Marina/Casey smoothie sundae part 1
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Taking Root (DW/NIEE crossover AU)
Challenge: Coconut 30 (and now for something completely different), Milk Chocolate 6 (courtesy) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 7 (a fresh start) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel (Chase and Dean are in high school), Chopped Nuts (Sorin and Dean don’t belong to the DW universe), Smoothie
Word Count: 2,244
Rating: G
Summary: [September] Chase meets his new Woodshop teacher, and befriends the teacher’s son.
Notes: This is the result of a long line of projects Casey and I have done in the past. The short version is that I once wrote a short story for DW with a character in it that was a caricature of Dean, and recently told her that I wanted to revisit the premise, but with actual Dean (and adding Sorin in the role you see here). Her reaction was basically “ooh I want to help!” so now we’re attempting a Caramel/Chopped Nuts/Smoothie sundae as a for-fun side project from our regular stuff. (We are also counting this toward today's Summer Challenge word count.)
The year Chase turned sixteen was also the first year that his sister did not come home from college for the summer. “I have a really good job opportunity,” she explained, during her visit home for his birthday. “There’s a position open at that recording studio I told you about, and they said it’s mine if I want it. I can’t pass this up.”
Instead of protesting and attempting to chain his sister to the table leg, the way twelve-year-old Chase would have, he simply smiled and congratulated her. He wanted to do exactly the opposite, but squelched the urge. Laura wanted to be a recording artist. As her biggest fan, he had to support her, and he knew that if she took the job, she could get her foot in the door.
He was not so noble that he did not make her promise to continue to call him often before she left, though.
That summer, her calls were his lifelines. Laura phoned him at least twice a week, and between his conversations with her and the near-constant presence of Carrie and Sidney, the emptiness of his house barely bothered him. Toward the end of August, however, he began to grow restless. He had never really liked school, but he craved the familiarity of it. He missed his favorite hangouts, the friends he barely saw in the summer months, and the fun he had had in Woodshop during his first two years of high school.
He and Carrie went together on check-in day to drop off their emergency information, have their junior pictures taken, and pick up their class schedules for the year. “I’m sad you didn’t sign up for any AP classes,” she said, beginning to open hers.
“Yeah, that’s because I’m not suicidal like you,” he teased.
She elbowed him. “We probably won’t have a lot of classes together, that’s all.”
“I know it’s tragic, Care-bear, but I’m sure you’ll survive without me.” He tore open his envelope as he spoke, privately resolving to raise hell if his counselor had left Woodshop off his schedule.
“Right,” Carrie said, with a snort. “You’re the one who won’t know what to do with yourself without me around. Hey, we might have History or Chemistry together, let me see yours-Chase?”
Chase had stopped listening, his eyes fixed on the “Dakamar, S.” printed in thick, black lettering on the end of his fourth-period line. “What.”
***
Carrie immediately ordered him not to panic. The minute she left, he called Laura anyway.
Laura answered on the second ring and immediately agreed to talk to him. Before he could tell her what his problem was, he heard a male voice shout something in the background that made her laugh. “Kevin says hi, by the way. He’s here helping Lindsey and me organize our apartment.”
“Kevin can eat dirt,” Chase said sourly.
“All right, Chasie, what is it?”
He glanced over at his schedule, lying face down on the living room table. “Mr. Walker isn’t teaching Advanced Woodshop this year. I don’t know if he quit, or what, but we have a new teacher.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know how much you liked him.”
“It’s just…I was actually looking forward to going back to school, and I hate school. Woodshop is pretty much the only good thing about it, and now it’s ruined.”
“You don’t know that,” she said gently.
“New teachers are always bad,” he retorted.
“You haven’t even met him or her, Chase. Mr. Walker was new to you too, once-oh for God’s sake.” He heard muffled clanging and raised voices in the background. “Pipe down, you two! You can bicker in a minute when I get off the phone!”
“Good to know they haven’t changed,” Chase said dryly.
Laura sighed. “Tell me about it. Anyway, you don’t know what your new teacher’s going to be like. He or she could be just as awesome. I’m positive you’re still going to love the class and I’m still expecting you to make us an apartment-warming gift.”
He had to smile at that. “Course I will. I just…don’t like it when things are different.”
“I know you don’t, and I don’t either, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Just keep an open mind, okay? You never know.”
“I’ll try.” He would, because he had promised, but did not expect much all the same.
***
The first day turned out to be a Tuesday, and when fourth period came around, Chase walked into the workshop and dropped his backpack on the first bench he came across. It had been his spot the previous year, and he felt comfortable in the seat. Once settled, he looked around, feeling unsure and wishing he were at home in his bed.
The only person in the room old enough to be the teacher upset expectations Chase had not realized he had. Mr. Dakamar stood at Laura’s height, maybe a little taller, and he was a big man-not overweight, just big, with large, weathered hands. He stood next to an immaculately tidy desk, and he was speaking with a boy around Chase’s own age. Chase did not mean to eavesdrop, but he sat close enough to hear some of what the two were saying. "Don't be stupid, Dad," the boy said, with a grin. "It's only my first day, and only halfway through it at that."
Chase's eyes widened at the word "Dad." Mr. Dakamar hardly seemed old enough to have a high-school age son-Chase guessed that he could not be any older than forty, and looked younger-and at first glance, the two hardly looked anything alike. The boy had blond hair instead of his father’s brown, and a much more slender figure. On closer inspection, Chase saw a resemblance, and supposed it must be true. That’s weird, he thought.
"Still, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far," Mr. Dakamar said. Noticing that the classroom had begun to fill up quickly, he reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder, then turned to his desk.
The boy scooped up his bag and headed for the cluster of workbenches. Scanning the remaining seats, he bit his lip, and then turned to Chase. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, gesturing at the seat next to him nervously.
"Nope," Chase said.
"Mind if I do?”
"Yeah, g'head."
"Thanks," he said in obvious relief, plopping down next to Chase. Nodding absently, Chase directed his attention to the teacher.
Mr. Dakamar came around and leaned comfortably against the nearest machine, winking at the boy sitting next to Chase, before turning his attention to the last stragglers. "All right, if everyone could take a seat, we'll start," he said, aiming a smile at the crowd of students. "So, welcome to Advanced Woodshop. I'm hoping you're all here because you want to be and that you have some idea of what you're doing from your other Woodshop classes. I'm Mr. Dakamar and, as most of you probably know or have guessed, this is my first day, so I'd appreciate it if you at least tried to be nice.” Snickers and giggles rippled through the room at this. "I also know that Dakamar can be a bit of a mouthful, so non-derogatory nicknames are okay too." He scanned the group. "Anyone willing to fill me in on some of the things you've done in the past two classes?"
One girl raised her hand. "Mr. Walker taught us how to make things like shelves and chests."
"What else?"
"I made a bench last year," another boy volunteered.
Mr. Dakamar nodded. "Ever add color? Or how about more detailed decoration?" he asked.
"We tried staining once."
"How about anything small?"
The boy next to Chase shifted as if he wanted to comment but bit his lip instead, watching his father closely. Chase eyed him for a short moment before turning back to Mr. Dakamar. "I made a jewelry box for my sister," he said, almost too softly to be heard.
Mr. Dakamar brightened. "Oh, really? That's great! Anyone else?" A few other kids contributed stories of past projects. After a few minutes, he cut them off. "Okay, well, I doubt anyone wants me to talk the whole time, so we're going to get right into it with a small project so I can start to meet all of you and get an idea of where your skills lie. That work for everyone?" All of the students nodded their assent. "Okay. I think it'll be easiest with our space if you work, for today at least, at the same space as the person sitting next to you on the same bench. That should have us use our space well."
Chase glanced over at his new partner again, mentally groaning. That meant he would have to introduce himself. The boy smiled tentatively. "Hi. I'm Dean." He reddened. "Dean Dakamar."
"Chase Mitchell. Nice to meet you."
Dean nodded. "Same," he said quickly, obviously nervous.
Observing his discomfort, Chase decided to set him at ease. "Are you new? I haven't seen you here before, and you should've been in classes with me if you're already in Advanced."
"Yeah, it's my first day," Dean said. "I, um, tested in, I guess, is what they called it."
"How do you test in for Woodshop?"
"Dad, um, vouched for me. I mean, Mr. Dakamar," he hastily corrected himself.
Chase nodded. "So you've done woodworking before?"
"Yeah, a bunch, but mostly small stuff. Working on detail and stuff."
"Small stuff like what?"
"Animals," Dean said, brightening slightly.
"Like figurines? Carving?"
"Yeah, exactly."
This impressed Chase, who had never tried anything of the sort due to his avoidance of knives. "Nice."
"Thanks," Dean said, smiling a little. "I like to think so!"
"How many have you done?"
He rubbed his nose. "A lot. I had a lot of time."
"That's really cool."
"I guess so.”
"I've mostly done larger stuff and presents for my family," Chase said, after a moment of silence.
"That's cool too. I haven't done a lot of big stuff, but Dad does all the time."
"So you learned it from your dad?"
"Yeah, I did. Guess I got lucky that way," Dean said.
Chase smiled, noticing that Dean had relaxed considerably. "That's cool, having something like that in common."
"Oh, Dad and I get along really well," Dean said happily. "Which is good because it's just us."
That comment made Chase's eyebrows go up. "Just you and him?"
"Yeah," Dean said, this not seeming to concern him in the slightest.
Chase could not imagine it. His mother and sister were very important to him, and he thought he would go crazy if all he had was his father, especially considering the long hours he worked. "Huh."
He shrugged. "It's just been us as long as I remember. We should probably get to work?"
"Sure," Chase agreed. "I'm not sure what the project is, though."
"Oh, right," Dean said, looking around.
Just then, Mr. Dakamar approached with some papers, handing one to each of them. "The instructions should be clear enough, but just raise your hand if either of you have any questions, okay?"
"Sure," Chase said, taking his paper.
Dean took his as well. "Thanks," he said, leaving off the “Dad” rather deliberately. Mr. Dakamar just smiled and moved on to the next group.
The two of them scanned the assignment for a minute. When he had finished, Chase sat back. "This looks pretty easy. We should be done by Friday, no problem."
"Yeah, I think so too," Dean said. He looked up, scanning the room, obviously taking in where the different tools were located.
"It's the same setup as last year. I can show you where everything is," Chase said.
"Oh, thanks!" He smiled. "This whole school thing is taking some getting used to," he added absently, looking at the assignment again.
Chase's eyebrow shot up again. "You've never been to public school before?"
"What? Oh," Dean went red, seeming to realize that he had spoken out loud. "Oh, no. Dad always homeschooled me. I mean, I started kindergarten, but it...didn't work, so he started homeschooling me."
"Oh, okay." Chase would much rather have been homeschooled himself if he had been given the choice, so he let it pass. "Madison High's pretty okay. You'll probably like it." As he spoke, he got up and gestured Dean out of his seat as well. "Let's go see what we can use. I betcha there's plenty of balsa wood."
The other boy hopped up. "I hope I like it," he said earnestly, trailing Chase as they walked over to the supply shelves.
At the end of the period, they piled their materials in the plastic bins designated for their use, well set up for the next day's class. Chase stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to Dean. "Do you want to come sit with me and my friends for lunch?" he asked. "Unless you already found someone to sit with or you want to hang with your dad or something." It seemed like the right thing to do-he knew Laura and Carrie would have, if they had been there.
Dean brightened. "That would be awesome! Dad's going to eat with some of the other teachers, and I don't..." he trailed off, hesitating. "Well, I'd rather eat with you and your friends if that's okay."
Chase smiled, suddenly feeling quite a bit better. "Sure, let's go."
Story: Taking Root (DW/NIEE crossover AU)
Challenge: Coconut 30 (and now for something completely different), Milk Chocolate 6 (courtesy) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 7 (a fresh start) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel (Chase and Dean are in high school), Chopped Nuts (Sorin and Dean don’t belong to the DW universe), Smoothie
Word Count: 2,244
Rating: G
Summary: [September] Chase meets his new Woodshop teacher, and befriends the teacher’s son.
Notes: This is the result of a long line of projects Casey and I have done in the past. The short version is that I once wrote a short story for DW with a character in it that was a caricature of Dean, and recently told her that I wanted to revisit the premise, but with actual Dean (and adding Sorin in the role you see here). Her reaction was basically “ooh I want to help!” so now we’re attempting a Caramel/Chopped Nuts/Smoothie sundae as a for-fun side project from our regular stuff. (We are also counting this toward today's Summer Challenge word count.)
The year Chase turned sixteen was also the first year that his sister did not come home from college for the summer. “I have a really good job opportunity,” she explained, during her visit home for his birthday. “There’s a position open at that recording studio I told you about, and they said it’s mine if I want it. I can’t pass this up.”
Instead of protesting and attempting to chain his sister to the table leg, the way twelve-year-old Chase would have, he simply smiled and congratulated her. He wanted to do exactly the opposite, but squelched the urge. Laura wanted to be a recording artist. As her biggest fan, he had to support her, and he knew that if she took the job, she could get her foot in the door.
He was not so noble that he did not make her promise to continue to call him often before she left, though.
That summer, her calls were his lifelines. Laura phoned him at least twice a week, and between his conversations with her and the near-constant presence of Carrie and Sidney, the emptiness of his house barely bothered him. Toward the end of August, however, he began to grow restless. He had never really liked school, but he craved the familiarity of it. He missed his favorite hangouts, the friends he barely saw in the summer months, and the fun he had had in Woodshop during his first two years of high school.
He and Carrie went together on check-in day to drop off their emergency information, have their junior pictures taken, and pick up their class schedules for the year. “I’m sad you didn’t sign up for any AP classes,” she said, beginning to open hers.
“Yeah, that’s because I’m not suicidal like you,” he teased.
She elbowed him. “We probably won’t have a lot of classes together, that’s all.”
“I know it’s tragic, Care-bear, but I’m sure you’ll survive without me.” He tore open his envelope as he spoke, privately resolving to raise hell if his counselor had left Woodshop off his schedule.
“Right,” Carrie said, with a snort. “You’re the one who won’t know what to do with yourself without me around. Hey, we might have History or Chemistry together, let me see yours-Chase?”
Chase had stopped listening, his eyes fixed on the “Dakamar, S.” printed in thick, black lettering on the end of his fourth-period line. “What.”
***
Carrie immediately ordered him not to panic. The minute she left, he called Laura anyway.
Laura answered on the second ring and immediately agreed to talk to him. Before he could tell her what his problem was, he heard a male voice shout something in the background that made her laugh. “Kevin says hi, by the way. He’s here helping Lindsey and me organize our apartment.”
“Kevin can eat dirt,” Chase said sourly.
“All right, Chasie, what is it?”
He glanced over at his schedule, lying face down on the living room table. “Mr. Walker isn’t teaching Advanced Woodshop this year. I don’t know if he quit, or what, but we have a new teacher.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know how much you liked him.”
“It’s just…I was actually looking forward to going back to school, and I hate school. Woodshop is pretty much the only good thing about it, and now it’s ruined.”
“You don’t know that,” she said gently.
“New teachers are always bad,” he retorted.
“You haven’t even met him or her, Chase. Mr. Walker was new to you too, once-oh for God’s sake.” He heard muffled clanging and raised voices in the background. “Pipe down, you two! You can bicker in a minute when I get off the phone!”
“Good to know they haven’t changed,” Chase said dryly.
Laura sighed. “Tell me about it. Anyway, you don’t know what your new teacher’s going to be like. He or she could be just as awesome. I’m positive you’re still going to love the class and I’m still expecting you to make us an apartment-warming gift.”
He had to smile at that. “Course I will. I just…don’t like it when things are different.”
“I know you don’t, and I don’t either, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Just keep an open mind, okay? You never know.”
“I’ll try.” He would, because he had promised, but did not expect much all the same.
***
The first day turned out to be a Tuesday, and when fourth period came around, Chase walked into the workshop and dropped his backpack on the first bench he came across. It had been his spot the previous year, and he felt comfortable in the seat. Once settled, he looked around, feeling unsure and wishing he were at home in his bed.
The only person in the room old enough to be the teacher upset expectations Chase had not realized he had. Mr. Dakamar stood at Laura’s height, maybe a little taller, and he was a big man-not overweight, just big, with large, weathered hands. He stood next to an immaculately tidy desk, and he was speaking with a boy around Chase’s own age. Chase did not mean to eavesdrop, but he sat close enough to hear some of what the two were saying. "Don't be stupid, Dad," the boy said, with a grin. "It's only my first day, and only halfway through it at that."
Chase's eyes widened at the word "Dad." Mr. Dakamar hardly seemed old enough to have a high-school age son-Chase guessed that he could not be any older than forty, and looked younger-and at first glance, the two hardly looked anything alike. The boy had blond hair instead of his father’s brown, and a much more slender figure. On closer inspection, Chase saw a resemblance, and supposed it must be true. That’s weird, he thought.
"Still, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far," Mr. Dakamar said. Noticing that the classroom had begun to fill up quickly, he reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder, then turned to his desk.
The boy scooped up his bag and headed for the cluster of workbenches. Scanning the remaining seats, he bit his lip, and then turned to Chase. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, gesturing at the seat next to him nervously.
"Nope," Chase said.
"Mind if I do?”
"Yeah, g'head."
"Thanks," he said in obvious relief, plopping down next to Chase. Nodding absently, Chase directed his attention to the teacher.
Mr. Dakamar came around and leaned comfortably against the nearest machine, winking at the boy sitting next to Chase, before turning his attention to the last stragglers. "All right, if everyone could take a seat, we'll start," he said, aiming a smile at the crowd of students. "So, welcome to Advanced Woodshop. I'm hoping you're all here because you want to be and that you have some idea of what you're doing from your other Woodshop classes. I'm Mr. Dakamar and, as most of you probably know or have guessed, this is my first day, so I'd appreciate it if you at least tried to be nice.” Snickers and giggles rippled through the room at this. "I also know that Dakamar can be a bit of a mouthful, so non-derogatory nicknames are okay too." He scanned the group. "Anyone willing to fill me in on some of the things you've done in the past two classes?"
One girl raised her hand. "Mr. Walker taught us how to make things like shelves and chests."
"What else?"
"I made a bench last year," another boy volunteered.
Mr. Dakamar nodded. "Ever add color? Or how about more detailed decoration?" he asked.
"We tried staining once."
"How about anything small?"
The boy next to Chase shifted as if he wanted to comment but bit his lip instead, watching his father closely. Chase eyed him for a short moment before turning back to Mr. Dakamar. "I made a jewelry box for my sister," he said, almost too softly to be heard.
Mr. Dakamar brightened. "Oh, really? That's great! Anyone else?" A few other kids contributed stories of past projects. After a few minutes, he cut them off. "Okay, well, I doubt anyone wants me to talk the whole time, so we're going to get right into it with a small project so I can start to meet all of you and get an idea of where your skills lie. That work for everyone?" All of the students nodded their assent. "Okay. I think it'll be easiest with our space if you work, for today at least, at the same space as the person sitting next to you on the same bench. That should have us use our space well."
Chase glanced over at his new partner again, mentally groaning. That meant he would have to introduce himself. The boy smiled tentatively. "Hi. I'm Dean." He reddened. "Dean Dakamar."
"Chase Mitchell. Nice to meet you."
Dean nodded. "Same," he said quickly, obviously nervous.
Observing his discomfort, Chase decided to set him at ease. "Are you new? I haven't seen you here before, and you should've been in classes with me if you're already in Advanced."
"Yeah, it's my first day," Dean said. "I, um, tested in, I guess, is what they called it."
"How do you test in for Woodshop?"
"Dad, um, vouched for me. I mean, Mr. Dakamar," he hastily corrected himself.
Chase nodded. "So you've done woodworking before?"
"Yeah, a bunch, but mostly small stuff. Working on detail and stuff."
"Small stuff like what?"
"Animals," Dean said, brightening slightly.
"Like figurines? Carving?"
"Yeah, exactly."
This impressed Chase, who had never tried anything of the sort due to his avoidance of knives. "Nice."
"Thanks," Dean said, smiling a little. "I like to think so!"
"How many have you done?"
He rubbed his nose. "A lot. I had a lot of time."
"That's really cool."
"I guess so.”
"I've mostly done larger stuff and presents for my family," Chase said, after a moment of silence.
"That's cool too. I haven't done a lot of big stuff, but Dad does all the time."
"So you learned it from your dad?"
"Yeah, I did. Guess I got lucky that way," Dean said.
Chase smiled, noticing that Dean had relaxed considerably. "That's cool, having something like that in common."
"Oh, Dad and I get along really well," Dean said happily. "Which is good because it's just us."
That comment made Chase's eyebrows go up. "Just you and him?"
"Yeah," Dean said, this not seeming to concern him in the slightest.
Chase could not imagine it. His mother and sister were very important to him, and he thought he would go crazy if all he had was his father, especially considering the long hours he worked. "Huh."
He shrugged. "It's just been us as long as I remember. We should probably get to work?"
"Sure," Chase agreed. "I'm not sure what the project is, though."
"Oh, right," Dean said, looking around.
Just then, Mr. Dakamar approached with some papers, handing one to each of them. "The instructions should be clear enough, but just raise your hand if either of you have any questions, okay?"
"Sure," Chase said, taking his paper.
Dean took his as well. "Thanks," he said, leaving off the “Dad” rather deliberately. Mr. Dakamar just smiled and moved on to the next group.
The two of them scanned the assignment for a minute. When he had finished, Chase sat back. "This looks pretty easy. We should be done by Friday, no problem."
"Yeah, I think so too," Dean said. He looked up, scanning the room, obviously taking in where the different tools were located.
"It's the same setup as last year. I can show you where everything is," Chase said.
"Oh, thanks!" He smiled. "This whole school thing is taking some getting used to," he added absently, looking at the assignment again.
Chase's eyebrow shot up again. "You've never been to public school before?"
"What? Oh," Dean went red, seeming to realize that he had spoken out loud. "Oh, no. Dad always homeschooled me. I mean, I started kindergarten, but it...didn't work, so he started homeschooling me."
"Oh, okay." Chase would much rather have been homeschooled himself if he had been given the choice, so he let it pass. "Madison High's pretty okay. You'll probably like it." As he spoke, he got up and gestured Dean out of his seat as well. "Let's go see what we can use. I betcha there's plenty of balsa wood."
The other boy hopped up. "I hope I like it," he said earnestly, trailing Chase as they walked over to the supply shelves.
At the end of the period, they piled their materials in the plastic bins designated for their use, well set up for the next day's class. Chase stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to Dean. "Do you want to come sit with me and my friends for lunch?" he asked. "Unless you already found someone to sit with or you want to hang with your dad or something." It seemed like the right thing to do-he knew Laura and Carrie would have, if they had been there.
Dean brightened. "That would be awesome! Dad's going to eat with some of the other teachers, and I don't..." he trailed off, hesitating. "Well, I'd rather eat with you and your friends if that's okay."
Chase smiled, suddenly feeling quite a bit better. "Sure, let's go."