Snippet.
Well, it ain't much, but I wroted, and that's what counts. embroiderama and reading1066 both asked for heat-related things, and since this is wee-chester I KNOW this isn't what they had in mind, but hopefully I'll do something a little closer next.
By 9:30 it was already 90 degrees. John checked the AC one more time, teeth clenched. Reconditioned air conditioner MY ASS, he thought, what a piece of junk, and thumped his fist against the control panel once, not that it would do any good. Wasn't the machine's fault, anyway. Evaporative was no good in this weather: too humid to cool, just made things stickier. Whole house felt wet, like they were on a Louisiana bayou instead of flat Kansas prairie.
At least Mary and the baby had real air conditioning in the hospital. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist and smiled. Baby Sammy. Kid barely even yelled after he popped, just waved his hands and feet and stared at all of them, like they were the weirdest things he'd ever seen.
Pretty much were, come to think of it.
"Hey, Dean?" He walked back into the living room, glanced into the kitchen. "Deano."
Kid had woken him up, wanting breakfast and company, and John remembered getting out cereal and milk while he talked to Mary on the phone, but that was a while ago. The kitchen was empty, bowl of milk still on the table with a couple of Cheerios bobbing forgotten in the middle.
He finally found him sitting on the porch steps, two of his soldiers dangling forgotten in his hands.
"Hey, buddy," John said, lowering himself down onto the step next to him. Dean had put his shirt on backwards, he saw, and he smiled a little. "Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing." Dean stared at the toys in his lap, shoulders slumped.
"Y'okay there? Ready to go see Mom and Sammy?"
"I guess."
It was said with all the anticipation he might have for a trip to get vaccinations, and John leaned over, nudged the top of Dean's cornsilk head with his chin. "You guess?"
"Uh huh."
"You don't sound real enthusiastic there, buddy. You okay?"
"S'hot."
"Well, yeah. Be summer soon."
"You're not gonna play with me this summer."
John held very still. "I'm not? How come?"
"'Cuz."
"'Cause of what?"
Dean shrugged, a limp shiver of shoulders. "'Cuz."
Dean's hair smelled like sunshine and grubby little boy. Didn't get a bath last night, John had been bone-tired. "'Cause of the baby?"
Dean nodded slowly.
"Now why would you think that, honey? Huh?"
Dean drew a shaky breath and blurted, "'Cuz all you wanna see is the BABY, and Mommy too, and -- I hate him! Don't want him no more!"
John drew back, honestly shocked. "Dean," he said, reaching out, but the boy slithered out of his grasp, scooted over to the far side of the step. "Deano, what's all this?" He slid over a little, and felt a sliver of wood bite through his jeans and kiss his right butt cheek. "You don't hate your brother. I know you don't."
"Messed it all up," Dean muttered, and smashed the two soldiers against each other by way of illustration. "Messed up everything."
John sat floundering for a second -- hadn't Mary promised she'd talked to Dean about all this? child psychology wasn't exactly John's thing -- and finally managed, "I think Sammy'll make things even better."
"Nuh-uh."
"Remember you're a big brother now, buddy. Sammy needs you."
"No he doesn't. Got you."
"Well, he has us, too. But there's nothing like a big brother. Believe me. I've got two, remember?"
Dean said something so quiet, John didn't catch it.
"What? What'd you say, Dean?"
Dean gave him a look so filled with four-year-old tragedy, John didn't know whether to laugh or weep. "Wish I had a big brother," he said through wobbly lips.
"Aw, dude." Ignoring the wiggles, John grabbed him, hauling him into his lap. The soldiers clattered to the ground, one bouncing end-over-end to wind up head-first in the grass.
"I know you don't want things to change," he said against Dean's ear, arms wrapped around Dean's stomach. "But it's a good change, buddy, I promise. Just think of it like a really good cake, and Sammy's the frosting on top. Cake's good, right? Hmm?"
He gave Dean a little jiggle, and heard a reluctant whispered, "Yeah."
"And frosting? Is frosting good?"
A pause. "What kinda frosting?"
John smiled. "Chocolate, man. What did you think?"
"Kay."
"Sammy being here doesn't mean we won't play like we always do. Little baseball, maybe? You got that new mitt, needs to be broken in."
"Yeah." A little more enthusiasm now. "And the football."
"Absolutely. Hey -- when Sammy's old enough, you're gonna be an old hand, show him how it's done, right?"
Dean nodded.
"But that won't be for a while. Meantime, it's you and me, buddy. Right?"
Dean nodded again, firmer this time.
"Okay. Now." He turned Dean so that he sat crosswise on his lap, and gave him a sober look. "We need a plan for today. You think?"
Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. "Kay."
"We'll go see Mommy and Sammy later. Your mom's tired, and I thought we'd stick around here this morning. Just us guys, hanging out. How's that sound?"
"Good." The hint of a sparkle lit up Dean's wide eyes.
"But here's the thing. It's hot, man. It's no good inside."
Dean watched him, entranced. "All sticky."
"Exactly! So what I'm thinking...."
Dean giggled. "What, Daddy?"
John made a show of it, narrowing his eyes and looking around. "I think..."
"Daddy, what?"
"It's SPRINKLER TIME."
Dean's eyes got bigger. "Already?"
"Oh yeah," John said, grinning. "Come on, let's go get our suits."
Dean was already thumping up the steps. "I know where mine is! I know, I know!" Disappearing into the house, screen door slapping shut behind him.
John stood slowly, laughing a little. Jesus, it was hot. A sprinkler sounded like just the thing.
END
By 9:30 it was already 90 degrees. John checked the AC one more time, teeth clenched. Reconditioned air conditioner MY ASS, he thought, what a piece of junk, and thumped his fist against the control panel once, not that it would do any good. Wasn't the machine's fault, anyway. Evaporative was no good in this weather: too humid to cool, just made things stickier. Whole house felt wet, like they were on a Louisiana bayou instead of flat Kansas prairie.
At least Mary and the baby had real air conditioning in the hospital. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist and smiled. Baby Sammy. Kid barely even yelled after he popped, just waved his hands and feet and stared at all of them, like they were the weirdest things he'd ever seen.
Pretty much were, come to think of it.
"Hey, Dean?" He walked back into the living room, glanced into the kitchen. "Deano."
Kid had woken him up, wanting breakfast and company, and John remembered getting out cereal and milk while he talked to Mary on the phone, but that was a while ago. The kitchen was empty, bowl of milk still on the table with a couple of Cheerios bobbing forgotten in the middle.
He finally found him sitting on the porch steps, two of his soldiers dangling forgotten in his hands.
"Hey, buddy," John said, lowering himself down onto the step next to him. Dean had put his shirt on backwards, he saw, and he smiled a little. "Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing." Dean stared at the toys in his lap, shoulders slumped.
"Y'okay there? Ready to go see Mom and Sammy?"
"I guess."
It was said with all the anticipation he might have for a trip to get vaccinations, and John leaned over, nudged the top of Dean's cornsilk head with his chin. "You guess?"
"Uh huh."
"You don't sound real enthusiastic there, buddy. You okay?"
"S'hot."
"Well, yeah. Be summer soon."
"You're not gonna play with me this summer."
John held very still. "I'm not? How come?"
"'Cuz."
"'Cause of what?"
Dean shrugged, a limp shiver of shoulders. "'Cuz."
Dean's hair smelled like sunshine and grubby little boy. Didn't get a bath last night, John had been bone-tired. "'Cause of the baby?"
Dean nodded slowly.
"Now why would you think that, honey? Huh?"
Dean drew a shaky breath and blurted, "'Cuz all you wanna see is the BABY, and Mommy too, and -- I hate him! Don't want him no more!"
John drew back, honestly shocked. "Dean," he said, reaching out, but the boy slithered out of his grasp, scooted over to the far side of the step. "Deano, what's all this?" He slid over a little, and felt a sliver of wood bite through his jeans and kiss his right butt cheek. "You don't hate your brother. I know you don't."
"Messed it all up," Dean muttered, and smashed the two soldiers against each other by way of illustration. "Messed up everything."
John sat floundering for a second -- hadn't Mary promised she'd talked to Dean about all this? child psychology wasn't exactly John's thing -- and finally managed, "I think Sammy'll make things even better."
"Nuh-uh."
"Remember you're a big brother now, buddy. Sammy needs you."
"No he doesn't. Got you."
"Well, he has us, too. But there's nothing like a big brother. Believe me. I've got two, remember?"
Dean said something so quiet, John didn't catch it.
"What? What'd you say, Dean?"
Dean gave him a look so filled with four-year-old tragedy, John didn't know whether to laugh or weep. "Wish I had a big brother," he said through wobbly lips.
"Aw, dude." Ignoring the wiggles, John grabbed him, hauling him into his lap. The soldiers clattered to the ground, one bouncing end-over-end to wind up head-first in the grass.
"I know you don't want things to change," he said against Dean's ear, arms wrapped around Dean's stomach. "But it's a good change, buddy, I promise. Just think of it like a really good cake, and Sammy's the frosting on top. Cake's good, right? Hmm?"
He gave Dean a little jiggle, and heard a reluctant whispered, "Yeah."
"And frosting? Is frosting good?"
A pause. "What kinda frosting?"
John smiled. "Chocolate, man. What did you think?"
"Kay."
"Sammy being here doesn't mean we won't play like we always do. Little baseball, maybe? You got that new mitt, needs to be broken in."
"Yeah." A little more enthusiasm now. "And the football."
"Absolutely. Hey -- when Sammy's old enough, you're gonna be an old hand, show him how it's done, right?"
Dean nodded.
"But that won't be for a while. Meantime, it's you and me, buddy. Right?"
Dean nodded again, firmer this time.
"Okay. Now." He turned Dean so that he sat crosswise on his lap, and gave him a sober look. "We need a plan for today. You think?"
Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. "Kay."
"We'll go see Mommy and Sammy later. Your mom's tired, and I thought we'd stick around here this morning. Just us guys, hanging out. How's that sound?"
"Good." The hint of a sparkle lit up Dean's wide eyes.
"But here's the thing. It's hot, man. It's no good inside."
Dean watched him, entranced. "All sticky."
"Exactly! So what I'm thinking...."
Dean giggled. "What, Daddy?"
John made a show of it, narrowing his eyes and looking around. "I think..."
"Daddy, what?"
"It's SPRINKLER TIME."
Dean's eyes got bigger. "Already?"
"Oh yeah," John said, grinning. "Come on, let's go get our suits."
Dean was already thumping up the steps. "I know where mine is! I know, I know!" Disappearing into the house, screen door slapping shut behind him.
John stood slowly, laughing a little. Jesus, it was hot. A sprinkler sounded like just the thing.
END