"Play, uh... Shit," Sam laughs, tapping his foot, trying to remember the name of a Nirvana song that Dean learned on guitar for him when he was somewhere around seventeen.

"Shit," Dean repeats mockingly, readjusting the guitar in his lap. "Hm. Nope. Don't think I've heard that one."

Sam rolls his eyes, looking down to the floor where their dog, Bentley, is curled up by Dean's feet. "Get 'im, boy."

Bentley yawns and lays his head back down across his paws, closing his eyes.

Dean chuckles and reaches down to pet him, scratching just behind his ears. "How 'bout," he says to Sam, straightening back up, "we take a break and go have some hot chocolate. Then maybe you'll think'a that song."

"Yeah, okay," Sam concedes, allowing Dean to pull him up from the bed and padding down the hall behind him into their kitchen. "So, why can't I open one present tonight?" he asks, hopping up onto the island counter and crossing his arms.

"'Cause Santa ain't brought 'em yet, genius," Dean says, pulling a box of cocoa from the cabinet.

Sam glares at the back of his head, waiting for him to turn around.

Dean does, laughing when he sees the expression on his brother's face. "You can't open any 'cause I said."

Sam huffs and gives Dean a more prominent bitchface, but doesn't push it.

"So cute when you're mad at me, Sammy," Dean says, grinning.

"I swear to Christ, I'm gonna-"

"Kiss me," Dean whispers, suddenly about an inch from Sam's face, "is what you're gonna do."

Nobody's ever been able to deny kissing Dean Winchester.

Sam is no exception.

He leans in, pressing their lips together, and brings up one hand to cradle Dean's face. "You're infuriating," he breathes when he pulls away.

"One," Dean says softly, giving Sam a smile that crinkles around his eyes.

Sam pulls further away. "What?"

"One present."

Sam's eyes light up like there's suddenly a fire burning behind them. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Dean says, stepping closer and forcing Sam's legs around his waist. "But I get to pick."

"Fair," Sam agrees, giving him a nod, still grinning from ear to ear.

"'S like you're still a kid sometimes, baby boy," Dean says fondly, hands sliding around Sam's back.

Sam looks down, a blush creeping into his cheeks at the old nickname, and nuzzles against Dean's cheek. "C'n I open it now?" he asks, pushing Dean back a couple of inches so he can slide back down to the floor.

Dean shakes his head. "I get to pick when, too."

Sam frowns, but doesn't argue. Dean finishes the hot chocolate and they sit down at the table to drink it, knees touching.

"Rape Me!" Sam exclaims suddenly, hand slamming down on the wooden surface and jostling their mugs.

Dean looks up at him in an obvious state of confusion. "Uh... Either I really got the whole concept of 'consent' mixed up or-"

"No, no, that's the song! The Nirvana song. The one I wanted you to play," Sam clarifies, taking another drink and wincing when the warmth burns his tongue.

"Oh," Dean says, huffing out a laugh. "Okay. Yeah, I think I still remember it."

"Present first?" Sam asks hopefully.

Dean looks up at the clock on the mantle. 11:07. "Not yet."

"Why not?" Sam practically whines.

"Not time," is Dean's simple response.

They finish their hot chocolate and Dean plays the song (takes a few times for him to remember the exact strum pattern) and they turn on the TV and Bentley jumps up into the bed between them and Dean pushes him away but Sam snuggles into his fur and then finally Dean says, "Ready?"

Sam perks up like maybe he's actually the dog and nods vigorously.

Dean shakes his head but gets up and holds his hands out to Sam, leading him back out of the bedroom and down the stairs this time. "Turn around," he instructs. "And close your eyes."

Sam purses his lips but does as he's told, knowing Dean won't give him the gift if he doesn't.

There's some shuffling and them Dean takes his hand from behind to turn him around. "You can open your eyes."

Sam does. And he sees Dean. Nothing else. Just his brother standing there in front of him.

"Not here," Dean explains. "Outside."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Dean doesn't answer. Just pulls Sam out the door.

"De, it's freezing. Wh-"

"Sammy, hush," Dean says, leaning forward to kiss him. "Just let me talk. I waited until midnight because I wanted it to actually be Christmas. The Christmas after you turned seven, Dad didn't make it back in time, and that was when you started realizin' he never really did. You said you wanted a new holiday to celebrate on Christmas every year that wasn't about us all bein' together so he couldn't keep disappointing us. Little later on down the road, when you were about twelve, you said if you were a girl..." Dean stopped, leading Sam down off the steps and into the white blanketed yard. He pulled something out of his pocket and dropped to his knee, looking up to very pointedly meet Sam's eyes. "You'd wanna be proposed to in the snow."

Sam felt his heart stop.

"Sammy, I know I don't say it enough, but I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world, and you're it for me. Have been forever. Both knew it, just didn't know what it meant for a long time. I didn't think I'd ever wanna settle down, but that was 'cause I never factored in settlin' down with you. I mean, hell, we've got the house, the dog... whole nine. Just seems like this is the next step. We can go wherever the hell you want, don't care if it's Massachusetts or California. Just as long as it's somewhere they'll make it legal. Well, legal as anything ever is for us. Fake documents, 'course, but... that part don't matter. You can set up the whole thing, just put me in a tux and I'll show up. Don't give a fuck about the rest. Long as you marry me." Dean opens up the box when he finishes speaking, revealing a wide silver band with a thinner black one running through the middle.

For a moment, Sam freezes. Then it's as if everything is moving at hyper speed, and he drops to his knees in front of his brother, throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face in the crook of Dean's shoulder. "Jesus, De, yes," he sobs, clinging to him as tightly as he can, not caring about the fact that both of their pants are soaked through from the snow or that it's only 30° outside or that it's midnight and that the entire neighborhood can probably hear him. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. Just this. Just Dean. "I thought you would never ask."