Work Header

Passenger Seat

Work Text:

It had been the best night ever. Dean had smuggled Sam, a crate of fireworks, and a not-quite-full bottle of Dad's whiskey out to that empty field. They got tipsy and set off all the fireworks, having Roman Candle fights and throwing poppers at each other's feet before collapsing to the dew-damp grass in fits of exhausted giggles. They silently passed the bottle back and forth as their breathing slowed and quieted in sync, with the backs of their hands only just touching. The sounds of cicadas swelled with the moonrise, and eventually Dean shifted and rolled to his side, rousing a drowsy Sam with a small shake and a kiss to his hair. “C'mon Sammy,” he murmured, “let's head back before we get eaten alive out here.”

Sam tumbled into the front seat of the Impala as Dean turned the engine over. He eased the car out onto the deserted country back road, completely black except for the headlights and moonlight lancing through the leaves of the trees overhead. Sam rolled down the window and took a deep breath of night air, cooling and heavily scented with evergreen.

The tape deck was playing Led Zeppelin II so quietly, Sam could barely make out the organ strains of “Thank You.” He let the sleepy feeling of sips of whiskey and the familiar rush of the road under the Impala's leather bench wash over him, resting his head against the edge of the open window. Sam tried to make out the constellations as they slid by overhead, and giggled when a silly, punch-drunk thought popped into his head.

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked as he glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. “What's so funny?” Sam propped his stocking feet up on the dashboard and smiled. “I was just thinking about how you could tell the difference between a shooting star and a satellite... I wonder what would happen if they ever crashed into each other?” Dean broke out into a wide grin and ruffled Sam's hair. “I swear, Sammy, the stuff that goes through your head sometimes...” He gave Sam a gentle punch to the shoulder before turning his attention back to the road.

In the comfortable quiet that followed them in the ride back to the motel room, Sam beamed at Dean, soaking up the feeling that he had the best big brother in the world. It wasn't like tonight had been anything special, but he knew Dean would do anything to make him happy. Sam swore to himself he would do anything for Dean. He would stand proud at Dean's side while they fought monsters and all the darkness of the world; he would sit by him in the Impala with a map in his lap to be his guide.