Okay, so I realize I kind of made Dean out to be a huge douche, not to mention out of character. I'm really sorry, I swear I didn't mean to. Hopefully this will make up for it. Thanks to everyone for the awesome feedback.

Disclaimer: I own Supernatural. I also own Microsoft... just kidding.

"Hey, boys," John Winchester said as his two sons walked in. He frowned—despite the fact that it was Sam's birthday, he looked miserable.

"Hey, Dad," they said in unison; Dean's tone was bright and cheery while Sam's was bleak.

"How was skating?" he asked. Sam just rolled his eyes, but Dean grinned.

"It was crappy," Sam sighed. "I'm going to wash up and go to bed. 'Night."

"'Night, kiddo," John said, frowning a little. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam replied sadly as he walked out of the room.

"Dean, why is your brother so upset?" he asked as soon as he heard the water turn on. He had no idea what was causing his youngest to be so sad—especially on his birthday—but he sure didn't like it.

Dean's face went red, and his eyes averted to the ground as he spoke. "Well, uh, at the rink, there was this, um, girl, and I went and talked to her..."

John groaned. A girl, of course, he thought to himself. Ever since Dean had turned fifteen, he had been obsessed with anything that looked or smelled like a woman. "And totally ignored your brother? On his birthday?"

Dean shrunk into the couch even more. "Yeah," he muttered guiltily.

John sighed. "Go to bed, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

Dean's feet dragged as he headed to the tiny bedroom that he and his brother shared. He pushed the door open and guilt overtook him even more as he saw his little brother lying on his bed, back facing Dean's bed.

He pulled his pajamas on and climbed into bed, and he heard Sam huff a little in recognition of his brother's presence. Come on, just do it, he said, mentally scolding himself. It's now or never. Stop being such an idiot.

"Sammy?"

He took Sam's small, annoyed grunt as permission to keep talking.

"I'm sorry," Dean continued. Man, this would be so much easier if the damn kid would just turn around. "I was an idiot, Sam. I let you down. I shouldn't have treated you like that on any day, and especially not your birthday."

"Damn right," Sam mumbled.

"Hey, how about I take you back to the rink tomorrow? I'll make it up to you."

"Whatever," was Sam's only response. Dean sighed.

"'Kay. 'Night, Sammy."

No response came, but when Sam rolled over, Dean swore he saw him smile the tiniest bit.

"Let's do this," Dean said, tying his skate's laces and standing up. He watched as his brother did the same, only much unsteadier.

"Need some help?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as Sam carefully took steps towards the rink. Sam rolled his eyes, but muttered affirmative.

"Grab my hand," Dean said, sticking out his left hand. Sam raised his eyebrow.

"Dude, I'm thirteen."

"And I'm seventeen. How do you think it'll look when people see me skating around a freakin' rollerskating rink holding another dude's hand? Just do it, Sam."

Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly as he grasped Dean's hand. "All good?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

They set off around the rink at a slow skate, but were almost immediately stopped by a girl stopping in front of them. Candy.

"Hey, Dean," Candy said, hands planted on hips. "So, you didn't call me last night. What was that all about?"

Dean sighed. "I was kinda busy celebrating my brother's birthday."

"That's a crap excuse. Why didn't you call me?" Candy persisted.

"Excuse me? It's a crap excuse?" Dean's eyebrows creased together.

"Yeah. You should have called me."

Sam gripped Dean's hand tighter, and Dean looked down at his lanky brother, nodding and then turning back to Candy.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't. I was celebrating my brother's birthday, and that's what I'm doing now, to make up for my stupid actions yesterday. So, if you don't mind, get out of the way so my brother and I can skate."

A look of contempt spread over her features. "You just lost the best thing to ever happen to you," she said loudly, and skated away angrily.

"Actually, I didn't. The best thing that ever happened to me is holding my hand!" Dean shouted after her. Candy snorted.

"Yeah, have fun, loser," she shouted.

"I most certainly will," Dean said, grinning. "Come on, Sammy. Let's go."

As they completed their lap around the rink, Sam started to say something. "Dean, thanks. You shouldn't have done that for—"

"No chick flick moments," Dean said firmly, as they skated out of the rink, sat down and untied their skates.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam muttered.

As they walked out to the car, Dean's voice cut into the silence. "By the way, I should have done that for you. I would take you over some hot idiot like her any day."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

"No problem, little bro."

As the Impala roared to life, Dean hesitated before saying, "Ah, happy birthday, Sammy. For real this time."