Sam grinning from ear to ear like this is what Dean lives for.
He chuckles in response to his brother's enthusiasm and falls into step behind him, hoping that Sam won't notice. He's off on some kind of excited tangent.
"-and I guess I always really just hated it because of what we do and it felt kinda ironic, y'know, like I didn't get why we'd celebrate it, but then that first year you finally got me to go to- shit, Dean!"
Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around his brother's neck from his new-found piggyback position. "Trick or treat? That's an honest question, right? I opted for-"
Sam cuts him off, jostling him up and securing hands under his legs so that he won't fall. "You opted for almost killing me, is what you did." He's trying very hard to sound angry, but he's in such a good mood that it doesn't pack much of a punch.
"Whatever, Sammy," Dean mutters, leaning down to press a kiss between Sam's neck and his shoulder.
Sam leans his head slightly to the side, giving Dean better access and giggling. "Get all that out of your system now, 'kay? I actually wanna spend a little time socializing tonight, if that's okay with you."
"Never get you outta my system," Dean tells him honestly, but in a light tone. "But I gotcha, squirt. Nothing overwhelmingly sexy while you're tryin' to bob for apples and shit."
Sam laughs, throwing his head back against Dean's chest. "Yeah, that. Thanks."
Dean kisses his cheek now, saying in a moment of rare honest affection, "I'm glad we decided to do this. You deserve to have a good time tonight. I like it when you're so relaxed."
Sam blushes, looking back down at his feet and murmuring quietly, "You deserve it, too."
Dean doesn't say anything, just rests his head on Sam's shoulder. Sam carries Dean on his back all the way to the house where the party is and tries to put him down once they're on the porch, but Dean just clings on tighter.
"Dude. You gotta let go," Sam says, attempting to pry his hands loose.
Dean clamps his legs tighter around Sam's waist and clasps his hands together. "Uh-uh."
Sam rolls his eyes, but pushes the door open and steps inside.
He almost can't see and reasons that it's probably due to a smoke machine. He smells vanilla, too, which they generally entail. The music is loud and the lights are low but he can make out a couple of people in costume dancing in what's probably the living room of the house. Dean finally drops to the ground and runs off to find the booze.
Honestly, it's not too eventful. Not much happens. They just hang out, talking mostly to the guy who invited them, whose house it is. His name's Chris, and he's become something of a friend since they've been staying in this town.
No one knows who they are.
They can dance and kiss and cuddle on the couch and no one knows who they are so it's okay.
Sam couldn't be happier.
Dean couldn't be happier that Sam's so happy. Things feel good, for the first time in a really fucking long time, and Dean's honestly a little on edge about it because he isn't used to it. It never happens. Nothing is ever just fun like this. They don't get to have this. Maybe some people do, but those people are never them.
When he looks over at Sam, though, holding onto some girl's arm and laughing an apology for bumping into her while going to refill their drinks, he thinks maybe, just this once, it's in the cards. Maybe they've finally don't enough to deserve it.
They're there for another couple of hours before Dean finally decides he's getting too tired to drive so they probably need to head out soon.
Sam carries him down the block to the Impala on his back again, just for the hell of it, and asks if he's sure he's okay to drive.
Dean says he's sure and that he really didn't have too much to drink, hopping off Sam's back willingly this time and fishing the keys out of his pocket.
When they get back to the motel, Sam immediately falls down onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow and muttering, "Sleepy."
Dean laughs, flopping down beside him. "We gotta change, babe."
Sam grunts. "Don't wanna. Just wanna sleep."
Dean rolls his eyes, slapping Sam lightly on the ass. "C'mon, Sasquatch. We gotta. You're gonna wake up uncomfortable as hell if you sleep in that."
Sam lies still for a moment before finally conceding and basically allowing Dean to change his clothes for him.
When Dean's finished, he pushes Sam back down onto the bed and changes himself before clicking off the lights before lying down beside his brother.
For a while, they're silent. Then Dean whispers. "Sammy?"
"Hmm," Sam murmurs, obviously already too far gone to be paying attention.
Dean doesn't care. He wraps his arm around Sam from behind, resting his forehead against Sam's back and whispers, "Happy Halloween."