“It’s ruined! Ruined! Why do bad things happen to good people? I’m a good person. Aren’t I a good person? Why? Why must I be punished?”
Dean came out of the kitchen, black smoke billowing out around him as he hurried in the direction of the smoke detector.
“Uh, is every–” the smoke alarm blared, cutting off the younger Winchesters’ question.
Dean took in a heavy sigh and waved a towel in front of it vigorously with both hands. Sam shot a look over to Gabriel before they sprung up, opening all the windows in the living room. Grabbing decorative pillows off the couch, they hustled over to help Dean wave away the smoke. Between the three of them, it wasn’t long before the thick haze began to clear and it looked like they might be able to salvage their evening.
And then the sprinklers went off.
Defeated, Dean scrubbed a hand through his now-wet hair, “Awesome.” Dropping the towel, he snagged a beer from the case on the coffee table in front of the couch. Twisting the cap off, he took a long pull from the bottle before making his way to the front door, disappearing outside.
“For the love of Liza Minnelli!” Cas stomped out of the kitchen, hair matting under the shower from the ceiling. He flicked some sopping hair out of his face as he spotted the two guests. He spread both arms wide, “Are you seeing this? Well, I hope everyone’s thirsty, because apparently? All we’re serving this evening is water. No, no champagne for us. We’re much too good for that.” He scrunched up his face in distaste, “Champagne, so boujee.” He flicked his sopping hair out of his eyes again, “So we’re trying something new. Isn’t that simply fabulous?” He laughed hysterically for a moment and then sobbed. His face crumbling into a pout, he put a hand over his heart, “I can’t. I can’t even. I mean, how am I meant to salvage this catastrophe? This would take more fabulous than the entire cast of Queer as Folk and The L Word combined. I could die. I could just die!”
Shoulders slumping, he ticked the items off on his fingers one-by-one, “Hors d’oeuvres? Burnt to a crisp! Wine? Out of stock. Out of stock. How could it be ‘out of stock’? It’s a ‘wine store’!” He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the floor, “And this. Just look at this. It’s like the last 2 minutes of the sinking of the Titanic in here. That’s it.” He threw his hands up into the air in defeat. “I’m done. I’m cancelling New Years!”
She pointed to the stairs, “I left the suit on the bed.”
He groaned before standing, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Why do I have to dress up?”
“Because they deserve it.” She looked around the rundown house and sighed, “It’s not like we have an abundance of holiday cheer in here.”
“I don’t-”
“For Gods’ sake, you told Dean about monsters this year!” She spun around, slamming the bottles down, “I want him to know that doesn’t mean there isn’t still good out there.”
John blinked at her in surprise, taking a few steps toward her before letting out a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair, changing directions, “O-okay. I’ll go.”
“Thank-you,” she picked the bottles back up before disappearing into the kitchen. “Be ready to leave in fifteen.”
“…Why?”
“You have to get Deans’ pie.”
He stopped halfway up the stairs, “You didn’t make one?”
She poked her head out of the kitchen doors, giving him a bewildered look, “I’m sorry, have we met?”
He chuckled before starting back up them, “Right. Sorry.”
—
“Well? Whaddya say?” Mary held out the box of decorations, smile plastered on her face.
“Hell yeah!” Dean snatched the box, before running over to the undecorated tree, thousand-watt smile lighting his features.
Sam shook his head before joining his brother, digging out a box of big, blue glass bulbs.
Dean dug out the garlands, wrapping it around his hand before using it as a whip, chuckling, “Hey look! I’m Indiana Jones!”
Mary chuckled and shook her head, “Be careful with those, Dean.”
Sam smiled as he placed a bulb on the tree, “This is awesome, Mom! Just like I always imag-” he cut himself off and blinked, as if just noticing what was happening.
Mary made her way over to him, slightly crouching, “What’s wrong, Sammy?”
His brows creased in confusion and he looked around, “I… I don’t…” He chewed his lip as he turned his gaze out the window, catching a glimpse of something he couldn’t make out, “This doesn’t seem…. right.”
“He’s out on a food run,” Dean got up from the table and threw his empty beer in the trash.
Crowley looked around the room and took a few steps closer to the hunter, “You know why I’m here?”
“Yeah, I know why,” Dean walked forward, meeting the demon halfway, no more than a few inches away from him.
“Good,” he smiled, “then you’ll give me what I want?”
The blonde grabbed the front of his suit and swung him around into the wall, slamming him hard into it before getting close enough to smell the whisky on his breath. The demon let out a startled cry and struggled uselessly against his grip.
“You think, that just because you showed up, I’d give you what you wanted?”
Crowley blinked in surprise and stammered mutely for a minute.
“Because if you did,” he leaned impossibly closer, “you’d be right.”
In the next instant, the demon felt the Winchesters’ lips on his own. The hunter pressed his body against him, squishing him harder into the wall, pulling a deep moan from the demon.
The blonde stepped back, letting him fall to the ground, panting and smirked down at him.
“Wh-what was that?”
Dean didn’t respond, instead opting to take him by the collar again and drag him back to his feet, turning him around before letting him stumble out of reach.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Crowley’s shocked look only made the hunter’s smile grow wider, as he closed the distance again, “Won’t Moose be back soon?”
“We’ve got time,” Dean pushed the demon backward and he felt his back hit the bed.
Crowley gaped at him, “I don’t think-”
“Shut up.”
Crowley eased himself up the bed, trying to put distance between himself and the hunter, but didn’t respond. Dean smiled before crawling onto the bed after him.
“Squirrel-”
“This,” he cut the demon off, before getting onto his knees, undoing his belt, “is for what you did to Sammy.”
Sam huffed as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, why can’t I get you to shut up?
“Sam, we’ve been over this,” the devil crossed his legs as he sat on the toilet seat, “thinking at me is the same as talking. Might as well use your voice.”
No, he shook his head violently, making himself dizzy from the force, you’re not real.
Lucifer sighed before getting up off the toilet, coming up behind the giant, lips barely an inch away from his ear, “Are you sure?”
The brunette couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine at the words, the way the breath tickled the hair on his ear, how could he-
“Sammich? You okay in there?”
He jumped at the voice, heart practically leaping out of his chest. His eyes swept the room, not seeing the fallen angel anywhere.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The giant held his breath as he waited to hear retreating footsteps. He deflated against the sink, turning back before turning it on, bringing some water up to his face, that was close.
“Don’t worry, Sam,” Lucifer clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at their reflections, “you won’t have to keep me a secret much longer.”
—
“He’s in shock, but other than that he’s fine. No broken bones, barely even a scratch. From a fall that high, I’d say he’s pretty…”
The EMT’s voice droned on in the background, as he sat on the edge of the ambulance, picking at the lip of the paper cup in his hands, shock… this is what shock feels like?
“I know it’s not quite the outcome you wanted,” Lucifer came over and sat beside him, “but hey, you did want a body to hit the sidewalk, so… that’s still a win, right?”
Sam shook his head, how can you say that? He was your brother.
“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I killed him.”
He scoffed, eyes still on the now-covered body, why did you come after me?
“You know why.”
I don’t-
“He loved you, Sam. Just like I told you.”
No, no he didn’t. He wasn’t- he tore his eyes away from the body to look at the fallen angel, “Why are you even still here? You got what you wanted.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” The blonde blew out a breath and looked at the body bag, “He loved you. I never would’ve-” he cut himself off as he looked down.
Sam eyed him for a moment, “This is a trick, right?”
“What?”
“This is all just you, right? You’re tricking me into thinking that-”
“No, Sam, I’m not.”
He glanced back up to the body bag, boulder settling into his stomach, no, this can’t- there’s no way this is- He turned back to the blonde, lump forming in his throat as he noted his sad expression, “Please tell me this isn’t real.”
The devil hung his head lower, not meeting the ex-hunter’s eyes.
The giant swallowed thickly, no, this- this can’t be real. “Y-you’re lying.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“No!” He stood up, hands balling into fists at his sides, glaring at the shorter man, “You’re lying!”
“I told you he’d start to suspect something.” The blonde stretched his legs out in front of him, eyes on the giants’ kneeling form as he dug through the closet.
“Oh, well, good for you,” Sam continued flinging clothes behind him, getting increasingly desperate the deeper he dug, “C’mon, it’s gotta be in here somewhere.”
Lucifer peered over the edge of the bed, “What are you even looking for?”
“My contacts,” he reached the back wall of the closet, face falling, “They’re not here.”
“Contacts?” Lucifer sat up, tilting his head slightly in curiosity, “Since when do you wear contacts?”
Sam huffed, spinning away from the closet on his knees, scanning the room, “I don’t. I bought them after the last time they’d….” he let his voice trail off as his eyes landed on the dresser, maybe I moved them? He got up and made his way over to it, pulling out one of the drawers, beginning to dig through it.
“You’re worried your eyes will change?” Lucifer moved to sit on the edge of the bed frame, eyes wide, “How much have you been drinking?”
Sam shot a look over his shoulder, “What? No. Not that much. Shut up,” he turned back to the dresser, beginning his assault on the next drawer.
“Then why do you need them?”
“Hey, Sam,” Deans’ voice made the giant jump, and his head whipped up to face the open door. The blonde surveyed the clothes strewn about the floor, and the open closet doors before his eyes landed on his brother, hunched over the dresser, fistfuls of clothing in both hands, “… You lose something?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam placed the clothes in his hand down, and straightened up slowly, “Y’know that pocket knife you gave me last year at Christmas? I was trying to find it.”
His brother didn’t look convinced but he nodded anyway, “Steaks are almost done.”
“Okay, great,” the brunette forced himself to smile, “Thanks.”
Will Dean catch on to what’s up with Sam? Find out here!
With a regretful look back to his brother, Dean nodded and headed out.
“Finally… I thought he’d never leave,” Lucifer clapped the hunter on the shoulder as he closed the door.
He does like to worry. Wait, what are you doing? Don’t let him in, Sam heard the Impala take off as he made his way to the couch.
“Well, now that we’re alone…” Lucifer waggled his eyebrows and straddled the hunter.
“What the fuck,” the giant jumped up and took a couple steps backward.
“Sam,” the blonde gave him a curious look as he picked himself up off the floor, “we’ve done this before you know.”
“No we haven’t,” the hunter had the nerve to look appalled, much to the devil’s amusement.
As if he doesn’t remember it was his idea… He brushed himself off and analysed the hunter, “Sam, do you… ,” he struggled to find the words, not wanting to give something away that he wasn’t ready to hear, “You remember what happened in the cage, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember,” he crossed his arms and cocked his head, “why do you ask?” And why do you sound so… hurt?
Lucifer shifted his gaze down to the floor as he worked out how to continue, “So then you… remember? W-what we did?”
“Damn right I remember what you did to me you son-of-a-bitch,” he couldn’t help but notice the flinch the blonde gave at his tone, Pfftt, please Sam… as if the devil is scared of you, get real.
“No,” Lucifer closed his eyes and sighed before he locked gazes with the hunter, “Do you remember what we did?”
“What do you-”
“In the cage, yes you were tortured, but never by my own hand,” the explanation rushed out of him, almost as if he couldn’t stop it, “it was all Michael. I told you I’d never hurt you Sam, and I meant it. I did everything I could to get between you and Michael, I couldn’t just stand there and watch him break you over and over again. So I… I made you a hide out.”
“A hideout?”
“A place where Michael wouldn’t be able to get to you. I set up a decoy version of you for him to take his frustrations out on, so he wouldn’t notice you were gone-”
“A decoy? Where do you get a decoy Sam Winchester from, Hunters R Us?” Sam chuckled and crossed his arms, remaining skeptical of the explanation.
“Not exactly…” Lucifer winced, clearly not wanting to divulge the information.
“Lucifer,” Sam’s voice was hard and he took a step toward the shorter man, “what did you use as a decoy?”
“Supply run,” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and stretched, “Did you forget something?”
“Forget something? Dean, I’ve been gone four days.”
“What?” He was definitely awake now.
Bobby flicked the light on, making Dean shield his eyes from the light, “I came back from the hunt to see the door unlocked, the Impala gone, you snoring on the couch and a lack of your mammoth of a brother.”
Fuck, he struggled to his feet, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I got back yesterday, figured he was out on a supply run and waited to see if he’d come back. Gave the kid fifteen minutes from when I got in, when he didn’t show? I’ve been trying to wake you since.”
He is so dead. He started toward the door.
“Do you know where he went?”
“No, but I’ll start with the store and work my way up,” he reached into his pocket for the keys.
Fuck, I let him take the car! He banged a fist against the wall, “Can we take your truck?”
Bobby nodded, catching up to Dean, before running out the door. They climbed into his truck – needing to physically pull Dean half way into it first, which shaved off another couple minutes of catch-up time – before speeding off toward the store.
—
“C’mon Sam, I know you want to vent. Who better to listen than me?” Lucifer stretched his feet up onto the dash as they sped down the road, the youngest Winchester looking ready to explode, his grip on the steering wheel getting increasingly tighter.
“Leave me alone.” Sam pushed the palm of his left hand as hard as he could into the wheel.
Why can’t I just get some time to myself? Usually, Lucifer disappeared after a few minutes or he just hung around in the background, not really talking. But lately things had started to change – Sam would walk into a room to find him waiting there, actively trying to get him to respond, he seemed more in tune with the situation and would interject whenever there was a pause, and, perhaps the most annoying – the scar on his hand was pretty much useless.
“Don’t be mean, Sammy, I’m only trying to help.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Oh c’mon,” Lucifer bumped his arm, “Tell me what’s bothering you about Big Bro.”
“It’s just-” he huffed, knuckles going white around the steering wheel, “He’s acting like I’m five. Like I can’t take care of myself. All the shit we’ve been through? And he just assumes I’m not able to handle this. I mean,” he pulled into the parking lot, “No offence but seeing you isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s happened to one of us, y’know?”
Lucifer nodded, “He has gotten more… controlling lately.”
“I know,” Sam got out of the car and made his way toward the entrance of the store, “I think it might be tied to losing Cas, but still…” he picked up a basket as they entered, pausing as Lucifer hopped into one of the carts, “… what’re you doing?”
“I’ve never rode in one before.”
Sam shook his head, replacing the basket, before making his way over to the cart, “You know they don’t go very fast, right? If you think riding in a car is slow – this’ll be ten times worse.”
Lucifer waved a dismissive hand at him before pointing to the doors, “Onward!”
Sam complied, making his way into the store pushing the cart, unable to ignore the thousand-watt smile the devil gave him.
“Don’t forget the pie, Sam.”
“I’m not gonna forget the pie,” he mentally cursed himself as a lady gave him a quizzical look as they passed, shit.
“What?” Lucifer turned to look at the lady, before turning back to the hunter, confused, “What’s wrong?”
Nothing, he turned down the produce aisle, throwing things into the cart occasionally.
They turned down another aisle, Sam moving through it quickly, trying to find pie.
“Hold it!”
Sam stopped abruptly, glad the aisle was empty, “What the hell?”
Lucifer picked a box of Pop-Tarts up off the shelf, holding them out to show the hunter, “Can we get these?”
Sams’ brows furrowed in confusion, “Since when do angels need to eat? And since when do you like Pop-Tarts?”
Lucifer pet the box, “These are the best thing your kind has invented.”
“…Sure,” Sam held back his chuckle as the devil reached for another box, cradling both against his chest.
They continued shopping in silence for a while, before Sam doubled back on some of the aisles, scanning the signs above with frustration, “Where the hell is the pie?”
Lucifer pointed toward the back of the store, “Probably where it says Bakery?”
He stopped dumbfounded before shaking his head, of course, starting toward the back of the store.
He ducked as he heard a gunshot, before turning to the front of the store, eyes widening as he saw another him, “What the hell?”
“This is a robbery!” Clone-Sam yelled, firing two more shots into the ceiling, “Everybody down!” He made his way over to the cash, shooting some of the people in line, before throwing the cashier a bag, “Money, in!”
Will Dean and Bobby find Sam before Clone-Sam gets to him? Find out here!
Dean slid out from under the car he was working on to see his boss, chest heaving, face red, stomping toward him.
“Where the hell is my daughter?”
“Probably still sore from last night,” he smirked before sliding back under.
He felt his boss’ boot catch the end of his creeper, yanking him back out. The blonde glared up at the other man, I don’t have time for this.
The vein in his head began throbbing as he narrowed his eyes, “You want to try that again?”
The blonde ran a hand through his hair, shrugging.
His boss stomped his foot, face almost purple, “You will show me some respect, Diana!”
Diana? You really want to go there? He sighed before standing up, towering over his boss, “Sir, if I knew where your daughter was, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, keep making those jokes. We’ll see how funny you find them tonight,” his lips curled into an evil smile.
“Tonight? I think you’re losing it man, I get off at six.”
His boss’ smile grew, face returning to a somewhat normal colour, “Is that so? Interesting,” he took a few steps away, mindlessly looking over his tools, “I could’ve sworn the schedule said you were covering for her tonight.”
“Covering for her? You mean taking the graveyard shift?” Deans’ hands balled at his sides, no chance in hell, pal.
“That’s the one,” he picked up a screwdriver, smiling at it, “such a gentleman, you are.”
The blonde grit his teeth and had to use all his willpower not to punch him, “How so?”
He put the tool down, out of place, before meeting his eyes, smiling sweetly, “Offering to cover her shift without pay, of course.”
“Listen, if you think-”
“No, you listen,” he was back in his face again, eyes sparkling dangerously, “The only reason I don’t fire you,” he dropped his voice, “is because I promised your father. But if you ever talk about her like that again you will be sleeping under the bridge off 33rd Street and fighting over a barrel fire. Do I make myself clear?”
Deans glared in response, knuckles turning white at his sides.
“Don’t forget who owns who.”
He backed off again, clapping his hands, “Okay, good talk,” he looked around the shop and spotted the other two mechanics watching, “What’re you looking at? Get back to work!”
They both jumped at being caught and rushed back over to their cars, keeping their eyes on their work. His boss pulled the lapels of this suit, straightening it before walking back across the shop to his office.
Dean waited until he saw the office door close before knocking his toolbox to the ground, “Fuck!”
Tony and Mike looked up from their cars again, both men only coming marginally closer. Dean tugged at his hair, grinding his teeth together, if he thinks I’m staying for the graveyard shift, he’s got another thing coming.
—
Shit, Dean glanced at his watch before checking the positioning of the creeper, this’ll have to do.
He locked his tool box before grabbing his jacket, sneaking over to his boss’ office. He peered into the window and saw he was sitting, facing his computer. The blonde quietly came around the other side of the office, pressing his ear to the door. He held his breath as he listened.
Just as I thought, he smiled, shrugging on his jacket as he heard soft snores. He strolled over to the door before taking one last look around the shop. Nodding to himself that everything was in order, he walked out the door.
“Damn!” he pulled his jacket tighter around his chest as the cold hit him.
Jogging to his car, he fumbled with his keys, fingers already freezing. Oh c’mon!
After what felt like forever he finally wretched the door open and climbed inside. He spent a minute rubbing his hands up and down his bare legs, making a mental note to start leaving an extra set of clothes in the car. Thank God I did laundry last night, he rubbed his thighs through his boxers.
He took his phone off the seat next to him, punching the speed dial before bringing it to his ear, please pick up… please pick up…
“Hello?”
“Cas, hey, buddy, I’m so sorry, my boss was being a dick and gave me the graveyard shift, but I’m leaving now. I should get there-”
“I-it’s fine, Dean. You don’t have to come.”
Dean blinked, next sentence of his explanation dying on his lips as he took in his shaky voice, something’s wrong, “Are you okay?”
He heard a sniff, “Y-yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to come over.”
You don’t sound fine, “Don’t be stupid, it’s your birthday, of course I’m gonna be there. I might’ve missed your brother making a fool of himself, but you and I both know the party doesn’t really start until I get there.”
“Dean,” his voice was hard, but the taller man didn’t miss the shaky inhale on the other line, “you missed the party. Everybody left.”
The blonde failed to swallow the guilt he felt building in his throat, “Oh.”
“Yeah, so just… it’s fine, don’t come over.”
Dean nodded, starring at himself in the rear view mirror, I should’ve been there, I should’ve left earlier then I could’ve- he cut himself off as he listened, heart breaking a bit as he heard the soft gasps of the man on the other line. He could picture him sitting there, hand over his mouth trying to keep the blonde from hearing him cry.
He closed his eyes, licking his lips, keeping his voice soft, “Cas,” what can I say? How can I make it up to you? “I’d still like to see you.”
“No, I-” another shaky breath, “you can’t.”
Dean felt his heart quicken, “What do you mean I can’t?” he was already jamming the key in the ignition, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Damn it, he threw the broken end of the key to the ground, eyes glancing skyward, you’re not gonna make this easy, are you? He looked around the lot, racking his brain for another idea, walk? No, it’s too cold for that. C’mon there has to be something I can-
He paused as he saw the old, broken down car in the corner of the parking lot, will it run in the cold? Time to find out, he climbed out of the car and all but ran to the other side of the lot, phone pressed tightly against his ear.
He sighed, hanging his head lower, grip on the counter tightening, “I know.”
There was a moment of silence as the gears in his head turned, he couldn’t keep doing this – selling his body for money, it wasn’t right. Not only because of the obvious dangers both disease and otherwise – but more so because it wasn’t fair to his brother.
He was supposed to be taking care of him, not going out every night after he got back from school, only to come back at 3am reeking of cigar smoke and alcohol. He knew his brother wasn’t stupid either – Sammy knew he was doing something to earn the money he had, he just prayed he wasn’t quite smart enough to figure out exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it if he found out.
“… De?”
The blondes’ head whipped up and he saw his brother, holding out the ugly neon pink piggy bank he’d bought him last Christmas. His brows furrowed, “What are you-”
“Take it.”
“Sammy, no, I can’t. It’s yours.”
The kid huffed out a breath, pushing it against his brothers’ chest hard, eyes shining with tears, “Take it!”
Dean blinked in surprise, eyeing his brother, “Sammy?”
His brothers’ bottom lip poked out and he hung his head, hair falling to cover his face, voice shaking, “Don’t… don’t go out tonight, De.”
Dean felt himself pale, oh, God, no. He sucked in a breath, “Sam, it’s okay. I’m-”
“No!” The five-year-old stomped his foot on the ground, lifting his eyes to his brother, tears streaming down his face, “You don’t need to anymore!” He shook the piggy bank, “Let me help!”
Bobby awoke startled, hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, what in the hell…? He was out of his chair in an instant, stalking his way over to the kitchen doors, hand on his gun, mentally running through the salt-line check he’d done before falling asleep.
He opened the door and sighed in relief as he saw the five-year old jump up from the floor.
“Jesus, Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he leaned himself against the door, eyes roaming over the flour-covered counter, “Whatcha doing, Sammy?”
The brunette swallowed thickly and ‘hid’ a cookie sheet behind his back, eyes threatening to spill over with tears, “… Nothing,” at the mans’ eyebrow raise he sighed in defeat, bottom lip poking out, “I-I’ll clean it up…”
“Clean up?” Bobby craned his neck a bit so he could see over the counter and noted the un-cooked cookies that littered the floor, “Now why would you do that?”
Sammy blinked in surprise as Bobby got an apron out of the closet, “… What?”
Bobby’s heart broke, John what the hell have you done to this boy? He took the cookie sheet from the child and placed it on the counter, before winking, grabbing the mixing bowl, “We can’t let you destroy the kitchen for nothing.”
—
“Wow,” Sammy was practically laying on the counter, watching the cookies cool on a wire rack.
Bobby chuckled as he washed the last of the dishes, “You’d think you’d never seen a cookie before.”
“I’ve seen cookies,” he rolled his eyes, “I just can’t believe I made these!”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”
“I know you helped but still…” he reached out to touch one, recoiling as it burnt his finger, “These look like real cookies. Like the ones you get at a store!” He turned to the older man, “I can’t believe we turned eggs and milk and all that stuff into these! It’s like magic!”
Bobby did his best to hold in his laughter, “Yeah, cooking is pretty cool.”
“Definitely,” he tilted his head a bit to the side, “… can making cookies be a job?”
“Yep,” Bobby leaned against the counter, taking a swig from his beer, “They’re called bakers.”
“Really?” his eyes went wide and he gave a thousand-watt smile, “That’s so cool! Do you think…” he bit his lip and averted his eyes, smile fading, “Do you think I could do that?”
“’Course.”
“But won’t Dad-”
“It doesn’t matter what John says,” he narrowly stopped himself from hitting the counter, “I mean,” he took a deep breath, “you should do whatever you want to do. Don’t worry if John doesn’t understand. Do what makes you happy.”
Sammy nodded before turning back to the cookies, “I want to make these every day!”
Bobby smiled, going over to ruffle his hair, “Then you do that.”
Just then, the boys heard a rumble from outside, the Impala.
Sammys’ face lit up again and he practically jumped off the counter, running to the front door, “They’re back!”
The brunette sped to the front hall before – much to Bobbys’ surprise – bee lining for the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut.
