SPN FICLET: Everything but the kitchen sink
So as I said in my last post that I was doing mininano. And I wrote this ficlet from a prompt wesleysgirl gave me a while back (ice cream). I'm unsure how good it is, it kept wandering all over as I was writing, but hey it's still fic that's finished.
"Dude, what the hell is that?"
Dean grinned at him with all the enthusiasm of a five year old. "It's called Everything But the Kitchen Sink."
Sam looked at the large concoction of ice cream and every kind of topping that Sam had ever heard of that was taking up far too much of the table. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "I think they might have hidden a kitchen sink in there too."
"Isn't it great?" Dean enthused, waving his spoon around with delight, a big dollop of whipped cream clinging tenuously to it. "You don't have to make any decisions about what to get on it because it's got everything." He took a huge bite that almost didn't fit into his mouth, a little bit of whipped cream sticking to the corner of his lips.
"You have all the manners of someone raised by wolves," Sam observed. "Very rude wolves."
"Aw, come on Sammy," Dean said around a mouthful of ice cream, Sam only being able to understand through long years of conversations with an eating Dean. "Lighten up, will ya? We're celebrating, aren't we? That should always involve large amounts of ice cream."
"I think we passed large amounts at least five scoops before that was done."
Dean rolled his eyes and refilled his spoon with some more of the dessert and stuck it in Sam's mouth when he opened it to continue talking, turning Sam's words into an outraged. 'mph' sound.
"Shut up," Dean told him pleasantly. "Have some ice cream."
Sam swallowed the sudden mouthful and protested, "Dean-"
Only to be cut off for a second time, this time by his brother leaning across the table and kissing him. "Shut up, Sammy," Dean repeated when he pulled back, then grinned. "Tastes even better that way."
That did actually leave Sam speechless. Not because of the kiss itself -- it had been months since they'd taken that step in their relationship -- but the location. They had always been careful to keep the more blatantly demonstrative aspects to behind closed doors because what was between them was nobody's business but their own. (Not that it made any difference; people had been assuming they were lovers long before that was the truth.) But still. It was private.
But here Dean was, kissing him in the middle of a crowded diner, over an insanely huge ice cream concoction, where anyone and their dog could see them. When he finally found his voice again, all Sam asked was, "Why?"
Dean didn't pretend to not understand the question and the answer he gave was serious, even if it was given with a smile and punctuated by his waving his spoon of ice cream around. "It's my birthday. I'm 30, Sammy. Thirty. Even as a kid I wasn't sure I was going to make it this far, and the last couple of years... well, you know as well as I do about the last couple of years. Twenty-nine was supposed to be as old as I got, but here I am, thirty. With a damned good chance of seeing 31 and 32 and hell, even 40 and 50 and beyond. I've got a future and it's my birthday and I want to eat ice cream and not hide. Even if it's just for today."
For a moment Sam felt the same heady mixture of giddy relief and dawning joy from right after he had broken the deal when the realisation that Dean wasn't going to die had finally sank in. It had never really stopped sinking in and continually caught Sam at unexpected moments. Like in the middle of a diner over ice cream and confessions.
"Damn right, it's just for today," Sam said, reaching for his spoon and dipping it into the sundae. "We eat one of these every day, someone would have to roll us to the Impala." He fed the spoonfull to Dean, then leaned across and stole a kiss back. "You're right. It does taste better that way."
Dean grinned widely and held out another spoonful to his brother.. "Knew you'd see it my way, Sammy,."
"Dude, what the hell is that?"
Dean grinned at him with all the enthusiasm of a five year old. "It's called Everything But the Kitchen Sink."
Sam looked at the large concoction of ice cream and every kind of topping that Sam had ever heard of that was taking up far too much of the table. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "I think they might have hidden a kitchen sink in there too."
"Isn't it great?" Dean enthused, waving his spoon around with delight, a big dollop of whipped cream clinging tenuously to it. "You don't have to make any decisions about what to get on it because it's got everything." He took a huge bite that almost didn't fit into his mouth, a little bit of whipped cream sticking to the corner of his lips.
"You have all the manners of someone raised by wolves," Sam observed. "Very rude wolves."
"Aw, come on Sammy," Dean said around a mouthful of ice cream, Sam only being able to understand through long years of conversations with an eating Dean. "Lighten up, will ya? We're celebrating, aren't we? That should always involve large amounts of ice cream."
"I think we passed large amounts at least five scoops before that was done."
Dean rolled his eyes and refilled his spoon with some more of the dessert and stuck it in Sam's mouth when he opened it to continue talking, turning Sam's words into an outraged. 'mph' sound.
"Shut up," Dean told him pleasantly. "Have some ice cream."
Sam swallowed the sudden mouthful and protested, "Dean-"
Only to be cut off for a second time, this time by his brother leaning across the table and kissing him. "Shut up, Sammy," Dean repeated when he pulled back, then grinned. "Tastes even better that way."
That did actually leave Sam speechless. Not because of the kiss itself -- it had been months since they'd taken that step in their relationship -- but the location. They had always been careful to keep the more blatantly demonstrative aspects to behind closed doors because what was between them was nobody's business but their own. (Not that it made any difference; people had been assuming they were lovers long before that was the truth.) But still. It was private.
But here Dean was, kissing him in the middle of a crowded diner, over an insanely huge ice cream concoction, where anyone and their dog could see them. When he finally found his voice again, all Sam asked was, "Why?"
Dean didn't pretend to not understand the question and the answer he gave was serious, even if it was given with a smile and punctuated by his waving his spoon of ice cream around. "It's my birthday. I'm 30, Sammy. Thirty. Even as a kid I wasn't sure I was going to make it this far, and the last couple of years... well, you know as well as I do about the last couple of years. Twenty-nine was supposed to be as old as I got, but here I am, thirty. With a damned good chance of seeing 31 and 32 and hell, even 40 and 50 and beyond. I've got a future and it's my birthday and I want to eat ice cream and not hide. Even if it's just for today."
For a moment Sam felt the same heady mixture of giddy relief and dawning joy from right after he had broken the deal when the realisation that Dean wasn't going to die had finally sank in. It had never really stopped sinking in and continually caught Sam at unexpected moments. Like in the middle of a diner over ice cream and confessions.
"Damn right, it's just for today," Sam said, reaching for his spoon and dipping it into the sundae. "We eat one of these every day, someone would have to roll us to the Impala." He fed the spoonfull to Dean, then leaned across and stole a kiss back. "You're right. It does taste better that way."
Dean grinned widely and held out another spoonful to his brother.. "Knew you'd see it my way, Sammy,."