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Shawna gaped at Dean. “I thought you were the nice one!”

“You really think,” Sloane asked her, kissing the top of Dean’s head, “someone could be my best friend, and then my boyfriend, and not be at least a little bit of a shit?”

“I’m not a shit!” Dean protested.

“Yeah, you kind of are,” Sloane told him fondly.

“See if you ever get laid again,” Dean grumbled.

Shawna threw up her hands, marching away. “Gross! Mom, Dean’s being mean and gross!”

“Then come in here and help me get the food plated up,” Ana called back, apparently not bothered by Shawna’s proclamation.

Diana smirked. “She acts like that only because she knows Dean can’t follow through on his threat.”

She skated around them before Dean could summon a response, save to gape at her. Sloane found himself laughing once more, having to use Dean as support to keep upright.

“I told you they’d know the laundry for what it was,” Sloane warned as Dean pushed him.

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Dean swore, still pushing.

“You love me,” Sloane grunted, taking Dean’s hands and holding him steady.

“Against my will,” Dean huffed.

Sloane leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together. “And I love you.”

Dean’s protests and fight died immediately, and Sloane smiled fondly. Sloane had found himself, on occasion, wondering what sort of person he might spend his life with. And despite the answer having been in front of him for years, Sloane had never quite seen it for what it was. Not until Dean had finally told him the truth, not until they found the courage to stride forward together, and the truth could no longer be denied.

And the truth was, he did love Dean with every inch of his being. There was no one else that Sloane could see himself with. Dean knew him, and he knew Dean, and he loved every part of the man that melted against him, giving himself as easily as breathing.

“I love you too,” Dean whispered finally, voice low and wavering.

They were bathed in the bright light of the Christmas tree as Sloane leaned forward and kissed him in his family’s living room. His sisters bickering in the kitchen melded with his mother’s soft laughter. When they broke apart, Sloane nuzzled Dean, holding him close as the music from a nearby speaker floated around them.

“Our first Christmas,” Sloane told him.

“One of so many to come,” Dean promised.

“Many, many,” Sloane promised.

And there, in his childhood home, with his family surrounding them and the love of his life holding him, it was theeasiest promise in the world to make, and with every inch of his heart.