When Dean Winchester ponders about all the past Christmases he and Sam have shared, they're not always pleasant. Actually, most of them aren't pleasant, at all. He thinks back and grimaces to himself. There was the time when they were both teenagers, messing around of course, and Sam got hungover for the first time. And that one year when Dean had broken his ankle on a hunt. Once, when the brothers were both little, John had gotten a nasty cold and was completely miserable for Christmas Eve and days afterwards. Then, there were all those Christmases were Dean had stolen presents so Sammy could open them on Christmas day… and they had been chick presents.

Now that he thought about it, Dean had been at fault for the majority of bad Christmases. At least, in his mind he was. But this year, he was determined to do it right. Coming back to reality, he slams his Busch Light forcefully down on the coffee table, causing a sleeping Sam to jump. "Wha-?"

"Sam," Dean announces, "this year, we're gonna do Christmas right."

"Dean… what are you talking about?" his brother mumbles sleepily, rubbing his face. Dean smiles and nods. "Yeah, I'll be right back."

He returns with a plastic bag and hears Sam sigh once he sees the classic cardboard box that could house only clothes. But that isn't his only concern.

"Dude, where'd you go? It's been over two hours."

"I was shopping."

"Shopping?" Sam asks, as if Dean had replied instead with "I was at The Wiggles reunion concert".

"Yes, shopping." He throws down the bag and collapses onto the couch. "Look what I got us!"

Sam curiously pokes around the plastic shopping bag and takes out a single box. "Can I open it?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Sam's hands move quickly, removing the standard white tissue paper include, revealing…

"A sweater?"

The article of clothing Sam was holding could've blinded someone due to its stop sign red colouring. It was made of some uncomfortable, itchy material and sported a large, green Christmas tree with gold, brown and purple ornaments, topped with a star.

Dean practically beams. "Yup! It's perfect, right? For the Christmas season, I mean. Since it's only two days away, we can wear these. See, I got one too."

He tears into another box and holds up a tacky sweater to match Sam's. His is a dark, forest green and has a cat clad in a sweater and a mismatching scarf and hat while ice skating around on a frozen lake.

Sam wants to tell Dean just how awful they are, the sweaters. He would never, ever wear these. Ever. But something about the way his older brother's eyes are twinkling makes him stop and think. "They're great, Dean. I love mine." he ends up saying with a grin. His brother laughs and then his face lights up again. "Oh, and I got some eggnog on the way home. You want some?"

"Sure." He's already cutting out the tag of his brilliant, red sweater and throwing it over his t-shirt. It's cold in the motel room anyway. Dean brings his brother a cold glass of eggnog and watches Sam's face as he takes a huge gulp of the stuff. Sam swallows hard and coughs, sputtering. "What the hell was in there?"

"I spiked it with a little Russian water."

"Vodka? You put vodka in my eggnog?"

"To get you back for putting that shit in my glass last year." Dean grins, putting on his sweater as well.

While It's a Wonderful Life is playing on their microscopic motel television, both brothers are truly happy, and that's something cherishable in itself.

AN - Hello, everyone! Happy December! I'm going to be doing a drabble or a one-shot a day (all winter themed), so if you want to submit a prompt or a request, just PM me and I'll get to it. As of now, requests are totally open. As always, comment and let me know what you think. I appreciate it!