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“Fuck!”
“What, what, what?” Dean ran to the kitchen, from where Sam’s scream was coming, heart beating, ready to kick the ass of whatever was hurting his brother. It didn’t matter that they were safe from the things that go bump in the night; he would never lose this instinct. But when he reached the doorsill of the kitchen, Sam was alone in front of the sink.
“Nothing, I burned myself,” he muttered, hand under the spurt of cold water. He must have felt Dean’s roll of eyes, as he added: “Sorry.”
Dean entered the kitchen. He looked at the open oven then at his brother. “Why the hell didn’t you use a potholder?”
Sam answered him with a bitchface level 3 (out of 10, so that wasn’t that bad) and went back to wincing when he looked at his finger. Since his exams, he sometimes seemed as miserable as an abandoned puppy. Dean didn’t resist and took his brother’s hand to kiss his pinky.
“Better?”
Sam nodded.
“Resolution for the new year though: learn to use this damn kitchen.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Dean smirked and squatted in front of the oven, oven mitt in one hand. The delicious smell filled his nostril and made him hum.
“Looks good, Sammy!”
“No, no, get back, I wanna do it myself! Give me that!” Sam demanded.
Dean threw him the oven mitt and moved back. Sam proudly took the pie out of the oven, without burning himself this time, and made it slide on a plate that he put on the countertop. He grinned at Dean, who settled his head on his shoulder and hugged him from behind.
“Good job, Sam.”
“Thanks.”
They didn’t talk for a few seconds. Sam was still looking dreamingly at his pie; Dean could feel it, as much as he could feel his mouth watering.
“Can we eat it once you’re done admiring it?”
“Yeah, yeah, alright.”
They settled on the couch to eat, Dean comfortably lying his legs on his brother’s. The first bite of pie was a bliss. All his senses intensified by the rush of sugar in his system, Dean looked around. The house they rented was small and they didn’t have a spare room to invite Sam’s friends to stay over, but it was enough for them. It was their home now. Besides, they had been lucky to find it. It was close to the university and the money Dean had put aside over the years had been enough to pay the first two months of rent, letting them enough time to settle down and find jobs. They had needed some weeks to adjust but now Dean was sure they had taken the right decision. It was going to be a good life. It already was, to be fair.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Dean cleared his throat. “Are we going to what’s-his-name party?”
“Brady’s?” Sam absent-mindedly moved the rest of his pie around the plate with his fork. “I don’t know. You wanna go?”
No, Dean didn’t. Sam’s friends were okay and he was glad that he had managed to make some good ones after a little period of adaptation, but after growing up in each other’s pocket, and only in each other’s, it was hard to share his brother. He tried to be accommodating nonetheless.
“Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want you missing out on it. You know, first New Year’s Eve in your new life, it’s not nothing.”
Sam seemed to give it a thought but eventually shook his head. “Nah, I’ll see them tomorrow.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. Besides Brady hates when we both come. I swear to you, he bawled me out the other day, saying we spend all our time kissing!”
Dean smirked. “He’s not totally wrong.”
“Yeah and that’s entirely your fault!” Sam retorted with a playful smile.
Dean put both of their plates on the table to straddle his brother. “Well I can finally have you all for myself without having to hide. ‘M not gonna let any chance to kiss you pass me by,” he murmured suavely before kissing his brother. He tasted like apple, with a little more sweetness because it was his Sammy.
“Thanks for the pie, baby boy.”
“You’re welcome.”
A few minutes before midnight, they stopped their make-out session to turn on the TV and watch the Time Square Ball drop. While they waited, Dean felt a sudden excitation rise in his chest. A new year would begin soon, the first one he and Sam could be who they wanted to be, together. A year that would begin and end with his brother, until the one after starts. He nuzzled Sam’s neck, smelling the scent of his world. He would never get tired of it.
“Hey, Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“What are your resolutions?” Dean nonchalantly ask.
Sam frowned. “Since when are you so cheesy?”
“Okay, sorry to be in the end of the year’s mood, party pooper.”
“Alright, then tell me yours,” Sam said with a sneer.
Dean opened his mouth but the words stayed stuck in his throat. I want to love you more. I want to carry your burdens until I can’t anymore. I want to hold the doors open for you and not fall asleep while you’re still studying at 2am. I want to say “I love you” to you.
“You want to fuck me more, that’s it, right?”
Dean smiled. It didn’t matter. “You know me so well, Sammy.”
Screams from the TV prevented him to see Sam’s bitchface – level 5, probably. When he turned his head towards it, a big “10” was displayed in the middle of the screen, soon followed by a “9”. Dean jumped out of his seat.
“Oh! Hey, hey, hey! 8…”
Sam had stood up too and Dean felt him intertwine his fingers with his. They beamed at each other before resuming the countdown in unison.
“4…3…”
Sam held his hand even more tightly, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.
“2…1…”
They let the New Yorkers express their joy and silently turned to look at each other.
“Happy New Year, Sammy.”
“Happy New Year, Dean.”
They kissed gently. Dean loved these kisses. It was like they breathed life inside of each other. When they pulled back, Dean let his forehead rest against his brother’s and stroke his cheek.
“I love you.”
They way Sam’s eyes lit up was worth everything. Dean hoped that he would be able to make his brother gleam like that until the end.