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Dean groaned as he slammed his alarm clock off. 5 am. Dean was more inclined to stay up until 5 am than wake up at that hour. But he had a pretty important mission today, and he had to start early.
Bleary-eyed, he washed, dressed, and slipped out the door. He’d grab a coffee on the way - he didn’t want to risk the coffee machine waking up Sam. That fucker always woke up so early.
And Sam couldn’t know about this. This was a job Dean had to do alone.
Dean vaguely noted the spectacular sunrise, deciding that still didn’t make waking up at the ass-crack of dawn worthwhile. Baby roared to life.
About an hour away - not a long drive, by Winchester standards. Just a few towns over.
Taking advantage of the solo trip, Dean blasted some Taylor Swift, and he had to admit it perked him up a bit. Stopped into Starbucks - Sam could never, ever know about his weakness for frappuccinos. Dean wasn’t supposed to be a “frapp guy”. Hunters take their coffee black and strong enough to dissolve metal. But if he was going to be up this damn early, he may as well treat himself. One venti caramel frappuccino, to go.
Once he felt more awake, he had to admit the crisp morning air was pretty nice. It was quiet and peaceful, except for a few farmers and hellishly-early commuters. He drove through a few little towns, a lot of wheat fields.
Finally, his destination was in sight. It was time.
The farmer’s market opened at 6 am, and the good shit sold out fast.
Dean milled around for a minute, refusing to admit to himself how much he was starting to fit into this kind of scene. Years ago he was in a market with Sam, Sam who always fit into this yuppy apple-pie stuff. Back then, Dean couldn’t imagine ever going back to one by choice. It wasn’t him. Him was dive bars and burgers and leather and guns. Not… not this.
When had this become just another thing he’d do?
Eventually, Dean honed in on his target.
Big, fat, organic strawberries. Perfect.
Dean quickly obtained his prize, alongside some fresh cream, and while he was at it, couldn’t resist buying an apple pie and some donuts - he hadn’t eaten yet, after all.
Checking his watch, he knew he had to pick up the pace - Sammy typically was up around 7. He always went for a run first thing, and probably wouldn’t notice Dean was gone for a little while. But Dean had to time this carefully.
Abandoning the leisure of the drive over, he picked up some speed on the way back, making it in good time. Once he got in, arms loaded, he could hear the shower running - perfect. Sam had already started the coffee too.
Dean took out the steel-cut oats and brown sugar he’d hidden away, and put on a pot to boil. If he timed it right, it would all be ready by the time Sammy was ready to eat.