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Halloween: Sam’s least favorite day of the year. One time, he said he would erase October 31st from the calendar, despite what it would probably do to time and space. He hates people wanting to celebrate and make light of all the terrible things out there in the world. Dean and Dad think it’s not really a big deal; of course people should be scared of the dark, but Halloween is a coping mechanism for the kids and adults who don’t want to accept monsters really exist. If the general public want to dress up as witches, vampires, ghosts, and werewolves and get free candy from a bunch of strangers, then so be it. Sam hates it, which is obviously why Dean has to love it.
It’s the day before Halloween, and while Sam is at the store getting dinner, Dean decides to hang up some of the decorations he bought. Dad is at the library doing research on ghouls and won’t be back at the house ‘til tomorrow, so it’s Dean’s opportunity to tidy up the house as well as decorate it. He only gets to hang orange and black streamers and balloons on the ratty porch and from the living room ceiling before Sam gets home, grocery bags in tow. He instantly frowns as soon as he walks up to the house. Displeased, he practically drags the bags to the kitchen, batting balloons out of his way. Dean leans against the front door frame and watches him put the groceries away irritatingly.
“What,” Dean starts. “You don’t like it?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I’m not even halfway done. I got a few strings of orange lights, some Jack-O-Lantern’s, uh, and some of those lawn witches that you stick in the grass. Or, well, dirt, in this case.”
“Dean, it’s ridiculous. No one is even gonna come over. This house is in the middle of nowhere, which is why we’re squatting in it.” Sam says as he carefully organizes cans of soup in a cupboard.
“No, no, listen – when I was in town, I heard some people talking about the house and how it’s haunted. Kids are gonna flock here. Imagine how weirded out they’re gonna be when an abandoned house is decorated. I even bought some candy to hand out. We should wear some of Dad’s old clothes and cover ourselves in dirt so we look like old ghosts, or somethin’.” Sam stares at Dean as he speaks and rolls his eyes, placing milk and butter in the barely-working fridge. “I think it’s cool.”
Dean retreats back to the front yard and kicks rocks around. He grabs the rake and tries to neatly brush the leaves into a huge pile. When he hears Sam slowly walk outside and step on the creaking floorboards of the porch, he grins to himself. It’s nearing ninety degrees and Dean is getting hot doing all this yard work. Not to mention walking everywhere because Dad has the car. The hiss and pop of a soda can opening and the groan of the front porch step as Sam sits down makes Dean smile.
“You gonna watch me do all the work, you punk?” Dean asks and turns around to face Sam.
“Yep! I want no part of this.” Sam answers and takes a sip of his soda. He’s only in a white t-shirt now; he must have shed his heavy flannel when he got home from the store. Dean raises an eyebrow.
“Alright, so be it. Fuck, it’s hot, huh?” Dean pulls his own navy blue t-shirt over his head and whistles exasperatedly. Sam’s eyes widen and Dean smirks as he returns to raking.
Dean can nearly feel Sam’s hybrid glare of anger and attraction as he tidies up the yard. It’s obnoxious Dean actually is doing all the work and Sam is simply observing, but at the same time, it gives Dean gratification knowing he’s making his little brother drool. They only discovered the feelings they both have were mutual less than a year ago, on Dean’s birthday when they were drunk and made out and neither of them threw up. Well, Sam did, twice, but it was only because he drank moonshine, beer, and a shot of whiskey, not because he just had a three-hour make out session with his older brother.
It takes Dean twenty minutes and a lot of radiating teenage angst giving him the equivalent of a sunburn, but he finally finishes raking all of the leaves into a neat pile. He tosses the rake onto the mostly-dirt yard and grabs a small towel from his back pocket to pat on his face. Dean’s sweating and it’s gross and he just wants to take a cold shower, but he knows he has to finish this before it gets dark. He makes eye contact with Sam as the kid gets up and slowly walks not towards Dean, but towards the pile of leaves. Dean’s eyes widen and he raises a hand up over the pile defensively. In a quick motion, Sam tumbles into the pile and rolls around in the dirt, flinging leaves everywhere. Dean purses his lips and watches Sam laugh away evilly. He squats and stares at Sam, waiting for him to finish. He’s not mad, no way, but he’s fucking exhausted and annoyed. Yeah, he’s definitely annoyed. Dean sighs heavily and Sam ceases laughing, a glint of fear in his eyes.
“Dean.” Sam says, panicked.
“You’re gonna pay for that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yup.”
Sam chuckles in disbelief but yells as Dean gently falls on him, holding Sam’s wrists over his head with both of his hands. He slowly gets comfortable hovering over Sam and breathes deeply. God, he wants Sam so bad, it’s killing him. He needs him like air and wants to worship at his feet and touch him and hold him. He was Sam’s first real kiss and hell, if he doesn’t feel just a little bit guilty. One night, Sam got high and opened up to Dean for hours about how he’s loved him and wanted him his whole life but it just made him feel like a freak because he thought Dean wouldn’t want him. Sam’s practically been obsessed with Dean from the day he was born, and it took Dean longer to accept Sam’s feelings for him than it took him to accept his feelings for Sam. He’s taking Sam from his life; he’s preventing him from loving another person, but he secretly loves it. Dean is obsessed with Sam’s need for him and he takes it in stride, because Dean loves Sam just as much, if not more, than Sam loves Dean.
“Dean…” Sam whispers. Their lips are so close, their hips, their stomachs – they’re so close. “Please.”
“Sammy.” Dean breathes. “I can’t. We can’t. Not yet.”
“God, Dean, please. Something. I need something.”
Sam’s pupils are blown to hell; his eyes are practically glowing. Dean sighs and smiles softly, removing his grip on one of Sam’s hands to caress his cheek. He leans down and presses their lips together. They kiss passionately, Sam quickly easing into it and tilting his head to match Dean’s movements. Dean holds Sam’s face in his hand and gently ruts his waist on Sam. He’s about to burst into flames, but Sam’s the one with the teenage hormones, so he can’t imagine what he feels. Dean moans pleadingly as Sam wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer. He wants, he wants, he wants, but he can’t have.
“Dean, please, fuck me, please fuck me.” Sam whines.
“It’s only three years, baby. Three more years ‘til we can run away and be together.”
“I don’t want to wait three years.” Sam rests his head back onto the pile of leaves and groans.
“You’re gonna be waiting twenty-five to life if I fuck you before you turn eighteen.” Dean feels Sam shiver and furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?” Dean sits up and kneels next to Sam, who’s still messing with the leaves.
“No. The thought of not getting to touch you for five minutes drives me crazy, but for twenty-five years? I’d go nuts without you.”
“Don’t you go losing your mind on me, yet, Sammy. You’re supposed to drive me to the nuthouse, not the other way around.” Dean chuckles and helps Sam stand. They walk inside and Dean turns to look at the messy yard before shutting the front door. “I’m so gonna kill you for messing up my pile.”
“You’re gonna kill me on the day before Halloween? Careful, big bro, I might just haunt you from the grave.” Sam makes a gesture with his hands equivalent to “Boo!” and Dean shakes his head. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“Aw, Sammy, I’d never wanna be rid of you.” Dean pulls Sam to him and kisses him deeply. He smiles onto his little brother’s lips and raises an eyebrow. “Guess we’ll just have to die together.”
“Yeah,” Sam says and looks up at Dean. “Guess so.”
And they do. Dozens of times, they do. But the only time that matters is where they revisit that front lawn on the day before Halloween and relive it for what feels like a hundred heavenly years.