One Year Later
"Sammy? I'm home!" Dean calls as he steps over the threshold. He drops his duffel next to his hockey gear on the floor by the front door and heads down the hallway towards the kitchen. His sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor and he winces, knowing Sam would be annoyed with him for wearing shoes in the house. He goes back to the doorway and toes his shoes off onto the rug. Turning, he sees Sam standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
"You're baking?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow and giving Sam's flour covered apron a once-over. He's got a piece of dough in his hair. "Pie?"
"Yeah. Or, I'm trying to."
"What did you break?" Dean asks, crossing his arms. "You never bake."
"I didn't break anything! What, I can't bake for my boyfriend when he gets home from a long week of away games?" Sam replies sarcastically, also crossing his arms.
"The last time you baked it was because you threw the wii remote through the flat screen playing baseball. The time before that you backed your truck over the mailbox. And when you dropped my iPod in the pool you-"
"Alright, alright," Sam cuts Dean off, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He takes another step closer to Dean. "But I promise I didn't break anything. How was the flight?"
"It was good. Slept for most of it. Come here." Dean and Sam meet in the middle of the hall, arms wrapping around each other's waists. "Six days is too many. I missed you."
Sam bends slightly and presses three quick kisses to Dean's cheeks, across the dusting of freckles that spans the bridge of his nose. In return, Dean kisses both dimples on Sam's cheeks. They always save these special kisses for when Dean comes home from a long trip.
"Okay, so maybe you were right about the pie." Sam pulls back slightly, and Dean cocks his head, waiting for the rest, a resigned expression on his face. "Just hear me out. I know how you feel about it, but it's not for very long. And, I couldn't resist." Sam gives a quick whistle, and Dean groans.
Out of the living room bounds a huge German Shepherd. It skids to halt at Sam's feet and immediately sits. Sam unwraps himself from around Dean's waist and squats, rubbing the dog's head. The dog whines as it bounces and wags its tail.
"This is Sarge. Dean, you should have seen him. He was abandoned, tied to a fence in some back alley. The Humane Society found him. He just needs a foster home. Just for a couple more weeks, until he's back in full health and finished with the antibiotics. He's totally housebroken and trained. Can we please keep him? Please?!" Sam finishes his speech, which he had definitely not been rehearsing for the last two hours. He's now sitting cross-legged on the floor, and the dog has crawled his way onto Sam's lap. Dean frowns down at the pair of them, trying to hold in his laughter as Sarge tries to eat the dough from Sam's hair.
"He is NOT sleeping in the bed with us," Dean finally concedes, bending down to rub the top of the dog's head. Sam beams up at him, wrapping his arms around the dog's neck and squeezing it against his chest.
"Thank you! Hear that, Sarge, you can stay!" Dean finally chuckles as the dog licks his tongue from Sam's chin to his hairline.
The dog lays quietly between their feet as Sam and Dean eat dinner at the kitchen table.
"Well, at least he's well trained," Dean admits over his slice of Pecan pie. Sarge had remained quiet the entire meal, never leaving his post under the table. Most dogs would be begging for their food.
"Yeah, I guess whoever had him sure put some time into training him. I don't get why they would leave such a gorgeous dog to die like that. He's gained so much weight since he got here. You should have seen the poor guy," Sam tells him, his voice cracking a little bit.
"It's okay, Sammy. He's in a good place now. And I'm sure they will place him in a great
home once he's all better."
"I know," Sam replies, giving Dean a small smile.
"Did you name him Sarge?"
"Yeah. He didn't have a name at the shelter, and he's so well trained; it seemed fitting," Sam says with a shrug.
"I like it. Good strong name," Dean replies.
"Hey, let's take him to the park. Unless you're too tired?" Sam asks, considering the fact that Dean had just had a very long flight back from New York.
"Park sounds good to me," Dean says, pushing away his empty plate. Sam jumps up from the table, and Dean laughs as he follows suit. Sarge bounces after Sam as the three of them head to the front door, pausing only to slide on their sneakers. Sam grabs a baseball bat and ball from the front hall closet and they are out the door.
"Doesn't he need a leash or something?" Dean calls from the front porch and Sam and Sarge pad down the front walk.
"Nope! Come on!" Sam reaches the sidewalk and pats the side of his leg. Dean watches as Sarge immediately takes his place right beside Sam. Sarge never leaves Sam's side as they walk to the park, Sam's fingers laced between Dean's, the baseball bat over his shoulder. "See, he's a great dog."
"Babe, I already said he can stay, you don't need to keep trying to convince me," Dean says, laughing and bumping his shoulder against Sam's. They reach the park at the end of their street and head for the small baseball diamond.
"Watch this," Sam tells Dean, letting go of his hand and pulling the baseball out of his jacket pocket. He steps away, clicking his tongue at Sarge. The dog assumes his position, standing next to Dean, nose forward, one paw in the air, as though he's about to take flight. Sam tosses the ball up in the air then cracks it with the bat, sending it flying sky high towards the outfield. Sarge takes off running, faster than any dog Dean's ever seen. He lets the ball bounce once, then leaps into the air and catches it, immediately running back towards Sam.
"Woah, he's fast," Dean admits with a low whistle. Sam's beaming as Sarge runs up to him, dropping the ball at Sam's feet and bouncing in anticipation.
They spend the next hour in the park, until Sarge finally shows some signs of slowing down. Sarge walks next to Dean as they slowly head back home, enjoying the slight chill of the night and the cloudless sky full of stars.
When they finally climb into bed, Sarge dutifully lays down in front of the bedroom door, nose poking out into the hallway, as if he's guarding them. When Dean gives Sam a quizzical look, Sam just shrugs before rolling onto his side and curling himself around Dean's back.
"Missed you," he whispers against the back of Dean's head. Dean pulls Sam's arms tighter around him as he settles against the pillows.
"Missed you more."