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Sam relents. He should be studying for his History test, but… he has to admit, watching a movie with Dean sounds better. And it’s his birthday. And Sunday. And Dean promised he could have a beer since he’s sixteen now. So, Sam relents.
Not that he’d really have any choice in the matter, with Dean being so persistent. He thinks Dean gets lonely, that’s why he does these things. And, it being Sam’s birthday is just a really good excuse that Dean knows Sam can’t resist. Bastard.
The microwave beeps, pulling Sam out of his musings. He plucks the steaming bag of popcorn out and tosses in the second one, stabbing at the buttons to get it going again, then dumps the first bag into a large bowl. He’s not sure how he got stuck making the popcorn on his birthday...other than the fact that Dean always manages to burn it.
Sam sighs as he flops down on the couch after emptying the second bag of popcorn in the bowl and dropping it on the coffee table. Dean should be back from the video store and getting beer any minute now. He glances around the apartment, for once not a shithole. The carpet isn’t stained, there are no holes in the walls even though it could use a coat of paint. Last week it rained for two days and there doesn’t seem to be any leaks in the roof. It even has a nice, big TV and a VCR. A lot more than most ‘furnished’ apartments they stay in.
They’ve been here a month already, and Sam can feel himself relaxing, settling in. He knows it’s dangerous, feeling like that. Depending on how the hunts in the area go, Dad could be back tonight, barking at them to ‘Load the car boys, we’re leaving in sixty. ’ And Sam’s stomach will clench, he’ll bite his tongue and pack up with a minimum of grumbling. Because, what else is he going to do?
He’s learned not to get close to people. That’s when the inevitable move really hurts. That’s when the fights with Dad happen. He’s well aware of what those fights do to Dean, tugging him in the middle between him and Dad, and Sam knows Dean really is on both their sides. He really knows that. So he tries. Tries to shove the hurt down, let the anger out in running and sparring. He does whatever he can to just not fight with Dad.
Because, even though Dean acts like a dickhead big brother some (okay, most) of the time, Sam knows Dean really cares about him. He knows Dean actually likes Sam, even though they bitch and bicker and fight - well, constantly, really. Sam knows it’s all an act, that underneath it all, as much as Dean would call him a girl for even thinking it, there’s actually love there.
Sam knows because every year on his birthday, Dean seems to manage something like this. Sometimes it’s fun, like last year in Indiana. They went to an arcade, spent every last one of the quarters Dean had been saving for over a month on video games - money he’d hidden from Dad because Dad would have used it for laundry or gas or something practical. Because Dean understands that even though it’s not practical, Sam needs stuff like that once in awhile. Just an afternoon to feel normal.
Then sometimes Dean is a complete dick, like on Sam’s fourteenth birthday when he made Sam sit down and watch a porno with him. ‘C’mon, Sammy, watch it - you’re gettin’ older now, you gotta learn this stuff somehow!’ Dean had said, laughing and tugging Sam’s hands away from covering his face. Sam really thought his face was going to be permanently red by the end of it. But, after it was over, Dean tossed a birthday card to Sam, and inside was a gift certificate to a bookstore. And Dean took him there that night to spend it, not bitching once when it took Sam two hours to decide which books to get. Because no matter how much Dean teases him, Sam knows Dean really gets him.
Sam hears the key scraping in the lock, and two seconds later Dean is bustling through the room, dropping a six pack and a grocery bag full of candy on the coffee table before pulling off his jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch and flopping down. The corner of the hard plastic video box thumps Sam’s thigh when Dean tosses it at him.
“Got The Poseidon Adventure. Pop it in and start this party, little brother!” Dean says, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn.
“It’s my birthday - you get up and put it in, jerk,” Sam says, tossing the video back across the couch.
“Ugh! Such a bitch.” Dean spits the words, but gets up anyway. On his way back to the couch after putting the tape in the VCR, he snags two beers from the holder on the table. He wrenches the caps off both with his ring, letting them clink to the floor - Sam will end up picking them up later, like always. Dean passes one of the bottles over, not letting go when Sam grabs hold of it. “You tell Dad about this and I’ll kill you...right before he kills me. Got it, kiddo?”
“Yeah, I got it, Dean.” Sam smiles as he brings the bottle up to his mouth and takes a long drink. Just then the movie starts, and instead of The Poseidon Adventure, it’s the unmistakable theme song of Casa Erotica. Sam nearly chokes before his mouthful of beer spews out all over himself and the coffee table. “DEAN!”
Dean is curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his stomach as he laughs hysterically, tears streaming down his face.
“Oh man,” he says a few minutes later, once he’s recovered - mostly. “I wish I had a camera...that FACE!”
“You’re such a dick, Dean,” Sam mutters, scowling as he returns to the living room with a handful of paper towels and starts wiping up the spray of beer.
“I know. It’s why you love me, Sammy!” Dean chuckles as he pulls the real video out of his jacket pocket and drops it on the coffee table. Sam pulls out the porno, tossing it (maybe a little too hard) at Dean before he pops in the movie.
Two hours later, the popcorn bowl is nothing but kernels, the beer is gone (Dean drank four, Sam two) and both the movie and the porno have been rewound and tucked back into Dean’s jacket to be returned. Dean is the one crawling around the floor picking up the spilled popcorn, M&Ms and discarded bottle caps, while Sam is dozing on the couch. After he’s taken the trash and dishes to the kitchen, he nudges Sam’s shoulder to rouse him.
“C’mon buddy, don’t fall asleep on the couch, go to bed.”
Sam mutters something unintelligible, but gets up and shuffles toward the bedroom. When he reaches the door he stops, turns around to face his brother.
“Thanks, Dean,” he says, a sleepy smile pulling the dimples out in his cheeks.
“Happy birthday, little brother.”