Single's Awareness Day // Ireth Fefalas
Summary: Because even though Sam was seventeen years old, and almost a senior, almost an adult, he had never held hands, or kissed, or been kissed. And it was maddeningly sad.
Warning: Homosexual content.
Rating: Teen for some romantic adult content.
Notes: Written for my Creative Writing class, I really like this piece.

singlesawarenessday

The fourteenth of February fell on Tuesday, and Sam was not looking forward to it.

If there was one day of the year that he hated above all others, it was when the day of Hallmark romance fell on a school-day. If it chanced to be the weekend when Valentine's came around, he was perfectly content to ignore the stirrings of romance – and by the time school came again, it was too late for anyone to be really festive about it. And that was how he liked it.

Because when Valentine's Day fell on a school day – Sam did not look forward to it. There would be cheerfully obnoxious romantic decorations pasted on the school walls, and, inevitably, the school cafeteria served sugar cookies shaped like hearts with pink sprinkles. Sam hated these cookies. Even more so, he hated the people around him, who giggled incessantly about plans for later that night, or the people who gave him cheap dollar-store cards that read "You're really duckie!, Love insert name ." Worst of all, he hated it when people would ask him, "Are you doing anything tonight, Sam?", because than he would have to – would have to – say "No."

Because even though Sam was seventeen years old, and almost a senior, almost an adult, he had never held hands, or kissed, or been kissed. And it was maddeningly sad.

singlesawarenessday

When the fourteenth of February dawned brightly, the freshly fallen snow and ice reflected a thousand shards of light, the roads were closed, and school was canceled.

Sam didn't wake up till it was nearly ten, when his father woke him up to help shovel the driveway, and he could not give himself to care a damn whether or not his face was bitterly cold, or his muscles numb with the freezing temperature. A snow day was a rare gift, and for a snow day to fall on the fourteenth of February was particularly good luck. So Sam smiled easily.

singlesawarenessday

The fifteenth was a Wednesday, and the day after a Valentine's snow day.

Just as Sam had hoped, school was not a brightly cheerful affair. Decorations still hung from the ceilings, and he would bet all the money he had on him that those damned cafeteria cookies would still be given out that day. But the glossy paper hearts and the fluffy baby Cupids did not have the same vigorous gleam they had in previous years: even their colors seemed duller.

The people around him were not so enthusiastic either. A stubborn few still gave out Valentine cards proclaiming love, and Sam had even received chocolates from a particularly festive friend. For the most part, though, people kept to a quiet school day routine. Cries of happy valentines had shrunk to a miniscule number, and next to nobody asked what he had done last night, or maybe what he had planned that weekend. It was bliss.

And then first period hit, and out went the real roses and Valentine balloons, the bunches of candy flowers, the little scrolls of sonnets and profusions of love. The school clubs were as timely as ever.

singlesawarenessday

Sam had begun to really relax in the wake of post-Valentine's day when a bright-eyed upper-classman interrupted the lecture on the symbolism of Jane Eyre. There was a rose boxed in plastic cradled in his arm. "Lindsay Hannigan here?" he asked.

"Oh!" Lindsay sat up in her seat. She'd been filing her fingernails two seconds ago, Sam knew, but mentioning her name with a rose in your arm was guaranteed to catch her flighty attention.

"That's me! Thanks!" she said excitedly. She flounced out of her seat, nearly skipping to the doorway to snatch the rose from the upper-classman.

"No problem," he laughed, and went on his way – probably to fetch more roses to deliver, Sam knew. He exhaled irritably.

singlesawarenessday

Class was interrupted several more times. A sonnet was delivered to Tara Levaner, a rose and balloon to Candice Adams and April Patil, a small bouquet of candy flowers to Audrey Tanner, and a single rose to Jessica Mareath. Each time, Sam slouched further down in his seat, his eyebrows creased in annoyance. He sighed quite a bit too.

Jessica was smiling beatifically at her rose as if it held the answer to world peace. It made Sam sick.

Just when she sat down – just – there were footsteps at the door again, and, again, there was another deliverer, ready to say the word and strike Sam down a further spiral of teenaged aggravation. There was a large bouquet of candy flowers cradled in the nook of her arm. The netting glimmered faintly in the classroom lighting, and the plastic wrappers around the bud of each individual tulip and lily crinkled. Gloomily, Sam sat forward, hand under his chin. Would the flow of Valentine favors ever end?

"Is Sam Winchester here?" Alyssa, the deliverer, asked.

His hand slipped and his chin almost banged his desk. "Pardon?" he managed to ask.

"Are you Sam?" She sounded as startled as him, as if she had expected to meet a girl's delicate cheekbones rather than a broad forehead and strong nose.

Sam bristled at her doubt to his gender before he remembered the exact circumstances. He grimaced. "Yes, I'm Sam."

There was an awkward silence where Alyssa hovered at the doorway and Sam hovered at his seat. He grimaced again, and stood, striding to the doorway. She gave him the candies. "Happy Valentine's," she said. She did not look at him as she stepped outside, and Sam did not say a word as he stepped back to his desk, cradling the sweet candies.

singlesawarenessday

"You didn't send it to me?" he quizzed her. "You're sure? You don't know who else might've done it? It might've been Kate, it probably was."

Alex sighed. "For God's sake, Sam, no, I didn't send you the damned flowers." She turned to face him, ignoring the stream of people passing them by. "Does it really bother you that much?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Well…" he hesitated. "It's just… No, never mind, it just bothers me." He held up his hands. "Honest, I swear," he told her.

She sighed. She didn't believe him, he could tell, not by a long-shot, but she let it pass anyway.

Besides, how could he tell her that no one had ever given him such a show of affection like he had received only half an hour ago? That he had never felt romance in his life, and couldn't understand why someone would do it, let alone who it was?

He stared at her as they walked down to the language wing. There was a crease of worry or stress on her forehead, but her eyes were bright and a smile hovered on her lips – she was happy with her boyfriend, had never fit with anyone quite like she did with Dominick. She would have no clue what he was talking about if he told her.

Sam pushed back the small bitter voice in his heart and focused on her words.

"Besides, I don't think Katie would've sent you candies – she and Ben got together last week."

singlesawarenessday

The morning passed in a blur. Sam's classmates continuously annoyed him, tittering at his colorful bouquet and cracking jokes on finally getting a girl. By the fifth "When's the wedding?" joke, a permanent scowl was etched on his face. Even his teachers were congratulating him on the candies. He did his best to ignore the words flying around him, and managed to neglect all his school work by alternately trying to ignore the presence of the candies and wondering who could have sent them. When lunch finally came, Sam was ready to throw the candies out and forget everything that had happened since eight' o'clock that morning.

The sight of Alex and Dominick together didn't help his mood either. And Katie and Ben had hooked up as well, not to mention that Young had finally gotten the balls to flirt with Victoria. Had everyone gotten together over the snow day and purposefully set up a scheme to make him feel like total crap? Sam wouldn't put it past them.

Moodily, he stabbed his heart-shaped sugar cookie. Crumbs and pink sprinkles fluttered in the air. He wasn't very hungry. He sighed and tapped his foot. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alex laughing at a joke. She was out of breath, clutching her sides. As her laughter faded, she sighed happily, leaning on Dominick. He smiled down at her as if she was all that existed, and when she smiled back, her face glowed with love for him.

Sam abruptly turned his face away. There was a twinge in his heart – probably something to do with the food served at school. He pushed his tray away from him; the scent of the cheeseburger was making him sick.

Something white caught his eye. One of the flower-candies peeped out from under his bag, shaped like an Easter Lily. The plastic wrapper winked in the artificial light of the cafeteria. He stared at it intently, memorizing the curled petals.

The ache in his heart softened, and he pulled the bouquet of candies out from under his bag, careful not to break a single bud.

singlesawarenessday

The two-forty bell rang shrilly, and like opened flood-gates, students poured out into hallways, crowding and pushing to take a breath of fresh air.

Sam walked quickly through the crowded hallways, his bag slung over his shoulder and the flower candies hanging delicately from his hand. Several people bumped into him on his way through the main lobby, and then finally he was out. The sky was an incredible pale blue, wisps of clouds hiding the sun's glare from the snowy landscape.

He sighed deeply. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders. Under fresh air, the flowers did not seem as humiliating as they had when he had first received them. In fact, he thought, they seemed even reassuring. To know that someone cared about him – it was achingly sweet.

He was walking through the crowd of chatting students, searching for his car in the parking lot, when someone stopped him.

"Hi Sam," he said.

Startled, he stopped walking. His eyes flickered up and down. The scruffy brown hair, the strong nose, the dark eyes: this was someone he knew, or had seen before. He stared harder, seeing the beaten-up leather jacket and the calloused hands. It was Dean, Dean something.

"Hi Dean," Sam said. He gave him a friendly lopsided smile, one that he knew brought out his dimple.

Dean smiled back at him. He had no dimple, but the smile that stretched his lips and lifted his cheeks was somehow brighter, more hopeful, than Sam's. It left him feeling oddly breathless and unsure why.

He opened his mouth to speak, and changed his mind. Dean was staring at him, hesitance written on his brow. Teenaged bravery, or foolishness, won. "Do you like them?" Dean asked him. He nodded his head at the flowers clutched in Sam's hand.

Sam stared at him. The crowd of people had diminished dramatically, and the buses were already leaving the school parking lot. They were standing alone.

"I – …" Sam did not know what to say. "Did you send them?"

Dean smiled. He was all honeyed confidence now, only a flicker in his eyes betraying a hesitance and fear. "Yes, I did. The rose was a little cliché."

Sam laughed. The world had tilted on its axis and Dean – a guy! – had just made a move on him, but strangely, he was not repulsed. There was an odd shaky breathlessness in his lungs and his knees felt weak. "I suppose so."

He was staring at him intently, too intently, and Sam could feel his face begin to turn red. Dean was still smiling, a hint of something hovering on the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were dark. He murmured something the wind snatched and blew away – it sounded suspiciously like "What the hell?" – and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's.

It was soft and over too soon before Sam could think. All he could feel was the ghost of an impression of lips against his, and the lingering smell of burning firewood and musk.

Dean was still and silent, restrained movement in his limbs, eyes intense with a hint of fear.

Sam leaned down and kissed him back. He felt Dean's breath hitch in surprise, and the sudden strong pressure of Dean's lips on his. The bouquet of candy flowers dropped from his hands and his bag tumbled to the ground as he lifted his hands to hold Dean's face. And Dean was touching him back, a firm grip on his hips, and they stayed that way until they had to part for breath.

Dean laughed, his breath condensing in the cold air. "I guess you liked them."

Sam smiled so his dimples showed. "I guess," he murmured.