The Seduction of Scott, Part 17, Supernatural, Keeper!Verse, PG-13
Title: The Seduction of Scott, Part 17
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, Scott, John (alas no Aristotle here)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship)
Word Count: 1983
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Written by my friend M, Post-trauma (from Part 16) for Scott. The Winchesters help him cope in a Winchester-y way.
Thursday - 4 p.m.
Dana text to Scott: b free sat at 2 pm
Scott text to Dana: y
Dana text to Scott: shooting range w/ me dad papa
Scott text to Dana: ???!!!
Dana text to Scott: busy now will explain later
Thursday - 8 p.m.
Dana dialed Scott's cell number.
Scott answered before she heard it ring. "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get you for hours." Scott seemed a tad out of control.
"Yeah, I got that from the 35 voice messages. What’s wrong?"
"Wherehaveyoubeen?" His voice was rising
"Gee Scott, relax already. You know I had something to do with Sam after school. Anyway, weren't you busy with the Stanford recruiter? How'd that go?"
"Doesn't matter." He brushed it off. "What is this shooting range thing?"
"They're concerned about you, after - you know. Want to make sure you can handle yourself with a weapon." She paused then added, "It's their way." Truly hoped he'd understand.
"Dana. I am NOT going anywhere where your grandfather is armed."
Dana chortled. "Hate to break it to you sweetie but Papa goes EVERYWHERE armed to the fuckin' teeth. He even has a special shelf in the shower to rest his gun."
"You are so making that up."
"I am so NOT making that up. Papa usually has two guns and two knives on him. He is a very prepared guy," she finished, proudly.
"He's a very scary guy," Scott retorted.
"Relax Scott. They're doing this because they care. We'll talk tomorrow at school. Night." She hung up
Saturday
They ended up picking him up at 1 p.m. Scott shuffled down the path as if he was headed to his boring aunt’s house and crawled into the back seat of the SUV, head hung low, next to Dana. Dean was driving and John was in the passenger seat.
“Hi,” said Scott, to no one in particular.
Dana looked up at him. Her hair was done up in pigtails and she was in combat fatigues and sunglasses. She looked like an uber-cute GI Dana.
She smiled some courage at him and reached for his hand.
They’d argued at school on Friday about this little outing. Scott had told Dana he was a fine shot and didn’t need to go out to some abandoned factory somewhere to prove it. Dana had explained over and over, less patiently each time, that it would be fun. It was clear to Scott that he did not comprehend the Winchester concept of fun. It was equally clear that he had to go.
At the outskirts of town, they stopped at Ricky’s Burger Shack. Dean threw the SUV into park.
“Figured we were headed here. First place you go to eat if Sam isn’t around,” commented John.
“Sam’s a smart guy but he doesn’t understand the value of a good greasy burger and fries.”
John shook his head. “Sam understands the contributing factors of coronary heart disease.”
“Exactly why it’s so damn good.” Both men opened their doors and hopped out.
Dean turned to the kids. “Come on. Burgers are calling.”
“In a sec Dad,” Dana replied. Dean shut the door, leaving them alone.
Dana tightened her grip on Scott’s hand. “Relax. Seriously. You know how to shoot.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” Truth was, since killing Troy, werewolf Troy, Scott had been uptight about everything. He hadn’t slept well and was freaking out at any odd noise.
“But what, Scott?” Dana pulled off her sunglasses and gazed into his eyes.
“Just not sure of anything,” he managed.
“I get that. Dad and Papa want to help. Today will be good. Just trust me a bit, k?” Scott nodded.
Dana went to exit the vehicle but Scott touched her arm. “Where’s Sam?”
He could tell she was reaching for a cute answer by the way she cocked her eyebrow but something caused her to stop and get suddenly very still and somber.
“I have to ask one thing of you Scott.”
“Anything Dana.” He felt a twinge of concern.
“I need for you to never ask anything about Sam. Anything else is okay, just not Sam. Can you do that for me?”
Scott was bewildered. She had transformed from silly to suddenly sad and serious. ‘Yeah, I can do that,” he rushed to promise.
Dana beamed, shed her solemn face instantly. “He’s not here because he’s been banished. He’s a fucking wicked shot and always wins and Dad’s ego can’t take it.”
Scott looked at her, “Seriously?”
“No, that’s not true. I banned him. He and Dad make sex bets on the side and it’s embarrassing so I said he couldn’t join us.”
“Seriously?” Louder this time.
Dana laughed, “Good lord NO. Get that look of horror off your face. You need to be less gullible.”
Scott didn’t know what to believe at this point. Werewolves were all too real and, seemingly, so were vampires. Dana had weird ass psychic skills and Sam was off limits. And she told him he was gullible. Well, that might be true but mostly he was confounded with a hefty dose of shocked and scared mixed in too.
“Sorry Scott,” Dana’s words snapped him out of his daze. She reached for him, stroked his arm. “We are doing this today to support you. I shouldn’t be joking around. Sorry.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, first on the cheek and then on the lips. “Sam’s just selling some books today or he’d be here. That’s the truth,” then added, “though he is a scary awesome shot.”
John set up a camp table behind the old medical equipment factory. There were trees off to the left and right and an open field in front of them. Scott understood why they used this place. Secure. Out of sight.
Dean was setting up a series of targets in the field. The closest was 25 yards and the other three were set up in further increments.
From the duffle bag, John pulled out sound blocking head phones, gloves and a huge arsenal of guns, all sizes and shapes.
John looked at Dana. “Go help your Dad.”
“He’s fine,” Dana replied.
“Young lady, that wasn’t a request.” John didn’t even look up.
Dana sighed, exaggeratedly, but headed across the field toward Dean.
Scott instantly broke into a sweat. He struggled to keep his breathing steady.
John looked up from fondling an older model Beretta. “One of my first guns. Didn’t eat for a few days to buy it,” he said.
Scott swallowed. Had no idea how to reply to that.
John put down the gun. “Look son. I realize I’m a bit of a scary guy. I’ve lived too long and seen too much. But I’m not too old to remember how it felt when I first learned that evil things were very much real.”
John paused. “I’m sorry son. I am. No one should ever see what you did or do what you had to do. I mean that.”
Scott could tell that forthcoming was not a natural John Winchester trait.
Scott opened his mouth to reply but really didn’t know what to say. He closed his mouth but then, without thinking, blurted out, “I killed him.”
“Yes. You did.” John agreed. “But there’s no reversal for a werewolf infection. No turning it around. I’ve researched it and better people than me have too. Troy was going to be put down that night. You just got there first Scott.”
Scott nodded, stared at the ground.
“You’re a good kid Scott. And brave too. You wouldn’t be near Dana if you weren’t,” he added with a half-grin.
There was silence, just the sound of Dean and Dana off in the field taunting each other. Scott spoke up and admitted, “Every noise makes me freeze in my tracks.”
John pursed his lips. “Yeah. Know that feeling. One of the reasons we’re here today. Overcome some fear, burn off some nerves. See if any of us can take down Ms. Dana.”
Scott shuffled his feet, realized the in-depth feeling exchange had ended. “She’s good, huh?”
“Oh yeah and wants everyone to know it. I personally think she cheats.” John reached for a water bottle.”
“Cheats?” Scott exclaimed. “Not Dana.”
Dean and Dana joined them.
“Everything okay here?” Dana asked, concerned expression on her face.
“Your Papa thinks you cheat.” Scott felt his mood lighten since he was now convinced that John wasn’t there to hurt or intimidate him.
“Papa,” Dana straightened her back and put her hands on her hips, the personification of indignant. “How could you impugn my good name, sir?”
“Can it honey. You’re up first.”
Dana reached out her hand. John slapped the Glock into it.
Scott stared. That gun was too big for him. It was huge. Dana didn’t blink.
Dean put his arm around Scott’s shoulders. “Here’s the rules. You get three shots at each of the four targets each round. They’re set up at 25, 35, 45, 55 yards.”
John put his ear protection on and put binoculars up to his eyes.
Dean continued. “Dana does cheat. Always has.”
“I DO NOT,” Dana turned and Scott realized that Dean had a huge grin on his face.
“And you’re free to dish all the trash talk you want,” Dean finished.
Dana looked at Scott. “Watch this.” She put on her ear coverings and tossed off her sunglasses. Dean and Scott put on their ear protection and turned to watch her.
She took her stance, exuding swagger and ease simultaneously. She fired off her twelve shots in quick succession.
She put down the Glock, pulled off the ear covers and beamed. “Perfection.”
“Not exactly honey,” John put down the binoculars. “You missed the bullseye on two and four by a smidge.”
“NO,” she shouted and grabbed the binoculars to look. “Goddamnit” She kicked the dirt.
And so it went through round one. Dean shot clean. John missed one bullseye on target four. Scott hit the bullseye on target one but none on two, three or four.
They switched guns. John handed Scott a Colt. It was lighter, fit his hand better. Scott shot clean on targets one and two but no bullseyes on three or four.
John patted his back. “Better son. Very nice shooting.”
Off to the side, the chatter was flowing, loud and nasty. “You are down two shots to me Dana, after one round. Seriously, concede now.”
“Concede now, my sweet ass,” she muttered in sheer disgust. “You’re the parent. Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging of your child? Your only child, who is adorable? Not try to beat her ass into the ground? Sam was always more supportive of me.” She tossed her pigtails.
Dean laughed. “Guilt will never work brat and you know it. You never could shoot the Glock. Too heavy for you.”
“And the Colt is too light for you. You never can compensate for it.”
And on and on.
John looked at Scott. “They’re a bit competitive. Been this way since she was twelve or thirteen. It’s better if Sam’s here. Neither one can outshoot him so they keep it down to a low roar.”
Scott smiled. He really wasn’t sure why he ever thought this guy was scary. He was understanding and sort of reasonable even, most certainly compared to Dean and Dana at the moment.
Scott realized that somewhere between his first and second round of shooting that the knot in his gut that had been a permanent resident the last couple of weeks had loosened. Scott drank some soda, smiled.
It was true that horrible, evil things were out there. There was no changing that. But equally true that people, good people, hunted those things and protected people. That warmed him and loosened the knot in his gut a tiny bit more.
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, Scott, John (alas no Aristotle here)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship)
Word Count: 1983
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Written by my friend M, Post-trauma (from Part 16) for Scott. The Winchesters help him cope in a Winchester-y way.
Thursday - 4 p.m.
Dana text to Scott: b free sat at 2 pm
Scott text to Dana: y
Dana text to Scott: shooting range w/ me dad papa
Scott text to Dana: ???!!!
Dana text to Scott: busy now will explain later
Thursday - 8 p.m.
Dana dialed Scott's cell number.
Scott answered before she heard it ring. "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get you for hours." Scott seemed a tad out of control.
"Yeah, I got that from the 35 voice messages. What’s wrong?"
"Wherehaveyoubeen?" His voice was rising
"Gee Scott, relax already. You know I had something to do with Sam after school. Anyway, weren't you busy with the Stanford recruiter? How'd that go?"
"Doesn't matter." He brushed it off. "What is this shooting range thing?"
"They're concerned about you, after - you know. Want to make sure you can handle yourself with a weapon." She paused then added, "It's their way." Truly hoped he'd understand.
"Dana. I am NOT going anywhere where your grandfather is armed."
Dana chortled. "Hate to break it to you sweetie but Papa goes EVERYWHERE armed to the fuckin' teeth. He even has a special shelf in the shower to rest his gun."
"You are so making that up."
"I am so NOT making that up. Papa usually has two guns and two knives on him. He is a very prepared guy," she finished, proudly.
"He's a very scary guy," Scott retorted.
"Relax Scott. They're doing this because they care. We'll talk tomorrow at school. Night." She hung up
Saturday
They ended up picking him up at 1 p.m. Scott shuffled down the path as if he was headed to his boring aunt’s house and crawled into the back seat of the SUV, head hung low, next to Dana. Dean was driving and John was in the passenger seat.
“Hi,” said Scott, to no one in particular.
Dana looked up at him. Her hair was done up in pigtails and she was in combat fatigues and sunglasses. She looked like an uber-cute GI Dana.
She smiled some courage at him and reached for his hand.
They’d argued at school on Friday about this little outing. Scott had told Dana he was a fine shot and didn’t need to go out to some abandoned factory somewhere to prove it. Dana had explained over and over, less patiently each time, that it would be fun. It was clear to Scott that he did not comprehend the Winchester concept of fun. It was equally clear that he had to go.
At the outskirts of town, they stopped at Ricky’s Burger Shack. Dean threw the SUV into park.
“Figured we were headed here. First place you go to eat if Sam isn’t around,” commented John.
“Sam’s a smart guy but he doesn’t understand the value of a good greasy burger and fries.”
John shook his head. “Sam understands the contributing factors of coronary heart disease.”
“Exactly why it’s so damn good.” Both men opened their doors and hopped out.
Dean turned to the kids. “Come on. Burgers are calling.”
“In a sec Dad,” Dana replied. Dean shut the door, leaving them alone.
Dana tightened her grip on Scott’s hand. “Relax. Seriously. You know how to shoot.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” Truth was, since killing Troy, werewolf Troy, Scott had been uptight about everything. He hadn’t slept well and was freaking out at any odd noise.
“But what, Scott?” Dana pulled off her sunglasses and gazed into his eyes.
“Just not sure of anything,” he managed.
“I get that. Dad and Papa want to help. Today will be good. Just trust me a bit, k?” Scott nodded.
Dana went to exit the vehicle but Scott touched her arm. “Where’s Sam?”
He could tell she was reaching for a cute answer by the way she cocked her eyebrow but something caused her to stop and get suddenly very still and somber.
“I have to ask one thing of you Scott.”
“Anything Dana.” He felt a twinge of concern.
“I need for you to never ask anything about Sam. Anything else is okay, just not Sam. Can you do that for me?”
Scott was bewildered. She had transformed from silly to suddenly sad and serious. ‘Yeah, I can do that,” he rushed to promise.
Dana beamed, shed her solemn face instantly. “He’s not here because he’s been banished. He’s a fucking wicked shot and always wins and Dad’s ego can’t take it.”
Scott looked at her, “Seriously?”
“No, that’s not true. I banned him. He and Dad make sex bets on the side and it’s embarrassing so I said he couldn’t join us.”
“Seriously?” Louder this time.
Dana laughed, “Good lord NO. Get that look of horror off your face. You need to be less gullible.”
Scott didn’t know what to believe at this point. Werewolves were all too real and, seemingly, so were vampires. Dana had weird ass psychic skills and Sam was off limits. And she told him he was gullible. Well, that might be true but mostly he was confounded with a hefty dose of shocked and scared mixed in too.
“Sorry Scott,” Dana’s words snapped him out of his daze. She reached for him, stroked his arm. “We are doing this today to support you. I shouldn’t be joking around. Sorry.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, first on the cheek and then on the lips. “Sam’s just selling some books today or he’d be here. That’s the truth,” then added, “though he is a scary awesome shot.”
John set up a camp table behind the old medical equipment factory. There were trees off to the left and right and an open field in front of them. Scott understood why they used this place. Secure. Out of sight.
Dean was setting up a series of targets in the field. The closest was 25 yards and the other three were set up in further increments.
From the duffle bag, John pulled out sound blocking head phones, gloves and a huge arsenal of guns, all sizes and shapes.
John looked at Dana. “Go help your Dad.”
“He’s fine,” Dana replied.
“Young lady, that wasn’t a request.” John didn’t even look up.
Dana sighed, exaggeratedly, but headed across the field toward Dean.
Scott instantly broke into a sweat. He struggled to keep his breathing steady.
John looked up from fondling an older model Beretta. “One of my first guns. Didn’t eat for a few days to buy it,” he said.
Scott swallowed. Had no idea how to reply to that.
John put down the gun. “Look son. I realize I’m a bit of a scary guy. I’ve lived too long and seen too much. But I’m not too old to remember how it felt when I first learned that evil things were very much real.”
John paused. “I’m sorry son. I am. No one should ever see what you did or do what you had to do. I mean that.”
Scott could tell that forthcoming was not a natural John Winchester trait.
Scott opened his mouth to reply but really didn’t know what to say. He closed his mouth but then, without thinking, blurted out, “I killed him.”
“Yes. You did.” John agreed. “But there’s no reversal for a werewolf infection. No turning it around. I’ve researched it and better people than me have too. Troy was going to be put down that night. You just got there first Scott.”
Scott nodded, stared at the ground.
“You’re a good kid Scott. And brave too. You wouldn’t be near Dana if you weren’t,” he added with a half-grin.
There was silence, just the sound of Dean and Dana off in the field taunting each other. Scott spoke up and admitted, “Every noise makes me freeze in my tracks.”
John pursed his lips. “Yeah. Know that feeling. One of the reasons we’re here today. Overcome some fear, burn off some nerves. See if any of us can take down Ms. Dana.”
Scott shuffled his feet, realized the in-depth feeling exchange had ended. “She’s good, huh?”
“Oh yeah and wants everyone to know it. I personally think she cheats.” John reached for a water bottle.”
“Cheats?” Scott exclaimed. “Not Dana.”
Dean and Dana joined them.
“Everything okay here?” Dana asked, concerned expression on her face.
“Your Papa thinks you cheat.” Scott felt his mood lighten since he was now convinced that John wasn’t there to hurt or intimidate him.
“Papa,” Dana straightened her back and put her hands on her hips, the personification of indignant. “How could you impugn my good name, sir?”
“Can it honey. You’re up first.”
Dana reached out her hand. John slapped the Glock into it.
Scott stared. That gun was too big for him. It was huge. Dana didn’t blink.
Dean put his arm around Scott’s shoulders. “Here’s the rules. You get three shots at each of the four targets each round. They’re set up at 25, 35, 45, 55 yards.”
John put his ear protection on and put binoculars up to his eyes.
Dean continued. “Dana does cheat. Always has.”
“I DO NOT,” Dana turned and Scott realized that Dean had a huge grin on his face.
“And you’re free to dish all the trash talk you want,” Dean finished.
Dana looked at Scott. “Watch this.” She put on her ear coverings and tossed off her sunglasses. Dean and Scott put on their ear protection and turned to watch her.
She took her stance, exuding swagger and ease simultaneously. She fired off her twelve shots in quick succession.
She put down the Glock, pulled off the ear covers and beamed. “Perfection.”
“Not exactly honey,” John put down the binoculars. “You missed the bullseye on two and four by a smidge.”
“NO,” she shouted and grabbed the binoculars to look. “Goddamnit” She kicked the dirt.
And so it went through round one. Dean shot clean. John missed one bullseye on target four. Scott hit the bullseye on target one but none on two, three or four.
They switched guns. John handed Scott a Colt. It was lighter, fit his hand better. Scott shot clean on targets one and two but no bullseyes on three or four.
John patted his back. “Better son. Very nice shooting.”
Off to the side, the chatter was flowing, loud and nasty. “You are down two shots to me Dana, after one round. Seriously, concede now.”
“Concede now, my sweet ass,” she muttered in sheer disgust. “You’re the parent. Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging of your child? Your only child, who is adorable? Not try to beat her ass into the ground? Sam was always more supportive of me.” She tossed her pigtails.
Dean laughed. “Guilt will never work brat and you know it. You never could shoot the Glock. Too heavy for you.”
“And the Colt is too light for you. You never can compensate for it.”
And on and on.
John looked at Scott. “They’re a bit competitive. Been this way since she was twelve or thirteen. It’s better if Sam’s here. Neither one can outshoot him so they keep it down to a low roar.”
Scott smiled. He really wasn’t sure why he ever thought this guy was scary. He was understanding and sort of reasonable even, most certainly compared to Dean and Dana at the moment.
Scott realized that somewhere between his first and second round of shooting that the knot in his gut that had been a permanent resident the last couple of weeks had loosened. Scott drank some soda, smiled.
It was true that horrible, evil things were out there. There was no changing that. But equally true that people, good people, hunted those things and protected people. That warmed him and loosened the knot in his gut a tiny bit more.