WARNING: Spoilers for season eight in general, 9x23 "Do You Believe In Miracles", and 10x01 "Black".
Author's Note: This is to fulfill Otorisosa-kan's Title Prompt Exchange Writing Challenge. My title prompt was "Bed and Breakfast". This takes place during the gap between seasons 9 and 10. Enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
For Sam, the Bunker has become a minefield.
Every day he walks within its walls he risks stumbling upon something that will cause an eruption of memories to tear him apart. It's happened a few times; enough that he's made a mental map of the parts of the Bunker he should avoid.
Dean's room is top of this list for obvious reasons. If it wasn't enough of a deterrent that Sam had last seen his brother laying there in the bloody stillness of death, then the many times he had watched Dean relaxing in his room with his MP3 Player or cleaning the space with an attention to detail he usually only offered his car… All of those memories were housed in that room too, just waiting to blow up in Sam's face upon entry, and he had learned that the blast was never pleasant.
Other places, like the seat at the head of the library's table where he drank himself into a stupor the night of Dean's death-turned-disappearance, had surprised him with their explosive power.
Yet despite Sam's best efforts to steer clear of danger zones he is constantly discovering new emotional bombs, and always too late.
For instance, he was only digging through the cupboard under the kitchen sink because he thought Dean had stashed some extra paper towels down there, and he needed some after having knocked a mug of coffee over while eating breakfast.
Instead of the disposable wipes, however, an inspection of the cabinet's contents revealed a large wooden object; a thick rectangular slab of varnished dark wood with ornate handles rising from its ends to promote ease of carrying, and slats of wood underneath to hold the platform steady when set down across someone's lap. There was even a circular pit in the top corner of the surface where a glass could easily be held stable through transport.
Sam has no idea where Dean had acquired the elaborate tray, but he does know what the elder man had used it for…
OoO
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
The cheerful greeting interrupted the fitful sleep Sam had been clinging to and he grumbled, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.
Blinking to clear the blurriness from his eyes, Sam soon took notice of his older brother approaching his bed.
"Dean, what're you…?" Sam began to inquire as soon as he realized the elder man was carrying a large wooden tray covered in…
"Breakfast, Sam. I'm giving you breakfast in bed because every time I let you do your own thing for food in the morning, you skip the meal altogether," Dean explained as he gently-but-firmly placed the wooden meal tray across Sam's lap, not giving the younger man a chance to wiggle out of the situation.
Sam glanced down at the assortment of toast, bacon, and eggs Dean had provided him with, and the light steam still wafting upward from the foods that verified Dean had made them all fresh. There was a glass of grape juice sitting in a drink slot on the tray as well, and a mug of coffee carefully balanced on the platter as well. A napkin and silverware were tucked up against the side of the tray in what little space remained.
"I don't care if you don't eat it all, but you will eat something, alright?" Dean asserted in his best paternal tone which Sam recognized all too well.
Sam immediately wanted to gripe; to complain that pulling a 'bed and breakfast' so he could force food down Sam's throat and satisfy his urge to feel like a caregiver was a ridiculous move on Dean's part… But when Sam turned towards his brother to do so, he caught a glimpse of something in the other man's eyes and he stopped himself.
It wasn't a look of pride like Dean was pleased with his scheme. It wasn't even a look of determination like he was prepared to fight Sam until he ate…
It was an expression of blatant concern.
Sam confronted the reality that Dean wasn't playing caretaker; he quite simply cared.
He cared that Sam hadn't been eating enough. He cared that Sam had lost weight. That the younger man complained of frequent headaches, and tremors in his hands, and dizzy spells… He cared that Sam wasn't alright and he wanted to do anything possible to help, even if that meant making a fuss about getting Sam to eat his breakfast by preparing a small feast and serving the entire thing to him in his bed.
Dean was still staring intently at Sam, waiting for the younger man to either dig in or throw a fit, and suddenly Sam couldn't muster the desire to do the latter.
He picked up one of the slices of buttered toast and took a bite, ignoring the way his headache diminished his appetite.
Sam saw a flicker of relief in Dean's eyes as he began chewing and the younger man felt a twinge of gratitude that, however strange his sibling's methods of showing it might be, Dean always had his best interests at heart.
OoO
Sam stares at the breakfast tray and feels an unwelcome rush of heat that causes his eyes to sting and makes swallowing difficult.
In the solitude of the Bunker's kitchen, yet another mine goes off.
Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you have a moment please do leave feedback. It's always appreciated. :D Also, if you're interested in participating in Otorisosa-kan's Writing Challenges, check out the link on her profile or send her a PM.