This is the single most awkward dinner Sam’s ever had, and he grew up with Bobby so that’s sort of saying something. The discomfort isn’t even because they’re all crammed into Ash’s stupid attic apartment, which is freezing despite the bodies clustered together around the room. Hell, Sam doesn’t even think it’s because of the rapidly cooling pizza that no one but his idiot brother is eating or the random computer parts and video game controllers strewn about like landmines. No, Sam’s damned positive that all the strangling tension in the loft is entirely due to the twins sitting uncomfortably on the upturned milk crates at the center of this weird gathering of everyone in the Winchester inner circle.
DEAN NO. BAD DEAN. BAD. GO SIT IN THE NAUGHTY CORNER.
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Tonight I’m having dinner at my aunt’s place, with some other family. My 19 year old cousin comes in, fresh from her second day of class (she’s taking summer courses at a nearby community college for her RN).
She claps her hands, obviously delighted. “Good news, Mom! I had a chem test today. 97%!”
“Wow!” replies my aunt, without turning around. “I knew you were switched at birth.”
I side-eye my aunt’s turned back. “Congrats, kid. That’s pretty great. Was it hard?”
“Not really. It was all just density problems and stuff, though I tripped up a little on significant figures—”
Then my aunt interrupts what is obviously a painfully boring discussion with, “So — how’d you do today?”
I don’t get it, but whatever it is makes my cousin beam.
“Awesome!” she says with a smile. She gets up and starts walking into the kitchen with her mother. “I ate only some salad and some apples.”
Aunt stops and frowns. “How many apples?”
Cousin’s face falls. “Two? Three?”
As they continue into the kitchen and out of earshot, the last thing I hear is: “Well. Which was it, two or three? That seems like an important detail.”