In which Dean breaks some news.
Dean was making breakfast.
It was a lazy Saturday in the Winchester house, and Dean, who usually wasn’t up before Mary was getting ready to make lunch, was standing over the stove making pancakes. It was one of the few things he could cook, and while he knew that his mother would know he was up to something, he wanted everybody shiny and happy before he dropped his little bomb. And really, it only was a little one.
Sam wasn’t home-he had crashed at a friend’s house after going to a late movie the night before, and he wanted to tell Sam on his own anyway. This whole set up was mostly for his parents benefit. Mostly? He was hoping that good food would make them a bit more amendable to his current proposition. He was flipping the first batch of pancakes when his mother’s voice came over his shoulder, and he could tell by her tone that she was expecting the worst.
“Alright. What law did you break?”
He glanced back at her and flashed her a lazy grin. “Can’t a son get up early on a Saturday and make his parents pancakes?”
“Not this son,” she replied, moving closer and placing one hand on his shoulder gently, while the other leaned over to look at the pancakes he was making. “What’s going on, Dean?”
He leaned into his mother’s touch a bit before turning back to look at her. “Let’s wait till Dad gets up. I don’t want to have to explain it twice.”
Mary was quiet for a moment, before nodding, and starting to move towards the cabinet again, pulling her jar of peanut butter off the shelf, and then grabbing the syrup. “I’ll set the table.”
About a half hour later, the three Winchesters who were home were sitting down to Dean’s home cooked meal, and both parents were looking at their eldest son expectantly, wondering what exactly this news was that he had to tell him. Dean seemed very intent on finishing his pancakes as quickly as possible. It wasn’t a matter of not knowing what to say, it was a matter of working up the nerve. Because he knew that they in all likelihood, weren’t going to like what he had to say.
“Not that I mind, son,” John finally spoke up after a moment, before taking a long sip of his coffee. “But you gonna tell us what all this is about?”
Dean paused for a moment in the inhaling of his pancakes, and then looking up at his parents. “I-I’m not gonna apply to college.”
And after that was dead silence, aside from a bit of a clatter as Mary dropped her fork. “You’re not.” Dean shook his head, and Mary turned her head back from him for a moment, thinking this over, while John was starting to sound a little pissed at Dean’s decision. As Dean had expected.
“So you just decide you’re not goin’ to college. What exactly is it that you’re going to do while you’re not goin’ to college?”
Dean was quiet for a moment, glancing between them, before taking a breath and explaining. “I got this job.” A beat. “In Indiana.”
Mary’s head snapped around again, eyes wide. “You got a job where?”
And then it all came spilling out in one long ramble that he couldn’t stop. About how the job was good money and a great opportunity. How Cicero was only nine hours away, and he would be home as often as they needed him. That he already had a place to live, people to live with, and people he knew in the area. That he could do this, all on his own. He was eighteen now. It was about time he started making some decisions for himself. And he knew in his heart that college wasn’t the right one, and this job? This job was it.
They both listened as he talked, and when it was over, and he could see the tension starting to drift away as he went. “You really thought this out, huh?” John sighed softly, rubbing his chin lightly with his hand.
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I did.”
John nodded a bit, before looking over at Mary, handing her the floor. She looked back at John for a moment, before turning back to her oldest son. “I want you home every holiday, no matter how small. Fourth of July, Martin Luther King, I don’t care. You have a long weekend, I want you home.”
“Fair enough,” Dean said with a bit of a grin. He should have figured that his mom would want something like that. She’d always been big on the holidays. Mary reached over and squeezed his hand lightly, before looking at him seriously.
“What are you going to tell Sam?”
At that Dean got quiet again. He knew how much Sam liked having him around, and that this was probably going to be harder on Sam than it was on him. But this was something that he knew he had to do. He finished what was left on his plate before starting to clear his place. “After I’m finished cleaning up, I’ll go pick him up.”
Mary got up after he did, taking the plates from him. “You cooked, I’ll clean. Just go talk to your brother.”
“Okay,” Dean nodded, before leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly. “Thanks.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Dean pulled up in front of Sam's friends house and made his way to the front door. He knocked, made polite small talk with the parents for a moment, and waited for his brother to get here, all the while silently hoping that Sam wasn't going to take this the way he thought he was. It would be hard, but they would get through it. He knew they would.
This was his little brother after all.
It was a lazy Saturday in the Winchester house, and Dean, who usually wasn’t up before Mary was getting ready to make lunch, was standing over the stove making pancakes. It was one of the few things he could cook, and while he knew that his mother would know he was up to something, he wanted everybody shiny and happy before he dropped his little bomb. And really, it only was a little one.
Sam wasn’t home-he had crashed at a friend’s house after going to a late movie the night before, and he wanted to tell Sam on his own anyway. This whole set up was mostly for his parents benefit. Mostly? He was hoping that good food would make them a bit more amendable to his current proposition. He was flipping the first batch of pancakes when his mother’s voice came over his shoulder, and he could tell by her tone that she was expecting the worst.
“Alright. What law did you break?”
He glanced back at her and flashed her a lazy grin. “Can’t a son get up early on a Saturday and make his parents pancakes?”
“Not this son,” she replied, moving closer and placing one hand on his shoulder gently, while the other leaned over to look at the pancakes he was making. “What’s going on, Dean?”
He leaned into his mother’s touch a bit before turning back to look at her. “Let’s wait till Dad gets up. I don’t want to have to explain it twice.”
Mary was quiet for a moment, before nodding, and starting to move towards the cabinet again, pulling her jar of peanut butter off the shelf, and then grabbing the syrup. “I’ll set the table.”
About a half hour later, the three Winchesters who were home were sitting down to Dean’s home cooked meal, and both parents were looking at their eldest son expectantly, wondering what exactly this news was that he had to tell him. Dean seemed very intent on finishing his pancakes as quickly as possible. It wasn’t a matter of not knowing what to say, it was a matter of working up the nerve. Because he knew that they in all likelihood, weren’t going to like what he had to say.
“Not that I mind, son,” John finally spoke up after a moment, before taking a long sip of his coffee. “But you gonna tell us what all this is about?”
Dean paused for a moment in the inhaling of his pancakes, and then looking up at his parents. “I-I’m not gonna apply to college.”
And after that was dead silence, aside from a bit of a clatter as Mary dropped her fork. “You’re not.” Dean shook his head, and Mary turned her head back from him for a moment, thinking this over, while John was starting to sound a little pissed at Dean’s decision. As Dean had expected.
“So you just decide you’re not goin’ to college. What exactly is it that you’re going to do while you’re not goin’ to college?”
Dean was quiet for a moment, glancing between them, before taking a breath and explaining. “I got this job.” A beat. “In Indiana.”
Mary’s head snapped around again, eyes wide. “You got a job where?”
And then it all came spilling out in one long ramble that he couldn’t stop. About how the job was good money and a great opportunity. How Cicero was only nine hours away, and he would be home as often as they needed him. That he already had a place to live, people to live with, and people he knew in the area. That he could do this, all on his own. He was eighteen now. It was about time he started making some decisions for himself. And he knew in his heart that college wasn’t the right one, and this job? This job was it.
They both listened as he talked, and when it was over, and he could see the tension starting to drift away as he went. “You really thought this out, huh?” John sighed softly, rubbing his chin lightly with his hand.
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I did.”
John nodded a bit, before looking over at Mary, handing her the floor. She looked back at John for a moment, before turning back to her oldest son. “I want you home every holiday, no matter how small. Fourth of July, Martin Luther King, I don’t care. You have a long weekend, I want you home.”
“Fair enough,” Dean said with a bit of a grin. He should have figured that his mom would want something like that. She’d always been big on the holidays. Mary reached over and squeezed his hand lightly, before looking at him seriously.
“What are you going to tell Sam?”
At that Dean got quiet again. He knew how much Sam liked having him around, and that this was probably going to be harder on Sam than it was on him. But this was something that he knew he had to do. He finished what was left on his plate before starting to clear his place. “After I’m finished cleaning up, I’ll go pick him up.”
Mary got up after he did, taking the plates from him. “You cooked, I’ll clean. Just go talk to your brother.”
“Okay,” Dean nodded, before leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly. “Thanks.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Dean pulled up in front of Sam's friends house and made his way to the front door. He knocked, made polite small talk with the parents for a moment, and waited for his brother to get here, all the while silently hoping that Sam wasn't going to take this the way he thought he was. It would be hard, but they would get through it. He knew they would.
This was his little brother after all.