fic: City Lights Lay Out Before Us (part four)
[back to masterpost]
He was making himself lunch when his phone rang. Sam couldn’t have explained why, but he didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know that it was Dean calling, finally. He also didn’t answer the phone. Couldn’t make himself answer because he couldn’t fool himself into thinking Dean would ever call back after. Couldn’t play this game of getting pulling in and then pushed away all over again.
He just sat there and let the thing ring and watch the screen flicker his brother’s name. A green light blinking now, meaning the asshole finally left a voicemail.
“Dude, stop sitting there listening to your girly ringtone and pick up the friggin phone” Sam laughed, wondering what Dean would do if he knew that when he called, Sam’s phone played the intro to Back in Black. “Sammy, come on.” Something in his voice made Sam think of that last call; his brother’s voice just this side of pleading. So he called back. Always needing to make his point, Dean waited until the fifth ring to pick up.
“About time Sammy, what were you doing playing with your hair?”
“Dean, what do you want?” Sam was done, didn’t want to play whatever game Dean had in mind.
“Go to your window.”
“What??”
“Your window Sam. Jesus I swear you’ve gotten dumber since you left.”
“Dean what the hell is going on?”
“Sam. For once in your life, just stop bitching and do what I say.”
“For once in…” Sam walked over to the window, the instinct to obey Dean overriding his annoyance, and looked down at the sidewalk.” “Dean stop screwing arou-”
Standing there - in Dad’s old leather jacket - was Dean, looking every bit the dangerous '50s bad boy, and Sam felt his stomach bottom out. Dean was leaning against the Impala, one arm holding the phone to his ear, the other shoved deep in his pocket.
“D-Dean…?”
“Hey Sam.” Dean’s voice sounded thick with emotion, but then again, maybe it was just exhaustion.
“Dean wha-“
“You gonna let me up or are you gonna make your big brother sleep in his car?”
“Yeah hold on.” Sam hanged up the phone and grabbed the room key from the hook in the kitchen. He damn near sprinted back to lean out the open window into the warm summer air. “Catch!” With an easy lob, Sam tossed the keys down to Dean. He turned away from the window, not even checking to see if Dean would make the catch. He knew he would.
****
Sam puttered around the apartment, trying to put away dirty dishes even though he knew at its messiest it was still better than wherever Dean had just come from. He moved his crumpled clothes off of his bedroom floor and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
Satisfied, he walked back into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Dean standing in the doorway, duffle bag slung over his right shoulder.
Sam couldn’t place the look on Dean’s face until his brain finally kicked in, supplying uncomfortable - or nervous - and he almost dropped dead on the spot when Dean looked down at his feet and cleared his throat.
“So uh…”
“Right, sorry man, come in.” Sam stepped aside to let Dean pass, holding out his hand when Dean dropped the key.
“Everyone out here as courteous as you, Sam?” Dean joked as he dropped his bag on the couch. Sam relaxed by degrees the more at ease Dean looked.
“Oh yeah, didn’t you know that we have to take a whole semester of etiquette to pass freshman year? Can I get you anything”
“Got hot water? Cuz I could seriously use a shower.”
Sam’s brain momentarily froze at the image, but Dean’s impatient “Dude” got it moving again. “Yeah, course. ‘S back here.” Sam led the way to the back end of the apartment, grabbing a towel from the small closet in the hallway. Dean closed the door with a just-too-wide smile and on instinct Sam shouted, “Dude don’t mess with any of my stuff!”
Once the water started running, Sam got to work grabbing sheets and a pillow to make up the sofa. God only knows where Dean was before this, so Sam figured he’d let him have the bed.
He’d have to burn the sheets after, because just the thought of Dean sleeping in his bed was enough to make Sam’s blood heat up.
He grabbed Dean’s bag and brought it into his room to make room on the couch. “Moved your bag to my room, it’s the door on the right,” Sam yelled in the direction of the bathroom when he heard the water stop.
He was just finishing getting the couch ready when Dean walked back into the living room. His hair was still wet, tiny droplets holding on at the ends, and his cheeks were flushed from the hot water. Sam took a moment to appreciate the way Dean’s shirts pulled tight over his shoulders and chest, and the way his jeans sat low on his hips and were almost worn through at the knee.
He knew this was a Pandora’s can of worms he’d probably regret opening later, but he asked anyways.
“So, not that I’m not happy to see you but uh, what the hell are you doing here Dean?”
“Dad and I’d finished a job, and he got wind of a new case and took off - you know how he is. Gave me some line about not wanting to tip the thing off, said he’d give me a call in a few days and give me the info. I had some time to kill and I was in the area and last time we talked you uh,” Sam was scared shitless about where this conversation was going but tried to keep his face still, “you said I could come. Invitation still stands right? Cause I can leave…”
Sam had to fake a cough to keep from laughing, finally understanding why Dean had looked so nervous earlier. He had honestly been worried that Sam would turn him away. Sam couldn’t decide if he was hurt or lucky that Dean didn’t know how incredibly ridiculous that was.
“No! No, stay. I just…I didn’t think you’d show…”
“Neither did I.” Dean’s eyes flicked up from whatever spot on the floor they had been focused on and connected with Sam’s, and his heart might have actually stopped. Sam couldn’t understand how he could have possibly thought that the eyes in his dreams belonged to Dean because they were never this green, never this deep, never saw so far into him it unnerved him.
“So.” Sam cleared his throat; he did always lose staring contests when they were growing up.
“What do you wanna do? If I had known you were coming I could have planned something but…” He let his sentence trail off, hoped that Dean had something in mind.
“How about fireworks?”
“What?”
“Fireworks. It’s the fourth of July, Sammy. You surfer boys still celebrate that out here right?” Dean was looking at Sam like he was crazy, and maybe he was because he honestly hadn’t known what day it was. Things like holidays became pointless when you had no one to celebrate them with.
“Uh yeah I think I saw something in the paper.” Sam opened the cabinet next to the fridge and riffled through the stack of old newspapers. If it took him longer to find the page than it should have for someone who used to read the paper like it was the newest Superman comic, Dean didn’t say anything. Sam finally found the schedule and holy shit apparently they really do celebrate the fourth out here because the times and locations cover almost two pages. “Here, have your pick.”
Dean’s eyes scanned the page for about ninety seconds before he turned the paper back around to face Sam. “You’re the one who said you were gonna show me around this town of yours. Which one looks the best to you?”
Sam glanced at the list, looking for one in an area that he recognized. His eyes found Half Moon Bay State Beach, and at least he knew where that was. He pointed at the entry, “let’s go to this one, we can eat first.”
Dean grinned. “You sure know the way to man’s heart Sammy.”
Sam rolled his eyes and told Dean to knock it off with the nickname, he was in college now after all, but deep down he had missed it. He grabbed his wallet and key off the counter and filed out behind his brother.
***
They went to the In-and-Out Burger in Redwood City, and Dean professed love at first bite. Sam navigated the half hour drive to where the fireworks were held. At the last minute, he changed his mind, remembering a better place to watch from than the crowded beach. Dean’s momentary frustration faded when he saw their destination: a community park complete with a little league field. It had a clear view of the water, so they wouldn’t miss a thing.
Dean brought out beers and a bottle of whiskey from the trunk, and they settled in on the grass by second base. According to the paper, they still had about half an hour before the show started.
“Good, plenty of time to get good and buzzed then,” Dean had responded. He tossed Sam a beer and grabbed one for himself. “Happy Fourth of July Sam.” They toasted, and they drank. And then they had another and another one after that and after that Sam stopped counting. Once there was a sizable pile of cans next to each of them, Dean broke out the whiskey.
In typical Winchester fashion they had no cups, opting instead for swigs straight from the bottle. Sam didn’t know about Dean, but he had passed buzzed about two beers ago, the combination of excitement and alcohol and just Dean hitting him all at once. A shot in the distance went off as Sam took a deep pull from the bottle, the sound traveling across the water. The show was starting.
Sam watched the lights burst over his head and over the water at the beginning, and then he watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Watched the way the colors played over his face and the way he grinned a little bit wider at every burst that unfolded. Noting the complete look of peace that had washed over Dean’s features as the show went on, realization hit Sam square in the chest. He turned completely towards his brother, surprise overriding his desire to watch the show.
“You planned this!”
“Planned what?”
“This!” Sam gestured wildly to the scene around them. “The fireworks, and the beer, and the Fourth of July.”
“Sam,” and he knew what that tone meant, knew to prepare for the ridicule, “I know I’m all kinds of awesome, and maybe you missed that week in kindergarten where you learned to read a calendar, but the fourth comes after the third and before the fifth and even I can’t do anything about it.”
“Cut the crap Dean! You weren’t ‘in the area.’ Closest Dad ever took us was Arizona; we never hunted this far west.” That’s why I knew it was safe to come here, he thought to himself.
“So?”
“So?! So you drove for god knows how long to come here. You planned to be here. Tonight.”
“Congrats Sammy, you figured out my deep dark secret.” Dean said it all without even looking at Sam, his body language never shifting away from the lazy relaxed pose that looked so foreign on his tough older brother but yet somehow managed to fit perfectly.
“Why Dean? You don’t call for weeks and then you just show up on my doorstep and…and all you want to do is go see freaking fireworks?” Dean looked right at Sam, green eyes made darker by the alcohol fixing him to the spot.
“There something else I’m supposed to want to do?” It felt like a challenge, one Sam had no problem backing down from.
“Well no, just…Why are you here Dean? Why now?”
Dean looked back up at the fireworks, and Sam was starting to think that Dean was just going to ignore him.
“96”
“What?”
“Last time we saw fireworks was July 4th 1996”
“Wait was that?" Sam felt the gears in his brain working overtime through the haze of whiskey and beer to remember the date. "The year we snuck out to that field?” And yeah, that was it because the memory came flashing back then in bits of bright colors and sparks and Dean.
Sam looked over at Dean, who had a look on his face that could only be described as nostalgic, and simply raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that year.” Dean looked at Sam for a moment, and then all his attention was focused on the bottle of whiskey rolling between his fingers.
“You’d had the worst week, and all I wanted to do was cheer ya up and I figured you were probably Winchester enough that some explosives’d turn it around. And man did you light up. Danced under the sparks like some chick from a rom-com ‘n had me half worried you were gonna catch yourself on fire.
But you were happy Sammy, so happy, and knowing that I did that, that I could do something right? Made my year. I don’t know what happened after that but, I guess I stopped being able to make you happy.”
“No, Dean you didn-”
“Sam, you left. You can’t tell me I was still doing a good job at the whole brother thing. Anyways, after your birthday, I don’t know I guess I just knew what I had to do. I uh, just wanted to see you happy again. See you look at me like I’d finally done right by you.” Still trying to make eye contact with the whiskey bottle, Dean didn’t notice Sam downright staring at Dean.
Sam wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to this introspective and emotional side of his brother. In an attempt to lighten the moment, Sam let out a laugh that was little more than a breath.
“Wow Dean, who knew holidays turned you into such a girl?”
He knew Dean would hear what Sam couldn’t say out loud, that that night was one of his best memories, that this right here was the best damn decision Dean had ever made.
Dean looked up at him then, his mouth smiling but eyes searching, and Sam could tell Dean had heard everything he meant but couldn’t say out loud. Their eyes locked for the second time that night, but this time the alcohol gave Sam the strength to not look away. Something clicked in Dean’s eyes and he nodded just slightly to himself, turned away and took a deep pull from the bottle of whiskey.
Sam watched lights from fireworks color Dean’s face and tried to identify the emotions playing there. Giving up, Sam reached over and pulled the bottle from Dean’s hands.
As he lowered the bottle from his lips, Dean gently shoulder checked him, a move all too common from years before. Sam chuckled and moved to bump Dean in return, but misjudged and wound up with his forehead on the point of Dean’s shoulder. Wincing slightly, Sam shifted just enough to rest his head on his brother’s shoulder.
The alcohol had loosened him up to the point of boldness and he couldn’t tell if his pulse was racing because of that, or if it was because of something else entirely.
“Man Sam, you’d think for a college boy youdda built up a better tolerance by now,” Dean laughed softly as he ruffled a hand in Sam’s hair. Sam turned his head into the curve of Dean’s neck, lips accidentally grazing the warm skin there, and felt Dean go taut beside him.
He slowly exhaled and pressed the ghost of a kiss on Dean’s neck, and he felt Dean sigh more than he heard it. He tried it again, moving just slightly closer towards Dean’s back. He kissed the muscle of Dean’s shoulder, silently worshiping the strength there. Dean groaned and then, as Sam was pulling back to search for a new spot -
“Sam…”
It was a warning, or it was meant to be, but it came out sounding like a plea. Sam pulled back just enough to look Dean in the eyes for the third time that night.
“Dean it’s okay. Just, let me.”
Dean tensed even further for a moment, then yielded. Sam licked his lips as he dropped his head back to Dean’s neck, warm mouth against smooth skin that tasted like sweat, leather, a reckoning. .
Dean let out a whimper when Sam’s lips latched on to the spot beneath his jaw, and a life time of living out of each other’s pockets, of listening to Dean recount his evenings in vivid detail, only meant that Sam knew how to trip all of his brother’s triggers. Knew to suck a bruise into the groove where neck meets jaw, to leave a bread crumb trail of teeth over the mound of his adam’s apple.
Sam moved slowly, savoring the feel of his brother’s pulse under his tongue, until Dean’s hands moved from their white-knuckled grip on his thighs to grab Sam and push him back.
For one horrible moment Sam thought that he had been wrong, that Dean’s groans hadn’t been encouragements at all but protests and now he’d ruined everything, but then Dean’s hands were gripping tighter, one fisting into Sam’s shirt and the other moving to tilt up his chin. Sam could feel Dean’s gaze on him, tried to avoid it but he was helpless, and slowly lifted his eyes to meet the green pair staring right back.
Only, they could hardly pass as green now, pupils blown so wide that just the tiniest ring of green was visible around them.
Sam held Dean’s gaze and was glad for it when he saw Dean’s eyes glance down to Sam’s mouth, tongue darting out to pull in his bottom lip in a motion that screamed predatory. Dean didn’t miss it when Sam licked his own lips either, more out of instinct than conscious thought. Dean’s head fell back and came back up as a groan escaped his lips.
Dean half-growled half-prayed Sam’s name and Sam thought he would let Dean call him “Sammy” forever if it meant he would say it like that. And then Sam couldn’t think anything at all because Dean was surging up and pulling Sam forward, crashing their mouths together.
It was all a mess of lips and teeth and limbs until finally one of them shifted and then they just fit. Fit like they were cut from the same cloth, and maybe they were because Sam felt something inside him fall into place; the final piece to the puzzle he hadn’t even known was incomplete.
They kissed furiously at first, the adrenaline and the needwanthavetohave tingeing everything with urgency, but it was Dean who slowed them to a languid, smoky smooth pace. Dean, who licked his way into Sam’s mouth and wound a hand into Sam’s hair and set fire to everything he touched.
Taking his cues from Dean, Sam teased his tongue along the line of Dean’s lips. Warm and wet and somehow smooth and rough all together, Sam let his teeth skim across Dean’s lower lip as he removed his tongue.
Dean hardened with tension, and Sam felt him shudder where their sides touched. Instead of pulling back, this time Dean leaned forward. Leaned into Sam and kept on leaning, using the hand on the back of his neck to keep Sam from falling, until Sam laid flat on his back in the dirt with his big brother on top of him.
It was too fast for anything, for more than the press of denim against denim. The idea of next time skittered feverishly across his hazy thoughts, even as he breathed against Dean's mouth. His hands -god Dean’s hands - slid up and down Sam’s side, fingers slotting in between his ribs and grabbing hold, as if Dean was trying to claw his way inside Sam’s skin.
Sam’d let him.
As close as they were, every part of Sam screamed closer. Awkwardly, Sam's hands fumbled beneath Dean's shirt, pressing unsteadily against his lower back. His hands too big, too shaky, as he pushed up the hem of Dean's t-shirt.
Dean shifted, rocking his hips down into Sam’s. Sam’s head rolled back as he arched into the sensation. Dean took the opportunity to mouth at Sam’s neck, biting down on the meat of his shoulder. Sam let out a heady moan.
Suddenly Dean went stock still. Sam struggled to look up at him, questioningly. Dean kept watching, waiting for an answer; as if the desperate throb of Sam's cock flush against his wasn’t answer enough.
Incapable of reassuring him through the haze of lust and alcohol, Sam’s hands scrabbled at Dean’s back, cherishing the warm flush of his skin. He slipped his hands over Dean's hips and shyly into his back pockets. Dean twisted a hand into Sam’s hair, held his face steady as he came back down for another bruising kiss. Encouraged, Sam hesitantly cupped Dean’s ass and used it to drive their bodies impossibly closer.
He ate up the sound that escaped from Dean’s mouth into his, sweeter than any honey and quicker to the blood than any whiskey.
Sam rocked up, pulling Dean down at the same time. Sam let out a harsh gasp at the warm heat of their cocks pressed together. Dean yanked on the hair still in his hand, bringing Sam’s head back down against ground. He tucked his face into the groove of Sam’s shoulder and rolled his hips, sending sparks of white-hot that radiated out from Sam’s dick.
Dean held Sam there as he rocked down, spurred on by the clenching of his brother’s hands in the muscle of his ass. Sweat gathered, muscles flexed. Sam laid there as his breath quickened and his blood warmed.
He laid there and watched the colors exploding over their entwined bodies and he thought, sex. This is what sex with Dean is going to be like.
It was as if that one thought set off a chain reaction that had Sam arching up and his vision whiting out.
“Dean. Dean. ohgoddean.”
His body went limp some indeterminate amount of time later. Dean rolled off, and collapsed on the ground next to him.
Somehow, in Sam’s daze, the notion of reciprocity jumped out. Rolling onto his side, grimacing at the already cooling come stuck in his boxers, he reached a hand out towards Dean. Before Sam could reach the fly of his jeans, Dean was rolling up onto his feet. He grabbed Sam’s hand, and helped pull him up to standing.
“Come on cowboy, let’s get you home.”
Dean guided Sam into the backseat of the Impala, sliding a worn jacket doubling as a pillow under his head. Sam’s protests died down as the engine made the car hum underneath him, soothing him to sleep.
When he opened his eyes next, they were in the lot right outside Sam’s apartment. Sam blindly stumbled up the stairs to his apartment, and even managed to locate the keys.
Once inside, Sam made moves for the couch, but Dean simply grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the bedroom. The gesture broke through the fog of sleep just enough to pique his interest.
Dean gently pushed him down onto the bed. He pulled off Sam’s shirt, unlaced his shoes, and silently slid off Sam’s dusty jeans. He yanked back the covers on the bed, and made sure Sam was tucked in.
Too drunk, too tired, too boneless to argue, Sam felt his eyes starting to close. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was warm lips on his forehead, and a voice that sounded small and far away saying, “Happy Independence Day, Sammy.”
onwards
He was making himself lunch when his phone rang. Sam couldn’t have explained why, but he didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know that it was Dean calling, finally. He also didn’t answer the phone. Couldn’t make himself answer because he couldn’t fool himself into thinking Dean would ever call back after. Couldn’t play this game of getting pulling in and then pushed away all over again.
He just sat there and let the thing ring and watch the screen flicker his brother’s name. A green light blinking now, meaning the asshole finally left a voicemail.
“Dude, stop sitting there listening to your girly ringtone and pick up the friggin phone” Sam laughed, wondering what Dean would do if he knew that when he called, Sam’s phone played the intro to Back in Black. “Sammy, come on.” Something in his voice made Sam think of that last call; his brother’s voice just this side of pleading. So he called back. Always needing to make his point, Dean waited until the fifth ring to pick up.
“About time Sammy, what were you doing playing with your hair?”
“Dean, what do you want?” Sam was done, didn’t want to play whatever game Dean had in mind.
“Go to your window.”
“What??”
“Your window Sam. Jesus I swear you’ve gotten dumber since you left.”
“Dean what the hell is going on?”
“Sam. For once in your life, just stop bitching and do what I say.”
“For once in…” Sam walked over to the window, the instinct to obey Dean overriding his annoyance, and looked down at the sidewalk.” “Dean stop screwing arou-”
Standing there - in Dad’s old leather jacket - was Dean, looking every bit the dangerous '50s bad boy, and Sam felt his stomach bottom out. Dean was leaning against the Impala, one arm holding the phone to his ear, the other shoved deep in his pocket.
“D-Dean…?”
“Hey Sam.” Dean’s voice sounded thick with emotion, but then again, maybe it was just exhaustion.
“Dean wha-“
“You gonna let me up or are you gonna make your big brother sleep in his car?”
“Yeah hold on.” Sam hanged up the phone and grabbed the room key from the hook in the kitchen. He damn near sprinted back to lean out the open window into the warm summer air. “Catch!” With an easy lob, Sam tossed the keys down to Dean. He turned away from the window, not even checking to see if Dean would make the catch. He knew he would.
****
Sam puttered around the apartment, trying to put away dirty dishes even though he knew at its messiest it was still better than wherever Dean had just come from. He moved his crumpled clothes off of his bedroom floor and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
Satisfied, he walked back into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Dean standing in the doorway, duffle bag slung over his right shoulder.
Sam couldn’t place the look on Dean’s face until his brain finally kicked in, supplying uncomfortable - or nervous - and he almost dropped dead on the spot when Dean looked down at his feet and cleared his throat.
“So uh…”
“Right, sorry man, come in.” Sam stepped aside to let Dean pass, holding out his hand when Dean dropped the key.
“Everyone out here as courteous as you, Sam?” Dean joked as he dropped his bag on the couch. Sam relaxed by degrees the more at ease Dean looked.
“Oh yeah, didn’t you know that we have to take a whole semester of etiquette to pass freshman year? Can I get you anything”
“Got hot water? Cuz I could seriously use a shower.”
Sam’s brain momentarily froze at the image, but Dean’s impatient “Dude” got it moving again. “Yeah, course. ‘S back here.” Sam led the way to the back end of the apartment, grabbing a towel from the small closet in the hallway. Dean closed the door with a just-too-wide smile and on instinct Sam shouted, “Dude don’t mess with any of my stuff!”
Once the water started running, Sam got to work grabbing sheets and a pillow to make up the sofa. God only knows where Dean was before this, so Sam figured he’d let him have the bed.
He’d have to burn the sheets after, because just the thought of Dean sleeping in his bed was enough to make Sam’s blood heat up.
He grabbed Dean’s bag and brought it into his room to make room on the couch. “Moved your bag to my room, it’s the door on the right,” Sam yelled in the direction of the bathroom when he heard the water stop.
He was just finishing getting the couch ready when Dean walked back into the living room. His hair was still wet, tiny droplets holding on at the ends, and his cheeks were flushed from the hot water. Sam took a moment to appreciate the way Dean’s shirts pulled tight over his shoulders and chest, and the way his jeans sat low on his hips and were almost worn through at the knee.
He knew this was a Pandora’s can of worms he’d probably regret opening later, but he asked anyways.
“So, not that I’m not happy to see you but uh, what the hell are you doing here Dean?”
“Dad and I’d finished a job, and he got wind of a new case and took off - you know how he is. Gave me some line about not wanting to tip the thing off, said he’d give me a call in a few days and give me the info. I had some time to kill and I was in the area and last time we talked you uh,” Sam was scared shitless about where this conversation was going but tried to keep his face still, “you said I could come. Invitation still stands right? Cause I can leave…”
Sam had to fake a cough to keep from laughing, finally understanding why Dean had looked so nervous earlier. He had honestly been worried that Sam would turn him away. Sam couldn’t decide if he was hurt or lucky that Dean didn’t know how incredibly ridiculous that was.
“No! No, stay. I just…I didn’t think you’d show…”
“Neither did I.” Dean’s eyes flicked up from whatever spot on the floor they had been focused on and connected with Sam’s, and his heart might have actually stopped. Sam couldn’t understand how he could have possibly thought that the eyes in his dreams belonged to Dean because they were never this green, never this deep, never saw so far into him it unnerved him.
“So.” Sam cleared his throat; he did always lose staring contests when they were growing up.
“What do you wanna do? If I had known you were coming I could have planned something but…” He let his sentence trail off, hoped that Dean had something in mind.
“How about fireworks?”
“What?”
“Fireworks. It’s the fourth of July, Sammy. You surfer boys still celebrate that out here right?” Dean was looking at Sam like he was crazy, and maybe he was because he honestly hadn’t known what day it was. Things like holidays became pointless when you had no one to celebrate them with.
“Uh yeah I think I saw something in the paper.” Sam opened the cabinet next to the fridge and riffled through the stack of old newspapers. If it took him longer to find the page than it should have for someone who used to read the paper like it was the newest Superman comic, Dean didn’t say anything. Sam finally found the schedule and holy shit apparently they really do celebrate the fourth out here because the times and locations cover almost two pages. “Here, have your pick.”
Dean’s eyes scanned the page for about ninety seconds before he turned the paper back around to face Sam. “You’re the one who said you were gonna show me around this town of yours. Which one looks the best to you?”
Sam glanced at the list, looking for one in an area that he recognized. His eyes found Half Moon Bay State Beach, and at least he knew where that was. He pointed at the entry, “let’s go to this one, we can eat first.”
Dean grinned. “You sure know the way to man’s heart Sammy.”
Sam rolled his eyes and told Dean to knock it off with the nickname, he was in college now after all, but deep down he had missed it. He grabbed his wallet and key off the counter and filed out behind his brother.
***
They went to the In-and-Out Burger in Redwood City, and Dean professed love at first bite. Sam navigated the half hour drive to where the fireworks were held. At the last minute, he changed his mind, remembering a better place to watch from than the crowded beach. Dean’s momentary frustration faded when he saw their destination: a community park complete with a little league field. It had a clear view of the water, so they wouldn’t miss a thing.
Dean brought out beers and a bottle of whiskey from the trunk, and they settled in on the grass by second base. According to the paper, they still had about half an hour before the show started.
“Good, plenty of time to get good and buzzed then,” Dean had responded. He tossed Sam a beer and grabbed one for himself. “Happy Fourth of July Sam.” They toasted, and they drank. And then they had another and another one after that and after that Sam stopped counting. Once there was a sizable pile of cans next to each of them, Dean broke out the whiskey.
In typical Winchester fashion they had no cups, opting instead for swigs straight from the bottle. Sam didn’t know about Dean, but he had passed buzzed about two beers ago, the combination of excitement and alcohol and just Dean hitting him all at once. A shot in the distance went off as Sam took a deep pull from the bottle, the sound traveling across the water. The show was starting.
Sam watched the lights burst over his head and over the water at the beginning, and then he watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Watched the way the colors played over his face and the way he grinned a little bit wider at every burst that unfolded. Noting the complete look of peace that had washed over Dean’s features as the show went on, realization hit Sam square in the chest. He turned completely towards his brother, surprise overriding his desire to watch the show.
“You planned this!”
“Planned what?”
“This!” Sam gestured wildly to the scene around them. “The fireworks, and the beer, and the Fourth of July.”
“Sam,” and he knew what that tone meant, knew to prepare for the ridicule, “I know I’m all kinds of awesome, and maybe you missed that week in kindergarten where you learned to read a calendar, but the fourth comes after the third and before the fifth and even I can’t do anything about it.”
“Cut the crap Dean! You weren’t ‘in the area.’ Closest Dad ever took us was Arizona; we never hunted this far west.” That’s why I knew it was safe to come here, he thought to himself.
“So?”
“So?! So you drove for god knows how long to come here. You planned to be here. Tonight.”
“Congrats Sammy, you figured out my deep dark secret.” Dean said it all without even looking at Sam, his body language never shifting away from the lazy relaxed pose that looked so foreign on his tough older brother but yet somehow managed to fit perfectly.
“Why Dean? You don’t call for weeks and then you just show up on my doorstep and…and all you want to do is go see freaking fireworks?” Dean looked right at Sam, green eyes made darker by the alcohol fixing him to the spot.
“There something else I’m supposed to want to do?” It felt like a challenge, one Sam had no problem backing down from.
“Well no, just…Why are you here Dean? Why now?”
Dean looked back up at the fireworks, and Sam was starting to think that Dean was just going to ignore him.
“96”
“What?”
“Last time we saw fireworks was July 4th 1996”
“Wait was that?" Sam felt the gears in his brain working overtime through the haze of whiskey and beer to remember the date. "The year we snuck out to that field?” And yeah, that was it because the memory came flashing back then in bits of bright colors and sparks and Dean.
Sam looked over at Dean, who had a look on his face that could only be described as nostalgic, and simply raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that year.” Dean looked at Sam for a moment, and then all his attention was focused on the bottle of whiskey rolling between his fingers.
“You’d had the worst week, and all I wanted to do was cheer ya up and I figured you were probably Winchester enough that some explosives’d turn it around. And man did you light up. Danced under the sparks like some chick from a rom-com ‘n had me half worried you were gonna catch yourself on fire.
But you were happy Sammy, so happy, and knowing that I did that, that I could do something right? Made my year. I don’t know what happened after that but, I guess I stopped being able to make you happy.”
“No, Dean you didn-”
“Sam, you left. You can’t tell me I was still doing a good job at the whole brother thing. Anyways, after your birthday, I don’t know I guess I just knew what I had to do. I uh, just wanted to see you happy again. See you look at me like I’d finally done right by you.” Still trying to make eye contact with the whiskey bottle, Dean didn’t notice Sam downright staring at Dean.
Sam wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to this introspective and emotional side of his brother. In an attempt to lighten the moment, Sam let out a laugh that was little more than a breath.
“Wow Dean, who knew holidays turned you into such a girl?”
He knew Dean would hear what Sam couldn’t say out loud, that that night was one of his best memories, that this right here was the best damn decision Dean had ever made.
Dean looked up at him then, his mouth smiling but eyes searching, and Sam could tell Dean had heard everything he meant but couldn’t say out loud. Their eyes locked for the second time that night, but this time the alcohol gave Sam the strength to not look away. Something clicked in Dean’s eyes and he nodded just slightly to himself, turned away and took a deep pull from the bottle of whiskey.
Sam watched lights from fireworks color Dean’s face and tried to identify the emotions playing there. Giving up, Sam reached over and pulled the bottle from Dean’s hands.
As he lowered the bottle from his lips, Dean gently shoulder checked him, a move all too common from years before. Sam chuckled and moved to bump Dean in return, but misjudged and wound up with his forehead on the point of Dean’s shoulder. Wincing slightly, Sam shifted just enough to rest his head on his brother’s shoulder.
The alcohol had loosened him up to the point of boldness and he couldn’t tell if his pulse was racing because of that, or if it was because of something else entirely.
“Man Sam, you’d think for a college boy youdda built up a better tolerance by now,” Dean laughed softly as he ruffled a hand in Sam’s hair. Sam turned his head into the curve of Dean’s neck, lips accidentally grazing the warm skin there, and felt Dean go taut beside him.
He slowly exhaled and pressed the ghost of a kiss on Dean’s neck, and he felt Dean sigh more than he heard it. He tried it again, moving just slightly closer towards Dean’s back. He kissed the muscle of Dean’s shoulder, silently worshiping the strength there. Dean groaned and then, as Sam was pulling back to search for a new spot -
“Sam…”
It was a warning, or it was meant to be, but it came out sounding like a plea. Sam pulled back just enough to look Dean in the eyes for the third time that night.
“Dean it’s okay. Just, let me.”
Dean tensed even further for a moment, then yielded. Sam licked his lips as he dropped his head back to Dean’s neck, warm mouth against smooth skin that tasted like sweat, leather, a reckoning. .
Dean let out a whimper when Sam’s lips latched on to the spot beneath his jaw, and a life time of living out of each other’s pockets, of listening to Dean recount his evenings in vivid detail, only meant that Sam knew how to trip all of his brother’s triggers. Knew to suck a bruise into the groove where neck meets jaw, to leave a bread crumb trail of teeth over the mound of his adam’s apple.
Sam moved slowly, savoring the feel of his brother’s pulse under his tongue, until Dean’s hands moved from their white-knuckled grip on his thighs to grab Sam and push him back.
For one horrible moment Sam thought that he had been wrong, that Dean’s groans hadn’t been encouragements at all but protests and now he’d ruined everything, but then Dean’s hands were gripping tighter, one fisting into Sam’s shirt and the other moving to tilt up his chin. Sam could feel Dean’s gaze on him, tried to avoid it but he was helpless, and slowly lifted his eyes to meet the green pair staring right back.
Only, they could hardly pass as green now, pupils blown so wide that just the tiniest ring of green was visible around them.
Sam held Dean’s gaze and was glad for it when he saw Dean’s eyes glance down to Sam’s mouth, tongue darting out to pull in his bottom lip in a motion that screamed predatory. Dean didn’t miss it when Sam licked his own lips either, more out of instinct than conscious thought. Dean’s head fell back and came back up as a groan escaped his lips.
Dean half-growled half-prayed Sam’s name and Sam thought he would let Dean call him “Sammy” forever if it meant he would say it like that. And then Sam couldn’t think anything at all because Dean was surging up and pulling Sam forward, crashing their mouths together.
It was all a mess of lips and teeth and limbs until finally one of them shifted and then they just fit. Fit like they were cut from the same cloth, and maybe they were because Sam felt something inside him fall into place; the final piece to the puzzle he hadn’t even known was incomplete.
They kissed furiously at first, the adrenaline and the needwanthavetohave tingeing everything with urgency, but it was Dean who slowed them to a languid, smoky smooth pace. Dean, who licked his way into Sam’s mouth and wound a hand into Sam’s hair and set fire to everything he touched.
Taking his cues from Dean, Sam teased his tongue along the line of Dean’s lips. Warm and wet and somehow smooth and rough all together, Sam let his teeth skim across Dean’s lower lip as he removed his tongue.
Dean hardened with tension, and Sam felt him shudder where their sides touched. Instead of pulling back, this time Dean leaned forward. Leaned into Sam and kept on leaning, using the hand on the back of his neck to keep Sam from falling, until Sam laid flat on his back in the dirt with his big brother on top of him.
It was too fast for anything, for more than the press of denim against denim. The idea of next time skittered feverishly across his hazy thoughts, even as he breathed against Dean's mouth. His hands -god Dean’s hands - slid up and down Sam’s side, fingers slotting in between his ribs and grabbing hold, as if Dean was trying to claw his way inside Sam’s skin.
Sam’d let him.
As close as they were, every part of Sam screamed closer. Awkwardly, Sam's hands fumbled beneath Dean's shirt, pressing unsteadily against his lower back. His hands too big, too shaky, as he pushed up the hem of Dean's t-shirt.
Dean shifted, rocking his hips down into Sam’s. Sam’s head rolled back as he arched into the sensation. Dean took the opportunity to mouth at Sam’s neck, biting down on the meat of his shoulder. Sam let out a heady moan.
Suddenly Dean went stock still. Sam struggled to look up at him, questioningly. Dean kept watching, waiting for an answer; as if the desperate throb of Sam's cock flush against his wasn’t answer enough.
Incapable of reassuring him through the haze of lust and alcohol, Sam’s hands scrabbled at Dean’s back, cherishing the warm flush of his skin. He slipped his hands over Dean's hips and shyly into his back pockets. Dean twisted a hand into Sam’s hair, held his face steady as he came back down for another bruising kiss. Encouraged, Sam hesitantly cupped Dean’s ass and used it to drive their bodies impossibly closer.
He ate up the sound that escaped from Dean’s mouth into his, sweeter than any honey and quicker to the blood than any whiskey.
Sam rocked up, pulling Dean down at the same time. Sam let out a harsh gasp at the warm heat of their cocks pressed together. Dean yanked on the hair still in his hand, bringing Sam’s head back down against ground. He tucked his face into the groove of Sam’s shoulder and rolled his hips, sending sparks of white-hot that radiated out from Sam’s dick.
Dean held Sam there as he rocked down, spurred on by the clenching of his brother’s hands in the muscle of his ass. Sweat gathered, muscles flexed. Sam laid there as his breath quickened and his blood warmed.
He laid there and watched the colors exploding over their entwined bodies and he thought, sex. This is what sex with Dean is going to be like.
It was as if that one thought set off a chain reaction that had Sam arching up and his vision whiting out.
“Dean. Dean. ohgoddean.”
His body went limp some indeterminate amount of time later. Dean rolled off, and collapsed on the ground next to him.
Somehow, in Sam’s daze, the notion of reciprocity jumped out. Rolling onto his side, grimacing at the already cooling come stuck in his boxers, he reached a hand out towards Dean. Before Sam could reach the fly of his jeans, Dean was rolling up onto his feet. He grabbed Sam’s hand, and helped pull him up to standing.
“Come on cowboy, let’s get you home.”
Dean guided Sam into the backseat of the Impala, sliding a worn jacket doubling as a pillow under his head. Sam’s protests died down as the engine made the car hum underneath him, soothing him to sleep.
When he opened his eyes next, they were in the lot right outside Sam’s apartment. Sam blindly stumbled up the stairs to his apartment, and even managed to locate the keys.
Once inside, Sam made moves for the couch, but Dean simply grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the bedroom. The gesture broke through the fog of sleep just enough to pique his interest.
Dean gently pushed him down onto the bed. He pulled off Sam’s shirt, unlaced his shoes, and silently slid off Sam’s dusty jeans. He yanked back the covers on the bed, and made sure Sam was tucked in.
Too drunk, too tired, too boneless to argue, Sam felt his eyes starting to close. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was warm lips on his forehead, and a voice that sounded small and far away saying, “Happy Independence Day, Sammy.”
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