Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural. I'm just having a bit of fun with the characters.
FRENCH TOAST
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Sam's nose twitched in his sleep. It twitched again as an enticing aroma continued to seep under the bottom of the door. His eyes slowly blinked open. He took a deep breath, further inhaling the tantalizing scent. His stomach rumbled in response.
He stiffly rose from his bed, ran a hand through his bedhead hair, pulled up his pajama bottoms that had dropped dangerously low on his hips, and padded barefoot toward the kitchen. Rubbing sleepily at his eyes, Sam stifled a yawn and called to Dean who was standing in front of the stove. "Something smells really good. What's going on?"
Dean turned from the stove, a big smile decorating his face. He looked at Sam, who somehow managed to look like a sleepy five-year-old despite his size and held up a plate. "French Toast!"
"French Toast?" Sam shuffled to the table and dropped into a chair. "You haven't made that in a long time. In fact," one of Sam's eyebrows arched toward his hairline, "you only used to make it for me when you had bad news. So what is it? What's the bad news?"
"What? Nothing!" At Sam's skeptical look, Dean snorted and shook his head. "Sam, there's no bad news!"
"You swear?"
"I swear."
Sam studied his brother's face closely. "So what's the occasion?"
"No occasion. It's just French Toast," Dean shrugged, "It sounded good to me so I thought why not." He turned around and began piling the thick golden brown slices on Sam's plate. He slapped some butter on top, then sprinkled the French Toast with powdered sugar and drizzled warm maple syrup on top in a crisscross pattern. Pleased with his offering, he turned back to the table and placed the plate before his brother.
"Just call it French Toast ala Dean."
Sam gaped at the gigantic stack of breakfast goodness in front of him. "Dean, I can't eat all this!"
"Sure you can, Sammy. It'll be good for you; you've been getting too skinny lately."
"But…"
"Eat!"
"You're having some too though, right?"
Dean grinned. "Of course. Just gotta get it cookin'. Want some coffee first?"
Sam nodded and watched Dean fill a mug and place it before him. "Thanks."
"Dig in."
Not having the wherewithal to deny the alluring scent any longer, Sam picked up his fork and cut into the giant stack. He took a bite. His eyes practically rolled back in his head. "Oh my God, Dean, this is incredible!"
Dean flipped his own slices of bread in the pan and glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Yeah! It's like indescribably good! What'd you put in here?"
Dean shrugged. "Oh, just a little of this and that."
"You didn't use any mysterious ingredients from the vault, did you?"
"No, dumbass. I used normal stuff, like eggs, vanilla, cinnamon…although there was this one weird spice-looking powder in the cupboard…I've never seen anything like it before. I threw some of that in."
Sam stopped chewing. "You didn't!"
Dean laughed as he placed his own, equally loaded, plate on the table and dropped into the chair across from Sam. "No, I didn't. I was just joking around."
"Oh." Sam quickly resumed eating. It wasn't long before his fork was scraping the bottom of the empty plate.
"I thought you said you couldn't eat all of that?" Dean said around a mouthful of bread, egg, and syrup.
"I didn't think I could." Sam leaned back in his chair and patted his slightly distended belly. "But damn, that was good."
"Want some more?"
"No! If I eat any more, I'll be comatose the rest of the day."
"You know," Dean leaned back and patted his own overly-full belly, "that wouldn't be such a bad thing, right? I mean, after the past year we've had—hell, the past 10 years—we deserve a day of R&R."
"Well, when you put it like that…"
"Let's do it." Dean stood and began to clear the table. "Wait till you see what I'm cooking for lunch!" Dean turned toward the sink and smiled. It was good to see his brother eat.
FIN