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"I want tequila."
His brother's voice is beer rough and already very fuzzy around the edges and Dean thinks that tequila shouldn't sound like a prayer out of anybody's mouth.
"The only thing you're getting kid, is a bucket and some sleep."
"Tequila..."
He shakes his head and regrets it, because his brother's face gets weirdly green then.
"No, Sam!"
He uses a stern voice, kinda like Dad sometimes does when he really needs them both to behave… it makes him sick, because he never wanted to use that kinda voice on Sam… never ever, but right now… with his little brother drunk out of his mind at barely sixteen? Yeah… that kinda voice is not stern enough.
They could end up in so much trouble, so much if Dad ever finds out about this. He'll dust his ass first for not keeping an eye on his brother and then he'll dust Sam's ass because drinking at sixteen is a huge no.
"I waaant ittt." just a breath that's too close to his nose the way he's leaning over his baby brother, and he can actually feel the fumes burn the hair in his nose.
"Tequila is a chick drink, Sammy."
He has nothing else to say. He doesn't know what to say. He's not supposed to be doing this, this is a job for parents, for Christ's sake… for mom's and dad's to deal with when their kid gets stinkin' drunk for the first time. Maybe he should take a picture of this… Sam sprawled on the bed, hair all over the pillow, glassy eyes slipping shut and a stain of puke on his shirt… maybe taking a picture is what parents would do.
He doesn't know.
"Nooo, 's not."
And his brother sounds so young. Sixteen and too old when he's sober and sixteen and too young when he's drunk. Maybe… maybe he should get drunk more often, be young, be a child…
"Yeah it is, dude."
"Mexicans drink it aaaaaaall the time. You do too."
The way Sam drags out the 'a' in 'all' and pouts with it too… Dean has to smile, because it's just how it was when Sam was six or so and asking for chocolate that they couldn't afford. He's this close to ruffling Sam's wavy hair, but… he's scared that any fast movement would make Sam puke again. He's not doing that again. No way, no how.
So he whispers directly into his baby brother's face: "Yeah, but you'd probably want the worm out of the bottle and some salt and lemon or some shit." and watches the lines on Sam's face stumble over each other… he waits for Sam to puke, but his brother just breathes out slowly.
He twists Sam's body a bit to the left to pull the cover from underneath him and looks up when he's done tucking Sam's left arm under the blanket. He smirks: "Yeah, thought so."
Sam's only answer to that is a snore.
"Well, happy new year to me then."
He ruffles his brother's hair anyway… for the old year's sake and doesn't know that seven years later Sam won't be asking him for something as simple as tequila.
And then… Sam pukes all over the blanket and Dean's arm.
"Awesome, just… freakin' awesome."
The End.