>"Yeah right. Betcha the first one goes off and you start squealing."
Sam shakes his head firmly and takes the shoe from Dean, watching while his brother drops down and tightens the laces Sam just tied. Someday, he'll get it right - but he doesn't mind Dean's help, until then. "Bet I won't," he says, "I didn't when you set 'em off in the parking lot, before." He doesn't know where Dean got them from, doesn't remember if he ever said, he just remembers the firecrackers and Roman candles and the bottle rockets, colored fire and then the motel manager coming out to scold them.
He wiggles away from the poke a little as he's pulling his other sneaker on, expression half a grin and half Dean, stoppit!. Once both shoes are on and tied and Dean-approved, his brother ruffles his hair - which gets another of those sorts of looks, where the disapproval is halfhearted and the smile that breaks through is genuine, and he sets to making sure his hair isn't tousled crazily as he hops to his feet.
Dean's digging through his duffle bag, and Sam shifts foot-to-foot, fidgeting excitedly. Sure, the fireworks don't start until midnight, but they're going somewhere and there'll be fireworks and it'll be a new year soon, it's sort of a big deal. So, yeah, he's excited.
>“Because - there will probably be sparklers, and you'll want one, and if you don't have gloves it'll burn straight through your hand”
"Oh," Sam frowns, considering this (yeah, sparklers are kind of awesome... but if they're so dangerous, shouldn't someone get on fixing that problem so kids don't get hurt?), then he nods, smile returning. "You should bring your gloves, too."