AN: So I was talking to my 6 year old nephew today and I remembered that tomorrow (today?) May 2nd is Sammy's birthday, so I said this out loud. The conversation proceeded like this:
Me: Ooooh tomorrow is Sammy's birthday!
Nephew: Like, Supernatural's Sammy?
Me: Yes!
Nephew: Oooh! I hope he gets a puppy!
And the kid was so excited, and it was the cutest thing ever. So then I had to write this little fic because it was too adorable to pass up. So yea, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAMMY!
Warning: This is going to contain a few vague Season 8 spoilers.
AN: EDIT: also, just to be clear this takes place a year in the future (so it would be Sammy's 31st birthday, as opposed to his 30th which is this year. Just to clarify!)
Happy Birthday, Sammy
It was unseasonably warm for May as Dean pulled the Impala up to the Man of Letters bunker. No; he thought, home. This was home now. Dean shook his head and allowed a half smile to creep up on his face. They had a home. Dean reached in the back of the Impala and grabbed the cake, it was perfect. It was a long rectangle, decorated with cliché sports balls, there was green 'grass' frosting, and the letters read "Happy Birthday, Sammy!" it looked like the cake of an elementary school student rather than a grown man. And that's what Dean loved about it.
He also reached into the car and grabbed a thick black leash, attached to a small German Shepard puppy, who went by the name of Timber. Dean thought it was a good name for a dog with soft brown fur and a strong poise. He knew that Sam would love the dog, and what better birthday present than a pet to keep the house warm?
As a general rule Dean was not a big fan of dogs, and of course cats made him puff up like a blow fish; but Sam, on the other hand, loved dogs. So, in keeping with Winchester tradition, Dean was sacrificing just a little bit, to make Sam happy.
He led Timber out of the car, made sure Baby was locked, and headed down into their hobbit hole.
Sam was on a bogus milk run – literally – that Dean sent him on to distract him for a few minutes so he could sneak the cake and Timber inside. He put the cake in the refrigerator and hid it under some old take out containers; it looked a little conspicuous, but it would do.
Dean collected the dog dishes he had just bought, the toys, and food, and carried them to his room while ushering Timber behind him.
He set up a dog paradise for Timber and Dean ordered the dog to "be good" before he closed the door tightly.
He heard the sound of a giant approaching and smiled; Sam was back. The smile still felt foreign on his face; it had been a long time since they had anything to smile about.
"Dean, we have a whole gallon of milk in here." Sam said, his tone clearly annoyed even though it was muffled by the refrigerator door.
"Oh, oops." Dean said casually as he tried to force Sam out of the kitchen. "Thanks for doing that anyway, should have had you pick up beer instead. Oh well. Why don't you go watch a movie or something? I'll make dinner."
Sam looked at Dean quizzically and frowned slightly. "You're being weird."
"Am not." Dean said with an exaggerated scoff.
Sam continued to stare at Dean like he was a new species that needed an explanation.
"Just go watch your soaps." Dean said, all but pushing Sam out of the kitchen.
Sam went, reluctantly, and Dean began making dinner. Not five minutes later Sam suddenly popped back into the kitchen.
"I know what this is!" he said, his tone a mixture of disbelief and humour.
"What?" Dean asked, coloring his voice with annoyance.
"It's my birthday! You're being weird because it's my birthday." he said, the realization that he was now 31 years old hitting him with the grace of a mack truck.
Dean looked away for a second and then shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yea. I wasn't sure if you'd want to celebrate or not. We've never really been the celebrating type."
Sam smiles, appreciating his brother; all they've been through together these past years, the trials, the hunts, the apocalypse, high points, low points – and let's be honest, there were a lot of low points – and somehow they made it through. They were all here, they were moving on. Sam took four large strides across the kitchen and enveloped his brother in a strong hug.
"I love you, Dean." he said, squeezing just a little for emphasis.
Dean closed his eyes and smiled at his brother, "I love you too, Sammy."
They pulled away quickly after that and cleared their throats, as though that would bring some manliness back into the room. "Well, I'm making you a birthday dinner at least." Dean said, going back to the stove.
Sam continued smiling, "Thanks." and he headed back into the other room to let Dean cook in peace.
()()()
Sam rubbed his stomach appreciatively, a rather Dean-like gesture. "That was really good Dean. I don't know how you learned to cook more than Spaghetti-o's but I approve."
Dean smiled at Sam's compliment even as pain twinged him slightly at the memory of his year with Lisa; he learned a lot of domestic things that year. He shook himself mentally as he stood up to clear the table. He got the cake out and lit some candles on it, bringing it out to Sam.
Sam smiled at the illuminated sweet and Dean's horribly off-key singing. He blew out the candles in one go and Dean set the cake down, handing Sam a large knife. "Cut the cake birthday boy. Oh, but I want the soccer ball."
"No way, that's got the most frosting."
"Alright, fine, birthday boy can have the soccer ball."
"Thank you." Sam said with an official nod.
Sam smiled and cut off two rather large slices, putting them on the plates Dean provided (giving Dean the slice with the large mound of black and white soccer ball shaped frosting).
As they consumed their cake, washing it down with large glasses of milk, there was a scratching noise and Sam's ears listened for it.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"What?" Dean knew of course it was Timber and he tried not to show his delight.
"Like, a scratching." Sam's eyes went from curiosity to panic when he heard it again, this time more forcefully. "You don't think it's a Hell-hound do you?" he asked, jumping up to grab the salt.
"Easy there Rambo, I'm sure it's just a squirrel or something." Dean said, taking the salt from Sam's hand. "We closed the gates remember? Nothing in, nothing out."
Sam relaxed a little and followed Dean toward the scratching. Soon a soft whimper and a tiny bark accompanied the noise.
"That is definitely a dog." Sam said.
"Not just any dog." Dean smirked as he opened his door and Timber came bounding out, jumping around excitedly. He nuzzled Dean's legs affectionately and jumped right up on Sam, he was powerful for a little thing.
Sam smiled at the dog and bent down to his level, scratching his ears and belly.
"Who's dog is this?" he looked up at Dean curiously.
"Yours." Dean said, his smile no longer hidden.
"What?"
"His name is Timber. He's yours. I just got him from the shelter this morning." Dean explained.
"Really? You. . . you got me a puppy?" Sam's eyes shimmered, not with tears so much as an intense emotional gratitude.
"I figured you need something to entertain you, now that we don't really hunt or anything." Dean tried to say this like it's no big deal, but he's secretly worried that Sam won't like the dog, or that he'll think it's not a good idea.
Sam stands up and embraces his brother for the second time that day. "Okay, Captain Huggy." Dean rolls his eyes but he loves that his brother is this happy.
"Thank you."
Dean realizes he's getting choked up over two simple words, but he guesses it's more than that. The thank you comes from years of saving each other's asses and being the only two people they could count on in a world gone to shit. That Thank You came from absolution.
"You too." the words get caught in Dean's throat and he tries to clear it to try again, but he doesn't have to. Sam gives one final squeeze and backs off. The moment is over. That was all the closure they needed on the subject.
"So, Timber, wanna go for a walk? Do ya boy? Come on!" Sam's face lights up as he looks around for the leash and hooks Timber too it. "Want to come?"
Dean smiles and nods, "Yea. Let's go."
The three head out of their house, leaving the dishes in the sink, they can wait; they'll be home soon.
()()()()
End. AN: Thanks for reading everyone! Sorry if there are spelling/grammar mistakes, I edited it but I'm sure I missed things. And Happy Birthday again, Sammy! :D