SPN: May 2, 2006 1/3
SUMMARY: There's a reason Sam hates birthdays. Written for the hoodie_time tagfic challenge. Tags used are "gunshot wound" and "appendicitis".
MAY 2, 2006
"Ice cream, dude? Really?"
Dean glared at Sam. "Yes, Sam -- really. It's your birthday, man! We need to celebrate it!"
Sam chuckled. "No, Dean -- we really don't."
"You got something against birthdays?"
"Nothing good ever happens on my birthday. Not since I turned 18."
Dean winced. He remembered that nightmare of a birthday all too well. He'd long suspected the stress of watching Dean recover from curse-originated quadriplegia that summer had been the final catalyst that had driven Sam from their family. "But you're not turning 18, Sammy. You're turning 23! And I want to buy you ice cream!"
Sam opened his mouth to object again, then realised that maybe -- just this once -- this wasn't about what he needed to get, but about what Dean needed to give. Maybe Dean needed to make up for those four birthday's he'd missed - even though he'd not asked for anything those last two years, he'd always sent Sam at least a text or a card. "Okay," he sighed, conceding. "Just this once."
He knew he'd made the right call when Dean's face lit up. He always looked like a little boy when he grinned that smile that reached his eyes. "You won't regret this, Sammy!"
Sam felt a chill slide down his spine at Dean's words. "I already do," he muttered under his breath.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Normally, the brothers stuck to diners or the cheapest fast-food joints. So when Dean pulled the Impala up outside a dairy, Sam turned to frown a question at him.
"There's a restaurant in the back," Dean grinned at him. "They use the dairy's milk to make 18 different shades of ice cream. Website totes it as the best ice cream in the Tri-State area."
Sam blinked at him. "'Web-site'?"
Dean's smile dimmed. ".....or so Joshua tells me." He got out of the car.
Sam suddenly felt like a heel. And he wasn't exactly sure why. He felt like he'd missed something very important.
It wasn't a feeling he liked.
Dean rapped his knuckles on the window by his head. "You comin', or what?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam got out of the Impala. "Bet you can't even remember m favourite flavour, jerk."
Without missing a beat, Dean called over his shoulder, "Fudge swirl on top, cookies and cream on bottom -- or side-by-side in a cup."
Sam froze, eyes huge as he stared after Dean for a moment. ".....Huh." He jogged to catch up, then asked, "It's been four years -- and you still---" He flinched from the open-hand cuff on the back of his head. "Ow! Hey!"
"Dude, I'm your brother." Dean turned to look at him as he put his hand on the knob. "I practically raised you. You think I wouldn't remember that?" He shook his head, tugging the door open. "I swear, Sammy -- sometimes you can be a real little bit--"
The rest of the word was lost in the roar of a gunshot and the sight of Dean flying backward onto the sidewalk, a fountain of crimson shooting from his right side.
On To Part Two
MAY 2, 2006
"Ice cream, dude? Really?"
Dean glared at Sam. "Yes, Sam -- really. It's your birthday, man! We need to celebrate it!"
Sam chuckled. "No, Dean -- we really don't."
"You got something against birthdays?"
"Nothing good ever happens on my birthday. Not since I turned 18."
Dean winced. He remembered that nightmare of a birthday all too well. He'd long suspected the stress of watching Dean recover from curse-originated quadriplegia that summer had been the final catalyst that had driven Sam from their family. "But you're not turning 18, Sammy. You're turning 23! And I want to buy you ice cream!"
Sam opened his mouth to object again, then realised that maybe -- just this once -- this wasn't about what he needed to get, but about what Dean needed to give. Maybe Dean needed to make up for those four birthday's he'd missed - even though he'd not asked for anything those last two years, he'd always sent Sam at least a text or a card. "Okay," he sighed, conceding. "Just this once."
He knew he'd made the right call when Dean's face lit up. He always looked like a little boy when he grinned that smile that reached his eyes. "You won't regret this, Sammy!"
Sam felt a chill slide down his spine at Dean's words. "I already do," he muttered under his breath.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Normally, the brothers stuck to diners or the cheapest fast-food joints. So when Dean pulled the Impala up outside a dairy, Sam turned to frown a question at him.
"There's a restaurant in the back," Dean grinned at him. "They use the dairy's milk to make 18 different shades of ice cream. Website totes it as the best ice cream in the Tri-State area."
Sam blinked at him. "'Web-site'?"
Dean's smile dimmed. ".....or so Joshua tells me." He got out of the car.
Sam suddenly felt like a heel. And he wasn't exactly sure why. He felt like he'd missed something very important.
It wasn't a feeling he liked.
Dean rapped his knuckles on the window by his head. "You comin', or what?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam got out of the Impala. "Bet you can't even remember m favourite flavour, jerk."
Without missing a beat, Dean called over his shoulder, "Fudge swirl on top, cookies and cream on bottom -- or side-by-side in a cup."
Sam froze, eyes huge as he stared after Dean for a moment. ".....Huh." He jogged to catch up, then asked, "It's been four years -- and you still---" He flinched from the open-hand cuff on the back of his head. "Ow! Hey!"
"Dude, I'm your brother." Dean turned to look at him as he put his hand on the knob. "I practically raised you. You think I wouldn't remember that?" He shook his head, tugging the door open. "I swear, Sammy -- sometimes you can be a real little bit--"
The rest of the word was lost in the roar of a gunshot and the sight of Dean flying backward onto the sidewalk, a fountain of crimson shooting from his right side.
On To Part Two