A History of Reasons - Epilogue
The sun is setting and their feet ache from walking all day, but neither one complains, they just catch each other’s eyes and smile. Both of them relishing in the aches of their bones, because it means they’re here--that they’re finally doing something just for them.
Dean is downing his second peanut butter and jelly soda from the Carnation Cafe and Sam is busy digging into what he considers ‘heaven in a cup’, which is called a dole whip by everyone else. And Dean nearly loses a finger when he tries to swipe a taste, Sam snarling hastily, saying something along the lines of, ‘go get your fucking own.’ But Dean just noisily slurps his soda and makes a face at Sam.
“It’s been five hours and we haven’t even seen the mouse,” Dean states suddenly. He sounds like a kid who bought a cereal box just for the prize, only to find that there was nothing inside.
Sam smiles around his spoon and speaks with a mouthful of his dole whip, “We have two more days. We’ll see him.” He pats Dean’s back condescendingly and laughs when Dean throws a ‘fuck you’ glare back his way.
“Tryna do something nice for my Brother and this is what I get in return.” Dean says, turning away from Sam slightly in a fake act of hurt feelings.
When cold lips press against his cheek, Dean almost drops his cup on the ground.
“That better?” Sam says slyly, his lips still feathering the side of Dean’s cheek.
Dean clears his throat and can only manage a somewhat audible, “Mmhmm.” He meets Sam’s eyes and can feel the heat of a blush curling its way around his cheeks.
The moment is broken however, when there’s a sudden burst of kids screaming from behind them. In perfect synchronization, they both turn to look at what is causing the commotion, only to see a beautifully dressed, Belle, in her yellow gown and a sea of kids and their parents swarming her for autographs and pictures.
“C’mon, Sammy.” Dean’s arm loops through his Brother’s, pulling him in Belle’s direction.
Sam almost trips over his own shoes with the sudden jolt of movement, but he catches himself and is moving with Dean. “What are you doing?” Sam questions, shoving his spoon into the remainder of his uneaten dole whip.
Dean doesn’t answer Sam with words, but instead just pushes him into the sea of kids, who are waiting for their turn with Belle. Sam looks behind him and sees Dean waving him forward and there must be a scowl on his face, because Dean laughs in response--like he’s so damn proud of himself.
“‘Scuse me Mister!” A little blonde girl huffs as she pushes past Sam’s long legs.
Sam looks forward and sees exactly four kids in front of him and notices the girl dressed as Belle, is eyeing him curiously. He knows he stands out obnoxiously, most of these kids not being much taller than his knees. And he curses himself in the moment, his cheeks filling with pink, because yea this is all just a little too ridiculous.
He’s turning around to make his escape, when Dean gives him a ‘don’t even’ look, his cellphone already out to capture a picture. So Sam sighs and turns around again to wait his turn.
“Well, hello there!” Belle finally greets him, her eyes bright and childlike. “You are as tall as every Prince Charming I’ve ever read about!” She smiles and holds her arms open, inviting Sam in.
“Uh--um, thanks….” Sam says awkwardly, his arm flinging nervously around Belle, his eyes searching for Dean.
“Got it!” Dean yells after a few seconds, his grin as wide as the park as he brings his phone screen closer to his face--obviously loving what he sees.
And Sam is quick to disentangle himself from Belle, muttering a string of ‘thank yous’ and ‘im so sorrys’ behind him.
“Hey there, Prince Charming…” Dean mutters when Sam is in close range.
Sam gives an annoyed look, but it’s wiped from his face when he feels Dean’s fingers slide through his right hand, giving a small, but reassuring squeeze. Sam is stripped bare of all previous anxiousness and is immediately calmed. And when Dean smiles, Sam knows that the fading sunset behind Dean, could never be as beautiful as his Brother. Knows that the sun will rise and fall every single day, just trying, but that it’d never succeed. Because how could it?
“Look…” Dean flashes the screen of his phone in Sam’s direction. “I think this one's a keeper.”
Sam stares down at the picture and sees him standing there, basically towering over Belle, with a lopsided grin on his face, his half eaten dole whip in his free hand and his little mickey ears still perched atop of his head. And for everything inside of him that should want to punch Dean in the shoulder and yell at him to delete it, he instead gives his Brother an equally blinding smile. Because, yes, Sam has waited his entire life for these moments, but so has Dean. And Sam knows, if he was eight, Dean would have a disposable camera instead and the film would be littered with gag worthy poses of Sam and every character Dean could find.
“I think you’re right.” Sam winks, squeezing Dean’s hand in response.
~
It’s completely dark when Sam spots the little machine with a red curtain and it makes him think about the last time he saw one. Makes his wallet burn in his back pocket, because the proof of that time is still etched into glossy paper and folded carefully inside of it. And it only burns more furiously as they get closer to it.
Dean takes them right toward the deserted photo booth without even realizing it. But when Sam stops and turns to look at it, like he’s a kid looking at an aisle of candy, it’s only then that Dean turns to see what has grabbed Sam’s attention.
“Wha--?” Dean begins, but interrupts himself when he sees the example photos on the outside of the booth. “Oh.”
Sam lets go of Dean’s hand and wrings his fingers at the nape of his neck, because suddenly he feels like he’s fourteen and somehow nervously asking Dean for this again. He can feel his Brother look at him, can feel his Brother’s eyes trail across the anxious twitch at the corner of his lips and he knows Dean can see everything that is coursing within him in that moment. It makes Sam feel naked for the whole world to see; Sam’s whole world consisting of just Dean.
“We don’t--” Sam begs his tongue to work. “We don’t have to.”
“Are you kidding?” Dean whispers back, not giving Sam a second to keep thinking like that. “C’mon, Sammy…”
Dean pulls back the curtain and lets himself into the tiny booth. And Sam is left standing outside, their eyes catching right before the curtain falls closed.
Sam’s heart races, his palms sweaty and he keeps telling himself over and over that it’s not a big deal, but he’s having a hard time convincing himself. Because the way his ribs stretch with every breath, makes him feel like everything he knows is balancing on the tip of a pen. Everything being, him and Dean, and the balance is of their hearts, still clinging to each other and pretending they’re not falling as hard as they appear to be.
“You comin’, Samantha?” Dean’s voice is low, just loud enough for Sam to hear. “Gonna keep a guy waiting forever, or what?”
There’s a laugh in the back of Sam’s throat suddenly and it dispels the thoughts that were tangling themselves on the back of his tongue. Leave it to Dean to know what Sam needs to be pulled out of his mind and back into reality. Sam doesn’t say it, but his heart beats a ‘thank you’ to his Brother and he smiles to make it real.
Sam pulls back the curtain and fits himself in next to Dean. The space is tiny in comparison and between Dean’s broad shoulders and Sam’s long legs, it’s a tight fit. It’s uncomfortable at first, but then Dean Shifts his weight to the right, allowing his left arm to come up and find itself around the back of Sam’s shoulders. It puts them closer together, but it feels more comfortable than before.
“Ready?” Dean raises his eyebrow, their reflections on the black screen in front of them.
Sam gives a small reassuring smile, his dimples digging deep with sincerity. “Been ready all my life, Dean.” It’s a confession and Sam lets it soak the air around them. Lets it dig into their collarbones and make homes in the castles of their hearts.
Dean feeds the machine, his fingers hastily pressing buttons and just like so long ago a countdown appears on the screen. It’s counts down from three and the first picture is snapped, the two of them just smiling cheesily at the screen. When the countdown reappears, Dean shifts his weight away from Sam, his upper body turning to face him. Sam looks straight into the field of green he’s always loved and the flash goes off. The countdown begins again and Dean’s hands come up to both sides of Sam’s cheeks, his thumbs smoothing circles there and the flash goes off. Dean leans into Sam, their lips a whisper apart and it feels like their entire lives is contained within this box, another flash. The last countdown appears and their lips collide together in a melt of raw emotions. Sam lifts his hand and places it at the base of Dean’s neck, letting his fingers curl against the sensitive skin there and the last flash illuminates them.
The flashes have stopped, but their kiss only deepens. Dean is pulling Sam in and down, his fingers aching at the hollow of Sam’s throat, wanting and asking for more. Sam doesn’t deny him, his mouth parting to allow Dean fully in. Every bone in Sam’s body sighs with a resounding ‘yes’ and it verbalizes itself on the back of his tongue.
And when their mouths have been cherished, Sam feels Dean leave his wanting mouth in pursuit of the pulse point at his throat. When Dean licks there, Sam feels his entire soul shift within his skin. Sam’s fingers dig at the back of Dean’s head and Dean latches his lips there, his mouth sucking slightly as his teeth graze Sam’s flesh. It’s too much and not enough all in the same moment.
Dean worries a little mark at Sam’s throat and then kisses his way back up to Sam’s still parted lips, their breaths heavy and their bodies, impossibly hot. They’re treading a similar line that they’ve only had courage to walk a few times prior in their lives. And this time, this time it feels different. Feels like both of them are all hands on the deck, feels like if this ship is going down--then let both of them drown. Let their final breaths, be only of each other’s exhales.
It’s not until there’s a knock on the outside of the booth, that they’re both pulled back to reality. Both of them open their eyes for the first time in minutes and it’s the sun and the sunflower, forever reaching for each other. Their hands are tangled in each other and their fingers already miss the heat of each other’s bodies.
When they pull away from each other, they’re both dazed and a bit starstruck. Both of them temporarily lost in their own minds as they both try to fix themselves to be presentable for whatever or whoever awaits them on the outside of the booth. And when Sam exits first, he’s eye for eye with an angry dad and his little girl. Sam can only offer a ‘sorry’ smile as he moves away from the booth, the feeling of Dean’s shadow behind him.
“Oh, shit--wait!” Dean calls when they’re a good pace of steps away.
Sam turns to see Dean running back for the photo booth. Watches as Dean bends down to retrieve their forgotten photo strip and Sam quietly curses the air around them, because how could they forget? Yet, the burn of his lips, tells him just how.
Dean stares at the pictures the entire way back to where Sam stands and Sam’s insides spin with curiosity. And he doesn’t get to satisfy it until seconds later, when Dean hands it over to him.
Sam looks down at the pictures and feels the wind leave his lungs. Because here they are, after all this time, and he’s got his mickey ears, his Brother’s lips against his and the entirety of Disneyland around them.
The heat of tears prick the back of his eyes, as an unfamiliar emotion crawls up his torso and explodes in his chest. It’s bold and bright and so overwhelming, it has him breathless and holding back a fragile sob. And when he looks back up to meet Dean’s knowing eyes, he finds that the emotion’s name is ‘happiness’--the true and all encompassing kind.
“Here.” Sam whispers, handing the new photo strip back over to Dean. “I’ll let you keep this one.”
Dean stares down at Sam’s hand, his throat working through words he’s trying to say. But the more he tries, the more his tongue escapes him. Maybe there’s no words for this gift, none in any dictionary you could find. None that could wrap up this moment and tie it together so meaningfully. All Dean can do, is pull out his own wallet and place the strip inside, his thumb carding along their glossy faces as he refolds the wallet and sticks it back in his pocket.
Sam catches the shy smile on Dean’s lips and it reads, ‘thank you’. And without missing a beat, Sam reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining their fingers and it says, ‘you’re welcome’.
Seconds later, the night sky is lit up in streaming colors. Both Sam and Dean crane their necks to witness the exploding confetti of light that decorates the sky. And though they’re surrounded by a sea of people, it feels like it’s just the two of them. Feels like they’re eight and twelve, the entire sky lit up just for them. An ocean of reds, blues, purples, and greens roaring against the shores of their eyes.
If you asked either one what they were thinking, they’d both reply just the same.
And it'd sound nothing less than a resounding chorus of, ‘Dreams do come true.’
Part Two | Back to Masterpost