Hello again! Well, this story has become much longer than I had thought in advance.
I got this idea from one of my lovely reviewers. They commented on how it would be great to see Jack trying to cook for Sam, and thus, this story was born!
This story can be seen as a continuation of my story "Warm Milk and Honey."
Not beta'd. All the mistakes are mine.
Hope you enjoy!
Jack was in the kitchen of the bunker, and he was trying to make hot chocolate for Sam. He also had bought nougat. (Who didn't love nougat?) Hot chocolate and nougat, to him it seemed the perfect combination to make someone happy, or at least, a little less sad. And Sam seemed sad all the time. Sometimes (when he thought nobody was looking) Sam looked like he was close to tears, but he never cried. At least, Jack had never seen him break down. And Jack understood—felt the pain that radiated from Sam. He felt it so keenly that it hit him every time—hard, and it hurt. Dean was gone and Sam was here, and he was in no way close to having a plan that would save his brother from the never-ending hell he was stuck in.
Before Jack had dared to start on the task of making hot chocolate, he first had asked Mary how to warm up milk. Warm milk with honey; it helps to get a person drowsy and comfortable. He has done his research. Warming up milk was fairly simple, and he was convinced that he would be ready to try making hot chocolate.
Sam at first had been surprised when he had brought the hot drink (with way too much honey) to his room, but the little smile that Jack had gotten was worth everything. The hard lines that were currently sporting Sam's face had been smoothed out, even if it was just for a moment.
So now he was making this other hot drink for Sam, that according to Castiel, a lot of people loved. It was completely new to him, but he knows how chocolate tastes, and the candy was supposed to be comforting and uplifting (also part of his thorough research) and therefore, it was the perfect drink to make for Sam, coupled with nougat, it would be even more perfect.
Up to now, he's doing fairly okay. He spilled some chocolate milk on the kitchen counter and nearly broke a mug, but nothing disastrous has happened.
He's nearly done, the only thing that's left to do is pouring the hot liquid into two big mugs. One for Sam, and one for him.
But then, here's where it all goes wrong. He accidentally burns his hand on the hot surface of the pot he's using, and with a yell, he lets go, causing the pot to clatter to the ground, the hot chocolate coating the ground, splattering the furniture.
It hurts, the pain is fierce, and for a moment he hears nothing but the loud pounding of his heart.
"Jack?! Hey, what—" Then Sam is there, standing in the doorway, brow furrowed in worry, scanning the kitchen in confusion.
He turns to Sam, an apology on his lips. "I-I'm sorry, I wanted to make hot chocolate for you, I thought it would make you feel a little bit better. I-I wanted to help you!" He nearly shouts that last part in frustration, hot tears building up behind his eyes. Angrily he swallows them back. No crying, this is your own fault.
All of a sudden Sam is next to him, gripping the arm with his wounded hand.
"Did you hurt yourself?!" Sam is already examining the red, swollen flesh. His hand pulses painfully in time with his heartbeat. "We need to take care of this, quickly." Sam steers him towards to sink and opens the tap, testing the temperature. "Keep your hand under the water, I'm going to get the first aid kit, you good?"
And Jack nods, hissing when the tepid water hits his burned hand.
"Okay, stay here, I'll be right back."
And gone is Sam, hurried footsteps sounding through the hall.
Jack waits, hand pulsing painfully, guilt and shame twisting his insides, making it hard to breathe.
Why? Why can't I just do one stupid little thing for someone else without messing it up? Why?!
He swallows, the rush of water sounding in his ears, he's trying really hard not to look at the mess at his feet.
The mess I made, again.
When Sam comes back with the first aid kit they both sit down. His hand gets wrapped up in white gauze, careful and gentle fingers taping off the edges.
After that Sam sends Jack away to his room, with painkillers and a glass of water.
"Take these pills and then rest, I will come to get you later, okay?"
Jack wants to ask why, but he doesn't dare. He wants to help clean up the mess. His mess. And when he protests Sam only shakes his head and smiles softly. It's not the good smile Jack wanted to see. It's the painful and sad smile. Not the good one.
It's about half an hour later when Sam comes to get him, Jack hears the soft footsteps down the hall coming up to his room. Quickly, he wipes away the tears on his face, not wanting Sam to know.
Sam guides him back to the kitchen, a hand warm and steady on his back.
When they arrive the kitchen is clean. There's nothing left from the disaster that took place mere an hour before.
"I'm sorry."
"Hey," Sam softly pats his shoulder. "Look at there."
And Jack feels his eyes widen. On the table stand two steaming mugs. Next to them lie the cubes of nougat. Hot chocolate and nougat—the perfect combination.
"Next time we will make hot chocolate together, okay?" Sam says. And at that, jack feels a rush of warmth run through him.
Hope fills his heart.
He turns to Sam, "okay! And then we'll again have nougat! Nougat and hot chocolate, it's the perfect combination!"
And at that, Sam smiles a real smile, the smile Jack has wanted to see for a while now. The smile that makes him all warm and fuzzy inside.
"Come," Sam says, "let's drink it before it gets cold. After all, hot chocolate is the best when it's still hot."
