Continuing our look at the holidays, Winchester style: Sam attempts to explain Kwanzaa to Dean. And there's pie.
CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 748 words
DISTRACTION (WITH PIE)
By Carol Davis
"I'm just sayin'," Dean insisted around a mouthful of Blueberry Jubilee Crumble. "If you're gonna go off at me for just making an observation, I think you oughta go sit in the car."
"I should go sit in the car."
"That's what I said. You're the one makin' the stink. If Dad was here, he'd make you go sit in the car."
"If Dad was here, he'd make both of us go sit in the car."
That quieted Dean down for a minute - long enough for him to finish chewing and swallowing his enormous mouthful of pie, but not nearly long enough for him to forget the topic under discussion. It was his cross to bear, Sam thought, careful to keep his expression from shifting: sharing meals with a brother who had no more interest in world events than a second grader, but who could spend entire days riffing on the design of diner menus.
Grateful for the respite, Sam sipped his coffee and glanced out the window into the parking lot.
"You're sure it's real," Dean said.
"Dude. For God's sake."
"You're sure."
"I'm sure, Dean."
"This whole Kwanzaa thing. Somebody didn't just make it up."
The sigh broke through before Sam could stop it.
"I knew it!" Dean crowed.
"Somebody made it up back in the Sixties," Sam told him. "Almost half a century ago. That doesn't make it not genuine. It's a real holiday."
"Why? Because Hallmark decided to make some money off of it?"
"Because it celebrates African-American culture and history. It's a way to offer thanks and respect to your ancestors. Millions of people celebrate it around the world. I had friends at Stanford who celebrated it. There's music. Lots of food. It's nice."
Dean shoveled in another mouthful of pie. "So you can just make stuff up, and people go along with it."
"It means 'first fruits of the harvest'."
"What does?"
"Kwanzaa," Sam groaned. "It's Swahili. Matunda ya kwanza."
"That's that thing from The Lion King."
"It's…what? No it isn't."
"Is so. Matoota - what you said."
"Do you mean hakuna matata?"
"Yeah. That's it. The Lion King."
"Hakuna matata means 'there are no worries'. It's an entirely different phrase."
"Sounds the same."
Sam set his coffee cup - thick, heavy earthenware, still half full of hot coffee - down on the table and took his hand away from it. Having it in his hand made smacking Dean on the side of the head with it far too tempting.
"What?" Dean said.
"Do me a favor."
"Not gonna go sit in the car, Sam."
"Tell me you do this stuff just to yank my chain. Because I know you, man. You're not that ignorant."
"I'm not?"
"I hope not."
Dean grinned across the table at his brother. With blueberry pie filling smeared across his lips and chin - there even seemed to be a little of it up his nose - he didn't look very different from the kid Dad had frequently banished to the car for creating a ruckus while Dad was trying to eat. "They got pie?" he asked; around the mouthful, it came out Aygoppie? "You said there's food."
"They have traditional food."
"There's no friggin' pie? Then they can just matunda ma…whatever, without me."
"I'm sure the entire worldwide African-American community is thrilled right up to their eyeballs to hear that."
With a shrug, Dean announced, "That's what you get, for makin' up your own holidays."
"I suppose you'd be out lobbying for an annual celebration of the miracle of Blueberry Crumb pie."
"With candles," Dean said. "And a lot of singing."
Another glance out the window reminded Sam that they'd come in here to get out of the snow. Away from bad roads, the growing presence of the Leviathans, and the sense that no matter how far they drove, or in what direction, they weren't aiming toward anything. That maybe this had all been going on for so long, there was nothing to aim for.
When he finally pulled his attention back into the diner, Dean was watching him. After a moment of pondering his brother in silence, with a small, almost wistful smile, Dean nudged Sam's coffee cup with his fork.
"Finish that," he said. "You don't, you're gonna wish you had."
"Hmm," Sam said, and reached for the cup.
"Sammy?" Dean asked after a minute. "You figure we got a chance of it someday?"
"What?"
"Hakuna matata."
"I hope so, man," Sam replied. "I sure as hell hope so."
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