A Very Team Free Will Thanksgiving
a/n: written for Nicole, who made up this awesome idea when we went to Denny's after hockey. happy thanksgiving! :D also, excuse the shit title oh my god it sucks
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And so Dean’s little bout of nostalgia is what brought them here, waiting to be seated at Denny’s. Dean had been thinking of making this a family tradition for a long time, but it was only after Lucifer rose from Hell that Dean realized that he and his brother might not have much time left for traditions. Sam looked a little weirded out, continually sending confused glances Dean’s way. Truth be told, Dean didn’t really explain why they were here, why they had driven out of their way to go here instead of the diner just down the street from their motel in Fairfield, Iowa. Dean shot Sam a mischievous grin at the same time a hostess with a bright smile and perfect blonde curls came around the corner and said, “If you’d just follow me.” She reminded Dean so much of Mary it hurt.
The hostess seated them at a four-top by the window as per Dean’s request, because shut up Sam window seats are the best. The second she walked away Sam dropped a major bitchface on Dean. “Okay Dean, fun’s over. Why the hell are we here?”
Dean considered lying for a moment: no reason, Sam, just wanted to go somewhere new. Dean scoffed at himself. Yeah, like Sam would believe that for a second. Sighing, Dean simply picked up the card lying on his side of the salt, shoved it into Sam’s hands, and buried his nose into his menu. Silence stretched between them, weakly filled with the commotion of the kitchen and murmuring voices of fellow customers. When Dean dared to peek over the top of his menu he was surprised to see Sam still staring at the card, his eyes actually wet, the giant girl.
“Hey, Samantha,” Dean said in a weak tease. “Why the hell are you crying? Menu too emotional for you?” Sam blinks at him once, twice, holding back his tears as he smiles, timid and small.
“No. No, definitely not, just,” he pauses. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean smiles back, letting himself relish in the chick-flick moment for a little while; God knows he deserves it. “You’re welcome, Sammy.” Of course then the waitress shows up and they both order the same thing: Denny’s Thanksgiving Dinner Special.
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The food comes out surprisingly quickly. Steam pours from the turkey and mashed potatoes slathered in gravy, and Dean’s mouth waters immediately. In the back of his mind he wishes he could’ve seen the turkey before it was cut, let Sam witness it in its pure, glorious form. But when Sam looks at his plate in utter joy, Dean knows it doesn’t matter all that much. When the first morsels of food touch their tongues both Dean and Sam let out a groan of pleasure. The turkey is tender and, though a little dry, the richness of gravy offers the perfect amount of moisture. The cranberry sauce is just sweet enough, and the mashed potatoes are to die for. Dean learns that Sam doesn’t really like stuffing, which is good news for Dean because it means he gets extra. Sam frowns at him when Dean picks up Sam’s plate and gleefully scrapes the stuffing from it. “Dude, I can’t believe you don’t like stuffing! It’s seriously, like, breadcrumbs and sausage.” Sam’s frown deepens and Dean laughs.
They eat for a long time, slowly picking at food until their stomachs start to protest and yet they continue eating, not wanting to lose the carefree atmosphere they hadn’t felt around each other in a long time. He and Sam talk about everything and nothing at all; they reminisce about good times, talk about television shows Dean’s watched or books Sam’s read. Everything even remotely supernatural is avoided, because now’s not the time to be talking about work or the god damn apocalypse.
This is how it’s supposed to be on thanksgiving. No shitty motels, no demons hunting them down, no dick angels crowding up their lives. Just him and Sam and some pretty damn good food. The only thing that would make this perfect moment better was if Bobby or Castiel…
As if reading Dean’s thoughts (which he better not be, because Dean told him never to do that), Castiel materializes in one of the vacated chairs at the table, hair a little ruffled around the edges. Sam jumps about a foot out of his chair and Dean very nearly knocks over his bottle of beer. Castiel doesn’t seem fazed by the brothers’ intense reactions; he fixes Dean with a level gaze and says, “Hello Dean” before turning to Sam, “Hello Sam.”
“Jesus, Cas, warn a guy next time,” Dean complains. But a smile is tugging at the corners of his lips, and he doesn’t really mean it.
Castiel ducks his head a bit. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood your message.” He meets Dean’s eyes. “You did call for me, correct?”
“Dude, you called for Cas?” Sam hisses. Dean’s not sure if Sam is mad or is still just surprised. Sheepishly, Dean rubs the back of his neck.
“Uh, kinda? I mean, I was just thinking, you know, it’s too bad Bobby’s not here and, well, Cas is sort of part of our family now…” He trails off and gestures vaguely with his hands.
Sam opens his mouth but the waitress gets there first, sliding up to their table and picking up their now-empty plates. She doesn’t notice Castiel until she has them balanced on her tray, and when she does her eyes grow wide. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were expecting someone else.”
Sam smiles politely at her. “Don’t worry, we weren’t. He just ran into us a couple minutes ago and wanted to sit down.”
She turns her attention to Castiel, her bright smile in his direction causing Castiel to squint. “Well, then, can I get you anything, hon?”
Dean knows Castiel is about to protest, about to tell her ‘no thank you, I actually don’t eat’ but Dean has a wicked plan, and before Castiel can say anything Dean says, “Yeah, he’ll get a slice of pecan pie.” The glare from Sam that follows is totally worth getting to have two slices of pie. He and Sam both order pumpkin pie as part of the special. Silence settles over the table once again, although it’s more awkward now that Castiel is there. Eventually, someone is going to have to break the silence, because there is no way in hell Dean is going to let their little thanksgiving dinner be awkward. So he turns to Castiel and asks, “So, what’ve you been up to?” Castiel launches into a story about his visit to Africa during the day, and amazingly Dean finds himself intrigued. He hardly even notices when the waitress returns with three plates of pie, which surprises Sam most of all.
The pie is absolutely flawless: Dean thinks he might be in love. The pecan is pretty good too, though not as good as the pumpkin. With a lot of pressure, he and Sam even manage to get Castiel try a bite of his pecan pie, and thus Castiel discovers the magical properties of deliciousness that pie holds. Castiel inhales his slice in two seconds flat, and Dean and Sam crack up at Castiel’s disappointment when he finds his plate empty.
When they finally leave Denny’s and head towards the Impala, the three of them are laughing and joking, belly’s full and content, happiness lying across their shoulders. For a minute Dean imagines that they are just normal people, that they don’t know that Lucifer is going to cause the apocalypse, or that angels want to wear him and Sam like suits, that Castiel isn’t dangerously close to them as an angel. Castiel even slides into the backseat instead of teleporting away, like he’s afraid to lose this closeness and companionship if he leaves too soon. Dean is grateful that Castiel is staying: hell, he wishes Castiel could stay all the time. He’s probably Dean’s best friend, besides his brother, and its hard when your best friend is part of the species that is all up for letting you and your brother get possessed so Michael and Lucifer can duel it out. Dean pushes that thought back and focuses on Sam and Castiel’s voices as he drove to the motel, talking about some sort of lore on something-or-other. Dean smiles at the road stretched in front of him; the interior of the Impala grew quiet with exhaustion and companionship.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he yells at the Heavens, and soon all three of them are yelling it at each other and out the windows, grinning and laughing at how dorky they all were. Dean’s family may be small, and more than a little broken, but it was his, and he was thankful for them.
