There was only one thing you wanted for Christmas, and his name was Dean Winchester.

You'd been friends and hunting partners with Dean since his dad and yours first had a hunting trip together. Dean treated you like a little sibling. You were only two years younger than him.

You knew it was a natural, universal experience to have a crush on that one older family friend, right? Dean knew how to drive. He drank beers with your dad and John, he had his no-shits-given attitude that was effortlessly sexy.

Whatever. You went have to explain yourself. He was hot. Sue you.

As the holidays approached, your dad warned you about an upcoming trip with John, Sam, and most importantly, Dean. You had complained half-heartedly, you didn't wanna miss out on your traditions, but you weren't gonna turn down the chance to see Dean. It had been almost a year, after all, the Winchesters traipsing around the Midwest as you stayed in the Deep South. You were a bit older. Your hair grew out. Maybe he would...

So, you ended up with your feet kicked onto the dash of your dad's truck as you drove through the night up to North Dakota. He had some shitty Christmas radio on and it was getting you in the mood.

"You, uh... got any Christmas wishes, kiddo?" Your dad asked gruffly. You didn't really do gifts and stuff when you lived on the road. You had everything you needed in one bag.

You blinked, only one thought coming into your mind. You settled for, "Uh... nope." Same as every year.

You and your dad dragged yourself into the Winchester's temporary residence. You looked around, curious at how they had managed to create some semblance of a home, or something normal...

...And then Dean was right there, smiling bright, about to greet you, when he got a real look at you and his mouth dropped open.

"...{{user}}?"