"M'drunk, Dean," Sam slurred, his head falling heavily forward to bump against the table top.
"Me too, dude," Dean replied, though he held his liquor far better than his sibling.
:
"An' I hate Chri'mas," Sam added for good measure.
"Yeah. You're always gonna be the boy who hates Christmas," Dean declared while pouring himself another tumblerful of Johnny Walker Blue.
"Worst time of my life," Sam sniffed, awkwardly raising his head to stare at him. "Found out 'bout monsters. Then that last Chri'mas before you went to hell. I was devastat'd. Can't come up with one good thing about D'cember 25."
"You're just one big bundle of joy," Dean snorted, slaking down the amber liquid. "Look on the bright side, Sammy. You got the awesome Dean Winchester as your big brother. Now that's gotta be the greatest gift ever."
:
Sam nodded in agreement, a wobbly smile gracing his features. "You're my big brother."
Dean tilted his head. "For ever and ever."
"And I'm your little brother."
"For thirty-four years now, Sasquatch."
"But you're thirty-eight, Dean," Sam frowned. "That means you haven't been my big brother all the time!"
:
Dean rolled his eyes. His savvy sibling reverted to a befuddled five-year old when he was sloshed.
"That's cos you weren't born till I was four, doofus."
"O'course. I'm..." Sam's voice tailed off as his head again fell forward, and sleep overcame him.
:
With a chuckle, Dean lifted his glass in a toast. "Merry Christmas, little brother. You're the best present a guy could ask for."