do it," he gave a casual shrug and took the eggnog from Sam before his brother did spill the drink.

Sam stood staring in wide eyed disbelief at his brother. Those were not Dean's lips against his, and that sure as hell was not his brother's tongue in his mouth. No. No way. He had to have imagined it. But, even Sam licked his lips he could taste his brother there, better than any dream.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Right." Sam stammered, still standing there like he had lost the ability to think or move beyond that point.

"Mistletoe." Dean explained, grabbing the other glass, and holding it out to Sam.

Sam's gaze darted upward, spying the small twig of the plant in question. "Uh-huh, mistletoe," he replied, mentally kicking himself for sounding like an idiot.

"Uh huh, exactly." Touching Sam's glass with his own, Dean took a drink and then walked away casually, pulling his chair out and sitting down.

Sam stared stupidly down at their glasses as Dean clanks then together, his gaze slowly lifting back up to watch his brother walk over to the dinner table.

"Let's eat." Without looking at Sam anymore, he took the silver covers off the two plates and set them on the cart. "MMmm, smells good, doesn't it?" he asked, as the smell of steak and baked potatoe wafted up around him.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it of the tangled mess that is seemed to have become, Sam sighed and walked over to the table, pulling out his own chair, taking a seat. "Steak and baked potatoe?" He asked, brows furrowed as he looked over at his brother, "Which of us is dying?" A meal like this was definately out of their price range and something they would never splurge on, unless of course one or both of them were about to die.

"Keep it up with the downers and I have a feeling it's gonna be you." Dean looked up just as he put a piece of steak in his mouth and "mmmm'd" over it. He could see the questions in Sam's eyes, but he knew his brother well, and so long as he didn't bring it up, he bet Sam wouldn't 'go there' about the kiss either. "You're missing out... eat."

Sam pressed his lips together, wanting to ask about the kiss. Sure, there was mistletoe and yeah if Dean was all into this Christmas thing okay, maybe he could have seen... a kiss on the cheek? But definitely not his tongue in his mouth. And now they acting like nothing happened and eating like royalty.

Sam sighed, reaching for his silverware, brow furrowed as he thought about everything. It was almost, well, as if Dean was trying to... to what? Seduce him? Sam nearly choked on the piece of steak in his mouth at his own thoughts. No, that definitely wasn't it. Reaching for the eggnog, Sam guzzled every last bit in his glass down before pulling the glass from his lips. "Uh, sorry," he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes averted.

Dean moved to his side, patting his back, "water?" Okay, he'd been a little late, but he patted Sam again, set the water down and went back to his place. "Dude, if you don't relax and start eating... I'm gonna put the Christmas Carols on." He kept looking at Sam, trying like hell to catch his eyes, but Sam kept pulling his gaze away.

Sam gave a small nod, cutting into his steak, "I'm eating, I'm eating," he mumbled, keeping his gaze lowered. After eating half the steak and most of his baked potato in relative silence, Sam finally looked up at his brother, "So, what are we gonna do now?" he blinked at his own words, "I mean, uh, did you want to watch TV?"

It wasn't completely 'off plan' but it wasnt' going quite as Dean had thought. He'd pretty much shocked Sam into silence, and while he'd wanted to keep him off balance, he hadn't wanted him to be this uncomfortable either. He took another bite of his food, chewed slowly and swallowed. "I guess sitting in front of the fire and talking... not something you'd be interested in." He let out a small sigh. "Okay Sam, t.v.... that's fine."

Sam pressed his lips together as he shook his head. "Um, no, uh, we can talk, sure," Sam told him, though his gaze lingered questioningly on his brother before he dragged it away to look back down at his meal. He just couldn't take it any more. The decorations, the dinner, the kiss and now talking in front of the fire. Sam clenched his jaw, slowly lifting his head to look back over at Dean, "What is this," he licked his lips, "exactly?"

Dean watched him for a long moment. "Whatever you want it to be," he answered eventually.

Sam's gaze didn't waver, "What were you planning it to be?"

"Christmas. You. Me. World be damned. That's what I was planning, Sam." He sat back, his gaze holding through the lengthy silence as they took each others' measure.

Sam gave a nod. "Oh." He tried to hide the disappointment that twisted in his chest from showing on his face. Of course Dean didn't want, that this wasn't... Sam sighed at himself. He really was just a big freak after all.

Dean leaned in suddenly, one finger reaching for a spot right under Sam's eye, then pulling back with an eyelash stuck on its tip. "Make a wish... make it a Christmas wish, Sammy."

Slightly slanted hazel orbs tracked the movement of Dean's finger, a frown creasing his brow, until Dean held his finger up, telling him to 'make a wish'. Yeah, a wish. Sure. Sam licked his lips, tearing his gaze from his brother's. What he would wish for Dean would probably clock him a good one, but what the hell? It's not like these things really worked anyway.

Sam leaned forward, closing his eyes. I wish that we could have our Christmas alright, but that my present was you. Like my dreams, only better. Opening his eyes, Sam softly blew across Dean's finger, quickly averting his gaze. Yeah, that wasn't awkward, he told himself sarcastically, muscle twitching in his jaw as he picked up his fork, playing with the remains of his food absently.

And incredible need to kiss Sam better swamped Dean, had him holding his breath until Sam pulled away. He released his breath, and searched Sam's face. Yeah... the tension was there... the crackling electricity between them... he'd made the right wish. "It'll come true, Sam. I know it will," he said, quietly looking down and finishing his own meal.

Later, they moved to sit by the fire. Dean somehow made sure that they drank... a lot, and soon the quiet between them dissipated and they were laughing and talking about old memories. Dean admitted that he'd always wanted to try to ski, and Sam suggested while they were burning that credit card... why not rack up a couple bills for lessons and rentals. Hours passed, and Dean learned a few things about Sam that he hadn't known... and when Sam was tipsy enough, he made an admission or two himself as Dean helped him up the stairs.

"Come on, a couple more," Dean said, arm about his brother as they took the steep stairs.

Sam grinned, rolling his eyes. "Well, I don't really hate Christmas. I just hated seeing you trying too hard," he paused, turning his head to look at his brother, leaning in just a little, "when it never came out right," he finished, his voice softer. Clearing his throat, he pulled back again, his attention back to making it up the stairs without landing on his ass. "What about you? You tell me something else I didn't know."

Staring into Sam's eyes at close quarters seemed to steal away all of his quick words, and his thoughts. "Promise you won't remember tomorrow?" He dragged his Sasquatch up one more stair and looked back at him. "I'd die for you. Again. However many times it took." He made a groaning sound as he tugged, "come on... bed time."

Sam frowned at Dean's words, stumbling as they reach the beds, falling onto his and nearly taking Dean down with him. "No," Sam told him, looking up at his brother, brows creased with his frown. "I don't want you to. Promise me," Sam said, "promise me that if I ever die again, you'll let me."

"Whatever you want, Sam." Dean leaned over him and helped him take his over-shirt off. Without asking, he started undoing Sam's pants.

Sam give a small giggle that turned into a gasp of breath as his stomach clenched when he felt Dean's hands working the fastenings of his jeans. His gaze dropped to his brother's hands as he licked his lips before reaching down himself, batting Dean's away, the last thing he needed was for Dean to see his cock twitching with excitement over the idea that his brother was undressing him. The fear of that made it though even the alcohol daze his brain seemed to be in. "I'm not that drunk."

"Maybe I am," Dean answered, moving to Sam's feet and pulling his boots off. He waited for Sam to get his zipper, then started to pull his jeans down, his gaze sweeping over Sam, then meeting his eyes.

Sam smiled up at his brother, lopsidded and goofily, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakeable as hazel orbs searched his brother's face. "You are so beautiful, Dean." Sam told him, voice soft and husky, before it dawned on his intoxicated brain what he just said. Eyes widening for a brief moment, Sam quickly forced out a laugh, trying to play it off as a teasing joke.

"You too bro, I mean that." He put the jeans over the footboard and came back to pull the blanket and sheet up over Sam. "Good night, Sam." He kissed him on the forehead as he'd done for years when Sam was a child, but as he pulled away, his lips skimmed over Sam's.

Sam moaned softly at the feel of Dean's lips against his, eyes fluttering closed. Licking his lips, the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. "Night, Dean." Sam mumbled softly.

Dean stood there for a while, watching Sam until he fell into a deep sleep. He was pretty sure Sam didn't hear when he whispered, "sweet dreams, babe." Then went to take care of a couple more things, and set the alarm clock on his phone to be sure he didn't sleep later than his brother.

The End

You have reached the end of "Merry Christmas, Sam Winchester". This story is complete.

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