Disclaimer, Summary & Rating: See Chapter 1
I THOUGHT I SAW
Chapter 21
Sam pulled off when he spotted a diner sign and found the parking lot had several cars in situ but the place wasn't heaving with people. There were several picnic type table set out in the sun away from the main diner. Sam pulled into the most discreet parking bay he could and got out, holding the door so Dean could flow past him, cat holding its drinking bowl in its mouth.
"Wait by one of the tables, I'll bring it out," he instructed.
Going into the diner, Sam grabbed a large tray and joined the line; glancing out of the plate glass windows he saw nothing for a moment and than a large feline shadow vaguely cast on a wall between the Impala and the car next to it. He relaxed slightly as Dean had the sense to remain hidden until having no choice. Sam piled two large plates with juicy, sauced-slathered ribs and creamed potatoes and purchased four large flat blacks and a large latte for himself and paid. He was almost out before he realised his personal latte lunch plot would be rumbled by Dean if he went out without any cutlery for himself, so had to swing back round and grab a knife and fork and napkins for props.
Carefully Sam carried the heavy tray outside but nearly lost it as he was jostled abruptly. The best sited picnic table had just come free as a family placed their garbage in the trash and left, and without so much as a glance at Sam whom he'd just shouldered aside, a grossly obese man in a white golfing shirt and plaid shorts – a truly hideous combination – waddled past straight for it, bearing a tray piled high with enough food to feed a family of ten for a week.
Any hope Dean had not seen the incident died when a large, feline shape suddenly bounded up onto the table top and sprawled full length along it. The fat man came to a dead halt and Sam carefully side-stepped the obstacle, biting his lip to stop from laughing as he took in the man's face on the way past – his podgy eyes bugged out of their sockets and his lower jaw had sunk deep into his fifteen chins. As Sam placed his tray on the table top near Dean, the panther turned and focussed its attention straight on the fat dude, giving a massive 'yawn'.
Sam flinched at the crash from behind him and turned to glimpse the man's starkly terrified face before the man managed to spin round fast for someone of that size and almost run off, the twin barrage balloons that formed his gargantuan butt bouncing like a Baywatch Babe's boobs in the opening credits above short, bloated little legs as he reached a motorhome and yanked frantically at the door before squeezing his grossly swollen form inside and slamming the door, driving off in a series of jerky little hops.
Well, why not? The dude's tray had hit the blacktop with a crash but apart from a few casualties at the peripherals, at least $30 worth of hot, fresh food was unharmed.
Heaving the tray up with no little effort, Sam took it back to the table and gave his best 'cute' smile at a couple who were sat at the nearest table, their eyes fixed on the panther, frozen with baguettes partway to their mouths.
"Shame to waste it," he shrugged, placing the tray so Dean could stretch out on the table top and tuck in.
The breakfast bowl was on the seat so he placed it next to the tray as Dean ate the free lunch and poured the flat blacks in. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the couple, as if shaking off a hypnotic trance, clearly eating their own food on autopilot, their fascinated gazes never leaving the leopard, and Sam was pleased that Lucy Sullivan had taken the time to make Dean feel at ease having to eat in his current state.
Not that Dean ate like a real leopard with tearing and gulping abandon. He would curl that sandpaper tongue round a choice morsel whip it back into his mouth similarly to a chameleon's tongue or gently close his front teeth around a portion and almost daintily nibble at it. Nevertheless, in less than a minute, the tray was empty and the plate licked to glistening pottery, while Dean lapped up some of the coffee with a purr of pleasure as Sam pushed the other tray towards him.
"This is all the coffee you're getting," he mock-scolded, "After today you're way too hyper as it is."
The panther curled a lip and with one powerful crack that split the bone, had half the ribs into its mouth. Dean tilted his on one side thoughtfully after a minute or so and then turned his head towards the trashcan, narrowing his eyes. Abruptly a rib bone shot from his mouth to land dead centre inside the trashcan.
Sam laughed, "Cool!"
Shifting position slightly, Dean concentrated and in rapid succession fired now bare rib fragments as if from a peashooter with perfect accuracy into the trashcan.
"Nothing but net!" Sam congratulated him, raising his latte in toast as Dean ate the rest of his ribs and then fired the remains into the trash.
As Dean polished off the potatoes, Sam gave a theatrical sigh and pushed his own ribs over. "Go on, you know you want to."
It almost worked; Dean's head dipped before the cat froze suddenly and moved back from the meat, its eyes flickering round the table to register it had eaten all the fat man's food and its own, while Sam had ingested half a cup of latte coffee. The tray was pushed back towards him with a little growl.
"I'm okay with the potatoes." Sam refused, pushing the tray back.
The growl edged to a snarl and was a clear command.
"Look, how about we split the ribs, half and half?" Sam offered, but didn't drop his gaze from Dean's, indicating he wasn't going to be bullied into eating the food.
A single reluctant nod so Sam took a knife and separated the ribs down the middle; Dean ate his but merely dropped the bones onto his plate, monitoring remorselessly as Sam ate the ribs; they were quite good but the sauce sat heavily on Sam's stomach and past experience of ignoring that 'borderline discomfort' warning sensation, only to be on his knees before the toilet vomiting back up semi-digested food an hour later, made him quit after only a third of the potatoes.
Dean growled agitatedly as Sam laid down his fork.
"It's okay," Sam laid his hand on Dean's neck and stroked soothingly, "I've never been the bottomless pit you are, man!" but the quip fell flat as Dean laid a paw on his arm in clear concern. "Sometimes I don't have that much of an appetite," Sam admitted, "but Dean – " he caught the panther's chin and looked directly in Dean's eyes, "I promise, this…this is the most I've eaten at one time in weeks. I am okay, I swear."
Slow nod, though Sam had no doubt that the subject of Sam's inability to eat much would be revisited when Dean was restored to human form. Forget panther, Dean should have turned into a giant mother hen.
Continued in Chapter 22…
© 2006, Catherine D. Stewart