Chapter Text
"Oh, god," Sam breathed, squinting at a photo as he pulled it close.
"What?" Dean asked, lazily flipping through a magazine on the other bed. Sam pulled the photo out of his journal.
"Remember this?"
Dean turned and squinted, then reached over between the beds for the image and Sam let him take it. Dean's eyes lit up and he started a full-hearted laugh.
"Who. The shit. Thought that day needed to be immortalized with a photo?" Dean guffawed, nearly tearing with laughter as he handed it back. "That day? Really?!"
Sam laughed and shook his head.
"Yeah I have no idea," Sam trailed off, staring at the photo of Dean, Sam and John posing with Dean's casted leg in the hospital. All three were smiling, but Sam and Dean looked particularly worse for wear. Pale, exhausted faces, bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath... Sam's hair was mussed and his eyes squinted from having just woken up next to Dean in the hospital bed.
"That day was like a Lifetime movie," Sam murmured.
"Yeah," Dean agreed casually, then stopped and looked at Sam. "'specially for you, dude," Dean teased. Sam turned to look at Dean, mouth open with indignation.
"Ah, eh, uh uh no.. Not-"
"Dude you cried, like, hard," Dean laughed, calling his little brother out.
"Ahm... There were... like... a lot of fucking things... to cry about..." Sam tried to defend, eventually breaking into a smile as Dean started laughing again. Sam looked back down at the photo, turning serious. "Nah, but we all shed tears that day."
Dean stopped and gave Sam a skeptical sidelong glance.
"You totally cried the most."
"I did not!" Sam whined back immediately. "You totally cried like a...a..."
"-Sam Winchester?"
"No," Sam laughed. He didn't know what it was but he sucked at comebacks. "Seriously I didn't. We were like tied..."
"Mm, mm," Dean shook his head, smiling as he continued to fake-browse the magazine. Just then the door open and John walked in. Dean looked up and set the magazine down next to him.
"Hey, Dad, question."
"Yeah shoot," John grunted as he carried some groceries and a six-pack into the kitchen area. Dean got up to follow his dad to grab one of the beers.
"The day I tackled a car and broke my leg," Dean ringed the beer cap with a pop. "Who cried more?"
"Sam," John returned immediately.
"HEY OH!" Dean yelled, stepping into the living area to point at Sam who was still on the bed.
"Dad, no, c'mon that's not true..." Sam appealed, starting to get up and walk over to them. He leaned against the doorframe just as John finished a gulp of his beer. John smiled at Sam and shrugged.
"It's cool, Sam, we've known you're a girl for awhile now," Dean slapped Sam on the back.
"Thanks," Sam replied miserably, rolling his eyes.
"OH! That reminds me. Dad - can I take Sammy out to the Casino down, um," Dean turned himself around in the middle of the kitchen, then pointed at the window, "that way? I don't know; it's west."
John raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"How you gonna do that when Sam's seventeen?"
"Oh I don't know... Maybe the fake I made for him'll work," Dean said loudly, flourishing it around.
"Seriously?!" Sam asked, rushing over to grab Dean's swinging arm to rip the card from his hand. Dean let him, smiling back at his dad.
"Aw. My youngest son's first fake ID," John said. Dean pointed at John, his charming grin coming out in full force.
"Don't ever tell me... That I'm a good influence."
John tsked.
"I'd never say that, Dean," he said with sincerity, winking. Dean winked back and pivoted into the living room. Sam was examining the ID under the bedside table lamp.
"So what's your game of choice if you guys go tonight?" John asked, casually following Dean.
"Dean," Sam called out, randomly grabbing Dean's shirtsleeve just as he sat down next to him. About to answer his father, Dean turned at Sam's touch, unconsciously prioritizing.
"What's up?" Dean murmured, scrutinizing the ID, hoping he hadn't missed anything. Sam looked up at him, confused.
"I don't get the name."
Dean grinned.
"Francis Xavier's Professor X in X-Men."
"Oh gotchya," Sam nodded and turned back to the ID as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Dean turned back to his dad, rubbing his hands.
"Blackjack," he decided.
"No poker?"
"Nah," Dean shrugged, "Too many sharks at poker in a real casino," he explained as he turned to look at Sam.
"Whaddaya say?" Dean asked, nudging Sam. Sam looked up.
"Yeah totally. Let's do it."
...
"All right you boys have fun," John said wearily, moving to go sit down to watch a game on the couch. Sam, dressed and ready, moved around to go to the bathroom and shut the door.
"Sure you don't want to come?" Dean asked as he put his jacket on and flipped the collar. John shook his head, then tilted it in thought. He'd never actually taught Dean Blackjack...
"Hey Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the objective when you play Blackjack?"
"Bust the dealer."
"Where do you sit at the table?"
"Dealer's right."
John couldn't help but smile.
"That's called counting cards, you know," John warned playfully. Dean rolled his eyes.
"The house's edge is worse, Dad. And counting cards is a band."
Sam walked into the room just then, having caught Dean's last sentence.
"That's Counting Crows, you idiot."
"Oh well whatever," Dean waved, indifferent. "Don't worry we won't get sighted," he said more to Sam than John. John smiled and Sam shrugged, willing to trust Dean's promise.
"Okay, c'mon let's go, Francis." Dean tugged Sam's sleeve and Sam stumbled as he waved goodbye to John. They reached their respective doors and huddled into the Impala, waiting for the heat to kick in before they took her out. Dean cupped his hands to his mouth and breathed out, heating them up. Sam was doing the same. It gave Dean a second to reflect on the photo.
The month prior to that picture had been erased in the history of the Winchester family. Completely obliterated, it wasn't even allowed to be referenced. It was taboo. It was pretty weird to both Dean and John - they were over it and actually kind of remembered that day in the hospital as being one of Sam's most shining moments. Neither of them could hold back the wave of affection and love they felt for their youngest when they pulled that memory up in their heads.
Sam was obviously okay to talk about that day given that he'd shown Dean the picture just now, but ribbing Sam for having acted the way he had the month before? That was off-limits. Even in jest (and Dean had tried every once in awhile), Sam's guilt and shame over how he'd treated Dean would just come back full force. Dean would have to break the act and tell Sam that he was just kidding, that he hadn't meant anything by it, and that he was genuinely sorry for bringing it up.
Dean wasn't a huge fan that Sam wouldn't let it go or that Sam refused to lighten up about it. And yet, at the same time, deep down - so far down that Dean would never admit it (even to himself) - it made him feel pretty damn good.
Fin