Fic: Somebody's Birthday
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Somebody's Birthday
Author: my_atlantis
Rating: G
Pairing: Gen
Summary: It's somebody's birthday, somewhere.
Spoilers: None, pre-show Winchesters
“Why are we doing this again?” Sam heaved the bag of groceries onto the counter in their apartment, automatically reaching inside and putting things away.
“Because I’m your older brother and I say so.“ Dean followed suit with his own bag, but just tipped it over and let the contents roll out onto the countertop. Sam winced a little at the rattle of things crunching as they slid out of the bag, but didn’t say anything about it.
“That’s not a reason." Sam knelt down in front of a low cabinet, pulling out pots and pans until he had a large bowl and a medium-sized cooking pan. Then he systematically arranged everything back into their proper place.
“But it’s an order, so you’d do well to practice and follow it.” Dean pushed past Sam, pulling open the refrigerator and then gathering a half empty bag of sugar, a stick of butter, and the carton of a half dozen eggs. He set these down alongside the items bought at the grocery store, then pulled a small, crumpled bit of paper from his pocket. He studied the words scribbled on it, then tucked it back into his pocket.
“I’m not doing anything without a reason.” The bowl and pan made a loud clanging sound when Sam banged them down on the counter by Dean’s elbow, glaring up at his brother who was studiously ignoring him this whole time while he washed his hands in the sink. “Dean.”
With some skill that showed that he must of at least done this once before, Dean was whipping through the bow of vanilla wafers, crumbling them between his fingers and then letting the pieces fall into the bowl.
“Dean!”
“What?” Dean added the butter, then dug around in the brown paper bag for a small tin of cocoa and overturned the entire contents into the bowl, stirring a little with a big spoon.
“Well, for one you forgot the sugar.” Sam reached around his brother and snatched the bag, carefully measuring out the correct amount and then adding it too. “And two, why are we doing this again?”
“Because,” Dean frowned as he consulted his scribbled recipe, then shrugged and began to mix the contents of the bowl. “It’s for somebody’s birthday.”
A small smirk crept up on Sam’s face, and an amused light gleamed in his eyes. “Is it… Ashley Miller’s birthday?”
A hot flush of color rose nearly to Dean’s cheekbones, but he recovered and shot his little brother a quick, wide-open grin. “So, what if it is, squirt? A way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach, always.”
“I thought you said a way into a girl’s pants was to buy her pretty things and tell her that her hair is nice.”
“Sam! Who told you that?” Dean glanced over at Sam, taken aback by the brashness in his eleven-year-old brother’s tone.
“You were telling Tony down the street the other day when you were waiting to walk me home from school. I overheard you as I was coming up.” He grinned at the vaguely shocked look on Dean’s face, then laughed bright and loud before taking the bowl out of Dean’s hand and started pressing the thick mixture into the pan, evening out the sides and the bottom with the spoon. He laughed again at the slight shake of his brother’s head, then began mixing together all the ingredients for the filling.
It got a little hectic after that, what with Dean trying to eat all of the raspberry spread, and a small food fight ensuing. Finally they both sank down to the tile floor, backs pressed to the oven, letting the warmth seep through their clothes while the cheesecake was baking.
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you really making this?”
“…What?” Dean looked over at Sam, eyebrows raising up to his hairline.
“Ashley Miller’s birthday was four months ago. You gave her that necklace you lifted from the craft fair that week. So,” Sam stopped, fixing his older brother with a stare, daring him to look away. “Why are you really making this?”
“…I..” An array of emotions crossed Dean’s face, but finally he shut his eyes, shook his head and roughly grabbed his little brother around the shoulders and gave him a rough, one-armed hug. “You, little man, are too smart for your own good, you know that?”
“All my teachers say that, say if I stay this smart I’ll get into college when I’m older no problem.” A prideful little smile stole onto Sam’s face, unmindful of the way his older brother flinched a little at the mention of college. A thing seven or eight years away for his little Sammy, but only three years away for him. That is, if he decided to go. If he was even allowed to go.
“That’s my boy,” Dean’s hand snuck into the messy mop Sam called his hair, ruffling it and chuckling a little when his little brother angrily batted away his hands. The corners of his mouth twitched up, though his eyes were still a little sad, like they regularly were. Sam always knew Dean to grin, laugh, joke around a lot, but his eyes were often a little sad, like that old dog in the apartment just below theirs.
“So why?”
“Hm?”
“Why the cake?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s somebody’s birthday somewhere, I guess it’s for them.” The oven beeped once, harsh and sharp, and Dean heaved himself up to turn down the temperature. He didn’t bother to tell Sam it was their mother’s birthday. And that she had loved chocolate-raspberry cheesecake, or so their Dad said. He didn’t bother to tell Sam that they probably wouldn’t see their Dad for a few days, while he was out trying to think of anything but the fact it was Mary Winchester’s birthday today. Dean didn’t bother to tell Sam he was going to give their cheesecake to Ms. Martin, the home economics teacher in charge of his school’s bake sale, and that she was going to give him extra credit for it. Extra credit so he could raise his grade for a better GPA. So maybe he could still have a chance to go to college when the time came. And if not, then he could just remember the time he made a cake for his dead mother’s birthday when nobody else remembered or wanted to remember.
“Liar. You made it ‘cause Ashley wanted you to, not because it was her birthday.”
Dean grinned and lightly kicked Sam in the shin as he walked out of the kitchen. “Whoops, you caught me. Too smart for me, again.”
Title: Somebody's Birthday
Author: my_atlantis
Rating: G
Pairing: Gen
Summary: It's somebody's birthday, somewhere.
Spoilers: None, pre-show Winchesters
“Why are we doing this again?” Sam heaved the bag of groceries onto the counter in their apartment, automatically reaching inside and putting things away.
“Because I’m your older brother and I say so.“ Dean followed suit with his own bag, but just tipped it over and let the contents roll out onto the countertop. Sam winced a little at the rattle of things crunching as they slid out of the bag, but didn’t say anything about it.
“That’s not a reason." Sam knelt down in front of a low cabinet, pulling out pots and pans until he had a large bowl and a medium-sized cooking pan. Then he systematically arranged everything back into their proper place.
“But it’s an order, so you’d do well to practice and follow it.” Dean pushed past Sam, pulling open the refrigerator and then gathering a half empty bag of sugar, a stick of butter, and the carton of a half dozen eggs. He set these down alongside the items bought at the grocery store, then pulled a small, crumpled bit of paper from his pocket. He studied the words scribbled on it, then tucked it back into his pocket.
“I’m not doing anything without a reason.” The bowl and pan made a loud clanging sound when Sam banged them down on the counter by Dean’s elbow, glaring up at his brother who was studiously ignoring him this whole time while he washed his hands in the sink. “Dean.”
With some skill that showed that he must of at least done this once before, Dean was whipping through the bow of vanilla wafers, crumbling them between his fingers and then letting the pieces fall into the bowl.
“Dean!”
“What?” Dean added the butter, then dug around in the brown paper bag for a small tin of cocoa and overturned the entire contents into the bowl, stirring a little with a big spoon.
“Well, for one you forgot the sugar.” Sam reached around his brother and snatched the bag, carefully measuring out the correct amount and then adding it too. “And two, why are we doing this again?”
“Because,” Dean frowned as he consulted his scribbled recipe, then shrugged and began to mix the contents of the bowl. “It’s for somebody’s birthday.”
A small smirk crept up on Sam’s face, and an amused light gleamed in his eyes. “Is it… Ashley Miller’s birthday?”
A hot flush of color rose nearly to Dean’s cheekbones, but he recovered and shot his little brother a quick, wide-open grin. “So, what if it is, squirt? A way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach, always.”
“I thought you said a way into a girl’s pants was to buy her pretty things and tell her that her hair is nice.”
“Sam! Who told you that?” Dean glanced over at Sam, taken aback by the brashness in his eleven-year-old brother’s tone.
“You were telling Tony down the street the other day when you were waiting to walk me home from school. I overheard you as I was coming up.” He grinned at the vaguely shocked look on Dean’s face, then laughed bright and loud before taking the bowl out of Dean’s hand and started pressing the thick mixture into the pan, evening out the sides and the bottom with the spoon. He laughed again at the slight shake of his brother’s head, then began mixing together all the ingredients for the filling.
It got a little hectic after that, what with Dean trying to eat all of the raspberry spread, and a small food fight ensuing. Finally they both sank down to the tile floor, backs pressed to the oven, letting the warmth seep through their clothes while the cheesecake was baking.
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you really making this?”
“…What?” Dean looked over at Sam, eyebrows raising up to his hairline.
“Ashley Miller’s birthday was four months ago. You gave her that necklace you lifted from the craft fair that week. So,” Sam stopped, fixing his older brother with a stare, daring him to look away. “Why are you really making this?”
“…I..” An array of emotions crossed Dean’s face, but finally he shut his eyes, shook his head and roughly grabbed his little brother around the shoulders and gave him a rough, one-armed hug. “You, little man, are too smart for your own good, you know that?”
“All my teachers say that, say if I stay this smart I’ll get into college when I’m older no problem.” A prideful little smile stole onto Sam’s face, unmindful of the way his older brother flinched a little at the mention of college. A thing seven or eight years away for his little Sammy, but only three years away for him. That is, if he decided to go. If he was even allowed to go.
“That’s my boy,” Dean’s hand snuck into the messy mop Sam called his hair, ruffling it and chuckling a little when his little brother angrily batted away his hands. The corners of his mouth twitched up, though his eyes were still a little sad, like they regularly were. Sam always knew Dean to grin, laugh, joke around a lot, but his eyes were often a little sad, like that old dog in the apartment just below theirs.
“So why?”
“Hm?”
“Why the cake?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s somebody’s birthday somewhere, I guess it’s for them.” The oven beeped once, harsh and sharp, and Dean heaved himself up to turn down the temperature. He didn’t bother to tell Sam it was their mother’s birthday. And that she had loved chocolate-raspberry cheesecake, or so their Dad said. He didn’t bother to tell Sam that they probably wouldn’t see their Dad for a few days, while he was out trying to think of anything but the fact it was Mary Winchester’s birthday today. Dean didn’t bother to tell Sam he was going to give their cheesecake to Ms. Martin, the home economics teacher in charge of his school’s bake sale, and that she was going to give him extra credit for it. Extra credit so he could raise his grade for a better GPA. So maybe he could still have a chance to go to college when the time came. And if not, then he could just remember the time he made a cake for his dead mother’s birthday when nobody else remembered or wanted to remember.
“Liar. You made it ‘cause Ashley wanted you to, not because it was her birthday.”
Dean grinned and lightly kicked Sam in the shin as he walked out of the kitchen. “Whoops, you caught me. Too smart for me, again.”