Prom Weekend smoothie!
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: The Dragon World and Nothing is Ever Easy
Challenge: Butter Pecan 8 (sweet), Red Currant 12 (high tide) [Marina]; Butter Rum 11 (weigh anchor), Pineapple 23 (you know you want to) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Brownie, Peaches (Working toward goals you share with others could bring you closer together as friends and lovers), Smoothie [both] Malt (Easter Egg prompt from Nath: “I have no idea where this will lead us. But I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.” - Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks) [Marina]
Word Count: 5,807
Rating: PG
Summary: A Tale of Two First Dates
Notes: For Prom Weekend! It was immediately obvious to us which characters we were going to end up writing about, and then Casey came up with the idea that we should write a first date for both universes. So here they are: a pair of completely different and somewhat odd first dates for Carrie and Dean.
Dean lounged on the couch, watching the rain ping against the window and sort of working on homework. It was unusual for him to have plans on the weekend, so he often spent his Saturdays on schoolwork, but the grey skies outside gave him such a cozy, lethargic feeling that he couldn’t concentrate very well. The words in his textbook blurred as he grew drowsier and drowsier. Finally, he put it down and closed his eyes, just for a minute.
He startled back awake when the phone rang and reached over to snag the receiver, not wanting to distract his dad, who was out in the garage working on a new bookcase. "Hello?"
"Dean!" The sound of Carrie's voice on the other end sent a little thrill up his spine, and he couldn't help grinning. "Are you busy?"
He glanced down at the history textbook in his lap. "I suppose technically I have homework but there's tomorrow too. Why?" he asked, trying to sound cool and collected and not at all sure he managed either.
"You should come over and jump in puddles with me!"
Dean pulled the phone briefly away from his ear and stared at it in confusion. "Jump in puddles?" he repeated, having expected just about anything but that.
"Yes!" she affirmed, with no hesitation. "Just a bit, cause it's fun, and then we can hang out for a while after if you want."
"Do I..." he trailed off, feeling foolish. "Do you need something special to jump in puddles?" He felt as if he should have rain boots or something, but what self-respecting teenage guy owned those?
"Good shoes and something waterproof if you can," said Carrie. "Unless you don't mind getting really wet, or you want to bring a change of dry clothes with you."
He tried very, very hard to keep his mind out of the gutter. "I can handle that. Any particular time? I'll probably get Dad to drive me over."
"Just whenever. But a soonish whenever?"
"I'm sure I can do that. I'll be over as soon as I can drag Dad out of his newest project," Dean said wryly.
"Sounds great! I'll wait for you." She hung up.
He shook his head, replaced the receiver, and dumped his textbook on the table. It took him about five minutes to locate a pair of sandals he didn’t mind getting wet, pack a change of clothes, and collect his raincoat before he bounded down to talk to his dad.
Talking to Sorin when he got into one of his 'must build' moods sometimes wasn't easy, but today his father looked up as soon as Dean entered the makeshift workshop. "Planning on going out in this?" he asked at the sight of his son in a raincoat.
"Carrie invited me over and I was hoping you could give me a ride," he asked, giving his father his very best 'please' smile.
Sorin glanced at his project and then nodded. "Sure, let me just-"
Dean passed him his keys, wallet and jacket. "Now?" he prompted. His father laughed and headed for the door.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside Carrie's house. She was waiting on the porch steps, wearing neither a coat nor solid shoes. Upon seeing the car, she grinned widely and jumped to her feet. Dean grabbed his backpack as he hopped out of the car. "See you, Dad!" he said, and then bounded up the front walk to Carrie.
She gave him a quick, tight hug when he reached her. "Hey! Let's put your backpack inside and then do this fast before the rain stops." He checked to make sure his dad had pulled away and then had to grin in return. Carrie took his bag, dropped it just inside the front door, and then grabbed his hand. "Come on."
"I feel overdressed," Dean pointed out, though he made no effort to fight back against her tugging.
"I've been doing this for years." She shot him a little smirk as she pulled him down the steps after her. "I mean, feel free to ditch your raincoat whenever, it's not mandatory, but I felt you should be prepared just in case you don't like puddles as much as I do."
"I'm not sure how my raincoat is going to help with puddles particularly," he said and then made a face. "Just because I had a deprived childhood does not mean you should mock me."
"Might I point out that it is still raining? That is also water, and would be what the coat is for." Her shirt and jeans, already dotted with fat raindrops, proved that point.
He quickly dragged his gaze back up to her face, hoping the gloominess hid the reddening of his cheeks. "You're mocking me again. Or maybe more..."
She stuck out her tongue a bit. "I wasn't, before, but just now I might've been. A little bit." At this, they reached the curb, and she let go of his hand and plunged right into a deep puddle with an excited squee.
Dean watched her for a second, unable to help laughing. Her exuberance and complete lack of shame shocked him somewhat, even though it should not have, after she had posed the idea in the first place. A gut feeling told him that he should probably get used to it-as usual, her excitement was contagious.
She spun in a circle as she continued to hop, the splashes making dark marks on her jeans. He hesitated a moment longer before shucking his raincoat and bouncing over to join her. For a moment, he wondered why she hadn't called Chase, then decided he didn't particularly care why.
Carrie looked up at the sound of his first splash and laughed when she saw that his coat was gone. She playfully kicked some water at him. He wrinkled his nose, but jumped hard into a puddle right next to her. She cackled evilly. "Yes, dance my puppet, dance! Or is it 'hop, puppet, hop' in this case?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that really how you want to play this?" he asked teasingly.
"What do you mean by that?" She lifted her eyebrows, not quite managing total innocence.
He affected a bit of a swagger, putting his fists on his hips. "I'm nobody's puppet," he said, although his unwanted inner voice informed him that he was completely Carrie's puppet.
She snickered. "Of course not. You're still not hopping, though!" With that, she snatched both his hands and went straight back to it. He was a bit distantly embarrassed to discover he really couldn't resist it, hopping right along with her into the deepest puddles they could find.
They jumped and skipped their way to the end of the block and stopped at the corner to catch their breath, thoroughly soaked. Carrie pushed her matted bangs and strands from her pigtails out of her face. "Wasn't that awesome?"
"In more ways than one," Dean said, grinning, shaking himself and spraying water everywhere.
"Ewww!" Carrie laughed and backed away a bit. "You're like a wet dog!"
"That's the point! I figured you deserved something in return for calling me your puppet."
She shoved his shoulder. "I was joking!" He laughed and made as if he was going to shake on her again. "Ack, no!" she cried, quickly leaping back a couple of paces to the relative safety of a nearby tree.
"Gotcha," he said, with some relish.
"You're terrible." She crossed her arms and tried to look indignant, but an involuntary shiver prevented it. "I think I'm puddled out. Let's go back to the house where it's warm."
Dean felt a chill emanating up from his wet feet, and nodded. "Good idea," he said. Without thinking about it, he offered his hand. She took it with a smile and began to lead the way back.
At the house, Eva let them in with a knowing grimace and gave them each a towel. "You change out of those wet clothes immediately, miss," she said imperiously to Carrie. "Dean, did she tell you that you might need a change of clothes?"
"Yeah, I've got them in my bag," Dean said, with a smile. He had instinctively liked Eva from day one. Pulling the towel around his shoulders, he nodded his thanks, scooped up his bag, and headed for the bathroom to change.
When he came out, he spotted Carrie walking out of another door, already changed into dry clothes and pulling a towel turban off her head. "You done with your towel?" she asked. "Let me have it and I'll toss it in the laundry room."
He tossed it to her. "All yours," he told her, patting down his own haphazardly toweled mane.
"Thank ye kindly." She gave her scalp one last vigorous rub and then flung both towels through another doorway. "Right then! How does hot chocolate sound? Mom's also got some coffee if you like that."
"Hot chocolate would be excellent."
"Outstanding." She skipped to the kitchen, and Dean followed with considerable amusement and a spark of glee in the pit of his stomach.
Eva provided them with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate the second they walked through the door. "Thanks, Mom," Carrie beamed, accepting hers.
"Thanks, Eva," Dean echoed. Her name still stalled on his tongue slightly, but she had already insisted to him enough times that that was what she preferred for him to want to argue.
"You're welcome. You two can take those into the living room if you're careful."
Carrie grinned at her mother. "I am always careful."
"A likely story," Eva said, looking amused. Dean snorted, trying to bite back laughter and potential comments.
Carrie poked him. "You shush."
"I said nothing!" He clutched his hot chocolate perhaps a bit more dramatically than necessary.
"You were thinking it!"
"Okay, okay." Eva made shooing motions with her hands. "Begone and do not spill, or you will face my wrath."
"Thinking it is not the same thing," Dean said righteously, shooting Eva a smile.
Carrie shook her head at him with narrowed eyes and waggled a mock-judging finger as they crossed into the living room.
"Don't shake your head at me!"
"Don't you think things about me!"
There was absolutely nothing Dean could do to prevent the blush that spread across his face at that.
Carrie set her mug on a coaster on the coffee table, and produced another for him. She looked up, opening her mouth to make another comment, but stopped when she saw how red he was. "Um," she said, coloring a little bit herself, "are you okay?"
He quickly busied himself putting his mug in the very center of his coaster. "Yup, just fine," he said, unable to help his voice rising just a bit higher than usual.
"You can think good things about me," she said quickly. "Just not...bad...ones."
If anything, he reddened further at that. "I, um, promise they're good," he said, clearing his throat. "So, uh, how about that weather?"
Carrie's face darkened to a visible scarlet, something of a feat for her since she had a much darker complexion than Dean’s. "What did I say? I don't get it."
"Jeez, Care," he muttered, running a distracted hand through his still damp hair, making it stand on end. "You told me not to think things about you." He shifted, staring avidly at his mug. "S'kinda hard not to sometimes," he finished, very softly, to avoid Eva hearing him from the kitchen.
She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, God, I am so sorry."
He wrinkled his nose. "I know you didn't mean it that way but you caught me off guard."
"You just have a dirty mind," she teased, with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Guilty as charged," he said, taking a sip of hot chocolate. "But then again, I'm a teenaged guy. It comes with..." he paused, thinking of Chase. "It usually comes with the territory."
"Well, guys don't have the monopoly on it. It's pretty common in teenage girls, too."
Dean felt himself start to smile. "Yeah?" he asked, glancing up at her finally.
Carrie looked a little appalled that she had actually admitted it, but finally came up with a relaxed smile. "Yeah. That 'guys are dirtier than girls' thing is a myth."
"I always was a bit skeptical about that."
"Well, now you know." She grinned. "I am here to enlighten you!"
"I'm obviously lucky to have a great teacher," he said. "Learning about puddle jumping and the dirty minds of girls all on the same day. Who could ask for more?"
"And I'm incredibly lucky to have a student who won't judge me," she replied.
"I would never dream of such a thing," Dean said solemnly.
Carrie plunked down into a seat on the couch, patted the cushion next to her, and reached for her mug. "Good. That would be unfortunate."
"It would," he said, sitting next to her. As he settled in, he was careful not to brush against her, although he wanted to badly. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and shot him an amused yet pleased glance over the rim of the cup, but she wasn’t careful enough and a little dribble escaped over her lip.
Dean smiled and carefully reached over, using his thumb to wipe it away. Then he realized just what he’d done and brought his hand back toward him, afraid he'd overstepped. Carrie's fingers closed around his wrist to stop him. A slow blush crept over her face again, but she maintained eye contact even as she slowly leaned over to set her hot chocolate safely out of the way. Dean found himself swallowing, glad his own mug was already down.
"Um." Her grip tightened a little. "Is it okay if I..."
Instead of answering, Dean reached up with his free hand, carefully and then leaned in. He was a bit tentative as their lips met, but Carrie took him by the shoulder and pulled him toward her without hesitating. He had absolutely no problem with that, scooting closer to her on the couch and momentarily forgetting all about her mom in the other room.
Much as he wanted to continue, he let Carrie break the kiss when she began to pull away again several seconds later. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again, finally settling on an embarrassed chuckle. He smiled cautiously. "Was that, um...okay?" he settled on.
She snorted. "Not that I'm any judge, cause I've never...yeah, but it was good." She began to grin until her eyes shifted away to a spot over his shoulder and widened in sudden panic.
Dean glanced that way to see Eva peeking around the kitchen doorway. He flushed bright red, desperately hoping she hadn't seen anything. "Uh, hi, Eva."
"Hi, Dean." Eva seemed amused, which relieved him somewhat. Instead of making any further comments, she locked eyes with her daughter for a moment and raised a significant eyebrow. Carrie nodded sheepishly, and Eva nonchalantly crossed into the front hall with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water in tow.
Dean glanced back at Carrie. "At least it wasn't Chase?" he ventured.
She laughed, a little too loudly. "I don't even want to think about what Chase is going to say. Mom and I already had the 'discussion' about this stuff. She was just...reminding me, in her own way."
"Hopefully we can avoid Chase knowing for a long time?"
Carrie dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "Nah, he'll never forgive me. I'll have to tell him. But...I really don't want to be worrying about that right now."
Dean was more than happy to abandon that particular topic. "So, can we do this again sometime?"
"Absolutely," she said, smiling.
"All of it?" he said, with a bit of a wicked grin.
She put on an innocent expression. "Well, the puddle jumping will have to wait until it rains again…"
"And the rest?" His grin widened.
"Oh, I suppose." Carrie tried to affect an indifferent air, but she was blushing too hard for that to work.
Dean leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek. "Should we watch a movie or play a game or something?"
She smiled. "Sounds awesome. I'll show you where the movies are and we can pick one."
As they perused the extensive “movie cupboard” next to the entertainment center, Dean slipped an arm around Carrie’s waist and smiled widely when she leaned into him instead of pulling away. “How’s Pirates sound?” she asked, holding up the box.
“Perfect,” he said.
***
It took six trips to get all the buckets up to her designated perch. Carrie had thought, at first, that she could wear them on her shoulders as she climbed, but that quickly proved to be problematic as the contents began to spill onto her dress before she could get too far. Climbing the tree one-handed and trying to balance the heavy weight required twisting her body in ways it wasn’t meant to go, and she almost fell a couple of times, but she managed it. When she had secured the sixth bucket in a crevice next to the fork she had picked to sit in, she smiled with immense smugness. Karl would never, in a million years, expect this.
She climbed down from the tree and landed neatly next to Dean. "All set," she reported. "The buckets are staying pretty good, and I can see the road from up there, but they won’t spot me right away."
"Are you sure about this? It could be dangerous," he said, absently patting the knife on his belt.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. First, those jerks did way worse to you, we're not even giving them half what they actually deserve." Thinking about it still made her insides burn. She hadn’t liked Karl or Richard or any of the others since the very beginning, but she had never guessed that they could be so cruel. Dean probably never would have told her, either, if she hadn’t been involved. "Second, no one gets to control who I hang out with, and third, I'll be in a tree and I'm a great climber. I'd like to see them try to follow me that high."
"Just had to ask!" Dean said, holding up his hands in defense and grinning.
"Yeah, yeah." She smiled back. "You just be careful, okay, I don't want you to have to use that." She pointed to the knife.
"They wouldn't stand a chance if I did," he said, without any overt pride in the fact, and glanced upward to check on the buckets.
His certainty made her pause for a moment, suddenly curious. She crossed her arms and eyed both him and the weapon. "Have you ever tried it?"
"Tried what? Used the knife on them?"
"Yeah, that."
Dean blinked and looked back at her. "Well, no. That wouldn't be fair."
Carrie nodded, relaxing a little bit. "I kind of thought you thought that way. I don't know if it'd be a good thing if they knew you knew how to, but...at the same time, it'd give them second thoughts. I don't know. Beside the point."
"Yeah, they're usually just a nuisance." He shrugged. "So they usually set up shop within the next half an hour, so I should be able to flush 'em out as soon as they get there."
She debated arguing that anything that left bruises was more than just a nuisance, but decided against it. They didn't have very much time left to get ready. "Okay. I'll climb back up and wait."
He took her arm to stop her. "Carrie? Thanks. This means a lot," he said, earnestly and a bit awkwardly.
Feeling heat in her cheeks, she quickly threw her arms around his neck-forgetting how bad her clothes smelled for a moment-and hugged him tightly so he wouldn't see. "Shut up, it's not a big deal. 'sides, it's not just about you."
He hugged her back. "I know, but still. Never..." He cleared his throat. "Never had someone not family willing to do this kind of thing."
"Well, I like you, so..." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and pulled away. "You'd better go get ready or you won't be in the right spot before they get there," she said.
"If you insist," he said, looking a little bit happily dazed. Carrie couldn't help a silly grin herself as she watched him hurry to his designated position.
When he had disappeared into the trees, she turned back and began the task of climbing twenty feet back to her fork and the buckets. Without the weight of their mud mixture fighting against her, it was much easier, but her hands were blistered and scratched from the earlier trips. She tried to ignore the pain, thinking of Dean's injuries. It would be more than worth it if they could get Karl's gang to back off.
The plan had been her idea, for the most part. Dean had to travel down a long, tree-lined lane to visit her in town, and Karl and the others liked to hide in the densest cluster to stop him from going. Carrie and Dean had decided that the only way to surprise them was to get there earlier. They had been up since before the sunrise, mixing their brew and picking the attack location. Carrie's tree stood just over one hundred yards from Karl’s usual stakeout. Dean would pretend to take his usual walk down to her mother's inn, but instead of turning around when the bullies showed up, he would start running, hopefully leading them right into Carrie's fire.
She settled herself in the fork and reached for the first bucket. The smell of manure in the mixture made her wrinkle her nose, but also gave her a tremendous amount of satisfaction, and she mentally thanked Dean for that brilliant addition.
Several minutes passed in silence. Just when she started to zone out, she heard the voices of the entire gang, joking and horsing around as they got into position.
Carrie rolled her eyes. She almost felt sorry for them-at least she had better things to do with her time than skulk around in the woods all day. "Come on, Dean," she muttered, listening carefully.
A loud, self-confident whistle suddenly cut across the noise. The group instantly silenced as the sound of Dean kicking carelessly at stones reached her. She peered through the branches and had to grin. That flagrant "defiance" would have Karl out and after Dean in no time at all. She hefted the bucket more securely into her arms.
A moment later, the bullies made their move, swarming out of the trees towards Dean. He pretended a touch of surprise and then turned and sprinted towards town before they could completely block his path. She scooted forward a bit in the fork. As he raced by, she made a snap calculation: the fastest runners were no more than ten yards behind him, and she would have to make her move a second or two before they would reach her, to get the timing just right. Carrie counted a beat, overturned the first bucket, and hung it on a nearby branch as she reached for another.
The first round hit the frontrunners square over their heads, bringing them to a shambling, confused stop. She didn't waste any time in dumping out the next bucket as well as a third, knowing they would soon spot her.
It took the third volley before they smartened up and looked skyward. Carrie beamed and waved at them. "Hello!" she called, right before she sent the fourth load down.
"What the fuck?" exploded from underneath her, followed closely by Dean's laughter.
"Do you like my concoction? We brewed it ourselves at Dean's. Mud mixed with just a hint of horse crap." She grinned. "Okay, maybe more than just a hint."
Two or three of them turned toward Dean furiously, and he made an elaborate show of shrugging. "We have a lot of horses." He scratched at his chin for a second. "And I don't appreciate being jumped."
Karl pushed his way to the front of the pack, as filthy and angry as the rest of them. "This isn't over, Bastard Boy," he snarled.
"How many times do I have to explain that I'm not?" Dean said patiently.
"Shut your mouth, Karl," Carrie snapped. "You guys are assholes. You have no right to pick on Dean, who's never done anything to you, and you have no right to tell either of us not to hang out with each other. As far as I'm concerned, this is the least of what you deserve, and I'm willing to do it again every damn day until you back off." To prove her point, she flung the contents of the fifth bucket and reached for the last. This time, they scattered away from her perch, so she held off on the final attack.
Karl glared up at her furiously and started to bend as if to find something on the ground to throw at her, but Dean took a step towards them. "Here's the deal, Karl," he said, voice still the epitome of patience. "You and I, well, you're never going to be able to stop being a dumbass, so we're always going to have problems and that's cool with me. It helps me keep my skills sharp. But you and Richard leave the rest of the world out of it, just like we did as kids, or you're going to go about constantly smelling of manure. Do we have an understanding?"
The two boys in charge glared at him, but after a few seconds, Karl straightened again and nodded. "Yeah, we got an understanding."
"Good," said Carrie, resuming a sunny expression. "Now get out of here and take a bath or it's going to stay with you all day."
"They take baths?" Dean asked and then grinned at the boys, even as he stepped aside, gesturing for them all to pass. Even though he seemed relaxed, Carrie didn't miss him dropping his hand to his knife, as they started to shuffle by. She watched apprehensively until they were all out of her vision.
Dean approached her tree, but didn't get too close, standing well clear of the splatter area. He glanced over his shoulder. "I think you're safe to come down."
"Okay." She put the remaining full bucket aside and gathered up the empty ones. "Can I toss these down to you?"
He wrinkled his nose a bit, edging forward. "I guess so."
Carrie let the first one drop down. As he caught it, a couple of spurts flew out onto his face. She covered her mouth to hide her giggles. "This is not funny!" he said, with just the barest hint of a whine to it, while he set the bucket on the ground and tugged his shirt up to wipe at his face.
"It is a little bit funny," she replied, unabashed. "Since, y'know, I'm covered with the stuff from getting it up here in the first place."
"Okay," he admitted grudgingly, "maybe a bit. Toss the next one."
His face and shirt were both casualties of the next four deposits, but he did not bother to wipe off his face after the first one. Then, Carrie climbed down, and he skirted the splash zone to help her lower the last bucket down. She handed it off gratefully once she was near enough. "My shoulders are going to be aching for a week."
He set it down out of the way and hopped aside. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly.
"Don't be. It was worth it." Even as she rubbed her shoulders and upper arms, she gave him a beatific grin. "Did you see their faces?"
He matched it. "It was perfect! I never could have pulled off that good revenge on my own."
She offered her hand for a high-five, which he returned. "You're welcome. Now let's get these buckets back to yours and then go to my mom's so I can change."
Dean hefted the full bucket without any visible effort and waited until she'd grabbed the stack of empty ones. They fell into step easily as they headed back towards his house.
Upon their return to the barn, Carrie dumped out the last bucket and began to rinse them off while Dean washed his face and put on a fresh shirt. He reappeared a few minutes later. "Is your mom going to be angry at the fact you…" here he paused, obviously trying to stifle a smile, "smell?"
She paused to consider it. "Uh...she probably thinks I've outgrown playing in the mud, but as long as I get my dress washed right away it won't be a big deal. Was your dad mad?"
"I think Dad and Russ figure it's long overdue. I'm pretty sure they spent most of the time we were gone giggling like little children and wishing they could have come."
"Your dad and Russ rock." She tossed the last bucket on top of the clean stack. "Okay, done."
Dean grinned. "Yeah, they do," he agreed happily. "C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up too."
Carrie smiled and began to offer him her hand before she thought better of it. "Sorry, I'm still nasty, so I'd better not touch you until I fix that."
He took it anyway before she could protest further. "Hands can be washed."
She stuck her tongue out, but squeezed his hand as they began to walk. "Can I ask you something?"
He looked a bit cautious, as he always did about questions, but nodded. "Sure."
"About...that." She gestured to his knife. "How did you learn how to use it?"
"Mostly it's because Dad wanted me to know how to protect myself, in case of an emergency, but I wanted to too. You know, wanted to be big and strong and capable like Dad and Russ." He rubbed his nose with his free hand. "They started teaching me once my aunt Ani moved out, because she didn't want them to."
"Yeah, I can see why, if those guys were always harassing you like that."
"Those dumbasses have been the least of my worries a few times," he said.
She glanced at him. "Your aunt...that's Queen Anica, right?"
He nodded. "Yup, she married Ren back when Dad and Vladimir were still running things."
"I remember." It was one of her first clear memories-not just Anica’s marriage to Renier, but most of the major events of the last year of the war. Mostly, she remembered her mother’s fear, but she didn’t like thinking about that part. "Everyone was talking about it. You can't live in a busy hostel and not hear about that stuff pretty much constantly."
He rubbed his nose again. "Dad wouldn't have let it happen if they hadn't loved each other," he said, a bit defensively.
Carrie frowned. "I didn't say they didn't. It's actually kind of obvious they do, which is great cause it's not common with royalty."
Dean ducked his head. "Sorry, it's hard sometimes, you know, balancing being Dad's son with what he did and what a lot of people think of him."
"Dean, I already said I don't care."
"I know and I know trying to act like I can protect him is silly too," he said, and then he brought up his head to look at her with an almost hungry look she was already familiar with. "So most royalty doesn't usually love each other?"
"That's what it seems like," she said, suddenly feeling very tentative. "Or at least, not when they get married."
"Huh." He looked thoughtful, swinging their hands. "Seems like a pretty stupid way to do things."
"My mom says that most of the time in Gilan, it's about politics. That's where she's from, actually, she didn't move to Tira until she was a teenager. I get why that would be the case, but I think it's stupid, too, and so does she." She bit her lip. "If my dad had thought that way he wouldn't have married my mom."
"Then it's a good thing he didn't. I doubt Edward, my...grandfather, or Vladimir would have approved of my mom either, if Dad had told them about her."
She smiled. "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing for both of us they didn't."
"Guess so!"
Carrie looked back at the road in front of them, but the smile stayed on her face. Talking to Dean about it-the only person she'd opened up to that much, except for her mother-was so effortless. She had barely thought twice about mentioning her father. It was unexpected, but wonderful.
As they approached the town, Dean slowed almost imperceptibly, a slightly nervous look skittering across his face. "What's the matter?" she asked him.
"Are you going to tell your mom? About me? And Dad?" he asked.
Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. "Well, if you and I are going to be...you know, together...I have to tell my mom. And if we stay together she's going to have to know about your dad sooner or later. But I won't tell her...now, anyway...if you don't want me to."
He shrugged. "You can, just...want to be prepared, you know?"
"Course."
"Thanks." He grinned. "This might seem odd, but your mom intimidates me a little, although I realize this is probably because I've only met her once."
Carrie laughed and began to tug him along again. "Don't worry. She likes you."
"She does?" he said, blinking in surprise but not fighting her tugging, instead jogging a bit to catch up.
"Yeah, she does." She smirked. "She said, and I quote, 'He's a nice boy and I'm glad you've made a new friend here so quickly.'"
That set him blinking even more, as if he wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "She called me a nice boy? I don't think I've ever been called a 'nice boy.'"
She stopped, turned, and looked him full in the face without ever letting go of his hand. "Dean," she said firmly, "you are absolutely the nicest boy I've known in my life."
He took a half-step back almost automatically. "I...am?" he said, sounding dumbfounded.
"Yes. You are."
"Oh. Uh, thanks?"
She shook her head. "Don't thank me, it's just true."
That startled a smile out of him. "Still. C'mon, we wait much longer and that manure might not come out," he said lightly.
"Ew, yes." She hurriedly started walking again, and Dean stuck to her side, all hesitation gone.
Noticing this, Carrie allowed herself a little quirk of the lip where he couldn’t see.
Story: The Dragon World and Nothing is Ever Easy
Challenge: Butter Pecan 8 (sweet), Red Currant 12 (high tide) [Marina]; Butter Rum 11 (weigh anchor), Pineapple 23 (you know you want to) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Brownie, Peaches (Working toward goals you share with others could bring you closer together as friends and lovers), Smoothie [both] Malt (Easter Egg prompt from Nath: “I have no idea where this will lead us. But I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.” - Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks) [Marina]
Word Count: 5,807
Rating: PG
Summary: A Tale of Two First Dates
Notes: For Prom Weekend! It was immediately obvious to us which characters we were going to end up writing about, and then Casey came up with the idea that we should write a first date for both universes. So here they are: a pair of completely different and somewhat odd first dates for Carrie and Dean.
Dean lounged on the couch, watching the rain ping against the window and sort of working on homework. It was unusual for him to have plans on the weekend, so he often spent his Saturdays on schoolwork, but the grey skies outside gave him such a cozy, lethargic feeling that he couldn’t concentrate very well. The words in his textbook blurred as he grew drowsier and drowsier. Finally, he put it down and closed his eyes, just for a minute.
He startled back awake when the phone rang and reached over to snag the receiver, not wanting to distract his dad, who was out in the garage working on a new bookcase. "Hello?"
"Dean!" The sound of Carrie's voice on the other end sent a little thrill up his spine, and he couldn't help grinning. "Are you busy?"
He glanced down at the history textbook in his lap. "I suppose technically I have homework but there's tomorrow too. Why?" he asked, trying to sound cool and collected and not at all sure he managed either.
"You should come over and jump in puddles with me!"
Dean pulled the phone briefly away from his ear and stared at it in confusion. "Jump in puddles?" he repeated, having expected just about anything but that.
"Yes!" she affirmed, with no hesitation. "Just a bit, cause it's fun, and then we can hang out for a while after if you want."
"Do I..." he trailed off, feeling foolish. "Do you need something special to jump in puddles?" He felt as if he should have rain boots or something, but what self-respecting teenage guy owned those?
"Good shoes and something waterproof if you can," said Carrie. "Unless you don't mind getting really wet, or you want to bring a change of dry clothes with you."
He tried very, very hard to keep his mind out of the gutter. "I can handle that. Any particular time? I'll probably get Dad to drive me over."
"Just whenever. But a soonish whenever?"
"I'm sure I can do that. I'll be over as soon as I can drag Dad out of his newest project," Dean said wryly.
"Sounds great! I'll wait for you." She hung up.
He shook his head, replaced the receiver, and dumped his textbook on the table. It took him about five minutes to locate a pair of sandals he didn’t mind getting wet, pack a change of clothes, and collect his raincoat before he bounded down to talk to his dad.
Talking to Sorin when he got into one of his 'must build' moods sometimes wasn't easy, but today his father looked up as soon as Dean entered the makeshift workshop. "Planning on going out in this?" he asked at the sight of his son in a raincoat.
"Carrie invited me over and I was hoping you could give me a ride," he asked, giving his father his very best 'please' smile.
Sorin glanced at his project and then nodded. "Sure, let me just-"
Dean passed him his keys, wallet and jacket. "Now?" he prompted. His father laughed and headed for the door.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside Carrie's house. She was waiting on the porch steps, wearing neither a coat nor solid shoes. Upon seeing the car, she grinned widely and jumped to her feet. Dean grabbed his backpack as he hopped out of the car. "See you, Dad!" he said, and then bounded up the front walk to Carrie.
She gave him a quick, tight hug when he reached her. "Hey! Let's put your backpack inside and then do this fast before the rain stops." He checked to make sure his dad had pulled away and then had to grin in return. Carrie took his bag, dropped it just inside the front door, and then grabbed his hand. "Come on."
"I feel overdressed," Dean pointed out, though he made no effort to fight back against her tugging.
"I've been doing this for years." She shot him a little smirk as she pulled him down the steps after her. "I mean, feel free to ditch your raincoat whenever, it's not mandatory, but I felt you should be prepared just in case you don't like puddles as much as I do."
"I'm not sure how my raincoat is going to help with puddles particularly," he said and then made a face. "Just because I had a deprived childhood does not mean you should mock me."
"Might I point out that it is still raining? That is also water, and would be what the coat is for." Her shirt and jeans, already dotted with fat raindrops, proved that point.
He quickly dragged his gaze back up to her face, hoping the gloominess hid the reddening of his cheeks. "You're mocking me again. Or maybe more..."
She stuck out her tongue a bit. "I wasn't, before, but just now I might've been. A little bit." At this, they reached the curb, and she let go of his hand and plunged right into a deep puddle with an excited squee.
Dean watched her for a second, unable to help laughing. Her exuberance and complete lack of shame shocked him somewhat, even though it should not have, after she had posed the idea in the first place. A gut feeling told him that he should probably get used to it-as usual, her excitement was contagious.
She spun in a circle as she continued to hop, the splashes making dark marks on her jeans. He hesitated a moment longer before shucking his raincoat and bouncing over to join her. For a moment, he wondered why she hadn't called Chase, then decided he didn't particularly care why.
Carrie looked up at the sound of his first splash and laughed when she saw that his coat was gone. She playfully kicked some water at him. He wrinkled his nose, but jumped hard into a puddle right next to her. She cackled evilly. "Yes, dance my puppet, dance! Or is it 'hop, puppet, hop' in this case?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that really how you want to play this?" he asked teasingly.
"What do you mean by that?" She lifted her eyebrows, not quite managing total innocence.
He affected a bit of a swagger, putting his fists on his hips. "I'm nobody's puppet," he said, although his unwanted inner voice informed him that he was completely Carrie's puppet.
She snickered. "Of course not. You're still not hopping, though!" With that, she snatched both his hands and went straight back to it. He was a bit distantly embarrassed to discover he really couldn't resist it, hopping right along with her into the deepest puddles they could find.
They jumped and skipped their way to the end of the block and stopped at the corner to catch their breath, thoroughly soaked. Carrie pushed her matted bangs and strands from her pigtails out of her face. "Wasn't that awesome?"
"In more ways than one," Dean said, grinning, shaking himself and spraying water everywhere.
"Ewww!" Carrie laughed and backed away a bit. "You're like a wet dog!"
"That's the point! I figured you deserved something in return for calling me your puppet."
She shoved his shoulder. "I was joking!" He laughed and made as if he was going to shake on her again. "Ack, no!" she cried, quickly leaping back a couple of paces to the relative safety of a nearby tree.
"Gotcha," he said, with some relish.
"You're terrible." She crossed her arms and tried to look indignant, but an involuntary shiver prevented it. "I think I'm puddled out. Let's go back to the house where it's warm."
Dean felt a chill emanating up from his wet feet, and nodded. "Good idea," he said. Without thinking about it, he offered his hand. She took it with a smile and began to lead the way back.
At the house, Eva let them in with a knowing grimace and gave them each a towel. "You change out of those wet clothes immediately, miss," she said imperiously to Carrie. "Dean, did she tell you that you might need a change of clothes?"
"Yeah, I've got them in my bag," Dean said, with a smile. He had instinctively liked Eva from day one. Pulling the towel around his shoulders, he nodded his thanks, scooped up his bag, and headed for the bathroom to change.
When he came out, he spotted Carrie walking out of another door, already changed into dry clothes and pulling a towel turban off her head. "You done with your towel?" she asked. "Let me have it and I'll toss it in the laundry room."
He tossed it to her. "All yours," he told her, patting down his own haphazardly toweled mane.
"Thank ye kindly." She gave her scalp one last vigorous rub and then flung both towels through another doorway. "Right then! How does hot chocolate sound? Mom's also got some coffee if you like that."
"Hot chocolate would be excellent."
"Outstanding." She skipped to the kitchen, and Dean followed with considerable amusement and a spark of glee in the pit of his stomach.
Eva provided them with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate the second they walked through the door. "Thanks, Mom," Carrie beamed, accepting hers.
"Thanks, Eva," Dean echoed. Her name still stalled on his tongue slightly, but she had already insisted to him enough times that that was what she preferred for him to want to argue.
"You're welcome. You two can take those into the living room if you're careful."
Carrie grinned at her mother. "I am always careful."
"A likely story," Eva said, looking amused. Dean snorted, trying to bite back laughter and potential comments.
Carrie poked him. "You shush."
"I said nothing!" He clutched his hot chocolate perhaps a bit more dramatically than necessary.
"You were thinking it!"
"Okay, okay." Eva made shooing motions with her hands. "Begone and do not spill, or you will face my wrath."
"Thinking it is not the same thing," Dean said righteously, shooting Eva a smile.
Carrie shook her head at him with narrowed eyes and waggled a mock-judging finger as they crossed into the living room.
"Don't shake your head at me!"
"Don't you think things about me!"
There was absolutely nothing Dean could do to prevent the blush that spread across his face at that.
Carrie set her mug on a coaster on the coffee table, and produced another for him. She looked up, opening her mouth to make another comment, but stopped when she saw how red he was. "Um," she said, coloring a little bit herself, "are you okay?"
He quickly busied himself putting his mug in the very center of his coaster. "Yup, just fine," he said, unable to help his voice rising just a bit higher than usual.
"You can think good things about me," she said quickly. "Just not...bad...ones."
If anything, he reddened further at that. "I, um, promise they're good," he said, clearing his throat. "So, uh, how about that weather?"
Carrie's face darkened to a visible scarlet, something of a feat for her since she had a much darker complexion than Dean’s. "What did I say? I don't get it."
"Jeez, Care," he muttered, running a distracted hand through his still damp hair, making it stand on end. "You told me not to think things about you." He shifted, staring avidly at his mug. "S'kinda hard not to sometimes," he finished, very softly, to avoid Eva hearing him from the kitchen.
She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, God, I am so sorry."
He wrinkled his nose. "I know you didn't mean it that way but you caught me off guard."
"You just have a dirty mind," she teased, with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Guilty as charged," he said, taking a sip of hot chocolate. "But then again, I'm a teenaged guy. It comes with..." he paused, thinking of Chase. "It usually comes with the territory."
"Well, guys don't have the monopoly on it. It's pretty common in teenage girls, too."
Dean felt himself start to smile. "Yeah?" he asked, glancing up at her finally.
Carrie looked a little appalled that she had actually admitted it, but finally came up with a relaxed smile. "Yeah. That 'guys are dirtier than girls' thing is a myth."
"I always was a bit skeptical about that."
"Well, now you know." She grinned. "I am here to enlighten you!"
"I'm obviously lucky to have a great teacher," he said. "Learning about puddle jumping and the dirty minds of girls all on the same day. Who could ask for more?"
"And I'm incredibly lucky to have a student who won't judge me," she replied.
"I would never dream of such a thing," Dean said solemnly.
Carrie plunked down into a seat on the couch, patted the cushion next to her, and reached for her mug. "Good. That would be unfortunate."
"It would," he said, sitting next to her. As he settled in, he was careful not to brush against her, although he wanted to badly. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and shot him an amused yet pleased glance over the rim of the cup, but she wasn’t careful enough and a little dribble escaped over her lip.
Dean smiled and carefully reached over, using his thumb to wipe it away. Then he realized just what he’d done and brought his hand back toward him, afraid he'd overstepped. Carrie's fingers closed around his wrist to stop him. A slow blush crept over her face again, but she maintained eye contact even as she slowly leaned over to set her hot chocolate safely out of the way. Dean found himself swallowing, glad his own mug was already down.
"Um." Her grip tightened a little. "Is it okay if I..."
Instead of answering, Dean reached up with his free hand, carefully and then leaned in. He was a bit tentative as their lips met, but Carrie took him by the shoulder and pulled him toward her without hesitating. He had absolutely no problem with that, scooting closer to her on the couch and momentarily forgetting all about her mom in the other room.
Much as he wanted to continue, he let Carrie break the kiss when she began to pull away again several seconds later. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again, finally settling on an embarrassed chuckle. He smiled cautiously. "Was that, um...okay?" he settled on.
She snorted. "Not that I'm any judge, cause I've never...yeah, but it was good." She began to grin until her eyes shifted away to a spot over his shoulder and widened in sudden panic.
Dean glanced that way to see Eva peeking around the kitchen doorway. He flushed bright red, desperately hoping she hadn't seen anything. "Uh, hi, Eva."
"Hi, Dean." Eva seemed amused, which relieved him somewhat. Instead of making any further comments, she locked eyes with her daughter for a moment and raised a significant eyebrow. Carrie nodded sheepishly, and Eva nonchalantly crossed into the front hall with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water in tow.
Dean glanced back at Carrie. "At least it wasn't Chase?" he ventured.
She laughed, a little too loudly. "I don't even want to think about what Chase is going to say. Mom and I already had the 'discussion' about this stuff. She was just...reminding me, in her own way."
"Hopefully we can avoid Chase knowing for a long time?"
Carrie dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "Nah, he'll never forgive me. I'll have to tell him. But...I really don't want to be worrying about that right now."
Dean was more than happy to abandon that particular topic. "So, can we do this again sometime?"
"Absolutely," she said, smiling.
"All of it?" he said, with a bit of a wicked grin.
She put on an innocent expression. "Well, the puddle jumping will have to wait until it rains again…"
"And the rest?" His grin widened.
"Oh, I suppose." Carrie tried to affect an indifferent air, but she was blushing too hard for that to work.
Dean leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek. "Should we watch a movie or play a game or something?"
She smiled. "Sounds awesome. I'll show you where the movies are and we can pick one."
As they perused the extensive “movie cupboard” next to the entertainment center, Dean slipped an arm around Carrie’s waist and smiled widely when she leaned into him instead of pulling away. “How’s Pirates sound?” she asked, holding up the box.
“Perfect,” he said.
***
It took six trips to get all the buckets up to her designated perch. Carrie had thought, at first, that she could wear them on her shoulders as she climbed, but that quickly proved to be problematic as the contents began to spill onto her dress before she could get too far. Climbing the tree one-handed and trying to balance the heavy weight required twisting her body in ways it wasn’t meant to go, and she almost fell a couple of times, but she managed it. When she had secured the sixth bucket in a crevice next to the fork she had picked to sit in, she smiled with immense smugness. Karl would never, in a million years, expect this.
She climbed down from the tree and landed neatly next to Dean. "All set," she reported. "The buckets are staying pretty good, and I can see the road from up there, but they won’t spot me right away."
"Are you sure about this? It could be dangerous," he said, absently patting the knife on his belt.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. First, those jerks did way worse to you, we're not even giving them half what they actually deserve." Thinking about it still made her insides burn. She hadn’t liked Karl or Richard or any of the others since the very beginning, but she had never guessed that they could be so cruel. Dean probably never would have told her, either, if she hadn’t been involved. "Second, no one gets to control who I hang out with, and third, I'll be in a tree and I'm a great climber. I'd like to see them try to follow me that high."
"Just had to ask!" Dean said, holding up his hands in defense and grinning.
"Yeah, yeah." She smiled back. "You just be careful, okay, I don't want you to have to use that." She pointed to the knife.
"They wouldn't stand a chance if I did," he said, without any overt pride in the fact, and glanced upward to check on the buckets.
His certainty made her pause for a moment, suddenly curious. She crossed her arms and eyed both him and the weapon. "Have you ever tried it?"
"Tried what? Used the knife on them?"
"Yeah, that."
Dean blinked and looked back at her. "Well, no. That wouldn't be fair."
Carrie nodded, relaxing a little bit. "I kind of thought you thought that way. I don't know if it'd be a good thing if they knew you knew how to, but...at the same time, it'd give them second thoughts. I don't know. Beside the point."
"Yeah, they're usually just a nuisance." He shrugged. "So they usually set up shop within the next half an hour, so I should be able to flush 'em out as soon as they get there."
She debated arguing that anything that left bruises was more than just a nuisance, but decided against it. They didn't have very much time left to get ready. "Okay. I'll climb back up and wait."
He took her arm to stop her. "Carrie? Thanks. This means a lot," he said, earnestly and a bit awkwardly.
Feeling heat in her cheeks, she quickly threw her arms around his neck-forgetting how bad her clothes smelled for a moment-and hugged him tightly so he wouldn't see. "Shut up, it's not a big deal. 'sides, it's not just about you."
He hugged her back. "I know, but still. Never..." He cleared his throat. "Never had someone not family willing to do this kind of thing."
"Well, I like you, so..." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and pulled away. "You'd better go get ready or you won't be in the right spot before they get there," she said.
"If you insist," he said, looking a little bit happily dazed. Carrie couldn't help a silly grin herself as she watched him hurry to his designated position.
When he had disappeared into the trees, she turned back and began the task of climbing twenty feet back to her fork and the buckets. Without the weight of their mud mixture fighting against her, it was much easier, but her hands were blistered and scratched from the earlier trips. She tried to ignore the pain, thinking of Dean's injuries. It would be more than worth it if they could get Karl's gang to back off.
The plan had been her idea, for the most part. Dean had to travel down a long, tree-lined lane to visit her in town, and Karl and the others liked to hide in the densest cluster to stop him from going. Carrie and Dean had decided that the only way to surprise them was to get there earlier. They had been up since before the sunrise, mixing their brew and picking the attack location. Carrie's tree stood just over one hundred yards from Karl’s usual stakeout. Dean would pretend to take his usual walk down to her mother's inn, but instead of turning around when the bullies showed up, he would start running, hopefully leading them right into Carrie's fire.
She settled herself in the fork and reached for the first bucket. The smell of manure in the mixture made her wrinkle her nose, but also gave her a tremendous amount of satisfaction, and she mentally thanked Dean for that brilliant addition.
Several minutes passed in silence. Just when she started to zone out, she heard the voices of the entire gang, joking and horsing around as they got into position.
Carrie rolled her eyes. She almost felt sorry for them-at least she had better things to do with her time than skulk around in the woods all day. "Come on, Dean," she muttered, listening carefully.
A loud, self-confident whistle suddenly cut across the noise. The group instantly silenced as the sound of Dean kicking carelessly at stones reached her. She peered through the branches and had to grin. That flagrant "defiance" would have Karl out and after Dean in no time at all. She hefted the bucket more securely into her arms.
A moment later, the bullies made their move, swarming out of the trees towards Dean. He pretended a touch of surprise and then turned and sprinted towards town before they could completely block his path. She scooted forward a bit in the fork. As he raced by, she made a snap calculation: the fastest runners were no more than ten yards behind him, and she would have to make her move a second or two before they would reach her, to get the timing just right. Carrie counted a beat, overturned the first bucket, and hung it on a nearby branch as she reached for another.
The first round hit the frontrunners square over their heads, bringing them to a shambling, confused stop. She didn't waste any time in dumping out the next bucket as well as a third, knowing they would soon spot her.
It took the third volley before they smartened up and looked skyward. Carrie beamed and waved at them. "Hello!" she called, right before she sent the fourth load down.
"What the fuck?" exploded from underneath her, followed closely by Dean's laughter.
"Do you like my concoction? We brewed it ourselves at Dean's. Mud mixed with just a hint of horse crap." She grinned. "Okay, maybe more than just a hint."
Two or three of them turned toward Dean furiously, and he made an elaborate show of shrugging. "We have a lot of horses." He scratched at his chin for a second. "And I don't appreciate being jumped."
Karl pushed his way to the front of the pack, as filthy and angry as the rest of them. "This isn't over, Bastard Boy," he snarled.
"How many times do I have to explain that I'm not?" Dean said patiently.
"Shut your mouth, Karl," Carrie snapped. "You guys are assholes. You have no right to pick on Dean, who's never done anything to you, and you have no right to tell either of us not to hang out with each other. As far as I'm concerned, this is the least of what you deserve, and I'm willing to do it again every damn day until you back off." To prove her point, she flung the contents of the fifth bucket and reached for the last. This time, they scattered away from her perch, so she held off on the final attack.
Karl glared up at her furiously and started to bend as if to find something on the ground to throw at her, but Dean took a step towards them. "Here's the deal, Karl," he said, voice still the epitome of patience. "You and I, well, you're never going to be able to stop being a dumbass, so we're always going to have problems and that's cool with me. It helps me keep my skills sharp. But you and Richard leave the rest of the world out of it, just like we did as kids, or you're going to go about constantly smelling of manure. Do we have an understanding?"
The two boys in charge glared at him, but after a few seconds, Karl straightened again and nodded. "Yeah, we got an understanding."
"Good," said Carrie, resuming a sunny expression. "Now get out of here and take a bath or it's going to stay with you all day."
"They take baths?" Dean asked and then grinned at the boys, even as he stepped aside, gesturing for them all to pass. Even though he seemed relaxed, Carrie didn't miss him dropping his hand to his knife, as they started to shuffle by. She watched apprehensively until they were all out of her vision.
Dean approached her tree, but didn't get too close, standing well clear of the splatter area. He glanced over his shoulder. "I think you're safe to come down."
"Okay." She put the remaining full bucket aside and gathered up the empty ones. "Can I toss these down to you?"
He wrinkled his nose a bit, edging forward. "I guess so."
Carrie let the first one drop down. As he caught it, a couple of spurts flew out onto his face. She covered her mouth to hide her giggles. "This is not funny!" he said, with just the barest hint of a whine to it, while he set the bucket on the ground and tugged his shirt up to wipe at his face.
"It is a little bit funny," she replied, unabashed. "Since, y'know, I'm covered with the stuff from getting it up here in the first place."
"Okay," he admitted grudgingly, "maybe a bit. Toss the next one."
His face and shirt were both casualties of the next four deposits, but he did not bother to wipe off his face after the first one. Then, Carrie climbed down, and he skirted the splash zone to help her lower the last bucket down. She handed it off gratefully once she was near enough. "My shoulders are going to be aching for a week."
He set it down out of the way and hopped aside. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly.
"Don't be. It was worth it." Even as she rubbed her shoulders and upper arms, she gave him a beatific grin. "Did you see their faces?"
He matched it. "It was perfect! I never could have pulled off that good revenge on my own."
She offered her hand for a high-five, which he returned. "You're welcome. Now let's get these buckets back to yours and then go to my mom's so I can change."
Dean hefted the full bucket without any visible effort and waited until she'd grabbed the stack of empty ones. They fell into step easily as they headed back towards his house.
Upon their return to the barn, Carrie dumped out the last bucket and began to rinse them off while Dean washed his face and put on a fresh shirt. He reappeared a few minutes later. "Is your mom going to be angry at the fact you…" here he paused, obviously trying to stifle a smile, "smell?"
She paused to consider it. "Uh...she probably thinks I've outgrown playing in the mud, but as long as I get my dress washed right away it won't be a big deal. Was your dad mad?"
"I think Dad and Russ figure it's long overdue. I'm pretty sure they spent most of the time we were gone giggling like little children and wishing they could have come."
"Your dad and Russ rock." She tossed the last bucket on top of the clean stack. "Okay, done."
Dean grinned. "Yeah, they do," he agreed happily. "C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up too."
Carrie smiled and began to offer him her hand before she thought better of it. "Sorry, I'm still nasty, so I'd better not touch you until I fix that."
He took it anyway before she could protest further. "Hands can be washed."
She stuck her tongue out, but squeezed his hand as they began to walk. "Can I ask you something?"
He looked a bit cautious, as he always did about questions, but nodded. "Sure."
"About...that." She gestured to his knife. "How did you learn how to use it?"
"Mostly it's because Dad wanted me to know how to protect myself, in case of an emergency, but I wanted to too. You know, wanted to be big and strong and capable like Dad and Russ." He rubbed his nose with his free hand. "They started teaching me once my aunt Ani moved out, because she didn't want them to."
"Yeah, I can see why, if those guys were always harassing you like that."
"Those dumbasses have been the least of my worries a few times," he said.
She glanced at him. "Your aunt...that's Queen Anica, right?"
He nodded. "Yup, she married Ren back when Dad and Vladimir were still running things."
"I remember." It was one of her first clear memories-not just Anica’s marriage to Renier, but most of the major events of the last year of the war. Mostly, she remembered her mother’s fear, but she didn’t like thinking about that part. "Everyone was talking about it. You can't live in a busy hostel and not hear about that stuff pretty much constantly."
He rubbed his nose again. "Dad wouldn't have let it happen if they hadn't loved each other," he said, a bit defensively.
Carrie frowned. "I didn't say they didn't. It's actually kind of obvious they do, which is great cause it's not common with royalty."
Dean ducked his head. "Sorry, it's hard sometimes, you know, balancing being Dad's son with what he did and what a lot of people think of him."
"Dean, I already said I don't care."
"I know and I know trying to act like I can protect him is silly too," he said, and then he brought up his head to look at her with an almost hungry look she was already familiar with. "So most royalty doesn't usually love each other?"
"That's what it seems like," she said, suddenly feeling very tentative. "Or at least, not when they get married."
"Huh." He looked thoughtful, swinging their hands. "Seems like a pretty stupid way to do things."
"My mom says that most of the time in Gilan, it's about politics. That's where she's from, actually, she didn't move to Tira until she was a teenager. I get why that would be the case, but I think it's stupid, too, and so does she." She bit her lip. "If my dad had thought that way he wouldn't have married my mom."
"Then it's a good thing he didn't. I doubt Edward, my...grandfather, or Vladimir would have approved of my mom either, if Dad had told them about her."
She smiled. "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing for both of us they didn't."
"Guess so!"
Carrie looked back at the road in front of them, but the smile stayed on her face. Talking to Dean about it-the only person she'd opened up to that much, except for her mother-was so effortless. She had barely thought twice about mentioning her father. It was unexpected, but wonderful.
As they approached the town, Dean slowed almost imperceptibly, a slightly nervous look skittering across his face. "What's the matter?" she asked him.
"Are you going to tell your mom? About me? And Dad?" he asked.
Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. "Well, if you and I are going to be...you know, together...I have to tell my mom. And if we stay together she's going to have to know about your dad sooner or later. But I won't tell her...now, anyway...if you don't want me to."
He shrugged. "You can, just...want to be prepared, you know?"
"Course."
"Thanks." He grinned. "This might seem odd, but your mom intimidates me a little, although I realize this is probably because I've only met her once."
Carrie laughed and began to tug him along again. "Don't worry. She likes you."
"She does?" he said, blinking in surprise but not fighting her tugging, instead jogging a bit to catch up.
"Yeah, she does." She smirked. "She said, and I quote, 'He's a nice boy and I'm glad you've made a new friend here so quickly.'"
That set him blinking even more, as if he wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "She called me a nice boy? I don't think I've ever been called a 'nice boy.'"
She stopped, turned, and looked him full in the face without ever letting go of his hand. "Dean," she said firmly, "you are absolutely the nicest boy I've known in my life."
He took a half-step back almost automatically. "I...am?" he said, sounding dumbfounded.
"Yes. You are."
"Oh. Uh, thanks?"
She shook her head. "Don't thank me, it's just true."
That startled a smile out of him. "Still. C'mon, we wait much longer and that manure might not come out," he said lightly.
"Ew, yes." She hurriedly started walking again, and Dean stuck to her side, all hesitation gone.
Noticing this, Carrie allowed herself a little quirk of the lip where he couldn’t see.