Work Text:
“Hey Dean?”
Dean looked up from his disassembled gun to see his baby brother doodling on his Spanish notebook, eyes hidden behind his too long hair. It had become a habit lately for him to talk to his brother without even being able to see his face, as he mostly kept it resolutely down – except for when he was fighting with their Dad. Dean missed laughing with Sam, missed sleeping in the same bed and keeping him close to him at night, missed the way they used to be. They were drifting apart. Dean kept reminding himself that it was normal; he couldn’t expect his fourteen-year-old brother to still need him and only him. But it didn’t ease the sting in his heart whenever Sam went to bed without wishing him good night. They didn’t argue, no – Dean would have preferred it; at least he would have known what was going on in his little brother’s head – they just didn’t talk. The moments they shared were quiet, Sam brooding at the table – always with a book open in front of him – and Dean trying his best not to stare at him. So when Sam opened his mouth that afternoon, Dean wondered if the sky was going to fall on his head.
“Yeah?”
“The school has this…Valentine’s Day dance tonight…”
“I’m flattered Samantha, but don’t you think I’m a little too old for you?”
His joke – if it was a joke – fell flat, either because Sam had decided it sucked too much to be worth reacting to, or because he hadn’t heard him. His pen had stopped above his scribble. His knuckles were white.
“Someone asked me out to it.”
Dean smiled to himself, bitterly. Sam had never talked about the girls he liked, he never went out. But Dean knew it was bound to happen one day. He just didn’t think it would come so soon. “That’s great Sammy.” Even he heard the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “Like it when girls take the initiative, huh?” he added for good measure.
Once again, his pity attempt at easing the atmosphere in the room as well as the knot in his stomach failed. Sam let go of his pen and finally rose his head. In the grey motel room, his hazel irises shone. He passed a hand through his hair before setting his eyes on Dean.
“It’s…a boy.”
Dean’s brain stopped functioning. He saw himself staring at his brother, mouth gaping. “Oh,” was all he was able to get out of it. Sam liked boys. Sam, his little brother with sunflower eyes, wanted to hold other boys’ hands and kiss them on the lips and…He snapped out of it, just as Sam was closing his books in nervous movements.
“No Sam wait, I’m sorry. I was just surprise, that’s all.”
Sam stopped and casted a shy glance at him. Dean left his chair to sit on the one next to him.
“I don’t care. I mean, yes, I care but it doesn’t change anything for me, ‘kay? You’re still my baby brother.” He waited for Sam to nod briefly before going on. The strange, sick feeling in his stomach was still there but it wasn’t going to prevent him to do his big brother job. “So that guy…”
A smile appeared on Sam’s face as he said: “Matt.”
“Matt. You like him?”
“Yeah.”
“You know him well?”
“Yeah, we have several classes together.”
“He’s a good guy?”
Sam glared at him. “Is it an interrogation?”
Dean rose his eyebrows. Now that was a good old and nice brotherly conversation. “I’m the one asking the questions here,” he answered, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning on the back of the chair. He waited.
Sam sighed. “He’s…Yes, he’s nice.”
Dean searched for another question to tease his brother – it was easier than to ask himself was why the thought of this Matt taking his little brother to his first dance simultaneously made him want to cry and punch something – but Sam looked so happily dreamy that he didn’t have the heart to ruin his mood. He tapped the table two times to bring Sam back to him.
“Good. Want me to come pick you up?”
“I-I can walk if you don’t want-”
“Don’t be stupid Sammy, I’m not gonna let you walk alone in the streets in the middle of the night.”
“Thanks Dean.”
There it was, that dimpled smile Dean hadn’t seen in so long. If he could still make him smile like that, nothing was impossible.
“I don’t need to give you the talk, right?”
“Oh my God Dean it’s just a school dance for God’s sake,” Sam muttered, plunging back into his homework.
**
Dean parked in front of the school thirty minutes before the hour Sam had told him. The music blasting inside the building made him smile indulgently. This whole thing was so lame. He had never liked school dances, only complying to attend if it made it easier to get into a good girl’s pants – they were the kinkiest. But Sammy was different from him. He was the type to enjoy cheesy dates, kisses on the cheek, slow dances…With guys. Dean sighed. So that was what had been eating him up all this time. He couldn’t really blame the kid. He was glad Sam had talked to him about it and he had been sincere; it didn’t change anything between them. But inside of him, everything was messed up. He put it on the fact that this was his baby brother and God, Sam was still so little. But it wasn’t the entire explanation. He shook off the burning feeling creeping up in him. At least, now that he knew, they would be able to talk together like they used to; no secrets, at least on Sam’s side.
He stretched and opened the door to lean against the car as he waited for his brother. For a February night, the air wasn’t too cold. Groups of teens were scattered around the parking lot and on the grass before the school. Dean noticed one sitting alone on the stairs leading to the entrance of the school. He did a double take. It took him a second to realize that it was Sam. Yes, it was his brother, sitting on his own, head down and shoulders drooping. Wind lashed Dean’s face as he quickly made his way to him.
“Sammy? How long have you been waiting here?”
“I don’t know, an hour or two,” Sam murmured between the knees he had brought up to his chest.
“What? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you while you were with a girl.”
“I wasn’t- never mind. Where’s your...” Friend, boyfriend, date; Dean crossed out the words as they passed in his head. “Matt?”
“Inside.”
Dean couldn’t see his brother’s face in the dark but the way he whispered his answers was all he needed to know that something bad had happened. A horrendous thought made its way inside his mind. He remembered what it was like to be fourteen, to be horny and not mature enough to control your impulses. He clenched his fists.
“Did he make you do something you didn’t want to? Did he hurt you?”
“No. I’m okay.”
Sam’s voice broke as he said the last word and Dean’s heart cracked. He was used to Sam crying, ever since he was a baby, but it didn’t make it more bearable. He wanted to reach out to wipe the tears running down on his brother’s face but he sat next to him instead.
“Alright,” he said gently. As much as he needed to know why his brother was crying to stop the panic from making him lose his mind, he knew that rushing things would only result in Sam shutting down. “Remember our rule? You don’t get to cry before you tell me what’s wrong.”
Sam nodded, chin trembling.
“So what happened?”
“It was a joke. I thought he had- I thought I had made him ch-change but he-he…He pretended a-all this time just so he could…humiliate me tonight in front of everyone. A-and all the other bullies were with him and he kept saying these…things…” A whole new set of sobs cut his breath, despite how hard he was trying to go on.
Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling him close to him so that his brother’s head was resting in the crook of his neck. That way he didn’t see that his eyes were tear-filled too.
Cheerful screams came from inside the school and someone probably turned the stereo up as the chorus of How Deep Is Your Love reached their ears. Sam’s shoulders shuddered under Dean’s hand and he buried his nose deeper in Dean’s sweater.
“Yeah, disco makes me want to cry too. Can’t believe it’s called music.”
Sam snickered and it probably put snot on Dean’s clothes but he didn’t care. He tightened his embrace around his little brother. Each time he thought that Sam had ran out of tears, new ones appeared and soaked his sweater, like it would never stop. The air became colder; teenagers passed by them, glancing curiously or completely ignoring them; music came and went – still disco, though. They both stayed still, the only movements Dean made being the soothing rubs on his brother’s back until the last sobs and spasms faded. Then only, Dean authorized himself to examine his feelings. There was only one.
“I’m gonna break this scumbag’s neck,” he uttered behind his gritted teeth.
“No, Dean. Let’s just go.”
**
Back at the motel room, Sam only took off his shoes before sitting in the middle of his bed, chin resting on his knees. Dean slumped onto a chair facing his baby brother. There was definitely no water left in him, or else he would still be crying. His glassy hazel eyes were set on the ugly duvet but his frown and the drooping corners of his mouth betrayed his thoughts. He looked like a painting, even under the disgusting yellow ceiling light. He was beautiful. A spurt of love pushed Dean’s tired limbs to move. He wasn’t going to let his brother spend the night brooding over a stupid bastard. It was Valentine’s Day and Sam was going to have the goddamn evening he had dreamt about.
Dean stood up and turned off the main light to switch on the bedside lamps. Then he fumbled with the radio on the nightstand to find a good station. It wasn’t easy, with all the Valentine’s crappy tunes. A twitch of his heart made him stop when he heard the delicate piano notes of a music. The warm and deep voice resonated in the room. Turn down the lights, turn down the bed, turn down the voices inside my head. Dean turned his head to look at his brother. He was watching him.
"What are you doing?” he murmured.
“You don’t need stupid school dances, Sammy. You have everything here. You have me.”
Dean held out his left hand toward his brother. Sam huffed a laugh and went back to looking away but Dean didn’t give up. He was doing this for his brother but, for the first time in his life, he would actually be happy to dance with someone.
“Come on, you’re not going to turn down a dance to your big brother, are you?”
Sam rolled his eyes but put a shaky hand in his and let himself be pulled away from the bed. Once he was up, he waited, sad eyes set on Dean. Dean grazed his brother’s back with the tip of his fingers until his hands were at the bottom of it, not pressing, just resting. The chorus started. Sam put his hands on his shoulders.
“On this song? Seriously?” he grumbled against Dean’s chest, as they started to turn slowly.
“It’s George Michael’s version. George Michael always gets a pass. And it’s better than the Bee Gees anyway.”
Sam answered after a short silence, with a softer voice. “Yes, it is.”
The second chorus was about to start when Sam talked again.
“I love you, Dean.”
“I love you too, Sammy.”
Sam lifted his head from Dean’s chest. Dean opened the eyes he didn’t know he had closed, lost in the dulcet melody and the fragrant hazelnut-scented hair his nose was buried in, to meet his. They stopped turning.
“No, Dean. I mean I love you. As in-”
Dean smiled and brushed his brother’s cheek.
“You’re not in love with me Sammy; you’re heartbroken.”
“I can be both.”
“No. You’re sad and I’m here, that’s all it is, Sam. It’s a crush at most, it’ll go away. That’s not love. Love is…” Love is when I let you have the last bowl of cereal even though you’ve been bitching all week long and I haven’t had any. Love is when you smile at me and I feel like I can take on the world. Love is when I look at you during the night and wonder why the hell I got so lucky. Love is when the pain is worth it because at least I get to have you as my little brother. “It’s different.”
Sam’s lips were on his before he could see them coming. They were velvet, sweet under the saltiness of his sadness. He was tender, tentative, like a kid kissing his big brother. Dean wanted to eat him alive. It took him all his strength not to. He held back, held his breath and let him pull out of the kiss.
“Isn’t that love?” Sam asked with his oh so innocent voice. And God, he was so little.
“No…it’s not.” Love is when I love you enough to keep you away from me. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Sam’s eyes were glistening in the dark of the motel room. A tear ran down his face. Dean wiped it with the tip of his finger.
“Thanks for the dance, Dean.”
“Always.”
Sam put his arms around his neck and Dean let his hands rest on his brother’s back. They slowly turned together as the song finished, Sam’s face pressed against Dean’s heart. That way he couldn’t see that tears were wetting his face too.