A recently washed black and orange impala pulled up to the the cozy, small town diner. Just washed because someone had insisted on going to the car wash before they could get food, because "His baby couldn't be seen like that!"
The engine idled for a moment before two tall, rather imposing men stepped out of the sleek vehicle, making their way to the front entrance of the building. The shorter of the two - though only by a couple of inches - reached the door first, pulling it open and strutting inside, not even bothering to make sure his companion caught the door before he let go of it. Said companion - whom had longer, shaggier hair, though of a similar color - didn't seem at all phased at this, as if it were a regular occurrence. Which, with these two, it probably was.
They headed straight towards the back corner of the diner, close to the kitchen door where they could most easily view the rest of the restaurant and it's inhabitants. The stockier and older one - Dean - sat with his back to the wall, while Sam - the younger - sat sideways in the opposite booth, one of his long legs coming up to stretch out along the seat of the bench.
"God, I am starving!" Dean exclaimed, reaching for one of the menus that were conveniently placed at the end of the table closest to the wall. He glanced over the lunch and dinner sections quickly, before loosing interest and going to the back to search for the pie section.
Sam rolled his eyes, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the diner. "Well, if you hadn't insisted on getting your prescious baby washed first we would have been eating much sooner," He said irritably, also quite hungry. Dean ignored his comment, seeming to get more and more frantic in his perusal of the menu. Sam raised an eyebrow, slightly bewildered as to what was wrong with his brother now, and had just opened his mouth to ask him such when a pretty young waitress stepped up to their table. At least he thought it was a pretty young waitress. Upon closer inspection he realized that their supposed waitress was, in fact, a pretty young waiter.
He once again raised an eyebrow, this time at the boy's clothing. Instead of the usual pink and white poodle skirt that the other servers were wearing - all female from the looks of it - he had on a pair of white bermuda shorts of all things, a form fitting white short sleeved button down, as well as a purposely baggy, baby pink, loosely knitted, button up cardigan. His jet black hair seemed to not be able to decide wether it wanted to be curly or wavy, resulting in a strange but cute mix of both, and was cut into a bob that came just past his rounded jaw line with straight, blunt bangs covering his forehead. Wide green eyes stared at them in a pleasant, though mostly disinterested sort of way, holding a note pad and pen at the ready.
"Hello, welcome to Danny's Diner. My names Jamie and I'll be your server this afternoon. Is there anything I can get you gentlemen to drink?" Sam blinked at the soft British accent as well as the boys name. God, even his name was androgynous.
Dean looked up, his gazed slightly panic stricken as he spoke heatedly, "Do you not have pie?" His voice was slightly louder than it should have been and drew the attention of several of the patrons in the restaurant but not overly much. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, quite used to them, although still slightly embarrassed. The boy - Jamie, he recalled - wasn't phased at this outburst though, seemingly used to such things as he pointed toward two large black boards situated on the back wall. Both were filled with colorful writing and artistic drawings, one with the specials for the week, the other displaying nearly every type of pie that Dean Winchester could possibly think of.
Jamie smirked slightly in amusement at Deans bug eyed, gobsmacked expression, before it flitted away just as quickly, returning to his pleasantly disinterested facade. "So, drinks?" He questioned mildly.
At this point Dean had come out of his brief stupor and had moved on to examining the boy's attire skeptically. Sam tactfully ordered cokes for the both of them before his brother could open his big mouth and offend the kid before they'd even placed their orders in. "Okay, coming right up," he smiled sweetly, turning to go into the back. As he was walking away Sam noticed he wore the same white keds as all the other waitress' in the room, somehow surprising him once again with the somewhat feminine tendencies that the young boy had. Dean, on the other hand, was noticing how nice those shorts made his ass look as he walked away, before realizing that the boy couldn't possibly be older than fourteen, sixteen at the most, and any ideas of hitting on the cute waiter flew out the window.
"Was that a guy?" Dean questioned a bit conspiratorially.
"Mm-hm," Sam replied, brow slightly furrowed. Didn't these places have some sort of policy about only hiring women as servers, or something?
Dean was apparently thinking along the same lines as him, because when Jamie came back with their drinks - holding the glasses in one hand with practiced ease as he placed a couple of napkins on the table before setting the drinks on top of those - he blurted out rather bluntly, "No offence dude, but don't these places normally have some kind of rule about only hiring women?" Well, no one had ever accused him of being subtle.
Jamie's eyes widened slightly in surprise though not appearing overly offended at the question, and taking it in stride. "Well, we don't actually have a policy; that'd be discrimination, but most males tend to avoid applying here considering the required uniform is," he glanced distastefully at his long sleeved cardigan,"pink." He finished with a slightly disgusted crinkle of his nose.
Sam furrowed his brow,"Then why are you...?" He trailed off not sure how to phrase his question with out sounding rude. Thankfully Jamie seemed to have gotten the gist of what he was trying to say because he smiled understandingly, making a vague gesture toward the window behind the counter where they could see an overly muscled, bald, black man who seemed to be cooking while simultaneously doing some sort of funky moon walk and mouthing the words to whatever music he was listening to back there. Dean raised an eyebrow, lips quirking, wondering if that really was Michelle Branch he could hear faintly in the background.
"I'm actually a cook. A couple of our girls called in sick today so we're a little bit short handed. I got roped into helping out the twins run the tables while the others are gone." The two Winchesters nodded in understanding. That made a bit more sense.
"So have you decided what you'd like to order or will you be needing a few more minutes?" Jamie asked professionally, pulling his notepad from his back pocket. Dean promptly order the greasiest, most unhealthy thing on the menu while Sam attempted to go with a slightly more nutritional meal, though probably not by much knowing these places. Jamie took the order with a smile, moving perkily through the swing door into the kitchen. Sam shook his head as he looked over at Dean who was once again obsessing over the variety of pie choices and which one he was going to try first.
Jamie moved through the swing door that lead to the kitchen, humming along to the music as it played. He moved to the window that looked out at the rest of the diner, standing on tip toes to clip the order onto the spinning wheel for Raymond before moving to the back to continue kneeding the dough that he'd been working on previously.
"So what's with the new faces Jay-Jay?" Raymond's deep voice rumbled from across the counter behind him. Jamie looked over his shoulder, smiling in fond amusement at the sight of the large man still shaking his thang as he flipped patties with ease.
The smaller boy shrugged, turning back to his dough - now separating it into more manageable mounds. "Just a couple of guys passing through, I guess." He snatched up his roller, making quick work of it into a thin but sturdy sheet. Carefully, he layed it across a pie sheet and began to press it into the crevices along the sides.
"Hn," Raymond grunted, somewhat disappointed. Him and the girls had been trying to set the little Jay Bird up for months but to no avail. They lived in such a small town with such limited options that it was difficult to set anything up that would have any sort of substantial meaning considering most of the fresh meat that came around were just men passing through for some reason or another. A smirk curled his lips as he glanced over at Jamie, seeing him working on his desserts, as usual.
"So what's their story?" He asked in amusement.
The brunette chuckled softly a mischievous smile crossing his face. "Well," He began, not pausing in his work, his hand working smoothly and dilligently. "The shorter one is actually an undercover FBI agent investigating a string of drug related murders that the other guy is supposedly a part of."
Raymond chuckled, flipping a couple of the patties off the grill and onto a bun with fixings and fries already to the side. He put it up on the counter and rung the bell calling out a quick "Order up!" before turning back to Jamie. "And how's that going for him so far?" He asked, his tone belaying his mirth.
Jamie sighed in mock despondence as he began to add the homemade cherry filling on top of the crust, cautious not to spill any. "Unfortunately, not to well. You see what he doesn't know is that the whole assignment is just a rues, and that the other guy out there whom he thinks is a part of this 'gang' is actually an assassin hired by some higher ups in the government who want him 'taken care of' since he saw something last spring that he wasn't supposed to."
By this time, the large dark skinned man's shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter as he put the finishing touches to the orders of the customers that they happened to be currently speaking of. He was used to Jamie's wild imagination but it still never failed to be a source of endless comedy. They did this often, picking random out-of-towners and giving them background stories. They had to keep themselves entertained somehow, what with being in the kitchen most of the day and all. "Here's your table's order, Jay Bird. Better get it to 'em before they get assassinated or something," his voice shook with his chest as he continued chuckle, holding the plates out to the small young man.
Jamie set the layer of dough he was shaping to use as the top layer of the pie down, rinsing his hands briefly, and grabbing the mens' orders while sweeping out the door backwards in one smooth movement. He kept the plates carefully balanced on both his palms and forearms so as to not drop them, occasionally using his finger tips for leverage if they started to wobble. The two men - he didn't know their names - watched him curiously as he glided up to their table, depositing their food in a swift, effortless sweep. "Here you are," He chirped. He rocked back on his heels, standing up straight and about to ask if there was anything else he could do for them when the stockier of them spoke.
"Ya know..." He started pensively. "For someone who isn't actually a waiter, you sure seem to know what you're doing." Jamie blinked, not expecting that sort of response or notice from a passing customer such as him.
"Oh..ah.." The brunette stuttered, unsure of how to respond. "I guess with cooking and serving food to my relatives for so many years, it just sort of comes naturally." A soft blush bloomed across his cheeks, uncomfortable and unused to talking about his family with complete strangers. He doubted it would matter to them though, most people didn't have problems with openly talking about the people that they grew up with. The man nodded, as if that made sense of everything while turning to his plate.
"One more question," He enunciated decisively, once again not giving Jamie the chance to ask them if they needed anything else. He pointed at the boy's torso, eyes scrutinizing. "What's with the pink sweater-" cardigan the other man hissed from across the table "-cardi-whatzit that you're wearing?"
The slight boy tilted his head, admittedly somewhat like a kitten, confused as to what he meant. "I had to wear something the color of the uniform," His voice was hesitant, hadn't he explained this already?
The short hair man shook his head emphatically, absently popping a french fry in his mouth. "No, I mean why do you own it?" He explained, eyeing the soft color rather apprehensively as if afraid that it was going to jump out and attack him at any given second.
That startled a laugh out of the cook-cum-waiter, realizing what he was referring to. It would be unusual if he had something of this color after so blatantly expressing his disgust for it when he had first talked with them. "No, no, no," He waved a hand as if to ward off their assumptions, causing the long sleeves to slide down till they were almost covering his fingertips. "This isn't mine," he plucked at the front of the soft material, as if to reaffirm his statement. "I had to raid my roommates closet in order to find some thing the right color. She's one of the girls who had to call in sick today, but I couldn't very well wear her uniform, and this is the least girlie thing I could find that was acceptable." He elaborated, straight white teeth flashing in a sheepish smile.
The fact that he was wearing his girl friend's clothes wasn't what caught Sam's attention though. He was more focused on the part where this kid implied that he lived, essentially, alone. "Roommate?" He voiced his thoughts, giving the boy a Look. "How old are you?" Surely this kid couldn't be old enough to live on his own?
Jamie adopted a resigned expression, his shoulders slumping as he asked them instead, how old they thought he was. The brothers exchanged a confused glance, wondering if he really was older than they'd assumed before Dean answered with his usual bluntness, "Fourteen."
The boy let out a drawn out 'Whhhhhyyyy?' looking up at the ceiling as if asking God for the answer to his question. He sighed in a much aggrieved sort of way, a bittersweet twist to his lips."I'm twenty-three," He stated just as Dean had chomped down on another fry, subsequently causing him to choke.
"You're joking," The older brother rasped out once he'd gotten his breath back, both of the Winchesters goggling at the boy - no, man - in disbelief.
"I guess I should be thankful," Jamie sighed,"Last time it was twelve." He had long come to term with the fact that he had a 'baby face' as Eloise liked to say, and that he would be perpetually mistaken for years younger than he actually was.
Quickly now, before they could interrogate him any further and his pie was spoiled, he asked if there was anything else he could do for them. Both replied that they were fine for now, but the one who looked to be a few years older informed him that he would definitely be wanting some pie later on. Jamie nodded agreeably, saying he'd be back when they needed him and returning to his kitchens.