"Sam, go on, make a wish."
Ten year old Sam opened his eyes and flashed his brother a look of annoyance. "I'm working on it, Dean. Jeez." He closed his eyes.
Dean rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table top. Sitting across from him was Sam and a birthday cupcake, stolen from the local bakery, since Dean had no money. Sure, he loved his kid brother, but how long does it take to make a stupid wish?
"Aren't you done yet?"
Sam said, "Shut up, Dean."
"Well, by the time you make your wish, it'll be your next birthday."
Sam looked irritated as he opened his eyes once more. "Would it kill you to let me decide?"
"Yes," said Dean irritably. "You done yet? Come on, blow out the stupid candle. The wax is dripping into the icing."
Sam considered pretending to think some more about this wish, but he finally closed his eyes once more, taking a deep breath, and blowing out the candle.
There were some spots of wax on his birthday treat already, however. Sam had been surprised at the cupcake, an unexpected gesture from Dean, whom he hadn't expected to remember that today he turned ten. Dean generally didn't remember things like that. Although, Sam remembered, as he opened his eyes to survey his prize, Dean had always recognized his birthday in some way – whether it was a cupcake or not teasing him for a day, a welcome change. Never did he do some thing for their Dad's birthday or his own.
"So what d'ya wish for?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head as he pulled the candle out of his cupcake. He answered, "I can't tell you. Then the wish won't come true."
Dean scoffed. "Sam. Come on. Just tell me." He didn't know why he cared so much, but he did.
Sam licked the icing off the bottom of the candle. He said, "No, I can't tell you."
As Sam ate his cupcake, he and Dean went back and forth about why Sam should or shouldn't tell Dean what he wished for. Dean felt himself getting annoyed.
"Come on," he said. "Why's it matter? Just tell me."
Sam shook his head. "No!"
"Sam," Dean said in a patronizing tone.
"Dean," Sam replied in the same tone.
There was a pause, and then Dean let out a deep breath and muttered, "Bitch."
"Jerk," Sam shot back reflexively, smiling in spite of himself.
Dean eventually gave up asking and wandered into the other room to clean some of their guns for their father, who when he got back, would be appreciative.
Sam finished eating his cupcake and wondered, What would he had said if I'd told him what I'd wished for?
Sam thought about his wish for a moment. It seemed reasonable. I wish we could live like a normal family.