Berries from Heaven (Supernatural Fic)
Feb. 11th, 2017 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Berries from Heaven
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen, hints of Destiel-to-be
Rating: PG for some potty mouthed Dean
Word Count: 946
Summary: Life as a hunter is hard. But there are sweet moments sometimes. And too much heartache.
Author’s Notes: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. My prompt was, ‘a medicine bottle, a flashlight, an angel’. You had me at ‘angel’, angel.
Dean popped a couple Advil into his mouth and washed them down with the last inch of beer left in the bottle. That last case had been a killer and if the headache slash hangover he currently had was any indication, today wasn’t going to be any easier. He scrubbed his hands over his face and glanced at the clock. Groaning, he looked towards the hotel room door, waiting.
Like clockwork, Sammy entered with a bag of food and a couple Styrofoam cups of coffee. Despite his roiling stomach, the food smelled good. So damn good. Nearly as good as – no. “Where’d you go?”
Sam set the bag down on the wobbly table near the door. He wiggled a cup out of the cardboard container and set it beside the bag. The other, he brought over to his brother. “The café down the road has Wi-Fi,” he said, as if that should explain everything. Maybe, if Dean were a geek like his little brother, it would make more sense. “I brought you back some breakfast. Come eat.”
The lure of the food overruled the protest his stomach was putting up. Hadn’t he always been told that a good, greasy breakfast was the best thing after a night like he’d had? Eh, maybe, maybe not. Either way, he was going to eat. Dean stood and stumbled over to the table. Sitting heavily in the one chair that didn’t rock, he dug into the bag.
Despite all the crap he tended to give his brother, Sam knew what Dean liked. Two big croissants stuffed with bacon, eggs, and cheese were the first things he pulled out. Next was a container of hash browns, a couple packets of ketchup, and a – what? “Sammy,” Dean growled. “What the hell’s with the fruit?”
Shrugging, Sam took the container of berries from Dean and set it on the table. “I had to try, right? I mean, with all the rest of this… heart attack in a bag, I had to get something healthy.”
Grinning, Dean unwrapped one of the sandwiches and took a bite. “Did you eat,” he asked around a mouthful of heaven.
Sam nodded. “I did, and I also did some research.”
“You find us another case?” He forked some hash browns into his mouth. They could have been crispier, but he figured sitting in the Styrofoam on the trip home had more to do with that than any fault of the chef. “This is good, by the way.”
“Glad to hear it,” Sam said, giving Dean a half smile. “And I think that maybe I have. It’s in Omaha but –“
“Omaha,” Dean scoffed. “Do people actually live in Omaha?”
“We’re from Kansas,” Sam reminded him. “You might want to be careful who you make fun of, Dean.”
“Whatever,” he said, eating the rest of his sandwich in two bites. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, tapping a plastic fork on the lid of the container holding the berries. “I talked to Cas.”
Dean’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “And?” Please say he’s coming home, please tell me he’s not mad any more. Please, Sam.
Sam gave a one shoulder shrug. “And he’s still looking. He said he’d call back when he has more information for us.”
He dropped the fork onto the table and closed the half eaten hash browns. Suddenly, he had no appetite.
Studying his brother for a long moment, Sam sighed. “Dean, you need to eat. Cas will come back, you just have to give him some time.”
“Did he tell you that,” Dean asked, instantly hating the eagerness he heard in his voice.
“Not in so many words,” Sam confessed. “But I know him, Dean. He’s never abandoned us before, no matter how shitty we were to him. I don’t see him doing so now. Not even after what you’d said.”
Dean looked down at his hands and pulled the hash browns towards him again. He lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth and hesitated. “You sure about this, Sammy?”
“Positive,” he said. “Cas didn’t sound angry, Dean. He even asked how you’d been doing, if you were okay.”
He felt his heart stutter in his chest and it startled Dean. Long ago, he thought he’d lost the ability to feel anything other than anger, hatred, and fear. And then the angel came into their lives and he’d realized he’d been wrong. That damn innocent, confused, and sweet ass idiot had changed everything for him. “Okay,” Dean said, devouring the last of the hash browns with gusto. “Now hand over those damn berries.”
Sam turned the container around on the table, grinning. “What about your other sandwich? Aren’t you going to eat that first?”
“Do you want them,” Dean growled.
“No,” Sam chuckled. “I had my fill at the café. But why do you want them?”
Because they’re sweet, just like Cas. “Goddamnit, Sammy,” he shouted, more frustrated with himself than anyone else. “You want me to be healthier and then you won’t give them to me. Make up your damn mind.”
“Oh-kaaay,” Sam said, sliding the berries over to Dean. “I’m just going to let this go because I’m not sure I want to know what spurred this change of heart.”
Although Dean thinks Sam already knows. Because Sam pays attention. And Sam listens to things that aren’t being said. And… damn his brother for being so intuitive. “Thank you,” he muttered, sliding a fat strawberry through the dollop of whipped cream that came with the fruit.
Ah yeah, that was exactly what he needed. A little taste sweetness on his tongue, enough to hold him over until… no. Just enough, period.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen, hints of Destiel-to-be
Rating: PG for some potty mouthed Dean
Word Count: 946
Summary: Life as a hunter is hard. But there are sweet moments sometimes. And too much heartache.
Author’s Notes: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. My prompt was, ‘a medicine bottle, a flashlight, an angel’. You had me at ‘angel’, angel.
Dean popped a couple Advil into his mouth and washed them down with the last inch of beer left in the bottle. That last case had been a killer and if the headache slash hangover he currently had was any indication, today wasn’t going to be any easier. He scrubbed his hands over his face and glanced at the clock. Groaning, he looked towards the hotel room door, waiting.
Like clockwork, Sammy entered with a bag of food and a couple Styrofoam cups of coffee. Despite his roiling stomach, the food smelled good. So damn good. Nearly as good as – no. “Where’d you go?”
Sam set the bag down on the wobbly table near the door. He wiggled a cup out of the cardboard container and set it beside the bag. The other, he brought over to his brother. “The café down the road has Wi-Fi,” he said, as if that should explain everything. Maybe, if Dean were a geek like his little brother, it would make more sense. “I brought you back some breakfast. Come eat.”
The lure of the food overruled the protest his stomach was putting up. Hadn’t he always been told that a good, greasy breakfast was the best thing after a night like he’d had? Eh, maybe, maybe not. Either way, he was going to eat. Dean stood and stumbled over to the table. Sitting heavily in the one chair that didn’t rock, he dug into the bag.
Despite all the crap he tended to give his brother, Sam knew what Dean liked. Two big croissants stuffed with bacon, eggs, and cheese were the first things he pulled out. Next was a container of hash browns, a couple packets of ketchup, and a – what? “Sammy,” Dean growled. “What the hell’s with the fruit?”
Shrugging, Sam took the container of berries from Dean and set it on the table. “I had to try, right? I mean, with all the rest of this… heart attack in a bag, I had to get something healthy.”
Grinning, Dean unwrapped one of the sandwiches and took a bite. “Did you eat,” he asked around a mouthful of heaven.
Sam nodded. “I did, and I also did some research.”
“You find us another case?” He forked some hash browns into his mouth. They could have been crispier, but he figured sitting in the Styrofoam on the trip home had more to do with that than any fault of the chef. “This is good, by the way.”
“Glad to hear it,” Sam said, giving Dean a half smile. “And I think that maybe I have. It’s in Omaha but –“
“Omaha,” Dean scoffed. “Do people actually live in Omaha?”
“We’re from Kansas,” Sam reminded him. “You might want to be careful who you make fun of, Dean.”
“Whatever,” he said, eating the rest of his sandwich in two bites. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, tapping a plastic fork on the lid of the container holding the berries. “I talked to Cas.”
Dean’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “And?” Please say he’s coming home, please tell me he’s not mad any more. Please, Sam.
Sam gave a one shoulder shrug. “And he’s still looking. He said he’d call back when he has more information for us.”
He dropped the fork onto the table and closed the half eaten hash browns. Suddenly, he had no appetite.
Studying his brother for a long moment, Sam sighed. “Dean, you need to eat. Cas will come back, you just have to give him some time.”
“Did he tell you that,” Dean asked, instantly hating the eagerness he heard in his voice.
“Not in so many words,” Sam confessed. “But I know him, Dean. He’s never abandoned us before, no matter how shitty we were to him. I don’t see him doing so now. Not even after what you’d said.”
Dean looked down at his hands and pulled the hash browns towards him again. He lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth and hesitated. “You sure about this, Sammy?”
“Positive,” he said. “Cas didn’t sound angry, Dean. He even asked how you’d been doing, if you were okay.”
He felt his heart stutter in his chest and it startled Dean. Long ago, he thought he’d lost the ability to feel anything other than anger, hatred, and fear. And then the angel came into their lives and he’d realized he’d been wrong. That damn innocent, confused, and sweet ass idiot had changed everything for him. “Okay,” Dean said, devouring the last of the hash browns with gusto. “Now hand over those damn berries.”
Sam turned the container around on the table, grinning. “What about your other sandwich? Aren’t you going to eat that first?”
“Do you want them,” Dean growled.
“No,” Sam chuckled. “I had my fill at the café. But why do you want them?”
Because they’re sweet, just like Cas. “Goddamnit, Sammy,” he shouted, more frustrated with himself than anyone else. “You want me to be healthier and then you won’t give them to me. Make up your damn mind.”
“Oh-kaaay,” Sam said, sliding the berries over to Dean. “I’m just going to let this go because I’m not sure I want to know what spurred this change of heart.”
Although Dean thinks Sam already knows. Because Sam pays attention. And Sam listens to things that aren’t being said. And… damn his brother for being so intuitive. “Thank you,” he muttered, sliding a fat strawberry through the dollop of whipped cream that came with the fruit.
Ah yeah, that was exactly what he needed. A little taste sweetness on his tongue, enough to hold him over until… no. Just enough, period.
