By Minim Calibre
Notes: Short and fairly silly birthday ficlet, written for the SPB Cheer Crew in our morning e, and shared with the class, just because. Spoilers, though mild, for all aired episodes.
“Hey, Sammy, fire up the laptop and see if there’s a Chuck E. Cheese anywhere around here.”
Sam looked over at the clock. The numbers six, three, and zero glowed a dim digital red. Definitely way too early for Dean to be a: awake; and b: hopping around the motel room like a manic preschooler on a sugar high. And yet… “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
His brother’s face took on the slightly wounded, mostly affronted look of a cat faced with a bath. “Dude, of course I’m serious. Not every day a man turns 29.”
“Dean, it’s six-thirty in the morning.”
“Yeah, but what if the nearest one turns out to be in Chicago or something? Gotta leave room for travel time.”
“Dean, we are not going to Chuck E. Cheese for your birthday.” Coffee. He needed coffee. And maybe a couple of aspirin. And a tranq gun.
“Aww, you used to love the place. Hey, you think they’ve still got skee ball?”
Any second now, Dean was going to pull out the last one card. Just like he had at Christmas. Any second now, and then Sam would cave and find himself driving hundreds of miles out of his way for bad pizza, overpriced games, and a clown-level creepy mouse. “Dean…” Sam tried, but there was just no way to keep the whine out of his voice.
Dean huffed. He puffed. And to Sam’s surprise, he sat his ass down. “Okay, fine. But how about Hooters?”
No begging, no pleading, no mention of the deal at all. Maybe there was such a thing as miracles, provided they were microscopically small. “Yes, Dean. We can do Hooters. We even passed one on the way into town. I’m going back to sleep now.” Sam burrowed back under the covers with a yawn. “Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy birthday, man.”