Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 95: Amarillo By Morning

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 95: Amarillo By Morning
Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Reggie/Marcus
Rating: R
Word Count:6,100
Summary: Dean has his birthday dinner.
Warning: Eating Big Food
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.

Master post of all chapters here

Reggie tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to ignore the tug in his chest, the insistent voice in his head whispering not too late to turn back and bring him with. The morning was cold and grey, and that's exactly how he felt. Cold despite the heat blowing in from the vents, and grey inside and out. He breathed in deep through his nose, to bring himself back on track, and smelled Marcus's scent on him. He gritted his teeth. "Goddamn it," he muttered.

His cell phone rang. He flipped it open and checked the display. Marcus.

"Hey, you." Reggie's voice slipped into his lowest register.

"Is it too soon to miss you?"

"I hope not, 'cause I miss the hell out of you."

"Sweet talker."

Reggie laughed. "Yeah. That's what I'm known for. All my sweet talk."

"Are you driving right now?"

Reggie snorted. "You know I am. Gotta get where I'm going."

"You shouldn't talk on the phone and drive." Marcus's voice was playful.

"You shouldn't call me while I'm driving," Reggie drawled.

"You're supposed to pull over to take a call," Marcus teased.

"Why? You gonna sex talk me?"

A pause. "You want me to?"

Reggie exhaled. "I…um…"

Marcus burst into laughter. "I'm just messing with you."

"You sure are something." Reggie kept the gas steady at 73 miles an hour, intent on avoiding drawing the attention of any fine members of the Highway Patrol.

"Is that good?"

"Hell yeah." Reggie pulled into the left lane to pass a Winnebago. "That's good."

"Ok, I'm going to let you drive now."

"You do that."

"Call me. When you want to."

"Deal." Reggie's moustache twitched. "Maybe you can sex talk me some."

Marcus laughed again, a rich, delighted sound. "Don't you tempt me."

"Isn't that my job?"

Marcus fell silent. "I…" A slow sigh, then a short little laugh, like he was trying hard to keep things light and breezy. "You drive safe. And give me a call sometime."

They said goodbye and Reggie drove all the way to Amarillo with a huge grin splitting his creased face. Before he returned to the Sanctuary, he made a special stop at a store he'd seen in his earlier tracking of the boys to the nightclub, to pick up something for Dean's birthday.

---

He arrived in the mid-afternoon, loping into the common room where Bobby sat on the couch, Juliane carefully evaluating his range of motion and how much the swelling had gone down. Juliane greeted Reggie, then tugged the leg of Bobby's sweatpants back down and gave his ankle a little pat. "It looks much better. I'd say you could try walking on it without the crutches tomorrow."

"That's sure good news." Reggie thumped down on the couch with a contented grin that had only a little to do with the state of Bobby's knee.

"Don't you look like the cat that ate the canary?" Bobby quipped, taking in the look of pure dumb happiness on the old hunter's face.

Reggie didn't say a word, but his cheeks pinked up.

"Turning a little red in the face there." Bobby couldn't resist ribbing Reggie. "Well, there's nothing like getting your pipes cleaned to put a spring in your step."

Reggie's blue eyes lit on Bobby, pinned him in place. "It wasn't like that."

Bobby blew out a breath and held his hands up, palms out. "No disrespect intended, brother."

Reggie smoothed out his moustache, a self-soothing gesture, and fished out a toothpick from his shirt pocket. Bobby didn't say anything. Finally, Reggie settled back on the couch with a sigh. "His name's Marcus. And I like this one."

Bobby leaned over and gave him a jovial smack on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it. So…he hunt?"

Reggie looked down at his boots. Bobby whistled. "Boy. You sure can pick a challenge."

Bobby filled him in on the plan for Dean's birthday dinner: the Big Texan steak house, and unleashing Dean on the famous 72-ounce steak challenge.

"We're still getting him piss drunk, though, right?"

Bobby took a swig of his hot cider and bourbon. "Gotta respect tradition."

Juliane brought Reggie a mug of the same concoction. He thanked her, stretching his long legs closer to the fire.

"You two comin'?" Bobby asked her.

Juliane blinked rapidly. "Oh. I…we thought…it was just a family thing."

"It is." He looked her straight in the eyes, a deadpan expression on his face. "Like I said…you two comin'?"

Juliane wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself with a shy smile. "Let me talk to Danny. I don't know about leaving Nathaniel by himself."

Reggie frowned at the mention of Nathaniel, who would likely remain a permanent guest of the Sanctuary after being ridden by Azazel for so many years, forced to remain conscious to see through his own eyes the atrocities Azazel committed using his body. There would be no setting Nathaniel loose in civilian society after that.

Juliane and Danny conferred privately, and rejoined the men in the common room. Danny felt it was too soon to leave Nathaniel completely unattended, because he sometimes lapsed into screaming fits unless sedated to the point of drooling, and that he thought it right one of them should stay behind. Juliane didn't want to go without Danny, and Danny didn't want to go without Juliane.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Y'all are giving me a toothache."

"Maybe we can do cake and presents after you get back?" Juliane gave Danny a conspiratorial wink. "We've been baking."

Bobby and Reggie exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing. "Sure," Bobby said, "but he might not have much room in his gut for cake."

Danny tipped his head to the side, puzzled. After a beat, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He's gonna do the steak challenge?"

"If he wants to, yeah." Bobby nodded.

Juliane bounced on her toes. "Danny." Her eyes were bright.

"You want to go."

She plucked at his shirtsleeve, like a little girl asking her daddy for a pony. "We have to go. We have to."

Danny just stared at her, as if he still couldn't believe his good fortune that there was now a "we" where before there had just been Out of My League, and Her Devoted Servant. "Sure." He took her hand. "I'll give Nathaniel a pill and let him sleep."

Reggie quickly strode out to his car to get the item he'd acquired for Dean, wrapped in a horse blanket, to stash it in Juliane's bedroom. Bobby's eyebrows shot up at the sight. "That what I think it is?"

Reggie grinned ear to ear.

Bobby threw his head back and guffawed. "This is gonna be a hell of a birthday."

---

Dean stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fussing with his hair so much, it was as though he was getting ready for prom. He wore his nice shirt, amulet prominent against the crisp white fabric, best blue jeans and his boots. Sam was dressed nearly identically, with his good blue shirt. He waited for Dean in the living room, playing with his silver ring. The smile that spread across his face at the sight of him was the smile of a young man seeing his beloved sitting across from him in a gondola in Venice, bathed in the light of the late afternoon sun.

Dean stopped in his tracks at the intensity of Sam's gaze. Sam's lips parted, eyes moving all over him, lingering finally on his green eyes.

"What?" Dean loved the attention, of course. But he had to pretend not to.

"I get to look at you."

Dean gave Sam a playful look. "Duh."

Sam rose to his feet. "Out of everyone in the whole world, I'm the one that gets to look at you. All the time."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. I guess so."

Sam walked up to Dean, slowly, eyes locked on Dean's face. "You don't get it. How amazing that is."

Dean's smile was slow, salty kisses on the beach, campfire marshmallows licked off the tip of a finger, a whisper of "I love you" carried across the cold night air in a fog-silver puff of breath. "Sure I do, Sammy." He brushed his mouth over Sam's. "I'm the one that gets to look at you."

---

The white limo that arrived to pick them up had steer horns attached to the hood, a source of great amusement to Dean who insisted on a photo with him and Sam in front of it, each gripping the tip of a horn. He couldn't keep still in the limo, thigh jittering, and laughed out loud at the sight of the outside of the restaurant, bright yellow with a white sign emblazoned with THE BIG TEXAN in blue and red letters, and a massive plastic cow on a flatbed trailer at the front. Draped over the cow was a sign reading "FREE 72 oz. steak."

He spun to face Sam, eyes huge. "Dude. No."

Sam grinned right back at him, dimples popping. "Dude. Yes."

Right there, in the parking lot in the middle of Texas, Dean grabbed Sam's face and kissed him long and hard, leaving no doubt among anyone who witnessed it that these two young men were much more than platonic. But in the heat of the moment, these two particular young men backed by those four hunters were the safest people in the world.

"You do love me."

"Yeah." Sam shrugged. "I kinda do."

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and tugged him toward the door. "Come on. Steak."

"Whiskey first, son."

Dean looked back over his shoulder at Bobby. "This is going to be the best day of my life."

Sam said, low so only he could hear, "And you haven't even seen your presents yet."

Dean's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Am I gonna like 'em?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and batted his eyelashes at Dean. "Oh yeah."

Dean bit his lip, air electric between them. "Sam."

"Come on, birthday boy. Steak."

Sam and Dean squeezed each other's hands, then let go and strode into the restaurant together like they owned the place, shoulders and hips so close a sheet of paper wouldn't have fit between them. All eyes fell on them, two beautiful young men in blue jeans and boots, that indescribable thing between them sparking, radiating charisma. People couldn't stop staring as everyone entered the place: the lanky, white-haired man with the elegant white moustache that practically screamed Old West; the gruff-looking man in the baseball cap making his way on crutches; the lean man that looked like he could take down anyone wanting to cause trouble with lethal efficiency; and the black-haired woman in tight jeans, form-fitting blue top that exactly matched the color of her eyes, and an old Army jacket three sizes too big for her, the silvery tips of her scars visible at her wrists.

Dean's green eyes blazed, taking in the sights, sounds and scents around them in the packed dining hall: the sharp clink of glasses, voices thick with good old Texas drawl competing with other, the faint plink of the shooting gallery in the corner, the heady scent of seared beef, fried onions and spilled beer. Right by the reception station, topped by a giant sign reading Howdy, loomed a giant stuffed bear on its hind legs, claws extended and teeth bared. The room was illuminated by overhead bulbs set into wagon wheels. Animal heads mounted on the walls looked out with lifeless glass eyes at the assembled crowd. In the middle of the dining hall in front of the grill was a raised platform with a long rectangular table, flanked by the US and Texas flags. Above the table hung a giant cow's skull with red eyes, and six electronic timers set to 60.00. On the side, ominously, were two large trash cans.

At the front of the restaurant, Dean stopped in his tracks to stare at the large black bear, and the display right next to it: a stand topped with a sign reading "The Worlds' Famous 72 oz. Steak" and a hand pointing to a bed of ice, in which lay an oval plate containing the actual components of the steak dinner challenge: baked potato, salad, shrimp cocktail, dinner roll and the massive slab of meat garnished with whole jalapenos. Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't have to do the challenge. I mean, if you want to, but you could just get, you know, a regular steak."

Dean eyed the display like it was something he had hunted, tracked and finally cornered, face gone serious, evaluating, thinking so hard Sam could practically hear the gears whirring. Then he glanced at Sam, his long lashes blinking slowly, and winked. "I totally got this."

They were seated at their table, and when the waitress arrived with a tray of glasses of water, they ordered drinks. Juliane asked for a jalapeno margarita, earning an approving glance from Danny. Sam ordered a coke, and Danny ordered a draft beer. Reggie ordered two orders of Howlers for the table (fried jalapenos), an order of mountain oysters, and a double shot of top shelf Bourbon, neat. "Me too," Bobby piped in. "The same for him." Reggie pointed at Dean, blue eyes bright with mischief.

The waitress was a bottle-blonde with hooded eyes and gums that showed when she smiled, the kind of girl that got a lot prettier after four shots of Jack, and who would go heels to Jesus in the back of a Chevy for a prime rib dinner and a few earnest-sounding compliments. She eyed Dean, popped her gum and said, "I'll need to see some ID." Her candy pink lipstick was drawn on over the natural edge of her lips.

Dean's smile was blinding. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, fished out his actual driver's license, and presented it to her. She scrutinized it, reading the date, and then her eyes returned to Dean, eyes lingering on his mouth. She pushed her lips together into a little pout. "Well, look at the birthday boy," she purred.

Sam, seated next to Dean, bristled. He plucked the license from her fingertips, and put his hand over Dean's, the expression on his face a clear, calm and powerful warning. She took an involuntary step away from Sam.

Dean laced his fingers into Sam's, and brought their joined hands up, kissing the back of Sam's hand while looking directly into her eyes. "Don't mind him. He gets a little jealous."

Her candy-pink mouth opened, showing the wad of gum on her tongue. She stammered "Uh" a few times, then turned on her chunky low heels and trotted toward the kitchen. Dean laughed.

Sam gave Dean a level 1 bitch face. "I'm not jealous," he whispered.

"Yeah you were." Dean leaned close, his mouth brushing against Sam's ear. "And it's so hot."

Sam blushed furiously, and shifted in his seat. When the drinks arrived, Reggie motioned to himself, Bobby and Dean, and raised three fingers, ordering another round.

Everyone raised their glass. "To Dean," Bobby said. "Happy 21st birthday."

Dean looked around the table, to see the faces of the people (most of them) that he loved best in the world, there to celebrate his turning 21. Juliane beamed at him, all cool elegance in the midst of rednecks and tourists, holding Danny's hand, her silvery scars visible at the wrist. Danny, looking right at home amongst the patrons of the Big Texan yet somehow not out of place at her side. Reggie (Reggie fucking Beaumont) sitting directly across from him, glass raised in a toast to him. And Bobby. Bobby, who knew, who had known for a long time, and who not only didn't turn away from them, didn't abandon them, but brought them a double recliner and put a lock on the inside of their bedroom door. Bobby, who had taught Dean how to throw a curve ball and how to read basic Latin. Bobby, who always ruffled Dean's hair despite his protestations until he'd come to love it. Bobby, who knew, and stayed by their side.

And Sam.

His Sam.

Dean blinked back tears and raised his glass. "To family."

"To family," everyone echoed.

His eyes locked on Reggie and Bobby, Dean downed the double shot in one swift motion.

Two musicians in embroidered cowboy shirts strolled up to the table, with a fiddle and an acoustic guitar, and launched into a respectable rendition of Cowboy Bill.

"He told a good story, and all us kids listened, about his life on the border and the way it was then."

The entire table fell silent and listened.

"Well you could taste the dry dust of the trail he was riding, as he sat there and painted those west Texas scenes…"

When they had finished, everyone applauded, and Reggie wiped the corner of his eye surreptitiously. Everyone pretended not to notice.

When the waitress came back with the second round and the appetizers, she pretended like she hadn't just tried to pick up on the 21-year-old with his boyfriend sitting right next to him. "Have y'all decided?"

Everyone ordered huge meals, prime rib, strip steak, rib eye, fried shrimp and bbq ribs, Texas rice and onion rings, baked potatoes, and mashed potatoes with gravy.

Dean went last. "I'd like the 72 ounce steak dinner."

Bobby beamed proudly. The waitress snapped her gum and asked, "You sure about that, darlin'?"

Sam sat up straight. "Yeah, he is." He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to her. "You have to pre-pay, right? And I get this back when he finishes it all?"

The waitress gave Sam a double-take. "Sure. If he finishes."

"When," Sam corrected her.

"Alright. Let me tell you the rules." She explained that Dean had to finish everything within 60 minutes. He didn't have to eat the garnishes, but all the actual food. He could take one bite of the steak and make sure it was cooked to his satisfaction, and once he approved it, the timer was started. Once he began, he could not stand up, leave the table or have anyone else touch any part of the meal. He didn't have to eat the fat, but they would judge what he cut away to see if there was enough meat left on it to disqualify him. If he failed, he could take the leftovers home, but couldn't share them with anyone in the restaurant. "And if you get sick," the waitress jerked her head toward the large trash cans, "you lose."

Dean raised his double shot. "It's on." With a swift movement and a stiff wrist, he tossed the double shot of bourbon down his throat.

"Ok , sweetheart. Time to move to your table." The waitress indicated the Steak Challenge platform, apart from the other tables.

"We…can't sit with him?" Sam looked stricken. Dean squeezed his hand.

"It's not allowed. Only people doing the challenge can sit up there. But I can move you right up next to it."

They were relocated to a table as close to the platform as possible. It took some time for the steak to be prepared, because it was so massive. Dean refrained from eating any of the appetizers, but laughed and joked with everyone as their dinners were served. The 72 ounce steak took longer to cook because it was so massive, it cooked much like a roast.

Finally, it was ready, and Sam escorted Dean to the table. A murmur rose from the crowd at the sight of a challenger. The waitress leaned over and asked Dean a few questions, and ran to the back. Over the crowd came the sound of a man's voice on a loudspeaker. "At the Big Texas, we got Dean Winchester all the way from Lawrence, Kansas. Now, he's fixin' to try our 72 ounce steak challenge in one hour. Now he has four and a half pounds of meat, one salad, one baked potato, one shrimp, and a roll to eat. I need everyone to scream and yell and cheer him on!" The crowd did as they were asked, hooting and hollering.

At the sound of the name Dean Winchester, a party of four customers got up from their booth and quickly walked out the front door, followed by a busboy. Once in the parking lot, the customers stopped dead, causing the busboy to run into them. They looked at each other, panicked eyes gone solid black, ran to their vehicles and left.

Dean asked for a big glass of water, no ice, and another double shot of bourbon.

The waitress brought out a plate of three fried shrimp, a bowl of salad, a little plate with a dinner roll, and a baked potato. Right behind her was a waiter carrying a large oval plate holding the largest single piece of meat they had ever seen.

He lowered it to the table with a heavy thud.

"Ok, now, you take a bite and tell us if we cooked it right." Dean sliced off a hunk of steak and popped it in his mouth. His eyes closed in bliss. "It's awesome."

"Ok, young man. Your time starts now." One of the red 60.00s switched to 59.59 and began counting down.

Sam sat at the edge of his seat. "Dean," he called out.

Dean looked up.

"Twenty minutes."

Dean nodded, remembering what Sam was reminding him of. It took 20 minutes for signals of fullness to reach the brain. If Dean was going to beat this challenge, he stood the best chance if he could eat everything in less than 20 minutes.

Dean surveyed the food in front of him, thinking. The first thing he did was cut the steak into four equal portions.

Sam sat back in his seat, popping a fried shrimp in his mouth. "He's so smart."

Danny smeared horseradish over his prime rib. "What do you mean?"

"Psychology," Bobby interjected. "Break the impossible task down into smaller, more manageable parts."

Sam took a sip of soda, watching the people watching Dean. He sliced through the steak and popped strips into his mouth, chewing just enough to get it down his throat. He ate the first quarter of steak in two minutes, taking little sips of water to help get it down, and raised his whiskey glass, tipping half the contents down his throat. A stocky man with a long beard called out, "Get 'er done."

Dean looked at the food before him, evaluating, thinking. He raised his hand for the waitress and asked for steak sauce and barbeque sauce. While she was getting it, he cut the next quarter of meat into small cubes. He shook steak sauce all over it, and quickly popped each cube into his mouth, taking a sip of water every couple of bites.

The counter read 55:12 when he swallowed the last bit of the second quarter.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off him, his own meal almost completely untouched except for food he could eat with his hands without having to look down to cut it. Dean looked up at Sam every few moments, and the pride on Sam's face clearly fired him up, as did the encouragement and attention from the people in the vicinity.

"Alright, ladies in gentleman, in less than five minutes, this young man has gone through half the steak. That's two and a quarter pounds of steak right there!"

Dean cut the third quarter into long strips, covering them with barbeque sauce, and cut off little bites of steak, alternating them with a forkful of salad. He kept a close eye on the clock. Flashes went off as people took pictures of him. It took him another four minutes to eat the third chunk of meat and the side salad. He raised his whiskey glass again, flashing Sam a blissful grin, and finished what was left. His cheeks were flushed.

He stopped to unbuckle his belt, and tucked in once more. He popped one of the fried shrimp in his mouth, sipped some water, picked up the baked potato with his hands and ate three big bites. He sprinkled the last chunk of steak with black pepper, and repeated his trick of cutting it into strips, then little chunks, so he didn't have to waste time chewing with his teeth. His pace slowed a little, but he kept at it, using the knife and fork to break the meat apart into manageable pieces. He finished the glass of water and asked for another.

He ate like he was a soldier ordered to do a job, and executing it perfectly. Like a soldier who relished the task at hand, and enjoyed every second of it.

Sam asked for another soda, barely hungry, as though he was being satiated by watching Dean eat. Eat, and eat, and eat. Set on a pedestal, all eyes on him, praise thrumming through the crowd, a steak-eating god among men.

It was glorious.

If he was flagging, if his stomach hurt, he gave no indication. Bite after bite, he powered it all down, until all that remained was the dinner roll, a bite of baked potato, and seven cubes of meat.

Dean closed his eyes.

Sam's heart sank. Not because he cared about losing the money, but because Dean had to succeed. He had to. He couldn't fail.

It was important. Deeply important, in a way that Sam could not articulate even to himself. Jesus, Dean, how many times will it take until you get it right? Would not articulate. Not even to himself.

Dean belched, and reached for the baked potato. He forced it down, showing the first real signs of distress.

"You got this, Dean." Dean gritted his teeth, as though willing the contents of his stomach to stay down.

Bobby put his fork down and leaned forward. "Come on, son. Kick it in the ass!"

Dean shook his arms out, and forked up a cube of steak. Then another. Then a third. Four remained, and the dinner roll. He closed his eyes again, and brought his fist to his mouth, chest heaving like he was about to retch.

The restaurant was nearly quiet. Everyone stared at Dean.

Dean opened his eyes, and winked at Sam.

"Oh, you little—" Sam's mouth fell open.

Dean grabbed the remaining pieces of meat in his hand and tossed them into his mouth like popcorn. He devoured the dinner roll in three quick bites. Then he flashed his trademark cocky grin and called out, "That all you got?"

The crowd erupted in cheers. The timer stopped at 44:07. The voice on the loudspeaker said, "Alright, y'all. We have a winner! Dean Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas won the 72 ounce steak challenge in 15 minutes and 53 seconds!"

Dean threw his head back and laughed, the sound of the applause washing over him, the lights from the cameras on his face like fireworks. Sam sat to the side and watched Dean in the limelight, basking in the attention, being treated like a rock star.

Like a king.

The waitress brought Dean a commemorative t-shirt and ceramic boot mug, and a certificate. Dean called out to Sam to come up on the platform. Sam grabbed the back of Dean's head with his hand and pressed their foreheads together. "Happy birthday, Dean," he whispered.

"Best birthday ever," Dean whispered.

The achievement award stated that Dean Winchester had joined the world's most exclusive club, the 72 oz Steak Club, signed and dated by the president. His picture was taken, and his name written on the wall of winners. Strangers came up to pat him on the shoulder and congratulate him.

The waitress returned the fifty-dollar bill to Sam. "You were right."

Sam threw his arm over Dean's shoulder. "There's nothing he can't do."

When Sam and Bobby went to settle the bill, they discovered that Juliane had already covered it in its entirety, and she would not accept so much as a dollar from either of them. She kissed Dean on the cheek. "You did real good." He scratched the back of his head, then kissed her quick and fast on the cheek in return. "Sorry, man," he said to Danny. "Had to."

"Did you mind?" Danny asked Juliane.

"Not one bit," she replied, slipping her arm into his.

"She don't mind, I don't mind." Danny gave Dean a friendly thump across his back.

Dean swayed on his feet.

"You good?" Reggie was watching Dean intently, with tremendous amusement on his face.

Dean walked up to Reggie and poked his finger onto his bolo tie. "I'm… drunk."

Reggie laughed, a low, warm sound.

"And…I'm really fucking full of meat."

That made Reggie snort-laugh, which made Dean laugh, which set everyone off. Suddenly, he raised his hand. "Hang on. Hang on. Shh." He scrabbled at his jeans pocket. "Someone's calling me." By the time he got the phone out, the ringing had stopped. "Damn."

They made their way outside and around the corner to wait for the limo to bring them back, Sam supporting Dean, whose face had gone pale and clammy.

"Looking a little green around the gills there, kid. You alright?" Bobby crutched closer to Dean.

Dean just nodded, as though speaking might set him off. He took a few deep breaths, then leaned against the side of the restaurant, eyes staring up at the night sky. "I'm ok," he said finally. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

The call had been from John.

Dean went paper white. Sam peered over at the display, recognized the number, and all the color drained from his face too. Dean's face twisted. He pushed the button to put it on speaker phone and hit play. "Let's all hear this. Yeah?"

"Dean," Bobby began, but then the electronic voice said, "You have one new message," and then the message played.

Silence.

More silence.

Sounds of people talking in the distance, and the crack of a pool cue striking a ball.

"Dean…" John's voice issued from the tiny speaker. "Dean, I…" Then a muffled, "Hell." A click.

Then nothing.

Dean's fingers loosened their hold on the phone. Sam quickly took it, folding it shut and tucking it into his pocket.

Dean balled his hands into fists at his side, chest rising and falling. Then he bent over, hands braced on his knees, heaving up everything, all of it.

Sam supported him, kept him from sinking to his hands and knees.

Bobby stroked his back softly. "Let it out, son. Better an empty house than a bad tenant." Dean retched again, and again. Reggie ran back into the restaurant, and came back with a large plastic cup of water and another of ginger ale.

Reggie waited until Dean had thrown up everything in his stomach. He handed Dean a wad of paper napkins to wipe his mouth, and had him drink some ginger ale. "It ain't your 21st birthday if you don't puke your guts up in an alley. You're 100% grown man now." He and Bobby exchanged a sad glance over Dean's head.

Finally, Dean's stomach settled. The limo pulled around to take them back to the hotel. Everyone was quiet during the ride back, Sam holding Dean in his arms and urging him to take nearly constant sips of water. Once safely inside the Sanctuary, Dean brushed his teeth in the kitchen sink using one of the dozens of new toothbrushes Juliane had in her supplies closet. He gladly accepted a lemon soda over ice, and sat down on the couch. "Really. I'm ok now." Sam gave him a knowing look. "Really," Dean protested. "It's fine." Sam nodded, letting it go. For the time being.

Dean drank his soda quickly, and asked for another. By the time he got a third of that one down, he had brightened up considerably. And when Juliane said, "Do you think you could handle presents and cake? Or should we wait until tomorrow?" Dean perked up even more. "Now. Now is good."

Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder, a casual movement. "I'll give you my presents back in our place, ok?" Dean read the unspoken message in Sam's eyes (they aren't things I can give you in front of other people) and the bad feelings left by John's aborted message vanished almost completely.

Danny and Juliane brought out a stack of wrapped packages. "Oh, you didn't have to—" Dean began, but Danny just tossed him a present and said, "Open." It was a bundle of classic Batman comic books.

"No way."

"You like them?" Danny watched Dean's face for signs of disappointment.

"I love Batman."

"He loves Batman," Sam added.

Dean unwrapped present after present. A nice bottle of Bourbon, a five-pound Hershey's Bar, more comic books, a chess set ("I picked that one out myself," Danny said proudly), a set of wrenches, a gorgeous pair of cowboy boots and an elegant Stetson cowboy hat that Dean immediately put on, much to Sam's secret discomfiture. Dean noticed the color rising in Sam's cheeks, and whispered, "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll leave the hat and boots on." This caused Sam to choke on the sip of water he was taking, and cough and sputter.

If Dean had been able to smile any wider, his face would have cracked and bled.

Then Reggie rose to his feet. "What I got you was a bit hard to wrap, so I'm going to just bring it out." Juliane brought him into her room, and he emerged carrying a long shape covered in the horse blanket. He held it out to Dean, who unfolded the blanket to reveal what was inside.

"No way."

"Go on."

Dean lifted up the guitar case and set it on his lap. Snapping open the clasps, he lifted the lid. Inside was nestled a black Ovation Applause acoustic guitar.

"It's not top of the line, but the action is light, and it's got great tone. It's a good little guitar to start you off with."

Dean brushed his fingers across the strings with reverence. He looked up at Reggie, his eyes wet. "I always wanted to learn to play."

"Good," Reggie intoned. "Because I'm gonna teach you."

Sam didn't think he could love Reggie any more—until that moment, when he showed how close he'd been paying attention to all that Dean had in him.

"Shit. I can't top that," Bobby grumbled…eyes suddenly going bright and mischievous. "Not until I get you boys home, that is."

Juliane flinched.

"See, I've been working on something special for your 21st birthday for a long time now."

Dean sat up straight. "What?"

"That would spoil the surprise."

"But today's my actual birthday. So you don't have to save it as a surprise."

Bobby leaned forward and ruffled Dean's hair, like he'd been doing since Dean was a little guy. "More fun if I do, son."

Juliane brought out a cake with candles. Dean blew them out, and cut into it. To his surprise, beneath the layer of white-frosted spice cake was an apple pie baked right in. The look of surprise on his face that she would have remembered that about him almost broke Sam's heart, but the sheer joy that emanated from him the next moment was like a sun flare. Sam watched Dean as he took his first bite, surrounded by wrapping paper and presents and people who loved him, and all the pain and hardship they'd known melted away.

---

In the No-Name Bar on the outskirts of town (No-Name Bar was its official, legal name), John Winchester returned from the pay phone by the bathroom and took his seat on a stool in the far corner of the bar, near the jukebox. It was playing the sixth Zeppelin song in a row, because John had shoved enough dollar bills in the front to punch up a baker's dozen of Led Zep songs.

Lined up on the bar were two rows of three shots of whiskey. Three in front of him. Three in front of the empty stool to his left.

John picked up a shot glass and raised it up to the empty space at his side. "Happy 21st, son." He held up the glass, amber liquid gleaming in the soft overhead light like a dying star, turning it in his fingers.

He brought it to his mouth, a drop of bourbon spilling onto his lips. The scent of it, the taste of it on his tongue, roared through him, promising oblivion.

He lowered the shot glass to the bar, rubbing a trembling hand over his beard, and rose to his feet. Throwing down a ten-dollar bill as a tip, he turned on his heel and walked away.

The shot glass still gleamed amber, full to the brim.

(Author: More to come soon!)

Comments

sgadm

[teddy22888.livejournal.com]

Reading new chapters of SGaDM always makes me happy. Thank you so much. :D

I also ate a slice of banana-pumpkin pie for breakfast the other day. Thanks for the inspiration for that!! LOL

Re: sgadm

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

Yay! I'm so glad to hear it. Thank you. And that pie sounds awesome!

[imaginecoolname.livejournal.com]

Oh, I was wondering if we'd hear from John in this chapter. Glad that the pain of that phone call was erased by all the loving people surrounding Dean on his birthday. Also, yay for him winning that challenge, he so deserves to have an awesome day like that.

Thanks so much for this chapter, it was fantastic as always! :D More of this awesome story so soon after the last bit makes me very happy indeed. ;)

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked Dean getting to have a moment in the sun, and that I properly balanced the pain of that phone call with everything else. I try to keep the angst and comfort in a certain ratio. :)

[trekkiepirate.livejournal.com]

This was frickin' beautiful! I laughed and cheered and cried and my heart got all melty and glowy. *hugs dear Dean* I cannot wait for more (Sam's gifts to Dean, Bobby's surprise!)

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

Oh, y'all are gonna LOVE Bobby's surprise. :)

And yep, Sam's special presents... that's going to be so lovely.

And I'm so happy to hear you laughed and cheered and cried. Thank you for telling me that.

[trekkiepirate.livejournal.com]

I'm trying to guess what it might be like I'm a kid on Christmas Eve, looking at the presents under the tree and trying to guess what's inside. :)

[deansdirtybb.livejournal.com]

I love Dean getting his big day with family, and Sammy so proudly working to make sure he got everything he deserved. I adore you for making a point of including and expressing Dean's intelligence <3

And John, ugh, that man! I want to slap him, I get the torn father and that somehow underneath his bullshit he loves the boys...but if you can't get it right, stay the fuck away and stop hurting them. I hope the fact that he left the shot full means he is going to try to get his crap together again.

Can't wait to see Sammy give Dean the rest of his present!!!

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

John is trying. That's his whole story arc, that he made some terrible mistakes, actually acknowledged them, and is trying to be better. This scene was quite significant for him -- the choice he made while no one was watching. John is trying.

And I just... when I write about Dean's intelligence and it being acknowledged by people, it soothes the little wounds I carry from the show itself. It makes me feel really good that other people notice and appreciate that. Thank you.

[adelheide.livejournal.com]

*coos and giggles and rolls around in this fic*

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

This is weird. When I reply from my notification, it looks like the reply does not post. But I can reply here. Huh. Anyway, yay! I am so glad you love this fic as much as I do.

[rianadrarrylove.livejournal.com]

Aw I'm so happy Dean's having a good birthday! I'm excited for Bobby's and Sam's presents, but Juliane flinched!! Does she think they'll be going back to Bobby's for Dean's gift!?

Also I loved how the demons literally ran out of the restaurant when Dean's name was announced. :D

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

Hahahahhah thank you for catching and commenting on that. I'm working that in as a running joke. :)

And yes, Juliane thinks they're going to be going home with Bobby.