Sam sits on the concrete stoop of the latest shit motel they've camped out in, thin shirt clinging to his back in the heat. His lips are curved in a half-smile as he watches Dean crouch about fifteen feet away in the almost deserted parking lot, a sea of cracked asphalt and faded yellow lines.

He watches as Dean's Zippo flickers to life, illuminating the sheer glee on Dean's face at this simple act. He finds himself smiling back and lets out a laugh when Dean lights the first fuse and immediately falls backwards on his ass as sparks the colors of the flag come shooting out in arcs and spraying across the ground. Dean scrambles to his feet and lets out a whoop, throwing his arms above his head.

He turns back to Sam and is beaming, enjoyment and freedom written on every inch of his skin. Sam waves and smiles, watches as Dean turns and starts to light the remaining fuses.

He sits back to watch the show, elbows resting on the cool step behind him and smiles. Dean comes to join him after a few minutes and they sit side by side in the damp evening, whistles and pops coming from the impressive display Dean had managed to produce.

After a few moments, Dean bumps Sam's elbow with his and Sam turns to look, his eyes watering a little from all the hazy smoke gathering. Dean grins and then leans over, presses a quick, hard kiss to Sam's lips, his hand cupping Sam's jaw. He tastes like cheap beer and mustard and summer. Sam smiles into the kiss, feeling himself light up inside as Dean pulls away to watch the remaining pyrotechnic spectacle.