for smilla
Jul. 17th, 2007 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfFor the lovely smilla02, on the happy occasion of the anniversary of her birth. Sweetling, this doesn’t exactly follow your prompt. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
smilla02, on the happy occasion of the anniversary of her birth. Sweetling, this doesn’t exactly follow your prompt. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Dean loves strawberries. Dad doesn’t—one time when he was doped up on pain meds, he told Sam they reminded him of Mary. Sam doesn’t like ‘em much, either—they taste disgusting.
But Dean loves them. A lot. Like, he’d eat strawberries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if he could.
Unfortunately, they spend a lot of time in places where strawberries are hard to find in-season, much less out.
As Dean’s sixteenth birthday is approaching, Dad’s driving them down to Louisiana for a hunt. He promises they’ll be there for a long while, possibly more than a year—Sam has his doubts, but he doesn’t voice them, content to let peace reign for a little longer.
Dad lets Dean drive some of the way; Sam spends most of his time reading, flipping between a mythology book and Shane. The slim novel was a gift from Dean the year before, and Sam’s read it front to back half a dozen times.
Dad says he’s already paid for an apartment in Baton Rouge, even though the hunt’s down in New Orleans. And he’s already got them enrolled in school, which Sam’s happy about, though Dean looks bothered by it.
Which Sam doesn’t understand. Dean’s smart, smart enough to ace his classes with ease, but he never applies himself. He likes math and numbers—way more than Sam—but flounders in English and social studies, which seems completely stupid to Sam, because his brother helps him with those subjects whenever he runs into trouble.
Sam’s bugged him about it a lot, but Dean always shrugs him off, citing the teachers as the problem. And so long as Dean’s not flunking, Dad doesn’t seem to care.
Which is another thing beyond Sam’s grasp. If he were the father, he’d want his kids doing their best at everything. But Dad just wants soldiers, and Dean excels at that.
Sam sighs and Dean glances over his shoulder, taking his eyes off the road. Dad’s slouched shotgun, mostly asleep, but Dean knows the way. He’s good with maps, way better than Sam.
“Somethin’ the matter, Sammy?” he asks, turning back to the road.
Sam shakes his head, not even bothering to fuss at Dean for the nickname.
First days of school are always awkward for Sam. He knows that Dean picks a different face for every one, but Sam doesn’t want to change. He’s constantly the odd kid out, new and uncomfortable. Dean blends in without trouble, no matter the mask he’s chosen to wear.
There’s a week to Dean’s sixteenth birthday and Sam’s already gotten him two presents: a beautiful dagger and a dozen Louis L’Amour books. Dad bought him a silver Colt and told Sam he’d be giving Dean the Impala.
Sam’d gaped at him. “You’re giving him a car?” And not just any car, but The Car. Dad’s Impala. It’s like his third kid, or something.
“He’s earned her,” Dad said, and Sam could only agree.
January twenty-fourth dawns with a cold rainfall and a bitter wind. Sam wants to burrow into the covers, but his prize is hiding in the back of the fridge. Dean’s in the bed across the room, neither awake nor asleep, tense with some dream/nightmare. Sam watches him for a minute, listening to the rain, before slipping out from beneath the comforter and padding to the kitchen.
Dad’s at the kitchen table, writing in his dia—journal. He nods as Sam enters then goes right back to his scribblings.
Whenever the three of them—or just Dean and Sam—sit down for breakfast, it’s always to food that Sam and Dad like. So this morning, for Dean’s sixteenth birthday? Sam’s determined to make food that Dean prefers.
By the time Dean wearily walks into the kitchen, there’s toast waiting to be buttered, eggs settling in the pan, strawberries sitting forlornly in their bowl, and milk spilled on the counter. Dad’s trying to fix the toaster, which chose this morning to conk out, and Sam’s flipping the bacon in the pan.
Dean takes this all in with a single glance and grins, his whole face lighting up, which makes everything worth it.
He pushes Sam into a chair, and then Dad next to him, quickly whirling around the kitchen. Sam wants to protest, tell Dean he was handling it, that it was meant to be a gift… but Dean just looks so happy. Sam doesn’t quite get it, but Dean enjoys taking care of other people, always putting himself last—
Sometimes, Sam gets really mad at their father for that. And sometimes he wonders why he and Dean are so different.
While Dean putters around, finishing his own birthday breakfast, Sam hurries to the back-closet, grabbing Dean’s presents. He sets them on the counter while Dad and Dean fill their plates.
They eat together, first time in a few weeks, and they actually share jokes, actually laugh. Sam and Dad avoid subjects that could possibly lead to a confrontation, because this isn’t about them. This is for Dean, and he’s earned it. He deserves a happy family.
Sam clears the table and then puts his presents in front of Dean; Dad sets his package to the side.
Dean looks at the three gifts then Sam and Dad, a soft smile on his face. “You didn’t have to,” he says.
Dad and Sam meet eyes. “We know,” Dad tells him. “We wanted to, son.”
After Dean realizes the car is his—it’s the first thing Dad does, hand Dean the keys with a smile—he rushes from the apartment and practically makes out with the Impala. Sam and Dad follow him more sedately and stand side-by-side, watching him.
“I think he likes it,” Sam says.
Dad chuckles. “I think you’re right.”
Dean opens the rest of his presents with childlike glee, and it almost hurts Sam—he so rarely sees that side of his brother. He holds the gun in awe and grips the knife with wonder, and carefully flips through the books.
“Dude,” he says, looking up at Dad and Sam. “Thank you.”
Sam smiles and walks to the fridge, getting out the strawberries. While Dean and Dad discuss guns, Sam slices up a handful, adds some sugar, and slides the bowl in front of Dean, handing off a fork, too. Dean smiles up at him. “Thanks, Sammy,” he says, stabbing a slice.
With a responding grin, Sam plops into the chair next to him. Dad smiles down at them from across the table; he meets Sam’s gaze. Sam reads in his eyes, Good work, son and joy rolls through him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-16 11:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 12:49 am (UTC)It is so wonderful to see that I am not the only person who believes that Dean cooks any chance he gets (and omg, how is it that you, who are always uber-organized with the tagging, do not have a "dean cooks" tag?).
Also, Dean + Strawberries = LOVE
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:39 pm (UTC)I love strawberries. They're pretty much the only healthy food I like(though, I don't mind peas, and I somewhat enjoy mushrooms if they have enough sauce to get rid of the mushroom taste). And I love Dean. So... *shrugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 12:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:40 pm (UTC)(You still wanna go to that place, don't you? *pouts*)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 01:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:45 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 01:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:47 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 06:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-17 03:51 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!
Date: 2007-07-17 02:02 pm (UTC)The interaction between them all is so wonderful, sweet and absolutely spot-on.
I don't know which part to pick as favorite, it may be the fact that Dean loves strawberries ('cause , dude *I* love them :D) or Sam making breackfast for Dean, or the breakfast itself, with John there proud and silent and giving the Impala without a lot of fuss about it, so simple, yet so poignant.
Dean so would read Louis L'Amour stories, hee!
This line, though,speaks the truth:
He knows that Dean picks a different face for every one, but Sam doesn’t want to change
Thanks babe for the wonderful present!
♥
Re: Thank you so much!
Date: 2007-07-17 03:53 pm (UTC)I love strawberries. And I love Dean. *glee*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-19 04:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-19 12:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-19 06:43 pm (UTC)I have to admit that I was surprised by this.
It's weirdly, comfortably...casual. Domestic, even. Without a whiff of hurt!Dean (unless one counts the ever-present promise of tension between John and Sam which may very well be only in my head).
But then, this was a challenge-fic.
I want to hug 'em all. Even more than usually.
And strawberries are love. Dummy Sammy for thinking they taste foul. But Love!Sam for getting them for Dean, out of season nonetheless!
I still can't get over the domesticity of this. Too much angst lately, apparently.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-19 07:55 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-20 02:05 pm (UTC)Favorite lines:
Whenever the three of them—or just Dean and Sam—sit down for breakfast, it’s always to food that Sam and Dad like. So this morning, for Dean’s sixteenth birthday? Sam’s determined to make food that Dean prefers.
Aww. *pets Sam*
After Dean realizes the car is his—it’s the first thing Dad does, hand Dean the keys with a smile—he rushes from the apartment and practically makes out with the Impala.
LOL!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-20 02:22 pm (UTC)