Joey Verse Timestamp: I Feel Like Chicken Tonight
Title: I Feel Like Chicken Tonight
Author: jcrgirl
Verse: Children of Destiny (formerly Joey Verse)
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Beta: None
Banner: sam_dean_hot and matchboximpala
Word Count: ~1350
Warnings: Overall: AU, Kid!fic, Established Relationship
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing with the pretty, pretty people.
Summary: Angus is taking exception to the neighbor's chickens.
Author's Note: Set in the Joey Verse world. I'm not sure if anyone even cares about this Verse anymore, but this actually happened while I was recently living with my mother (a time I'm desperately trying to repress) and since Angus was modeled after her dog, I decided it was fitting. Also, I not-so-recently asked for a new banner for this Verse since the addition of JD in Babes in Toyland. sam_dean_hot and matchboximpala took up the task and look at the beautiful banners they gave me. Aren't they awesome! In the future I'll alternate them, but I wanted to show off their awesome work! This Verse now has a new name as well - The Children of Destiny cuz Joey can't have all the credit. Anyhow, small one shot set before Horrors of the Shade. It's not great, but it's...something.
“Hello?” Sam answers his cell phone, voice echoing loudly in his empty classroom. Outside, the sound of juvenile joy for the end of another school day is gradually fading as students make their way to the waiting buses and cars. Somewhere among them, Joey is saying good-bye to his friends before making his way here to meet his father.
“Hey, Sammy. Why did the chicken cross the fence?” Dean dumped the plastic resealable bag in the garbage can and closed the lid tightly, grimacing.
“Uh,” Sam is taken aback by the question, brows drawn in confusion. He marks a large red ‘B’ on Kelsey Hendricks quiz and decides to play along. “I don’t know, Dean. Why did the chicken cross the fence?”
“Thanks to Angus, the world may never know.” Dean glares at the black Labrador as he rinses his hands under the cool water from the outside spigot. For his part, Angus cowers under the stare, laying down with his head on his paws and looking at Dean with regretful eyes. “Sorry about your luck, pup, but there are only three people that works for and you ain’t one of them.”
Sam blows out a breath and leans back in his chair, fingers coming up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. The swivel chair is a relic of decades gone by and the springs protest like a rheumatic old man with the change in position. “Again?”
Shaking his dripping hands, Dean surveys the feathers blowing across the yard in the late spring breeze. He rolls his eyes and swipes away the dampness on his shorts before making his way to the back yard. “Yep, third one this month. I have no idea how they keep getting through the fence but Angus is determined they don’t stay in the yard long.”
“Was it a big mess?” Sam scrunches up his face at the memory of the last chicken they’d found, partially mauled and parts unrecognizable.
“Not as bad as the last time,” Dean answers, similar thoughts as his brother. “All I found was feathers and feet. I have no idea what happened to the rest.”
“This is getting out of hand,” Sam leans forward in his chair and glances at the clock on the wall. Joey should be there any minute. He shuffles the quizzes around on his desk, gathering them into a pile to finish at home later.
“Tell me about it.” Dean crosses to the sandbox, smiling at JD sitting in the middle. The young boy is oblivious of the poultricide that occurred just around the corner, throwing handfuls of sand into the air and laughing as it rains down on him. “I’m the one that’s going have to tell old man Ferguson that our mutt exacted his revenge on another hen.”
Sam shoves the papers into his messenger bag and stands to grab his suit jacket from the coat rack by the door. He pauses with an arm in one sleeve. “You really think he’s doing this because that chicken pecked JD’s finger?”
“The Fergusons have had those chickens for over a year. Angus has only been doing this since that day.” Dean bends down and scoops the dirty two-year-old up, ruffling his ash blonde hair to shake loose some of the sand. Bath time is going to be fun.
“Hannah and Bobby both warned us he’d be over protective of the boys. He was bred to keep them safe. You know how Rumsfeld is and remember those dogs that Casey had, Shelby and…” He twists his mouth in thought, the name of the male eluding him.
“Stang,” Dean supplies, hefting the squirming toddler to his hip. At Sam’s surprised silence, he shrugs and tickles his fingers over JD’s stomach. “I thought it was a cool name.”
Sam chuckles, both at the things his brother remembers and the sound of JD’s laugh. Thundering footsteps are coming down the hall toward his classroom and he turns to the door in anticipation. “Anyway, they were the same way.”
“Yeah, but we’re not talking about demons and monsters here. They’re chickens for crying out loud. The things are freaking nuisances with the constant clucking and all but I’m getting tired of cleaning up the remains and dealing with that old grump.” The last time Mr. Ferguson had threatened to call Animal Control until Sam calmly reminded him that the chicken was on their property and Angus was just ‘doing what dogs do’. The grizzled man’s lips had thinned into a tight line and his cheeks had flushed with anger before he stomped off. Dean scowls as he carries JD back inside wondering what the old coot will say this time.
“I’m packing up to leave now,” Sam says just as the door flings open and fifty pounds of exuberant first-grader pounces on him. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Ferguson when I get home. He likes me better than you.” Sam squeezes Joey tightly before setting the boy on his feet.
“You’re awesome, Sammy,” Dean enthuses. “Knew I kept you around for something.” He twists the faucet on in the tub and flicks his fingers through the falling water to check the temperature. Adjusting the settings, he sits on the commode and starts peeling off JD’s clothes. “Skin a rabbit,” he coos.
JD giggles when his head pops free from the shirt, gritty sand pattering on the tiled floor. “Babbit! Babbit!”
“I hope you keep me around for more than that,” Sam jokes. “Sounds like bath time,” he adds, hearing the rushing water and Dean and JD’s ritualistic words. “I’ll let you go. We should be home in twenty.” He motions for Joey to pick up his backpack and slings the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Dean replies absently trying to dodge flailing limbs excited at the prospect of playing in the tub.
“Bye.” Sam’s not sure if Dean’s still listening, knows bathing JD requires a person’s full attention if they intend to come out of it dry.
“Hey, Sammy?” Apparently Dean still has a small part of his mind on their conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful driving home. Lots of crazies out there.”
Dean’s job as a firefighter exposes him to the all sorts of bad accidents and Dean’s worst nightmare is pulling up on scene to find his family in the wreckage. “Always am,” Sam assures him just as he does every time.
“Oh, crap!” Dean yelps and Sam is worried for a fraction of a second until his brother continues, “You little stinker. You think soaking me down is funny, do you?”
“Bye, Dean!” Sam laughs. Sounds like JD saw Dean was distracted and seized the opportunity.
“Bye, Sammy!” Dean replies and Sam hears, “Come here, you. See if you think the shampoo monster is funny,” before the line disconnects.
“DeeDee not paying attention during bath time again?” Joey has a crooked smile on his face, amused that his baby brother is giving DeeDee a hard time.
“Nope,” Sam smiles back, matching the young boy dimple for dimple. “Have a good day today?”
“It was awesome!” Joey is bouncing as they walk and Sam suspects it has to do with a certain red-haired classmate that Joey hasn’t been able to stop talking about since school started. “Amber told me I was her boyfriend today.”
“Did she now?” Sam holds the door open to let his son pass, barely able to suppress his smirk. Girlfriend at age six, Dean will be impressed.
“Mmmhmmm,” Joey hums. “What’s for dinner?” Even the fair Amber can’t compete with Joey’s growing appetite.
“I thought we’d pick something up on the way home.” Giving Joey a boost up into the Jeep, Sam stows his bag and makes sure the child is buckled. “Why don’t you pick?”
“Me?” Joey’s eyes light up. “I can have anything I want?” He asks suspiciously. He’s not given the chance to pick often and wants to know the ground rules before he gets his heart set on something.
“Anything,” Sam nods tapping the end of Joey’s nose lightly.
“Fried chicken!”
“Anything but chicken,” Sam backtracks.