Tuesday, early evening was usually a slow night in the Pick N' Save and tonight wasn't any different. Afternoon had bled into early evening through a fruity blend of color, oranges, plums and peaches, with only me and Reggie ghosting the place.

Then I heard them before I saw them.

Well, I heard one of them, anyway.

"No, Sam. Every time you're out of my sight, you get into trouble. So, so help me, you will stay right next to this cart. As a matter of fact, you will keep your hand on this cart the entire time we are in the store."

You might expect 'Sam' to be anything from a petulant toddler with an exasperated father, to a surly teenager with an exasperated brother. But, as they rounded the turn through the automatic doors into the store, you'd see that they're two full grown men. In their late twenties or early thirties, full grown men.

Dean and Sam. They come into the store every two or three weeks or so. Usually late in an afternoon when we're at our slowest. They're brothers, I've learned that from listening to their conversations over the months they've been coming in. I've learned that Sam likes fruit and veggies and tart cherry juice while Dean likes red meat, pie, and flirtatious young women.

It seemed like maybe Sam had been enjoying some female company of his own, the way Dean was admonishing him as they came into the store.

"I mean it – you're lucky 'Daddy Dearest' was more interested in the sound of his own voice than ripping your throat out. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Put your hand on the cart."

"Dude, I am not putting my hand on the cart."

One Sam, one Dean, one suddenly less boring evening.

Dean huffed and grabbed a twenty four pack of cola off the shelf and set it into the cart. Sam rolled his eyes and put a twenty four pack of water into the cart.

Then Dean asked, "You need some more of that pomegranate juice?" and Sam huffed loud enough for me to hear it even at the cash register at the head of the aisle.

"Cherry juice." He corrected Dean. He had to reach pretty far into the shelf to grab a half gallon jug of the juice to put into the cart.

"Why don't you grab the rest of them?" Dean said. The joking was gone. "They've only got a couple left. Might as well take 'em all."

"Oh, yeah. Okay."

The last two jugs went into the cart, and the cart went down the aisle and turned the corner where I couldn't see them.

I could still hear them.

"We need laundry detergent?" Dean asked, calling it like Sam was down the aisle from him.

"No, but we need more of the pre-treat for blood stuff. What about Brillo pads?"

"Yeah. Fabric softener?"

Instead of answering, Sam coughed. It sounded at first like he was clearing his throat, but it quickly changed to a wet, croupy sound.

"Sam? Sammy? Okay, here. Here. Just – breathe, Sam. Can you breathe?"

It sounded serious, and I took a look down the aisle see if they needed help.

There, next to mops and floor polish, Sam was coughing his lungs up into a blue and white bandana. Dean was next to him, hand on Sam's shoulder, looking at him like the coughing hurt him as much as it hurt Sam.

"All right. Here." When there was a pause in the coughing, Dean took a bottle of cherry juice out of their cart and twisted the lid off of it. "Drink."

"We haven't paid for that yet." Sam said. He managed to sound exasperated around his coughing.

"We're going to, aren't we? Chill. Take a drink."

Sam grumbled and rolled his eyes, but he took the bottle from Dean and lifted it for a couple of swallows. Then he paused, coughed a few more times into the bandana, and had a few more swallows of cherry juice. All the while Dean watched his every move like his life depended on it.

"Y'okay now?"

Sam took a deep breath and seemed to be considering it. He nodded and capped the cherry juice and set it back in the cart.

"I'm good."

"All right, let's get this shopping finished and go home and watch a movie. What d'you say?"

Sam nodded again and when they turned, he reached out and put his hand on the shopping cart as Dean pushed it down the aisle.

The End