The kid waiting outside the door stepped in hesitantly, his green eyes darting from side to side. “Dad?” he called hesitantly. Two small figures, standing on his hand, looked around with him, one eager and one nervous.
The man in the room, now standing behind the bar calmly cleaning a glass, smiled. “No dads here, I’m afraid,” he said, meaning it in more than one way. “But food’s on the house, and the quarters for the arcade are endless.
"How ‘bout you come in… stay awhile and rest.”
And with that, the Lounge was in business.
Sam arched his eyebrows at what Dean was carrying. He could only see two drinks and the two burgers, nothing else. It wasn’t until Dean sat down, across from younger Dean, that Sam realized there was more cupped in his hand.
Dean held out his hand to Sam. Three different trays were cupped between the wrinkles in his skin, by some miracle all standing upright. Sam hurried to take them, realizing Dean had no way of placing stuff down while his hands were full.
Peeking under the first bowl, Sam announced “Mac and cheese and fluff,” vaguely surprised that the strange obsession from his childhood existed in a bar, nevermind that it was sized for them, tiny noodles perfectly made and all. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he placed Oscar’s sandwich in front of him, ruffling the mousy hair. “And a salad.” He grinned his thanks at Dean, staring at the tiny leaves and smaller tomatoes.
“Plus two burgers made right,” Dean said, with his hand freed finally able to hand off younger Dean’s food.
The teenager scowled at the soda. “What? You’re the only one that gets whiskey?”
Dean ticked a finger at him. “You got a few more years before that, champ,” he said dryly, picking up his whiskey on the rocks. “You’ll live.”
Sam grinned, picking up the beer Dean had gotten him. “Perfect.”
Oscar’s eyes brightened as he picked up his very own peanut butter and jelly sandwich, made with bread perfectly sized for him. He’d never minded when Dean had to squash it down, but he’d never imagined having bread like a human.
He mulled over his first bite while eyeing the drinks the others had. Whiskey and soda were definitely out for him, between the alcohol and the fizz.
He couldn’t help the fascinated glances at the other miniature food on the table. He’d never seen a tomato so small, but there were several in older-Sam’s salad. The pasta in young-Sam’s dish was probably too small for the two Deans to see.
“I wish I knew how ta make food that size,” he announced. “I could make my own sandwiches and-and whatever fluff is and everything.”
Younger Sam picked up his fork, the fluff hanging down from it, and laughed. “Maybe we can make some fluff sometime,” he said wistfully, wishing they could go back to Oscar’s motel in the real world and take him along. “I think that’s the same either size.”
He bit down onto it, and had to close his eyes at the unexpected explosion of flavors. It was over two months now since he’d been cursed, and it was delicious. Sam had almost forgotten what it was like having food that was his size.
The two humans were mostly ignored by the kids and Sam, all three of the smaller folk used to having them around while they were eating. Dean leaned back when he finished the last bite of his burger with a sigh of contentment. It wasn’t often that burgers tastes so fresh with ingredients so crisp. He idly wondered what the apple pie would taste like, knowing that naturally this place would have pie.
“So,” Dean said, “you tell us your story, and we’ll tell you ours.”
Younger Dean smiled ruefully. “I think you already know it starts with Sam’s curse, right?” He waited for Dean to nod. “I was lucky enough to spot him when Dad came back–“
While they talked and caught up, the letters on the TV screen slowly switched, brightening around The Road Not Taken while the other names vanished into the nether. The bartender grinned, knowing soon a new group would join them.
His bar would be hopping in no time at all.