Chapter Text
Dean tapped nervously on the diner table. It was a little sticky, but that wasn’t the problem. Sam had promised him gluten free buns, but he wasn’t seeing them on the menu, and he always felt like a douche for asking for them. The waitress came back and asked if they had decided on what they wanted. He gave Sam look, which Sam chose to ignore while he gave the waitress his order.
“And for you sweetie?” she asked, pen poised over notepad.
“Do you-uh-“ he coughed. “Do you have gluten free hamburger buns?” He felt his cheeks burn, and the waitress nodded.
“Sure do; what kind of burger would you like?” She asked. She was tall, long curly dark brown hair, and was wearing a grey tank top that revealed a hint of cleavage.
“Bacon cheeseburger,” he said.
“Fries?” Dean nodded, staring back down at the table.
“Thanks,” Sam and Dean said as the waitress told them she’d be right back with their orders. The boys were silent for a bit, Sam fiddling with his phone, and Dean staring out the window hoping that the buns aren’t stale or dry. Dean missed bread. It started months ago with headaches. And then the worst farts of his life. Sam finally convinced him to go to the doctor when Dean couldn’t stop shitting constantly. The doctor ran a few tests, and told him to cut wheat out of his diet. Dean thought he’d been handed a death sentence. No beer. No pie. No hamburger buns. No pie. No onion rings. No pie. No bread. No pizza. No pasta. NO PIE!! The list went on. Sam, being the nerd he was, went on the internet and began doing research on what Dean could eat. There was a variety gluten-free foods to replace what he couldn’t have, but he missed pie. Even the cheap pies from McDonald’s would be like heaven, he thought. He had hoped that maybe after a few months he’d get used to it, but he missed pie and bread and not sounding like a douche at diners. Sam put his phone down suddenly and looked over at his big brother.
“Stop brooding,” Sam said. “We’re almost to Stanford.” Dean just made an aggravated noise.
“Don’t remind me…” he said. They’d been on the road for three days, the Impala crammed with his and Sam’s stuff all so Sammy could go to college. There was also a moving van somewhere with all the furniture Bobby could spare, but Dean doubted they’d see that till the day after they arrived in Stanford. The things I put up with for you… He thought to himself as the waitress came back with their orders. He eyed the bun with some suspicion but eventually picked up his burger and took a tentative bite. The bun isn’t half bad, so he took another, larger bite before putting it down to reach for the ketchup. Sam forked at his salad, and looked up at Dean.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just eat more vegetables?” Sam asked as he took a bite of spinach and peppers. Dean flipped him off without thinking and got a scandalized look from the lady sitting behind Sam. Sam just shook his head as Dean swallowed his bite and ate a French fry. They went back to eating in silence. Dean was staring at the Impala when he realized that Sam was talking to him again.
“You know, you didn’t have to come,” he repeated.
“You know I’m not going to leave you…” Dean said. “Been taking care of you ever since mom and dad died. You really think I’m gonna let you move across country by yourself? Think again…”
“At some point you’re going to have to cut the umbilical…” Sam said taking another bite. Dean threw a fry at him and got another scandalized look from the lady behind Sam. Dean flashed a smile and she returned to her meal. They finished their meal, paid, and got back in the Impala. Dean yawned as he got behind the wheel. He knew Sam was eager to get to school, and honestly Dean didn’t blame him, but the apartment wasn’t even going to be ready for them until tomorrow, so he figured they may as well get a good night’s rest in a hotel before Sam went crazy trying to get everything set up before classes start later in September. Dean pulled into the Country Inn and turned off the Impala. Sam said nothing as Dean got out of the car, got a room, and came back. Dean tried to not think about how many hotel rooms they had been in before Bobby had taken them in, and pushed the thoughts aside as he threw his bag of clothes on the bed closest to the TV.
“Yes! They have Magic Fingers! Give me all your quarters little bro,” he said slapping his hands together. Sam shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket for some quarters and produced five or six. Dean pulled off his boots, over shirt, and lay back on the bed. He wondered if Dr. Sexy, M.D. was on and Sam ignored him as headed for the shower.