Authors Note: For the sake of this story lets pretend that pine needles don't brown and die, okay?

Warnings: Angst, Incest, Mentions of character death.

*** Special notice: I am in the process of deleting my other account and migrating the fics to this one. Please note that the prompts for this series were pictures.

Christmas Ornament

It was an art project for school. That year the teacher had them make a small ornament to hang on their tree. Sam was old enough to know he shouldn't mention there would be no tree for him that year, instead he shut his mouth and accepted the project. Like every other project, he looked over the list categorizing what he would need and how quickly he needed it. The project was simple, to put inside the small globe what Christmas meant to him.

He thought about leaving it empty.

Christmas wasn't something that his family celebrated, he had never believed in Santa or was allowed to leave offerings out the night before. Dean had done his best, making certain Sam had something to open on Christmas morning, though half the time it was stolen presents from neighboring upper-class families. Sam didn't mind so much, even if he occasionally got a Barbie instead of something more to his taste. Dean tried, and Sam loved him for it.

Loved him more than he should have.

Next year he would be entering high school, where he would be expected to date and be a member of their hunting family. All Sam wanted was Dean. He wanted his brother to stay with him, to choose Sam over their father, to run away, for it to be just the two of them. That night while he thought about his project in their rundown motel room, Sam couldn't help but look at Dean who was asleep in the other bed. Their dad was hunting a werewolf a town over, wanting to be close for the holiday. Sam didn't care if he was on the other side of the world.

Biting his lip, Sam thought of his school project and quietly snuck out of bed. Digging through the duffle Dad always left in case something came around, Sam took what he needed. Slipping the bullets into his school bag, Sam thought better than to take anything else which could point to the supernatural. Grabbing a couple of fallen piece of pine from the bottom of his boots, Sam went back to bed once his things were safely tucked away.

His small collection wasn't like the rest of his class. Unlike them, he didn't bring pictures of family, instead, he filled his small ornament with little pine branches and bullets. That was his family, fighting nature, even if it was only the darker side of it. When his teacher asked them to write why they chose the items they had Sam had told the truth, explained that his father and brother were into hunting and how they were his family, his Christmas.

When he gave the small ornament to Dean that year, his brother had raised an eyebrow before smiling and ruffling his hair. It would be the last year Sam would bring something from school, it would be considered too juvenile, but Sam noticed once he entered high school how Dean kept that small globe. Up until Stanford.

Leaving Dean behind was the hardest thing Sam ever had to do. He loved his brother, wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in Dean's arms for as long as he could remember… but he couldn't handle it anymore. To see Dean, leave most nights and come back smelling of perfume and sex made him want to puke. Dean noticed sometimes, of course, he did. When Dean did notice the comments only made it worse, Dean suggesting if he wasn't such a prude he could get laid as well. Sam didn't want to get laid, he wanted Dean. So he ran.

Right until the night his girlfriend went up in flames, then Sam was right back to where he started. It was so much worse as an adult, after having a taste of what true devotion and romantic love felt like. Not that he ever forgot Dean, but Jess had been wonderful, and now she was gone, and he was back to pining for his brother. The night Dean hooked back up with his previous fling, Sam had enough. Throwing his things into his duffle, Sam couldn't stop the tears from forming behind his lids. While digging through Dean's bag to see if he had taken Sam's charger by mistake, Sam caught sight of the small ornament he had made years ago.

Holding the globe in his hands, Sam sat on the end of his bed and for the first time since he was legally an adult, he cried over his brother. For hours Sam sat there, alternating between sobbing and silent letting his heart shatter. That was how Dean found him, trying to sneak in without waking Sam. Unlike what Sam was expecting, his brother didn't look like he had just been with his former lover, instead, he looked… normal. Hurriedly wiping at his eyes, Sam tried to hide the fact he had been crying, hopeful Dean would brush it aside.

Sam should have known better, when had Dean ever brushed Sam's pain aside?

"Woah, Sammy what happened?"

Dean had gone from the doorway to sitting across from Sam. Not wanting to get into it, Sam didn't say anything merely shaking his head until Dean placed a hand on his leg. Looking into concerned eyes, Sam opened his mouth to brush aside Dean's worry when instead he found words spilling out of his mouth. "Why aren't you with Cassie? I thought you would be gone for the night."

Maybe it was the tears or the way Sam was still clutching the small globe, but it must have told Dean something. "Hey," began Dean, his voice soft while he placed his other hand on Sam's knee, leaning into Sam's space. "Is that what this is about Baby Boy? Is this about Cassie? There ain't nothing there, Sammy…" Dean tried to comfort Sam who turned his head away unwilling to look at Dean. Steeling his nerve, Sam breathed in deeply before looking at Dean. If he was going to break every time Dean went off with someone, it would be best if they went their separate ways.

"I just… I can't do it anymore Dean. Why do you think I ran away to college?" before Dean could answer Sam continued, his eyes never wavering from Deans. "I couldn't handle seeing you sleep around anymore. Every time it hurt, at first, I understood you know? When I first noticed how badly I wanted you. I understood, cause I was just a kid and you needed to wait until I was older… but I got older and you still never gave me a second glance. I thought maybe it was because you were straight…"

Clutching his eyes shut, Sam couldn't quite hold back the sob from his throat. "I know about David McCallan, I walked in on you… practice was over early. I left for Stanford because if it wasn't my age or my gender the problem was me. And I couldn't stay watching you sleep with anything that moved when you wouldn't even think about being with me."

Trying to stand up, Sam was halted by a firm hand on either thigh. "Sammy," at the whisper of his name, Sam opened his eyes again and looked at Dean. "I didn't know Sammy, I swear I didn't." Dean must have felt Sam tense as he dropped his tone to a reassuring one. "Do you know why I kept that ornament even though we never get a tree?" Shaking his head, Sam didn't say anything but waited for Dean to continue. "'Cause it's us, Sammy. Look at what's inside it. The bullets were always me, I knew that the second I saw them, but the pieces of pine? That's all you."

Glancing down at the ornament, Sam took in the sight a bit differently. It was true, while the bullets would always be Dean, Sam was connected to nature. "I kept it because I thought it was as close to us as I was ever going to get." Looking at Dean now, Sam swallowed from the genuine love he saw in the others gaze. "I didn't know Sammy… or else I would have done this years ago."

With that Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together. It was everything and yet nothing like Sam had expected, soft but firm, passionate but chaste and everything Sam needed. Letting the globe drop to the floor, Sam wrapped both arms around Dean, pulling the man against him as not to break the kiss. When they did pull apart, Dean smiled. "Only you now, Baby Boy… only us."

Pulling Dean into another kiss, Sam tangled his hand in his brothers' hair, the small globe rolling under the bed where it would be found the following day. Some gifts lasted far longer than Christmas.