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“Soups on!” Dean shouts as he saunters into the map room, a bottle of beer teetering precariously on a wooden tray.
Revealed is a sparse plate of food, if Sam could call it that, and watches in disbelief as his brother takes a small swig of the bottle before giving it an approving hum.
“Uh, a half-drunk beer, some beef jerky, and three peanut butter cups?” The ‘meal’ is far more consistent to bygone days when Dean was barely a teenager, with barely enough money, scrounging up scraps in the pantry for anything edible.
“Yeah we’re…we’re running a little low…” He’s a bit embarrassed as Sam regards him tiredly. And it’s not like Sam means to turn on the puppy eyes; as a kid he knew he’d get whatever he wanted with his watery eyes. As an adult, however, it became more of a subconscious action, so he feels a bit bad when Dean goes timid, struggling against his superpower.
“I’ll make a run.” Dean looks downright contrite and quickly steps away to go to the store. Sam weakly chews on a few strips of jerky at least for his brothers’ efforts.
Castiel watches Dean’s retreating back with his patented head tilt and curious blue eyes, as if mulling over a riddle. He seems to find the answer as he looks back at Sam with a self-satisfied expression.
“What?” Sam can’t help but feel like an ant under a microscope against those striking eyes.
“It’s endearing how he always does that.”
“Does what?”
“Tastes your food. As if to make sure he isn’t accidentally poisoning you.” Cas says it as if he’s sounding out each word to a child.
Sam went still, taking in his words. He knew about Dean going hungry at times, it had become a point of contention when he turned 17 and insisted Dean start taking care of himself too. Flat out refusing to eat until Dean ate something too. But a few hazy memories popped up in succession as he recognized Cas was right. Dean frequently took a bite of Sam’s food before handing over the plate. He always saw it as the annoying older brother ‘food tax’ but it now seemed so obvious.
“I see you never realized that.” His deep voice held no disdain, again donning that curious tone and head tilt.
“I guess I just never really thought about it. Dean’s always taken care of me, even when I didn’t want him to. It’s just how it is.” Sam looked down at his book, rubbing a page between his finger and thumb.
“Dean takes it very seriously. I’m curious, is only your brother allowed to feed you?”
“Wha-, of course not! Bobby fed us whenever we’d stay with him.” Sam’s brow scrunched at Cas’s question.
“But that was a trusted friend.”
“Uh, well when Jess and I moved in together she and I shared dinner duties.” Cas gave another knowing look.
“I see, I wonder what he felt exactly after you two began hunting together again. Knowing his neuroses as your caregiver, seeing you healthy and thriving without him probably affected his pride.” Sam’s stomach twisted.
It made sense, with how much their dad repeated his orders of ‘watch out for Sammy’. He practically brainwashed his brother. Dean surely was happy to see Sam doing well but his world and self-worth revolved around only one job, take care of Sam.
“He was a bit overbearing for a bit after Jess died.” Sam conceded. “We had to stop staying at motels with kitchens due to money. But, now that you mention it, I think he was choosing diners that offered more than just shitty burgers and stale fries.”
Castiel nodded, and Sam took in the primordial being’s features. He looked fondly at Sam, almost grandfatherly, and it carried a certain wisdom only someone thousands of years old would have. Cas wasn’t berating Sam for not recognizing things sooner, nor was he attacking Dean’s mental stability. He was simply fitting a stone into the foundation that made up the Winchester’s lives. Cas must’ve taken pity on Sam, or grew bored of the conversation, and went back to talking about the upcoming trials. But ever present in the back of Sam’s mind were his memories of Dean.
It was almost two hours later before Dean returned carrying several bags of fresh produce, meat, and pantry items; the once barren shelves now over flowed with their favorite foods and drinks. Sam suddenly pulled his older brother into his arms and kissed his cheek. Dean eased into the embrace, overlapping their hands across his navel before returning a peck to the corner of Sam’s mouth. Sam leaned their heads together and he belatedly realized they swayed ever so slightly to a silent rhythm.
‘’You good?” Dean assessed his pallid face. After Sam killed the hellhound, he had a perpetual scowl of concern.
“I’m fine Dean, no worse than yesterday when you asked.” Sam gave him an exasperated smirk and Dean only hummed, clearly unconvinced.
He burrowed his face into the crook of Deans neck, avoiding those sharp green eyes. Dean turned in Sam’s arms and, forcing him to lift his head, gave Sam a solid kiss before removing himself completely and going back to the fridge. Sometimes, Sam wished they could stay like that for eternity. And he had no doubt that their little corner of heaven was just that—existing in each other’s arms, never separating.
Dean pulled out ingredients for burrito bowls, a cutting board, and a kitchen knife. He could go back to the library, continue researching into what exactly ‘curing a demon’ meant, but as the trials wore his body down (and knowing these kinds of things never ended well) he had a vague notion he should enjoy his remaining time with his brother. So, he lowered himself into one of the kitchen chairs and watched Dean prepare their late lunch.
He’s made attempts to help in the kitchen but his brother always made excuses of Sam’s poor cooking skills or gigantor stature getting in the way, stating he cooked faster without a moose on the loose. Now with Cas’s words gnawing on his brain, he wondered how much this was just Dean’s protectiveness rather than Sam’s abilities (or lack thereof).
Making his way to the counter, he purposefully reached across Dean’s workspace and grabbed the fresh cilantro. He collected his own cutting board, knife, and a small bowl before chopping up the fragrant leaves.
“Thought we talked about you and the kitchen lil’ bro.”
“Dude, its cilantro, pretty sure I can manage. And me helping doesn’t change anything.” Dean quietly froze but Sam could practically hear the gears churning.
“Change what exactly?” He asked, his own ingredients abandoned as he studied Sam.
Sam revised every possibly answer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t looking to squabble, if anything he wanted to understand Dean better. But Dean was defensive about his big brother duties. And he seemed hurt whenever Sam took care of himself or someone else acted as caregiver. He scraped his cilantro pile into the small bowl and placed it by Dean’s board, laying his hand on top of Dean’s.
“You’ve always made it your lone responsibility to take care of me, in every way possible. It’s something I can’t ever fully repay, not in this lifetime or the next. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. I may not be as creative when it comes to food, honestly your meals rival even a few fancy restaurants, but I can help with smaller tasks. You’re not a failure just because I grew up.”
Sam nudged Dean’s chin with his knuckles, pulling him into a deep kiss. He moved to cup his jaw and licked his way into the receptive mouth. He gave a few slow kisses before pulling away, washed his hands, and went back to the table. If he tried preparing anything else, it would push Dean too far. Dean eyed his every move, his cheeks a dusty pink and his mouth slightly agape. He cleared his throat, looking a bit lost, but quickly returned to preparing their lunch. The quiet between them was tense but as the pan sizzled and the delicious smell of spicy meat wafted through the kitchen, the silence grew comfortable again.
Sam left the topic alone, opting to plan their next move regarding the trials and their progress with translating the tablet as they ate their food. Dean played a little bit of footsy under the table, and Sam was relieved that his brother wasn’t distancing himself. As he cleaned the dirty dishes, Dean swiftly kissed Sam’s cheek before running off to the garage, throwing a stuttered line about Baby needing TLC. It was his way of working through problems, particularly anything to do with feelings.
It was nighttime as Sam lounged in their bed, a novel in hand, when Dean joined him, freshly showered and wearing only his black boxer briefs. He slid under the covers and snuggled under Sam’s arm, his head resting against his chest with a calloused hand rubbing over his pec and collarbone. Sam gripped Dean closely and kissed the top of his head as he put his book away. He waited patiently.
“I get it ok.” Dean said after a while. “You’re not a child and you aren’t THAT bad in the kitchen. You know as well as I that dad had…expectations. And it ain’t been easy overcoming them.” Dean’s voice was solemn, barely a murmur. Sam breathed an agreement, not wanting to interrupt his brother. Whenever Dean opened up, it worked best to let him get all his thoughts out first.
“I’m not sure it’s ever gonna go away; I could try to lighten up a bit, but I can’t stop taking care of you. Your safety will always be my number one priority, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve let you—and dad—down if I fail that responsibility in any way. Even something as stupid as making your own food.” Dean hadn’t looked at Sam at all, his eyes resolutely downcast focused on a tiny mole on his chest.
“I’m not asking you to stop. We’re walking trauma and bad decisions, and I think we’ve made good progress on some of the shit dad put on us, especially you. Honestly though? I like knowing I’m special because my macho big brother feeds me and taste tests my food for poison.” Sam chuckled lightly as Dean jerked his head up, his eyes wide with shock.
“I don’t—” He stopped and his face flushed a furious red. “Ok maybe I still double check the food. But only if I’m not a hundred percent certain it ain’t bad for you!”
“Afterall, the burrito bowls were monitored closely at all stages, I’m sure no poison got into my food.” Sam giggled and nipped Dean’s nose. “It’s really quite cute.”
Dean gaped before hiding his face into Sam’s sternum with a growled ‘I’m not cute’, pinching Sam’s rib in the process. Sam yelped and then pinched Dean’s ass in return. Dean hissed a bite on his collarbone only for Sam to sneak spidery fingers in his armpit. The covers were kicked off and they lost a few pillows to the floor with the relentless pinches, tickles, and love bites before laying against each other in a heap. They gasped heavily, their napes feeling far too warm from the tussle.
Sam then roughly pulled Dean flush into his arms, and kissed a spot of sweat from his upper lip. He gave his shoulder a rough slap, and then clicked off the lamp. The room was swallowed in darkness except for a sliver of light under the door from the hallway. They laid in silence for a while, listening to each other’s breathing calm down.
“I’ll do my best to share the load.” His voice was shy yet determined. “But the same goes for you. I don’t like what these trials are doing to you. You’ve lost weight you didn’t have and you’re sleeping more than me. Don’t play tough just because I get all mother-hen on ya.”
Sam huffed a laugh and clutched his brother even closer.
“Deal.”