It's Not a Birthday Without a Cake.
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Sam couldn't hold back a snort as the extremely pissed-off voice of his big brother echoed its way from the kitchen, violating the silence of the library.
Dean's string of expletives would have made a fish-wife proud, but that the cause of such energetic cursing was the unwillingness of a chocolate cake to comply with the elder Winchester's wishes, was alarming to say the least!
If anyone had told Sam he'd be sitting in a place of their own, listening to Dean getting upset because the cake he was set on baking had just collapsed into a flat pancake when he'd opened the oven door, would ever be a reality, he'd have laughed his ass off.
But here they were!
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Dean had insisted (completely ignoring Sam's pursed lips and frowny expression. Sam hated to even remember his birthday, let alone celebrate it!) that he was generously going to make a three-tiered vanilla-layered cake in respect of the disturbing fact that his idiot little brother had the bad taste to prefer cake to the deliciousness of pie. A failing Dean would never understand, for nothing in the world was better than pie, even if sex came in a very very close second!
Sam still struggled with this unexpected discovery of Dean's domestic streak.
Sure his big brother had fed and tended to him as a child but it had been forced on Dean by the shitty circumstances Fate had assigned to the Winchesters.
To actually see his bad-ass, fearless big brother enjoy cooking was something else entirely.
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Dean stalked determinedly out of the kitchen and made a bee-line for his brother.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, dude," he growled into Sam's surprised face. "You're sending out bad vibes; sabotaging my efforts to bake a cake for your birthday. Just stop right now or I'll clock you one!"
Sam's lips went to curl up in a lop-sided smile at Dean's outburst but said smile was nipped in the bud by the glare in Dean's eyes.
"You can't be serious, Dean!" Sam exclaimed fazed. "You really think I would sabotage your cake? Come on man, that's ridiculous. It's not as if I'm psychic or anything."
Dean raised his eye-brow until it practically merged with his hair-line.
"Well, okay," Sam amended sheepishly. "I'll rephrase that. I was psychic once, but not any more and even so I still wouldn't have wasted my mojo on ruining your cake!"
"You've always hated to celebrate your birthday," Dean scowled, studying him suspiciously. "And there's no proof that freaky brain of yours isn't still active."
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Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean always accused him of being worse than a bull-terrier, of never letting go of something until it was resolved to his satisfaction, but Dean was just as bad, for when got an idea in his head, he tugged and worried at it forever.
"I've never had any more visions. The psychic/ demon blood crap definitely disappeared with Lucifer and the Cage." Sam insisted, trying to appeal to Dean's logical side.
"Maybe, maybe not," Dean grumbled, sitting down opposite him.
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"Oh, great. You're good with me still being a freak. Thanks for that Dean!"
Dean smiled sweetly at him. "Sammy you've always been a freak, but you're my freak and I wouldn't want you any other way than your broody, bitchy, sasquatch self!"
"Huh," Sam huffed, slightly mollified. "You didn't always see it like that."
"So, " Dean shrugged. "Maybe we've had our differences in the past over minor details, but you gotta know..." he hesitated wondering if he should stop here or overstep into chick-flick territory. Against his better judgment he continued. "...how important you are to me, Sam."
Sam felt a flush tingeing his cheeks.
"Dean, I..."
"it's okay, Sammy. You don't have to say anything. Just know that after nearly thirty years of looking out for you, I'm ready for another thirty, that is if we ever live that long! You're the only one I'd spent my time fighting with flour, eggs and sugar to bake a cake for, so that's gotta mean something, dude!"
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Dean pushed back the chair, reached over and tousled Sam's hair, eliciting a bitch-face from his brother.
"That's my Sammy. Bitch-facer extraordinaire." he chuckled.
"Now I'm gonna go back in there, salt and burn the disaster that came out of the oven and keep trying until the freakin' cake comes out like I want it to, and if you don't stuff your face with chocolate birthday-cake in appreciation of all my hard work, I'll whup your ass!" Dean admonished.
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Sam rolled his eyes again. Before long they would be spinning like tops, if he wasn't careful!
However much he preached they were equal partners now and that each had the other's back, Dean would never relinquish his role of big brother and Sam would just have to deal, but he felt privileged to be the object of Dean's love, a love reserved solely for him, a love that had made him sell his soul for his little brother.
And though it had set them on the road to more pain and suffering, Sam felt warm and cherished, secure in the certainty that Dean would never have done it for anyone other than him.
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He smiled as he patted his hair back into some semblance of order and swore to himself that he'd eat the whole damn cake just to please Dean, even if he ended up puking it all up later!
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The End