Holiday commentfic
MASTERPOST:
READ ALL THE FICTION
FILLS:
Sam/Dean have amnesia and the rest is wincestory. for mdlaw
Becky helps Sam and Dean, and in return demands that Sam has to play her bf. Dean doesn't like it. at all. for cristo-nara
♥ a little expansion on the last scene of A Very Supernatural Christmas for lavishsqualor
Death crashes the Singer-Winchester Christmas party. for peachpai
( Read more... )
READ ALL THE FICTION
FILLS:
Sam/Dean have amnesia and the rest is wincestory. for mdlaw
Becky helps Sam and Dean, and in return demands that Sam has to play her bf. Dean doesn't like it. at all. for cristo-nara
♥ a little expansion on the last scene of A Very Supernatural Christmas for lavishsqualor
Death crashes the Singer-Winchester Christmas party. for peachpai
( Read more... )
Dean idly took Sam's hand where it was lying on the counter, rubbing his thumb over the seam of where he'd stitched him up, saying, “This thing's never going to heal.”
A waitress came up in front of them and Sam drew back in his seat. Meanwhile, Dean dropped his hand and sent her a hint of a leer. “Morning, sugar.”
She looked confused for a second, but then pulled out a pen. “What'll it be?”
“Grand Slam Special." Dean then looked at Sam. “Same?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
"And an extra side of bacon," Dean said. "He's a growing boy."
She gave Sam a knowing look and then snapped her notebook closed. "Food'll be right up," she said with straight white teeth and an I-accept-you smile.
There was a beat. And then Crowley said, "Oh, that's excellent. Really and truly-"
“Jesus,” Dean said, grabbing his coffee before it knocked off the counter.
Sam grit out, "Crowley, what are you doing here?"
"Crashing your little date, apparently."
Dean made an outraged noise.
Crowley studied Dean. "Right...well, I've seen worse. No judgment here."
“You know, that's almost so sweet it's nauseating," Dean said.
Crowley buffed his nails on his shoulder. "This place is nauseating. It's all...yellow. Cheerful."
Sam sipped his coffee. “Crowley, spit it out.”
“All right. Let me put it plainly: I hate Dick."
"Oh really?" Dean said. "I love Dick. I had a run-in with Dick last week in a limo, and it was great. Time of my life."
"Look, you-"
"Ahem."
They all jolt, guiltily. The waitress is back, frowning.
“No, ma'am," Sam says. "He doesn't mean it that way.”
She puts their plates down with a smile for Sam and a judgey one for Dean and Crowley, who looks taken aback. Dean pulls Sam in with an arm around his shoulder and smiles right back at her. She frowns harder Crowley's way.
"Fix it," Crowley bites out to the both of them, and then he walks out the diner.
"You shouldn't have to deal with that sort of treatment," the waitress tells them, before she moves away to serve other customers.
Sam sits fake-casual, waiting until Dean takes his arm away. He relaxes but then Dean finds his hand again under the table.
"Awkward to sit like that," Dean mutters. He takes a bite of toast.
Sam thinks, this is real, with Dean's thumb pressed lightly against his palm and their knees touching. He starts in on his omlette.
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The desk clerk was wonderful, because he'd already been told they were family, but one Dean entrance and it's back to his original theory. Sam, you tease.
"Your parents know about this?" "Yes ma'am." Don't you want to find out what kind of trouble we got into before they let us rent a room?
Pure glee, and the sweetness of their accepted need for each other like icing.
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That sounds delicious.
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*__*
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