It was only six o'clock and it was already pitch dark outside. Only lights that Sam could see when he looked out of the window were faintly glowing Christmas lights on the small porch of their current apartment. Dean had insisted on having the lights up and even set them there himself. Sam thought it was nice of him to make the effort to have 'normal' December. Snow was falling heavily, big flakes landing on the already high drifts. It was a perfect weather considering it was the eve.

Sam was sitting in the middle of the living room on an old fuzzy carpet, staring blankly at the TV screen. Home Alone was rolling, as it was every Christmas, and Sam didn't pay it much attention. He had drifted off to his own thoughts; he thought about Dad, and he worried about Dean. He thought it wasn't fair for him to be left here spending the night alone, especially when it was a special kind of event. Not that they ever had had any real holiday traditions as a family, to be honest he'd rather spend the night on a hunt with Dad and Dean, but they wouldn't let him come with.

It's too dangerous, Dad had said.

You'll be better off here, where it's warm and cozy rather than wet and cold, Dean had said.

It was true that Sam liked things comfortable. But he couldn't get himself relaxed when he was alone, especially not when he knew that his family could be in danger. He nervously picked at the long threads of the carpet and kept glancing at the clock. They said they probably wouldn't be back until the small hours, and that he should go to sleep before that.

Screw it, Sam thought, irritated.

I'm 13, I can decide when I go to sleep myself. Maybe I'll just stay up till the morning! He puffed out a breath and pouted to himself.

Sam got off the floor and turned down the TV volume. He paced around the small apartment looking for something to catch his eye and give himself something to do to pass the time. He had already read all of his books – some of them twice – and he never was any good at writing himself. Should he go for a walk? A glance throught the window answered that, no, he wouldn't want to get cold.

Sam padded to the kitchen which was practically the same room as the livingroom. Nosing around the fridge and cabinets he decided on baking something. Maybe a pie? He hadn't gotten any gifts for his brother this year, and he was well aware that pie would make Dean more than happy.

As he startet to gather the bowls and cups and ingredienst that were needed, he wondered if he was going to get anything this year. Maybe dad had gotten them something little like last Christmas - he had bought Dean a new pocketknife, and a set of old records for Sam. They had changed the presents afterwards without dad noticing, because Dean already had a knife (that he apparently had grown feelings for), and Sam didn't care much for music – at least not that kind of music. Sam and Dean didn't usually get presents for each other, though there had been a few exceptions in the past. Sam wanted to make this year an exception too.

In no time the young Winchester had whipped up a delicious looking light brown dough, and had managed to make the filling too. He had decided to make it cinnamon-apple, all American style; it even had the butter crust on top. Sam shoved the thing in the oven and sat down waiting. He slumped in his chair and let his bangs fall over his tired eyes. His thoughts drifted back to the presents and realized that dad and Dean probably won't even remember it's Christmas tomorrow, they would've said something, right? Merry Christmas, Sam, just in case we have to stay longer, or Bye then, Sammy, don't let anyone in, even Santa, he's not real, remember?

It would make sense though, this year they hadn't really had much time to think about any of the holidays; they were just like any other days would be, mostly spent on hunts or driving for hours from state to state. When dad and Dean were on a hunt, Sam would be alone at a motel room, sitting in Impala or some temporary apartment like this one he was in right now. They had setteled in here about a month ago, and Sam guessed they would be long gone before Spring, Sam getting dragged along with his family that was apparently living for killing things.

Sam heard the front door click and instantly grabbed a knife from the counter and crouched behind the table. It probably was just Dad and Dean coming home early, but he wasn't sure – better to be safe than sorry. He couldn't see to the hall from where he was, so he just listened. A pair of shoes thumping, a soft cough followed by a sniffle. By this time Sam was almost sure it was his big brother, but still remained silent and hidden.

Dean's steps were soft – he had taken off his snowy shoes – as he walked through the short hall, entering the big room which was a kitchenette and a living room at the same time. "Sammy?" he called out, his voice hoarse and weak, sounded like he had caught a very bad cold. Sam's head peeked behind the table, looking surprised but happy.

"Dean! Where's dad?" he straightened himself and put the knife back on the counter. He didn't sound too worried, it wouldn't be the first time Dean got sent home from a hunt, he was just genuinely curious. And happy. Happy on the top of it.

"Still tracking it down," Dean answered and threw off his leather jacket on the kitchen chair. "He sent me home, I think I'm sick." He held his head dramatically and slumped over to the couch, collapsing onto it.

Sam followed his brother and stopped beside the couch. Dean really did look like he was sick; face pale, eyes on the side of red and the boy was shivering from head to toe. Even if Sam felt bad for him, he couldn't hide the excitement that was bubbling inside, knowing that he was gonna have his big brother all to himself for the whole Christmas.

"You just wait there, I'm gonna get you something," Sam patted Dean gently on the shoulders, pushing him down on the sofa to lay down. Dean gladgly obeyed and closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

"You always get so maternal when someone's sick," Dean teased, since it was his job as a big brother to make Sam doubt his decisions in life and such.

Sam shrugged the "insult" off his shoulder with a light chuckle and made his way to the bedroom. "Well you two are so helpless even with the smallest flu, someone has to make sure that you get through it alive," he called out from the bedroom as he was shedding his too heavy clothes to replace them with something more comfortable: one of Dean's cute Christmas sweaters - it was way too big for Sam, it reached him to mid-thigh -, and a pair of plaid pajama pants. Sam heard a loud sneeze coming from the main room, grabbed a blanket from his own bed and hurried back to Dean.

Dean had stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, the wet and messy over-clothes piling on the floor beside the couch. He had curled himself to a ball, hugging his knees, only taking one and a quarter places of the whole sofa. Sam thought he looked like a small animal and wanted to snuggle and cuddle him all warm and healthy. Instead he just covered the shivering body with a blanket, and pushed the sides under, making sure none of the warmth would be able to escape.

"There, that better?" Sam gave out a warm smile as Dean cracked his other eye open and nodded. Sam caressed his brother's cold cheek quickly and then retreated back to the kitchen, smell of apple pie was filling the whole apartment which must be a sign that it was almost ready.

He took the bright red oven mittens and pulled the pie out. It burned through the fabric and made Sam hiss and clank as he quickly put - almost threw - the pie on top of the oven. Dean asked if he was okay, Sam just mmhm'd an answer and his lips curled up at the thought of his brothers surprise when he was gonna carry a plate full of his favorite pie in front of him soon. It was actually perfect for the situation that Dean's nose was probably so full of gob that he couldn't even smell anything beforehand.

Dean snored lightly, his lips slightly parted, drool dripping from the side of his mouth. Sam felt almost bad to have to wake him up, but he was too pumped for the fact that he was gonna spend the Christmas with Dean and even had the perfect present for him. He laid the plate and the glass full of milk on the low table and sat by his brother's feet. He carefully placed his hand on Dean's thigh and shook gently. "Dee?"

As the first whisper gained no reaction, Sam repeated a little louder and made Dean grunt and shift under the blanket. Sam knew it was the sign to fuck off, let me sleep.

"Wake up, I've got something for you," Sam spoke louder now and nudged his brother. Dean groaned and rubbed his eyes, then propped himself up on one shoulder to look at Sam. He almost instantly got a glimpse of the goods on the table and gasped.

"What's that?!" Dean sounded surprised and amazed.

"Well what does it look like?" Sam chuckled and leaned forward to get the plate. He waited for Dean to get into a sitting position and turned towards him, they were now facing each other.

"I didn't really have any time or money to buy you anything special, so I thought I'd bake you your favorite," Sam started and blushed a little, "sorry it's not gift-wrapped, but I hope this is okay."

Dean smiled widely and even through the haze of his illness and groggyness, his eyes were sparkling. Sam was always so thoughtful, and he hadn't even realized today was the eve. He hoped that his little brother wouldn't be too disappointed to find that he wasn't going to get anything, at least not today. Maybe tomorrow they could go for banana pancakes or something.

"Thanks, Sammy, it's great."

Sam smiled and tried to hand over the plate full of pie to Dean, but he remained motionless, just staring at the treat. He was completely covered with the blanket, only his head showing, which meant that his hands were trapped inside.

"Do you want it or not, I'm not gonna feed you, Dean," Sam smiled nervously as his brother glanced at him.

"But it's so cold in here..." he tried to pull off his best puppy dog eyes, but only One of the Winchesters could really do it, and it was Sam. The goofy look on Dean's face melted Sam's heart anyway and he gave in with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine, you big baby." Dean just smirked at the words, proud that he was able to boss Sam around with almost no words, always knew which strings to pull. He watched as Sam broke a piece off the pie, getting the warm sticky filling all over his fingers. He opened his mouth like a waiting bird chick with a loud 'aaa' sound.

Sam held a piece of pie with his two fingers and a thumb and brought it to Dean's open mouth. His brother eagerly took the piece in and closed his lips around Sam's fingers to quickly suck and lap them clean of the filling. The soft drag of Dean's tongue against his slim fingers made Sam shiver and blush, a weird feeling was building inside of him, but he couldn't quite place it. He pulled his hand away to get another piece and studied Dean's face to see if he liked the taste or not.

"Well?"

"Well, I think it's delicious."

"You think?"

"I barely can taste it with this stupid cold," Dean explained, looking a little sorry. "But I swear to God I love it! Now give me more, please." He opened his mouth again and leaned in closer.

It was late when Dean had satisfied his need for pie, with only a quarter of the whole thing left. Sam had teased Dean for getting chubby at that rate, Dean had flexed his muscles proving some point to Sam. Now the two of them were tightly wrapped inside the same blanket, huddled in very close to each other and watching a movie. Eventually Dean wrapped a hand around his little brother's waist and in response Sam had rested his head on Dean's shoulder. The moment was intimate, warm and familiar, both of them feeling safe and happy.

"Sam?" Dean said in a barely audible voice. Sam made a noise telling him he's listening, but was still very focused on the action scene on the screen.

"I didn't get you anything."

Sam lifted his head and turned his gaze to Dean. "It's okay, I didn't think you would," he chuckled softly, but continued quickly as he saw Dean's face fall into a quilty frown. "I mean, we've had a busy year! It's really okay." He smiled reassuringly and reached to softly stroke Dean's chest.

"Yeah, okay."

"Besides, uh.." Sam paused and buried his face against his brother's neck again. He knew how Dean felt about "chick-flick moments" and he was about to create one. "For me the best gift is that you're here with me..." he mumbled, and Dean didn't say anything for a good long moment. A moment that was long enough to make Sam's heart race and his palms sweat and a blush starting to creep up his neck all the way to his ears.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted. "Well ain't that frickin' sweet, Samantha," he said and Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, silently in his mind thanking Dean for breaking the tension with a joke. He laughed nervously and bumped his fist gently to his brother's shoulder.

"Just trying to be nice here, jerk."

Dean brought his hand under Sam's chin and lifted his head up. His grin morphed into a soft smile as he spoke. "I know, sorry. I like being here with you too. And because it's Christmas I can forget that you made this moment so sappy," his smile widened a bit and he moved his hand to Sam's warm and flushed cheek.

Sam's heart sped up again and he felt light-headed and confused. Sure they touched each other a lot, but in a setting like this Dean's big hand on his cheek felt different. Was he supposed to say something? To do something? He wanted to turn his gaze away, but Dean's eyes were so piercing he couldn't, so he just stared, waiting.

"Sam, you're supposed to say something here now," Dean finally spoke and let his hand fall to his brother's neck, chuckling a little. "I thought you had watched enough romantic movies to know that."

"Shut up, I never watch romantic movies!" Sam protested in an annoyed high-pitched voice. The moment was ruined and Sam was mostly glad. He couldn't help feeling just a little bit disappointed too though.

"I know you do."

"I do not."

"I saw you once."

"Shut up!"

"Shut up, bitch!"

"Jer-" Sam was cut off. He was cut off by Dean's lips on his own. They were both frozen for a second, before they both pulled away and silently settled back to watch the movie.

Dean shifted nervously and Sam could hear him swallow.

"Sorry."

"I liked it." Sam blurted, clutching a tighter hold of Dean's upper body. The kiss was out of place and awkward, but it had made Sam tingle in all the good ways. He really had liked it, so much that he wasn't even embarrassed to admit it. He felt Dean's chest lower as he breathed out a long sigh, and even though Sam couldn't see his face, he could hear the smile in his voice when he said Merry Christmas, Sammy.

"Merry Christmas, Dee."

He closed his eyes, too overwhelmed with feelings to focus on the television, and leaned heavily on his brother. This truly was better than any gift he could ever have.