FIC: And Many More (Dean, Sam, John) PG
Title: And Many More
Author: Jess
Character / Pairing: Dean, Sam, and John
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1,100
Disclaimer: Kripke owns 'em, I just play with 'em. I promise I'll return them in their original condition.
Spoilers: Just the pilot
Summary: Three men. Three birthdays.
Author's Notes: A very Happy Birthday present for meimei42. I wish you for to making sexytime with the Winchester of your choosing many happy returns, dear!
XxX
"I remember her stomach being big."
"So," Sam said quietly, "You remember me?"
"Don't be an ass."
"Sorry."
Dean grinned. "So you don't deny you're an ass?" That got him hit in the face with an especially unpleasant smelling sock. He ignored the bait and went on with the story. "She was humming something, and the kitchen was all sunny."
"It was sunny inside?"
"Are you going to let me tell this?"
"Sorry.
"Anyway, I remember she was stirring something in a bowl, and I asked what it was. She said - "
"A birthday cake! Right?"
"Sam, do you want me to tell it? 'Cause I'd rather watch Hulk Hogan."
"Sorry, Dean, I'll stop."
"Yeah, it was a birthday cake. I asked who it was for." At this point, Dean expected his little brother to interrupt. Sam didn't, though he looked like he was going to burst. "Do you know what she told me?"
Sam grinned broadly. "Yes!"
Dean waited a beat, enjoying the power the story was having over Sam. Finally, he asked, "Who was it for?"
"Me!"
Dean smiled. "Yep. It was for you. Your first birthday cake before you were even alive."
"What kind was it?"
Dean didn't remember that, so he told Sam what he told him every year. "It was your favorite."
XxX
John wearily walked down the well-appointed hallway to his hotel room. It was much nicer than the usual rat-trap places he went for, but the seedier place in town creeped even him out. The guy at the front desk - well, John didn't like how he'd looked at Dean and Sam when they were checking in, so he sprung for somewhere with more than one floor and a pool in the back. His boys were delighted - they thought it was a vacation. That made John inexplicably sad.
He slid the key card into the electronic lock and waited until the catch gave a pneumatic hiss. He was relieved to be back even if they had to leave in the morning. The hunt had - well, it hadn't been as easy as he'd expected. He flexed his shoulder where he'd had to pop it back into place. It screamed with pain, and John appreciated the feathered mattress waiting for him all the more.
The room was much too quiet, the lamps were off, and Dean's secondhand video game was sitting silent in the corner. Fear gnawed at John's stomach as he dropped his bag with a thud as he called out for his sons.
There wasn't an immediate answer, and he turned to push the bathroom door open. Just as he touched the clean white wood, the lights snapped on, and Sam and Dean jumped up from behind the bed. "Surprise!"
They were each holding a package wrapped in taped-together hotel stationary, and Dean also had a plate of cupcakes in his hand. He saw that one had a large taper candle stuck into it.
"Jesus," he growled. "You shouldn't do that."
Sam looked crestfallen, but Dean just cocked his chin higher. Pride burst in John's chest as his oldest son walked out from around the bed and offered him the plate of cupcakes.
"It's your birthday," Dean informed him matter-of-factly.
It was the middle of the summer - John's birthday wasn't until December. He didn't tell Dean that though. He accepted the cupcake and sat down on the bed. "Thanks for remembering, son." The catch in his voice was noticeable only to him as Sam was already scrambling onto the bed beside him and waving his package under John's nose and Dean was concentrating on keeping the plate of cupcakes from upending.
The presents were small, but they made John's heart hurt. Sam had given him his favorite Matchbox - a yellow Corvette (John insisted Sam keep it safe for him). Dean gave him a travel shaving kit which could only have been purchased at an inflated rate at the hotel's shop. The manful handshake Dean gave him as John thanked him made him loathe to tell his son to return it for his money.
He pulled both boys into a tight hug (despite Dean's obvious anxiety) and thanked them once the candle had been extinguished and the cupcakes demolished. "Thanks, boys. This was the best birthday I've ever had."
He meant it.
XxX
Dean reluctantly extricated himself from Danielle's embrace to answer his buzzing phone. After a short, terse conversation, he turned toward the pouting brunette. "I'm sorry, babe, it was my - uh, I have to go meet someone."
Danielle cocked her eyebrow at him. "Someone?"
Dean looked away. "Yeah." He looked back to the girl in the passenger seat of the Impala. She was wearing - well, it didn't matter, really. It was more about what she wasn't wearing. Dean groaned. "I am really sorry. Really."
She leaned across the space between them, whispering close to his ear. "Just stay."
Dean closed his eyes. Damn, but that was tempting.
He turned toward her. "I'm really sorry, babe. I... can't."
Danielle flopped back into her seat, folding her arms. "Fine."
With a groan, Dean started the car up and drove her home.
X
"This had better be good, Sammy," Dean called into the darkened motel room. "You have no idea who - what - I just walked away from."
Sam looked up from a stack of books. He looked guilty.
"Well? What is it that couldn't wait until later?" Dean grinned. "Tomorrow morning even?"
Sam stood up, tucking his hands sheepishly into his pockets. "Yeah, man. Sorry. I, uh, well..."
"Spit it out, Sammy! I'm getting old here!"
Sam ducked his head. "Yeah, you are." He turned and opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew a slender package. He offered it to his brother. "Happy Birthday."
Dean started. "It's not my birthday."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, it is."
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam held up a newspaper, pointing to the date. "It was actually yesterday." He shoved the package into his brother's hands.
"Couldn't wait another day?" Dean grumbled.
Sam grinned. "Nope. It's..."
"Tradition. I know."
Dean sat down on the bed, and Sam sank back into the wobbly hotel chair, looking on expectantly.
Dean always hated opening gifts - there always seemed to be a reaction Sam expected, and Dean felt like he fell short every year. He readied himself for a new knife or a pair of gloves, but when he tore the simple blue paper away, he saw a silver framed photograph.
It was a picture of his mom, dad, him, and Sammy, cradled in his mom's arms.
When he spoke, he sounded too gruff for his own tastes, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Thanks, Sammy."
"Happy Birthday, man."
XxX
Author: Jess
Character / Pairing: Dean, Sam, and John
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1,100
Disclaimer: Kripke owns 'em, I just play with 'em. I promise I'll return them in their original condition.
Spoilers: Just the pilot
Summary: Three men. Three birthdays.
Author's Notes: A very Happy Birthday present for meimei42. I wish you for to making sexytime with the Winchester of your choosing many happy returns, dear!
XxX
"I remember her stomach being big."
"So," Sam said quietly, "You remember me?"
"Don't be an ass."
"Sorry."
Dean grinned. "So you don't deny you're an ass?" That got him hit in the face with an especially unpleasant smelling sock. He ignored the bait and went on with the story. "She was humming something, and the kitchen was all sunny."
"It was sunny inside?"
"Are you going to let me tell this?"
"Sorry.
"Anyway, I remember she was stirring something in a bowl, and I asked what it was. She said - "
"A birthday cake! Right?"
"Sam, do you want me to tell it? 'Cause I'd rather watch Hulk Hogan."
"Sorry, Dean, I'll stop."
"Yeah, it was a birthday cake. I asked who it was for." At this point, Dean expected his little brother to interrupt. Sam didn't, though he looked like he was going to burst. "Do you know what she told me?"
Sam grinned broadly. "Yes!"
Dean waited a beat, enjoying the power the story was having over Sam. Finally, he asked, "Who was it for?"
"Me!"
Dean smiled. "Yep. It was for you. Your first birthday cake before you were even alive."
"What kind was it?"
Dean didn't remember that, so he told Sam what he told him every year. "It was your favorite."
XxX
John wearily walked down the well-appointed hallway to his hotel room. It was much nicer than the usual rat-trap places he went for, but the seedier place in town creeped even him out. The guy at the front desk - well, John didn't like how he'd looked at Dean and Sam when they were checking in, so he sprung for somewhere with more than one floor and a pool in the back. His boys were delighted - they thought it was a vacation. That made John inexplicably sad.
He slid the key card into the electronic lock and waited until the catch gave a pneumatic hiss. He was relieved to be back even if they had to leave in the morning. The hunt had - well, it hadn't been as easy as he'd expected. He flexed his shoulder where he'd had to pop it back into place. It screamed with pain, and John appreciated the feathered mattress waiting for him all the more.
The room was much too quiet, the lamps were off, and Dean's secondhand video game was sitting silent in the corner. Fear gnawed at John's stomach as he dropped his bag with a thud as he called out for his sons.
There wasn't an immediate answer, and he turned to push the bathroom door open. Just as he touched the clean white wood, the lights snapped on, and Sam and Dean jumped up from behind the bed. "Surprise!"
They were each holding a package wrapped in taped-together hotel stationary, and Dean also had a plate of cupcakes in his hand. He saw that one had a large taper candle stuck into it.
"Jesus," he growled. "You shouldn't do that."
Sam looked crestfallen, but Dean just cocked his chin higher. Pride burst in John's chest as his oldest son walked out from around the bed and offered him the plate of cupcakes.
"It's your birthday," Dean informed him matter-of-factly.
It was the middle of the summer - John's birthday wasn't until December. He didn't tell Dean that though. He accepted the cupcake and sat down on the bed. "Thanks for remembering, son." The catch in his voice was noticeable only to him as Sam was already scrambling onto the bed beside him and waving his package under John's nose and Dean was concentrating on keeping the plate of cupcakes from upending.
The presents were small, but they made John's heart hurt. Sam had given him his favorite Matchbox - a yellow Corvette (John insisted Sam keep it safe for him). Dean gave him a travel shaving kit which could only have been purchased at an inflated rate at the hotel's shop. The manful handshake Dean gave him as John thanked him made him loathe to tell his son to return it for his money.
He pulled both boys into a tight hug (despite Dean's obvious anxiety) and thanked them once the candle had been extinguished and the cupcakes demolished. "Thanks, boys. This was the best birthday I've ever had."
He meant it.
XxX
Dean reluctantly extricated himself from Danielle's embrace to answer his buzzing phone. After a short, terse conversation, he turned toward the pouting brunette. "I'm sorry, babe, it was my - uh, I have to go meet someone."
Danielle cocked her eyebrow at him. "Someone?"
Dean looked away. "Yeah." He looked back to the girl in the passenger seat of the Impala. She was wearing - well, it didn't matter, really. It was more about what she wasn't wearing. Dean groaned. "I am really sorry. Really."
She leaned across the space between them, whispering close to his ear. "Just stay."
Dean closed his eyes. Damn, but that was tempting.
He turned toward her. "I'm really sorry, babe. I... can't."
Danielle flopped back into her seat, folding her arms. "Fine."
With a groan, Dean started the car up and drove her home.
X
"This had better be good, Sammy," Dean called into the darkened motel room. "You have no idea who - what - I just walked away from."
Sam looked up from a stack of books. He looked guilty.
"Well? What is it that couldn't wait until later?" Dean grinned. "Tomorrow morning even?"
Sam stood up, tucking his hands sheepishly into his pockets. "Yeah, man. Sorry. I, uh, well..."
"Spit it out, Sammy! I'm getting old here!"
Sam ducked his head. "Yeah, you are." He turned and opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew a slender package. He offered it to his brother. "Happy Birthday."
Dean started. "It's not my birthday."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, it is."
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam held up a newspaper, pointing to the date. "It was actually yesterday." He shoved the package into his brother's hands.
"Couldn't wait another day?" Dean grumbled.
Sam grinned. "Nope. It's..."
"Tradition. I know."
Dean sat down on the bed, and Sam sank back into the wobbly hotel chair, looking on expectantly.
Dean always hated opening gifts - there always seemed to be a reaction Sam expected, and Dean felt like he fell short every year. He readied himself for a new knife or a pair of gloves, but when he tore the simple blue paper away, he saw a silver framed photograph.
It was a picture of his mom, dad, him, and Sammy, cradled in his mom's arms.
When he spoke, he sounded too gruff for his own tastes, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Thanks, Sammy."
"Happy Birthday, man."
XxX