Chapter Text
There was very little that remained sacrosanct in the Winchester household. First and foremost, muddy boots were to be left by the door; Mary was not about to be hand-scrubbing floors during her retirement years. Second, Abbey – an extremely overweight beagle mix – lived here and was allowed to go anywhere she wanted; this one was mainly for Dean, who often complained about the animal getting hair or slime (she was a little jowly in her old age) all over the place, but would just as often be found later that same evening with the portly pooch sprawled over his lap, enjoying a nice belly rub. Third, and most important of all, was that Sunday dinner was mandatory for all members of the family, no matter what fancy college they worked for or what high profile case was keeping them in the court room for long hours. Mary figured she had put up with quite enough in raising those boys, they could damn well come home to see their mother at least once a week.
This Sunday was different, however. Special. Not, of course, that seeing her boys wasn’t special; some weeks, Mary found herself wishing the clock could turn back a decade or two and bring her babies home for good, making each weekly meal seem a gift. But this time, it was different. This time, for the first time ever, Dean was bringing a guest to Sunday dinner.
Sam had brought girls home before, but only the ones he was very serious about. There had been Amy, in high school, sweet but a little flighty. And then that nice girl Jessica when he was still in law school; Mary had been all but certain that one would last, thinking the pretty blonde would have been the one for her younger son, but she knew things could change on a dime that young, and the two had parted ways not long after Sam had taken his place at a prestigious firm in the city.
But Dean… Dean had always been so private about that part of this life. Of course, Mary knew there had been others. She even knew the names, from hearing them pass from her older son’s lips in offhand comments here and there. There had been a Lydia, and a Cassie, later an Andrea and a Lisa, and Mary had even seen snapshots of the girls on some occasions, all very pretty but very different, as though her son was searching for something he just couldn’t find among the pretty faces that turned his head. None of them lasted. None of them came home for dinner. Not until now.
The chicken was already done, barbequed on the grill with the homemade molasses sauce that Mary knew Dean had always loved, staying warm in the broiler while they waited for his arrival. The corn on the cob was just about ready to boil, coleslaw had been mixed that morning and sat waiting in the fridge alongside a fruit salad, there was a pan of baked beans in the oven, and all that was left was to make a green salad.
She could hear the sounds of a baseball game filtering in from the living room where her husband and youngest son sat in silence, neither speaking as the game’s announcer droned on. Usually the two would be arguing the merits of this or that pitcher, the rules of the game, and the like, and she found it strange they would be so quiet until she heard the two men snore in tandem, making her heave a soft chuckle to herself.
“Sam!” she called, running cool water from the tap over a head of iceberg lettuce. “Sam, I forgot to pick up tomatoes, I need you to run to the store for me.”
She heard a groan and a shuffle coming from the other room. “What, mom?” Sam’s sleep-heavy voice called back.
Mary set her lettuce down on the cutting board and walked to the open archway that led towards the living room. Sam was sprawled out on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions and his face half-buried beneath his arms. John sat in the recliner beside him, head drooped forward and rounded belly rising in rhythm with each loud snore. Mary couldn’t help but smile at the scene.
“I need you to run to the store for me,” she told her son. “I forgot to pick up tomatoes today, I need them for the salad.”
Sam blinked a few times in the afternoon sunlight, and frowned. “What?” he repeated. “Why? I think we have more than enough food, Mom, do we really need a salad?”
Mary raised her eyebrows, hands on her hips. “You telling me you’re going to be eating all of that greasy barbeque chicken, those heavy baked beans…?” she trailed off.
Sam sat up and sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll go for tomatoes,” he agreed, stretching his limbs as he stood and yawning. “Anything else you need while I’m out?”
“Maybe some vanilla ice cream for the pie,” Mary responded after a long moment. She pulled the keys to his father’s truck from the rack in the kitchen, and handed them off to Sam as he walked by. “Anything else you’d like in the salad. You know me, I’m a simple woman when it comes to that. Lettuce, tomato, cucumber. Get anything else you’d like.”
She tried to slip a ten dollar bill into his palm, but Sam quickly snatched his hand away.
“C’mon, Mom,” he said with a frown, shaking his head.
Mary reached up with both hands, pulling her son’s cheek down low enough for her to drop a kiss on it, swatting at his backside when he walked away.
“You hurry up, now. Dean’ll be here with Cas soon, and I know you want to meet her as much as your father and I do,” she called.
Pausing at the back door, Sam gave a lighthearted snort. “Yeah, Dad’s real excited,” he called back dryly, his words punctuated by an extended snore echoing in from the living room.