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tamingthemuseTitle: All In [Ficlet]
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 338 – double down
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 725
Summary: After the fight is over and they finally have time to breathe, Sam takes Dean to a casino for his birthday.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
It's nearly a Pavlovian response, the way Sam's gut clenches when Dean doubles down, sliding the last of his chips next to his bet at the blackjack table. He has to remind himself that the cash Dean is gambling isn't the last of what they have, that if he loses it, they won't be forced to sleep in the car after skipping dinner. For the first time – probably ever – they have money they can spare.
They weren't able to salvage much of anything from Bobby's house, but he'd given Jody most of his important documents as well as a good deal of his book when things with Dick and the Leviathans started to get really hairy. Sam and Dean were surprised to find that their surrogate father-figure not only had a life insurance policy, but that it was worth quite a bit. The house and the salvage yard and all the land surrounding it – plus the man's modest savings – were left to Sam and Dean, under fairly recently created, never used (and therefore not yet burned) aliases that came with completely new identities.
As much as Sam thinks they should be saving what money they have and putting towards rebuilding Bobby's house. It's not a long commute for Dean from their rented apartment in Webster Grove to the salvage yard south of the city where he's taken over Bobby's mechanic gig. But it's Dean's birthday, so Sam let him loose with two hundred dollars. After an hour at the poker tables, two became fifteen, a spin of the roulette wheel put them up to three grand, now Dean's pushing his luck on blackjack.
Sam slides a twenty across the counter when the bartender sets two tumblers in front of him, waving off his change as he picks up his scotch and Dean's whiskey.
A joyous whoop goes up from the blackjack table before Sam makes his way across the casino floor and he sees Dean stand from his chair with a fist raised in victory. They lock gazes over the smoke-hazy distance, Dean grinning so widely that Sam can't help but smile back.
“Sixty-three twenty-five,” Dean crows, taking the glass Sam holds out to him and knocking it back. “I'm done.”
Sam shakes his head. His brother gets so lucky sometimes. “You sure?”
“Yeah, Sammy, I'm sure,” he says, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, rattling his chips in his hand. “Just let me cash in and we can blow this pop stand.”
Sam gets in a good sip of his scotch, savors the flavor for a moment before downing the rest.
“So... what should we do with it?” Dean asks as they meet up by the doorway out to the lobby. “Wood flooring? Flat screen TV and a Blu-ray player? Those summer classes you were looking at?”
“It's your money, Dean,” Sam says. “You won it, so whatever you want.”
Dean purses his lips for a minute, fanning himself with a handful of cash. He shuffles the bills together and folds them in half before shoving them into one of the chest pockets of Sam's flannel. “I think it's about time somebody in our family earns a college degree.” He pats the wad of cash and starts towards the exit. “Just don't take all... serious classes, you know? Take something fun. I couldn't help noticing that that community college offers cooking classes.”
Sam feels the corner of his mouth tug up in a smirk. “And?”
Ahead of him, Dean shrugs, pushing through the front door and out into the snow. “Wouldn't hurt. Can only eat boxed mac and cheese and frozen pizza and canned ravioli for so long. And you could learn how to make, I don't know. Pie or something, maybe.”
Sam grins then, laughing out loud, breath leaving his mouth in a visible cloud. “Yeah, Dean,” he says, long strides quickly closing the distance between them, closing a hand over Dean's shoulder and squeezing lightly. “I'll take a cooking class and learn how to make you pie.”
“Only if you want to,” Dean smiles innocently, digging the keys for the Impala out of his jacket pocket.
Sam just nods. Like there isn't anything he wouldn't do for his brother.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 338 – double down
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 725
Summary: After the fight is over and they finally have time to breathe, Sam takes Dean to a casino for his birthday.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
It's nearly a Pavlovian response, the way Sam's gut clenches when Dean doubles down, sliding the last of his chips next to his bet at the blackjack table. He has to remind himself that the cash Dean is gambling isn't the last of what they have, that if he loses it, they won't be forced to sleep in the car after skipping dinner. For the first time – probably ever – they have money they can spare.
They weren't able to salvage much of anything from Bobby's house, but he'd given Jody most of his important documents as well as a good deal of his book when things with Dick and the Leviathans started to get really hairy. Sam and Dean were surprised to find that their surrogate father-figure not only had a life insurance policy, but that it was worth quite a bit. The house and the salvage yard and all the land surrounding it – plus the man's modest savings – were left to Sam and Dean, under fairly recently created, never used (and therefore not yet burned) aliases that came with completely new identities.
As much as Sam thinks they should be saving what money they have and putting towards rebuilding Bobby's house. It's not a long commute for Dean from their rented apartment in Webster Grove to the salvage yard south of the city where he's taken over Bobby's mechanic gig. But it's Dean's birthday, so Sam let him loose with two hundred dollars. After an hour at the poker tables, two became fifteen, a spin of the roulette wheel put them up to three grand, now Dean's pushing his luck on blackjack.
Sam slides a twenty across the counter when the bartender sets two tumblers in front of him, waving off his change as he picks up his scotch and Dean's whiskey.
A joyous whoop goes up from the blackjack table before Sam makes his way across the casino floor and he sees Dean stand from his chair with a fist raised in victory. They lock gazes over the smoke-hazy distance, Dean grinning so widely that Sam can't help but smile back.
“Sixty-three twenty-five,” Dean crows, taking the glass Sam holds out to him and knocking it back. “I'm done.”
Sam shakes his head. His brother gets so lucky sometimes. “You sure?”
“Yeah, Sammy, I'm sure,” he says, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, rattling his chips in his hand. “Just let me cash in and we can blow this pop stand.”
Sam gets in a good sip of his scotch, savors the flavor for a moment before downing the rest.
“So... what should we do with it?” Dean asks as they meet up by the doorway out to the lobby. “Wood flooring? Flat screen TV and a Blu-ray player? Those summer classes you were looking at?”
“It's your money, Dean,” Sam says. “You won it, so whatever you want.”
Dean purses his lips for a minute, fanning himself with a handful of cash. He shuffles the bills together and folds them in half before shoving them into one of the chest pockets of Sam's flannel. “I think it's about time somebody in our family earns a college degree.” He pats the wad of cash and starts towards the exit. “Just don't take all... serious classes, you know? Take something fun. I couldn't help noticing that that community college offers cooking classes.”
Sam feels the corner of his mouth tug up in a smirk. “And?”
Ahead of him, Dean shrugs, pushing through the front door and out into the snow. “Wouldn't hurt. Can only eat boxed mac and cheese and frozen pizza and canned ravioli for so long. And you could learn how to make, I don't know. Pie or something, maybe.”
Sam grins then, laughing out loud, breath leaving his mouth in a visible cloud. “Yeah, Dean,” he says, long strides quickly closing the distance between them, closing a hand over Dean's shoulder and squeezing lightly. “I'll take a cooking class and learn how to make you pie.”
“Only if you want to,” Dean smiles innocently, digging the keys for the Impala out of his jacket pocket.
Sam just nods. Like there isn't anything he wouldn't do for his brother.
