Feathers of Brown
Title:Feathers of Brown
Rating:PG
Prompt: Head Trauma
Warnings: Child abuse
Word Count 681
Summary::Holidays are strange things - some are good, some are bad. Important dates that matter to some and are unimportant to others. Dean's sure Daddy hadn't meant to hurt him. It's his fifth birthday - Daddy wouldn't hurt him on his birthday. (January 24, 1984) Deaf!Dean Verse
It had to have been an accident. That's all Dean could think. It was an accident and it wouldn't happen again. He marshaled his tears the best he could, his cheeks still stinging. Daddy hadn't meant to slap him. Daddy had been drinking that foul smelling stuff again. It didn't make any sense to him why daddy drank that stuff, when it made him grumpy.
Daddy had promised Mommy that he would never hurt him again. Dean remembered - he'd seen Daddy promise and he always kept promises he made to Mommy.
So it was an accident.
Taking a deep breath, Dean rested his chin on his knees, feeling somewhat safe in his corner - even though it smelled bad. This whole room smelled bad. Not of Daddy's foul drink or Sammy's diapers, but of something... something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't the salt either - keeping Sammy after the thick lines of salt Daddy made was hard. Sammy was working on crawling and it wouldn't be long before he was in to everything. The smell was... it smelled like a dirty pile of wet rags that had been left in the garage for too long.
It was a yucky, nasty smell and how could Daddy not notice it?
His cheeks still stung, but at least it was easier not to cry now. Daddy hadn't meant to do it. Tomorrow, Daddy would apologize, the way he had back when he came back home. It was an accident, that's all. Daddy wouldn't hit him on purpose, especially not on his birthday.
Dean was now five years old. After this year, he'd have to use two hands to show his age. By the time he was ten, he'd be far beyond that. He'd just tell people then. Five years old - he should go back to school soon.
He shifted in place on the floor, so his arms could rest on his knees, chin on arms. Daddy was writing away and he could see over in the crib, Sammy was sleeping. He couldn't think what he did that might have made Daddy have the accident.
Oh yes... he told Daddy it was his birthday.
It was sort of like at Christmas, when Daddy told him there was no Santa Claus.
Dean wished Mommy would come back. Mommy would set Daddy straight again. But Mommy wasn't coming back. Mommy had been on fire - she'd been on the ceiling and oh, that fire smelled so horrible and wrong...
He hugged himself tighter. He really, really wanted Mommy.
The world suddenly went upside down and Dean found himself being carried from his corner by his daddy and set down in the crib next to Sammy. This wasn't punishment, it was so he could keep tabs on Sammy - so if his brother woke up in the night, he would know about it. Daddy could sleep through any of Sammy's wailings as if he were as deaf as Dean was.
Daddy wasn't mad - it was an accident and tomorrow everything would be all right.
Dean offered his father a very brave smile - no way was he going to get a good night kiss, Daddy never gave those - but a little something? It was his birthday, after all...
Daddy gave his almost non-existent hair a faint ruffle. Daddy had cut it really short a few days ago, for some reason. It would grow back. Mommy liked his hair long and floppy - she told him it made him look like a puppy.
Dean obediently laid down on the mattress - and his smile was a little stronger when Daddy put the blanket over him and Sammy to keep them warm. See, Daddy wasn't that angry - it was an accident.
Daddy slapping him had been an accident and it would never happen again. Tomorrow, Daddy would let him have pancakes for breakfast and they'd leave this smelly room and find a new place to live. Mommy might not be there, but it wouldn't smell. Everything would start to get better.
First thing tomorrow.
Rating:PG
Prompt: Head Trauma
Warnings: Child abuse
Word Count 681
Summary::Holidays are strange things - some are good, some are bad. Important dates that matter to some and are unimportant to others. Dean's sure Daddy hadn't meant to hurt him. It's his fifth birthday - Daddy wouldn't hurt him on his birthday. (January 24, 1984) Deaf!Dean Verse
It had to have been an accident. That's all Dean could think. It was an accident and it wouldn't happen again. He marshaled his tears the best he could, his cheeks still stinging. Daddy hadn't meant to slap him. Daddy had been drinking that foul smelling stuff again. It didn't make any sense to him why daddy drank that stuff, when it made him grumpy.
Daddy had promised Mommy that he would never hurt him again. Dean remembered - he'd seen Daddy promise and he always kept promises he made to Mommy.
So it was an accident.
Taking a deep breath, Dean rested his chin on his knees, feeling somewhat safe in his corner - even though it smelled bad. This whole room smelled bad. Not of Daddy's foul drink or Sammy's diapers, but of something... something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't the salt either - keeping Sammy after the thick lines of salt Daddy made was hard. Sammy was working on crawling and it wouldn't be long before he was in to everything. The smell was... it smelled like a dirty pile of wet rags that had been left in the garage for too long.
It was a yucky, nasty smell and how could Daddy not notice it?
His cheeks still stung, but at least it was easier not to cry now. Daddy hadn't meant to do it. Tomorrow, Daddy would apologize, the way he had back when he came back home. It was an accident, that's all. Daddy wouldn't hit him on purpose, especially not on his birthday.
Dean was now five years old. After this year, he'd have to use two hands to show his age. By the time he was ten, he'd be far beyond that. He'd just tell people then. Five years old - he should go back to school soon.
He shifted in place on the floor, so his arms could rest on his knees, chin on arms. Daddy was writing away and he could see over in the crib, Sammy was sleeping. He couldn't think what he did that might have made Daddy have the accident.
Oh yes... he told Daddy it was his birthday.
It was sort of like at Christmas, when Daddy told him there was no Santa Claus.
Dean wished Mommy would come back. Mommy would set Daddy straight again. But Mommy wasn't coming back. Mommy had been on fire - she'd been on the ceiling and oh, that fire smelled so horrible and wrong...
He hugged himself tighter. He really, really wanted Mommy.
The world suddenly went upside down and Dean found himself being carried from his corner by his daddy and set down in the crib next to Sammy. This wasn't punishment, it was so he could keep tabs on Sammy - so if his brother woke up in the night, he would know about it. Daddy could sleep through any of Sammy's wailings as if he were as deaf as Dean was.
Daddy wasn't mad - it was an accident and tomorrow everything would be all right.
Dean offered his father a very brave smile - no way was he going to get a good night kiss, Daddy never gave those - but a little something? It was his birthday, after all...
Daddy gave his almost non-existent hair a faint ruffle. Daddy had cut it really short a few days ago, for some reason. It would grow back. Mommy liked his hair long and floppy - she told him it made him look like a puppy.
Dean obediently laid down on the mattress - and his smile was a little stronger when Daddy put the blanket over him and Sammy to keep them warm. See, Daddy wasn't that angry - it was an accident.
Daddy slapping him had been an accident and it would never happen again. Tomorrow, Daddy would let him have pancakes for breakfast and they'd leave this smelly room and find a new place to live. Mommy might not be there, but it wouldn't smell. Everything would start to get better.
First thing tomorrow.