Dean goes first. It's their anniversary, and even if his angel husband keeps trying to tell them that the gift-giving portion of the evening isn't a competition, Dean knows it's just because Cas always wins. As thoughtful as Dean tries to be, Cas knows what the ex-hunter will love, even if he doesn't know it himself.

Dean thumbs Cas's gift inside his pocket. He didn't bother to wrap it, but he hoped Cas would appreciate it, anyway. Angels, let alone husbands, could be extremely difficult to shop for, and this gift. . . well, it was a bit of a risk. But, they'd both agreed not to spend money this year, so maybe it would level the playing field a little. Maybe. . .

So, Dean feels relieved when dinner is over and they are finally relaxed, cuddling on the couch, his Led Zeppelin mix tape playing in the background. At least he'd gotten that one right. . .

Dean's clears his throat, looking at his handsome husband, blue eyes crinkled at the sides with the start of a smile.

"Cas," he says, getting lost for a second, then, reaching in his pocket, he pulls out the small object.

"I didn't wrap it," Dean says, unable to look at Cas, though his cheeks are heating up, because, even after five years of marriage, sentimentality still makes him want to polish his guns for an hour. Even if he secretly loves these moments more than anything else.

So, unceremoniously, Dean sets the gift on the table in front of Cas, licking his lips in anticipation. And, he's watching Cas's face like a car crash waiting to happen, his heart thumping to the rhythm of: "you should have gotten a better gift, now I'm going to pump every vein in your body with anxiety."

Cas leans forward. His mouth falls open, and there's a look in his eyes. It's brief, but Dean knows. He knows he got the right gift. And Cas is smirking. He picks up the key, shakes his head, then full-on-laughs.

"Only took you five years to give me my own set," said Cas. Then, he reaches over and kisses Dean deeply, nearly knocking him off the couch.

Dean smiles, looking at Cas's face, wondering why he didn't do this sooner, because he thought he'd never been happier than at this very moment. And he can see what it means to Cas. Cas catches him staring, and he clears his throat.

"No taking her on gravelly roads," the ex-hunter says gruffly. "And keep her tank above half."

Cas smiles again at the key to the impala, then kisses his husband:

"Thanks, baby."

Dean leans back, putting both his hands behind his head in satisfaction: "So," he says, "I won the anniversary, huh?"

But Cas is smiling mischievously as he pulls out his gift, which is wrapped ornately with an obnoxious bow on top. And Cas is smiling proudly as he places it on Dean's lap.

Dean sees how excited the angel is to have him open the gift. The ex-hunter looks at the key to the impala on the table, biting his lip, then at Cas again.

"Damn," he says. He hadn't even opened the gift, and already he could tell, he'd lost.

"Open it," Cas says, his knee bouncing under the table. He's never been so excited about an anniversary gift before.

Cas sighs as he watches Dean's fight the ribbon while scowling at the wrapping. Dean's second and third fingers are completely tangled in the intricate bow that is now a complete mess.

"Damn wrapping," the ex-hunter curses, finally grabbing the knife from his back pocket and unceremoniously hacking the ribbons to shreds with a smug look on his face.

Cas shakes his head, smiling at his husband, because even though he knew it would end that way, he'd felt the need to wrap this gift extra special anyway.

He looks down at Dean's gift—a key of his very own to the impala. Cas feels his heart warming. The gift was sweet. Sentimental. And, any other year, Dean would have won the non-competition they had going for the best anniversary gift. But, not this year.

Cas holds his breath as he watches Dean tear at the wrapping with the same annoyed groan he uses when Cas suggests they get a cat. Then, finally, the ex-hunter is tearing open the box inside.

Dean's scowling in confusion for a moment as he reaches into the box, pulling out the sheets of paper. The ex-hunter's face is slack as he reads the first sentence.

Dean pauses, putting the wrapping paper and box aside gently now. Reverently, even, abandoning the brutality of before, his face softening as he covers his mouth with a closed fist. He's reading the same sentence over and over again on his lap, clutching Cas's hand tightly with his free one while blinking rapidly.

"Damn it, Cas—" he finally says, his voice grainy and tempting to break. And, he's pulling Cas in, kissing him hard and furious, but quickly breaking away with a smile, tears running down his face.

Cas bites his lip, looking at his husband, who'd waited for Cas's answer to this question for almost as long as the angel had waited for his own set of keys to the impala.

And Dean's looking happier than Cas has ever remembered when he looks down at his lap:

"Adoption papers," the ex-hunter says, marveling quietly.

Cas kisses his husband on the forehead. Then, putting his head on his Dean's shoulder: "Adoption papers."

Then, very, very quietly, the angel whispers: "I win."