New Fic: A Spoonful of Honey...
XXX
Sam knew it was a chancy move at best. It also made him feel both a little dirty and a little girly at the same time. Still, talking with Dad had never been easy and why not try some common ground.
It was hard to find. Really hard to find. The common ground and the whiskey. Well, Jack Daniels wasn’t hard to find but Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey was more than hard to find.
But he and Dad had been all but ripping each other’s throats out lately. Sam knew only far too well how those battles ended and he was usually not the one standing. So why not give a little? Try to see things Dad’s way? What better way to mellow out John Winchester than a bottle of Jack?
But Sam on the other hand preferred Jameson. There was something about a single distilled whiskey as compared to a triple distilled whiskey that Sam could never get behind. Besides, Jack Daniels called it whiskey but it was Kentucky bourbon. Sam was always a stickler for shit like that. Sam wasn’t sure why he preferred Jameson but he did. If he really wanted to delve into his choice in whiskey, it was probably just because his father hated Jameson. Sam was sure his psychology professor would have something to say about that. Whatever. When he drank whiskey, which was not really all that often, Jameson was his drink of choice.
But talking to Dad over a bottle of Jack? Dad would drink his ass under the table and Sam would bitch and moan about how it wasn’t Jameson. If they drank Jameson, Dad would bitch and moan about why the fuck would you want Irish whiskey when good old American whiskey was the only good whiskey worth drinking and then there would be another fight.
Damn, Sam did not want another fight.
So he settled.
Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey.
The bottle sat on the kitchen table with two small mostly clean glasses. It had a white label, honey colored whiskey filtered through the glass bottle with a - Sam peered more intently on the label - a fucking honey bee on the label.
Shit, if the old man wouldn’t die of laughter, Dean surely would. The only good thing was that Dean was out for the night with the Dixie Twins. He didn’t give any more information than that and truthfully, Sam didn’t want anymore.
So Sam settled at the table, shifted the bottle a few times, moved the glasses from side to side nervously and waited.
He didn’t have too long to wait.
His father powerhoused his way into the front door of the cabin with a shoulder to the wooden door.
“Shoulda been there, Sam. Nothing like a good game of poker to settle an old bet, besides, walking home with the extra dough helps too.”
His father wasn’t drunk, far from it. John Winchester did not play poker drunk.
“Good way to lose hard earned money boys and I catch you fuckin around like that I’ll kick your asses myself.”
Sam didn’t doubt it and neither did Dean. When they played poker they both drank just enough to fit in with the other guys. Or pretended to drink more to use it to their advantage. An oldie but a goodie.
“What’s this?” Dad eyed the carefully placed bottle.
“A peace offering. For the other night.” Sam didn’t elaborate and he didn’t need to- both he and Dad had gotten a little hot and heavy.
“I mean what the fuck is this?” His father leaned down and scrutinized the bottle much like Sam had done.
“Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey - it’s new the first time old Number Seven has launched a new whiskey in a generation. Thought we might give it a shot. Or two.”
“Has it got a fucking…bee on it? A bee?”
“Well, it’s a manly kind of bee, plus it says it’s ‘finely crafted’”
Dad looked a little closer…”Honey liqueur. Sam, honey liqueur.”
“Awe, c’mon Dad, it also says original recipe and it’s Jack right?”
Sam pulled a chair out for his father with a flourish and John eyed him suspiciously.
Then Sam sat down across from his father, pulled the white labeled bottle to him, ceremoniously cracked the label and poured the decidedly non-amber whiskey into his father’s glass first and then his.
John lifted it up to the light. “Looks like piss.”
“Dad…it’s honey - not piss flavored.”
Dad growled. “That’s just it Sam.” He leaned on the word ‘Sam’ for effect. “It is flavored whiskey. That is just wrong.”
Sam sighed. “All whiskey is flavored in some way, shape or form. Barrels, aging, hell I don’t know but there’s a reason one tastes different from another.”
“Hell, I’d rather drink Kool Aid.”
Sam sighed again. “Dad, it’s just you, me and a bottle of Jack Daniels. True, not traditional Jack but it is Jack Daniels. How about we drink a little, watch an old John Wayne flick and call it a truce.”
Sam could see his father waver a bit. It was Jack Daniels.
All Sam could think about was how maybe the honey could soften the taste of Jack.
He figured John was thinking maybe the Jack could harden up the honey.
“You know what, son. You are right. Let’s fucking toast to the best made American Whiskey there is. We’ll even celebrate this new…”Dad waved his hand vaguely toward the white labeled bottle”…addition to the fine family of Old Number Seven.”
Dad raised his glass, held the golden liquid up and Sam did the same. A quick clank and they downed the whiskey in one gulp.
Sam looked at Dad. Dad looked at Sam.
Dad reached over poured both himself and Sam another drink - Sam was sure just to make sure they were on the same side here.
Again, another clash of glasses and a quick swallow down.
“Smooth,” Dad said with a grin.
“Real smooth,” Sam echoed.
“What’s that?” John poured himself another drink rolled the whiskey in his mouth, “Is that butterscotch?”
Sam poured a drink for himself, “Nah, toffee, definitely toffee.”
Then to be sure they both drank some more.
XXX
Dean came home at 0300 to find both Sam and Dad on the couch slumped against one another with an old John Wayne movie on.
There was a bottle of white Jack Daniels with a bee on the label.
He lifted the empty bottle and offered an exploratory whiff. Honey? Honey whiskey?
“Damn, I leave them alone for one night and they turn into girls.”
End.
AN: Again...to be a fangurl I gotta say, Jason Manns loves Jameson. Dude, I'm such a geek.
Sam knew it was a chancy move at best. It also made him feel both a little dirty and a little girly at the same time. Still, talking with Dad had never been easy and why not try some common ground.
It was hard to find. Really hard to find. The common ground and the whiskey. Well, Jack Daniels wasn’t hard to find but Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey was more than hard to find.
But he and Dad had been all but ripping each other’s throats out lately. Sam knew only far too well how those battles ended and he was usually not the one standing. So why not give a little? Try to see things Dad’s way? What better way to mellow out John Winchester than a bottle of Jack?
But Sam on the other hand preferred Jameson. There was something about a single distilled whiskey as compared to a triple distilled whiskey that Sam could never get behind. Besides, Jack Daniels called it whiskey but it was Kentucky bourbon. Sam was always a stickler for shit like that. Sam wasn’t sure why he preferred Jameson but he did. If he really wanted to delve into his choice in whiskey, it was probably just because his father hated Jameson. Sam was sure his psychology professor would have something to say about that. Whatever. When he drank whiskey, which was not really all that often, Jameson was his drink of choice.
But talking to Dad over a bottle of Jack? Dad would drink his ass under the table and Sam would bitch and moan about how it wasn’t Jameson. If they drank Jameson, Dad would bitch and moan about why the fuck would you want Irish whiskey when good old American whiskey was the only good whiskey worth drinking and then there would be another fight.
Damn, Sam did not want another fight.
So he settled.
Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey.
The bottle sat on the kitchen table with two small mostly clean glasses. It had a white label, honey colored whiskey filtered through the glass bottle with a - Sam peered more intently on the label - a fucking honey bee on the label.
Shit, if the old man wouldn’t die of laughter, Dean surely would. The only good thing was that Dean was out for the night with the Dixie Twins. He didn’t give any more information than that and truthfully, Sam didn’t want anymore.
So Sam settled at the table, shifted the bottle a few times, moved the glasses from side to side nervously and waited.
He didn’t have too long to wait.
His father powerhoused his way into the front door of the cabin with a shoulder to the wooden door.
“Shoulda been there, Sam. Nothing like a good game of poker to settle an old bet, besides, walking home with the extra dough helps too.”
His father wasn’t drunk, far from it. John Winchester did not play poker drunk.
“Good way to lose hard earned money boys and I catch you fuckin around like that I’ll kick your asses myself.”
Sam didn’t doubt it and neither did Dean. When they played poker they both drank just enough to fit in with the other guys. Or pretended to drink more to use it to their advantage. An oldie but a goodie.
“What’s this?” Dad eyed the carefully placed bottle.
“A peace offering. For the other night.” Sam didn’t elaborate and he didn’t need to- both he and Dad had gotten a little hot and heavy.
“I mean what the fuck is this?” His father leaned down and scrutinized the bottle much like Sam had done.
“Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey - it’s new the first time old Number Seven has launched a new whiskey in a generation. Thought we might give it a shot. Or two.”
“Has it got a fucking…bee on it? A bee?”
“Well, it’s a manly kind of bee, plus it says it’s ‘finely crafted’”
Dad looked a little closer…”Honey liqueur. Sam, honey liqueur.”
“Awe, c’mon Dad, it also says original recipe and it’s Jack right?”
Sam pulled a chair out for his father with a flourish and John eyed him suspiciously.
Then Sam sat down across from his father, pulled the white labeled bottle to him, ceremoniously cracked the label and poured the decidedly non-amber whiskey into his father’s glass first and then his.
John lifted it up to the light. “Looks like piss.”
“Dad…it’s honey - not piss flavored.”
Dad growled. “That’s just it Sam.” He leaned on the word ‘Sam’ for effect. “It is flavored whiskey. That is just wrong.”
Sam sighed. “All whiskey is flavored in some way, shape or form. Barrels, aging, hell I don’t know but there’s a reason one tastes different from another.”
“Hell, I’d rather drink Kool Aid.”
Sam sighed again. “Dad, it’s just you, me and a bottle of Jack Daniels. True, not traditional Jack but it is Jack Daniels. How about we drink a little, watch an old John Wayne flick and call it a truce.”
Sam could see his father waver a bit. It was Jack Daniels.
All Sam could think about was how maybe the honey could soften the taste of Jack.
He figured John was thinking maybe the Jack could harden up the honey.
“You know what, son. You are right. Let’s fucking toast to the best made American Whiskey there is. We’ll even celebrate this new…”Dad waved his hand vaguely toward the white labeled bottle”…addition to the fine family of Old Number Seven.”
Dad raised his glass, held the golden liquid up and Sam did the same. A quick clank and they downed the whiskey in one gulp.
Sam looked at Dad. Dad looked at Sam.
Dad reached over poured both himself and Sam another drink - Sam was sure just to make sure they were on the same side here.
Again, another clash of glasses and a quick swallow down.
“Smooth,” Dad said with a grin.
“Real smooth,” Sam echoed.
“What’s that?” John poured himself another drink rolled the whiskey in his mouth, “Is that butterscotch?”
Sam poured a drink for himself, “Nah, toffee, definitely toffee.”
Then to be sure they both drank some more.
XXX
Dean came home at 0300 to find both Sam and Dad on the couch slumped against one another with an old John Wayne movie on.
There was a bottle of white Jack Daniels with a bee on the label.
He lifted the empty bottle and offered an exploratory whiff. Honey? Honey whiskey?
“Damn, I leave them alone for one night and they turn into girls.”
End.
AN: Again...to be a fangurl I gotta say, Jason Manns loves Jameson. Dude, I'm such a geek.