Chapter Text
“I told you both that you could have waited to get the cake, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
I was standing over the couch where Sam and Dean were sitting with their eyes closed. Their faces were pale and they were shivering even though they were wrapped in four layers of blankets. For the past few days it had been raining nonstop, so we thought it would be best to just stay in the bunker and let it pass. However, these idiots went out into the rain, somehow locked themselves out of the Impala, and stood in the rain for almost two hours until I was able to drive over with the spare key. Now there was a soggy cake in the kitchen and the boys were sick and refused to move from the couch.
“No, we couldn’t have,” Sam groaned, “we know how important this is for you (Y/N), and we didn’t have everything here for you to make it. You’re always doing things for us so we figured we should do something for a change.”
“Except,” Dean mumbled, “we can’t bake worth a damn. So we went and bought it.”
I shook my head, “You two are idiots. Now you both need to make your way up to your rooms so you can rest. I’ll bring you each some tea and soup.”
They both groaned and burrowed deeper into their cocoon of blankets. I rolled my eyes and helped Sam up from the couch first. It was awkward supporting Sam considering our whole foot height difference, but somehow we managed to make it to his room.
He slowly crawled into his bed and let out a really depressing sigh before I left to help Dean, which was no different from what happened with Sam.
I went down to the kitchen in the bunker and scavenged for ingredients to make soup for the boys. I managed to find everything I needed for a chicken and rice soup. I filled the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil while I took the chicken out of the fridge and chopped up the vegetables. By the time I got the ingredients into the soup pot, the kettle was letting out an ear splitting whistle. I carefully poured the hot water into two prepared mugs with tea bags and let them steep while I collected the sugar, lemon and honey.
While the soup was cooking, I took the boys mugs up to their rooms along with some crackers. When I got up to Sam’s room, he was laying on his side watching the Price Is Right with a glazed look in his eyes.
“Sam?” I said before entering, “I brought you some tea and crackers.”
“Did you put lemon?”
“Yes, plenty of it.”
“Thank you,” he flashed me a smile then sat up in his bed so he could have his tea. “and sorry about all of this.”
“It’s really no big deal,” I said as I passed him his mug and set his bag of crackers on his nightstand, “I guess it was my fault that you were out there in the first place.”
“And we’re probably going to do it again, so don’t blame yourself.”
I smiled at him and turned to the door, “Drink your tea, the soup should be done in a few minutes.”
I made my way down the hall to Dean’s room with his tea and crackers, and was not surprised to see him sprawled across his bed face down, fast asleep.
I set his tea and crackers down on his night stand and stood there for a moment just looking at him. I grabbed the blanket that was draped over the end of his bed and covered him with it, then went back down to the kitchen to check on the soup.
As I was taking the bowls and glasses out of the cupboard, Castiel suddenly appeared in the kitchen, startling me. I dropped one of the bowls, shards of blue ceramic scattering across the concrete floor.
“For the love of all things deep fried and sugarcoated, Castiel. Do not do that to me again.”
“I apologize,” he said simply.
I sighed and pointed to the corner of the room where the broom was standing, “Can you please get the broom and dust pan and help me clean this mess up?”
He had a confused look on his face, but went to get the items I requested anyway. Together, we cleaned up the broken bits of ceramic. I grabbed a new bowl and continued what I had been doing before he arrived, ladling soup into the bows and pouring orange juice into the cups.
“Castiel, can you take this soup and glass of juice over to your sick boyfriend? Thank you.”
Castiel’s eyes widened, “Boyfriend?”
“Yes, the love of your life. Now go, I need to take this to Sam before it gets cold.”
“But, why do they need soup?”
“Because they’re sick.”
“Is it ghost sickness again?”
“No, Castiel –“
“Do we need to salt the –“
I put my hand in front of his face to stop him from continuing, “They just have a cold. Now go.”
When I finally made it to Sam’s room, my ears were buzzing from all of Castiel’s questions. Sam was sitting up in bed, his blanket pulled up to his chin, flipping through channels on his TV. He already had dark circles around his eyes, but his face wasn’t as pale as earlier. I set his soup and orange juice down on his night stand then sat down on the chair near his bed.
“How I Met Your Mother’s final season is ridiculous,” Sam said after I sat down, “why bring this perfect woman into Ted’s life only to kill her off so he can be with Robin?”
“I have no idea,” I said, reaching for one of the left over crackers on his night stand, “I think she was perfect though, they should have kept her.”
Sam looked over to the night stand and smiled, “Thanks for the soup. What kind is it?”
“It’s a super secret sick soup that is a family recipe, if I told you what it was I would have to –“
“It looks like chicken and rice,”
Sam smirked when I rolled my eyes at him, “You could at least humor me.”
“I’d rather just eat the soup,” Sam said as he pulled the blanket off of him and swung his legs over the side of the bed to face the night stand.
After a few spoonfuls of soup and a couple sips of juice, Sam finally asked me something.
“So, the whole cake thing,” He began, “how did that start?”
I looked down at the stained polyester chair and traced the faded gold patterns with my index finger. I’ve never told anyone about this before, but in the five years that I’ve known Sam and Dean, they’ve noticed my habit and I couldn’t avoid the truth any longer.
“(Y/N)?” Sam spoke again in a quiet voice.
“So I had a brother,” I started, not daring to look into his eyes, “and, you know, a job went bad and we lost him. So, on his birthday, I always make his favorite cake. He never ate any cake unless it was made by me.”
Sam was quiet. He knew what it was like to lose someone you love. The boys had told me about everything they had been through the years before I knew them. I could tell he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he said finally, “I am glad that you said something though. You shouldn’t have to cope with this on your own. And I’m really glad that you didn’t do anything crazy like we did.”
I smiled, “You mean stupid,”
Sam smiled and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever.”
We heard a loud crash outside that startled the both of us. Suddenly Castiel appeared the room, his trench coat charred and his hair a mess.
“(Y/N), we have a problem,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Dean wanted more soup, and I tried to copy what you did, but I think I may have made a grave mistake.”
We heard a loud BOOM from what I assumed was something in the kitchen. Sam and I gave each other matching looks of fear.
“Run,” is all he said to me, and I quickly jumped out of the chair and dashed towards the kitchen. It was just another day in the bunker.