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can't stop the ficcing

Title: the cookie gambit
Ficverse: SPN
Series:
SPN comment!fic
Rating: PG
Length: 1300 ish
Characters: Jess, Brady, Sam
Prompted and posted: from 1.10, Asylum
Dean: See, that attitude right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie.
Notes: Where are these stories coming from? No, really, where? wtfidek. Does anyone else find doing meta makes them want to write fic? Maybe that's it.
Warnings/Spoiler: pre-series
Feedback: let's hear it. The good, the bad, the ugly....



“Okay – you got them?” Jess settled her bookbag and grabbed one of the tupperwear boxes.

“Yeah, yeah.... Mmph.” He grinned at her around a mouthful of cookie.

“Brady!”

“Quality control,” he said after swallowing. “You can’t give poisoned cookies to unsuspecting students. They’ll think they’re getting something delicious and wholesome, and eat the lot, and then you’ll have destroyed them from the inside out, and they’ll be all ‘eeerch, I’m dying.’ Prof O’Neil would definitely call that ethically questionable.”

She laughed, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got another fifty pages to read by tonight. How do I always end up doing this stuff instead of my homework?”

“Because you’re a ministering angel in disguise and God will reward you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

“No, it’s true.” Brady assumed a dramatic pose, hampered by the tupperwear in either hand. “I’m having a vision ... this very afternoon you will meet the man of your dreams and his love for you will transform your very lives.”

Jess held the door open with her foot and searched for her keys with her spare hand. “Yeah, uh huh. Tell me more. I think my moon is in the ascendancy this month.”

“Ah, sounds dirty –”

Jess shook her head, but her smile was indulgent. Truth be told, she was just glad Brady had agreed to do this with her today. Usually it was a tradition she and Karen did together, but he’d been acting so strange lately, and she was worried about him. He almost seemed like his old endearing self as he juggled the boxes to open the outer door for her, but she couldn’t quite shake the sense of a trailing darkness.

But once outside in the sweet late Fall air, all of that was forgotten. It was hard to believe it was almost the end of the semester in this California weather, but there was a crispness clinging to the golden afternoon. Clumps of students were scattered on the lawns, in various combinations of studying and snoozing. She popped the lid off and approached the first group.

“Free cookies? Fresh from the oven,” she said, holding them out, while Brady offered his to the next group further on.

“Good for the brain, good for the soul,” he proclaimed grandly. “Meets all your studying needs and they’re not even chemically addictive. Might not help you pass exams, but guaranteed to make you feel better about failing.”

She grinned and left him to it, but after a few minutes, she noticed he’d stopped moving and was talking to someone, only halfway through his first container. He caught her eye and gestured her over.

The guy he was talking to was sitting with his back to her, and the first impression she had of him was Hey. Shoulders. Then he craned around and the light caught his eyes under a shaggy sweep of hair and the world slipped its alignment, narrowing to this one patch of grass, this one sunlit look.

And then he smiled – a quirk of the lips that was both shy and sure, and she forgot everything. Just, everything. She could barely hear Brady introducing him.

“Uh – oh – Sam?” she managed, trying to rearrange the load in her hands so she could shake his outstretched one, but suddenly her hair and her bag and everything was caught and pulling and this was going to be a horrible, horrible embarrassment.

“Oh – yes – here, let me get that.” He uncoiled to his feet and relieved her of the cookies, all before she even registered what was going on. Then her freed hand was engulfed by his. “Winchester. Sam Winchester.”

“Jess. Jessica.” She smiled, somehow remembering that was the thing to do, and then he was still holding her hand and looking down – so far down – at her and not saying anything and still holding her hand. “So, you’re ... friends with Brady?”

As if he only just realized he was still holding her hand, he let go and glanced at Brady. “Yeah. I was wondering why he was late, but –” he gestured with the cookies “– this does explain it. I think I’d be late too.”

“Late?”

“He asked me to meet him here –”

“Oh, snap, you know what? I forgot, I told Todd I’d hang out with him, too....” Brady pulled out his phone. “Man. Jess, I’m so sorry. I know I said I’d help – hey, Sam, are you busy? Can you help Jess distribute largesse to the starving masses? She’s got reading to finish after this. She’s on a strict timetable. You can’t let her down. She’s a regular Mother Teresa.”

“Sure,” Sam said with a twinkle in his eye for her. “Anything to help Mother Teresa.” He took Brady’s cookies from him, and Jess barely even noticed Brady leaving. “So, um – what are you actually doing?”

“Oh.” Jess laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’s kinda weird. Last year my friend Karen and I needed a break from midterm studying, so we decided to bake cookies for people. You know, just whoever, and then give them away. And then we ended up doing it again around finals – so now I do it whenever I feel the need to de-stress.”

“Just to give cookies to people?”

“Yeah, you know. Just because.”

“That’s....” He laughed. “Wow. That’s like the best thing I’ve heard for ages. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

No late-Fall chill in the world could touch the warmth fluttering under her ribs right now. “No problem. Next time you can help us bake them too. Really get in on the ground floor of the do-gooder business.”

Sam caught her eye, and that shy smile was back, earnest and eager. “I’d like that.” He inspected their fast-dwindling supplies. “All chocolate-chip?”

She lifted her nose haughtily. “There’s no other kind worth making. It’s classic.”

“Hey, of course. Far be it from me to argue over the relative merits of cookie flavors. Especially with a professional do-gooder.”

She sighed. “Sadly, I don’t get paid.”

He frowned severely. “I thought you said this was a business I’m getting into, here.”

“Strictly non-profit.”

“Well, in that case, I’m keeping these last three for us.” He turned back toward where he’d been sitting with an expectant look at her.

“Us?”

“Yeah. You had reading to do, right?” She nodded. “Well, come read. There’s at least two good hours of sunlight left before it gets too cold out here. And enjoy the delicious fruits of your labor. And keep me from self-destructing over my own terrible fate.”

“What terrible fate is that?” she asked as they settled down on the grass together.

He rummaged in his bag and drew out a book with a flourish. “It’s statistics. Both cruel and unusual.”

“Ooh. That’s nasty. Glad I never have to do it.”

“So ... what’s stressing you out?”

She looked up and met his eyes, startled, but warmed by the ready sympathy in them. “Oh ... well, nothing special. Just finals coming up, assignments.... I didn’t get to go home over Thanksgiving, so I miss my family, you know?”

An expression she couldn’t identify flashed across his face, but then that irresistible little smile was back, and she felt like she could tell him anything. Like he wanted her to tell him everything.

“But you’ll get to go home over winter break?”

It was a full two hours later, and indeed quite cool, before either of them remembered the reading they needed to get done. And it was a lot longer than that before they cared.

Comments

( 4 speakses — have a speak )
borgmama1of5
Oct. 12th, 2010 06:01 am (UTC)
This is so sweet and yet the tragedy hovering over them made it unbearable sad.
themonkeytwin
Oct. 13th, 2010 12:03 am (UTC)
Thanks! I really wanted to enjoy this moment, and in spite of everything I did, but as you say the tragedy always hovers.

*wibble*
vail_kagami
Oct. 21st, 2010 07:13 am (UTC)
Aw, the good old Brady/Sam/Jess tragedy. So sweet, and yet so heartbreaking. I love it!
themonkeytwin
Oct. 21st, 2010 08:23 pm (UTC)
Thanks! I really wanted to make it just the sweet, tingly moment when they met, but alas Show made it impossible to exclude Brady....
( 4 speakses — have a speak )

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