TR 9
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 6 (just shoot me), Milk Chocolate 21 (consolation) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 6 (alibi) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 2,077
Rating: PG
Summary: [October] Carrie needs someone to vent to. Dean’s available.
Notes: Does what it says on the tin, plus plot points on the side. There will be a separate piece later with family interactions for Chase and Carrie that relate to this piece and the previous one.
“The witch is back?”
“You don’t get to call her that, Chase,” Carrie said tiredly, glancing out her bedroom door to make sure neither her mother nor her grandmother were listening to her phone conversation. Fortunately, it seemed that the two of them were much too caught up in a heated argument over the refreshments that would be offered at her party that Friday to notice.
“Sorry,” said Chase, completely irreverently. Carrie did not exactly blame him for this. He had never liked her paternal grandmother, not that she had ever given him much reason to. At their first meeting, she had publicly decried his “inappropriate” behavior, and chastised Carrie for participating. Chase did not take well to this from anyone. Carrie was still thankful he had refrained from kicking the woman in the shin. “Is it bad?”
In reply, Carrie extended her cell phone to the open door.
“Carrie and I are planning this party, Caroline,” Eva shouted beyond it. “You are a guest, and you do not get to criticize those plans or try to take over just because they’re not the way you think they should be!”
“But a Costco cake, Eva? You can’t be serious,” Caroline replied, deadly calm.
Carrie put the phone back to her ear. “You tell me.”
“Sorry.” He meant it this time. “I wish I could help. Gotta go to dinner, though. We’re meeting Laura and bringing her back for the weekend.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then.” She grimaced. “If they haven’t driven me crazy by then.”
“You’ll be fine,” Chase said nonchalantly. “It’d take a lot more than that to make you insane. That’s my job, remember?”
Carrie laughed and let him go. For a moment, she sat on the bed unmoving, staring at her cell phone. The stomp of her mother’s foot on the linoleum of the kitchen roused her. I can’t listen to this much longer, she thought, shooting the two women a glare they could not see. Who else can I call… She scrolled through her contacts, eyes lighting up when they fell on a particular name.
***
"I got it," Dean called in to his dad as the phone rang. He reached across the table and snagged it. "Hello?"
"Dean!" Carrie, sounding vastly relieved, greeted him louder than she needed to. "Hey, it's Carrie."
Instantly, as much as he tried to stop it, a smile crossed his face. "Hey! What's up?"
"I can answer that if you've got about an hour free right now."
For a moment, he could only blink dumbly at the phone. "I...yeah, of course."
"Really? Could you meet me at the Poppe Shoppe in a few minutes, then? I'll treat."
"Sure, I'll meet you there. Just need to tell Dad."
"Great, thank you. I'll see you soon." She hung up without further ado, leaving him bewildered.
His first thought was that Chase surely must have died for her to call him, but he quickly dismissed that as not appropriate. Getting up, he searched out his father. "Dad, Carrie invited me to the Poppe Shoppe for a while. My homework's done and it's not far, so I figured I'd bike over."
Sorin frowned, that instant crease of worry that Dean hated to see appearing on his face. "Dean," he started, but his son cut him off, knowing where he was headed.
"I'll be fine, Dad! It's less than ten minutes, I'll have my cell phone and there are always people we know in the Poppe Shoppe. Please? This is important."
His dad hesitated. "Fine, but be careful and call me when you get there and when you're going to leave."
Dean barely resisted rolling his eyes but nodded, keeping the right solemn face. "I will, Dad, promise."
Less than fifteen minutes later, he rode up to the bike rack outside the Shoppe and slid his bike in. Glancing around to make sure Carrie had not arrived yet, he quickly made the phone call and then headed in.
A minute later, Carrie locked her own bike out front and barreled in, looking a little wild as she glanced around for him. "Carrie," he called, waving her over to the small booth he had procured, both eyebrows raising at her state.
She caught sight of him and hurried over to the table at a light jog. "Hey, thanks for meeting me."
"No problem. I wasn't doing anything interesting anyway. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm stressed out," she said, with a sarcastic punch of a laugh. She took the seat across from him. "My grandmother flew in today for my party and she's driving my mother crazy. I didn't want to be around them any longer than I had to."
"I take it they don't get along..." Dean said.
"No. Grandma's my father's mother. She's never liked Mom very much and Mom kind of hates her." Carrie leaned her chin on her fists. "They don't talk if they don't have to."
"Oh. Am I being impolite to ask why she was invited?"
She smiled a little. "I invited her. She is my grandmother."
Dean paused, absorbing that. Edward was his grandfather, but that did not mean he would be inviting the man to anything. He did not realize his expression had gone troubled. "Ah," he managed.
"You okay?"
Instantly, realizing his slip, he forced a smile. "Oh, yup. Why don't they get along?"
Carrie did not look convinced, but she obligingly explained. "Grandma doesn't like Mom for a lot of reasons, the main three being that she's Hispanic and a Democrat, and she kept her last name when she and Dad got married. Mom doesn’t like it that she keeps calling me Caroline instead of Carrie or Carolina, and harping on her parenting. The only thing they have in common is that they're both Catholic, but they have a lot of differing opinions on moral stuff."
"Sounds rough. I'm happy to assist in your escape," he said, working to get himself back in a lighter frame of mind.
"I appreciate it." She turned a slightly more relaxed face to the waitress who had come to take their orders. "Can I get a Cherry Coke float, please?"
"Certainly," she said with a smile and turned to Dean.
"Regular Coke float, please," he said.
The waitress scribbled the order down and hurried off. "So," Carrie said, lacing her fingers together over the tabletop as she turned back to him, "since you're helping me out, I'm going to help you. What's bugging you?"
Dean froze. "What?" he asked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "Nothing's bothering me."
"There's something," she said, with certainty. "I'm excellent at this stuff, didn't Chase tell you? Also, it's kind of obvious."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not at all used to being put on the spot-or asked his feelings on things. He and Sorin just did not openly talk about any of it ever. "No, he failed to mention that," he said, putting off answering her question.
"So what is it?"
"I...we, Dad and I don't see our extended family," he said finally, figuring that was safe enough, even if it barely scratched the surface of what was bothering him.
"Oh." Carrie looked completely astonished. "Why's that?"
"My grandparents are dead,"-which was a partial lie but close enough to the truth that he did not feel bad about it-"and my mom was an only child and Dad's brother is nuts and his sister moved herself and her family across the world."
She nodded. "I'm sorry. So it's just you two?"
"Pretty much. I..." He hesitated again but then figured Carrie would never talk to his dad about this. "I talk to two of my cousins on Facebook sometimes, when they're around, but it's not like seeing them or anything."
"No wonder you were so lonely when you were homeschooled," she said sympathetically. "I can't even imagine it."
His cheeks reddened in discomfort. "It was okay. I mean, Dad's good," he said, knowing he sounded lame even as the words passed his lips.
"Yeah, I like your dad. He's really nice."
Dean smiled. "He is. He worries too much sometimes, but I think some of that is just from having been a single dad so long."
"Sounds like my mom," Carrie said, with a smile that had an edge of pain behind it.
He nodded, resisting an urge to take or pat her hand. "That'd make sense. How old..." he trailed off, realizing that probably was not an appropriate question. "Never mind."
"No, you can ask. I mean, I've already been really nosy."
He smiled a little at that. "How old were you when you lost your dad?"
"Almost three."
"About the same as me then." He decided it was time to somewhat change the subject. "It's nice that your grandmother has come anyway for your birthday, even if she and your mom don't get along," he said, absently thanking the waitress as she returned with their drinks.
"Yeah, she and Granddad love me even though they're weird about it sometimes. He'd be here if he didn't have a huge business meeting this weekend."
"Ah," Dean said, taking a sip of his float and grinning a little at her. "Ready for your party?"
She laughed. "Yeah, I think it's going to be fun. You're still coming, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it!" he said, feeling a little bit like that was one of the few fully truthful things he had said to her the whole time. He squashed the guilt ferociously.
"Good!" Satisfied, she attacked her float with vigor. He felt himself smile at that and turned his attention to his own drink for the moment. "Are you working on anything special for Woodshop or whatever these days?" she asked then.
"Not really. We're doing a couple mini-projects and then we're going to work on designing and creating a two-shelf bookshelf," Dean said.
"Ooh, sounds fun."
"Should be!" he said, warming to one of his favorite topics. "Dad and I made one this summer, before school started, but after he'd been hired. Turned out pretty well."
"Do you two do woodworking projects together a lot?"
"Not a lot," he said. "Dad likes the big stuff. He's done a lot of the furniture in our house, but I prefer carving. Like figurines and stuff."
"Carving, interesting. What kind of figurines?"
"Mostly animals," he said, shrugging modestly. "They're not very good, but it's fun."
"That's the important part," she said firmly. "It takes a while to get good."
"Well, Dad says they're good, but they're not really," he said.
Carrie arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you're just really self-critical."
He shrugged again. "Don't think so, but I guess it's possible."
"Well, I'd like to see them."
Abruptly, Dean realized that he should have expected the request when he had brought it up. "Oh, um, I guess I can do that?"
"Great!" Carrie looked pleased.
Unable to resist her expression, he smiled. "Guess letting you see is just another step in helping cheer you up," he said, overly cheery.
"You have performed your job well," she quipped.
"Any time."
"Thanks, though."
"Bribe me with a float and I'll help any day," he said, winking.
Her head dropped back as she laughed. "I will keep that in mind."
Dean felt a burst of pride at getting her to laugh, considering both her mood when she came in and some of their conversation. Carrie seemed oblivious for the first time since walking in the room as she slurped at her float. He quickly ducked his head, not wanting her to catch him watching her with interest.
It took the two of them almost an entire hour to get through their floats, and Carrie still had an inch of hers left when she checked her watch and blanched. "Aw, crap, I need to get home."
"Need to make sure they don't kill each other?" he asked lightly.
"I'm pretty sure that's what Mom meant when she said 'be home by eight,' yeah," Carrie replied, visibly amused. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again."
"As I said, not a problem. Good luck!"
She shot him a quick grin, paid their tab, and skipped out of the restaurant. He watched her go, leaning over to keep an eye on her as she freed her bike. Letting out a breath, he sat back and wished, for the first time in a long time, that he did not have secrets.
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 6 (just shoot me), Milk Chocolate 21 (consolation) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 6 (alibi) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 2,077
Rating: PG
Summary: [October] Carrie needs someone to vent to. Dean’s available.
Notes: Does what it says on the tin, plus plot points on the side. There will be a separate piece later with family interactions for Chase and Carrie that relate to this piece and the previous one.
“The witch is back?”
“You don’t get to call her that, Chase,” Carrie said tiredly, glancing out her bedroom door to make sure neither her mother nor her grandmother were listening to her phone conversation. Fortunately, it seemed that the two of them were much too caught up in a heated argument over the refreshments that would be offered at her party that Friday to notice.
“Sorry,” said Chase, completely irreverently. Carrie did not exactly blame him for this. He had never liked her paternal grandmother, not that she had ever given him much reason to. At their first meeting, she had publicly decried his “inappropriate” behavior, and chastised Carrie for participating. Chase did not take well to this from anyone. Carrie was still thankful he had refrained from kicking the woman in the shin. “Is it bad?”
In reply, Carrie extended her cell phone to the open door.
“Carrie and I are planning this party, Caroline,” Eva shouted beyond it. “You are a guest, and you do not get to criticize those plans or try to take over just because they’re not the way you think they should be!”
“But a Costco cake, Eva? You can’t be serious,” Caroline replied, deadly calm.
Carrie put the phone back to her ear. “You tell me.”
“Sorry.” He meant it this time. “I wish I could help. Gotta go to dinner, though. We’re meeting Laura and bringing her back for the weekend.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then.” She grimaced. “If they haven’t driven me crazy by then.”
“You’ll be fine,” Chase said nonchalantly. “It’d take a lot more than that to make you insane. That’s my job, remember?”
Carrie laughed and let him go. For a moment, she sat on the bed unmoving, staring at her cell phone. The stomp of her mother’s foot on the linoleum of the kitchen roused her. I can’t listen to this much longer, she thought, shooting the two women a glare they could not see. Who else can I call… She scrolled through her contacts, eyes lighting up when they fell on a particular name.
***
"I got it," Dean called in to his dad as the phone rang. He reached across the table and snagged it. "Hello?"
"Dean!" Carrie, sounding vastly relieved, greeted him louder than she needed to. "Hey, it's Carrie."
Instantly, as much as he tried to stop it, a smile crossed his face. "Hey! What's up?"
"I can answer that if you've got about an hour free right now."
For a moment, he could only blink dumbly at the phone. "I...yeah, of course."
"Really? Could you meet me at the Poppe Shoppe in a few minutes, then? I'll treat."
"Sure, I'll meet you there. Just need to tell Dad."
"Great, thank you. I'll see you soon." She hung up without further ado, leaving him bewildered.
His first thought was that Chase surely must have died for her to call him, but he quickly dismissed that as not appropriate. Getting up, he searched out his father. "Dad, Carrie invited me to the Poppe Shoppe for a while. My homework's done and it's not far, so I figured I'd bike over."
Sorin frowned, that instant crease of worry that Dean hated to see appearing on his face. "Dean," he started, but his son cut him off, knowing where he was headed.
"I'll be fine, Dad! It's less than ten minutes, I'll have my cell phone and there are always people we know in the Poppe Shoppe. Please? This is important."
His dad hesitated. "Fine, but be careful and call me when you get there and when you're going to leave."
Dean barely resisted rolling his eyes but nodded, keeping the right solemn face. "I will, Dad, promise."
Less than fifteen minutes later, he rode up to the bike rack outside the Shoppe and slid his bike in. Glancing around to make sure Carrie had not arrived yet, he quickly made the phone call and then headed in.
A minute later, Carrie locked her own bike out front and barreled in, looking a little wild as she glanced around for him. "Carrie," he called, waving her over to the small booth he had procured, both eyebrows raising at her state.
She caught sight of him and hurried over to the table at a light jog. "Hey, thanks for meeting me."
"No problem. I wasn't doing anything interesting anyway. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm stressed out," she said, with a sarcastic punch of a laugh. She took the seat across from him. "My grandmother flew in today for my party and she's driving my mother crazy. I didn't want to be around them any longer than I had to."
"I take it they don't get along..." Dean said.
"No. Grandma's my father's mother. She's never liked Mom very much and Mom kind of hates her." Carrie leaned her chin on her fists. "They don't talk if they don't have to."
"Oh. Am I being impolite to ask why she was invited?"
She smiled a little. "I invited her. She is my grandmother."
Dean paused, absorbing that. Edward was his grandfather, but that did not mean he would be inviting the man to anything. He did not realize his expression had gone troubled. "Ah," he managed.
"You okay?"
Instantly, realizing his slip, he forced a smile. "Oh, yup. Why don't they get along?"
Carrie did not look convinced, but she obligingly explained. "Grandma doesn't like Mom for a lot of reasons, the main three being that she's Hispanic and a Democrat, and she kept her last name when she and Dad got married. Mom doesn’t like it that she keeps calling me Caroline instead of Carrie or Carolina, and harping on her parenting. The only thing they have in common is that they're both Catholic, but they have a lot of differing opinions on moral stuff."
"Sounds rough. I'm happy to assist in your escape," he said, working to get himself back in a lighter frame of mind.
"I appreciate it." She turned a slightly more relaxed face to the waitress who had come to take their orders. "Can I get a Cherry Coke float, please?"
"Certainly," she said with a smile and turned to Dean.
"Regular Coke float, please," he said.
The waitress scribbled the order down and hurried off. "So," Carrie said, lacing her fingers together over the tabletop as she turned back to him, "since you're helping me out, I'm going to help you. What's bugging you?"
Dean froze. "What?" he asked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "Nothing's bothering me."
"There's something," she said, with certainty. "I'm excellent at this stuff, didn't Chase tell you? Also, it's kind of obvious."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not at all used to being put on the spot-or asked his feelings on things. He and Sorin just did not openly talk about any of it ever. "No, he failed to mention that," he said, putting off answering her question.
"So what is it?"
"I...we, Dad and I don't see our extended family," he said finally, figuring that was safe enough, even if it barely scratched the surface of what was bothering him.
"Oh." Carrie looked completely astonished. "Why's that?"
"My grandparents are dead,"-which was a partial lie but close enough to the truth that he did not feel bad about it-"and my mom was an only child and Dad's brother is nuts and his sister moved herself and her family across the world."
She nodded. "I'm sorry. So it's just you two?"
"Pretty much. I..." He hesitated again but then figured Carrie would never talk to his dad about this. "I talk to two of my cousins on Facebook sometimes, when they're around, but it's not like seeing them or anything."
"No wonder you were so lonely when you were homeschooled," she said sympathetically. "I can't even imagine it."
His cheeks reddened in discomfort. "It was okay. I mean, Dad's good," he said, knowing he sounded lame even as the words passed his lips.
"Yeah, I like your dad. He's really nice."
Dean smiled. "He is. He worries too much sometimes, but I think some of that is just from having been a single dad so long."
"Sounds like my mom," Carrie said, with a smile that had an edge of pain behind it.
He nodded, resisting an urge to take or pat her hand. "That'd make sense. How old..." he trailed off, realizing that probably was not an appropriate question. "Never mind."
"No, you can ask. I mean, I've already been really nosy."
He smiled a little at that. "How old were you when you lost your dad?"
"Almost three."
"About the same as me then." He decided it was time to somewhat change the subject. "It's nice that your grandmother has come anyway for your birthday, even if she and your mom don't get along," he said, absently thanking the waitress as she returned with their drinks.
"Yeah, she and Granddad love me even though they're weird about it sometimes. He'd be here if he didn't have a huge business meeting this weekend."
"Ah," Dean said, taking a sip of his float and grinning a little at her. "Ready for your party?"
She laughed. "Yeah, I think it's going to be fun. You're still coming, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it!" he said, feeling a little bit like that was one of the few fully truthful things he had said to her the whole time. He squashed the guilt ferociously.
"Good!" Satisfied, she attacked her float with vigor. He felt himself smile at that and turned his attention to his own drink for the moment. "Are you working on anything special for Woodshop or whatever these days?" she asked then.
"Not really. We're doing a couple mini-projects and then we're going to work on designing and creating a two-shelf bookshelf," Dean said.
"Ooh, sounds fun."
"Should be!" he said, warming to one of his favorite topics. "Dad and I made one this summer, before school started, but after he'd been hired. Turned out pretty well."
"Do you two do woodworking projects together a lot?"
"Not a lot," he said. "Dad likes the big stuff. He's done a lot of the furniture in our house, but I prefer carving. Like figurines and stuff."
"Carving, interesting. What kind of figurines?"
"Mostly animals," he said, shrugging modestly. "They're not very good, but it's fun."
"That's the important part," she said firmly. "It takes a while to get good."
"Well, Dad says they're good, but they're not really," he said.
Carrie arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you're just really self-critical."
He shrugged again. "Don't think so, but I guess it's possible."
"Well, I'd like to see them."
Abruptly, Dean realized that he should have expected the request when he had brought it up. "Oh, um, I guess I can do that?"
"Great!" Carrie looked pleased.
Unable to resist her expression, he smiled. "Guess letting you see is just another step in helping cheer you up," he said, overly cheery.
"You have performed your job well," she quipped.
"Any time."
"Thanks, though."
"Bribe me with a float and I'll help any day," he said, winking.
Her head dropped back as she laughed. "I will keep that in mind."
Dean felt a burst of pride at getting her to laugh, considering both her mood when she came in and some of their conversation. Carrie seemed oblivious for the first time since walking in the room as she slurped at her float. He quickly ducked his head, not wanting her to catch him watching her with interest.
It took the two of them almost an entire hour to get through their floats, and Carrie still had an inch of hers left when she checked her watch and blanched. "Aw, crap, I need to get home."
"Need to make sure they don't kill each other?" he asked lightly.
"I'm pretty sure that's what Mom meant when she said 'be home by eight,' yeah," Carrie replied, visibly amused. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again."
"As I said, not a problem. Good luck!"
She shot him a quick grin, paid their tab, and skipped out of the restaurant. He watched her go, leaning over to keep an eye on her as she freed her bike. Letting out a breath, he sat back and wished, for the first time in a long time, that he did not have secrets.