The breakfast rush had passed and it wasn’t yet time for the lunch rush. You stood at the counter, gazing out the large picture window, watching the people pass by. It was a nice Spring day and the sidewalk was busy: young couples, mothers pushing strollers, joggers, dog walkers.
And then the shiny black car pulled into a spot in front.
You hadn’t seen the car in years but you would know the machine anywhere.
You dropped to the ground, heart pounding. What were they doing here?
‘Probably working,’ you told yourself. Slowly, you peeked above the counter. Sam and Dean had gotten out of the car and were looking around, discussing something. They were dressed in their suits—they were working.
‘Strange,’ you thought. You hadn’t heard anything strange happening around here recently. Neither had Rebecca, your twin in every sense of the word—young, cookie lover, master baker, ex-hunter.
“Uh,” Rebecca said, stepping from the kitchen and finding you crouched on the floor. “What’re you doing?”
“I need you to run lobby,” you said, making an awkward-crabwalk-dash to the kitchen. “But don’t give them menus!”
“I know what they want.”
“They’re my brothers.”
Rushing into the kitchen, you began to throw together the food you knew your brothers would want—healthy-sized sandwiches (larger than the usual); a side of house-made chips for Dean, a small salad for Sam. The bell above the door rang just as you were putting the finishing touches on each plate.
“Cas, what are you doing in my kitchen?” you asked, not turning around.
“I wanted to let you know that your brothers–”
“I know. I saw the Impala pull up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Surprise them.” You glanced over your shoulder. “Go meet them. But don’t tell them I’m here!”
The angel stepped from the kitchen. You heard the deep voices of your brothers, heard the muffled conversation of surprise upon the angel’s arrival. For his part, thankfully, Cas said nothing about you.
You took a few deep breaths before sliding the food onto a tray and stepping from the kitchen. You made your way to the table, setting the food down before them.
“Sorry, we didn’t order–” Sam looked up, his face dropping in surprise. “Y/N?”
Dean turned, his face mirroring Sam’s. “Holy shit. What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you your lunch.”
You watched as your brothers examined their food, large smiles covering their faces.
“How’d you know?” Sam asked.
“Sister’s intuition,” you said with a shrug.
“Mother Mary’s,” Dean said, remembering the name he’d seen on the banner outside. “We should have known.”
“And it was strange that we didn’t get menus. Your friend over there refused to give us any.”
“Did you know about this?” Dean asked, turning to Cas. He gave a small shrug.
“Do you… I mean, would you like to sit down?” Sam asked, pulling out the chair next to him.
You carefully sat next to him, making eye contact with Cas. He gave you a gentle smile.
“Holy shit,” Dean said, this time muffled by mounds of turkey and ham and cheese. “This is delicious.”
“Save room for dessert,” you said with a chuckle. “We make pies every morning, fresh.”
Dean’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.