The Lounge || Sams of a Feather (4 of 4)

While Dean went to order, Sam knelt down next to Oscar, his drab clothes matching the small kid’s the best out of the group. “I grew up in a motel, too,” he said, looking between the spritely Sam and Bowman and Oscar. “When we visited Wellwood, it was a lot brighter than my old home.”

“You went to Wellwood?” spritely Sam repeated, respect in his face.

Sam grinned. “And Dean went and snatched Bowman right out of the air, so you better watch out if you ever run into him.”

As expected, Bowman bristled. His wings puffed up and he straightened. “He better not try,” he warned. “I’ll bop him if he does. Just figures I’d wait to meet him and he’d try to grab me!”

Oscar smiled faintly. “W-well, Dean’s not the worst human to grab ya,” he admitted. He shared a look with the Sam next to him; they’d both been grabbed at first, only for it to turn out to be one of the best things that could have happened to them. If they had simply run away, their stories never would have begun.

“Do you really, um, bop humans? That’s real brave!”

Jacob, feeling like more of a giant than ever with such a tiny kid at the table, rested his head on his arms. “He definitely will if he gets the chance,” he replied. “Hell, Sam might join him if the human earns it.”

Spritely Sam snickered. “You should know.”

After ordering food at the bar, Dean enlisted the kids help in carrying it all over to the table with the new trio at it. Dean had the drinks on his tray (since he didn’t quite trust his younger-self alone with the mugs of beer), while the other Dean had the food on his tray, and balancing carefully on it was Sam with the smaller tray of food and drink.

“Whoa, that’s awesome!” the teenager declared when he spotted the glider sitting on the table.

“C’mon, put the tray down!” Sam bugged him, almost hopping in place where he waited.

Both Deans did so, the teenager mussing up Sam’s hair for the barked commands.

“We’ve got a round of drinks on the house,” Dean said, passing off a mug for Jacob and putting his own to the side. The younger Sam bolted to the small table sitting at the center of the table, putting his tray down and separating the drinks and food.

“Pine tea,” Dean said as Sam put a mug down on an empty spot, “milk for growing bones, and juice.” He gave his younger self a smirk.

“Plus the bartender gave us these mintcakes!” Sam announced, his short arms just able to reach to place one in each spot. “Oscar, ya gotta try one!”

The mention of food caught Oscar’s attention, to no one’s surprise. His eyes lingered on the glider for a second more, but soon enough he turned to wander curiously towards the table and his own Sam. “Mint cakes?” he echoed, already eyeing one of the places next to a glass of milk.

“No way,” Bowman said, following. He reached the table just as Oscar did and stared dubiously at his setting. The steaming pine tea and mintcake looked like they could have been made in Wellwood itself. “How–”

“The man at the bar can make any food we want!” Oscar explained with a delighted grin.

Jacob sat up so he could spy on the miniature settings on the table. The tiny cakes were familiar indeed. They looked no different from the ones Sam had shared with him.

“Better try it out, Bowman. Make sure it’s up to par.”

Bowman shot him a glare, even as he picked up the mug of tea. “I don’t know what that means!” he groused, before taking a sip.

“Do ya like it?” Oscar asked, watching Bowman closely. He’d never seen someone with wings before, so both Bowman and the new Sam fascinated him.

Bowman sighed and shrugged. “It’s like my aunt made it,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“Dean, you should try!” the younger Sam enthused, holding up an extra mintcake for his brother.

Giving his older self the side-eye, the teenager sat down right by where Sam’s seat was. “Mintcakes?” he asked dubiously, reaching out and letting Sam put one down on his fingertip.

His worries washed away the moment he bit down on the candy-sized morsel. “This is almost as good as pie.”

“Told you,” Sam said smugly.

Dean finished off his bite, then begrudgingly drank the juice the original Dean had ordered him. It was good, just not as good as a ice cold mug of beer. He eyes that up, then looked for something else to distract him.

Bowman and the newest Sam were obvious choices.

“How fast are you, anyway?” Dean asked, poking at one of the sprite’s leafy wings.

The offended wing twitched back from the contact and fanned open. He barely resisted slapping his wing against the intruding hand; Dean was just a kid. This one was, anyway. More than one of most blasted humans should be more confusing.

Faster than anyone in Wellwood!“ he boasted proudly.

"Where’s that?” Oscar asked, already up on his chair and swinging his legs back and forth. He’d made some progress on his mintcake but now he watched Bowman’s twitching wings.

Jacob smirked. “He’s got a point, Bowman. Not in Wellwood now.”

“So, I’m plenty fast,” Bowman protested. “Right, Sam?”

“Faster than my glider,” Sam said indulgently. “And faster than the other sprites. He sneaks out to race the others at night.” He looked up at the teenager, smiling. It was like looking into a mirror of the older brother he’d lost so long ago. His Dean would be older, like the other one sitting with them, but it was nice to remember. “We’ll have to show you after we eat.”

“While you eat, how ‘bout you tell us what brought you to Bowman?” the other Sam offered. “We’ve got a collection of stories going so far, and I have a feeling you might have one of the more interesting ones.”

“Then maybe I can try the glider?” asked the younger Sam from where he was sitting, his legs kicking back and forth under the seat.

Spritely Sam smiled and nodded. “I think I can manage a ride or two,” he said, eyeing up his younger self and judging his size. “There’s a few extra belts in my supplies I could rig up.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s