holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

John doesn’t know why the lady across the counter at
the gas station goes a little pale when he says: “If you’d ring it up quickly
that’d be great, ‘cause me and my boys are in a bit of a hurry.”

Impatience claws at him when she glances out the window
at the Impala. “Those are your sons?” she asks, faintly.

John follows her gaze. Dean’s in the front seat reading
a map, Sam’s slouching moodily in the backseat. Nothing is out of the ordinary,
and John says tightly: “Yeah. Now, if we could hurry this up?”

Her eyes flicker over to John’s for only a moment, and
there’s something in her eyes. Fear perhaps; John sees fear in everyone’s eyes these
days, but this just might be pity,
and John glares at her as she hands him his change.

“God bless you all,” is the last thing she says, and
John must stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Fuck, he’s
happy to leave these bible belt states, even if it’s for a wendigo in North
Dakota.

John doesn’t know that she’s seen his boys before.

He doesn’t know that just the night before, his boys
had wandered into the same gas station with Dean’s arm possessively slung over
Sam’s shoulder. He doesn’t know that Dean had bought Sam ice-cream; doesn’t
know that Dean had kissed Sam’s pink mouth right there in front of her; doesn’t
know the smug smirk on Dean’s face as he’d made Sammy blush prettily beneath fluorescent
lights.

John doesn’t know that she’d cooed over them and asked
how long they’d been together.

John doesn’t know that Sam had gazed dreamily up at
Dean and said: “Since forever.”