Laying the Santa suit back down, John motioned for her to throw the small box, catching it easily. "You realize Ben's the only one who'll get a kick out of this," he said, tearing off the paper of the second. If it was a light up nose, he was going to wonder about his wife. "The boys are just gonna poke fun."
Waiting for her response, he opened the box and looked inside. After a moment of just staring, his gaze slid from the box to her again.
"Don't know if I remember what I'm supposed to do with this," he said, tone huskier than before as he lifted the mistletoe out of the box. Yes, Mary Winchester was hauling out the big guns to get her way and John didn't think he'd be able to fight it any better now than he'd ever been able to. But if it meant putting this mistletoe to good work – and that was a holiday tradition, wasn't it? Pretty much obligated to follow through with it – then he would do so right now. "C'mere and show me how it's done, woman."