"Wake up, sleepyhead," Sam whispered, gently kissing his brother's cheek.
Dean stirred, securing his arm back around Sam's waist, but didn't wake.
Sam giggled. "Dean. Baby."
A grunt this time, but still no sign of actual consciousness.
Sam groaned, tightening his fingers in Dean's hair. "Deeean."
Finally, one eye fluttered and blinked open. "Sam?"
"C'mon," Sam insisted, pulling the blankets down to their waists. "You gotta get up."
Dean pulled them back up, covering his head and stilling himself again.
"De. Seriously. We have plans today, remember? We're gonna..." He trailed off, his face dropping. "You... do remember what today is. Right?"
Dean peeked one eye out over the cover. "Sam, I don't even remember what year it is. Gimme a minute to wake up."
Sam sat up against the headboard, crossing his arms and looking down.
"Hey," Dean began, reaching out to touch Sam's fingers. "What's the matter?"
Sam sighed. "Nothin'. Go back to sleep."
"But..." Dean pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he could make eye contact with Sam. "If I go back to sleep, half the food will be wasted."
Sam's brow furrowed and he met Dean's gaze. "What? What food?"
Dean gestured with his head to the tiny kitchenette of the room, a small smile on his lips.
Sam looked over to the table. His eyes widened in awe. There was a full array of breakfast food on the wooden surface, sausage, biscuits, eggs, bacon, pancakes, even some fruit for Sam. "How did... When did you..."
Dean chuckled. "When I went out last night. Wasn't meeting Garth. Went grocery shopping. I've been up for about an hour just prayin' you'd stay asleep long enough for me to get done." "You..." Sam's expression was dazed.
"You... cooked?"
"It ain't the eighth wonder, Sammy," Dean laughed, picking up his hand and kissing the back of it. "But if you're down with it, then so am I. Happy anniversary, baby boy."
Sam didn't know it was possible to love someone so much.