ficpost, Winchester Family Barbecues
Jul. 4th, 2007 02:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mari4212Title: Winchester Family Barbecues
Fandom: If it stops being Supernatural any time in the near future, I'll let you know.
Characters/Parings: John, Mary, Dean, Sam, John/Mary, a few OCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Still Kripke's.
Summary: John's barbecued a lot over his years.
One
John’s fifteen when his father first lets him help with the barbecue. They spend a good ten minutes arranging and re-arranging the coals, trying to get them into a perfect heap.
Of course, then his mother comes out, takes one look at their attempt at a pile and laughs her head off before putting them all into a more efficient arrangement in less than a minute and lighting it with a long taper candle.
His dad just rolled his eyes and got out the steaks, which made John’s mother laugh all the harder as she walked back towards the house. Once she was out of earshot, he leaned down and whispered in John’s ear, “Make sure you marry a woman smarter than you are. You’ll never regret it.”
John didn’t always listen to what his dad had to say. But that piece of advice? That was something he was going to have to hold onto.
Two
Dean’s three years old and loves getting into everything he isn’t supposed to. It makes John laugh, especially when Mary gets this exasperated look on her face or makes a comment along the lines of “he’s your kid, you do something about it”.
So when Dean ends up burying himself in a pile of charcoal briquettes in the middle of February, John’s not surprised to find himself shoved out onto the backyard with the rest of the bag and told to use them up or watch them get tossed into the trash because she wasn’t fishing his son out of them again.
He did wish she’d let him stop long enough to grab his coat, though. Barbecued chicken took forever to cook when it was this cold out.
Three
He didn’t do much cooking, these days. Even during the school year, when he tried to stay settled in apartments for at least a full semester at a time for the boys, it was just easier to get by on takeout and food from the local diners.
But they were spending a week or so at this campground near a lake where there’d been some suspicious drownings over the past few years, and it was just too far to go to eat out for every meal. So he’d grabbed some charcoal and the basic supplies on his last run into town, and he let Dean help him get the fire started.
Besides, neither of the boys had ever had S’mores, and he had to fix that before they were into their teens.
Four
He was laid up for a week or two, until his leg healed up enough for him to stand walking on it. Dean was seventeen and took charge of everything like a pro, getting Sam and himself to and from school, changing John’s bandages, grabbing food from diners and the local grocers for them to eat. Somehow he’d taught himself how to cook, at least the basic things. John still was a little hazy on how that had happened, and Dean never really explained when he asked him, just mumbled something vague about taking home ec because of all the girls in the class.
The previous owners of their current house had left this rickety old grill behind when they’d left. And one afternoon when it was too hot to want to turn on the oven, Dean fired it up and slapped some burgers and a few random vegetables on.
It felt oddly normal, like something out of the life they hadn’t gotten to live. He almost expected to hear Mary in the other room, helping Sam with homework problems.
John coughed and blinked. He’d blame any tears on the bit of smoke from the grill seeping in through the open screened door.
Five
It was one of the last peaceful meals they ate together as a family. He’d asked Sam what he wanted to do to celebrate his graduation from high school, and Sam had blinked for a minute, as if he hadn’t been expecting his father to even remember. That stung more than he would have thought possible, but the ache was soothed a bit when his son hesitatingly asked if they could barbecue again.
They took a cooler full of steaks, potato salad, and marshmallows down to one of the city parks that evening and spent the night hovering over the fire with long sticks, swatting at the flies when they got too close to the food. The only excitement came when someone else’s dog got loose from its leash and decided that Dean’s leg was its soul mate. Dean spent a good twenty minutes trying to shake the dog loose without inflicting mortal damage, growing more disgusted with every hump the dog managed.
John didn’t think he or Sam had laughed so hard in years.
Fandom: If it stops being Supernatural any time in the near future, I'll let you know.
Characters/Parings: John, Mary, Dean, Sam, John/Mary, a few OCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Still Kripke's.
Summary: John's barbecued a lot over his years.
One
John’s fifteen when his father first lets him help with the barbecue. They spend a good ten minutes arranging and re-arranging the coals, trying to get them into a perfect heap.
Of course, then his mother comes out, takes one look at their attempt at a pile and laughs her head off before putting them all into a more efficient arrangement in less than a minute and lighting it with a long taper candle.
His dad just rolled his eyes and got out the steaks, which made John’s mother laugh all the harder as she walked back towards the house. Once she was out of earshot, he leaned down and whispered in John’s ear, “Make sure you marry a woman smarter than you are. You’ll never regret it.”
John didn’t always listen to what his dad had to say. But that piece of advice? That was something he was going to have to hold onto.
Two
Dean’s three years old and loves getting into everything he isn’t supposed to. It makes John laugh, especially when Mary gets this exasperated look on her face or makes a comment along the lines of “he’s your kid, you do something about it”.
So when Dean ends up burying himself in a pile of charcoal briquettes in the middle of February, John’s not surprised to find himself shoved out onto the backyard with the rest of the bag and told to use them up or watch them get tossed into the trash because she wasn’t fishing his son out of them again.
He did wish she’d let him stop long enough to grab his coat, though. Barbecued chicken took forever to cook when it was this cold out.
Three
He didn’t do much cooking, these days. Even during the school year, when he tried to stay settled in apartments for at least a full semester at a time for the boys, it was just easier to get by on takeout and food from the local diners.
But they were spending a week or so at this campground near a lake where there’d been some suspicious drownings over the past few years, and it was just too far to go to eat out for every meal. So he’d grabbed some charcoal and the basic supplies on his last run into town, and he let Dean help him get the fire started.
Besides, neither of the boys had ever had S’mores, and he had to fix that before they were into their teens.
Four
He was laid up for a week or two, until his leg healed up enough for him to stand walking on it. Dean was seventeen and took charge of everything like a pro, getting Sam and himself to and from school, changing John’s bandages, grabbing food from diners and the local grocers for them to eat. Somehow he’d taught himself how to cook, at least the basic things. John still was a little hazy on how that had happened, and Dean never really explained when he asked him, just mumbled something vague about taking home ec because of all the girls in the class.
The previous owners of their current house had left this rickety old grill behind when they’d left. And one afternoon when it was too hot to want to turn on the oven, Dean fired it up and slapped some burgers and a few random vegetables on.
It felt oddly normal, like something out of the life they hadn’t gotten to live. He almost expected to hear Mary in the other room, helping Sam with homework problems.
John coughed and blinked. He’d blame any tears on the bit of smoke from the grill seeping in through the open screened door.
Five
It was one of the last peaceful meals they ate together as a family. He’d asked Sam what he wanted to do to celebrate his graduation from high school, and Sam had blinked for a minute, as if he hadn’t been expecting his father to even remember. That stung more than he would have thought possible, but the ache was soothed a bit when his son hesitatingly asked if they could barbecue again.
They took a cooler full of steaks, potato salad, and marshmallows down to one of the city parks that evening and spent the night hovering over the fire with long sticks, swatting at the flies when they got too close to the food. The only excitement came when someone else’s dog got loose from its leash and decided that Dean’s leg was its soul mate. Dean spent a good twenty minutes trying to shake the dog loose without inflicting mortal damage, growing more disgusted with every hump the dog managed.
John didn’t think he or Sam had laughed so hard in years.