Ficlet: Jack's Special Day (G)
Summary:
Along with everything else about life with the Winchesters, Jack has learned that historically birthdays weren’t high on the list of priorities for their family.
A short tale of Jack's special day, unexpected gifts and fluffy feels.
Along with everything else about life with the Winchesters, Jack has learned that historically birthdays weren’t high on the list of priorities for their family, so he’s surprised to find a large package with his name on it waiting for him on the table when he walks into the kitchen on the morning of what marks - in human years - the anniversary of his birth. Inside are three separately wrapped packages, all in colourful paper and in various states of neatness.
The first is a thick, leather bound journal with fresh white pages ready for him to write his own thoughts and facts about hunting, because while they do a lot of their research online there’s nothing like having a physical resource. That one screams Sam and he smiles widely at the man while he strokes the cover, carefully. The second is a large bundle of socks, at least twenty pairs, which puzzles Jack for a moment until he looks up to see Castiel’s hopeful face and remembers he’s read or heard that people often give them as presents. He smiles and nods his thanks, because after all they’re practical and they look very comfy. The third contains a thick, glossy magazine with a bikini clad woman on the front. Jack tries not to smile at Sam’s long suffering eye roll, says thank you and snickers at Dean’s smirk when he points out that it’s ‘only softcore’ and ‘time the kid started a collection’.
The weather is unusually warm for a day in May and Jack enjoys the breeze through the windows of the Impala when they all go for a drive, noting Sam doesn’t even object when they pull into a diner nicer than their usual ones for greasy burgers and a giant piece of chocolate cake. They walk off their rich meal with a hike through a section of forest they passed earlier, Jack happily identifying different species of flora and fauna he’s learned about in books, while Sam and Dean tell stories of past hunts, and a Wendigo he’s very glad he never met.
Back in the bunker they all watch a couple of movies, Dean complaining loudly when Jack predictably opts for one of the Star Wars saga. There’s popcorn and soda - diet, at Sam’s insistence - and later there’s beer and pizza. The whole day’s left Jack feeling happy, but full and tired. After thanking his surrogate fathers for everything - with hugs, because it’s still his birthday and so they can’t complain too much - he uses the bathroom, washes his face and brushes his teeth almost in a sleepy trance, shuffling to his room with every intention of falling face down on the covers and not moving until morning.
There’s a flaw in that plan, though, because on his bed is another package, this time a folded over brown paper bag. He frowns and opens it cautiously, tipping the contents out onto the bed, a beaming smile on his face when he sees what they are. Three of his favourite nougat bars lie on top of a pair of pyjamas covered in depictions of the Millenium Falcon.
Behind him, there’s the sound of boots scuffing on the floor and he turns to find Dean hovering in the doorway, beer bottle in hand and looking uncharacteristically coy. The older man nods towards the items on the bed and waves his free hand in their direction, “If you get chocolate on them you’re doing your own laundry!” he says in that faux grumpy tone he has.
Jack smiles even wider and nods, a warmth in his belly at the extra and very unexpected gifts, obviously meant to be for his eyes only, “Thank you,” he replies, wanting to step forward and hug him again but he refrains, knowing that would be too much physical affection and the hunter looks uncomfortable enough as it is, “they’re great.”
Dean shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck before eventually meeting Jack’s eyes and smiling, softly, “Happy birthday, kid.”
