Sat in a circle, legs crossed and knocked between the other kids’ knees, Dean grins. He’s not a brother, not a Winchester. Sam hadn’t thought, but the kids had watched him in awe as he had brought beer from his car. It was safe, he had told himself. They were in a house, no strangers, no one to drug or take advantage. Plus, Sam had liked the school for once. Dean wasn’t going to ruin it for him.
"Jamie, you next!"
The bottle spins and it lands on a redhead washed with freckles. Shy, she waits until Jamie crawls into the centre and puckers. Dean smirks. He watches the kiss and whoops, enough to make them blush.
He relaxes, downs another half bottle himself and lets the game roll. More names and faces that he can’t place, kisses between boys and girls, girls, boys alone, and he laughs harder with every scrunched, unsure kiss.
Another spin. A dark-haired boy lands on Dean and he moves with ease, a quick peck to lips. Dean’s turn and he twists the bottle around.
There’s no reason not to kiss. He clears his throat and watches Sam’s pale. He lifted an eyebrow, spectators expectant, and Sam finally moves.
Dean catches him in the centre. Another peck, nothing that sticks, and it’s Sam’s turn to spin.
They’ve kissed once, so the second won’t matter. One crawl and they meet in the middle.
A girl laughs. “You have to do it longer!”
Dean knows the rules. Head tipped for a better angle, they kiss a second time. It’s slower and Dean swallows halfway through. They pull apart. Dean’s turn.
"Are you kiddin’ me?"
A boy smirks. “You’ve got to do it with tongue now!”
It’s too far. Too much. Back in the centre of that ring, they hesitate. One step further. Lip finds lip and they take another kiss. Dean cups the side of Sam’s face, a warning before he draws his tongue over Sam’s lip.
Open, Dean takes his time, careful not to rush. Sam grabs his shirt. There are voices, irritation, but Dean can’t move. Sam’s eyes are closed, his hold strong.
When it breaks, Sam is flushed. That red is shared between them.
"God," Sam whispers. "Dean."