rivers_bend

Title: Gods of Rock
Words: ~1,000
Rating: PG (mild language)
Genre: Weechesters (Gen)
A/N: For flawedamythyst, who prompted me with Spring, Hope, and Rock Music.
Summary: All the gods of rock music are playing in Central Park, and Sam wants to go more than anything.



They aren't going. Sam knows they aren't going, because he never gets to do anything he really wants to do, especially not on his birthday, so it would totally go against all the laws of the universe if they went. And dad would kill them. Shotgun to the head kind of kill them, not the grounded for a week kind.

Not that you can really ground your kids when you're not there half the time to enforce it—and when half the time you are there, you're dragging them from one end of the country to the other in the back of your car. But Sam's pretty sure that's not the point. The point is that he's not going to be going to see the Gods of Rock Reunion in Central Park on his birthday, even though he and Dean are stuck in New Jersey waiting for Dad and they're just a short train ride away.

And maybe a subway. Sam's not really sure how it works, since the one and only time he's been to New York City they drove, and Dad made him stay in the car while he and Dean went into some shithole building that looked like it should have been condemned a decade before.

Dean sneaks up and makes Sam jump, saying, "What are you muttering about, squirt?"

"Nothing," Sam says, but his eyes flick to the handbill advertising the concert—the one that someone had shoved through the vents of his locker. It fell into his physics text book and now it's sitting on the kitchen table, next to his notebook, right where he'd dropped it after deciding there was no way in hell Dean would agree to take him. Not after Dad expressly forbade them to cross the river. Not even when the lineup is pretty much Dean's concert wet dream. Assuming Dean has wet dreams about concerts. Which is absolutely none of Sam's business.

Dean apparently saw Sam's eyes move, because he steps further into the room and makes a grab for the handbill. It's printed on slick, heavy paper, and it sticks to the table at first. With friction. Or maybe air pressure. Sam's not totally sure, which is why he's supposed to be reading his physics book instead of daydreaming about going to a concert he's never going to see.

Finally getting a finger under the edge, Dean lifts the flyer up so he can read the small print. "Holy shit, Sam, check out these bands!"

"It's in Central Park," Sam points out.

"And, dude, on your birthday!"

"Central Park is in New York." Sam's pretty sure Dean knows this, but it's possible Sam underestimated the lure of the rock gods, and maybe Dean needs a reminder.

"Dad's not even meeting his guy until the sixth," Dean says, eyes scanning the lineup list for what must be the tenth time. It's not that long.

"Yeah…" Sam says, because he knows that.

"And the concert's the second," Dean continues.

It sounds almost like Dean's saying they can go. But Sam doesn't want to get his hopes up. Unless— "Dean, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"It says right here, five dollars off if you get your ticket through the school, right? So it's like practically a school activity."

Sam's not sure that's logic John Winchester will buy. He's not really one for school activities even when they don't go against his express orders. "Yeah," Sam says, sounding very skeptical, "but—"

"Are you saying you don't want to go?"

"Are you teasing me, Dean? Because that's really an asshole move if you're teasing me."

"I would not tease about something as important as your fifteenth birthday."

Sam snorts. "Fifteen's not that big a deal." It's not like you can do anything at fifteen that you can't do at fourteen, except maybe have sex in some of the southern states, but if Dean's any example, it's not like age of consent is really holding people back no matter where they live. Sam's pretty sure no one is going to suddenly want to do things with Sam just because he's another year older.

Dean gives him the what's-your-problem? look "Sammy. Gods of Rock in Central Park. When are we going to have this opportunity again?"

"Never?"

"Exactly. Never." Dean grins. Actually grins, which is not an expression Sam has seen in years. Dean's more about the sardonic smile recently, or maybe a flirty one if he wants extra ice cream with his pie. But a real grin? Not so much. That's almost as good a present as the promise of concert tickets.

"Guess I better get us some money if you're going to get tickets at school tomorrow," Dean says.

Sam wants to ask if he can go too, wherever it is that Dean's been going to get the fat rolls of cash once or twice a week since they got into town, but he doesn't want to push his luck. Probably one of the seedy-looking bars downtown, and while nineteen-year-old Dean can pass easily for twenty-one, waiting-for-his-growth-spurt Sam doesn't have a chance, so he just says, "Okay, I'll finish my homework."

"Cool. There's bologna in the fridge if you want a snack, but I'll bring some pizza home later for dinner." He's putting on his coat, patting the pocket for his keys.

"I—" Sam's not sure exactly what to say. "Thanks, Dean." He hates that his voice breaks a little on the words.

"It'll be awesome," Dean answers and ruffles Sam's hair. "Dad never has to know."

Dean grins again, and Sam grins back, there's a warm spring breeze coming in through the open back door, and just for a minute, Sam thinks New Jersey is probably the best place they've ever been stuck. Fifteen is going to be a great birthday.