Fic: This is How It Works
Title: This is How It Works
Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to Kripke. No money involved.
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the series so far. Nothing huge.
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen, kidfic, (with slight het)
Summary: Spending the weekend anywhere but home is a rare occurrence, mostly because getting three very different children prepared for it is like an Olympic sport. Dean takes his kids on a weekend trip to Bobby's and comes to the conclusion that chaos comes in many forms. The one without monsters has so far been his favorite.
under the cut
So it turns out that while Dean had always wanted to play baseball as a kid, his oldest is more of a football nut. The American kind, not the British kind, though that woulda made Miranda happy.
So the next stop on Dean's pickup list is the field behind the local middle school, where aforementioned oldest is currently tackling the crap out of another kid at practice.
Dean claps, not an easy feat with a dozing five-year-old in his arms, but he manages. "Good hustle, Dude!" he calls.
The other parents are all mothers, and they turn to look at him, some a little confused, some a little exasperated, and some a little flirty or amused. He gives them his best shit eating grin, until the boys all come running over to their respective parents.
James Samuel Winchester pulls his helmet off and grins up at Dean, all eleven-year-old enthusiasm and energy. His hair, short and dirty blond, is matted to his forehead and his green eyes aren't as big as his sister's, but they hold much more mischief. "Hey, Dad!"
"Lookin' good out there," Dean tells him, ruffling his sweaty hair. "Grab your stuff, it's go time."
Jamie nods and trots over to where everyone has their stuff.
"Dean!"
He turns and grins at the pee wee football coach, who happens to be a customer of his. "Hey, Alan."
"Jamie's got a lot of promise," Alan tells him.
"Ah yes, eleven and already set for the NFL," Dean jokes. It's always a joke.
Alan chuckles. "How's the garage?"
"Same old," Dean replies. "Closing up shop for the weekend, actually. Wife's outta town, so I'm takin' the kids on a little road trip."
Alan grins. "Have fun then."
Jamie clomps over, still sweaty and still energetic. "Time to go?"
"You bet." Dean nods to Alan and herds Jamie over to the Impala, placing his gear and backpack into the trunk. 'Imagine that, Baby,' Dean thinks affectionately toward his car as he sets Emily in the backseat, still dozing. 'You've become a mommy mobile.'
"Where to now, Dad?" Jamie asks as he climbs into the front seat. The kid doesn't half smell from practice, but it'll be easily fixed once they get home.
"We gotta pick up your brother," Dean replies as he slides easily into the driver's seat. "Then we gotta get everybody cleaned up and fed, because we...are goin' to uncle Bobby's."
"Alright!" Jamie cries, bouncing with excitement.
Dean marvels sometimes about Jamie. He remembers being a sullen, snarky eleven-year-old, full of contempt for life and Sam and everything and everyone else, even Dad. But Jamie...Jamie's just easy. Jamie lets everything that would have bothered Dean slide off of him like melting butter on a hot skillet. And Dean is damn grateful for that.
Dean starts up the car, and pulls out of his parking space, drawing the attention of the other parents. He revs the engine and speeds away. It wakes Emily, and Dean sees her rub her eyes and stretch. When she smiles at him, he reaches over, flipping on the stereo, turning up Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla" til it makes the Impala hum, and a couple of mothers they pass jump about four feet in the air.
*****
Matthew John Winchester is a worrier. He's nine, and he's waiting outside the library after his reading group, listening for the thrum of the Impala, hoping to see her black shiny hood coming around the corner. He stands on his tiptoes sometimes, his warn in off white Chuck Taylors (the ones his Grandda got him) bend from the weight.
The wind picks up just a little, enough to make him shiver and his red, shaggy hair blow into his eyes.
For about five more minutes, no dice, and he bites his lip. His mom usual picks him up from reading group, but she's out of town on business. What if his dad forgot? What if he got held up in traffic? Or got into an accident?
What if there were monsters?!
He feels his stomach churn, and feels a little bile start to rise up, but it dies down when the Impala zooms into the parking lot and up to the curb.
"Sorry we're late, Matty," his father says sincerely. "We stopped off for mini pie."
Matt gives a grin, and visibly relaxes as Jamie swings the door to the front seat open, and Matt climbs in, wiggling against his older brother, who is covered in dried sweat and smells like grass, but that's okay. Jamie gets them situated and pulls the seatbelt across both of their laps and hooks it.
Dean reaches into a plastic bag and pulls out a wrapped miniature lemon pie, handing it over. Jamie has apple, and Emily has cherry, and Matt always gets lemon, just like his dad. He likes the way the wrapper crinkles and rips and he likes the flaky crust and the way the goo inside is sweet and tart and an unnatural shade of yellow.
He smiles up at Dean, who reaches over and strokes more than ruffles his hair. "How were the books today?"
Matt nods as he swallows. "Good. Mom's are better."
Dean grins and drives out of the parking lot. "Well, you can pick one out for the ride to Uncle Bobby's."
Matt's eyes go wide. "Really?! When!"
"Tonight. We hit the road."
"Awesome," Matt says as he takes another bite of his pie.
******
Spending the weekend anywhere but home is a rare occurrence, mostly because getting three very different children prepared for it is like an Olympic sport.
"Where's my spare guitar strings?" Jamie asks, as he digs through the couch cushions.
Dean is packing juice boxes into a cooler. "Wherever you left it, Dude."
Jamie huffs. "I thought they were in my room, but they're not."
"Well, keep lookin'. Matty!" Dean calls. "You got your books picked out?!"
"Almost!"
"What do you mean almost?"
"I have five! I want two more!"
"Don't you think five's plenty?" Dean walks out to the living room where Matt is sitting in front of the big bookshelf, shaggy red hair getting into his big, brown eyes. "Uncle Bobby's got books, too, you know. And there's a used place near his house we can hit if you get desperate."
Matt pouts and adjusts his glasses. "I guess."
Dean sighs. "Try to pick one more. Six is a nice even number." He turns and looks around. "Where's your sister?"
"I thought she was in the kitchen," Matt said.
"No," Dean said slowly. "Emmy?!"
"What?!" she calls from upstairs.
"What're you doin?!"
"Packing!"
This is worrying.
"Emmy, I already packed your bag!"
"I packed more!"
Oh, hell.
Dean takes the stairs two at a time and reaches Emily's bedroom doorway. The entire room is a complete and utter warzone. Like it's been hit by a hurricane. "Oh, Emmy..."
She pouts.
"We'll clean this all up when we get home," Dean says, lifting her up. He hopes they can get it all cleaned up before Miranda gets back. "All you have to do is pick which friends you wanna take with."
This is not hard. Not at all. She points to the big scruffy-looking teddy bear sitting on the bed. His name is Humphrey, and Dean walks over to him, trying to avoid killing himself on piles of toys and clothes on the floor. Humphrey had shown up as a gift from Rufus Turner of all people. Word of
Dean's kids had spread like wildfire in the hunting community, or what was left of it after the whole apocalyptic crap.
It turns out that Rufus is fond of small kids, more than adults, though that's not a shock. Adults, in Rufus' view are usually out to screw you over. Kids are just kids.
The next "friend" she points to is a stuffed ninja turtle that's sitting on a book shelf next to a copy of The Stinky Cheeseman and Dean maneuvers to snatch it up. Bobby had gotten it before they figured out Emily was going to be a girl. He'd gotten Jamie Michaelangelo, and Matt had gotten Donatello. Emily's is Raphael.
"Anybody else?" Dean asks.
She shakes her head, wavy, wispy hair flying across her face and then grabs Raphael, hugging the unnaturally green toy closely.
Dean sighs and takes one more look at the mess before heading down the stairs. "Boys! You ready?!"
"Give it back, Jamie!"
"Nope!"
Dean sighs heavily. "Boys..."
"Jamie won't give me back my favorite bookmark," Matt says.
Dean walks into the kitchen, where Jamie is standing on the kitchen counter with the red and blue Spider-Man bookmark held over his head. "James."
Jamie smiles. "Hey, Dad."
"Did Matt do anything to you that forced you to steal his favorite bookmark?"
"...No..."
"Then what the frak, Dude?"
Jamie frowns and slowly gets down from the counter. He hands the bookmark back to Matt, who takes it quickly, a frown on his face as well.
Dean glances between the two boys. "Matt, you get a free hit."
"That sucks!" Jamie cries.
"Thems the rules, Jamie," Dean tells him. "You do something crappy to your brother without a reason, he gets a free hit."
Matt smiles brightly as he makes a fist and slugs his older brother in the arm. It doesn't do very much, Jamie being older, and much bigger than his brother, but it gives Matt the vindication he needs to get over the indignation of having his bookmark stolen, and it makes Jamie feel a little
like a tool which will help him remember not to pull crap like this again.
Dean adjusts Emily in his arms and then lifts the cheerful yellow bag that's serving as Emily's duffel. "Grab your packs, guys, it's time to hit the road."
*****
It's an eight hour drive from Kansas to South Dakota. If Dean could get away with it, he'd let Jamie and Matt share the front seat like they do on short rides, but it's much safer for them to sit separately on longer trips. Also? They'd kill each other pretty bad if they had to share that seat for eight hours.
To solve the shotgun argument, Dean declares that Emily gets it. She's dozing lightly, Humphrey at her feet and Raphael in her arms. Matt is, of course, reading his adorably dweeby heart out, and Jamie has a stack of old Batmans to plow through. One of the old ladies in their neighborhood had
them lying around, and while Jamie isn't a fan of novels like Matt, he will spend hours reading comics instead of doing his homework.
Dean has the windows cracked, and the stereo playing Zeppelin quietly, happy to be on the road; a nice quiet drive that isn't taking them to their doom, but to a big old house owned by an ornery old bastard who can still find it in his curmudgeonly heart to pass out candy and old toys to the Winchester kids even a generation later.
He gazes out the windshield, and spots a sign for a rest stop in a couple miles. It's been two hours on the road. "Okay. Who needs to pee?"
*****
He trusts Jamie enough to keep an eye on Matt and watches them disappear into the men's room at the rest stop, before squaring his shoulders and pushing the door to the ladies' room open. The fingers of his other hand are being gripped firmly by Emily.
This used to be very weird, waltzing into the women's bathroom, but he can't leave Emmy all by herself. She's only five, and when Miranda isn't around, it's up to Dean to keep an eye on her.
An older woman frowns, a bit shocked as Dean shuffles in. He grins tightly and leads Emily over to an open stall. "Here ya go, baby. This one looks good."
She dashes in, and closes the door. Dean hears the latch click and he leans against the side of the stall.
The old lady washes her hands and then turns to glare at him. "You shouldn't be in here."
"Well, unless you like it when five-year-olds flood bathroom sinks by trying to stuff paper towels down the drains, yes I should," Dean replies.
"Daddy?"
He turns back to the stall door as the old woman leaves. "Yeah?"
"I can't get my jean zipper," she says mournfully.
Dean chuckles and nods. "Open up then."
*****
They eat a quick dinner of pizza and soda, and then hit the road again. It's dark now, and the boys use the old mag lights from the trunk to read by. Dean remembers when they were used to research in the dead of night on the side of a lonely road, and he's glad that's not the case anymore.
Emily is curled up, fast asleep, thumb stuck firmly into her mouth. Dean grimaces. They've been trying to break that habit since she turned five, but it's been no easy task. There have even been a few tears, which he hates with a passion he never would have guessed he had.
Really, it's ridiculous to get upset when your five-year-old cries, because little kids cry all the time. Jamie and Matt did...and it bothered him just as much as Emily's tears, to the point where he's pretty sure he's spoiling the crap out of them, and possibly ruining their lives because it's quite possibly that all three of them will grow up to be entitled little bitches.
Dean glances in the rear view and finds that Matt has fallen asleep. A quick glance to the left and he spots Jamie, comics forgotten, gazing out the window.
"Okay, Dude?" Dean asks softly.
"Yeah," Jamie nods. "Getting tired. Are we almost there?"
"'Nother forty-five minutes. You should take a nap."
"Naps are for babies."
Dean frowns, playfully indignant. "I take naps all the time."
Jamie grins. "Cause you're old."
"Hey now," Dean laughs lightly. "Don't you go there. You don't get to call me old til you're bigger'n me, and you gotta long way to go, shorty." He grins into the rear view. "You been doin' okay? I know things have been pretty crazy...Emmy startin' kindergarten this year an you startin' middle school. How's it goin' so far?"
Jamie nods. "Okay, I guess. I don't really like school."
"Yeah, I was the same way," Dean nods. "But it's important. You know that, right?"
"It's important to Mom," Jamie says.
"Should be important to you, too," Dean replies as he turns off the highway, driving ever closer to Bobby's. "I don't expect straight A's or whatever, but...you should try."
"Why?"
"Cause..." he takes a deep breath. "Cause gettin' good grades actually feels pretty good. Y'know, havin' your work pay off and knowin' you did a job right, and well."
Jamie looks up at him from the window.
"S'why I went back and got my GED," Dean explains. "Even though I dropped outta school to help my dad, I went back cause...cause I felt crappy for not finishing."
Jamie nods. Even in the dark, Dean can tell when he's really listening and when he's just bored, and he's listening; chin held up, and eyes wide. He glances back at his oldest and grins as they stop at a red light.
"You're a smart kid, Jamie," he says. "And...and I'm not gonna give you crap about wasted potential or anything like that cause in the big picture that doesn't really matter. But I want you to feel good about what you do, even if it's school, and even if it seems dumb." He turns back around as the
light turns green. "Cause even if the school work is dumb, you're not."
He glances in the rear view and sees Jamie grin and lean back, looking out the window.
It isn't until after he can hear Jamie snoring softly, and they pull up to Bobby's house that Dean realizes that those were all the things he wished his dad had said to him.
*****
After the Apocalypse ended, Dean and Sam had helped Bobby make his house wheelchair accessible. It had been a bitch and a half, but there was no way Bobby would ever move out of the big old house. It's where his life has always been. So they spent two months replacing the stairs up to the porch with a ramp, and making sure the stair lift worked, getting the doors a little wider, and lowering the kitchen counters.
Dean lifts both Emily and Matt out of the car, and glances down at Jamie. He feels terrible about waking the kid up, but they're both older than they used to be. Jamie's getting big; tall, and he's starting to fill out, and Dean's back isn't what it used to be. He also knows that if he wakes either of his younger kids up now, they'll never go back to sleep.
With Emily slung against his shoulder, Dean reaches down and strokes Jamie's hair. "Come on, Dude," he says quietly. "Up and at 'em, we're here."
Jamie's eyes blink open and he squints up at Dean. He yawns and then slumps out of the car, stumbling a little before getting his footing and following closely up the ramp that replaced the stairs all those years ago to the porch.
Dean walks into the house quietly, stepping over the devil's trap he knows is painted onto the hardwood floor beneath the ratty old welcome mat. Matt shifts in his arm, which is getting tired, as Matt's nine, and while not as heavy as Jamie, he's starting to get bigger.
The whirring of the stair lift gives Bobby away. Dean and Jamie watch him shift from the lift chair to his downstairs wheelchair with expert ease.
"Took you long enough to get here," he complains.
"We stopped on a potty and food break," Dean explains quietly. "Kids had to pee."
Bobby nods and glances at Jamie with a slight grin. "Weak bladder, huh, kid?"
"What?" Jamie snaps, his voice squeaking a little. "No."
Dean chuckles and heads for the living room. "Gonna get these two settled." He lays Matt and then Emily onto the couch, one at each end, before taking an old red blanket that's sitting out and draping it over them. He watches them shift to get comfortable and holds his breath, but thankfully they don't wake up.
By the time he gets back to the front hall, Jamie and Bobby have already moved to the kitchen, sitting at the old table.
"...and I tackled Mark and he cried!"
Bobby chuckles as he sips his beer. "Good for you, Jamie."
Dean shakes his head as he pulls a beer from the fridge. "You are a bad influence on my oldest, you know that?"
"Somebody's gotta be," Bobby snaps. "With you an' Miranda teachin' him all that good behavior...like eatin' his vegetables."
"I like vegetables," Jamie chimes in.
Bobby quirks an eyebrow at Dean. "Sure he's yours?"
"Bite your tongue," Dean replies, slumping into the chair next to Jamie's. "Course he's mine."
"Can I have a beer?" Jamie asks, eyes bright with hope.
Dean grimaces. "See? Totally mine."
Bobby rolls his eyes. "No you can't have a beer. You're eleven. There's coke in the fridge."
Dean swigs some more of his beer before getting to his feet. "I'ma go check on Matt and Emmy."
"You were just in there," Bobby says.
"Well, I'm gonna go check again," Dean replies, annoyed. He saunters into the other room, and looks around. Emily is still fast asleep, curled up and breathing evenly, but Matt is up now, looking through a stack of books.
"Not tired anymore?"
Matt jumps in surprise and steps back from the books, face flushed in the soft light from the desk lamp. "I woke up."
Dean nods. "Remember to ask Uncle Bobby before you go readin' any of his stuff."
Matt nods back, pursing his lips, still looking like he's been caught with a hand in the cookie jar before dinner.
Dean holds a hand out to him, a silent offer to hang out with the big boys, and Matt takes it instantly, small, warm fingers wrapping around his dad's.
******
Dean wakes up early the next morning. He shuffles into the kitchen and makes himself some coffee, and then takes his mug out onto the front porch, wearing a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants and his socks. The old wood creeks under his weight as it's always done and the old chair by the door slides back a little as he sits down.
He's never truly been a morning person, but after raising three kids, it's easier to haul out of bed in the morning. Especially since two of those kids still wake up stupidly early.
Jamie is getting to be that age where getting up early is getting harder, but Matt still manages to be energetic when he gets out of bed, and Emmy gets downright hyper.
Miranda, oddly enough, is the hardest to get out of bed in the morning. She's what Dean calls a slugabed. Not that he doesn't enjoy curling up in bed with his wife, hell, he's missed it these last couple of days with her away on her business trip. It's part of the reason he drove the eight hours to get here in the first place. Not that he'll ever admit that to anyone ever.
Well...he might admit it to Miranda, if only to be romantic and better his chances of getting laid.
It's weird that after being married this long, he still feels like he has to try. He's always figured that marriage would be the end of his love life, but it just kept on going strong. It's with one person. Which is fine. Sex is still awesome, and it helps that he loves his wife.
And that she's hot. That helps too.
His cell phone rings in his pocket and he flips it up, knowing who it is on the other line. "Hey."
"Hello, you," Miranda's voice replies softly. "Alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Dean tells her. "We drove up to Bobby's last night and the kids are still sleepin' off the drive."
"Sounds good," she says. "You a'right from the drive?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he nods, sipping his coffee. "Just sittin' outside. How's work?"
"Oh, it's work," Miranda huffs. "Da's been trying to lure me away for a day trip. But knowing him, it'll turn into a week, and I don't know if I'm in the mood to handle all of the wibbly wobbly timey things."
"I don't blame you," Dean grins. "So. What are you wearing?"
Miranda gives a short laugh, indicating she's probably turning red.
His grin widens and he sits back. "Like when you laugh."
"Well then it's a good thing you make me laugh," she says affectionately. "Kids behaving themselves?"
"Yeah," Dean nods. "There was a thing with Jamie stealing Matt's bookmark yesterday, but it's fine."
"Well, good," Miranda says. And then she changes the subject. "I miss you."
"Yeah I miss you, too," Dean mutters. "By the way, if you get home before we do, don't go into Emmy's room."
"That bad?"
"Worse."
They both laugh a little then. They've learned to let things like messy rooms slide off their backs, taking the mindset of "no harm, no foul."
"I should be off," Miranda sighs.
Dean nods a little and looks out onto the dusty old driveway absently. "Yeah, the kids'll be up soon. They'll be hungry."
"They are yours," Miranda teases with a smile in her voice.
He chuckles as he swallows some coffee. "They'd damn well better be."
"I'll talk to you later."
"Love you," Dean mutters into the phone.
"I love you too," Miranda says softly. "Bye."
Dean nods, as if she can see it, and then flips the phone shut. He hears a giggle from inside house, along with a grumble, signally that at least one kid and Bobby are up and about. He gets to his feet and has a leisurely stretch before wandering back inside.
*****
They spend the day in the salvage yard. Dean splits his time between working on an old GTO and keeping an eye on the kids. Emily seems the most interested in engines and cars, oddly enough, while the boys pester Bobby and play tag, and pirates.
"Yarrrrrr!" Jamie cries from atop a worryingly high pile of junked cars. "I be the great pirate Winchester and this be me ship!"
Dean looks up, lifting a hand to shade his eyes from the hot afternoon sun. Usually their tree house back home serves as the pirate ship, but the cars are probably much more exciting to use. "Alright, Winchester, be careful up there."
"Pirates don't need to be careful!" Matt growls out. "Arrr!"
Bobby shakes his head as he watches. "Nutso kids."
Dean smirks and takes a hand towel from his back pocket, using it to gently wipe some grease from Emily's face. She's sitting on the side of th GTO, looking inside the hood, her big green eyes squinting in the sun and her hair set into pigtails. He's had to learn a whole new skill set for being the father of a daughter. How to get a dress zipper unstuck, how to braid hair. She's not so much a girly girl, thanks to Dean being...well, Dean, and Miranda being more interested in buying Emily books and science kits than dolls and dress-up clothes.
Emily pops her finger into her mouth. "Daddy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Did you and Uncle Sammy play pirates?"
Dean doesn't look at her, simply goes back to staring at the engine. "Sometimes."
Bobby snorts. He knows the truth. They never played pirates. They rarely ever played anything.
"Daddy?" Emily asks again.
"Yeah."
"How much pony power does this car have?"
Dean laughs, a loud, hearty sound he never knew he could make til he had kids. "Horse power, Emmy. Not pony power."
"Oh," she replies. "How much?"
He grins at her.
*****
It's been a tradition since the Winchesters started to spend weeks at a time at Bobby's house to fill up the bonfire pit, light it up and sit around roasting various unhealthy foods. However, it wasn't until Sam and Dean started having their own kids that the stories started.
The kids are a mess, dirty from the salvage yard, with sticky hands from the marshmallows they've been gobbling up.
Dean smiles and doesn't bother trying to clean Emily up. It's not worth it until they go inside, and even then, she'll be tired. He might as well wait til morning.
But right now, the kids are enthralled, wholly and completely by Bobby, in his wheelchair, telling a tale of monsters and mayhem.
"...And your uncle Sam says 'I lost my shoe.'"
The kids giggle and laugh and Dean grins and shakes his head. Bobby wasn't there for this particular adventure, but he can retell the details told to him like nobody else.
"He did too. Shoe went right down the grating. Which is amazing, cause your uncle Sammy has really big feet." Dean impales a hot dog on his sharpened stick and hovers it over the fire.
"Like a clown's?" Matt asks.
"Oh, now, Matty, you know your Uncle Sam don't like clowns," Bobby grins.
"He's a big scaredy-cat!" Emily giggles.
"Clowns are kinda creepy though," Jamie chimes in. "The make-up and the wig...it's all so..." He shudders visibly.
"Yeah they are a little messed up, huh?" Dean asks. He reaches over and ruffles his oldest's hair a little. "No clowns for you. Duly noted."
"So as I was sayin," Bobby snaps, giving them a good-natured smirk. "Before we got on the clown subject-"
"Which is a story for another time, when Emmy is older," Dean chimes in.
"Like I was sayin," Bobby repeats. "About the rabbit's foot..."
Dean sits back and lets Bobby talk. He watches the kids take everything in, from Jamie, leaning back against the log that Matt is sitting on, looking relaxed and happy, to Matt, who is leaning forward, hanging on every word that leaves Bobby's lips. He gets so caught up in stories, whether they be in a book or on a screen or comin' from somebody's mouth.
Emily cuddles up in Dean's lap, and he hears her give a little yawn. It's getting late and she'll fall asleep before they go inside. Hell, she'll probably fall asleep before the story ends. That's okay. She's five. She's allowed.
Jamie laughs loudly when Bobby gets to the part where Sam lights his arm on fire, and Matt's face lights up like it's Christmas. Emily giggles and Dean shakes his head. He knows very well the next time Sam and his kids are here, Bobby's gonna tell the one about how he turned into an old man for a couple of days, or the one about the ghost sickness. That's okay. They make the kids laugh, so he can more than deal with it.
*****
They get the kids to bed late, and Dean slumps down at the kitchen table with a beer.
"So?" Bobby asks. "Things are good?"
Dean nods after taking a sip. "Yeah. Things are real good. Miranda'll be back tomorrow night."
Bobby nods and sits back in his chair. "I never woulda guessed."
Dean blinks and looks at him. "What?"
"You," Bobby grins. "Wife, house, passel of kids."
Dean sits back and sighs, looking up at the cracked kitchen ceiling. "Me neither."
They sit in comfortable silence and for a moment, and suddenly Dean feels an itch in his gut. He sits up and looks around the old house. "I'm gonna salt the doors and windows."
Bobby frowns. "Expecting company?"
"Better safe than screwed," Dean mutters, before getting up and heading for where he knows Bobby keeps the salt.
*****
Dean gets up early again the next morning, and downs a cup of coffee quickly before waking the kids. He gives Emily a quick, thorough bath, before standing outside the bathroom door while Matt takes a shower. He's new to the world of showers, and it makes Dean paranoid as hell, but Matt's a smart kid, and he had to learn to get himself clean sometime.
Still...
Jamie hits the shower after Matt and sings Blue Oyster Cult at the top of his lungs. He's perfectly on key, and it sounds awesome. Dean makes a mental note to talk to Jamie about more music lessons. Miranda taught him to play piano, but the kid was a little bored with it. Maybe he'd be more interested in guitar or bass...or drums...
Dean gets his turn with the shower, and then gets everybody packed and fed.
He's loading up the car, when Jamie walks out to him.
"Hey, dude, ready to go?"
Jamie frowns. "Dad, how come there was salt at the door? Did something happen last night?"
Dean turns back to fitting their bags into the Impala's trunk. "Nope. Just bein' careful."
"Okay," Jamie replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you're sure."
Dean glances at him and reaches out an arm, pulls him in by the shoulders. "I'm a crazy, paranoid old man," he says quietly. "And I don't like takin' chances where you kids are concerned."
Jamie nods and hugs him. "It's okay, Dad. We're fine."
"I know," Dean nods. He pats the kid's back gently. "What say you and me hit the shooting range after school tomorrow?"
"Okay, Dad."
"Okay."
A moment later, Matt and Emily run out of the house and toward the car. Bobby follows, wheeling himself down the ramp.
"Take care, Dean," Bobby said.
They clasp hands tightly and Dean nods. "You too, Bobby. And you know if you ever get sick of being all by youself-"
"Get outta here, ya idjit," Bobby snaps before Dean can finish.
Hugs are collected from each kid, and Dean gets everybody settled and buckled for their long drive. He gets in and waves to Bobby, before pulling out of the driveway and heading off. As the kids settle in, with their books and comics and toys, he thinks briefly of a time when there was only one other person in the car with him, ever, and they were never heading home, just to the next job. He's trying to figure out whether he misses it or not when he looks in the rear view to find Matt sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.
Yeah. Not really.
It's a long drive home, and Dean's pretty sure they packed everything. However, he realizes that they forgot the extra potty break for the kids, which means they'll be stopping off in a half hour or so when one or all of them realize just how badly they have to go.
Dean huffs softly, and flicks the radio on. Ozzy Osbourne wails through the speakers, and he grins as Jamie and Matt hum along, and Emily makes up her own words to the song.
END
Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to Kripke. No money involved.
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the series so far. Nothing huge.
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen, kidfic, (with slight het)
Summary: Spending the weekend anywhere but home is a rare occurrence, mostly because getting three very different children prepared for it is like an Olympic sport. Dean takes his kids on a weekend trip to Bobby's and comes to the conclusion that chaos comes in many forms. The one without monsters has so far been his favorite.
under the cut
So it turns out that while Dean had always wanted to play baseball as a kid, his oldest is more of a football nut. The American kind, not the British kind, though that woulda made Miranda happy.
So the next stop on Dean's pickup list is the field behind the local middle school, where aforementioned oldest is currently tackling the crap out of another kid at practice.
Dean claps, not an easy feat with a dozing five-year-old in his arms, but he manages. "Good hustle, Dude!" he calls.
The other parents are all mothers, and they turn to look at him, some a little confused, some a little exasperated, and some a little flirty or amused. He gives them his best shit eating grin, until the boys all come running over to their respective parents.
James Samuel Winchester pulls his helmet off and grins up at Dean, all eleven-year-old enthusiasm and energy. His hair, short and dirty blond, is matted to his forehead and his green eyes aren't as big as his sister's, but they hold much more mischief. "Hey, Dad!"
"Lookin' good out there," Dean tells him, ruffling his sweaty hair. "Grab your stuff, it's go time."
Jamie nods and trots over to where everyone has their stuff.
"Dean!"
He turns and grins at the pee wee football coach, who happens to be a customer of his. "Hey, Alan."
"Jamie's got a lot of promise," Alan tells him.
"Ah yes, eleven and already set for the NFL," Dean jokes. It's always a joke.
Alan chuckles. "How's the garage?"
"Same old," Dean replies. "Closing up shop for the weekend, actually. Wife's outta town, so I'm takin' the kids on a little road trip."
Alan grins. "Have fun then."
Jamie clomps over, still sweaty and still energetic. "Time to go?"
"You bet." Dean nods to Alan and herds Jamie over to the Impala, placing his gear and backpack into the trunk. 'Imagine that, Baby,' Dean thinks affectionately toward his car as he sets Emily in the backseat, still dozing. 'You've become a mommy mobile.'
"Where to now, Dad?" Jamie asks as he climbs into the front seat. The kid doesn't half smell from practice, but it'll be easily fixed once they get home.
"We gotta pick up your brother," Dean replies as he slides easily into the driver's seat. "Then we gotta get everybody cleaned up and fed, because we...are goin' to uncle Bobby's."
"Alright!" Jamie cries, bouncing with excitement.
Dean marvels sometimes about Jamie. He remembers being a sullen, snarky eleven-year-old, full of contempt for life and Sam and everything and everyone else, even Dad. But Jamie...Jamie's just easy. Jamie lets everything that would have bothered Dean slide off of him like melting butter on a hot skillet. And Dean is damn grateful for that.
Dean starts up the car, and pulls out of his parking space, drawing the attention of the other parents. He revs the engine and speeds away. It wakes Emily, and Dean sees her rub her eyes and stretch. When she smiles at him, he reaches over, flipping on the stereo, turning up Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla" til it makes the Impala hum, and a couple of mothers they pass jump about four feet in the air.
*****
Matthew John Winchester is a worrier. He's nine, and he's waiting outside the library after his reading group, listening for the thrum of the Impala, hoping to see her black shiny hood coming around the corner. He stands on his tiptoes sometimes, his warn in off white Chuck Taylors (the ones his Grandda got him) bend from the weight.
The wind picks up just a little, enough to make him shiver and his red, shaggy hair blow into his eyes.
For about five more minutes, no dice, and he bites his lip. His mom usual picks him up from reading group, but she's out of town on business. What if his dad forgot? What if he got held up in traffic? Or got into an accident?
What if there were monsters?!
He feels his stomach churn, and feels a little bile start to rise up, but it dies down when the Impala zooms into the parking lot and up to the curb.
"Sorry we're late, Matty," his father says sincerely. "We stopped off for mini pie."
Matt gives a grin, and visibly relaxes as Jamie swings the door to the front seat open, and Matt climbs in, wiggling against his older brother, who is covered in dried sweat and smells like grass, but that's okay. Jamie gets them situated and pulls the seatbelt across both of their laps and hooks it.
Dean reaches into a plastic bag and pulls out a wrapped miniature lemon pie, handing it over. Jamie has apple, and Emily has cherry, and Matt always gets lemon, just like his dad. He likes the way the wrapper crinkles and rips and he likes the flaky crust and the way the goo inside is sweet and tart and an unnatural shade of yellow.
He smiles up at Dean, who reaches over and strokes more than ruffles his hair. "How were the books today?"
Matt nods as he swallows. "Good. Mom's are better."
Dean grins and drives out of the parking lot. "Well, you can pick one out for the ride to Uncle Bobby's."
Matt's eyes go wide. "Really?! When!"
"Tonight. We hit the road."
"Awesome," Matt says as he takes another bite of his pie.
******
Spending the weekend anywhere but home is a rare occurrence, mostly because getting three very different children prepared for it is like an Olympic sport.
"Where's my spare guitar strings?" Jamie asks, as he digs through the couch cushions.
Dean is packing juice boxes into a cooler. "Wherever you left it, Dude."
Jamie huffs. "I thought they were in my room, but they're not."
"Well, keep lookin'. Matty!" Dean calls. "You got your books picked out?!"
"Almost!"
"What do you mean almost?"
"I have five! I want two more!"
"Don't you think five's plenty?" Dean walks out to the living room where Matt is sitting in front of the big bookshelf, shaggy red hair getting into his big, brown eyes. "Uncle Bobby's got books, too, you know. And there's a used place near his house we can hit if you get desperate."
Matt pouts and adjusts his glasses. "I guess."
Dean sighs. "Try to pick one more. Six is a nice even number." He turns and looks around. "Where's your sister?"
"I thought she was in the kitchen," Matt said.
"No," Dean said slowly. "Emmy?!"
"What?!" she calls from upstairs.
"What're you doin?!"
"Packing!"
This is worrying.
"Emmy, I already packed your bag!"
"I packed more!"
Oh, hell.
Dean takes the stairs two at a time and reaches Emily's bedroom doorway. The entire room is a complete and utter warzone. Like it's been hit by a hurricane. "Oh, Emmy..."
She pouts.
"We'll clean this all up when we get home," Dean says, lifting her up. He hopes they can get it all cleaned up before Miranda gets back. "All you have to do is pick which friends you wanna take with."
This is not hard. Not at all. She points to the big scruffy-looking teddy bear sitting on the bed. His name is Humphrey, and Dean walks over to him, trying to avoid killing himself on piles of toys and clothes on the floor. Humphrey had shown up as a gift from Rufus Turner of all people. Word of
Dean's kids had spread like wildfire in the hunting community, or what was left of it after the whole apocalyptic crap.
It turns out that Rufus is fond of small kids, more than adults, though that's not a shock. Adults, in Rufus' view are usually out to screw you over. Kids are just kids.
The next "friend" she points to is a stuffed ninja turtle that's sitting on a book shelf next to a copy of The Stinky Cheeseman and Dean maneuvers to snatch it up. Bobby had gotten it before they figured out Emily was going to be a girl. He'd gotten Jamie Michaelangelo, and Matt had gotten Donatello. Emily's is Raphael.
"Anybody else?" Dean asks.
She shakes her head, wavy, wispy hair flying across her face and then grabs Raphael, hugging the unnaturally green toy closely.
Dean sighs and takes one more look at the mess before heading down the stairs. "Boys! You ready?!"
"Give it back, Jamie!"
"Nope!"
Dean sighs heavily. "Boys..."
"Jamie won't give me back my favorite bookmark," Matt says.
Dean walks into the kitchen, where Jamie is standing on the kitchen counter with the red and blue Spider-Man bookmark held over his head. "James."
Jamie smiles. "Hey, Dad."
"Did Matt do anything to you that forced you to steal his favorite bookmark?"
"...No..."
"Then what the frak, Dude?"
Jamie frowns and slowly gets down from the counter. He hands the bookmark back to Matt, who takes it quickly, a frown on his face as well.
Dean glances between the two boys. "Matt, you get a free hit."
"That sucks!" Jamie cries.
"Thems the rules, Jamie," Dean tells him. "You do something crappy to your brother without a reason, he gets a free hit."
Matt smiles brightly as he makes a fist and slugs his older brother in the arm. It doesn't do very much, Jamie being older, and much bigger than his brother, but it gives Matt the vindication he needs to get over the indignation of having his bookmark stolen, and it makes Jamie feel a little
like a tool which will help him remember not to pull crap like this again.
Dean adjusts Emily in his arms and then lifts the cheerful yellow bag that's serving as Emily's duffel. "Grab your packs, guys, it's time to hit the road."
*****
It's an eight hour drive from Kansas to South Dakota. If Dean could get away with it, he'd let Jamie and Matt share the front seat like they do on short rides, but it's much safer for them to sit separately on longer trips. Also? They'd kill each other pretty bad if they had to share that seat for eight hours.
To solve the shotgun argument, Dean declares that Emily gets it. She's dozing lightly, Humphrey at her feet and Raphael in her arms. Matt is, of course, reading his adorably dweeby heart out, and Jamie has a stack of old Batmans to plow through. One of the old ladies in their neighborhood had
them lying around, and while Jamie isn't a fan of novels like Matt, he will spend hours reading comics instead of doing his homework.
Dean has the windows cracked, and the stereo playing Zeppelin quietly, happy to be on the road; a nice quiet drive that isn't taking them to their doom, but to a big old house owned by an ornery old bastard who can still find it in his curmudgeonly heart to pass out candy and old toys to the Winchester kids even a generation later.
He gazes out the windshield, and spots a sign for a rest stop in a couple miles. It's been two hours on the road. "Okay. Who needs to pee?"
*****
He trusts Jamie enough to keep an eye on Matt and watches them disappear into the men's room at the rest stop, before squaring his shoulders and pushing the door to the ladies' room open. The fingers of his other hand are being gripped firmly by Emily.
This used to be very weird, waltzing into the women's bathroom, but he can't leave Emmy all by herself. She's only five, and when Miranda isn't around, it's up to Dean to keep an eye on her.
An older woman frowns, a bit shocked as Dean shuffles in. He grins tightly and leads Emily over to an open stall. "Here ya go, baby. This one looks good."
She dashes in, and closes the door. Dean hears the latch click and he leans against the side of the stall.
The old lady washes her hands and then turns to glare at him. "You shouldn't be in here."
"Well, unless you like it when five-year-olds flood bathroom sinks by trying to stuff paper towels down the drains, yes I should," Dean replies.
"Daddy?"
He turns back to the stall door as the old woman leaves. "Yeah?"
"I can't get my jean zipper," she says mournfully.
Dean chuckles and nods. "Open up then."
*****
They eat a quick dinner of pizza and soda, and then hit the road again. It's dark now, and the boys use the old mag lights from the trunk to read by. Dean remembers when they were used to research in the dead of night on the side of a lonely road, and he's glad that's not the case anymore.
Emily is curled up, fast asleep, thumb stuck firmly into her mouth. Dean grimaces. They've been trying to break that habit since she turned five, but it's been no easy task. There have even been a few tears, which he hates with a passion he never would have guessed he had.
Really, it's ridiculous to get upset when your five-year-old cries, because little kids cry all the time. Jamie and Matt did...and it bothered him just as much as Emily's tears, to the point where he's pretty sure he's spoiling the crap out of them, and possibly ruining their lives because it's quite possibly that all three of them will grow up to be entitled little bitches.
Dean glances in the rear view and finds that Matt has fallen asleep. A quick glance to the left and he spots Jamie, comics forgotten, gazing out the window.
"Okay, Dude?" Dean asks softly.
"Yeah," Jamie nods. "Getting tired. Are we almost there?"
"'Nother forty-five minutes. You should take a nap."
"Naps are for babies."
Dean frowns, playfully indignant. "I take naps all the time."
Jamie grins. "Cause you're old."
"Hey now," Dean laughs lightly. "Don't you go there. You don't get to call me old til you're bigger'n me, and you gotta long way to go, shorty." He grins into the rear view. "You been doin' okay? I know things have been pretty crazy...Emmy startin' kindergarten this year an you startin' middle school. How's it goin' so far?"
Jamie nods. "Okay, I guess. I don't really like school."
"Yeah, I was the same way," Dean nods. "But it's important. You know that, right?"
"It's important to Mom," Jamie says.
"Should be important to you, too," Dean replies as he turns off the highway, driving ever closer to Bobby's. "I don't expect straight A's or whatever, but...you should try."
"Why?"
"Cause..." he takes a deep breath. "Cause gettin' good grades actually feels pretty good. Y'know, havin' your work pay off and knowin' you did a job right, and well."
Jamie looks up at him from the window.
"S'why I went back and got my GED," Dean explains. "Even though I dropped outta school to help my dad, I went back cause...cause I felt crappy for not finishing."
Jamie nods. Even in the dark, Dean can tell when he's really listening and when he's just bored, and he's listening; chin held up, and eyes wide. He glances back at his oldest and grins as they stop at a red light.
"You're a smart kid, Jamie," he says. "And...and I'm not gonna give you crap about wasted potential or anything like that cause in the big picture that doesn't really matter. But I want you to feel good about what you do, even if it's school, and even if it seems dumb." He turns back around as the
light turns green. "Cause even if the school work is dumb, you're not."
He glances in the rear view and sees Jamie grin and lean back, looking out the window.
It isn't until after he can hear Jamie snoring softly, and they pull up to Bobby's house that Dean realizes that those were all the things he wished his dad had said to him.
*****
After the Apocalypse ended, Dean and Sam had helped Bobby make his house wheelchair accessible. It had been a bitch and a half, but there was no way Bobby would ever move out of the big old house. It's where his life has always been. So they spent two months replacing the stairs up to the porch with a ramp, and making sure the stair lift worked, getting the doors a little wider, and lowering the kitchen counters.
Dean lifts both Emily and Matt out of the car, and glances down at Jamie. He feels terrible about waking the kid up, but they're both older than they used to be. Jamie's getting big; tall, and he's starting to fill out, and Dean's back isn't what it used to be. He also knows that if he wakes either of his younger kids up now, they'll never go back to sleep.
With Emily slung against his shoulder, Dean reaches down and strokes Jamie's hair. "Come on, Dude," he says quietly. "Up and at 'em, we're here."
Jamie's eyes blink open and he squints up at Dean. He yawns and then slumps out of the car, stumbling a little before getting his footing and following closely up the ramp that replaced the stairs all those years ago to the porch.
Dean walks into the house quietly, stepping over the devil's trap he knows is painted onto the hardwood floor beneath the ratty old welcome mat. Matt shifts in his arm, which is getting tired, as Matt's nine, and while not as heavy as Jamie, he's starting to get bigger.
The whirring of the stair lift gives Bobby away. Dean and Jamie watch him shift from the lift chair to his downstairs wheelchair with expert ease.
"Took you long enough to get here," he complains.
"We stopped on a potty and food break," Dean explains quietly. "Kids had to pee."
Bobby nods and glances at Jamie with a slight grin. "Weak bladder, huh, kid?"
"What?" Jamie snaps, his voice squeaking a little. "No."
Dean chuckles and heads for the living room. "Gonna get these two settled." He lays Matt and then Emily onto the couch, one at each end, before taking an old red blanket that's sitting out and draping it over them. He watches them shift to get comfortable and holds his breath, but thankfully they don't wake up.
By the time he gets back to the front hall, Jamie and Bobby have already moved to the kitchen, sitting at the old table.
"...and I tackled Mark and he cried!"
Bobby chuckles as he sips his beer. "Good for you, Jamie."
Dean shakes his head as he pulls a beer from the fridge. "You are a bad influence on my oldest, you know that?"
"Somebody's gotta be," Bobby snaps. "With you an' Miranda teachin' him all that good behavior...like eatin' his vegetables."
"I like vegetables," Jamie chimes in.
Bobby quirks an eyebrow at Dean. "Sure he's yours?"
"Bite your tongue," Dean replies, slumping into the chair next to Jamie's. "Course he's mine."
"Can I have a beer?" Jamie asks, eyes bright with hope.
Dean grimaces. "See? Totally mine."
Bobby rolls his eyes. "No you can't have a beer. You're eleven. There's coke in the fridge."
Dean swigs some more of his beer before getting to his feet. "I'ma go check on Matt and Emmy."
"You were just in there," Bobby says.
"Well, I'm gonna go check again," Dean replies, annoyed. He saunters into the other room, and looks around. Emily is still fast asleep, curled up and breathing evenly, but Matt is up now, looking through a stack of books.
"Not tired anymore?"
Matt jumps in surprise and steps back from the books, face flushed in the soft light from the desk lamp. "I woke up."
Dean nods. "Remember to ask Uncle Bobby before you go readin' any of his stuff."
Matt nods back, pursing his lips, still looking like he's been caught with a hand in the cookie jar before dinner.
Dean holds a hand out to him, a silent offer to hang out with the big boys, and Matt takes it instantly, small, warm fingers wrapping around his dad's.
******
Dean wakes up early the next morning. He shuffles into the kitchen and makes himself some coffee, and then takes his mug out onto the front porch, wearing a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants and his socks. The old wood creeks under his weight as it's always done and the old chair by the door slides back a little as he sits down.
He's never truly been a morning person, but after raising three kids, it's easier to haul out of bed in the morning. Especially since two of those kids still wake up stupidly early.
Jamie is getting to be that age where getting up early is getting harder, but Matt still manages to be energetic when he gets out of bed, and Emmy gets downright hyper.
Miranda, oddly enough, is the hardest to get out of bed in the morning. She's what Dean calls a slugabed. Not that he doesn't enjoy curling up in bed with his wife, hell, he's missed it these last couple of days with her away on her business trip. It's part of the reason he drove the eight hours to get here in the first place. Not that he'll ever admit that to anyone ever.
Well...he might admit it to Miranda, if only to be romantic and better his chances of getting laid.
It's weird that after being married this long, he still feels like he has to try. He's always figured that marriage would be the end of his love life, but it just kept on going strong. It's with one person. Which is fine. Sex is still awesome, and it helps that he loves his wife.
And that she's hot. That helps too.
His cell phone rings in his pocket and he flips it up, knowing who it is on the other line. "Hey."
"Hello, you," Miranda's voice replies softly. "Alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Dean tells her. "We drove up to Bobby's last night and the kids are still sleepin' off the drive."
"Sounds good," she says. "You a'right from the drive?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he nods, sipping his coffee. "Just sittin' outside. How's work?"
"Oh, it's work," Miranda huffs. "Da's been trying to lure me away for a day trip. But knowing him, it'll turn into a week, and I don't know if I'm in the mood to handle all of the wibbly wobbly timey things."
"I don't blame you," Dean grins. "So. What are you wearing?"
Miranda gives a short laugh, indicating she's probably turning red.
His grin widens and he sits back. "Like when you laugh."
"Well then it's a good thing you make me laugh," she says affectionately. "Kids behaving themselves?"
"Yeah," Dean nods. "There was a thing with Jamie stealing Matt's bookmark yesterday, but it's fine."
"Well, good," Miranda says. And then she changes the subject. "I miss you."
"Yeah I miss you, too," Dean mutters. "By the way, if you get home before we do, don't go into Emmy's room."
"That bad?"
"Worse."
They both laugh a little then. They've learned to let things like messy rooms slide off their backs, taking the mindset of "no harm, no foul."
"I should be off," Miranda sighs.
Dean nods a little and looks out onto the dusty old driveway absently. "Yeah, the kids'll be up soon. They'll be hungry."
"They are yours," Miranda teases with a smile in her voice.
He chuckles as he swallows some coffee. "They'd damn well better be."
"I'll talk to you later."
"Love you," Dean mutters into the phone.
"I love you too," Miranda says softly. "Bye."
Dean nods, as if she can see it, and then flips the phone shut. He hears a giggle from inside house, along with a grumble, signally that at least one kid and Bobby are up and about. He gets to his feet and has a leisurely stretch before wandering back inside.
*****
They spend the day in the salvage yard. Dean splits his time between working on an old GTO and keeping an eye on the kids. Emily seems the most interested in engines and cars, oddly enough, while the boys pester Bobby and play tag, and pirates.
"Yarrrrrr!" Jamie cries from atop a worryingly high pile of junked cars. "I be the great pirate Winchester and this be me ship!"
Dean looks up, lifting a hand to shade his eyes from the hot afternoon sun. Usually their tree house back home serves as the pirate ship, but the cars are probably much more exciting to use. "Alright, Winchester, be careful up there."
"Pirates don't need to be careful!" Matt growls out. "Arrr!"
Bobby shakes his head as he watches. "Nutso kids."
Dean smirks and takes a hand towel from his back pocket, using it to gently wipe some grease from Emily's face. She's sitting on the side of th GTO, looking inside the hood, her big green eyes squinting in the sun and her hair set into pigtails. He's had to learn a whole new skill set for being the father of a daughter. How to get a dress zipper unstuck, how to braid hair. She's not so much a girly girl, thanks to Dean being...well, Dean, and Miranda being more interested in buying Emily books and science kits than dolls and dress-up clothes.
Emily pops her finger into her mouth. "Daddy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Did you and Uncle Sammy play pirates?"
Dean doesn't look at her, simply goes back to staring at the engine. "Sometimes."
Bobby snorts. He knows the truth. They never played pirates. They rarely ever played anything.
"Daddy?" Emily asks again.
"Yeah."
"How much pony power does this car have?"
Dean laughs, a loud, hearty sound he never knew he could make til he had kids. "Horse power, Emmy. Not pony power."
"Oh," she replies. "How much?"
He grins at her.
*****
It's been a tradition since the Winchesters started to spend weeks at a time at Bobby's house to fill up the bonfire pit, light it up and sit around roasting various unhealthy foods. However, it wasn't until Sam and Dean started having their own kids that the stories started.
The kids are a mess, dirty from the salvage yard, with sticky hands from the marshmallows they've been gobbling up.
Dean smiles and doesn't bother trying to clean Emily up. It's not worth it until they go inside, and even then, she'll be tired. He might as well wait til morning.
But right now, the kids are enthralled, wholly and completely by Bobby, in his wheelchair, telling a tale of monsters and mayhem.
"...And your uncle Sam says 'I lost my shoe.'"
The kids giggle and laugh and Dean grins and shakes his head. Bobby wasn't there for this particular adventure, but he can retell the details told to him like nobody else.
"He did too. Shoe went right down the grating. Which is amazing, cause your uncle Sammy has really big feet." Dean impales a hot dog on his sharpened stick and hovers it over the fire.
"Like a clown's?" Matt asks.
"Oh, now, Matty, you know your Uncle Sam don't like clowns," Bobby grins.
"He's a big scaredy-cat!" Emily giggles.
"Clowns are kinda creepy though," Jamie chimes in. "The make-up and the wig...it's all so..." He shudders visibly.
"Yeah they are a little messed up, huh?" Dean asks. He reaches over and ruffles his oldest's hair a little. "No clowns for you. Duly noted."
"So as I was sayin," Bobby snaps, giving them a good-natured smirk. "Before we got on the clown subject-"
"Which is a story for another time, when Emmy is older," Dean chimes in.
"Like I was sayin," Bobby repeats. "About the rabbit's foot..."
Dean sits back and lets Bobby talk. He watches the kids take everything in, from Jamie, leaning back against the log that Matt is sitting on, looking relaxed and happy, to Matt, who is leaning forward, hanging on every word that leaves Bobby's lips. He gets so caught up in stories, whether they be in a book or on a screen or comin' from somebody's mouth.
Emily cuddles up in Dean's lap, and he hears her give a little yawn. It's getting late and she'll fall asleep before they go inside. Hell, she'll probably fall asleep before the story ends. That's okay. She's five. She's allowed.
Jamie laughs loudly when Bobby gets to the part where Sam lights his arm on fire, and Matt's face lights up like it's Christmas. Emily giggles and Dean shakes his head. He knows very well the next time Sam and his kids are here, Bobby's gonna tell the one about how he turned into an old man for a couple of days, or the one about the ghost sickness. That's okay. They make the kids laugh, so he can more than deal with it.
*****
They get the kids to bed late, and Dean slumps down at the kitchen table with a beer.
"So?" Bobby asks. "Things are good?"
Dean nods after taking a sip. "Yeah. Things are real good. Miranda'll be back tomorrow night."
Bobby nods and sits back in his chair. "I never woulda guessed."
Dean blinks and looks at him. "What?"
"You," Bobby grins. "Wife, house, passel of kids."
Dean sits back and sighs, looking up at the cracked kitchen ceiling. "Me neither."
They sit in comfortable silence and for a moment, and suddenly Dean feels an itch in his gut. He sits up and looks around the old house. "I'm gonna salt the doors and windows."
Bobby frowns. "Expecting company?"
"Better safe than screwed," Dean mutters, before getting up and heading for where he knows Bobby keeps the salt.
*****
Dean gets up early again the next morning, and downs a cup of coffee quickly before waking the kids. He gives Emily a quick, thorough bath, before standing outside the bathroom door while Matt takes a shower. He's new to the world of showers, and it makes Dean paranoid as hell, but Matt's a smart kid, and he had to learn to get himself clean sometime.
Still...
Jamie hits the shower after Matt and sings Blue Oyster Cult at the top of his lungs. He's perfectly on key, and it sounds awesome. Dean makes a mental note to talk to Jamie about more music lessons. Miranda taught him to play piano, but the kid was a little bored with it. Maybe he'd be more interested in guitar or bass...or drums...
Dean gets his turn with the shower, and then gets everybody packed and fed.
He's loading up the car, when Jamie walks out to him.
"Hey, dude, ready to go?"
Jamie frowns. "Dad, how come there was salt at the door? Did something happen last night?"
Dean turns back to fitting their bags into the Impala's trunk. "Nope. Just bein' careful."
"Okay," Jamie replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you're sure."
Dean glances at him and reaches out an arm, pulls him in by the shoulders. "I'm a crazy, paranoid old man," he says quietly. "And I don't like takin' chances where you kids are concerned."
Jamie nods and hugs him. "It's okay, Dad. We're fine."
"I know," Dean nods. He pats the kid's back gently. "What say you and me hit the shooting range after school tomorrow?"
"Okay, Dad."
"Okay."
A moment later, Matt and Emily run out of the house and toward the car. Bobby follows, wheeling himself down the ramp.
"Take care, Dean," Bobby said.
They clasp hands tightly and Dean nods. "You too, Bobby. And you know if you ever get sick of being all by youself-"
"Get outta here, ya idjit," Bobby snaps before Dean can finish.
Hugs are collected from each kid, and Dean gets everybody settled and buckled for their long drive. He gets in and waves to Bobby, before pulling out of the driveway and heading off. As the kids settle in, with their books and comics and toys, he thinks briefly of a time when there was only one other person in the car with him, ever, and they were never heading home, just to the next job. He's trying to figure out whether he misses it or not when he looks in the rear view to find Matt sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.
Yeah. Not really.
It's a long drive home, and Dean's pretty sure they packed everything. However, he realizes that they forgot the extra potty break for the kids, which means they'll be stopping off in a half hour or so when one or all of them realize just how badly they have to go.
Dean huffs softly, and flicks the radio on. Ozzy Osbourne wails through the speakers, and he grins as Jamie and Matt hum along, and Emily makes up her own words to the song.
END