Title: The Letter I is Lucky

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: G (weechesters)

Notes: Written in honor of the launch of the Alphabet Soup discord group!



If Dean didn’t want him to play with his food, why’d he serve Sam alphabet soup and not some boring chicken noddle? As a small ice cube melts to cool his soup down, Sam sits alone at the table, swirling his spoon in the bowl and watching as the letters rearrange themselves.


He gives a few of them a nudge with his spoon and spells out his name. SAM floats there, the letters slowly drifting apart, so he has to act quickly to scoop them up and eat them. A random J makes it onto his spoon as well, and he thinks about flicking it back into the bowl with his finger, but then Dean would know he was playing.


Or, rather, Dean would know if Dean were in any condition to notice anything right now. Dean stands on the other side of their small kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the refrigerator like it is the only thing keeping him upright. He said earlier that he didn’t feel good, which is why he made them soup for dinner. But he doesn’t seem all that interested in eating it now that it is cooked and ready.


Sam doesn’t feel especially hungry either, to be honest. Besides, it is a lot more fun spelling out words in the soup than actually eating it. He stirs, watching the letters jumble, circle, and spin. He lets the letters settle and tries to pick words out. There is DOG up at the top, which could double as GOD if he allows words to be read backward. And if he moves a T out of the way and slides a D in into place, he can spell UNDER. Though, there are also a lot of vowels hanging around nearby. And a W. If he can just find an R… Carefully, he navigates his spoon around in the bowl. And a minute later, he has done it. “Dean! Come look! Quick!” he can’t contain his laughter. “I’ve got underwear in my soup!”


Dean makes an effort to open his eyes and keep them open. He lurches forward, still relying on the fridge to keep him up, stumbling across the room for a few steps in the open, then grabbing hold of a the back of a chair at the table. He leans over and glances at Sam’s soup up-side-down. “Good one, Sammy.” He raises his sleeve to his nose to snuffle and cough into it. Then he pulls the chair out and sinks into it. He makes a nest of his arms on the tabletop and rests his head in it.


Sitting back in his chair, Sam isn’t sure what to do. Dean didn’t even tell him off for playing. He must really be feeling crummy. “Dean…” He speaks softly, not really wanting to bother his big brother. “Maybe you should eat your soup before it gets cold?”


Dean shakes his head back and forth without lifting it. Then his whole body tenses, tightens, rolls forward. “Ih-shuhh!


“Bless you.”


Dean’s breath hitches again almost immediately. “hihh… IHHShuhh!


“Bless you again.” Dean gives a wet snuffle as his only reply. Sam slides out of his chair. He gets the tissue box from the bathroom and puts it on the table. When Dean doesn’t go for it, Sam puts it in Dean’s lap instead.


Dean angles his head a little, looking down. With one of his arms and the edge of the table blocking his face from view, he plucks a few tissues from the box and blows his nose one-handed. Sam doesn’t like the sound of it at all and winces until he’s done blowing.


Sam walks around the table to the bowl of soup that Dean put there for himself. The bowl is still warm to the touch, so Sam drags it across the table to him. He puts the spoon in and starts moving letters around. There’s one E that’s extremely evasive. It keeps ducking under other letters and messing up the other parts of the word when Sam tries to get it into place. Finally, Sam gives up and goes after a different E, which proves to be more cooperative. “Dean? Hey, Dean? I want you to look at this for a second. Please? It’s important.” Sam taps his brother’s arm until Dean looks.


Lifting his head, Dean’s eyes adjust to the harsh light of the kitchen for a few seconds before focusing on the bowl of soup. Right there in the center are the words EAT ME. He bursts out laughing, which makes him snuffle and cough, but he’s still smiling after that. And he takes charge of his spoon.


He grimaces a little with the first bite. But the second and third go down easier. And then he’s found a steady rhythm of getting a spoonful to his mouth and swallowing. Sam settles back in his chair. His soup is much cooler now, but he eats it as well so Dean won’t have reason to be angry at him. He still picks out words as he eats, though. He can’t help it. There’s ROCK. There’s BEE. There’s IT. And the letter I is lucky, because it’s always a word by itself, no matter what it’s next to.