Chapter Text
As a rule, Dean tended to avoid large grocery stores. The type that specialized in fresh produce that didn’t belong in rattling motel mini-fridges, or where the prices were clearly intended for people who had more money than whatever happened to be in Dad’s pockets the day before he left for 4 days.
But now, none of that mattered. He had a state of the art (for its time period) fridge and a bottomless credit card. He also had four people to feed rather than two, and in a few days, it’d be closer to twenty.
“Whose idea was it to have a party again?” he asked as Baby roared down the interstate towards one of the bigger stores in Lebanon.
Jack looked up from his Nintendo. He’d found it at a garage sale and had begged Sam for it until he caved, despite the fact it didn’t turn on and no charger was being sold. The guy who was running the garage sale had smirked when Sam had handed over ten dollars. He’d also given him and Cas a look when they’d walked in, which had Dean ready to deck him on principle.
(He didn’t hunt anymore. He had to stay sharp somehow.)
But of course, on the car ride home Dean had heard the sound of Mario Cart from the backseat, and when he’d glanced back in the rearview the Nintendo’s case was glowing gold, so really, the joke was on the guy who’d sold it to a nephilim.
Now it was also equipped with Bluetooth. Jack took out one of his headphones. “I think it was on everyone’s mind,” he said.
“If we don’t celebrate defeating God then what are we gonna celebrate?” Sam asked from the backseat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they wanna hear about it.”
Dean knew they did. They wanted to hear about how they’d discovered their whole lives and the various Apocalypses in it were the work of a hack writer in an ugly red sweater, which was weird even by hunter standards. About how they’d tricked Micheal and Lucifer into giving Jack their power. How they'd left Chuck groveling in the dirt.
They didn’t want to hear about how Sam had knelt in front of Eileen’s dropped phone, or watched all their friends and allies disappear into thin air. How Dean had crumpled like softened steel in that fucking dungeon, mind swamped with all the words he’d received and the ones he’d never get to say. How Jack had left, promising to be in every drop of rain and every little pebble, as if any of that would’ve ever been enough.
But Dean figured that was every story. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
Dean looked over at Cas. He also had a headphone in, but it was connected to a walkman, not a tricked out Nintendo. Dean bit down on his grin. Cas had said his grace, his wings, his very essence had been shredded on his way out of the Empty, but somehow, the cassette had survived the trip in his coat pocket.
He resolutely did not think about how he couldn’t find it while Cas was gone, how he’d thought he’d thrown it away. He’d been wrong, so it was water under the bridge now. Lots of things were water under the bridge since Cas came back. Since they’d survived Chuck’s psychosis.
“Still don’t see why we have to host,” Dean said, rather than disturb Cas. He still saw Cas’ eyes dart to him a moment later, a tiny smile on his lips. Dean knew to look for these things now.
“Jody likes your burgers,” Jack said, leaning forward like he was telling a secret. “That’s why she asked. And Claire wants to see the Bunker really bad.”
“She does now, does she?” Dean asked. “She denied it over the phone.”
“It is Claire,” Cas piped up.
“Am I gonna believe the former God or Claire herself about Claire’s feelings?” Dean mused.
Jack raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror, looking like a much younger Sam when he was trying to prove a point. Dean grinned.
“Not even a contest,” he said. Jack’s grin was Cas’ then, and Sam chuckled and Cas was still smiling a little, so Dean pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
Maybe they did have something to celebrate.
>>>
“Dude, it’s a party, not the Met Gala.”
“Oh, you don’t get to say it’s a long list” Dean insisted, jabbing a finger at him as he grabbed a cart. “You seen the spell lists for your voodoo crap? Miles, Sam. They can be seen from outer space.”
“I grow my ingredients, at least,” Sam muttered.
“Yeah, or get them sourced from a very special supplier in Hell,” Dean agreed. “When you telling Eileen about Rowena again? Or her very forward thoughts about you?”
“It’s like you want the world to end again.”
Dean snickered and Sam sighed. As they walked into the store Jack veered off towards the small machines that dispensed candy for 25 cents. Sam went over to him and steered him away by the shoulders.
“But-”
“No.”
“Sam-”
“No, you don’t know how long that candy’s been in there, Jack-”
“Hey now, that candy ain’t bad,” Dean defended, mainly because it was funny when Sam glared back at them as they walked in. “I used to love that stuff when I was a kid, the stuff of my childhood-”
Sam gave him a bitch face at the same time Cas murmured, “That’s not really the best argument.”
“Wow, okay, whose side are you on?”
Cas shrugged. Jack crossed his arms. “Can’t I decide for myself if I want candy?” he asked. “Besides, I’m sure it’s not even that-”
He looked back at it, immediately making a face. He turned on his heel.
“Nevermind. It’s older than I look.”
Sam winced and patted his shoulder, guiding him further inside. Cas walked alongside Dean.
“What Sam doesn’t realize,” he said, “is that by making the only problem with the candy the age, Jack can still get the candy.”
“Huh?”
Jack turned, his palm cupped in front of his chest and holding the same bright-colored candies from the dispenser. “You guys want some?” he asked.
Sam looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.
“Oh,” Dean said, “don’t mind if I do!”
Dean took some candy from Jack’s outstretched palm. Cas patted Sam’s shoulder in sympathy.
“So where are we going first?” Jack asked, munching on his candy. “I’ve never been to a grocery store like this.”
“We follow the list,” Dean said. It had been his main focus for the past two days; feeding a family of hunters required a well thought out battle plan.
“Which half is mine?” Sam asked.
“Half of what?”
“The list.”
“I don’t trust you with half the list,” Dean said, affronted. “I’ll ask you to get hotdog buns and they’ll be like…made with quinoa or something.”
“I did not just drive an hour to follow you around a grocery store,” Sam insisted.
“You used to love doing that when you were a kid,” Dean said.
“Yeah, cause it wasn’t a motel room. Everything beats a motel room Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Just hang out til I get everything.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Put whatever you want in the cart, but the list is mine.”
Sam scoffed. “C’mon Jack,” he said. “I’ll actually show you around the store, while Mr. Type A over there makes sure he gets the right number of pickles.”
Sam guides Jack away and ignores Dean’s affronted sound. He leaned on the cart, pushing it along while Cas walked beside him. “He’s really been leaning into the bitchy little brother behavior lately,” he muttered.
“And you have been leaning into the teasing older brother behavior too,” Cas shot back.
Dean scoffed. “No.”
“It helps to not have apocalypses to avert or a malicious god working to pit you both against each other” Cas said. “You joke around with him.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “Are you gonna help me with the shopping or what?”
It was a very obvious deflection, but Cas loved him enough to not comment on it and instead took the list from Dean’s hand and looked it over.
“Good, right?” Dean asked as Cas mouthed the ingredients to himself. “We get in and we get out. No distractions.”