Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Sam kept glancing at the clock above his classroom's door, urging it to go faster. School was almost, almost out for the week. He knew his older brother Dean would be waiting outside to pick him up.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Sam let out a sigh. He leaned his elbow on the desk, cupping his cheek in his palm. Using his other hand, he began drumming his fingers upon the desk's laminate surface.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Sam began humming along to the beat he was making; "Do dododo, dododo do. . . ."
By the time he reached the chorus, he could feel the anticipation rising in the other students; it was a tangible feeling amongst the class. Along with his classmates, Sam could barely contain his jitters while waiting for the clock to take it's final ticks for the day.
Tick.
The noise of the clock's gears seemed to be going slower.
Tock.
Sluggishly, the hands moved until they showed two-thirty, when, finally:
Tic- RINGGGGGG!
Eagerly, the students jumped from their chairs, rushing over to their cubby's to grab their belongings. In the background, their teacher could be heard telling them to slow down, but no one paid her any mind; the weekend was here!
Walking quickly through the halls of his current school, Sam's face split into a grin. He could see Dean waiting at the door at the end of his grade's hallway.
"Dean!" He exclaimed, as he ran forward to hug his brother.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean chuckled, ruffling Sam's mop of hair. 'I'll need to give him a haircut soon; can't afford a barber'
"Dean! Guess what!" Sam excitedly bounced up and down, "I got Student of the Week!"
Inside, Dean's heart swelled; his baby brother made him so proud. "Good job, Sammy. How's about we celebrate?"
"What do you mean, Dean?" Sam gazed curiously at him with eyes of liquid hazel.
"Well, I recently came into a little money. . . Like, just enough to go get some ice cream. I mean, if you'd like to go get some, we could, but I'm sure you don't. Right, Sammy?" Dean asked patronizingly; he intended full well to get Sammy some ice cream.
"No! I want ice cream, Dean!" The little boy's eyes lit up at the prospect of a rare treat.
Dean let out a small chuckle and a slight grin. "Well, come on. Get your butt in gear; the ice cream shop is just around the corner."
Sam grabbed Dean's hand and began pulling him down the walk way.
In a few minutes, they reached a tiny shop nestled between some trees and a park. The shop was a darker shade of green, and had a light yellow sign that read, 'Sprinkles'.
Walking across the small, gravel parking lot, they reached the entrance. As the opened the door, a tiny bell rang.
"Do you know what flavor you want, Sammy?"
"Oooh, can I have the cheesecake ice cream, Dean?!" He asked, almost bouncing up and down where he stood.
"Sure, buddy," Dean said as he led them to the counter.
"Hello, welcome to Sprinkles. What would you like?" A brown-haired, teenage girl asked.
"We'd like one small cheesecake soft serve, and a small Death By Chocolate, please." Dean answered, handing her the money for their order.
Jotting the boys' order on her notepad, she took the money and told them that their ice cream would be right up.
Choosing a table in the corner, they sat and waited for their ice cream treat.
Sam gazed at a mural that was painted on the far wall. It was of the shop, and the surrounding area. It showed a bike trail; a boy on rollerblades, licking a raspberry cone; hot air balloons and mountains in the distance, topped with whipped cream and cherries.
Glancing up, Sam saw the brown-haired girl bringing their ice cream over.
"A cheesecake dish for you," She placed a white Styrofoam dish in front of Sam, "And a Death By Chocolate cone for you," The girl said, handing the waffle cone to Dean.
"Thank you," The boy's said in unison.
Sam gathered some of the soft serve onto his spoon, and tasted the cool treat.
"Is it good, Sammy?"
"Yep! How's your's, Dean?"
Dean took a lick of the chocolate scoop, "Mmm, it's real good."
The two brothers sat in a companionable silence for awhile while eating their desserts.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"Thanks,"
Dean smiled, "No problem, Sammy."