The Summer of Love
My friend saberivojo graduated nursing school and I offered her a weechester fic as a graduation present. She asked for a summer fic about the boys sparring and John being John...and this is what she got. Congratulations again :)
Sam hadn't seen it coming.
And from where Dean was standing, he should have been. After all what was the point of sparring if you weren't ready for a well placed round house kick to your jaw? I mean sure, Sam had called a time out and wasn't looking but serious, what monster was going to give you a time out? He'd hit the side of his little brother's face so hard that he actually knocked a tooth out.
Which was instantly followed by an eerily accurate rendition of an air raid siren that cut the through the superheated air of Kentucky in seconds flat.
“Oh crap.” was all Dean could mutter as he sat down in the gravel of rural driveway and counted silently to himself.
5..4...3...2...
“SAMMY!” John's voice called out from the house as the screen door burst open. Their father looked from Sam, who was on the ground holding his bleeding mouth to Dean, who was picking up rocks and tossing them aside waiting for the worse. “What the fuck is going on?”
“That didn't take long.” Dean grumbled under his breath.
John knelt down next to Sam, his hands hovering around the boy as if he was made of glass. Dean watched while his eyes narrowed in anger as his dad treated Sam as if he was the most important thing in the world. Of course Sam just hammed it up, he started taking those halting gasps of air as he struggled to talk through his tears. It was completely unintelligible to Dean but obviously John Winchester spoke fluent crybaby.
“You kicked him?” he asked Dean after a few seconds.
“We were sparring.” Dean said, feeling his eyes start to sting with tears, as they always did every time John berated him.
“Sparring does not mean connecting.” his dad's rumbled.
Dean shrugged. “Not my fault he wasn't paying attention.
Even as he said it Dean knew it was the wrong thing to say for so many reasons. The first being, he didn't believe it. Dean knew the kick had been a cheap shot but took it anyways in payback for the extended whining his little brother had been engaged in for the past month. Two, Dean knew it was his job to look out for his little brother, a job in the past he had not only enjoyed but worked hard at. But lately, it seemed Sam took more time bitching than he did training and frankly, it was getting on Dean's nerves.
Third, and most important, he knew his dad wouldn't buy it for a moment.
“You want me to kick you?” John raged, moving away from Sam. Dean scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, gravel flying everywhere as he tried to move away. “How about we spar and if you aren't paying attention I kick you in the face?”
Dean felt fear race down his spine as he brought his hands up for defense, but he refused to let it show on his face. He said nothing as he glared up at his father, blaming Sam the entire time.
“Dammit Dean, he's special. You need to be easier...” John began to explain when Dean cut him off.
“HE'S ALWAYS SPECIAL! ALWAYS!!” Dean's face was red with fury as he shouted at John. “WHEN AM I SPECIAL? WHEN'S IT MY TURN?”
John stood there in shock as Dean rushed past him and ran into the house. The sound of the door slamming as like a period on the sentence.
“I fwound my 'ooth.” Sam said holding up a single white object.
John sighed as he tried to figure out what to do now.
Dean sat on the bed and waited for the air conditioning to cool him off. His dad had told them it was going to be hot in Kentucky over the summer but there were no words that could have prepared them for this level of heat before hand. It was a heat that seemed to get under your clothes and into your skin. Everything was annoying, you were always mad and no matter how hard you tried, you wanted to throttle your little brother into silence.
As he cooled down Dean knew he had made a mistake.
He never meant to hurt Sam, it was just...why couldn't he just shut up and get with the program? He was always bitching about their lifestyle, which really made Dean mad since he had broken his word in telling him what dad did for real in the first place. It had been over a year since that Christmas and instead of embracing the super hero like life style that made up the Winchester family, Sam had become more and more vocal in his opposition to it. So much so that it was driving Dean crazy.
Completely crazy.
He heard the front door open and wondered if he had crossed a line this time? It had been a long time since his dad had spanked him and from what he could remember, Dean was not a fan of corporal punishment. Sam walked in, ignoring Dean, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door. It took Dean a few seconds for him to realize the stain on the front of Sam's shirt was blood. He felt his stomach lurch from the knowledge he had caused it.
About a minute later John walked in with two cokes in his hand. He handed one to Dean and sat down next to him. Dean held the coke, not sure if he should open or not. He forced himself not to cry as his dad began to speak. “You are special Dean. I know I don't tell you that enough...” he trailed off uncomfortably. “The thing is...” he tried again. “Your brother is...” and he sighed.
“Our life sucks buddy.” he finally admitted. Dean looked up at his dad and for the first time noticed how old he looked. “I'm not going to lie to you kiddo, you got the short end of the stick on this deal.” he chuckled slightly. “Hell you got the short end of a couple of sticks if we're being honest.” he looked over to Dean. “You know that right?” Dean nodded slowly, still not sure if he was in trouble or not.
“Here's the thing.” John said putting his coke down. “I remember when I was in the Marines, they were training us for hand to hand. Viscous stuff, none of the wrestling and grappling bullshit you see on TV. Real moves that would take a guy's eye out or crush his windpipe, the whole theory was if you were close enough to swing a punch, things were fucked up.” Dean nodded, understand a little of that. Take the guy out before he had a chance to even start a fight much less finish it. “So while we're training Deacon, a friend of mine, elbows me and says we're never gonna lose a bar fight after this. And our gunny loses it.”
“Your gun?” Dean asked confused.
“Gunny, gunnery sergeant. The guy who was training us.” John explained. Dean nodded and motioned for his dad to continue. “He looks Deacon in the eye and asks if he thinks that he's learned enough to kick his ass? Which is insane because he's been training us for like five minutes and this guy has been fighting his whole life. So of course Deacon shakes his head no and the Gunny keeps yelling. So if we got in a fight would it be ok for me to use my advanced knowledge on your sorry ass? Now at this point I really thought the guy was going to kill Deacon and was already writing a letter in my head. 'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kaylor, your son died today because he was stupid.' and all that because I'd never seen any gunny this mad before.”
“What happened?” Dean asked, his eyes wide as he soaked up the story.
“Well Deacon is shaking his head, saying no it wasn't fair and the gunny was still advancing on him, obliviously ready to kick his ass. Finally Deacon backs up to the barracks and has nowhere to go and the sergeant comes right up to his face and asks. 'Do you think it would be fair if I used my advanced knowledge to rearrange your face?' Of course Deacon just shakes his head no and lets off a 'No sir!' for good measure.”
Dean nodded his head, knowing a well timed “No sir!” or “Yes sir!” or even a “Whatever you say sir!” could diffuse a situation quickly.
“And then the gunny leans in and asks in a low voice. 'So why do you think it would be ok for you to use it in a bar fight?' And you could see Deacon's face drop as he realizes what set him off.” John moved and looked directly into Dean's eyes. “Dean you are going to be stronger, faster and a hell of a lot better trained than any five guys out there. I can assure you there is no one your age that could stand up to you right now, and you're only going to get better.” Dean blinked at the words, unused to his father giving compliments. “Let me tell you a secret. The true measure of a man is not how fast or how many times he can kick a guy's ass. It is how many times he can walk away from a fight knowing he could have killed the other guy with no effort.” Dean felt his eyes sting as he got the point of this talk. “Sam looks to you for his training, you are the one here with the knowledge. If you want him to learn so he can protect himself, you're going to have to go easy on him. You know why?”
“Because he's smaller than me?” Dean asked.
John shook his head. “Because if something happened to him, do you think you'd ever forgive yourself?”
Now the tears began to fall down his face as the shame hit Dean full force. John pulled him into a hug as he patted him on the back. “It's ok. It was a baby tooth. But you have to be more careful.” Dean nodded as he held onto his dad with all his strength.
“Hey!” Sam called out. “I wost a 'ooth! Why is he getting hubs?”
John laughed and opened his arm up to include Sam in the hug. “Because you're both special.” he said as Sam hugged his dad back. “You know what losing a tooth means right?” he asked Sam.
“Dat 'ean's an ahhole?” Sam muttered.
John laughed as he shook his head. “Free money from the tooth fairy!” he exclaimed.
Both boys looked up at John with looks of disbelief. “DAD!” they cried out. “There's no tooth fairy!!”
John burst out laughing as he hugged them both. “Jeez! You boys believe in werewolves, ghosts and witches but tooth fairy is where you draw the line.”
And though he didn't tell anyone, Sam hid the tooth under his pillow that night just in case. And the next morning he found five bucks under his pillow! He ran into the kitchen and found his dad sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a black eye. Sam stopped and asked I concern. “What happened to you?”
John looked up and could see Dean coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair. He froze as John called out to him. “Dean!” his son looked over at him. “Be careful next time you spar with this one.” he said pointing at Sam. “He kicks harder than you do.”
Sam looked confused as John and Dean began to laugh. He shrugged and pocketed the five bucks. It was going to be a long, hot summer and the cokes were on him.
Sam hadn't seen it coming.
And from where Dean was standing, he should have been. After all what was the point of sparring if you weren't ready for a well placed round house kick to your jaw? I mean sure, Sam had called a time out and wasn't looking but serious, what monster was going to give you a time out? He'd hit the side of his little brother's face so hard that he actually knocked a tooth out.
Which was instantly followed by an eerily accurate rendition of an air raid siren that cut the through the superheated air of Kentucky in seconds flat.
“Oh crap.” was all Dean could mutter as he sat down in the gravel of rural driveway and counted silently to himself.
5..4...3...2...
“SAMMY!” John's voice called out from the house as the screen door burst open. Their father looked from Sam, who was on the ground holding his bleeding mouth to Dean, who was picking up rocks and tossing them aside waiting for the worse. “What the fuck is going on?”
“That didn't take long.” Dean grumbled under his breath.
John knelt down next to Sam, his hands hovering around the boy as if he was made of glass. Dean watched while his eyes narrowed in anger as his dad treated Sam as if he was the most important thing in the world. Of course Sam just hammed it up, he started taking those halting gasps of air as he struggled to talk through his tears. It was completely unintelligible to Dean but obviously John Winchester spoke fluent crybaby.
“You kicked him?” he asked Dean after a few seconds.
“We were sparring.” Dean said, feeling his eyes start to sting with tears, as they always did every time John berated him.
“Sparring does not mean connecting.” his dad's rumbled.
Dean shrugged. “Not my fault he wasn't paying attention.
Even as he said it Dean knew it was the wrong thing to say for so many reasons. The first being, he didn't believe it. Dean knew the kick had been a cheap shot but took it anyways in payback for the extended whining his little brother had been engaged in for the past month. Two, Dean knew it was his job to look out for his little brother, a job in the past he had not only enjoyed but worked hard at. But lately, it seemed Sam took more time bitching than he did training and frankly, it was getting on Dean's nerves.
Third, and most important, he knew his dad wouldn't buy it for a moment.
“You want me to kick you?” John raged, moving away from Sam. Dean scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, gravel flying everywhere as he tried to move away. “How about we spar and if you aren't paying attention I kick you in the face?”
Dean felt fear race down his spine as he brought his hands up for defense, but he refused to let it show on his face. He said nothing as he glared up at his father, blaming Sam the entire time.
“Dammit Dean, he's special. You need to be easier...” John began to explain when Dean cut him off.
“HE'S ALWAYS SPECIAL! ALWAYS!!” Dean's face was red with fury as he shouted at John. “WHEN AM I SPECIAL? WHEN'S IT MY TURN?”
John stood there in shock as Dean rushed past him and ran into the house. The sound of the door slamming as like a period on the sentence.
“I fwound my 'ooth.” Sam said holding up a single white object.
John sighed as he tried to figure out what to do now.
Dean sat on the bed and waited for the air conditioning to cool him off. His dad had told them it was going to be hot in Kentucky over the summer but there were no words that could have prepared them for this level of heat before hand. It was a heat that seemed to get under your clothes and into your skin. Everything was annoying, you were always mad and no matter how hard you tried, you wanted to throttle your little brother into silence.
As he cooled down Dean knew he had made a mistake.
He never meant to hurt Sam, it was just...why couldn't he just shut up and get with the program? He was always bitching about their lifestyle, which really made Dean mad since he had broken his word in telling him what dad did for real in the first place. It had been over a year since that Christmas and instead of embracing the super hero like life style that made up the Winchester family, Sam had become more and more vocal in his opposition to it. So much so that it was driving Dean crazy.
Completely crazy.
He heard the front door open and wondered if he had crossed a line this time? It had been a long time since his dad had spanked him and from what he could remember, Dean was not a fan of corporal punishment. Sam walked in, ignoring Dean, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door. It took Dean a few seconds for him to realize the stain on the front of Sam's shirt was blood. He felt his stomach lurch from the knowledge he had caused it.
About a minute later John walked in with two cokes in his hand. He handed one to Dean and sat down next to him. Dean held the coke, not sure if he should open or not. He forced himself not to cry as his dad began to speak. “You are special Dean. I know I don't tell you that enough...” he trailed off uncomfortably. “The thing is...” he tried again. “Your brother is...” and he sighed.
“Our life sucks buddy.” he finally admitted. Dean looked up at his dad and for the first time noticed how old he looked. “I'm not going to lie to you kiddo, you got the short end of the stick on this deal.” he chuckled slightly. “Hell you got the short end of a couple of sticks if we're being honest.” he looked over to Dean. “You know that right?” Dean nodded slowly, still not sure if he was in trouble or not.
“Here's the thing.” John said putting his coke down. “I remember when I was in the Marines, they were training us for hand to hand. Viscous stuff, none of the wrestling and grappling bullshit you see on TV. Real moves that would take a guy's eye out or crush his windpipe, the whole theory was if you were close enough to swing a punch, things were fucked up.” Dean nodded, understand a little of that. Take the guy out before he had a chance to even start a fight much less finish it. “So while we're training Deacon, a friend of mine, elbows me and says we're never gonna lose a bar fight after this. And our gunny loses it.”
“Your gun?” Dean asked confused.
“Gunny, gunnery sergeant. The guy who was training us.” John explained. Dean nodded and motioned for his dad to continue. “He looks Deacon in the eye and asks if he thinks that he's learned enough to kick his ass? Which is insane because he's been training us for like five minutes and this guy has been fighting his whole life. So of course Deacon shakes his head no and the Gunny keeps yelling. So if we got in a fight would it be ok for me to use my advanced knowledge on your sorry ass? Now at this point I really thought the guy was going to kill Deacon and was already writing a letter in my head. 'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kaylor, your son died today because he was stupid.' and all that because I'd never seen any gunny this mad before.”
“What happened?” Dean asked, his eyes wide as he soaked up the story.
“Well Deacon is shaking his head, saying no it wasn't fair and the gunny was still advancing on him, obliviously ready to kick his ass. Finally Deacon backs up to the barracks and has nowhere to go and the sergeant comes right up to his face and asks. 'Do you think it would be fair if I used my advanced knowledge to rearrange your face?' Of course Deacon just shakes his head no and lets off a 'No sir!' for good measure.”
Dean nodded his head, knowing a well timed “No sir!” or “Yes sir!” or even a “Whatever you say sir!” could diffuse a situation quickly.
“And then the gunny leans in and asks in a low voice. 'So why do you think it would be ok for you to use it in a bar fight?' And you could see Deacon's face drop as he realizes what set him off.” John moved and looked directly into Dean's eyes. “Dean you are going to be stronger, faster and a hell of a lot better trained than any five guys out there. I can assure you there is no one your age that could stand up to you right now, and you're only going to get better.” Dean blinked at the words, unused to his father giving compliments. “Let me tell you a secret. The true measure of a man is not how fast or how many times he can kick a guy's ass. It is how many times he can walk away from a fight knowing he could have killed the other guy with no effort.” Dean felt his eyes sting as he got the point of this talk. “Sam looks to you for his training, you are the one here with the knowledge. If you want him to learn so he can protect himself, you're going to have to go easy on him. You know why?”
“Because he's smaller than me?” Dean asked.
John shook his head. “Because if something happened to him, do you think you'd ever forgive yourself?”
Now the tears began to fall down his face as the shame hit Dean full force. John pulled him into a hug as he patted him on the back. “It's ok. It was a baby tooth. But you have to be more careful.” Dean nodded as he held onto his dad with all his strength.
“Hey!” Sam called out. “I wost a 'ooth! Why is he getting hubs?”
John laughed and opened his arm up to include Sam in the hug. “Because you're both special.” he said as Sam hugged his dad back. “You know what losing a tooth means right?” he asked Sam.
“Dat 'ean's an ahhole?” Sam muttered.
John laughed as he shook his head. “Free money from the tooth fairy!” he exclaimed.
Both boys looked up at John with looks of disbelief. “DAD!” they cried out. “There's no tooth fairy!!”
John burst out laughing as he hugged them both. “Jeez! You boys believe in werewolves, ghosts and witches but tooth fairy is where you draw the line.”
And though he didn't tell anyone, Sam hid the tooth under his pillow that night just in case. And the next morning he found five bucks under his pillow! He ran into the kitchen and found his dad sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a black eye. Sam stopped and asked I concern. “What happened to you?”
John looked up and could see Dean coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair. He froze as John called out to him. “Dean!” his son looked over at him. “Be careful next time you spar with this one.” he said pointing at Sam. “He kicks harder than you do.”
Sam looked confused as John and Dean began to laugh. He shrugged and pocketed the five bucks. It was going to be a long, hot summer and the cokes were on him.