Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure. No copyright infringement intended.

Synopsis: Sam Wesson is trying desperately to get home to his not so perfect life for the holidays, but when a freak snowstorm stands him in a tiny airport in Jackson Hole, Wyoming he may find a new reason to celebrate the season. Dean Winchester doesn't believe in miracles and he has never stayed in one place for more than a few months. But when he meets Sam Wesson during the most festive time of the year, he might just have found something worth believing in.

NOTE: This story focuses on un-related Sam and Dean as they find one another on a blustery Christmas night. It is a romantic Christmas story. Very light on the SLASH action, but it is there.

Rated T.

Don't like? Don't read it. SLASH M/M relationship!

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, all grammatical errors are my own.

Please Review: So I know there's interest

Chapter Two

Three Drinks, Two Men, and One Fireplace

Dean finished tightening the valve under the sink. There was a silence that he found blissful considering that when he'd walked into the room there was a plop, plop, plop of the leaking pipes that had him internally cringing. Jack had chosen to play simple Christmas music from the radio and it gave Dean a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. His own childhood holidays had never consisted of jolly music and festive lights. Hell, he'd never even had a tree growing up. Sure, he'd had friends whose parents would go out of their way to try and include the neighborhood stray.

That's what they'd considered Dean Winchester, the neighborhood stray. His father was never home, his mother had died when he'd been four years old, and he didn't have any siblings. He supposed that the Christmas season should be a reminder of all the things he hadn't had growing up, but instead it was a glimpse into a future that he desperately wanted. Family's that sang together at an old piano and then decorated sugar cookies together at a big rustic table. Snowball fights in the front yard and sledding at the local park. There were so many things that he wanted that he didn't even know where to start when considering them, but one thing he knew…he didn't want to be alone this Christmas season.

He debated staying on the floor and simply enjoying the music. Contrary to popular belief he quite liked Christmas music, even the old stuffy melodies. Particularly Bing Crosby…something about the old crooners style really brought out Dean's music appreciation. He supposed that not having access to it when one was young had made it important when he'd gotten older. He coughed as a small lump formed in his throat and finally shoved out from under the bar's sink. Intent on the music, he sat up too quickly and bashed his head into the bottom of the counter.

"Son of a bitch…" He groused as he rubbed at the sore spot. He hoped that it didn't leave a mark, that'd be fun to explain to the rest of the staff. Dean looked around for the man that ran the place, but he didn't immediately see anyone.

"Jack, I fixed it for now. But you're going to have to spring for a new seal as soon as the hardware store opens. It might not hold out with the upcoming holiday business." Dean moved to his knees and peeked over the top of the counter, looking around for the bartender. "Jack?"

A familiar voice that did not belong to Jack answered. "He stepped out for a few minutes." The low voice sent a tingle of a thrill racing through him as he recognized who it belonged to.

Dean scrambled to his feet and swallowed his reflexive reaction when he saw Sam sitting comfortably at the bar, a glass of scotch sitting in front of him and smile on his face. "So you repair sinks and deliver baggage?"

It only took a moment for Dean to recover before his usual confidence took over. "What can I say, I'm a man of many talents. I do anything and everything, Sam."

The taller man nodded with a snort of amusement and his dimples made an unscheduled appearance. "So you do remember my name." It wasn't a question…it sounded more like an accusation to Dean. He lifted an eyebrow and half-smiled at the handsome stuffy individual in front of him.

"Yes. But Sammy is so much more fun to say." At Sam's surprised cough, Dean wriggled his eyebrows and grabbed himself a glass and a bottle of top shelf scotch. "So where're you from?" He poured the amber colored liquid into the expensive Waterford crystal and downed it in one gulp before quickly pouring himself another drink and settling in to talk to the other man.

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously, took a deep breath as he stared at the man behind the counter, and then drained his glass. He was finding it increasingly difficult to look away from the mischievous look in Dean's incredibly green eyes. "Chicago."

Dean smiled easily. "I like Chicago. It's a very interesting city."

"So you've been there?" Sam tilted his glass back and forth until Dean got the hint and filled it again.

"A long time ago…but yeah, I've been there." There was something about the way he said it that made Sam wonder what he wasn't being told. What was even stranger was the strong desire to know what that was. He wanted to know anything about Dean beyond what he'd gleaned from their initial meeting at his door.

Dean didn't want to talk about himself, so he purposefully changed the subject. "What do you do in the windy city?"

Sam shrugged matter of factly. "I'm a lawyer."

"Are you any good?" Dean asked quickly.

Sam raised an eyebrow of his own and leaned against the bar in a conspiratorial manner. "I must be. They made me a partner in the firm." He watched carefully to see how that landed on the other man. Sometimes being a lawyer wasn't a good thing.

A shadow of something drifted across Dean's handsome face before he looked away from Sam. He stared at the fire as it burned merrily in the large stone fireplace. Of course he'd pick a guy that had his shit together…like really together. When the silence went on too long the other man pulled Dean back into conversation.

"And what do you do?" Sam questioned as he again drained the glass. He was starting to the feel the warmth of the alcohol as it flower through his system and loosened his tired achy muscles…and his inhibitions were dropping quickly. "I mean besides the obvious?" He waived his hand around the empty bar area.

Dean didn't smile this time. He turned away from Sam and moved toward the roaring fire with the bottle of whiskey. "I'm just a handyman, Sam. Nothing special." He settled into one of the red velvet chairs and poured another glass before quickly emptying it. There was an uncomfortable silence before a loud screech echoed through the room. Dean felt more than heard the other man approach and sink into the chair next to him.

"Did I say something to offend you?" Sam asked softly. He hadn't meant to and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what would have caused Dean to shut down.

The fire crackled merrily and Dean found that he didn't want to lie to Sam. Not this time. "Spent my whole life trying to live up to people like you. But I dropped out of school at sixteen and I've…" He realized that he'd been about to tell this complete stranger more than he meant to. Dean looked over at Sam's concerned almond shaped eyes and found that that was worse than staring directly at the sun. "Just forget it. Hey, you're glass is empty again." He didn't ask for permission before he was pouring Sam more to drink.

Sam's forehead crinkled in consideration. "I didn't mean anything by my question, Dean. I'm a lawyer. I tend to probe where people don't appreciate it. I apologize if I offended you. We can talk about something else."

Dean sighed and settled back into the chair. His hand was hanging over the edge near Sam's in a lazy boneless way that had everything to do with the expensive scotch. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. I just don't…I'm not usually much of a talker. I don't talk about my feelings…or any feelings if I'm being perfectly honest. Just wasn't the way I was raised."

The log in the fire popped as the sap melted and dripped onto the red-hot coals. There was a brief increase in the amount of light and it brought Sam's gaze over to meet Dean's. He found that he was drawn into the pools of green and the veiled promise of something more hiding behind Dean's guarded gaze. The soft golden light of the cozy fire was intoxicating. And when combined with the alcohol, they were both a little stunned by what they saw. Dean's fingers brushed past Sam's as he pushed forward and pulled himself to unsteady feet. The lights in the room blinked twice and Dean glanced around. " They're gonna kick us out soon…you like movies?"

There was a snort from the other chair. "Do I like movies?" Sam repeated slowly.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. Do you like movies?"

"Sure, doesn't everyone." Sam answered with a laugh. His eyes twinkled in a way that made Dean's heart stutter inside his chest. There was a little mole just to the left side of the taller man's nose and it was far more interesting than it had any right to be. Dean wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or his own lack of inhibitions that had his fingers twitching in a desire to touch the beauty mark. To run his fingers over the softness of Sam's lips and slip his fingers through the silky softness of his sable colored hair.

Dean pulled himself back just before he reached out and cleared his throat. "You'd be surprised." He shot back with a chuckle.

Jack called from the back room, surprising Dean. "Hey, I'm gonna close this place down. So you're gonna need to find another place to chat."

Dean shifted with irritation. He wanted to know more about this lanky lawyer from Chicago. Besides it was just one night and he figured that he'd earned one night with no strings attached. His gaze slid over to Sam and he was pleased to see the other man's eyes were wide open. It didn't look as though he was tired either. Maybe this night wasn't over…

Sam's eyes drifted toward Dean and he couldn't help but notice that his blonde hair was being highlighted by the ever-changing colors of the large fire. Sam's gaze kept finding its way back to the shorter man. Dean was tall, by anyone's standards but Sam's, he had an athletic build that spoke of time in the gym or an active lifestyle. Whatever it was, Sam whole-heartedly approved. The tanned skin and the slight scruff that gave the man a 'rugged' look kept pulling the lawyer's attention in directions that he hadn't gone in years. It was wholly disconcerting how much he wanted to simply look at Dean. "Uh, why do you ask?" He stammered with a confused smile. The dimples dug deeply into his cheeks and he looked ten years younger.

"There's a marathon of the Die Hard movies on tonight. You interested in watching?" Dean tilted the bottle back and forth in what he hoped was an inviting manner. "I've got a small flat screen in my room?"

The lawyer eyed him for a moment and then finally shrugged. "I've a got a large flat screen in mine. Besides I used to watch those with my dad when I was a kid."

Dean forced a slight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes at the mention of family. He quickly wiped the sentiment from his expression and started toward the stairs. Jack walked in from the back, a box of various bottles in his hands. He glared at the expensive bottle in Dean's hands.

"That's coming outta your paycheck, Winchester." He said seriously. The man's dark eyebrows cut down in disapproval when he spied exactly which bottle of scotch Dean had helped himself to.

"Seriously? Come on, Jack. I just fixed your sink man. Help a guy out?" He did his best to put on a winning smile, but the bartender wasn't having any of it.

Jack shook his head 'no' and set down the box of alcohol. He leaned against the bar and then finally held his hand out for Dean's bottle.

Sam watched for a few moments before stepping in. "Tell you what. Put it on my bill. Room 23."

Jack nodded and Dean gaped at him as Sam started up the stairs. The woodsy scent of the fireplace permeated the area and made Dean wish he were back in South Dakota this year. He looked back at the bartender and winked.

"I think he's straight, Dean." Jack said with a deliberate shake of his head and a small smile.

"So am I." Dean retorted with a grin. He started to walk away and then threw a comment over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. "Most of the time."

Dean pulled in a breath when he got to the bottom of the stairs and then got lost watching Sam disappear onto the second level. The impossibly long legs were hugged in all the right places by a pair of 'just-tight-enough' jeans and a blue cashmere V-neck sweater that draped his back beautifully. The broad shoulders of the other man were rounded perfectly into a well-defined back that tapered into slim hips. Dean took a moment to appreciate the sight, then took the steps two at a time before catching Sam just as the taller man slid his key into the old door.

XXXX

Sam leaned against the inside of the door and waited for the world to stop spinning. He probably should've stopped drinking two glasses ago. But the conversation was pleasant and he found that the more he learned about the handyman, the more he wanted to know. There was a quality that surrounded Dean that implied danger. Not since college had Sam considered throwing the ball with someone from his own team. He'd married Jessica and that had been it. He'd been head over heels in love with the spunky blonde nursing student and then they'd had Adam.

But there had been a time when Sam hadn't really cared all the much about the sex of his partners, so much as how they made him feel. And there was something that was making him 'feel wanted' when he was around Dean. Besides, he'd be flying out tomorrow, so what did it matter what he did tonight?

"Uh, Sammy? Kinda hard to watch the movie through the closed door."

Dean's deep voice sent little shivers racing up and down Sam's spine and he couldn't help the goofy smile as he opened the door. If anyone asked him later? He would be blaming the scotch for his ridiculous behavior.

"Wow. You definitely got the better end of the deal as far as the rooms go." Dean's eyes were wide as he looked around the spacious room with an enormous king sized bed and 55 inch flat screen mounted to the wall. He whistled and immediately flopped down on the bed, kicking his boots off onto the floor. "My room is half this size and the bed is a twin." He said as he grabbed the remote and started looking for the marathon of Die Hard films.

Sam smiled and shook his head, which created a slightly blurry effect to his vision. He closed the door and moved to the other side of the bed. "Guess that's the difference between paying for the room and having it provided." He hasn't meant to come off stuck up and Sam immediately recognized that he'd hit a nerve when Dean's million-watt smile faded slightly and he simply nodded without commenting.

"Dean, I'm sorry. That came out all wrong." He said as he brushed his hand through his hair. It fell back into his eyes in long strands of silky sable locks.

There was a barely perceptive shrug from the smaller man. "Don't worry about it, man. I'm used to it." But it was apparent from his silence that he was more bothered by the comment than he'd admit. Sam pulled his lower lip between his teeth in contemplation. Before he could say anything else, the movie blared to life on screen and Dean settled into the multitude of pillows to watch.

TBC…

Author's Note: Finished this and thought I'd get the next chapter up. Thank you for the reviews. I hope that you are able to continue letting me know what thing of the Christmas story. It's a first for me.

Please Review: I would greatly appreciate it.