I do not own "Supernatural".
Summary:
Dean makes Sam get ice cream with a slight dose of "Bad Day at Black Rock".
Prompt by miXiZ. Thank you!
I hope you enjoy.
Cheers,
Biensche
I Want Ice Cream!
"C'mon, Sam, please", Dean said as he lay on his back on the motel bed.
"Oh, stop that whining." Sam grumbled without turning his attention away from his laptop looking for the next possible hunt.
"Please, Sammy." Dean kept on complaining and batted his eyes. Dude, we can take the night off. You don't need to research anything. Shut that damn thing down.
Ever so slowly, Sam turned his head from the screen to his brother. "Dude, I'm not one of those chicks who fall for your eye-lashes or whatever. You can stop it." He finally said annoyed and looked back at the monitor.
"Hey, I'm injured. At least you could do me that favor!"
"As if that was my fault that you got hurt!" Sam replied.
"Well,", Dean paused dramatically, "actually, it was."
This really got him the attention of his younger brother. Sam's head snapped up and turned towards him. He even shifted in his stool at the motel table.
"What?" Sam asked irritated. His voice was a few pitches too high.
Dean did his best to not start laughing and bit the inside of his cheek. Oh, how easy I always get to you, Sammy.
"Yup." Dean nodded, "Your fault."
"H-how?" Sam was flabbergasted as he stared at Dean.
"If you had been quicker with that grave diggin' I wouldn't have had that unpleasant interaction with that spirit." Dean shuddered at the memory.
"Huh." Sam snorted and sat back, a little bit taken aback. Had Dean been hurt worse than he thought? He did not have an answer to that. So he was almost grateful as Dean spoke again.
"So, yes, that's your fault."
"Hey, it was your job to watch my back while I was diggin' and saltin' and burnin' that son of a bitch. So, it was your own damn fault that it got the drop on you." Sam replied now that he had enough time to think of something to say.
"What? No way!" Dean answered working on a new strategy to get Sam to feel guilty and go do what he wanted. He waited for a moment, then he shifted on the bed, closed his eyes and moaned.
"Hey, you okay?" Sam stood and rushed over. The worry was clearly evident in every move.
Oh Sammy.
"Yeah, think so." Dean replied in a pained voice and opened his eyes to his brother. Sam's face mirrored his concern and Dean almost felt guilty for playing him. Still, he was injured. He just did not hurt as bad as Sam probably assumed.
"Sure? Did he you get anywhere else?" Sam mustered his brother up and down. Dean's left eyebrow had received a cut when the spirit had attacked him in the graveyard and he had hit a tombstone. Now, the left side of his face sported a nasty colored bruise as well as the cut. "Maybe you got a concussion." Sam turned around and paced between the beds, his hands on his hips. "I should take ya to a hospital."
"No, no, I'm fine. I mean, nothin' a good night's sleep wouldn't cure, huh?" Dean stretched himself out on the bed in a new position trying his best to get comfortable.
No need for a hospital. You took good care of my injuries. Stop that mother-henning, Sam.
His younger brother watched him for a short moment, uncertain. Dean did not seem to hurt too bad now that he lay half on his side. He had taken some painkillers not too long ago and those should do their magic soon enough. The pain lines around his eyes had smoothed some already.
Sam finally gave in to his guilt. Maybe he was a tiny little bit guilty for that his brother got hurt. If he had been a little bit quicker with the lightning of the matches and tossing them into the opened grave?
"Alright, alright. I'll go." Sam threw his hands up in defeat. He walked over to his chair to grab his jacket from the backrest.
He missed the big smile on his brother's face as he left the motel room.
Oh, Sammy, you make it so damn easy.
Sam looked up and down the street and sighed. "Oh, dammit Dean. There's not even a supermarket."
They were stuck in the middle of nowhere. The only businesses here were this motel which was not even staffed the entire time and a gas station about a quarter mile down the street. Maybe they had a little shop there. He hoped.
Sam inhaled deeply, shrugged and was about to start his walk. A loud meow stopped his further movement. A small black cat stood before him and stared up at him with a look of reproach.
"Sorry." Sam muttered. He just had not seen this small bundle of cat crossing his path. The cat hissed before walking away proudly.
The man slumped his shoulders. Then he walked over to the gas station. Upon entering he saw a small freezer as well as one aisle with some bread and drinks. Sam grinned. More than he had expected to find here. He stood at the freezer.
"Vanilla cookie dough and cookies, strawberry cheese cake with dough core, peanut butter and coffee, eww", Sam pulled a face, "chocolate fudge with coconut. Huh." Nothing seemed too appealing to him. But Dean wanted ice cream. And he had gotten his little brother to go out and get ice cream.
Sam covered his already closed eyes with his hand while the other hand moved over the types of ice cream. In his head he counted to three. Wherever his hand was above that ice cream would come with him.
"Stop."
Startled, Sam uncovered his eyes and looked up at the man who had appeared next to the cash desk. He had not even heard him. Damn, that guy could have been anyone. Shit. Sam had let his guard down too much. Luckily, Dean had not been around to witness that. He would never have live his younger brother down.
"Thought you need some help there with picking in that multitude of four types of ice cream." The man said in excuse and shrugged.
Sam put on a false smile as a thanks all the while thinking how weird that clerk was and looked down at where his finger pointed. "Vanilla cookie dough." He picked it up, walked over to the counter and paid for it.
As he left the small shop and started his walk back he saw a vending machine with various bags of chips next to the entrance. He stopped and looked down at the ice cream pack. It almost felt like an insult to him. He shook at the nauseating taste that crept up his throat and wormed its way into his mouth.
Yikes, I'd rather take chips.
He rummaged in his pockets for the money and put it in the slot. Finally he punched in the number for the chips.
The tray moved. The tray stopped – before his bag dropped down.
"What? No!" He exclaimed and gave the machine a small shake but it did not help. Frustrated, he looked back to the desk where he had just paid for the ice cream but the man had vanished.
"Oh no." He sighed. He looked over the place but the man was gone.
Sam went back to the machine with the chips. He would just try it again. Again he put his money in and punched in another number.
The tray moved and stopped and did not drop his bag.
"What the…? You gotta be kidding me!" Sam gave the black automat a shove but nothing happened except for a short scratching sound that almost felt as if the machine was laughing at him.
"Great." He clenched his teeth. "All good things come in threes."
This time he took the same number as the first time. But the mocking machine did not even move the tray at all.
"This is stupid." Sam kicked the machine and stomped away. He had not even passed the pumps as the bags fell unseen by Sam.
Sam was angry. He had just wasted his money on a silly, damn vending machine for chips. This damn gas station only had four types of ice cream which all seemed offensive to your taste, Dean would not be happy with this choice. But at least he would get his frigging ice cream.
He was so engrossed in his rage he did not see the stone in his path. He bumped into it and tripped. All efforts to catch himself were in vain. His arms flailed hoping he would get his balance back but he tumbled and hit the ground face first. His knees scratched the tarmac as did his hands. That was when he realized that he had let go of the ice cream pack which had cushioned his upper body in the fall. The ice cream pack was crushed. His dark blue shirt was stained in vanilla white with some creamy dough spots. His hands and knees were red with scratches. At least his jeans had not ripped and he was not bleeding.
But he had spent money on even more food that now was inedible.
Awesome. Just frigging fucking awesome.
Inwardly, he cursed vividly while he picked himself up from the ground. He returned to the shop, grabbed another ice cream, put some money on the counter and left. At least that cashier did not show up. He did not want to meet that creepy man ever again.
Who the hell interfered when picking out ice cream? What a creep!
Sam stepped outside into the sun when his eyes met the offensive chips vending machine again and if it had been alive his blazing eyes had killed it instantly. He was seething with anger it almost bubbled out of him. What he did not realize was that his bags had dropped in the meantime.
He closed his eyes to get himself in check again and turned his face to the sun. Before he made his way back to the motel he breathed deeply for a few moments. Then he put on a fake smile and walked the short distance.
He stood in front of their motel room and reached for the knob to open the door when he felt it. Something had just dropped onto his shoulder. His eyes wandered to the viscous white spot. Then he looked up to the sky where he identified the evildoer: A dove had just landed on the roof in front of the motel room doors where it folded it wings and cooed. Sam would swear he could see it smile. Even with a beak. His jaw worked hard.
"Oh, this day just keeps gettin' better'n'better."
That's when his eyes fell upon a tiny black bundle curled up next to banister in the sun purring. "You!" Sam pushed out through gritted teeth as he remembered his earlier encounter with it. Knowing it was just a superstitious belief and a truly dumb one at that too - he couldn't resist to display his anger upon that small animal. At least that way he had someone to blame other than himself.
Eventually, he opened the door and got in. Dean still lay on his bed with his eyes closed, his hands where behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked incredibly relaxed and rested.
"Sammy, finally back? Took you long enough." Dean smirked without opening his eyes.
Sam's anger bubbled back to the surface but he tried to keep it in check. "Yeah." He replied curtly and dropped the ice cream onto his brother. Dean opened his eyes and shrieked in surprise while he sat up.
"Dude!" He yelped reproachfully and took the icy package from his stomach. Then he took in his brother's appearance. "What happened to your shirt? And you?"
"That!" Sam gestured furiously at the ice cream pack in Dean's lap.
Dean looked confused at Sam, then his shirt and finally at the ice cream. His eyes widened and he glared up at his brother.
"Vanilla?" He asked incredulously.
"Vanilla cookie dough", Sam corrected in a tight voice.
"Man, I wanted strawberry cheese cake!" Dean bawled.
"You wanted-?" Sam started but stopped midsentence. For a moment there was silence, then he shut his mouth with a loud clap of his teeth. This is not happening. This is not happening.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom leaving his brother to stare in bewilderment after him. Sam needed to clean himself and his clothes. And wash away this damn day.
Dean sat on his bed happily and spooned ice cream into his mouth. Vanilla cookie dough was much better than he had imagined. Not that he would tell his brother. Sam's face had been too priceless! He turned on the TV while savoring the sweet taste in his mouth.
After a while Sam stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed, clean and free of the anger that had been inside him for the past hour or two. After toweling off and putting on fresh clothes he opened the bathroom door where stopped dead in his tracks. The TV aired some chick flick which Sam just needed a few moments to recognize. Sam would have a ball with this.
The younger man leaned in the door frame and watched as his older brother sat the bed with his eyes closed using the spoon from his ice cream as a microphone and singing at the top of his lung.
"And I-I-I-I will always love you-ou."
Oh yes, that made up for all the inconvenience for getting that friggin' ice cream.
The End