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[weary_head]

It's been over two months since the school term ended, and Dean still feels like he's cheating sometimes, spending his afternoon sprawled out somewhere being useless instead of hitting the books. Half the time he settles for hitting Caliban instead, who always does more than his share of hitting back, god bless him, but today Dean's chosen to

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[dichotomos]

Jesus Christ, this guy. When I walked into the rec room and took in the scene, for a handful of seconds I actually understood the way Niko had to feel every time he'd ever walked in on me doing anything over the entirety of my whole fucking life.

The feeling passed quickly, though, and was immediately replaced with envy. My gaze jumped from the burger to the tits and back again.

"Raising her on the classics, I see," I said, mostly to distract myself from the fact that I wanted to snatch that burger out of Dean's hand.

[weary_head]

Dean doesn't have to meet Caliban's covetous gaze to curl protectively over his burger. There's just something about sparring - tends to make a man crave red meat, and this bit of meat is too spectacular for sharing.

"Only thing the shelf'd give me," says Dean around a pointedly large bite. "Well, that and a '72 issue of Rolling Stone. Man's gotta hold something sacred."

[dichotomos]

I really didn't give much of a shit about music, but even I had to concede that much to Dean. "She can give them clothes," I suggested, although seemed its own brand of wrong.

After a moment more of staring at the burger, I headed into the kitchen and returned a moment later with three cupcakes. One I placed on the kid's highchair, the other two I kept for myself.

What? He had a whole fucking burger; if he wanted a cupcake, he could go get one himself.

[weary_head]

Dean spares the cupcake an envious glance, but he's more concerned with the sugar high his sister is about to embark on. It's too late to do anything about it, though, half the thing's gone by the time he even registers its presence, and Dean tips a glare at Caliban over his burger.

"Should make you watch her for the next hour."

[dichotomos]

"Baby's first knife-throwing lesson," I replied with a sly smile over the top of my half-eaten cupcake. "I'm sure she'll be a natural. I was at that age."

In truth, I'd still been mostly oblivious at that age, but it wasn't long after that sinister faces had begun to peer in my windows. The earlier trained the better, I say.

[weary_head]

"Given her genetics," Dean murmurs, even if he wants anything but for the kid. He wants her to grow up knowing how to defend herself, but needing to know it? No way, and the only way he can protect her from that is being around to protect her himself.

Dean sighs, finishing off the last of his burger with a grunt. He wants a beer to chase it, and a shot of whiskey to chase that. "You up for round two later?"

[dichotomos]

"Always," I replied around the last bite of cake, and then proceeded to brush the crumbs from my shirt, heedless of the mess I made of the floor. "The question is, are you?" I added as my smile grew a bit more dangerous. "Will you cry if you get more bruises, Princess?"

[weary_head]

Dean arches a brow, pleased that in this at least, he can return posture for posture. Although...some days he's not sure that Cal is posturing. He might actually just be that terrifying.

"You ever known me to cry, cupcake?" he asks sweetly. "Seriously, man, if you're still pulling punches." He licks a smear of bacon grease from his thumb. "Do not."

[dichotomos]

"You'd be dead if I didn't." Don't get me wrong, here. Dean was a hell of a fighter. What he lacked in style he more than made up for in sheer aggressiveness, and the guy just kept on coming. But he wasn't Niko, and I actually liked Dean, so I kind of wanted to keep him alive.

"And then I'd have to find someone else to beat on, and it would be a big fucking hassle," I added with a shrug.