(Title): Talk Tonight
2001
A warm night in June, grass between Sam's toes as he watched fireflies dance over the Impala. Dean sat by the riverbank, smoking. On the other side, beyond the thick black shrubbery and aspen trees, some dude was carelessly striking chords on his guitar. The sound carried over, softening and mingling with the wind. Sam sighed. It seemed just about right: a song to go with the message.
"What you waiting for, Sammy? Water's just about right," said Dean, wiggling his toes in the muddy, dirty water.
The smoke from his cigarette vaguely touched and overpowered Sam's nose. He tried to hold his breath, but lost, and all the smoke came barging in, down his throat, suffocating him.
"There, there."
Dean gave him a few pats on the back, making space by the river and putting his cigarette out in the wet sand. They sat together now. Sam could hear every breath Dean took through his open mouth. It was a perfect night. That's why Sam had to say it. Now. Today. He felt Dean's arm roam over his back until it rested on his shoulder. Well, one night wouldn't make a big difference, right? He could always tell tomorrow. Dean closed the gap between their knees, and Sam glanced at him, quickly.
"Something wrong?"
"No."
"Hey, if something's up you can always tell me Sammy, you know that."
Sam remained silent. He only gulped, as a flock of fireflies passed by, illuminating Dean's face. His own remained shrouded in shadow. Dean blinked away the light, trying to adjust his eyes. He withdrew his arm from Sam's shoulder, just then. Sam could clearly see the line of sand between them, the vacant gap of air. And electricity was charging through it. Dean heaved a long, tired sigh, changing his focus to the river where the guitar had ceased to play.
"I'm not pushing you, Sammy. Today's been a long day…I understand if you need some rest."
"Dean!"
His brother turned, amazed. Sam had jumped to his feet and was staring down, both hands balled to fists.
"Don't treat me like I'm some old man, or a little kid!"
"I, I'm not… You just seemed more cagey than usual… I thought a good night's sleep might do you some good."
"I'm not 'cagey'! Where did you get that idea?"
"Sam, not so loud."
"Why? Afraid someone's watching? Think they're gonna call social securities and take me away from you?"
"That isn't even funny."
"So you don't want me to suck you off tonight?"
Dean clamped a hand over Sam's mouth. He looked left and right, listening to their echoing voices, the wind and the stream. Beyond that he heard nothing. Dean breathed easier now, as he took Sam by the waist, and led him back to the Impala. Sam opened the back door seat. Dean shook his head. He walked round to the front, and sat down behind the wheel.
"Dean, you're drunk."
"I've only had a few beers. Besides, we can't stay here."
"Then let me drive."
"After what you did last summer? I don't think so."
He probably was referring to Stacey's party… Sam sighed, slumping into the passenger seat as Dean turned the engine on. Oh well, a perfect night already ruined. He would just come around and say it.
"Dean, I "
, but before he could get the next sentence out, Dean's lips were on his, and suddenly, they weren't going anywhere. Making out in the car, damp river air floating in his lungs through the open window, felt so much better than having this nasty, necessary conversation. A conversation without which he could not leave, but then Dean's fingers were on his crotch and he didn't care. Sam opened his eyes. This was happening. One last time. And he tugged Dean's shirt off.
The Impala purred and Dean grunted beneath him. Sam smiled. 'I've been accepted, Dean.' They kissed. Fingers knotting in his hair, Dean pulled him closer. His cheeks heated up, like they weren't already on fire. Dean's knees dug into his sides, a mix of pain and pleasure coursed through him. Dean grabbed his ass.
"Go get 'em, tiger."
Sam couldn't help but snort. "What do you mean?"
"You're going to college, right?" said Dean, no trace of anger in his voice.
Shell shocked, Sam stared. His fingers on Dean's sturdy pecks, feeling the steady heartbeat underneath. His brother's good natured smile came to mind, a mental image clearly sketched in the dark car. He already knew. Sam swallowed. Somehow, this made him feel worse.
"I saw the letter."
"But, it was unopened when I got it…"
"Yeah, the big packages usually mean they want you. Rejects get thin slips of paper."
Sam was unsure what to say. Dean seemed fine with it. Too fine. Maybe, maybe Sam could easily be replaced, maybe what they had was not so special. He felt his eyes water, and wiped that thought from his mind instantly.
"And, you'll be okay?"
"Sure Sammy. Hey, it was bound to happen anyway – you're smarter than me. Always been good at school and stuff."
Dean's voice caught in his throat, making a sudden pause. Dean was drunk. Suddenly the night made more sense to Sam. Everything from the fireflies to Dean's last sentence. This was their way of saying goodbye.
"Dean, I love you."
"Don't go all girly on me."
A strained laugh came from Dean's throat. Sam leaned down, and kissed him gently on the lips. They breathed each other in. Noses brushing up against, eyes locking, foreheads butting. It was the perfect night, because they knew it would be their last.
"…are you sure?"
"Yes. I want you to have it."
Dean pressed the cassette recorder into Sam's cold hands.
"Metallica , huh?"
"Don't want you to forget me. Sides, you like 'Nothing Else Matters', admit it."
Dean wiggled his eyebrows. Sam couldn't help but laugh and nod. Dean watched the mop of brown hair bob up and down. One last hug on the parking lot, that lasted a bit longer than normal. Dean would've kissed him if John hadn't been secretly watching from inside the dark motel room.
"See you next summer?"
"Sure."
Dean was probably going to break that promise. But he shook his little brother's hand before slapping him on the shoulder, and sending him out onto the wide open road with nothing but a backpack and one sliced cheese sandwich.
A/N:
Title reference from the 1995 Oasis song "Talk Tonight"