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The evening air is crisp but not cold, not unusual for San Antonio in the spring. Some people are wearing jackets but most are just enjoying the last cool days before the coming heat. Jared leans on the bridge railing, watching the water, watching the tour boats, trying not to be horribly embarrassed by his parents. His brother and little sister are a few yards away, also pretending not to know their parents.
Then his dad gets down on one knee and holds up a lock to his mother, one with their initials on it, just like all the others. There aren’t a lot yet, but Jared counts five–no, six–couples here tonight so that number will be going up. Jared sneaks a glance at his parents and now his mom is crying as she and his dad fasten the lock onto the metal railing and then–he groans inwardly–they kiss. Right in front of everyone, like they’re teenagers who don’t have kids who are dying of embarrassment just a few feet away.
Jared turns back to the water, then lets his eyes wander to the other couples on the bridge. They’re all boy and girl couples, which isn’t much of a surprise to Jared; he doesn’t know anyone who admits to being gay. Well, anyone else, anyway, and it’s not like he’s told anyone either. Not even his parents, even though he’s sure they’ll still love him.
He wonders if anyone else ever will, though.
***
Dean pushes back from the table with a sigh of satisfaction and flips the card next to his plate from green to red. “Stick a fork in me, Sammy,” he says, patting his stomach. “I think I’m done.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbles. “Sammy was a chubby twelve year old.”
Another black clad waiter glides by on silent feet, a skewer of delicious prime rib held carefully in his gloved hands. Dean’s hand hovers over the card and Sam kicks him under the table.
“Come on, De,” he says plaintively. “Let's get out of here. I want to look around before it gets too dark.” He already knows exactly where he wants to go, but Dean doesn’t know that yet.
“Yeah, you’re right, Sammy,” Dean says, smirking a bit at Sam’s annoyed expression. “Not like I don’t have plenty of prime beef waiting for me back at the hotel.”
“Oh my God, Dean.” Sam can feel his face turn bright red as he looks around at the other tables, praying no one heard or understood Dean’s comment. Thank God no one is staring back in outrage, but Sam hurriedly signals for the check anyway.
When the check arrives, Dean hands over their freshest fake credit card and signs with a flourish. Sam makes sure to leave their tip in cash–if the card doesn’t go through, at least the wait staff won’t get stiffed.
“Alright, spill,” Dean orders once they’re out on the sidewalk. “I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”
Sam sighs inwardly. He should have known better than to try and pull one over on his brother–Dean knows him better than anyone. He reaches for Dean’s hand tentatively–Dean doesn’t always welcome public displays of affection–and is pleasantly surprised when his brother twines their fingers together.
“What, I can’t hold my boyfriend’s hand on his birthday?” Dean asks, catching Sam’s expression.
“Well, I”m not going to stop you,” Sam returns, smiling back. He feels good, suddenly, the butterflies in his stomach settling into slightly less frantic flight patterns. “Come on, I got myself a birthday present.”
“Is it back at the hotel?” Dean asks, leering, and Sam feels his face heating up again.
“No. Well, not all of it.” Sam doesn’t elaborate, just tugs Dean along through the shifting crowd. He has a moment of doubt when his destination comes into view, hoping that his brother will go along with a plan that suddenly seems silly and maudlin. He slows, wondering if he can play it off as something else, his heart sinking when he feels Dean go still beside him.
“What are they doing?” Dean asks, his voice neutral. A couple stands up and embraces, obviously happy and in love even from a distance, but when Sam sneaks a glance in his brother’s direction he doesn’t seem angry, just curious.
“We don’t have to,” Sam says hurriedly, pulling his hand free. “I just thought, since we were here–”
Dean turns to him, his expression serious for once as he recaptures Sam’s hand. “If you want to, then let's do it,” he says. “I mean, once you actually tell me what it is we’re doing.”
Sam feels a little swell of happiness. “Come on,” he says. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“Those are locks,” Dean says when they step onto the bridge. “Like that bridge in Paris.” They watch for a moment as an older couple embrace, then kiss, and he turns to Sam with a fond smile. “That’s gonna be us someday,” he says quietly. “Maybe without all the crying, but it’s gonna be you and me til the end.”
Sam’s throat tightens and he nods, all the things he can’t say fighting to get out. He swallows them all back down and reaches into his pocket. “I came prepared,” he says, his voice a little shaky. He turns the key to open the lock and hands it to Dean, turning it so their initials show clearly. “Pick a good spot, it’s gonna be there for a long time.”
Dean eyes the railing as though he’s really putting thought into where the lock should go. “Here,” he decides, pointing, and together they slide the hasp through the fence and push it closed. “I guess that makes this official,” Dean says gruffly, and pulls Sam into a kiss that seems to go on forever.
They’re both breathing hard when they finally separate. Dean’s eyes are shining, and Sam is starting to think that maybe his brother doesn’t mind this PDA stuff as much as he pretends.
“Now what do you say we head back to the room and put your other presents to good use?” Dean suggests, and Sam can’t deny that’s the best idea he’s heard all night.
Neither of them notice the young boy watching them, wonder lighting up his eyes and his heart for anyone to see. They don’t notice when he slips over to look at their lock, or hear the longing in his voice when he whispers “SW and DW”.
They don’t know he exists, but he’ll never forget about them.