Chapter Text
The first firework explodes too soon.
Sam has one of the fireworks propped in the ground while Dean unpacks the rest, and he's playing with a match, eyes glowing with the reflection of the flame, then on a whim he lights the fuse. “Dean, look!” His voice is full of excitement.
Dean turns and his eyes go wide, “Sammy, get back. You’re too close!” But the firework ignites and shoots up in the air, and Sam stands, wanting to follow it. And that's when everything goes wrong. Before it can fly more than a foot above Sam, the firework sputters with a sound like a dying ghoul and explodes, showering his brother in burning sparks and ash.
“SAM!” Dean hurls himself toward his brother. Sam is hunched over, covering his face, his eyes, with his arms and Dean’s heart feels just like the dead firework. He wrenches Sam’s hands away from his face and Sam squints at him, completely unharmed, with smudges of ash on his cheeks. He blinks, then,
“That. Was…AWESOME! Can I do it again?!?”
Dean’s trembling, and his whole body feels sort of numb and queasy. He doesn’t know whether it’s from anger or fear or shock but it makes him want to simultaneously punch, and hug his little brother. He settles for shaking Sam hard by the shoulders.
“You… Idiot! You don’t light a firework from two inches away! That’s how you get your face blown off, you complete moron!”
Sam’s smile falters and Dean wishes he could stop, but the words just keep pouring out. “You could have gone blind! I’m supposed to protect you, Sammy, how’m I supposed to do that if you’re the one getting yourself in trouble?!? You gotta be more careful, please, Sammy. I couldn't live with myself if I had let you get hurt. I couldn't…” Dean crushes him tight to his chest with a sound that is definitely not a sob. He knows he's being a tad emotional right now (especially considering it's him) but it just hit him that Sam won't always be there for him to protect. At some point he's gonna be out there in the world, maybe getting hurt, maybe getting killed, and Dean won't be able to do a damn thing about it.
Sam wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and runs a hand over his back like he wants to comfort him, which is stupid, Dean thinks, I should be the one comforting him, but he takes it.
Sam hesitates then speaks, “Dean, it’s okay. I’m good.”
Dean shakes his head silently, no into Sam’s shoulder.
“Dean.” Sam pulls back with some difficulty and cups his hands around Dean’s face, forcing him to make eye contact, “Really. I’m fine. And I promise I'll be more careful.”
Sam's eyes are steady, looking right at Dean, unflinching and full of concern. His hands are soft. Dean doesn't know what to say. He knows what he would like to say, but he can't quite conceptualize actually, verbally telling his brother that he loves him more than life, he would do anything for him, and if he ever lost him he doesn't know what he would do with himself. Probably something colossally stupid to bring him back. That’s not new. It’s just, each day it seems a little more likely to happen.
Sam's eyebrow does a funny thing, looking at Dean like 'what'. Dean still has his arms around Sam's waist, but they're just resting there now. He brings up a careful hand and tries to wipe some of the ash off of Sam's cheek. It smears more. "fuck" he mutters. Can’t do anything right, can he. He looks into Sam's pretty brown eyes and wonders how he got a brother like this, so fundamentally good, while he's so fundamentally not. Sam's looking at him a little strangely, something in his eyes that Dean can't read. It’s a look that Dean’s seen more and more often recently and he doesn’t know what it is and— Dean suddenly becomes a little too aware of the fact that his brother's hands are still on his shoulders, the distance between them. Sam is less than six inches away. It would be so easy, so natural to just lean down and... He should pull away now, before he does something stupid. He should laugh it off. The way Sam’s eyes are making his stomach flip. But then Sam bites his lip, still looking at Dean with that expression, like Dean is his whole entire world... And of course that's all it takes to crumble years worth of denial, and shoving these badwrong feelings to the back of his mind. Dean leans in and presses his lips to Sam's softly.
Sam gives a start, but he doesn't pull away.
It's everything Dean’s been trying not to want, so it takes a few seconds for his mind to get back in control, but when it does there's a single permeating thought:
Sam’s the only pure thing in this dark, messy, bloody life, and he’s not going to take advantage of the one person who trusts him like this just because he wants to. No matter how much he wants to.
The pit in his stomach turns into a dark gaping void. He realizes what he's done now. Ruined everything. There's no coming back from this. It’s all over.
He pulls back carefully. Sam is silent, his face unreadable. Dean’s insides are tied up in painful knots, but externally (he hopes) his face is blank as his mind. No, that’s not true. His mind racing, is running a thousand miles an hour. Sam’s not saying anything and that’s definitely not a good sign and, oh god, what has he done? It’s probably because Sam is still in shock and all and doesn’t know what to say to Dean, his brother, who just kissed him in a totally not brotherly way and fuck, he's destroyed everything hasn’t he? Dean attempts to speak, but doesn't get much out,
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to– (kiss you.) I shouldn’t have– (done that.) …I don’t want you to think that– (you have to feel the same because we hunt monsters for a living and everything is screwed up anyway)” But then Sam reaches out, like it’s simple, like he’s done it a hundred times, drags him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. Dean's brain is melting. It shouldn’t possibly feel this good, kissing his kid brother who's got absolutely no idea what he’s doing. It shouldn’t. But it does. Sam is so sweet it makes Dean’s teeth ache and he can’t remember if he was ever that sweet. He definitely isn’t now.
He wants to ask if Sam's really sure about what he’s doing, because Sam's too good for this, for him, he knows that. But somehow it doesn't seem necessary when Sam wraps his arms tight around Dean's neck, and Dean lets him pull him close, and Sam sighs.
Sam is all he ever wanted, every last annoying habit. And he'll never let go.
After what seems like a really long time (but in reality is probably more like a minute) the kiss ends, clumsy, sweet, perfect. Dean looks at his brother.
Sam's face is pink and he's sort of trying not to smile and Dean knows his own expression has got to be way too soft right now, and maybe at some point he'll be comfortable with that, but for now he goes for humor. He looks at Sam seriously, and says, "No chick flick moments, now."
Sam stares at him, then starts giggling, then bursts out laughing. He's holding onto Dean's shoulders to keep upright and it's contagious, Dean can't stop smiling. When Sam finds himself able to speak again he says, "I think it's a little too late for that, Dean." trying for mock seriousness, but the grin ruins it. Dean smiles, and it's not awkward or too sweet or too anything anymore so he wraps an arm around Sam's shoulder and says, "Hey, you wanna light the rest of the fireworks now?"
"Duh." Sam says, like the teenager he's becoming, and Dean grins and ruffles his hair.
It was already the best Fourth of July of his life, but the rest of the fireworks going off perfectly doesn't hurt either.