Birthday Blunder
“Dean…what’s that smell?” Sam’s nose scrunched as his hands remained hovering in front of him, his feet carefully trudging over the uneven ground. Dean’s hands remained on Sam’s shoulders, leading him forward without an answer. This made Sam frown under his blindfold.
A fallen branch caught the toe of Sam’s shoe and he stumbled, then thankful for the strong grasp on his shoulders. “Just a branch. A little further.”
Sam sighed and stepped forward again slowly, blindly waving his hands in attempt to make up for the cloth tied around his eyes. The hands slid from his shoulders and trailed along one arm and down until his flailing hands were held tightly in Dean’s rough grasp. “Dean… You’re getting cre-what are you doing…?”
The steady pull that Dean had changed to had suddenly started shaking and waving and pulling at his hands at random moments until Dean suddenly pulled at him and Sam found himself falling directly on top of him with a cry of surprise. With a groan from underneath him, he rolled to the side, raising his hand to pull the blindfold away.
“Don’t!” Dean yelled, sounding slightly panicked, and a split second later there was a hand grabbing Sam’s wrists and pulling them away from the vicinity of the blindfold.
Pulling his hands free, Sam crossed his arms and sat, frowning again, listening to shuffling and Dean’s undecipherable mutterings. After a minute, the blindfold suddenly fell away and despite the dark night air Sam blinked to get used to the images before him. “A graveyard? You brought me to a graveyard…?” Standing, he turned to look at Dean who immediately made him turn back around before he even saw Dean. He was about to complain when something caught his eye; a flicker of movement. Immediately reaching for a weapon on instinct, he turned to face the intruder.
Dean laughed as Sam steadied his gun on the source of alarm. “I didn’t know candles were your big bad Sammy.”
Blinking, Sam lowered his arm and saw that it was indeed a candle. One large candle with its flame flitting in the wind that danced between the gravestones. A candle that sat in…dirt? “Gee, thanks Dean. I think I’m a little old to fall for eating mud pies though.” Sam raised an eyebrow and turned to face his brother, who was standing awkwardly with his arms stiff at his sides. “Dean?” He took a few steps forward to figure out what was wrong.
“I’m fine!” Dean took a stiff step backwards.
Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and spun him around, promptly bursting out laughing. “And here I thought you just ate my birthday cake!”
Dean frowned at his attempt to hide the embarrassment. “The roots tripped me,” Dean muttered as he tried to brush off the bright green and blue frosting swirled with white cake that was now crushed in a perfect circle on his ass.
Sam laughed. “Tasty."