December 29th, 2019

free fall

infamati et obliterati: 15x04

At the end of the day, my true heart's desire really just amounts to Winchesters using furniture the wrong way and eating stuff and doing things completely without regard for the hours of a normal human day. That is... yeah, that's accurate. That's pretty much it. But I also love the sad quiet b-roll where Sam and Dean have the opportunity to come apart a little in the bunker, because they can technically do so without dying. <3__<3

Takes place immediately after 15x03. ~2400 words.






The first few days back, Dean gives him breakfast in bed. Dean probably doesn't have the reference for that, doesn't recognize that's what it is, but that's what it amounts to, frankly. The breakfasts are, in order:

- A wilted Caesar salad from a diner in Harlan, Kansas ("I'm sure they were thrilled to see you again," Sam says. But apparently they hadn't recognized Dean at all, he'd been that scarce during the entire operation. Small miracles. Other than that, Harlan is fine, by Dean's standards, but it's having trouble filling its sheriff position, now vacant. The residents are worried this will cause an uptick in petty crime.)

- A gas station Cobb, with the dressing on the side this time, so it's less wilted ("Newsflash, Sam. Bacon bits aren't real bacon, either. It's rabbit poop." A pause. "Kinda carnivorous rabbits.")

- The exact same gas station Cobb, but with black walnuts from a Whole Foods in Omaha.

"Buying black walnuts, obviously," Dean replies, when Sam asks him what the hell he was doing in Omaha.

"Romantic gesture," says Sam. He looks at his watch. It's 10AM. "So you just… woke up in the middle of the night and didn't have anything better to do than drive to Omaha?"

"Look, do you want your leaves or not?"

Truthfully, Sam has never in his life woken up and craved a salad out the starting gate. 'Crave' might be a strong word to describe his relationship to salad, ever. But if it will get Dean out of his bedroom right now, Sam will marry this romaine.

"Thanks," he says. But Dean stays.

"What, you're gonna watch me eat now?"

"Ran out of British Bake Off."


--


Sam needles his fork at the mound of bacon bits in the corner of his salad container. It's not that he doesn't want Dean around. Aside from having told an overly long story about Whole Foods not having been open when he got there, Dean's not actually interacting with Sam at all. Just sitting. Existing. Drinking a 10AM beer. Though from the sound of it Dean hasn't actually gone to sleep yet, so maybe it qualifies as a nightcap.

Dean snorts. "Yeah, I don't think that's how that works."

But Dean sits, and Sam sits. Sam checks his phone. It's like old times, or close to. Sharing silence until Sam gets restless. It just feels weird, to think too hard when Dean is in the room like that. To think about Rowena, about Jack, about failure, about the world. It feels too big, too private.

Dean knows exactly what he's doing.

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