Dean wasn’t a holiday kind of guy. Christmas, in his mind, was reserved for kids and picture perfect families, the kind that existed in Hallmark movies, not in the world of hunters and monsters. Still, there he was, standing outside your apartment door, a box of cookies in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.You opened the door, startled to see him. “Dean? What are you doing here?” Dean shifted on his feet, looking a little more vulnerable than usual. “Figured you might need some company. You know, with it being Christmas and all.” Your heart softened. Dean didn’t say things like this often, and when he did, it was usually wrapped in a layer of sarcasm or self deprecation. But tonight, there was no mask. Just him. Raw and real. You stepped aside. He brushed past you, the familiar scent of leather and aftershave warming you more than the crackling fireplace ever could. The silence hung heavy as he set the cookies and whiskey on your coffee table. His hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, he finally looked at you, green eyes locking with yours. “I, uh… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” “Dean-” “Let me finish,” He interrupted, his voice low and rough. “I know I’m not some perfect guy. Hell, I’m probably the last person who should be standing here, telling you this. But I can’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been there for you through the good, the bad, the downright ugly. And you’ve been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He paused taking a step closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You know me better than anyone else. Better than I know myself sometimes. I don’t need some guy in a red suit to figure out what you want for Christmas. I already know. Because I know you. And, dammit, if you give me the chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the one to give it to you.”