Fic: Meet the Parents
Meet the Parents (1/1)
Author: Pen37
Words: 1,800
Disclaimer: not mine
Fandoms: Supernatural/Smallville
Characters:Dean/Chloe
Summary: Boy meets girl's family.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge.
Prompt #24 family.
The table is here.
Dean rubbed his sweaty palms on his slacks, and stared up at the blue two-story home.
“We lost the house when Lionel fired my dad,” Chloe said. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and reached for the handle of the Impala. “But he bought it back last year, when mom came home. I think he may have even fixed up my old room. How weird is that?”
He watched Chloe out of the corner of his eye, and noted that she was every bit as nervous about tonight as he was.
Glumly, he looked down at his clothes. This was so not him. He looked like a friggin' pansy. What was he thinking letting Sammy talk him into wearing this? You were thinking that joe-college might help you make a good impression on your girl's parents. He told himself. And he told me that I stood a better chance if I looked less like a hunter and more like a nice boy.
He sighed, and pressed his forehead into the steering wheel. Who am I kidding? I'm not a nice boy.
“Dean - you coming?”
He looked up, and was awestruck as he saw the light of the setting sun bathe her in colors of shell pink and fiery orange. She was a goddess. With a capital G, even.
He set his jaw in a firm line of determination. By the end of tonight her parents were going to think he was a nice, normal guy, pansy pants and all. He could do this.
Hell, compared to some of her previous boyfriends, he was Ricky friggin' Nelson.
Relativity was a good thing.
* * *
Chloe's parents met them on the steps.
“Hi pumpkin,” Gabe pulled his daughter into his arms with a goofy smile. “Still short, I see.”
“Dad,” Chloe rolled her eyes.
Dean was instantly aware of Moira's scrutiny. He realized that she was assessing him as a threat, and was uncomfortably aware that she was probably the one that Chloe got her tough side from.
“Mom, Dad,” Chloe swallowed hard, and stepped back to stand next to him. “This is Dean Winchester.”
“Winchester is a good Welsh name,” Gabe nodded in approval.
Dean blinked in surprise. Welsh? The hell?
“Where are you from, Dean?”
“Lawrence originally,”
“And how did you meet Chloe?” Moira asked, catching his eyes with her piercing gaze.
“It was work related,” Dean said.
“So you're a reporter too?”
“More of an investigator,” Dean glanced over at Chloe as her parents led them into the house. “Chloe helped me out with a tricky case.” His memories flashed back to the day he'd met Chloe. He was checking out the docks down in the shipping district of Metropolis: looking into a series of mysterious disappearances that might be his kind of case.
Before he knew what hit him, he was dragged by the ankle underneath one of the docks. In one hell of a weird twist of fate, his assailant was a giant meteor-mutated squid that damn-near choked him to death. As he started to see spots, he thought ruefully that Sammy was probably going to get a kick out of the fact that after years of surviving everything the demon could throw at them; he was done in by over sized seafood.
The next thing he knew, he was being rescued by some beanpole farm kid and his pretty blond sidekick.
The attraction was instantaneous: she was good-looking and breathing, pretty much the only two things that he required in a woman. But then she grabbed his heart even as she shot him down with a cold glare and sarcasm: “You want frisky? Buy a kitten.”
She'd gotten under his skin while he got on her nerves. Which guaranteed that the next time he needed the 411 on the freaky-deaky, she was the one he called.
Later, he found out that they had stuff in common. They'd both lost their moms early, and both been mostly raised by their fathers. They'd both been dead . . . sorta.
Eventually, Chloe warmed up to him - or maybe Sammy was right and he just wore her down. Either way she agreed to go out with him, so it was all good. By the end of the date, he realized that he was so far gone over her that he may as well burn his little black book.
Which might explain why he was putting himself through this torture instead of doing something relaxing tonight - like dipping himself in honey and crawling naked through an anthill.
The Sullivan household was quaint in that picket fence, Leave-It-To-Beaver kind of way. Now that Moira and Gabe were together again, they were obviously trying to pick up life right where they left it. But the overall impression was a little off. Like an imperfectly repaired photograph. Gabe was just a little too cheerfully goofy, and Moira was like steel wrapped in velvet: just a touch too hard to be June Cleaver.
The walls were like a monument to Chloe's childhood. Photos, drawings and newspaper articles dotted the wall. Journalism awards crowded the mantle. Dean studied them in a glance, trying to match up little Chloe Sullivan with the tough-as-nails girl he knew. The clues were subtle: Moira vanished from family photos and Chloe's' smile was a little less bright. Instead of crayon drawings, there were quirky little newspaper articles about Bigfoot from her elementary school paper.
Even most of Gabe's 'bragging father' photos seemed not quite right. Maybe because Chloe looked slightly uncomfortable in them. 'Chloe's first Daily Planet column, Chloe as a cheerleader, Chloe as prom queen.' In every one of them, her smile was too-bright. Too cheery. Kind of like the smile she was giving her dad right now.
Dean raised a single eyebrow as he watched Chloe set the table with her mother. He'd seen her lie to FBI agents without breaking a sweat. But around her parents, she was just a bundle of nervous energy. He wondered if it was because of him.
“So Dean, would you like a drink?” Gabe asked as he opened his liquor cabinet.
Normally, he would think that it wasn't a good idea to drink anything within sight of any girlfriend's parents. But if Gabe was the opposite of what he expected, then maybe his ideas of appropriate were different as well. “Depends on the drink, sir.”
“How does Irish Whiskey sound?” Gabe smiled.
“Maybe after dinner sir,” Dean said. “I really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach.”
“Dad,” Chloe touched her father's shoulder. “You're supposed to save the good stuff for a special occasion. Not give it to my boyfriend.”
“No, hon,” Gabe shook his head as he poured himself a glass, and put the rest away. “I drank all the Tully the summer we were hiding from Lionel Luthor,” he muttered as he wandered toward the dining room.”
Dean sat across from Chloe during dinner. He figured that he wouldn't have to answer questions if he kept his mouth full of food.
“So pumpkin,” Gabe spoke between bites of food. “What have you heard about this Superman fellow?”
Chloe's eyes widened, and suddenly she was coughing up her Soder. “Wha?” She asked into her napkin. Dean looked across the table, eyebrow raised in question.
Gabe shrugged. “Your paper had the interview. I just figured a flying man would be World of Weird material.”
“You'd have more luck asking Lois,” Chloe was suddenly very interested in her fork, which she twiddled between her fingers with nervous energy. “She's the one who broke the story. Since he's openly giving interviews he falls into the category of page one celebrity, not syndicated column o' weird.”
“Oh,” Gabe said. “I just figured you would be the Sullivan-Lane girl with the 411 on weirdness.”
“Lois is the one who threw herself off the bridge to score the interview,” Chloe peeked up through her bangs, and gave the tiniest of smiles. “I'm not quite that desperate for a story - even if it is Pulitzer material.”
Thank God, Dean smirked at her. There were days he wondered about whether Chloe's common sense outweighed her search for truth and justice. Then Lois did something buckets-of-crazy that reminded him that he picked a smart one.
Just then, Moira produced a square watermelon for desert. Dean eyed the offending fruit suspiciously. He glanced over at Chloe. The young blond prodded it, tilted her head sideways, and shrugged before digging in. Dean mimicked her response. If she wasn't that worried about her overall meteor-related health, then he wasn't going to worry about his either.
“So Dean,” Gabe titled his head in a move of inquiry that was reminiscent of Chloe. “Ever watch the Twilight Zone?”
He made a point not to watch the Twilight Zone as a matter of fact. By the age of eight, he didn't need to be told that To Serve Mankind was a cookbook. Besides, the episode with the monster on the airplane gave him the creeps.
“Actually, I thought I would take Dean up on the roof to see the stars,” Chloe said. “They're never this bright in Metropolis.”
“Take a blanket with you,” Moira instructed with a knowing look on her face.
* * *
Nestled between the gables of the roof under a diamond-studded sky, Dean felt the same sense of belonging with the sardonic blond in his arms that he had that night under the docks. Despite her family's radioactive-normalcy, she was his kindred spirit. They were like apple pie with cheddar cheese on it: Kinda’ twisted in a good way.
“So you were a cheerleader?”
“I blame the drugs. Let us never speak of it again.” Her laugh was infectious, and Dean pulled her close so that she could feel him chuckle right along with her.
“And you were the prom queen.”
“A possessed prom queen. Some people have Hallmark Moments. I get Stephen King moments. Let's not talk about graduation, either. I never got to make my valedictorian speech.”
“I've never kissed a valedictorian before,” He said.
“You've kissed me a lot already, Mr. Winchester,” Chloe said archly.
Dean rested his head on her shoulder, and made a non-commental grunt. “So do you think your folks think I'm a nice guy?”
Chloe chuckled. “Not likely.”
“What?” Dean felt a little hurt by that.
“They know me too well,” Chloe said. “I don’t attract nice guys. But they see that you're a good guy. And that's what matters.”
“I can live with that.” He pulled her closer, his smile turning lecherous. “And since I'm not fooling anybody, I can think of some not-nice things we could be doing.”
“Why don't you show me, Mr. Winchester,” Chloe purred into his ear.
So he did.
Author: Pen37
Words: 1,800
Disclaimer: not mine
Fandoms: Supernatural/Smallville
Characters:Dean/Chloe
Summary: Boy meets girl's family.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge.
Prompt #24 family.
The table is here.
Dean rubbed his sweaty palms on his slacks, and stared up at the blue two-story home.
“We lost the house when Lionel fired my dad,” Chloe said. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and reached for the handle of the Impala. “But he bought it back last year, when mom came home. I think he may have even fixed up my old room. How weird is that?”
He watched Chloe out of the corner of his eye, and noted that she was every bit as nervous about tonight as he was.
Glumly, he looked down at his clothes. This was so not him. He looked like a friggin' pansy. What was he thinking letting Sammy talk him into wearing this? You were thinking that joe-college might help you make a good impression on your girl's parents. He told himself. And he told me that I stood a better chance if I looked less like a hunter and more like a nice boy.
He sighed, and pressed his forehead into the steering wheel. Who am I kidding? I'm not a nice boy.
“Dean - you coming?”
He looked up, and was awestruck as he saw the light of the setting sun bathe her in colors of shell pink and fiery orange. She was a goddess. With a capital G, even.
He set his jaw in a firm line of determination. By the end of tonight her parents were going to think he was a nice, normal guy, pansy pants and all. He could do this.
Hell, compared to some of her previous boyfriends, he was Ricky friggin' Nelson.
Relativity was a good thing.
* * *
Chloe's parents met them on the steps.
“Hi pumpkin,” Gabe pulled his daughter into his arms with a goofy smile. “Still short, I see.”
“Dad,” Chloe rolled her eyes.
Dean was instantly aware of Moira's scrutiny. He realized that she was assessing him as a threat, and was uncomfortably aware that she was probably the one that Chloe got her tough side from.
“Mom, Dad,” Chloe swallowed hard, and stepped back to stand next to him. “This is Dean Winchester.”
“Winchester is a good Welsh name,” Gabe nodded in approval.
Dean blinked in surprise. Welsh? The hell?
“Where are you from, Dean?”
“Lawrence originally,”
“And how did you meet Chloe?” Moira asked, catching his eyes with her piercing gaze.
“It was work related,” Dean said.
“So you're a reporter too?”
“More of an investigator,” Dean glanced over at Chloe as her parents led them into the house. “Chloe helped me out with a tricky case.” His memories flashed back to the day he'd met Chloe. He was checking out the docks down in the shipping district of Metropolis: looking into a series of mysterious disappearances that might be his kind of case.
Before he knew what hit him, he was dragged by the ankle underneath one of the docks. In one hell of a weird twist of fate, his assailant was a giant meteor-mutated squid that damn-near choked him to death. As he started to see spots, he thought ruefully that Sammy was probably going to get a kick out of the fact that after years of surviving everything the demon could throw at them; he was done in by over sized seafood.
The next thing he knew, he was being rescued by some beanpole farm kid and his pretty blond sidekick.
The attraction was instantaneous: she was good-looking and breathing, pretty much the only two things that he required in a woman. But then she grabbed his heart even as she shot him down with a cold glare and sarcasm: “You want frisky? Buy a kitten.”
She'd gotten under his skin while he got on her nerves. Which guaranteed that the next time he needed the 411 on the freaky-deaky, she was the one he called.
Later, he found out that they had stuff in common. They'd both lost their moms early, and both been mostly raised by their fathers. They'd both been dead . . . sorta.
Eventually, Chloe warmed up to him - or maybe Sammy was right and he just wore her down. Either way she agreed to go out with him, so it was all good. By the end of the date, he realized that he was so far gone over her that he may as well burn his little black book.
Which might explain why he was putting himself through this torture instead of doing something relaxing tonight - like dipping himself in honey and crawling naked through an anthill.
The Sullivan household was quaint in that picket fence, Leave-It-To-Beaver kind of way. Now that Moira and Gabe were together again, they were obviously trying to pick up life right where they left it. But the overall impression was a little off. Like an imperfectly repaired photograph. Gabe was just a little too cheerfully goofy, and Moira was like steel wrapped in velvet: just a touch too hard to be June Cleaver.
The walls were like a monument to Chloe's childhood. Photos, drawings and newspaper articles dotted the wall. Journalism awards crowded the mantle. Dean studied them in a glance, trying to match up little Chloe Sullivan with the tough-as-nails girl he knew. The clues were subtle: Moira vanished from family photos and Chloe's' smile was a little less bright. Instead of crayon drawings, there were quirky little newspaper articles about Bigfoot from her elementary school paper.
Even most of Gabe's 'bragging father' photos seemed not quite right. Maybe because Chloe looked slightly uncomfortable in them. 'Chloe's first Daily Planet column, Chloe as a cheerleader, Chloe as prom queen.' In every one of them, her smile was too-bright. Too cheery. Kind of like the smile she was giving her dad right now.
Dean raised a single eyebrow as he watched Chloe set the table with her mother. He'd seen her lie to FBI agents without breaking a sweat. But around her parents, she was just a bundle of nervous energy. He wondered if it was because of him.
“So Dean, would you like a drink?” Gabe asked as he opened his liquor cabinet.
Normally, he would think that it wasn't a good idea to drink anything within sight of any girlfriend's parents. But if Gabe was the opposite of what he expected, then maybe his ideas of appropriate were different as well. “Depends on the drink, sir.”
“How does Irish Whiskey sound?” Gabe smiled.
“Maybe after dinner sir,” Dean said. “I really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach.”
“Dad,” Chloe touched her father's shoulder. “You're supposed to save the good stuff for a special occasion. Not give it to my boyfriend.”
“No, hon,” Gabe shook his head as he poured himself a glass, and put the rest away. “I drank all the Tully the summer we were hiding from Lionel Luthor,” he muttered as he wandered toward the dining room.”
Dean sat across from Chloe during dinner. He figured that he wouldn't have to answer questions if he kept his mouth full of food.
“So pumpkin,” Gabe spoke between bites of food. “What have you heard about this Superman fellow?”
Chloe's eyes widened, and suddenly she was coughing up her Soder. “Wha?” She asked into her napkin. Dean looked across the table, eyebrow raised in question.
Gabe shrugged. “Your paper had the interview. I just figured a flying man would be World of Weird material.”
“You'd have more luck asking Lois,” Chloe was suddenly very interested in her fork, which she twiddled between her fingers with nervous energy. “She's the one who broke the story. Since he's openly giving interviews he falls into the category of page one celebrity, not syndicated column o' weird.”
“Oh,” Gabe said. “I just figured you would be the Sullivan-Lane girl with the 411 on weirdness.”
“Lois is the one who threw herself off the bridge to score the interview,” Chloe peeked up through her bangs, and gave the tiniest of smiles. “I'm not quite that desperate for a story - even if it is Pulitzer material.”
Thank God, Dean smirked at her. There were days he wondered about whether Chloe's common sense outweighed her search for truth and justice. Then Lois did something buckets-of-crazy that reminded him that he picked a smart one.
Just then, Moira produced a square watermelon for desert. Dean eyed the offending fruit suspiciously. He glanced over at Chloe. The young blond prodded it, tilted her head sideways, and shrugged before digging in. Dean mimicked her response. If she wasn't that worried about her overall meteor-related health, then he wasn't going to worry about his either.
“So Dean,” Gabe titled his head in a move of inquiry that was reminiscent of Chloe. “Ever watch the Twilight Zone?”
He made a point not to watch the Twilight Zone as a matter of fact. By the age of eight, he didn't need to be told that To Serve Mankind was a cookbook. Besides, the episode with the monster on the airplane gave him the creeps.
“Actually, I thought I would take Dean up on the roof to see the stars,” Chloe said. “They're never this bright in Metropolis.”
“Take a blanket with you,” Moira instructed with a knowing look on her face.
* * *
Nestled between the gables of the roof under a diamond-studded sky, Dean felt the same sense of belonging with the sardonic blond in his arms that he had that night under the docks. Despite her family's radioactive-normalcy, she was his kindred spirit. They were like apple pie with cheddar cheese on it: Kinda’ twisted in a good way.
“So you were a cheerleader?”
“I blame the drugs. Let us never speak of it again.” Her laugh was infectious, and Dean pulled her close so that she could feel him chuckle right along with her.
“And you were the prom queen.”
“A possessed prom queen. Some people have Hallmark Moments. I get Stephen King moments. Let's not talk about graduation, either. I never got to make my valedictorian speech.”
“I've never kissed a valedictorian before,” He said.
“You've kissed me a lot already, Mr. Winchester,” Chloe said archly.
Dean rested his head on her shoulder, and made a non-commental grunt. “So do you think your folks think I'm a nice guy?”
Chloe chuckled. “Not likely.”
“What?” Dean felt a little hurt by that.
“They know me too well,” Chloe said. “I don’t attract nice guys. But they see that you're a good guy. And that's what matters.”
“I can live with that.” He pulled her closer, his smile turning lecherous. “And since I'm not fooling anybody, I can think of some not-nice things we could be doing.”
“Why don't you show me, Mr. Winchester,” Chloe purred into his ear.
So he did.