"I've missed you too, Sam." Not Sammy, that didn't fit the old eyes looking out at him from the younger face. Though sometimes, he just couldn't help himself; to him, Sam would always be Sammy, the little brother that was attached to Dean all the time, who had been afraid of the monsters under his bed--and John had only given him a gun that he'd never had to use because he'd checked to make sure there wasn't anything there. But he'd only checked when Sam was at school, so he wouldn't know.
He was too old for this melancholy any longer; he had been about to die, and he had not had the chance to unburden himself. Not like he had to Dean, not even like he had in the hotel room after Elkins' death. IF things could be trusted, this was a safe place. John had a feeling he'd never entirely let his guard down, but this might be the time to live for the family and not the fear.
The question about who all he'd invited for dinner had him laughing, at first a little chuckle, then a smile and a deeper, more real laugh. "No, just you and me. There might be some fortune cookies for dessert, too." A little shrug. "I didn't know what I wanted, and I couldn't remember the last time we'd ordered anything together. So I thought a little of everything."
And still, it stung. It stung, deeply, that he didn't know what Sam's favorite Chinese food was. Didn't know what his favorite drink was, didn't know what his favorite color was. And what he did know, how well Sam could shoot, fight, throw a punch, take down a vampire, kill a Wendigo... Jesus, he was a lousy father. And that didn't even take Adam into consideration. "Help yourself."
He'd washed the plates earlier, and glasses too. No wine--John wasn't really a wine drinker. A six-pack of Corona, a twelve-pack of Fiji Water, a two-liter bottle of soda.