WHO: Sam Winchester and John Winchester. WHAT: Grabbing a bite. WHEN: Evening; after this. WHERE: A diner. RATING: PG-13. STATUS: Complete!
Alastair was gone. Destroyed. Dead. There were still tensions running through the Winchester household, for reasons that were both related and unrelated to the chain of events that led up to the demon's destruction, but for now, everything was calm. Tense, but calmer than it had been in a long, long while. Threats still lurked within the city, there always were, and there was still the major chance of another enemy from their own home world jumping in to surprise them sometime ahead. Still, the satisfaction in knowing that, for now, they were safe? Safer than usual? It was the best feeling in the world.
Perhaps he wasn't the only one home who felt that way. That things were beginning to look up, despite the usual shoddy crap they had to deal with on a daily basis. No, they all weren't sunshine and rainbows and butterflies - far from it, in fact, but it was still better knowing that they would be able to sleep with one less enemy baring their teeth at the front door. He supposed that maybe that was why John had asked him if he wanted to go out to eat that night. Maybe, despite all of the anger that he had obviously felt upon learning that Dean, Claire, Ruby, and himself had left to fight Alastair, he was beginning to feel the weight lessen a little. Maybe. At this point, it was beginning to feel unlikely. Sam wasn't going to pretend to know anything about how anyone else felt anymore. It was useless. He couldn't even begin to scratch the surface. Still. He would keep watching when he could. Look for clues. Hints. Just a little bit of something that would let him see past those walls. The direct approach wasn't going to work. Not here. So instead, he would wait. Watch. Listen. And then maybe he'd see.
Like tonight. He would watch his father. Yes, he fully intended on asking him things, talking to him about Alastair and Dean and everything, but he still was going to watch and listen. It'd help, anyway, with pushing the discomfort aside. He hoped. Hanging out with his Dad was kind of a rare thing, even in the sense of them just going out to grab some dinner together. He mostly blamed that on his inability to go but so long without getting into it with the man, but he knew deep down that those worries, the same ones that he had for Dean, were also lurking deep under the surface, making everything complicated. But, hey, that was the Winchester way, wasn't it? Complicated. Difficult. Pain in the ass. It was how they rolled, unfortunately.
Shifting uncomfortably against the plastic material of the booth he was sitting in, Sam looked down at his menu. He was fumbling over the choices, even though, when it came down to it, he knew exactly what he was gonna order. A burger. That was what they had peeled out for, after all. But it was helping him keep busy with his hands, while his eyes flicked back and forth between the printed wording on the menu and the face of the man sitting opposite him. Releasing a breath, he slowly lowered the laminated menu and rubbed a hand across the side of his face. Felt a little bristly. He figured he needed a shave.
"Place isn't so shabby," he commented, looking to his father. "Nice menu."