Happy Birthday, Roque!
No Talking Before Breakfast
Part one- Preseries
It is Dean’s turn to cook breakfast. John sits, sipping coffee, and reading the newspaper when Sam comes out of the bedroom, still zipping his backpack.
“Heya, squirt,” Dean says from the tiny stove in the corner of their little one bedroom place, “How do you want your eggs, fried, or scrambled?”
“Fried,” Sam says, as he dumps the heavy backpack on the floor by the door.
Dean tugs at his ears, “Gotta speak up, kid, I’m not wired for sound yet.”
Sam turns and faces Dean, “FRIED.” He says loudly. Dean nods, and turns back to the stove.
He speaks too loudly, “Sammy, shut it.” John growls from the table. He’d been out late on a hunt last night, and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood. “Sammy, come here, I wanted to talk to you, anyway. I, uh, got a call from your teacher yesterday.” He waits while Sam gets closer, “He says that your science project was really good, that they were sending it on to some District competition, and that they don’t usually send someone in the fifth grade. Is that right?” He took another sip from the chipped coffee cup. When Sam nods, he says, “So, I never heard about this project. Did you work on it here at the apartment?”
“No, I did some of the research here, but I did most of it after school in the classroom. Dean helped too.”
John is quiet for a moment, looking between the two boys, before giving Sam a proud smile, “What was the project?” he asks finally.
Sam beams, “I made a calculator. Dean got me these LED lights, and we took apart some stuff we got from the thrift store, and I wired it so that you could….”
There is a clatter from the stove. Both John and Sam look in surprise as Dean moves the eggs off of the burner, and stomps into the bedroom. He returns moments later, hooking the hearing aid over the back of his ear. He moved the eggs back onto the burner and continues cooking as if there had been no interruption at all, except his shoulders are stiff and tense. Angry.
John and Sam are silent for a moment, then John says, “Sorry, Deano.”
“Sorry, Dean,” Sam echoes.
There isn’t an answer for a moment, but the shoulders relax, and Dean says, “Grab a plate, Sammy. The eggs are done.”
Part 2- Season 1
Sam has learned from long experience to never try to talk to Dean in the mornings. It only makes Dean frustrated and grouchy when conversation happens around him, and he can’t hear it. Sam comes in with coffee. It’s early, but they have a lot of road to cover before they can get to Oregon, and follow up on the coordinates Dad sent. He makes sure the early morning sunlight shines directly on Dean’s bed as he opens the door. It’s enough to make Dean stir and blink up at him groggily.
With a vague smile, Sam holds up the coffee. Dean scowls, and glances at the glowing numbers on the clock. “Sammy? Dude, how long have you been up? Did you sleep at all?” He rubs at his hair which is all matted and messy from sleep.
It’s Sam, he wants to say, but there’s really no point. Dean always asks questions he can’t answer yet, so he just shrugs and put the coffee down on the small table. He’s not going to tell his brother that he’s been up since 4:30, when another nightmare had him waking up in a cold sweat. His shouts didn’t wake Dean up, and he’d rather his brother didn’t know about them. He spent a few hours on the laptop before going out to get the coffee. He is tired, but sleep is the last thing he wants.
With a groan, Dean gets up and shuffles his way over to the coffee. He scrutinizes Sam’s face as he lifts the lid of his cup, checks the contents, then takes a grateful sip. “Right,” he says, “I’ll be ready in half an hour. Your stuff all packed up?” When Sam smiles and nods, he holds up the cup, “I’m taking this with me.” He gives a cheesy grin, and wanders off to the bathroom.
Sam shakes his head, and starts packing up the laptop. When Dean comes out of the bathroom later, dressed and shaved, he’s still adjusting one of the hearing aids, but Sam guesses it’s probably safe to say something. “I did some research on Coos Bay, the town the coordinates lead to. They’ve had three people just fall down dead where they stood, no sign of trauma, no cause of death. In one case, the lady was in the middle of a conversation with someone when she just keeled over. The article thinks it might be some weird disease. They want to call in the CDC. Dean, it’s a case. Dad isn’t there.” He speaks loudly until he sees Dean look up at him, then tempers the volume to something more normal.
Dean turns the volume on the hearing aid, “We don’t know that, Sam. Where else are we supposed to go? I don’t have any other leads on Dad, do you?” When Sam doesn’t answer, he continues, “Right. So we go. End of story. If we save a few people’s lives in the process, hey, bonus, that’s what we do.” He starts putting his things in his duffel bag, zipping things up, and getting ready to go. Sam marvels again at the new hearing aids Dean wears now. All growing up, Dean had these huge things that hung over the back of the ear, and guaranteed that everyone noticed them and teased him about it. These new ones fit inside the ear, and were barely noticeable at all. Dean said they worked better too. The sound was clearer. Okay, so the volume still has to be high on the radio when they drive, and it’s hard to show him any videos on his laptop because the tiny built-in speakers just can’t get loud enough to allow Dean to hear it easily, it’s still a big difference from when they were kids.
Mornings are still the same, though- no talking until the hearing aids are in. It surprises Sam to find he’s falling into the old routines so easily. They finish packing, but as Sam goes to take his bags out to the car, Dean stops him.
“When are we going to talk about this?” he asks.
Sam feigns confusion, “Talk about what?”
Dean sighs with frustration, “I’m not stupid, Sam, and I’m not deaf either. You’re not sleeping, and when you do finally drop off, you wake up screaming. You’re hoping that without the hearing aids I can’t hear you. Well, surprise, Sam, you’d wake the dead with your yells. I’ve been trying to let things slide, and give you your space, but this is starting to be a problem.”
Sam blinks with surprise and guilt, then quickly ducks his head. He didn’t think he was waking Dean up. He thought Dean didn’t know... “I’m sorry.” Sam says quietly.
“What?” Dean asks, tilting his head to try to hear him better, “You’re sorry? Are you kidding me? Sammy this isn’t anything to be sorry about. Dude, I know what you’ve been through. Just…talk to me! You just lost Jess, man, I know that, but you can’t keep going like this.”
Talk to him. Sam’s mouth twitches in amusement as he thinks of the morning filled with shrugs and gestures, but he knows that Dean is serious. He sighs, and runs a hand through his long bangs. It’s too early and he’s too tired to talk about this right now. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know how to… I just…I can’t talk about this right now. I just can’t, Dean. I’m sorry.”
It’s not a good enough answer. Dean growls with frustration, and shakes his head. “Whatever. We need to get going. I’m starving. Why didn’t you get breakfast with the coffee?” He looks at Sam again, “We still need to talk about this. This isn’t over.” He shoulders his bag, and leaves the room. Sam follows more slowly.
He’s starting to get the feeling it will never be over.
Part one- Preseries
It is Dean’s turn to cook breakfast. John sits, sipping coffee, and reading the newspaper when Sam comes out of the bedroom, still zipping his backpack.
“Heya, squirt,” Dean says from the tiny stove in the corner of their little one bedroom place, “How do you want your eggs, fried, or scrambled?”
“Fried,” Sam says, as he dumps the heavy backpack on the floor by the door.
Dean tugs at his ears, “Gotta speak up, kid, I’m not wired for sound yet.”
Sam turns and faces Dean, “FRIED.” He says loudly. Dean nods, and turns back to the stove.
He speaks too loudly, “Sammy, shut it.” John growls from the table. He’d been out late on a hunt last night, and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood. “Sammy, come here, I wanted to talk to you, anyway. I, uh, got a call from your teacher yesterday.” He waits while Sam gets closer, “He says that your science project was really good, that they were sending it on to some District competition, and that they don’t usually send someone in the fifth grade. Is that right?” He took another sip from the chipped coffee cup. When Sam nods, he says, “So, I never heard about this project. Did you work on it here at the apartment?”
“No, I did some of the research here, but I did most of it after school in the classroom. Dean helped too.”
John is quiet for a moment, looking between the two boys, before giving Sam a proud smile, “What was the project?” he asks finally.
Sam beams, “I made a calculator. Dean got me these LED lights, and we took apart some stuff we got from the thrift store, and I wired it so that you could….”
There is a clatter from the stove. Both John and Sam look in surprise as Dean moves the eggs off of the burner, and stomps into the bedroom. He returns moments later, hooking the hearing aid over the back of his ear. He moved the eggs back onto the burner and continues cooking as if there had been no interruption at all, except his shoulders are stiff and tense. Angry.
John and Sam are silent for a moment, then John says, “Sorry, Deano.”
“Sorry, Dean,” Sam echoes.
There isn’t an answer for a moment, but the shoulders relax, and Dean says, “Grab a plate, Sammy. The eggs are done.”
Part 2- Season 1
Sam has learned from long experience to never try to talk to Dean in the mornings. It only makes Dean frustrated and grouchy when conversation happens around him, and he can’t hear it. Sam comes in with coffee. It’s early, but they have a lot of road to cover before they can get to Oregon, and follow up on the coordinates Dad sent. He makes sure the early morning sunlight shines directly on Dean’s bed as he opens the door. It’s enough to make Dean stir and blink up at him groggily.
With a vague smile, Sam holds up the coffee. Dean scowls, and glances at the glowing numbers on the clock. “Sammy? Dude, how long have you been up? Did you sleep at all?” He rubs at his hair which is all matted and messy from sleep.
It’s Sam, he wants to say, but there’s really no point. Dean always asks questions he can’t answer yet, so he just shrugs and put the coffee down on the small table. He’s not going to tell his brother that he’s been up since 4:30, when another nightmare had him waking up in a cold sweat. His shouts didn’t wake Dean up, and he’d rather his brother didn’t know about them. He spent a few hours on the laptop before going out to get the coffee. He is tired, but sleep is the last thing he wants.
With a groan, Dean gets up and shuffles his way over to the coffee. He scrutinizes Sam’s face as he lifts the lid of his cup, checks the contents, then takes a grateful sip. “Right,” he says, “I’ll be ready in half an hour. Your stuff all packed up?” When Sam smiles and nods, he holds up the cup, “I’m taking this with me.” He gives a cheesy grin, and wanders off to the bathroom.
Sam shakes his head, and starts packing up the laptop. When Dean comes out of the bathroom later, dressed and shaved, he’s still adjusting one of the hearing aids, but Sam guesses it’s probably safe to say something. “I did some research on Coos Bay, the town the coordinates lead to. They’ve had three people just fall down dead where they stood, no sign of trauma, no cause of death. In one case, the lady was in the middle of a conversation with someone when she just keeled over. The article thinks it might be some weird disease. They want to call in the CDC. Dean, it’s a case. Dad isn’t there.” He speaks loudly until he sees Dean look up at him, then tempers the volume to something more normal.
Dean turns the volume on the hearing aid, “We don’t know that, Sam. Where else are we supposed to go? I don’t have any other leads on Dad, do you?” When Sam doesn’t answer, he continues, “Right. So we go. End of story. If we save a few people’s lives in the process, hey, bonus, that’s what we do.” He starts putting his things in his duffel bag, zipping things up, and getting ready to go. Sam marvels again at the new hearing aids Dean wears now. All growing up, Dean had these huge things that hung over the back of the ear, and guaranteed that everyone noticed them and teased him about it. These new ones fit inside the ear, and were barely noticeable at all. Dean said they worked better too. The sound was clearer. Okay, so the volume still has to be high on the radio when they drive, and it’s hard to show him any videos on his laptop because the tiny built-in speakers just can’t get loud enough to allow Dean to hear it easily, it’s still a big difference from when they were kids.
Mornings are still the same, though- no talking until the hearing aids are in. It surprises Sam to find he’s falling into the old routines so easily. They finish packing, but as Sam goes to take his bags out to the car, Dean stops him.
“When are we going to talk about this?” he asks.
Sam feigns confusion, “Talk about what?”
Dean sighs with frustration, “I’m not stupid, Sam, and I’m not deaf either. You’re not sleeping, and when you do finally drop off, you wake up screaming. You’re hoping that without the hearing aids I can’t hear you. Well, surprise, Sam, you’d wake the dead with your yells. I’ve been trying to let things slide, and give you your space, but this is starting to be a problem.”
Sam blinks with surprise and guilt, then quickly ducks his head. He didn’t think he was waking Dean up. He thought Dean didn’t know... “I’m sorry.” Sam says quietly.
“What?” Dean asks, tilting his head to try to hear him better, “You’re sorry? Are you kidding me? Sammy this isn’t anything to be sorry about. Dude, I know what you’ve been through. Just…talk to me! You just lost Jess, man, I know that, but you can’t keep going like this.”
Talk to him. Sam’s mouth twitches in amusement as he thinks of the morning filled with shrugs and gestures, but he knows that Dean is serious. He sighs, and runs a hand through his long bangs. It’s too early and he’s too tired to talk about this right now. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know how to… I just…I can’t talk about this right now. I just can’t, Dean. I’m sorry.”
It’s not a good enough answer. Dean growls with frustration, and shakes his head. “Whatever. We need to get going. I’m starving. Why didn’t you get breakfast with the coffee?” He looks at Sam again, “We still need to talk about this. This isn’t over.” He shoulders his bag, and leaves the room. Sam follows more slowly.
He’s starting to get the feeling it will never be over.