TR 17
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 18 (nobody move), Milk Chocolate 20 (surprise) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 22 (making repairs) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 2,063
Rating: PG-13 (highlight for spoilery warning: child kidnapping)
Summary: Dean and Chase have a talk.
Notes: Madison is based on the town where I grew up and spent most of my pre-college years. If you’ve ever been to Southern California you might be able to guess the general area. Of course, it’s probably not a very close replica since I haven’t lived there in quite some time, but I do have a very specific location in mind as to where Dean, Chase, and Carrie’s houses would be. (This is relevant, I promise!) In other news: Dean actually stands up for himself a bit here! Sometimes I think he’s a bit too understanding.
On Friday, the little group met up at the Poppe Shoppe as planned. The tension simmered between them all afternoon. Carrie barely acknowledged Resh, who slunk about like a puppy with his tail between his legs. The other three girls tried to act like everything was hunky dory and Chase...well, Chase was Chase, in a more subdued manner than normal. Dean usually rejoiced in any chance to go out with his friends, but today he only felt uncomfortable.
Sidney's phone rang around four-thirty, interrupting the awkwardness momentarily. "Oh," she exclaimed, a little bit too loudly. "It's Kevin. I'll be right back." She quickly retreated to the alcove leading to the restrooms.
Dean decided that he had had enough of the awkwardness. "I should probably be getting home," he announced. Chase mumbled something unintelligible in response and reached for his backpack.
Carrie nodded in understanding and slight disappointment. "Mom will want me home for dinner soon, too."
He glanced at her. They hadn't talked about their phone conversation the previous night, but Dean felt relieved that at least she hadn't run screaming afterward, considering his white lie about Edward. He made a mental note to force himself to talk about it with her soon, just to make sure they really were okay. Then he smiled. "See you Monday then. You too, guys."
"Yeah," Resh mumbled, slumped down in the seat next to Kenz.
"Have a good evening," Kenz added, while Nicole waved. Chase returned the wave, then made a beeline for the door. Carrie caught up her bag and followed, frowning.
Dean waited a second or two to follow, figuring he'd let them go ahead so he wasn't in the way. By the time he made it outside, however, they were still standing by the bike rack. "You sure you can't come over for dinner?" Carrie asked, seeming a little desperate.
Chase shook his head. "Laura's got a long weekend and she's spending the night here on her way down to something she's doing with the music department. I'll come over tomorrow."
She nodded. "Okay. See you then." She clipped her helmet on, mounted her bike, and took off in the direction of her house. He looked after her for a moment before moving to undo his bike lock.
Dean slid over and silently went to work on getting his bike free, not liking the wall that had sprung up between them but having no idea how to break it. Chase glanced at him a couple of times, but otherwise did not acknowledge his presence. "Chase," Dean started, and then stopped, not sure what to say.
"What?"
He sighed slightly and turned to face the smaller boy. "I don't want to ruin yours and Carrie's friendship or even yours and mine over this. I like Carrie a lot, but the friendships are more important."
Chase scowled. "Carrie and I are still gonna be friends."
The curt statement sparked a touch of obstinacy in Dean. He mulled it over, absorbing the insinuation in it, and set his jaw. "Good. Fine, that's all I wanted to say," he said, turning his back and busying himself with his bike.
The activity next to him stopped. He ignored it, concentrating on getting his lock undone and looping it up. He had just begun to pull his bike out of the rack when Chase spoke. "Laura says I shouldn't be mad," he said, very quietly and shakily.
Dean looked up to see a version of Chase he never had before. The boy’s behavior had hinted at a troubled, even haunted hidden nature; it was now out in full. Chase did not look straight at him. He had his eyes covered with one hand, and clutched his helmet tightly to his chest with the other arm. "I talked to my sister last night," he went on, "and she said I shouldn't be mad but I'm so mad and it's stupid but I can't help it."
Dean bit his lip. "I'm sorry. We were going to tell you soon, but we...we wanted a few days to feel our way and make sure that it was what we wanted." He was tempted to offer to let Chase hit him, or something like that, but he felt certain that it wasn't a very Chase thing to do and wouldn’t fix anything if it were.
"I believe you," he said quietly.
Dean nodded uncertainly as he tugged his bike out the rest of the way, but made no other attempt to move. Chase put his hand down, revealing that his eyes were red. "Sorry. You're my friend, too. I just...it's gonna be different now."
"Doesn't have to be very different," Dean said cautiously. "I mean, yeah, Carrie and I'll want to hang out alone sometimes, but you two are still the best friends in this deal."
Chase shook his head. "It'll still be different. Carrie likes you. She wants to have a boyfriend and stuff. I don't, and I don't know if I ever will."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
He shrugged. "It's still gonna change things."
"I know." Dean looked down at his feet. "If you...I mean, I could just...not. I don't want to ruin anything."
"S'not you. Sides, Carrie'd be mad at me if I told you not to date her."
He risked a quick glance up. "She'd get over it," he said, although he was fairly certain from what he knew of her that that would take a very long time.
Chase shot him a death glare more forceful than the foulest swear word. "No," he said.
He grinned crookedly. "Yes, sir," he said, more relieved than he cared to say.
Turning back to his own bike lock, Chase started to undo the combination. His fingers fumbled over the numbers several times, but he got right back at it, eyebrows furrowed in determination. "That'd be even stupider than I'm being. Plus Carrie would kill both of us."
Dean had to admit he had a point about Carrie and said as much. Chase spared him a look that said 'I told you so' and went back to the lock. "She didn't, um, tell you what happened in the bathroom, did she? At Resh's house," he stammered, cheeks flaring red.
He blinked. "No, of course not and I didn't ask."
"Okay." Chase relaxed visibly, and did not elaborate.
Though he was curious, Dean let it go. Chase’s issues were his own business. I can deal with him being cryptic, he thought. It’s not like I haven’t been this whole time. He did not like leaving things there, though. It was likely to be at least the weekend before he saw Chase again, and things were still too edgy between them. "Want to walk home?" he asked, on impulse.
The other boy hesitated. "I only live a couple blocks from here, the other way from Carrie," he said, pointing. "Where's your house?"
"Same direction, but I turn off in two streets and go another two blocks home."
"'kay, I'll walk you as far as my house."
Dean smiled quickly. "Awesome." Chase smiled slightly back and pulled his bike from the rack.
***
The Poppe Shoppe sat on the busiest street in town. When Chase and Dean turned into the residential area, their surroundings became much quieter. Except for the occasional passing car, all they could hear was the quiet rustle of leaves blown by the light wind. Chase thought idly that he should have brought a sweater with him that day.
Dean took a deep breath. "Fall," he said happily.
"Is that your favorite season?" Chase asked, glancing sidelong at his companion.
"Yeah, even if I don't like winter all that much. I love the feel of the weather and, you know, fall activities and things."
It suddenly occurred to him that there were a lot of little things about Dean that he didn’t know, but that his friends already seemed to. Feeling guilty that he hadn’t paid enough attention, he swallowed his initial hesitation and asked, "Like what?"
"Apple picking and carving pumpkins and stuff like that." Dean paused in thought. "I suppose, though, that apples don't grow around here?"
Chase raised his eyebrows. "No, we live two miles away from the ocean. Palm trees grow here."
"Yeah, figured as much. Oh well, Dad and I haven't gotten to go apple picking in a few years anyway." He grinned briefly, almost sheepishly. "I tried to climb a palm tree the other day. Didn't work so well."
"You tried to climb a palm tree," Chase repeated, staring at him.
Dean shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm sure I could figure out how to get to the top if I put my mind to it."
Chase could not imagine it. The palm trees in Madison were very, very tall, and their outsides were very rough. Trying to climb them-or pull himself up them, more accurately-had proven to be much more trouble than it was worth in the past. "I tried it when I was maybe five? We used to have one growing in the backyard, but they cut it down."
"How'd it go?"
"The cutting or the climbing?"
"The climbing," Dean said, then eyed him. "Unless there's a cool story related to the cutting."
Chase snorted. "People came with saws and cut it. Our house did not get crushed. That's about it." He considered it. He only had a vague memory of the experience, only that it had been hard and that it had hurt. "I didn't get very far."
"I didn't either," the other boy said cheerfully. "But I just need to figure out how to try again."
He made a face. "Seems like it'd be pretty painful to try to get up it. I don't think I'd want to do it again."
"Well, you just need the right equipment, I'm sure,” said Dean, clinically. “I'll let you know how it goes."
Chase wondered briefly if Dean was secretly a masochist. "You sound like you're gonna climb a mountain, not a palm tree."
"I figure that's how I need to approach it if..." he trailed off, eyes sliding past Chase's face to a point over his shoulder. At the same time, the blood rushed from Dean's face, leaving him completely white. Frowning, Chase turned that way also.
A man strolled casually toward them from around the corner of a nearby building, smiling widely. "Good evening, kids."
Dean made an inarticulate strangled sound in response.
"Dean," Chase said quietly, with growing dread, "who is that?"
The man continued to approach casually. When Dean did not immediately answer, the man did it for him. "I'm Edward. Dean's grandfather."
Chase recoiled, almost tripping backward over his bike. "That’s Edward?" he exclaimed, to Dean, without taking his eyes off the elderly man. Even though his appearance seemed harmless enough, Dean was more afraid of him than he was of Karl, and that did not mean anything good.
He heard Dean swallow hard. "Yes," he managed.
Edward was now only about ten feet away and closing.
There was no time to think. Chase pulled back about half a foot, mounted his bike, and kicked Dean hard in the calf to get him to do the same. Dean jerked into action, clumsily scrambling onto his bike. Chase took off as fast as he could go, narrowly missing Edward as he passed. He hoped, vacantly, that he had run the man's foot over. Dean stayed right with him. In a quick glance behind at the nonexistent traffic, Chase caught a glimpse of his friend’s face and saw that it mirrored his own terror.
A moment later, he heard an engine revving up. Another quick look back revealed a large, black van appearing around the corner they had just passed, manned by Edward. Chase pedaled harder. They were only a block and a half from his house. If they could beat Edward there...
The van passed them a moment later and turned onto the next side street, cutting them off. Edward hopped out with surprising agility and calmly pulled a small gun.
Chase braked hard. Dean almost crashed into him as he also struggled to stop his bike, breathing heavily. Chase barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the gun, his chest tightening in panic.
"Now," Edward said pleasantly. "We can make this easy or hard. Your choice, boys."
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 18 (nobody move), Milk Chocolate 20 (surprise) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 22 (making repairs) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 2,063
Rating: PG-13 (highlight for spoilery warning: child kidnapping)
Summary: Dean and Chase have a talk.
Notes: Madison is based on the town where I grew up and spent most of my pre-college years. If you’ve ever been to Southern California you might be able to guess the general area. Of course, it’s probably not a very close replica since I haven’t lived there in quite some time, but I do have a very specific location in mind as to where Dean, Chase, and Carrie’s houses would be. (This is relevant, I promise!) In other news: Dean actually stands up for himself a bit here! Sometimes I think he’s a bit too understanding.
On Friday, the little group met up at the Poppe Shoppe as planned. The tension simmered between them all afternoon. Carrie barely acknowledged Resh, who slunk about like a puppy with his tail between his legs. The other three girls tried to act like everything was hunky dory and Chase...well, Chase was Chase, in a more subdued manner than normal. Dean usually rejoiced in any chance to go out with his friends, but today he only felt uncomfortable.
Sidney's phone rang around four-thirty, interrupting the awkwardness momentarily. "Oh," she exclaimed, a little bit too loudly. "It's Kevin. I'll be right back." She quickly retreated to the alcove leading to the restrooms.
Dean decided that he had had enough of the awkwardness. "I should probably be getting home," he announced. Chase mumbled something unintelligible in response and reached for his backpack.
Carrie nodded in understanding and slight disappointment. "Mom will want me home for dinner soon, too."
He glanced at her. They hadn't talked about their phone conversation the previous night, but Dean felt relieved that at least she hadn't run screaming afterward, considering his white lie about Edward. He made a mental note to force himself to talk about it with her soon, just to make sure they really were okay. Then he smiled. "See you Monday then. You too, guys."
"Yeah," Resh mumbled, slumped down in the seat next to Kenz.
"Have a good evening," Kenz added, while Nicole waved. Chase returned the wave, then made a beeline for the door. Carrie caught up her bag and followed, frowning.
Dean waited a second or two to follow, figuring he'd let them go ahead so he wasn't in the way. By the time he made it outside, however, they were still standing by the bike rack. "You sure you can't come over for dinner?" Carrie asked, seeming a little desperate.
Chase shook his head. "Laura's got a long weekend and she's spending the night here on her way down to something she's doing with the music department. I'll come over tomorrow."
She nodded. "Okay. See you then." She clipped her helmet on, mounted her bike, and took off in the direction of her house. He looked after her for a moment before moving to undo his bike lock.
Dean slid over and silently went to work on getting his bike free, not liking the wall that had sprung up between them but having no idea how to break it. Chase glanced at him a couple of times, but otherwise did not acknowledge his presence. "Chase," Dean started, and then stopped, not sure what to say.
"What?"
He sighed slightly and turned to face the smaller boy. "I don't want to ruin yours and Carrie's friendship or even yours and mine over this. I like Carrie a lot, but the friendships are more important."
Chase scowled. "Carrie and I are still gonna be friends."
The curt statement sparked a touch of obstinacy in Dean. He mulled it over, absorbing the insinuation in it, and set his jaw. "Good. Fine, that's all I wanted to say," he said, turning his back and busying himself with his bike.
The activity next to him stopped. He ignored it, concentrating on getting his lock undone and looping it up. He had just begun to pull his bike out of the rack when Chase spoke. "Laura says I shouldn't be mad," he said, very quietly and shakily.
Dean looked up to see a version of Chase he never had before. The boy’s behavior had hinted at a troubled, even haunted hidden nature; it was now out in full. Chase did not look straight at him. He had his eyes covered with one hand, and clutched his helmet tightly to his chest with the other arm. "I talked to my sister last night," he went on, "and she said I shouldn't be mad but I'm so mad and it's stupid but I can't help it."
Dean bit his lip. "I'm sorry. We were going to tell you soon, but we...we wanted a few days to feel our way and make sure that it was what we wanted." He was tempted to offer to let Chase hit him, or something like that, but he felt certain that it wasn't a very Chase thing to do and wouldn’t fix anything if it were.
"I believe you," he said quietly.
Dean nodded uncertainly as he tugged his bike out the rest of the way, but made no other attempt to move. Chase put his hand down, revealing that his eyes were red. "Sorry. You're my friend, too. I just...it's gonna be different now."
"Doesn't have to be very different," Dean said cautiously. "I mean, yeah, Carrie and I'll want to hang out alone sometimes, but you two are still the best friends in this deal."
Chase shook his head. "It'll still be different. Carrie likes you. She wants to have a boyfriend and stuff. I don't, and I don't know if I ever will."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
He shrugged. "It's still gonna change things."
"I know." Dean looked down at his feet. "If you...I mean, I could just...not. I don't want to ruin anything."
"S'not you. Sides, Carrie'd be mad at me if I told you not to date her."
He risked a quick glance up. "She'd get over it," he said, although he was fairly certain from what he knew of her that that would take a very long time.
Chase shot him a death glare more forceful than the foulest swear word. "No," he said.
He grinned crookedly. "Yes, sir," he said, more relieved than he cared to say.
Turning back to his own bike lock, Chase started to undo the combination. His fingers fumbled over the numbers several times, but he got right back at it, eyebrows furrowed in determination. "That'd be even stupider than I'm being. Plus Carrie would kill both of us."
Dean had to admit he had a point about Carrie and said as much. Chase spared him a look that said 'I told you so' and went back to the lock. "She didn't, um, tell you what happened in the bathroom, did she? At Resh's house," he stammered, cheeks flaring red.
He blinked. "No, of course not and I didn't ask."
"Okay." Chase relaxed visibly, and did not elaborate.
Though he was curious, Dean let it go. Chase’s issues were his own business. I can deal with him being cryptic, he thought. It’s not like I haven’t been this whole time. He did not like leaving things there, though. It was likely to be at least the weekend before he saw Chase again, and things were still too edgy between them. "Want to walk home?" he asked, on impulse.
The other boy hesitated. "I only live a couple blocks from here, the other way from Carrie," he said, pointing. "Where's your house?"
"Same direction, but I turn off in two streets and go another two blocks home."
"'kay, I'll walk you as far as my house."
Dean smiled quickly. "Awesome." Chase smiled slightly back and pulled his bike from the rack.
***
The Poppe Shoppe sat on the busiest street in town. When Chase and Dean turned into the residential area, their surroundings became much quieter. Except for the occasional passing car, all they could hear was the quiet rustle of leaves blown by the light wind. Chase thought idly that he should have brought a sweater with him that day.
Dean took a deep breath. "Fall," he said happily.
"Is that your favorite season?" Chase asked, glancing sidelong at his companion.
"Yeah, even if I don't like winter all that much. I love the feel of the weather and, you know, fall activities and things."
It suddenly occurred to him that there were a lot of little things about Dean that he didn’t know, but that his friends already seemed to. Feeling guilty that he hadn’t paid enough attention, he swallowed his initial hesitation and asked, "Like what?"
"Apple picking and carving pumpkins and stuff like that." Dean paused in thought. "I suppose, though, that apples don't grow around here?"
Chase raised his eyebrows. "No, we live two miles away from the ocean. Palm trees grow here."
"Yeah, figured as much. Oh well, Dad and I haven't gotten to go apple picking in a few years anyway." He grinned briefly, almost sheepishly. "I tried to climb a palm tree the other day. Didn't work so well."
"You tried to climb a palm tree," Chase repeated, staring at him.
Dean shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm sure I could figure out how to get to the top if I put my mind to it."
Chase could not imagine it. The palm trees in Madison were very, very tall, and their outsides were very rough. Trying to climb them-or pull himself up them, more accurately-had proven to be much more trouble than it was worth in the past. "I tried it when I was maybe five? We used to have one growing in the backyard, but they cut it down."
"How'd it go?"
"The cutting or the climbing?"
"The climbing," Dean said, then eyed him. "Unless there's a cool story related to the cutting."
Chase snorted. "People came with saws and cut it. Our house did not get crushed. That's about it." He considered it. He only had a vague memory of the experience, only that it had been hard and that it had hurt. "I didn't get very far."
"I didn't either," the other boy said cheerfully. "But I just need to figure out how to try again."
He made a face. "Seems like it'd be pretty painful to try to get up it. I don't think I'd want to do it again."
"Well, you just need the right equipment, I'm sure,” said Dean, clinically. “I'll let you know how it goes."
Chase wondered briefly if Dean was secretly a masochist. "You sound like you're gonna climb a mountain, not a palm tree."
"I figure that's how I need to approach it if..." he trailed off, eyes sliding past Chase's face to a point over his shoulder. At the same time, the blood rushed from Dean's face, leaving him completely white. Frowning, Chase turned that way also.
A man strolled casually toward them from around the corner of a nearby building, smiling widely. "Good evening, kids."
Dean made an inarticulate strangled sound in response.
"Dean," Chase said quietly, with growing dread, "who is that?"
The man continued to approach casually. When Dean did not immediately answer, the man did it for him. "I'm Edward. Dean's grandfather."
Chase recoiled, almost tripping backward over his bike. "That’s Edward?" he exclaimed, to Dean, without taking his eyes off the elderly man. Even though his appearance seemed harmless enough, Dean was more afraid of him than he was of Karl, and that did not mean anything good.
He heard Dean swallow hard. "Yes," he managed.
Edward was now only about ten feet away and closing.
There was no time to think. Chase pulled back about half a foot, mounted his bike, and kicked Dean hard in the calf to get him to do the same. Dean jerked into action, clumsily scrambling onto his bike. Chase took off as fast as he could go, narrowly missing Edward as he passed. He hoped, vacantly, that he had run the man's foot over. Dean stayed right with him. In a quick glance behind at the nonexistent traffic, Chase caught a glimpse of his friend’s face and saw that it mirrored his own terror.
A moment later, he heard an engine revving up. Another quick look back revealed a large, black van appearing around the corner they had just passed, manned by Edward. Chase pedaled harder. They were only a block and a half from his house. If they could beat Edward there...
The van passed them a moment later and turned onto the next side street, cutting them off. Edward hopped out with surprising agility and calmly pulled a small gun.
Chase braked hard. Dean almost crashed into him as he also struggled to stop his bike, breathing heavily. Chase barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the gun, his chest tightening in panic.
"Now," Edward said pleasantly. "We can make this easy or hard. Your choice, boys."