Title: Hallmark's Got Nothin' On Dean Winchester

Category: Supernatural

Character(s): Dean/Sam

Word Count:

Total Word Count: 10,871

Genre(s): Angst/Humor/Romance

Rating: M, NC-17

Warnings: I evaded the schmoop po po from my last fic but after this one I'm pretty sure I'll have a permanent spot on the Ten Most Wanted list. Along with the schmoop, there is angst like whoa. Dean angst with a side of Sam angst. So again, schmangst warning. Also, pretty graphic Wincest (although I like to call it pretty AND graphic Wincest :P) Like there was ever any doubt. Established relationship.

Summary: Despite Lucifer, Leviathans, and crippling grief, Dean wants to give Sam just one day to celebrate Christmas. In March. Better late than never, right? Spoilers up to 7-15 Repo Man. Graphic Wincest. Established relationship.

Disclaimer: They own my soul, not the other way around.

Author's Note: I wrote this for my very good friend, Dru. Sorry it took 4 months to finish! I hope you like it, my dear. No dogs were tripped over and no water dishes were spilled in the writing of this story. Although Winchesters were slightly mentally tortured but don't worry, I rewarded them. :) *hugs*

Authors Note #2: I would like to thank my Wincest soulmate Paperstorm and my favorite sexpert 9Tiptoes for all of their time, encouragement, help and patience. I love you more than air.

LAST Author's Note: Mr. James Parker: Tag! You're it! Hahaha!

Dean hummed to himself as he sat on his knees, hunched over on the floor while quickly wrapping the present he planned to give Sam in a 1999 yellow crumpled newspaper that he found in the lobby of the long since closed-down and probably condemned hotel they were squatting in. His geek brother would no doubt make fun of his wrapping technique but Dean just couldn't bring himself to care. It was just gonna be torn apart anyway. Actually, Dean was pretty proud of the fact that he couldn't wrap a present any better than a hyperactive 10-year-old boy. It wasn't like it was an important skill. What was inside was the important thing. He just wanted to give this to Sam and hopefully make him smile, maybe even make those beautiful dimples appear.

The last few months had been bad - unbelievably bad. So awful, in fact, that bad was light years in their rearview mirror. Great. That just reminded him of Baby. And everything else they'd been forced to deal with lately. Sam's wall crumbling into a million pieces, Lucifer riding shotgun in their lives, the friggin' Leviathan sons a bitches, not to mention losing Cas and...

Dean's eyes slammed shut for a moment in an attempt to block out his thoughts. His jaw clenched so tightly that he absently worried about his teeth for a fleeting moment. He just absolutely could not go there. If he started to really think about Dick Roman and what that bastard had taken away from him and his brother...he just couldn't.

He and Sam deserved a good day; a really good day. A day without hunting. Because seriously, even the small hunts seemed to have taken on a particularly personal theme recently. Well, honestly, they always had but it just seemed to be getting more and more painful despite him feeling more and more numb. Even those freaky-ass clowns did a number on his brother - and that was probably the easiest and, if Dean was being honest, most amusing hunt they'd been on in a long time. He would never say that to Sam though. Dean was in full-on repentance mode right now. He still felt guilty as hell about his monumental screw-up of knocking up some monster bitch. Of course, Sam had to bail his ass out of it by ganking what turned out to be his daugher, a nightmare half-freak daughter, but still. That one hurt. He knew it had to hurt Sam too, even though they hadn't been together in months. Still, Dean knew that wasn't the point. No matter how much Sam insisted that he understood and wasn't upset about it, that enormously regrettable error in judgement was exactly why Dean was kneeling down on the highly questionable floor of their current craphole and wrapping a freakin' Christmas present in the middle of March. That and the fact that he was really worried about Sam's mental stability. So he thought it best that they take a few days, regroup, and maybe enjoy spending some time together for a change.

Actually celebrating Christmas, of all things, was his brother's idea. His speech had sped up as he went on and on, chattering Dean's ear off about cutting down a little tree, hanging fishing bobbers, maybe a few lights and something about pie and just being together, not chasing anything or being chased by anything. Sam getting excited about anything was hard to come by these days and far be it from Dean to shoot down the one request his little brother had for their downtime. So for the sake of both of their sanity, he was going to try and relax and not think about anything negative, including their biggest loss since Dad died. Neither of them could afford to break down right now.

Dean opened his eyes and resumed humming - he hadn't even noticed he'd stopped. He knew in his heart that all they needed was each other, which was a good thing because that's literally all they had now. It's all they'd ever had. The last time they celebrated Christmas was horribly painful and sad - the threat of Hell hanging over him. And this Christmas went by without either of them bothering to even notice because at the time they were both suffocated by grief. They could do this. They would do this.

The rickety door creeked opened and with a rush of brisk, late-winter air, Sam walked in and tossed the car keys and a grocery bag onto an even more rickety table propped up against the wall by the door. Dean didn't have to look up to know he was standing there watching him.

"Is that...Metallica?"

Dean's eyes flashed quickly up to his brother before returning to the gift he was taping together. He didn't even want to know why Sam had tape and two, seriously, two goddamned bows in his duffle bag.

"Huh? Well, yeah. Just a festive song to get in the mood." Dean grinned, trying to encourage himself to be at least somewhat joyous.

"For Whom The Bell Tolls? Really?"

Again, Dean looked up at Sam but held his gaze this time. "What?"

Sam's mouth quirked into a small grin, that adorable little wrinkle bunched up in the middle of his forehead. "Nothing. Just...exactly what mood are you goin' for, Dean?"

"What? I...they could be Christmas bells."

Sam snorted and shook his head. He shrugged out of his jacket before dropping lazily on the end of the bed, lying on his side, propped up on his forearm and elbow.

"What took you so long?"

"I had to stop at three different -" Sam's voice trailed off causing Dean to glance up at him only to see his head cocked to the side, forehead this time wrinkled up in confusion, squinted eyes transfixed on what Dean was doing. "- places. Dean, don't crumple it like that. What do you have against folding the paper?"

Dean shook his head. What a predictible geek - even after all these years. Dean loved it more than he could say. "It's already crumpled, Sammartha Stewart."

Sam just blinked at him. "That's...not even a name."

"Whatever. D'you get the pie?"

"No. They didn't have any left! All three places were out. I practically begged at the last place," Sam muttered petulently.

Dean sat up straight on his knees, rested back on his feet and looked at Sam, now genuinely a little irritated that he didn't get any pie. Again. "See, Sammy, that's your problem. Women don't like desperate. I shoulda just gone myself."

"Dean, they didn't have any left."

"Of course they had some left. They always have some left. You really need to work on your persuasion skills."

Sam flashed a bitchface and opened his mouth to protest but Dean stopped him with a raised hand and slowly said, "Look Sammy...silent, brooding, emo - just doesn't do it for diner waitresses. What you really need is some swagger."

Sam sputtered, "Some...are you...you're kidding me, right?"

"Hey, all I'm sayin' is..." - sweeping his hand down the length of his body to prove his point - "...I woulda come home with pie."

Sam rolled his eyes, flopped onto his back, bringing his arms up and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Be my guest, man."

"M'gonna have to. I mean, c'mon, Sammy. Can't have Christmas without pie." Dean reasoned, as he pressed a sticky note tag on the wrapped present and then gathered up the mess he made on the floor.

Sam rolled back over onto his side and looked at Dean with mild exasperation. "Pretty sure we've had a lot of Christmases with a lot less, Dean."

Dean couldn't help but smirk. Sam hadn't been too argumentative lately. Or playful, for that matter. It was comforting to fall back into their old rhythm of back-and-forth bantering. "Aww, look at you gettin' all jealous. It's ok, little brother. I may hafta flirt to score some pie but you know I'll always come home to you." Dean chuckled, pushed the present aside and got up to throw away the paper scraps, reaching over and slapping Sam's ass on his way across the room.

Sam yelped "Cut it out!" and kicked a leg in Dean's direction. He sidestepped it, causing Sam's kick to land in empty air and making Dean laugh louder.

Sam huffed out an irritated breath, mumbled something that sounded like "act like you're 12" and then reached down and grabbed the present off the floor. Dean watched from across the room - Sam's eyebrows lifted high up on his forehood as he read the tag that said To: Sammy From: Your Awesome Big Brother

"This is for me?" Sam somewhat squeaked in surprise. Dean started back towards his brother as he saw him rise to a sitting position while gawking at the present in his hand.

"Well, yeah. Who the hell'd you think it was for?"

Sam shrugged slightly, "I dunno. It's just..."

Sam sat there staring down at the present, slightly shaking his head.

"Oh geez, don't cry. It's no big deal."

"M'not. I just ... I didn't know we were exchanging gifts. I didn't get you anything." Sam looked up at him with such a sad expression that all Dean could see was his 9-year-old brother wishing he could unhear that monsters were real.

"Well, you coulda gotten me pie if you weren't such a wussy."

Sam threw Dean a bitchface that morphed into an apologetic look, complete with tilted head and blinking eyes.

"Oh god, don't look at me like that. It doesn't matter. Ok? I don't need anything. Except for you to put the damn puppy eyes away, already."

Dean approached the bed Sam was sitting on, took the gift out of his hands and set it on the floor beside the bed. He then climbed onto his knees on either side of Sam's legs, gently pushing him onto his back with his chest against Sam's, slowly lowering himself until their faces were about an inch apart. He reached his left hand up to run his fingers through Sam's hair, slowly dragging them down the side of his face, knuckles brushing feather light, back on forth on Sam's cheek. Their gazes locked and Dean slowly moved in to meet Sam's mouth in a slow, passionate kiss. Suddenly he reached his other hand up and slapped a huge sticker bow to Sam's forehead. Sam jerked in surprise and Dean chuckled at the look of shock on his face. "You're all the present I need, Sammy."

Sam batted at Dean's hands in frustration, amusing Dean when he failed to remove the obnoxiously bright bow from his forehead. "Cute, Dean."

"Damn straight. And you're not bad either. God, I can't wait to open you," Dean drawled seductively, thrusting his pelvis hard into Sam's to emphasize his words.

Sam scoffed, a disgusted look on his face that he delivered along with a half-assed shove at Dean's shoulder. "Nice cheesy porn dialogue."

Sam may have been protesting but Dean couldn't help but feel his brother was already half hard against his hip. The feeling made his heart beat faster and he couldn't help grinding down into Sam, slow and hard. He'd learned a long time ago that this was one of the best ways to get that pissy expression off his brother's face. Dean's nothing if not knowledgable about all things Sam. Sure enough, a few soft and strategically placed kisses from Dean had Sam pressing his head back into the bed, exposing his neck, breathing out "Dean" and very quietly humming as Dean continued to kiss down his neck. Dean mouthed up to Sam's jaw and lightly bit the jawbone right below his ear before mumbling "I know, I'm totally disgusting," into Sam's ear. Dean placed his open mouth over Sam's rapidly increasing pulse and sucked the skin into his mouth, then placed small, nibbling kisses down to his collarbone, unbuttoning his shirt to give himself better access. Sam arched his neck and chest up into Dean's mouth, the fingers of one hand digging into Dean's back while the other hand was firmly pushing down on Dean's ass, causing their rapidly hardening lengths to rub against each other. Dean moaned his approval and finished unbuttoning Sam's shirt before rising up to his knees and pulling Sam up with him to a seated position - easier to rip the clothes off his little brother that way, Dean thought, quite happily. But when he looked up at Sam, his eyes darted around the room and back to Dean's face like a ping pong ball. "Sammy? You alright?"

Sam locked his eyes on Dean's and smiled. A little too sheepishly, in Dean's opinion. "M'fine. It's just...I don't know. It's been a while, ya know? Maybe I'm uh...maybe I'm nervous. A little." Dean squinted his eyes as Sam gave a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Uh huh. I totally believe that, by the way." Dean sarcastically responded while continuing to eye his little brother skeptically. For someone whose job made lying vital to survival, Sam sure was shitty at it when it came to lying to his big brother.

"Really, Dean. I'm fine. Hey, maybe I should open that present first."

"What? Now?"

Sam shrugged and smiled a little bigger, trying to look really innocent. Dean was positive Sam wasn't being completely forthcoming right now but he wasn't gonna push. Besides, who was Dean kidding? There's no weapon in his arsenal that can fight Sam's eyes. He sighed in resignation and huffed. "Fine. But you're making this up to me. Getting this turned on and having to suddenly turn it off can't be good for my health."

Sam nodded and actually rubbed his hands together when Dean reached down to the floor next to the bed and came back up with the present. He held it out of Sam's reach while reminding him, "Now remember Sam, it really isn't much so don't get too excited."

"Yeah, I'll do my best to keep calm," Sam snorted. Dean cocked his head slightly, trying to emphasize his warning before finally placing the gift into Sam's outstretched hands.

Sam tore into the present and handed the crumpled newspaper to Dean who then threw it behind him to land on the floor. Sam looked down at the cigar box he held in his hands. He lifted the lid and looked inside. "Huh."

"Huh?" Dean asked. "Do you even know what it is?"

Sam blinked a few times and grabbed a little laminated card out of the box. One little laminated card out of what appeared to be over 100 little laminated cards. "Did you make...I mean...when did you..."

"I told you it was no big deal. Yeah, I made 'em. Read one."

Sam cleared his throat and flipped the little card over in his hand. Written with permanent marker in Dean's scrawl it read "One Free Chick Flick Moment" Sam laughed softly and looked at his brother with what Dean figured to be equal parts surprise, amusement, gratitude and confusion.

Dean wiggled under his brother's close scrutiny, chuckling nervously and scratching at the back of his neck. He peered up at Sam and attempted to explain, "Ok well, there are better ones."

Sam kept his eyes on Dean's face, blinking his big eyes, and Dean could swear he was now looking at a 6-year-old. "C'mon, it's not like we live a normal lifestyle. I just wanted to give you somethin' that you could actually use. Maybe make it a little easier to live with me. Even though I still stand by the fact that I'm a joy to be around." Dean smirked and Sam looked back down at the box of cards in his hands. Dean continued, "I mean, I know sometimes I need a little push to give you some of the things you apparently need. So..."

Sam shook his head slowly as he turned the card over in his hand. Dean, for the life of him, couldn't interpret the look on his face, but it didn't seem as happy as Dean had hoped it would.

"There are different ones, Sammy. Read some more."

Sam made no move to put the card down and that was just making Dean even more nervous. "You hate it, don't you. Is it stupid?"

Sam blinked as if to clear his head and bring himself back to the conversation. "I ... what? No! Of course I don't hate it, Dean. I love it. I really do."

"It's ok Sammy, really. Like I said, it was no big deal. I just wanted to...I don't know." Dean reached over to grab the box away from Sam, who was now just staring at the box. At that Sam seemed to perk up a little and pulled the box out of Dean's reach. "No, Dean. I'm still looking at it. I'm just surprised, that's all." Clearing his throat, he added, "it's just not what I would have expected from you. I mean...what...when did you do all of this?"

Dean let out a sigh of relief at the idea that maybe Sam did like it after all. He knew it was a little dumb, kind of like a teenager trying to hand make a card for their mother but clearly being too old to really get away with it. "While you were in concussion land back at Rufus' cabin. You were out for quite a few days. It kinda helped, ya know? I was going outta my mind just sitting there in that stupid cast, waiting for you to wake the hell up."

Dean watched as Sam put the card back in the box and picked up another one. "One Night Of Boring Movies" Sam let out a loud and genuine laugh at that one. It was like music to Dean's ears. It had been so long since there was anything to laugh at. "Shotgun picks the music for ONE day." Sam laughed again and Dean considered this a huge success. The sound of Sam's laugh and the huge dimples lighting up his little brother's face was the best present Sam could ever give him. If he had been sure he could tell Sam that without crying like a big girl, he would've. But all bets were off when Sam looked up from the card and fixed Dean with slightly watery eyes and brought a hand up to his cheek. "I love it Dean, really. Thank you."

Dean felt the familiar sting of tears forming in his eyes but it wasn't the same as it usually was. Something felt different. There was an odd sensation in his stomach at that moment. In fact, it was so unfamiliar that he honestly couldn't identify it for a minute but as Sam leaned in to place a soft, chaste kiss to Dean's mouth, realization lit up Dean's brain like a pinball machine. It was happiness. Ok, probably not happiness, more like contentment but Dean learned a long time ago to take what he could get of the good stuff because in their lives it tended to be pretty damn sporadic. He kissed Sam back a little harder, but not much. He was just so relieved that Sam hadn't laughed him out of the room. Sure, he could've bought Sam something with money he didn't really earn or a stolen credit card that probably would've gotten them tracked by a frickin' Leviathan. But there was no point in having anything of monetary value and they both knew at a very young age that those things were less than temporary considering the way they live.

He watched as Sam sifted through a few more of the cards with alternating looks of amusement, a few even making a blush explode on his cheeks, and then there were a few that invoked looks of raw, heartfelt emotion.

And then Dean, being the complete moron that he was, let something slip past his filter and fly out of his mouth before he could stop it. "And ya know, this way, if you ever get really pissed at me and throw this in the garbage, it's not like it can't be replaced easily enough, so..." and the second he said it, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to bury himself in the mattress and never come back or crawl under the bed and let the dust bunnies kill him quickly and mercilessly so he didn't have to look up at his little brother's face and see all the damage that one stupid comment made. He didn't want to see all the pain that he knew would be looking back at him. In a couple dozen words, he probably set their relationship back two years and there was nothing he could do to turn back time. If only. So he sat there, head hanging down, his eyes squeezed shut as he slowly shook his head back and forth, silently berating himself. If he could kick his own ass, he'd do it. In a heartbeat.

He sat that way for at least two minutes but fuck if it didn't feel more like two hours. He heard Sam's breath hitch and his slight gasp when he first said it and since then there had been nothing but silence. And Dean, being the big-ass coward he wass, didn't have the balls to open his eyes. He just sat waiting for Sam to grab him and force him to face this conversation, for him to shake him by the shoulders, demand he open his eyes and talk this shit to death. But he didn't do any of those things. The anticipation killing him, Dean peeked over at his brother through squinted eyes and what he saw made him want to throw up. It made him want to reverse roles and grab Sam by the shoulders and shake him - force him to talk. But he was frozen, his heart dropping into his stomach, because at that moment, his strong, beautiful, brave but utterly broken little brother was staring past the end of the bed, fear and ... was it shame? ... all over his face, his thumb digging into his palm like he was trying to make an actual hole all the way through it. He was shaking so rapidly that the stupid box tipped over and little fucking cards spilled all over his god damned lap. And right then, Dean hated himself more than he ever had. But as much as he wanted to wallow in his own self-hatred, the need to take care of Sam, bring him back to reality, and beg for his forgiveness was overwhelming. "Sammy? Sam!" Dean bellowed with as much of his commanding voice as he could muster. "Sam! Look at me, dammit! I'm right here. That son of a bitch isn't real!" Dean grabbed his brother by the biceps and forced him to turn so they were facing each other. Dean then grabbed both sides of Sam's face with his hands and shook him a little. "I'm sorry, man. Please, don't check out on me now. Come on, dammit! Look at me! Sammy!"

Sam gulped in a pretty big, albeit shaky breath and rapidly blinked his eyes - his thumb still digging into his hand. He looked a little dazed as he started babbling. "I'm...s'ok. Stone number one...it's different...this is real...s'gonna be ok. S'gonna be ok."

Dean's face scrunched up; he felt as the tears sprung from his eyes and his nostrils flared while he scanned Sam's face, his hunched over posture, his fucking' hand, and he just got more and more pissed. He was furious. Furious with Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, the whole damn world. But mostly, Dean was pissed at himself. Himself and his brother. Look what saving the world cost them - what it cost Sam. The world didn't deserve to be saved because clearly it didn't get how incredible Sam was. It just chewed him up and spit him out over and over again, ending up more broken and damaged than the time before. And his only reward was a worthless big brother who couldn't protect him from any of it. Dean was ripped from his thoughts by his brother's soft, scratchy voice. "D'n. M'okay. C'n you leggo o'my head. Pl's?"

Dean jerked a little in surprise at hearing his brother's words and then noticed how tightly he was still gripping Sam's face.. "Sammy. Is he...are you alright? You with me now?"

"Yeah..m'sorry. I..uh..m'okay." Sam huffed out a small little nervous chuckle but Dean knew he was only doing that to cover up how freaked out he still was. Dean nodded slightly, eyes raking over Sam's face as he released his death grip on his brother's head, slowly running his hands down over his shoulders, grasping them momentarily and then continuing to slide loosely down the length of his arms before finally landing in his own lap with a thud.

"Sammy, I'm so, so, sor-"

"No Dean, forget it. It wasn't you. He just has impeccable timing, ya know? That one was just too fun for him to pass up, I guess. How uh...how long was I..."

Dean looked down at his own hands, shakily picking at a hangnail. "Few minutes."

Dean saw Sam nod out of the corner of his eye and followed his gaze to where it was fixed on his own hands. He had finally stopped digging into his palm and was now just rubbing his fingers lightly over it.

"S'it hurt?"

Sam startled slightly at Dean's question and looked up at his brother. "Huh? Oh, no. I mean, well, yeah but s'okay. It's a real pain, right?" Sam flashed him one of the weakest smiles Dean had ever seen. But at least he was back and making sense now that Satan Vision was off the air. For now, anyway.

Dean understood Sam's need to feel real pain. He was the one who reminded Sam in the first place. Pain in Hell was totally different than pain in real life. Real pain felt more real, there just wasn't a better way to describe it. It felt like something you could deal with, a problem you could actually solve. In Hell, everything is hopeless. The pain is soul deep, not like a mere physical wound. So Lucifer is just a reminder of the soul-deep anguish his little brother suffered in the cage. Real pain grounds him. Reminds him of what's real and what isn't. It just sucked out loud that Sam's only option was to choose between two different kinds of pain.

The possibility then struck Dean that if pain grounded Sam, maybe pleasure would too. Lucifer may get his rocks off mentally torturing his little brother but he couldn't touch pleasure, could he? Dean was sure he couldn't. Because nowhere in Sam's mind would he associate Lucifer with any kind of pleasure. Even if the cage was anything like the rest of Hell, which he was sure it was, probably a million times worse, and that son of a bitch forced himself on Sam, it still feels different. Dean forced the bile back down his throat that was threatening to come up because he knew. He knew without a doubt that had happened to Sam. It certainly happened to Dean on a consistent basis when he was in the pit. But still, it felt different. Even when they tried to fool him with Sam's face, Sam's body. He always knew it wasn't him long before they revealed themselves because it just wasn't the same. Shoving those thoughts deep down, he tried to focus his mind. If extreme physical pain helped keep Sam in the reality zone, extreme physical pleasure should do the same.

Before he could decide if he should mention any of this to Sam, Dean looked at his brother who was studying him. Almost like he was waiting for something. Sam's eyes were glued to his. Dean held his gaze for a short moment before he had to look away again. He gathered the cards that had scattered all over and slipped them in the box, pushing it out of the way, knowing damn well Sam's eyes were on him the whole time. He remembered what he blurted out about the amulet and let out a long sigh, deciding to deal with first things first. He was apprehensive to give Lucifer, hallucination or not, another shot but needed to say something anyway. "Listen Sammy, about what I said before..."

"Dean, really, it's o-"

Dean held up his hand, instantly cutting Sam off. "Just...let me say this. We've been ignoring it for years, with good reason, but I still...I have to say this, ok?"

Sam swept his hand out in a gesture allowing Dean to finish.

"I uh..." Dean scratched at the back of his head, a nervous chuckle spilling from his mouth as he desperately searched for the right words. "I'm sorry." He stated simply. "I...for so many things really, but you have to know that one of my biggest regrets is what I did that day. And I uh...I just...I need you to know that when you were gone? There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about that damn necklace, wishing I had it back." He drew in a deep breath for courage and to gather his thoughts before continuing.

"I was just so damn angry...frustrated, ya know? Well, you do know - you were there. Anyway, I...I did it to hurt you, I'm not denying that, but...I also...I fucked up being a big brother so badly, leaving you, not protecting you. So I blamed myself. And I blamed you too. Even for things that weren't your fault. I know now we were both played and if I could take it back..."

Dean met Sam's eyes and wasn't surprised when he saw tears settling there. "You had every right to be mad, Dean."

"Well, whatever. Just know that I'll never...I...God, I suck at this. I will never give up on you like that again. Ok? Not ever. And I shouldn't have said what I said before. I honestly have no idea where that came from."

The emotion in Sam's eyes was heartbreaking and Dean just wanted to be done with this conversation. He looked around the room, scanning for some kind of alcohol to dull the fucking ache in his chest before he remembered there wasn't any in here. He purposely left it in the car because today was going to be a good day. Yeah. Right.

"Dean, look at me. I love you, man, you know I do..." Dean snorted and rolled his eyes at that because seriously? So not helping right now - he was pretty damn sure he didn't deserve it. "Just...let me finish...ok? I love you but you have got to stop doing this to yourself. Just stop it. Stop blaming yourself for shit that...that's not even on you."

"But Sam -"

"No, I mean it. You said it yourself, Dean. We were played. By everyone. But we still stopped it. Together. And we'll stop the next pain in the ass that comes around the corner, too. And if we don't? At least we'll be together. Right? OK?"

"Yeah, but I -"

"And forget about what you said. You say stupid shit all the time. I stopped listening to you years ago."

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked up at Sam who was grinning mischeiviously at him. He felt like he should be offended but really, Sam was right and they both knew it. Still, if he hadn't opened his big mouth, Lucifer probably wouldn't have dropped in like that.

"He's been here on and off all day, Dean."

Dean wrinkled up his forehead, studying Sam's matter-of-fact expression. Did he say that out loud?

"I know exactly what you're thinking, man. He didn't just pop into my head because of something you said. I mean...God...that's my point! Why do you always jump at the chance to blame yourself for everything?"

Sam's frustrated expression instantly softened and he scooted closer to nuzzle his face into Dean's neck. Dean's arms instinctively moved up to wrap around his brother. Sam started laying small, soft kisses on Dean's neck while whispering reassuring words. "C'mon Dean. Let's just celebrate Christmas together. Please?"

Dean's eyes closed at the first feel of Sam's lips on his overheated skin. He wasn't sure why he was trying so hard to hang on to the negative crap but he decided to quit dwelling on it and gave in, melted into Sam's touch and angled his head to give his brother better access. Sam obviously took the hint - his mouth opened more and his kisses got bigger, longer, wetter until he was sucking hard, pretty much biting, over Dean's thumping pulse. Sam pulled away slightly and slowly rose to his knees. He shifted his position and lifted one leg to settle on the other side of Dean's outstretched legs. Once he was straddling Dean's thighs, he raised both of his hands to cup Dean's face. Dean just stared at his brother, watched him take control and was suddenly filled with so much want, so much need for Sam he thought he could very well explode from it. He reached his hands up too and mirrored Sam by cupping his face before leaning forward to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. One of them, Dean's not sure who, probably both of them, let out a moan that sounded like it had been restrained for centuries as they continued to feed off of each other's mouths like it was the best thing they had ever tasted - and Dean's pretty sure it was. Their tongues met, gliding over and swirling around each other, as Dean slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth over the corner of their mouths where they were joined. Sam pulled back just long enough to lick Dean's bottom lip, suck it into his mouth and lightly bite down, tugging it, letting it go and then plunging back into Dean's mouth. Sam was, without a doubt, the best kisser on the planet, Dean was sure of that. And if he didn't have a visceral need to ravish his brother's entire body with his hands, fingers, mouth, and tongue, he was pretty sure he could spend every remaining minute of his life just like this. Just kissing his brother. He was positive he would die happier than anyone ever had. Sam reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Dean's and rested his forhead on his shoulder. After about 20 seconds, Dean nudged Sam with his shoulder. "You alright? Sammy?"

"I'm great, Dean."

But Dean wasn't convinced. And that was just it. He grabbed Sam's face and lifted it up so they were at eye level with each other. "I'm right here, Sammy. Don't think about any thing else but us right now. I'm here with you. Just focus on me."

Sam nodded determinedly and their eyes were locked on one another, neither of them wavering. Dean kept one hand grasping the side of Sam's head and his other hand ran down the length of Sam's back, all the way down to his ass, pulling Sam further onto his lap until they were flush against each other. Sam let out a broken groan, still looking into Dean's eyes and clutching onto his shoulders, fingertips digging into his muscles. Then he rocked down hard into Dean. The feeling of their erections rubbing together, even through their jeans, was so damn good and yet maddening at the same time - both of them moaning at the sensation. Dean pulled Sam's head closer so their foreheads met, never losing eye contact and ground his hips up to meet Sam's downward rocking thrusts.

"God, Sammy. Want you so much." He wasn't even sure Sam could hear him, the sounds of the bed creeking, the loose headboard already knocking against the wall, and their combined breathing drowning out pretty much everything else.

They kept grinding against each other, thrusting, and breathing hot into the face of the other, open lips dragging across skin. All the while, Dean's hands were rubbing up and down Sam's back, only to land on his ass every few seconds to push his entire pelvis down into his own. Foreheads still together, eyes focused on each other, deep heavy breathing into each others' mouths, Sam groaned while breathlessly trying to respond. "Me too, Dean." Breath. "God." Breath. "S'been so long." Breath.

Sam's hands unclenched from Dean's shoulders to run over his collarbone, along his chest, down his stomach to his hips and then sliding together to meet at the button of Dean's jeans. Dean eyes closed for just a second before he remembered telling Sam to focus on him and instantly slammed them back open to see Sam's intense, golden-green-hazel stare burning into his.

Sam shoved his hand into Dean's open waistband, inside his rapidly wettening boxer briefs, grabbed his dick, just this side of painful, and gave it a few firm strokes before letting go to run his hand around and under Dean's ass. He raised his hips so Sam could fit his hands under him and yank his jeans and boxers down and out from under him. Sam started to scoot backwards on his knees, pulling Dean's jeans with him, down the length of his legs, his eyes never breaking from Dean's.

God, Dean was pretty sure Sam was gonna kill him. He wanted him so bad it physically hurt. Logically, he knew he was with him right now and yet, it hurt to see him a few feet away and not have his hands and mouth all over him. Dean couldn't explain to himself why but the pain of separation from Sam felt the same whether it was four feet or four miles, four days or four months. Sam was his little brother and pushed every last one of his fucking buttons all the damn time but he still found breathing nearly impossible without him. Dean dismissed the whole soulmates thing when Ash hinted at it but he knew it was true. He'd known long before that even. In the light of day, it was all just pansy shit that you didn't go around discussing with other people. But in reality? There was no doubt they were soulmates. It made perfect sense. It was the only thing in his life that ever had. And he knew Sam knews it too. He just never realized it was possible to want, to need, to love another person like that. Except he totally did know because he'd spent his whole life loving Sam in every possible way.

Dean watched as his brother kneed backwards off the bed, pulled off his boots and jeans and then stood up. Dean was lounging on the bed, back propped up against the headboard, cock as hard as a tire iron, curving up and leaking precome all over his shirt. He watched as Sam, never taking his eyes off Dean, stood at the end of the bed and slowly stripped out of his clothes. First went the shirt, then the t-shirt underneath, and then Sam's long fingers were working the buttons on his jeans. He was still looking Sam in the eye but thank God...or whoever, for peripheral vision because he could still see all of that golden skin revealing itself inch by inch as Sam's jeans dropped down to pool at his ankles before he stepped out of them and climbed back onto the bed on his hands and knees. Crawling back up the length of his body, Sam settled himself on Dean's thighs, their achingly hard, throbbing cocks finally brushing against each other. They both moaned and Dean's pretty sure he got out some form of "God, Sammy" before Sam swept down and devoured his mouth with his own. Again, it was all tongues and teeth and panting, hands rubbing and grabbing all over each other. Dean's heart was beating out of his chest, he was dizzy from a serious lack of oxygen due to his brother's tongue jabbing into his mouth over and over while Dean held onto Sam's ass like it was some kind of life preserver. And right now, he could give a pretty good argument that it actually was. Sam had Dean's shirt off in no time at all and when he got his arms back from being undressed, he latched onto Sam's hips and started lifting, forcing Sam to straighten up onto his knees. On the bed. Straddling Dean. Putting his cock at just the right level to..."Sammy, c'mon. C'm'ere." Sam slowly and unsurely hobbled forward until Dean, still grasping his hips, pulled him all the way to his mouth and took in as much of Sam's cock as he possibly could in one go. He pressed on Sam's ass, trying to encourage him to pump back and forth, all while looking up at his little brother looking down at him, a mix of uncertainty and love and guilt and want and regret and lust and it was all just too much. Dean pulled his mouth off Sam with a small pop and looked up at him. Sam's eyes were straying and darting off to the corner. "Please Sam, focus on me. Lemme do this. If real pain works, I'm thinkin' real pleasure will too. Just...let me try." Sam eyes latched back onto Dean's and he gave a slight nod, a barely-there jerk of his head, so Dean decided to go all in. He licked the head of Sam's cock, tongue digging into the slit, the tanginess of precome oozing onto his tongue. Sam made a noise, a whimpering noise, from the back of his throat, but he didn't look to be in any pain so Dean kept going with it. Again, he grabbed his brother's ass and pulled him closer until he had Sam's cock buried in his mouth again, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as hard as he could without it being painful. Sam slammed one hand against the wall in front of him to brace himself and the other latched down onto Dean's shoulder. Dean looked up at him. He was beautiful, hair hanging down in his eyes, face flushed and already dripping with sweat. He started gasping, grunting, babbling and Dean had to grin a little around his mouthful because a babbling Sammy was a happy Sammy. At least during sex, anyway.

Sam tenatively picked up a rhythm and started half thrusting into Dean's mouth as Dean swirled his tongue up and down and around his brother's massive length, letting precome and saliva leak out of his mouth, slicking up his chin and lips, making it easier for Sam to slide in and out. "Mm'Dean..man, m'not gonna last.." But Dean just pushed on Sam's ass faster with one hand, reaching down with the other to lightly wrap his fingers around Sam's balls, caressing them and gently squeezing them. He relaxed his throat to take just a little more...in and out and in and out. Sam's breathing sped up, it got louder, he was moaning louder, too. Dean started humming, squeezing Sam's balls a little bit more. "Dean...God" Dean ran his fingers from Sam's ass down and in, seeking his brother's hole, finding it, rubbing at it, and gently pushing a finger in, not enough to actually enter, just enough to make Sam's breathing speed up even more. Finally, he dropped his head back as far as he could, the change in angle relaxing his throat completely and encouraging Sam. He started full-on thrusting at this point, fucking Dean's mouth, lifting his hand from Dean's shoulder to run along the seam of his mouth where it was stretched around his cock, pumping in and out. Dean looked up just as Sam looked down, their eyes locked and Sam let out a broken sob of a moan followed by Dean's name falling from his mouth with a gasp. Suddenly Sam's thrusts became jerky, erratic, and Dean felt his mouth and throat fill with Sam, spurt after spurt, and he swallowed, again and again, still looking at Sam's eyes that had slammed shut for a moment but were now slowing cracking open to gaze down at him. Sam's thumb was still rubbing at the corner of Dean's mouth, although much slower now and he started repeating Dean's name in between heavy breaths, trying to slow his breathing. Dean slowly eased his brother back until the softening flesh fell from his lips. He stretched his head forward and pressed a long kiss to Sam's hip before wrapping his arms around his waist and lowering him down. Post-orgasmic Sam was very pliable and lowered without much encouragement, settling onto Dean's thighs and leaning forward to lazily kiss his brother. It was soft and gentle at first, just open lips laying on open lips, but then it slowly deepened and Sam moaned into his mouth and Dean echoed that moan right back into Sam's.

"Damn. That was..." But Sam couldn't get any more words out before slumping forward onto Dean's chest and dropping his forehead to rest just above his heart. "Just...just give me a second."

Dean rubbed his hands up and down Sam's back before tangling one of them into the back of his hair, running his fingers through the sweaty silkiness and kissed the top of his head. He mouthed into Sam's hair, "take all the time you want, man. M'not going anywhere."

Dean just held his brother like that, rubbing his back, running his fingers through the soft hair on the back of his neck and kissing the top of his head until finally Sam's breathing started evening out.

"So.." Dean croaked out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "So, if that was you nervous, I'd love to see you when you're confident."

Sam lifted his head at that and smirked. "That almost sounds like a challenge."

"What? No! That'd be...I mean, would that...is there...well, something you wanna prove? Or something?" Dean stuttered like an idiot. Sam giggled fondly and reached down to grab Dean's still painfully hard dick. Dean's pretty sure the whimpering sound he just made wasn't entirely manly but with Sam's ginormously long fingers wrapped around him like that, he decided he could live with a little humiliation.

Sam seemed to have gotten his second wind and started pumping Dean's cock not too slow but not fast enough to get anywhere anytime soon and it was agonizing. Then he dropped his mouth to Dean's ear and with hot breath asked in a gravelly low voice, "what do you want, big brother?" If the voice didn't do it, the words did, because it was at that very moment a huge glob of precome oozed out and Dean's vision started to black out in the corners.

Dean wasn't sure if he was even capable of speech at the time so he didn't even bother to answer beyond letting out a gasping breath. He was pretty confident in Sam's ability to figure something out anyway.

"Know what, Dean? I got this one." At that, Sam reached forward, behind Dean and grabbed something from under the pillow. "Huh. Look what Santa left us." Dean glanced over his shoulder, his eyes following Sam's hand as he brought it back between them holding a little bottle of lube. Dean smirked and then snorted at his brother. "Yeah, I'm the one with cheesy porn dialogue."

Sam just raised an eyebrow and shrugged, placing the bottle into one of Dean's hands and grabbing the other, pulling it back to wrap around him. He lifted up to his knees again and bent forward, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't need to be told twice. He popped open the lid of the bottle and squeezed out the lube to coat his fingers. Reaching around Sam, he held his cheeks apart with one hand while the other sought out the small opening. When he found it, he massaged and rubbed small circles around the rim before slowly sliding a finger in all the way. It had been months since they had done this, mostly because neither of them were in the mood. Not even a little. But they both needed it now. They needed to reconnect. And Dean really wanted to give Sam something else to focus on besides pain to keep the devil out. It seemed to be working so far so he went with it. He started pumping his finger slowly in and out, amazed at how tight his brother was, every single time. Sam was rocking back onto Dean's finger, his already more than half hard cock bobbing into Dean's chin. Dean kissed the head and then sucked it into his mouth. Sam was breathing heavy again, rocking back and forth, alternating between Dean's finger and his mouth. Dean pressed in a second finger alongside the first, again, all the way in and pulled his mouth off of Sam. He turned his head up to look at his brother as he spread his fingers apart as far as they could go, continuing to pump in and out. Sam dropped his head forward, his chin on his chest, releasing rapid little sighs of pleasure. Dean couldn't think of a time he'd been more turned on in his life. He added two more fingers immediately after that, twisting his wrist while wriggling his fingers inside, trying desperately to find that little nub of nerves that cause Sam to make all of those beautiful noises that Dean absolutely loved. Sam then started moaning and grinding down so hard onto Dean's hand that he worried Sam was going to come again just from this. He loved getting his brother off but he really wanted to be inside Sam with more than just his fingers. As if reading his thoughts, Sam leaned back and said "Enough Dean. M'ready."

Dean pulled his fingers out and brought his hand around to grab his own cock, stroking up and down, using the lube all over his hand to slick up his aching length. Sam inched forward on his knees and Dean reached around his leg, holding his dick in place while Sam slowly lowered himself. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam's hand on his cock, angling it towards Sam's hole. Once the head was breaching the rim he let go and held onto Sam's hips, guiding him down. Sam sunk quickly, burying his brother inside him as far as he could. His breath hitched as he wiggled and rolled his hips, shifting forward and back, side to side and Dean had to bite down hard on his own lip to keep from crying out. Fingertips digging into Sam's hips, he slowly guided Sam up and then Sam took over, bracing his hands on Dean's chest and sinking back down hard and throwing his head back.

Dean leaned up away from the headboard, shifting Sam's arms away so he could wrap his tightly around Sam's waist and bury his face into his shoulder. Sam grabbed the headboard beyond Dean for leverage and started rising and falling onto Dean, snapping his hips slightly as he did. Dean bit into Sam's shoulder, emitting small grunts while thrusting his hips up as Sam would lower down again, trying as hard as he could to get as far up inside Sam as possible.

Sam cried out and Dean let up on his shoulder. "Dean...God...Dean..." He didn't get any more coherent and actually Dean was proud of him for even managing that. All he could get out were a few grunts and groans, thrusting up again and again. They were wrapped around each other, chest to chest, groin to groin, Sam impaling himself on Dean over and over. Sam's granite hard cock was pressed between their stomachs, which was no doubt creating some nice friction for him judging by the amount of stickiness Dean could feel all over his abdomen. His hands dropped to Sam's ass, digging his fingertips in, squeezing and pulling and pushing, helping Sam along with his upward and downward motions. He reached one finger down and could feel where they were connected, could feel his own cock as Sam's hole was sliding up and down over it. It was so fucking hot and he felt his balls tighten up. He really didn't want this over so soon but he wasn't sure how long he could last considering Sam was fucking himself on Dean faster and harder every minute.

Dean started to lay back again, Sam following him down before again bracing his hands on Dean's chest. He reached his head up causing Sam to lean his down, smashing their mouths together, licking and biting at each others lips and tongues, heavy breathing and loud groaning passing back and forth between them. Sam kept pistoning his hips back and forth while stil sliding up and down, both of them at a better angle now to get a steady rhythm going.

Sam broke his lips away from Dean's and looked down at his brother, Dean almost coming at the sight. Sam's lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, hair sticking up everywhere, chest and stomach muscles rippling and twisting with every movement under all that bronze skin that was dripping wet with sweat. But his eyes...his eyes were so intense, filled with so much trust and love that Dean almost burst into tears. That is until Sam threw his head back and let out a growling moan and huffed, "fuck Dean, right there." Dean shifted down and laid back as far as he could, pillows propping him up slightly, grabbed Sam's hips to hold him steady, dug his heels into the bed and just started pounding up into Sam as hard as he fucking could, over and over and over, relentlessly, not stopping. It was so damn good, Sam's deep voice reduced to a quivering whimper, breaths puffing out through his nose with each thrust, as if Dean was driving them out. Sam's legs were shaking with the effort of holding himself steady, which Dean figured was quite an accomplishment because he knew he was nailing Sam's prostate repeatedly. Dean's balls tightened close up to his body and he knew there was no stopping it now. He reached up, grabbed Sam's cock and tugged a couple times, growling, "Come on, Sammy. C'mon. Come for me, baby." That was all it took for Sam. Sam's mouth fell open and he let out a beautiful cry of pleasure as his muscles rapidly pulsed and clenched hard around Dean, come spilling over Dean's hand as he stroked his brother a few more times.

Sam then straightened up on his knees, arching his back and held onto Dean's thighs behind him as Dean drove himself up a few more times. Then all at once, Sam dropped his ass down hard as Dean pushed up one last time and held himself there, shooting deep inside his brother. He held like that for a few seconds, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but come. Sam started to subtely swivel his hips, grinding down and around, obviously trying to work Dean through it, all the while, his muscles still fluttering around Dean's cock. Dean instantly grabbed at Sam and pulled him down to lay on top of him, dick still buried in his ass. Dean babbled and muttered into Sam's skin as he smothered his face and neck with kisses "No one like you, Sammy. God, I love you. Can't live without my Sammy."

Words of endearment kept pouring out of Dean's mouth and he had no way of stopping them, even if he wanted to. And yeah, he knew this wasn't exactly normal behavior for him but in his defense, Sam just blew his freakin' mind. And those feelings were all real. This pleasure was real. And now he was certain that they both knew the difference.

Sam grabbed Dean's head in his hands, abruptly stopping his shower of kisses, placing their foreheads together. "I love you too, Dean. Thanks for...thank you."

Dean placed a tiny kiss on each of Sam's dimples, to which Sam breathed out a soft laugh, before placing one on his forehead. Then Sam lifted up, allowing Dean to fall from his body and flopped back down next to his brother, both of their chests still heaving, lying side by side, completely drained. Sam lazily dropped one hand on Dean's chest as they both stared up at the ceiling, trying to control their breathing. Then Sam turned his head slighty toward Dean and looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. "So, pleasure, huh? You think of that all on your own?"

Dean looked back at Sam and smirked. "There are some things they just don't teach in the Ivy League, little brother." Sam chuckled in response, his breathing still a little heavy as he said, "I think there are a few more cards I'd like to redeem tonight, you know, when you're ready again."

"Hey, I may be older but I am always ready again." Still, neither of them moved. Dean was probably overstating his ability but he was pretty sure he could find motivation again at some point tonight.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"Maybe a little nap first." Dean replied, moving his head in Sam's direction slightly to meet him in a lazy kiss. They broke apart slowly and locked gazes for a second before Dean laid his head back, closing his eyes and letting out a big sigh.

Sam reached over and grabbed the box of cards still lying on the top corner of the bed. He was looking through them when Dean opened his eyes, reached over and grabbed a few out of Sam's hands. He found one he liked and held it up. It read "One Free Shower Blow Job" Sam chuckled and said "Oh yeah, that's a good one."

After selecting a few more, Sam started to place the remaining cards into the box.

"Unh-uh, little brother. Not so fast." Dean reached over and grabbed the "One Free Chick Flick Moment" card out of the box. "This one's already been cashed in."

Sam snatched it back out of Dean's hand, put it in the box and closed it quickly, holding it behind him and shaking his head. "No way, man. That was YOUR chick flick moment, not mine."

Dean made a weak attempt at grabbing for the box but gave up the half assed effort and watched as Sam put the box of cards behind him on what probably used to be a nightstand. Sam handed over the cards he had chosen and Dean smiled as he read them.

"You sure you wanna use all these at once?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically with a big dopey grin on his face and it was infectious. Dean threw the cards over his shoulder and pushed his brother back down onto the mattress with his own body spread out over him, bringing his mouth to Sam's. He knew they both desperately needed a shower, maybe a nap, definitely some fluids, but feeling Sam's hands move their way up his back, fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders, Dean just deepened the kiss, making no move to get up. When they broke apart, he placed his forehead against Sam's and looked into the beautiful golden green hazel eyes that he'd spent his whole life getting lost in. A small laugh bubbled out of Sam's mouth and Dean decided then and there that that was actually the best sound he had ever heard.

"What's so funny?"

"You do realize there are over a hundred cards in there, right?"

Not sure what Sam was getting at, he placed a short kiss to his brother's soft, wet, swollen lips and nodded. "Uh huh."

"So then you also realize you're gonna be my bitch for like 3 months."

Dean stopped to look into Sam's eyes again, the urge to protest practically screaming in his head. But just then, Sam giggled and suddenly it was like they were teenagers again. That unfamiliar feeling started spreading through his chest again and Dean gave into it, letting it warm him up from the inside out. But the big brother in him won out again and he replied, "Look sasquatch, let's get one thing straight. Dean Winchester ain't nobody's bitch. Bitch."

"Whatever. You are so my bitch, Dean."

Dean wanted to argue more but maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he'd always been Sam's bitch in one way or another. Although, one thing's for sure - if he was Sam's bitch, it was only because he wanted to be Sam's bitch. Not that he's going to tell Sam any of that. "Maybe now I am. But you're gonna hafta teach me how to do it right. You're the pro."

Sam looked at him with amusement and maybe a little exasperation, shaking his head and smiling. "God, you're a jerk."

"Yeah yeah. You love me." He knew Sam wouldn't argue with that because it was true. And their love was real. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

"Yeah. Merry Christmas, Dean."