#like this is a show I’d hide from my own dad due to dean and cas everything

[connecting-the-stars]

Growing up as a teenager who watched Supernatural, probably affected me… for worse or better. But what am I supposed to do when my friend is now watching for the first time in a house of a “Anti-woke” father. Like should I warn her of the ending?? Of the meta call outs of Fanfiction??? Of everything with Dean and Cas????

Hung out yesterday and the episode of “Ghost-facers” came on from s3 and I literally subtly as possible and forward past the ending interview. “How gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day.” Her dad in the kitchen that can very much see everything. My heart was racing. This is a man who denied COVID and was any anti-masker until he got COVID. He’s very loud with his opinion of “Woke.”

He asked me today while he cooked us breakfast if I liked the show and I said yes and it ofc my ass started talking about it and he realized that I had seen it before but my friend had not. I wish I could lie better but I can’t and my friend would have definitely been confused if I did lie to him.

She wouldn’t have problem with what the show includes but her dad would, and they often sit together watching tv. He was watching Supernatural with her when I got over season 3. The family knows that me and my mother enjoy - enjoyed (not the finale) the show.

She is leaving soon back to college but she literally just started season 4 today. I feel like i should give her a heads up so she doesn’t get in trouble from her dad.

[holylulusworld]

The Boy Next Door

Summary: Dean is the boy next door and the one that got away.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Lisa Braeden, Cassie Robinson, unnamed mother

Warnings: angst, shy reader, bullying, sadness, mentions of death of loved ones

A/N: This is my entry for @cockslut-padalecki‘s BACK TO THE MOVIES challenge, my song was ‘The boy next door’ by Judy Garland from the movie ‘Meet Me In St. Louis’

I just recognized the challenge was due October 1st not 7th, sorry. I hope you still like my entry.

Words: 1963

I still remember the moment the Winchesters moved in. Not as I was nosy and watched every new neighbor move in, but as a certain boy caught my attention. 

He was around 10 but the way he cared for his little brother, who he lovingly called Sammy, was something else. I never saw a kid take care of his sibling the way Dean Winchester did.

I think the moment he kneeled in front of his brother to check on Sam’s bleeding knee was the moment Dean Winchester stole my heart. I could see the smile on Dean’s face when Sam stopped crying and my heart fluttered.

I smiled with Dean when his brother jumped up to run toward his father to show him the Batman plaster his big brother put onto his wound. Of course, John grumbled something I didn’t understand before he ushered his sons inside.

The moment I saw him smile

I knew he was just my style

My only regret is we've never met

Though I dream of him all the while

Months later I saw Dean playing with the kids from the neighborhood. Only I was not around. I always was a nerdy little girl, afraid to talk to other kids.

“You should go and talk to the boys, Y/N. They seem to be nice,” my mother said, hoping I will finally get over my shyness, but I didn’t.

I tried to forget about the cocky boy's smile but – to be honest, I never did. When the months turned into years I slowly lost hope that I ever will find the guts to talk to Dean.

Once I almost made it to their house, but then Sam called for his brother and I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. I ushered back inside, hating myself. 

Sixteen was the turning point. I got rid of my braces, asked my mom to buy me a nice dress as Dean invited every kid from the neighborhood to celebrate he got his driving license.

I smiled to myself when he hovered over the classic car his dad got for him.

I still remember the black Impala, its roar, and how the car paint reflected the sun on hot summer days.

“Will you go, sweetheart?” My mother asked when I stood in front of our door, ready to break out of my shell. “I can go with you.”

“No, mom. I’ve got this,” I gave her my bravest smile before I finally opened the door to almost run toward the Winchesters' house. But when I arrived, my heart dropped. 

Lisa, the prettiest and most popular girl was leaning against the Impala, giggling at something that Dean said. I stood on the other side of the street, glancing at Dean who yelled something at Jimmy, his best friend before he ran off.

“Why is that freak here?” Cassie chortled, looking at me with disgust. “Did Dean invite her?”

“No,” Lisa laughed, shaking her head. “He doesn’t even know that nerd exists. Hey, go back to where you belong. Stick your nose into another book, freak.” Lisa said, unbeknownst Sam heard every word.

But he doesn't know I exist

No matter how I may persist

So it's clear to see there's no hope for me

Though I live at fifty-one-thirty-five Kensington Avenue

And he lives at fifty-one-thirty-three

I dropped the gift I got for Dean. A book about the Impala as I thought it’s a nice gift and that Dean will finally see me. But when I realized he didn’t even know I exist, my world crumbled down.

“There she goes,” Lisa snickered, watching me dash toward our house. “I wonder why she showed up. Dean never mentioned freaky sneaky Y/N.”

“I invited her,” Sam picked the gift carefully up. “She’s always alone. I thought it’s nice to get to know her. I should’ve known better than letting someone that nicely get close to you…bitches,” Sam ran off, pushing his big brother aside when Dean tried to stop him.

I only know Sam never mentioned the gift or that day, but my mom told me she watched the boy hide the book in his jacket, protecting it against Dean’s elder friends.

How can I ignore the boy next door

I love him more than I can say

Doesn't try to please me

Doesn't even tease me

And he never sees me glance his way

When I said that day was a turning point – I meant it. I didn’t forget about Dean or stopped admiring him from afar. I simply stopped imagining he would finally talk to me or hold my hand. 

I knew it would never happen, not with girls like Lisa around. There are always girls like Lisa, or Cassie or whoever got his attention.

I must admit, it pained me I missed my chance to talk to him. My boy next door, the one that got away.

Instead of talking to Dean or get to know him, I watched the boy next door go to prom with Lisa.

And though I'm heart-sore, the boy next door

Affection for me won't display

I just adore him

So I can't ignore him

The boy next door

The last time I saw him was when he moved out, hand tightly wrapped around Lisa’s waist. I never asked about him or where he went. My admiration followed him, just like my heart, but I knew – I must let go of a dream that day.

I just adore him

So I can't ignore him

The boy next door

It’s been ten years since the day I swore to myself to never get close to his house but I can’t keep my mind from wandering toward the boy next door.

“Hey, I heard you are around, Y/N,” a deep voice catches me off guard, and I jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I wonder why this foreign man stands in my parents’ front yard a big smile plastered on his lips. “You don’t look like the guy on the sign.”

“Oh-no!” The man huffs, looking at the sign of my realtor in the front yard. “I don’t think you’ll remember me, but I lived right over there. My name is Dean,” Dean holds out his hand, frowning when I step backward.

“I remember you, Dean,” eyes downcast I sigh deeply. “You moved in when you were ten,” I don’t meet Dean’s gaze when he steps closer, opening his jacket to show me something he hid for almost ten years. “How could I not remember you? I just didn’t think you knew I exist.”

“I found this, two years after that party,” Dean swallows thickly, showing me the book, I bought for him. “Sammy, he said you dropped it. I thought you didn’t like me back then and threw the gift away. Sam, he told me a few days ago what happened.”

“Lisa said you don’t even know I exist, so I went home. I think I dropped the book,” I awkwardly glance at my shoes when Dean opens the book to reveal the card I wrote. I gnaw at my lower lip, hating I dropped the book instead of throwing it into the dumpster.

“Dear Dean,” he clears his throat, stepping closer to me, “I know we never talked, but I wanted to tell you that I admire the way you care for your brother. I must admit, I kinda watched you now and then. I’m a bit shy, but you seem to be a nice guy and I’d like to be your friend. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I’m a nerd to anyone else. I know guys your age don’t want anyone to ruin their reputation. So, if you decide you don’t want to know me, I will be okay with it. I just wanted to give you the book as I like your car.” Dean puts the card back into the book, careful to not lose it.

“I was a shy teen. Sorry for the stupid words,” I shuffle from one foot to the other, hoping the real-estate agent will save me sooner or later. “I didn’t think much of it.” I lie. Truth is, I spend days finding the right words to express my feelings.

“I liked it,” Dean mumbles, stuffing the book back into the pocket in his jacket. “You see, Sammy said you’ll be back in town for a few days. As I never got the chance to thank you for the gift, I thought we can go for a coffee.”

“Listen, it’s kind of you that you want to try to be nice, but we are not in high-school any more,” I meet Dean’s gaze, giving him a cracked smile. “I’m twenty-six now, not a teen. Let’s just stop pretending you ever knew I exist. Go back to your life and throw that card and the book away. It was a gift of a stupid girl.”

“No, no, sweetheart,” when I try to walk into the house Dean runs after me, grasping for my arm. “Y/N, please. I always hoped you would come back to town. I waited for ten years.”

“You moved out after high school, Dean. Why would you want me to come back to town? This doesn’t make sense. If you excuse me now, I must sell my parents house,” I try to escape the awkward situation, but Dean won’t let go of my arm.

“Y/N, I was too shy to talk to you. You always sat under that huge tree behind the school building reading a book. Once or twice I wanted to talk to you, but you looked like you were in your own world.”

“I was, as no one liked me. I spend my days alone as I was shy, awkward, and a bit nerdy. Sam was the only one talking to me when he saw me after school,” I look over Dean’s shoulder, not wanting him to see my tears. 

“I didn’t know,” Dean mumbles, dropping the hand holding my arm. “Would go for a coffee with me? I…I want to talk about the book with you. I really would like to spend time with you.”

“Dean,” I glance at the wedding band around his finger, shaking my head. “I don’t think Lisa will appreciate you spend time with the freak she liked to bully. Go back to your life and leave me the fuck alone,” I walk into the house, slamming the door shut. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Sweetheart? Hey, uh-erm, can I come inside? It kinda starts to rain and I want to talk to you,” I let out a frustrated sigh when Dean enters my parent's house. He awkwardly glances around the house, sorting his thoughts. “I’m not married anymore. Just didn’t take the ring off yet.”

“When did you get divorced?” Dean shrugs, looking at the golden band. “Sorry, it’s none of my business, Dean. We don’t even know each other.”

“She died five years, three months and sixteen days ago,” I gasp, stepping closer to Dean to squeeze his hand. “I never found the strength to take it off, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to, Dean,” I give him a soft smile, silently apologizing for my question. “We all grieve differently. My brother and sister want me to sell the house for years, but I just can’t,” now tears run down my cheeks and I sob when Dean wraps his arms around me.

“Why don’t you keep it, sweetheart?” His voice calms my nerves and I relax in his arms. I feel Dean’s hand run up and down my spine whilst he mumbles softly into my hair. “Will you go for a coffee with me? I’ve missed the girl next door.”

“Okay…”

I just adore him

So I can't ignore him

The boy next door

Tags in reblog

Text divider by @writeyourmindaway

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

(There's No Place Like) Jake's House for Christmas

{I’ve decided to post some Holiday one-shots during this Holiday season!! Leading up to Christmas, I’ll post a one-shot for a few different King Ships so be on the look out!!}

Summary: Cuthbert’s toes were going to break off in a few seconds if he didn’t switch positions but the glittering Christmas lights would never get put up that way. He continued to stand on his tip-toes, pressing the green wire of multi-colored bulbs against their wall. 

He glanced over his shoulder to spot his husband digging through the box of dusty decorations with something like pensive curiosity on his face. Almost as if he had trouble seeing the point in decorating at all, which Cuthbert knew was a very likely possibility. It might irritate him if Roland didn’t flash him genuinely warm smiles every twenty minutes. 

Fandom: The Dark Tower

Ships: Roland/Cuthbert, Jake/Benny, Susannah/Eddie 

Word Count: 6,773

The year of Jake’s 13th Birthday had so far been the busiest one in the Deschain-Allgood household. The husbands had finally managed to gather a regular crowd at their own bar which they’d opened just the previous year (despite all obstacles from outside and inside sources). And just a few weeks shy of Jake’s big day, their old, ‘We’re Homophobic but won’t say it out-loud’ neighbors moved out of the sweet brick house to their right. Roland had helped carry out boxes just to make them uncomfortable one last time. Loving Father and darling son had played an extra long game of catch there in the front-lawn while the old sweethearts ‘politely’ hid their scowls. 

From that point on, dead silence was all that came from next door. Roland had been pleased with the idea of having no obnoxious neighbors coming to replace them but just days before Jake’s birthday, a large moving truck rolled down the street. It had hiccupped like an old man before parking up against the Robinson’s old curb. Cuthbert had just enough time to spy on them through the safety of their large Livingroom window before he was due to open their bar for the night. “Young enough to be our kids, maybe.” He’d wrinkled his nose as Jake observed the couple for himself. 

“You sure that one isn’t yours, dad?” Jake bumped Cuthbert’s arm and gestured to the skinny long-haired man pushing his girlfriend up the walk-way in her wheelchair. They’d stayed silent again for a moment or two, father and son kneeling on the breaking couch. The neighbor turned to get a box then, showing off a t-shirt which read ‘Somebody who hates me went to Colorado & all they got me was this dumbass shirt’. 

Cuthbert and Jake fell into eerily similar sounding hysteric laughter while Roland finally attempted to sneak some glances. 

They’d had to order in that night because Roland burned their dinner. 

More time began to pass and Jake realized he’d have to save himself from the embarrassment of having 1 one incredibly recluse father and 1 overly-social dad and make the first neighborly move all on his own. 

That had been accomplished by playing out in the backyard with Oy on the finest of autumn afternoons. He kept himself busy until he suspected someone on the other side of that wood fence had come out to enjoy the weather. So...

He picked up his catching ball and ‘accidentally’ tossed it over. 

What he hadn’t known was that his neighbor, later introduced as Eddie Dean, had been sitting in a lounge chair positioned perfectly for him to get popped in the shoulder. 

However, Eddie of New York hadn’t cared. He played about 15 minutes worth of catch with Jake until gathering his girlfriend, Susannah, for a formal family introduction. 

Jake didn’t get to hear much of that first conversation they’d had with his Father’s but he didn’t need to. For he’d always had a knack for sensing certain things. What he felt from Eddie and Susannah was an outpour of warmth and determination for life...Jake supposed that was exactly what tied Roland to them so instantly. 

: : : : : : : : : Time had slipped through young Jake’s fingers like the fluffy snow which now fell from the gray clouds hovering above the neighborhood. Silver bells were ringing out for Christmas and the upcoming New year. 

He passed through the cold, dead eyes of many Snowmen on his walk home from the last day of school. He pulled aimlessly at his heavy coat (old and comforting, passed down from Cuthbert) when he felt a sudden jolt of shock that took a bit of his breath away. He didn’t have to look to know who that was. 

There against the white fuzzy sky and curling Jake’s back in a forward hunch was Benny Slightman and his familiar toothy grin. “Merry Christmas Jake!” 

“Gee, thanks Benny.” He did his best to hide his amused expression, trying to look back at him as best as he could. Benny shifted and looped his arms around his neck with ease. “Happy Holidays, here’s a broken back.” He huffed yet hiked the slightly smaller boy up to keep steady. 

Benny only chuckled happily, he felt the breath on his ear as he wiggled his feet. “This isn’t the way to your house...?” 

Jake rolled his eyes as he started to turn around. “Astute observation Benny.” He reached up to move his friend’s hand down to avoid being choked. “I was going to walk past your house to see if I’d run into you and....” 

Another laugh. Benny tightened his grip and enjoyed the sounds of crunching snow under his friend’s feet. He nuzzled his face into the dip between Jake’s cheek and shoulder. 

Those same snowmen from before, with eyes of dull black, watched again as Jake padded back with a boy caught on his back. They, of course, said nothing but stared one. Sometimes from under knit hats but more often they sported simple bald heads. “I have a question for you, Benny.” 

His friend hummed but spoke nothing. 

“My dad’s are having this Christmas party tonight.” He shoved the boy farther up his back, gently. “Our neighbors are coming and everything. Do you wanna come?” The slight hiccup of nerves in his voice was obvious only to him. 

“Sounds fun to me!” 

Jack smiled, holding onto the boy’s legs a bit tighter. ‘Yes. Benny could come. Yes, he could come and play.’

Benny had yet to actually come over to his home. He’d never even seen Roland or Cuthbert--not that Jake had been afraid for such. Benny was purely sweet. Older in years but younger at heart. Jake had no doubt that the boy would be impressed by his fathers. There weren’t very many people in town these days that weren’t. It sounded braggy but Jake took pride in his family. He just didn’t want them to think...-

He’d mentioned his buddy to his parents a few times...at least enough for Cuthbert to insist he invite him over. But for an odd reason, Jake kept on keeping Benny to himself like his own special secret friend. Cuthbert sensed as much considering he gave Jake mini-looks whenever the subject came up. He liked for his son to let-go and behave like a carefree boy and if getting to spend some time away from home with a new friend was the way to this, he’d be ok with that. 

Benny sniffled into his mitten as snow continued to flurry down all around them, standing out against the colorful strings of lights around the streetlamps. Christmas was upon them now but would be over just as quickly. Boy boys silently hoped for a long stand-still pause; one to make the Holiday last much longer. 

“Wanna walk to the Dunkin’ Donuts for hot chocolate?” 

Jake attempted to look back again. “Yeah! I’ll even buy you a doughnut.” He looked both ways once they reached the busy street and allowed Benny to slide off his back and plant his feet on the concrete. 

“What did I do to deserve that?” He teased but Jake just shrugged. 

“Nothing.” He looked off down the distant right and felt a knot of pure joy hit his gut. 

: : : : : : : : :

Cuthbert’s toes were going to break off in a few seconds if he didn’t switch positions but the glittering Christmas lights would never get put up that way. He continued to stand on his tip-toes, pressing the green wire of multi-colored bulbs against their wall. 

He glanced over his shoulder to spot his husband digging through the box of dusty decorations with something like pensive curiosity on his face. Almost as if he had trouble seeing the point in decorating at all, which Cuthbert knew was a very likely possibility. It might irritate him if Roland didn’t flash him genuinely warm smiles every twenty minutes. 

The humble green tree had been set-up in their living room for a week previous to the day Cuthbert announced he wanted to have a Christmas party. Roland had lifted Jake off the floor to hang the star. 

The home--their home--was sort of small but fleshed out with the strapping personalities of the men who’d bought it years ago. It shined during each Christmas season because they had a young boy--who was now a ways past young...

Slowly, he lowered himself down and came upon his husband to kneel next to him. He briefly admired the box which turned out to be filled with the ghosts of Christmas past; macaroni noodle ornaments made by the hands of a boy not too much younger than Jake. “Our son is a teenager.” 

Roland scoffed, thumping his hands past several tongue depressor reindeer. His eyes--heavy with sleep--blinked thoughtfully. 

“Seems like just yesterday he was following you wherever you went.” Cuthbert gently reached for Roland’s hand. “Remember him walking around the house with your boots on-?” He paused, feeling that memory deep in his chest. “I look at him and I see you, Roland.” He began to rub his thumb in smooth circles against the rough skin of his husbands palm. “Being a father looks good on you.” 

“Better on you.” Roland gently slapped Cuthbert’s hand. For a moment they just leaned on each other. “I’m gonna miss driving him everywhere. I already don’t get to tell him stories at bedtime anymore-” Roland shrugged, to anyone but his husband he would only look indifferent but Cuthbert knew he was broken up. 

“There’s time left, Roland. Lots. Do you good to remember that.” He kissed him quickly. “We’ve done good. Combing knots out of his hair...taking him to school.” This time he had to stop himself with a purse of his lips. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who told me he didn’t know he could be a father.” 

Roland looked a mixture of touched and sad. “I still think about that day I dropped him.” 

Cuthbert rolled his eyes but his stomach dropped at the memory-echo of little Jake’s screaming mixing with Roland’s horrified gasps. It’d been shortly after the adoption process. That baby had wiggled his tiny body right out of his new father’s arms and tumbled to the floor. Carpeted but still just about the scariest sound in the world. “That was a long time ago. You wouldn’t ever let him fall again.” He teased but with a genuine smile. 

Roland only smiled back, kissed Cuthbert’s temple and continued to sort through the box. Together they separated what was worth keeping out & what needed to be thrown away. Cuthbert’s dancing snowmen were in the garbage pile for two-minute intervals every twenty minutes before Roland finally gave up.

“Bert?” Roland frowned as he watched his husband carry the snowmen into their bedroom. No answer. “Cuthbert?” still nothing. He frowned, hopping up to chase after him. 

Cuthbert was rooting his hands through their sock draw and occasionally pulling out a few pairs and folding them together. The snowmen were dancing and singing just at his eye-line. It was obviously very amusing to him which Roland couldn’t help but admire. 

Cuthbert’s broken nails caught on threads every few minutes so he’d pull and pull until the thin string would just snap. But on the eighth time he grew a little bit restless and snapped the string. Quickly shutting the drawer afterwards. “Roland?”

He turned to his husband, who was still lazing around behind him like he wasn’t sure how to decorate without direction. He gave him a small smile and walked towards him, putting his hand on his back. Roland looked up at him, waiting for him to speak whatever was on his mind. “Do you think-” he paused for a second before shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

Roland smiled up at him and chuckled. “You say a lot of stupid things, I won’t mind.”

Cuthbert gave him a look that he’d seen a lot of wives give their husbands when they were younger and felt a genuine thrill that he had a husband to be annoyed with now. It was a look of amusement and familiarity. “Well, I was just wondering…” he began again, going back over to the drawers to root around for Christmas socks. “Do you think Jake has something to tell us?” he asked, a little unsure of himself. 

Roland cocked his head to the side and looked lost. “Like what?” He asked, swirling an extra mini string on dead lights in his hand. Cuthbert sighed and leaned back on the drawers behind him. Clasping his hands together, he spoke again.

“Well, he’s been spending a lot of time with that Benny kid….” he trailed off, waiting to see the glaze of realization in his husbands eyes but Roland just smiled.

“Yeah, that’s great. Isn’t it? I’m glad he’s got someone to hang out with, I was getting worried-”

“Roland!” he crossed his arms and the corner of his mouth raised into a small grin. “I mean, do you think the boys….”

Roland still had that clueless look on his face so Cuthbert tried to specify with a look what he had actually meant. “….like each-other?” he finished. 

“No.” Roland answered, definitively. Just like that. Cuthbert was actually a bit hurt by the quick rejection. He raised his brows. 

“That was decisive.” His head shook just the same as the snowmen behind him. “I was only asking because he’s just seemed so happy-”

“Because they are friends.” Roland shrugged. 

“Yes but he keeps him away from us-”

“Jake probably doesn’t want us to embarrass him.” 

Cuthbert scowled at the contestant interruptions. “Yes but they go down to the woods all the time-”

“And? We used to do that all the time too.” Roland shrugged again which defused some of Cuthbert's anger into laughter. 

“We’re married now! We snuck down there to make-out! Don’t you see my point here?” He hunched over to get the last of his hearty laughter out but Roland looked completely annoyed by the whole show. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Good.” He rolled his eyes, shoving the string-lights aside so he could leave the room. 

Cuthbert followed him like a lost puppy, same hurt expression too. “Why is this making you so uncomfortable?” 

Roland turned, just now noticing that Cuthbert had stuck an old (probably rusty) Christmas pin through the earring hole he’d first given himself in the sixth grade. He sighed with a soft expression, now reaching over to unclasp the damn thing before it got infected. 

Cuthbert just moved back as if burned. The pain that cause Roland was obvious on his face. 

“I don’t want to think about him growing up right now, Bert.” His partner’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. There was more to the issue, that they both knew, but it was have to wait for a later period. Now, Cuthbert just brushed his hand against his love’s face and smiled. 

Outside the snow pelted down harder and covered their lawn in a cold blanket of slush. The picture of their son’s growth would surely not freeze but the air surrounding their home most defiantly would. So, Cuthbert decided it was time to make some hot chocolate and cuddle with the man he’s been enamored with since they were small.

“You want a candy cane in yours?” Roland asked, as if reading his thoughts. 

“Yes please.”

A few kisses and a laugh later, the men were guzzling down their warm drinks and waiting for their company to come.

: : : : : : : : :

'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose …’

Benny’s nose twitched almost as if taking cue from the song and Jake thought it had to be the most adorable thing he’d ever seen...He looked back down at his sad little doughnut and sighed. Hot chocolate burned it’s way down his throat while he wondered just what his parents were doing. 

The two boys sat in the lonesome corner of the Dunkin Donut’s where he knew for a fact Benny had once spilled a bottle of strawberry milk all over himself when he was nine. The picture of the incident in his mind made Jake want to giggle. Instead, he watched Benny pull his sweater sleeves over his hands and drink tiny sips of his hot drink.

“Quit your looking at me.” Benny chuckled almost self consciously--though he needn’t be--and tried to flip Jake off with subtlety he never had. It only made Jake feel alive with joy; he kept looking. “You can get a cup of whip-cream for dogs, look-!” Benny cast his eyes over at a couple feeding their little furry-friend at the counter. “We should’ve brought Oy.” 

Jake loved the way Benny absolutely adored his dog just as much as he did. It almost made him feel like they were part of a little unit. “I think you only like me for Oy.” 

Nat King Cole changed to Paul McCartney and Benny bounced a little atop his stool. “He’s a nice bonus.” He chuckled. “But you’re my honest favorite.” Benny leaned in closer over the table. 

Jake surprised himself by letting a blush bled into his cheeks. He quickly looked away.

Benny, as carefree as ever, didn’t seem to notice. “What are your dad’s gonna think of me?” That question shocked Jake. He nearly choked on his doughnut. 

“I guess what they already think of you.” He finished chewing and swallowed carefully under Benny’s watchful eyes. He wanted more, obviously. Jake pounded his fist to his chest. “I’ve never been very good at making friends, to be completely honest Benny. My parents are pretty happy with you.” 

That earned him a smile as white as the snow. “And they haven’t even met me yet!” He struck a bit nervous to Jake in that moment. 

Honestly, Jake couldn’t see how anyone in their right mind could dislike Benny. There was so much the boy found to love in his friend--his openness, appetite for fun, his willingness to work hard when there was chores to do. And there was that yodeling laugh of his--to name just a few things. “I have your Christmas present ready for tonight.” 

Benny was aglow at just the mention. “Me too.” He tapped his bag, which was currently close to sitting in a puddle. Jake chuckled lightly and allowed himself to admire his friend. 

He thought back to the time not so long ago when they’d met. When Jake had been introduced to Benny’s kindly personality. He’d been deeply afraid he would only lose the friendship they had developed so quickly. He’d been a boy who constantly lived in his head and not many kids his age liked him. But surprisingly, Benny had grown quite attached to Jake. Reminding the boy of that John Denver song that Cuthbert sometimes sang around the house... ‘Follow me where I go what I do and who I know. Make it part of you to be a part of me’

Jake let a quick release of air pass his lips in the way Benny used to do when they slept close together at the Slightman household. He was growing attached as well...

“Jake!” 

The boy did not jump...not in the slightest. But Benny nearly jumped to the ceiling, it was quite funny considering the man who shouted was just Father Callahan. The man from Salem’s Lot who now lived here in town with them. 

He was dusting powdery snow from his shoulders and juggling a few bags as he strolled past the counter (for now) to say hello. It looked like a scene straight from the print of a Christmas card. “Good afternoon.” Jake hopped off his stool to help the man set his bags on a nearby table. 

“Oh, thank you.” Callahan smiled, taking off his gloves with an appreciative expression. 

“No problem, Father.” He shrugged then looked back to Benny, looking a bit...shy. Which was a bit odd. “This is my friend, Benny Slightman.” 

Callahan held out a hand and shook with the boy before digging through his bags. Jake watched him with amusement. “Would you like to come to our Christmas party, sir?” 

The man turned, looking a bit touched. “If your parents would have me.” He nodded to himself. “I believe I carry a gift for your Roland in one of these bags.” He huffed. 

“I hope you’ll promise not to have one of those long religious debates with my dad.” Exasperation was hard to keep from his voice. Benny looked like he wanted to chuckle but...he held back for whatever reason. 

Donald Callahan held up his hands in mock surrender. “I promise.” 

: : : : : : : : :

The twenty-three year olds had much more energy than Roland imagined he even had left. He watched--gleefully if you asked Cuthbert--as Susannah and Eddie Dean made their way up the walk to the door. 

They were chuckling already, Roland could hear Eddie singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’. He smiled and opened the door before they could even knock. 

‘Life was funny. Sometimes it delivered you two of the greatest friends a person could have. But it also gave you the inability to voice your genuine thankfulness for their being.’

“Merry Christmas!” Eddie leaned in to smack a kiss against Roland’s rough cheek before moving on to Cuthbert. Roland did not have the time to playfully shove him back before Suzie approached with that special little smile just for him. 

“Happy Holidays old man.” She smiled and accepted a gentle hug before wheeling herself in the open spot next to Cuthbert’s rocking chair. 

Eddie Dean was admiring the tinsel surrounding the kitchen while mixing himself some kind of Christmas drink. Roland watched his friend for a few moments, only meeting his eye when he spilled the eggnog into the sink. He took the time to be grateful that he could share Eddie’s laughter. 

“Where’s Jake?” Suzie craned her neck towards the bedrooms. As she did so, Oy padded his way out of Jake’s and scampered over to jump into her lap. He didn’t usually take to strangers but Eddie & Susannah seemed to be exceptions. 

“Out with his friend, Benny.” Cuthbert took the same drink order which Eddie handed to him without hesitation. “Think he probably invited him over for the party.” He hushed his voice like the topic was a secret. 

From the kitchen, Eddie noticed that with ease as he stirred Roland’s hot chocolate. Standing there in his neighbors--friends--house with his fuzzy snowmen socks pressed against the cold tile, Eddie Dean felt at home. “You ok, big guy?” He slapped the back of his hand to Roland’s hard chest. 

The big guy in question wiped down the splash of eggnog he’d gotten on his shirt and shrugged. He would speak nothing of the stirring inside him, that much Eddie knew. 

“I brought a classic Christmas movie.” He changed the subject for him, popping some kind of snack he’d found into his mouth. He pulled free a DVD case from his back pocket. 

“Star Wars...” Roland squinted like an old man to read “Is not a Christmas movie. Put that away before Cuthbert thumps you.” He chuckled, sipping hesitantly at his drink. 

“Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, thank you very much.” Eddie scoffed. “It takes place on a snow planet. That’s close enough.” He shrugged. “Plus, I’m still mad at your husband for saying the Prequels are better.” 

Roland smiled at the mention of that long debate the two similar men had during their mini Thanksgiving get-together. Eddie had decided the time had come to share his fondness of the movies with his older friends. Jake had gotten a real kick out of watching them go back-and-forth for nearly two hours. “If it were up to me, I’d let you.” He rolled his lips together to taste some more chocolate as he set down the mug. “You know I thought those movies were kind of...cool.” 

Eddie chuckled. “You were a real riot, Roland. Something to say about every scene.” 

“I just like the idea of...a spiritual force binding us together.” His eyes seemed to gloss over. “One that directs us...has a will of it’s own.” He clinked their mugs together before turning around to join his husband and Susannah. 

Eddie pursed his lips together. “I just like the lightsaber fights but whatever.” 

“Come on, Eddie! We’re watching ‘A Christmas Story!’“ Susannah called. 

“Can’t we watch a Christmas movie that isn’t overplayed like...‘Home Alone’ or ‘Scrooged’!” He pretended to pout. “Oooh or ‘Gremlins’!” He bounced on his slippery socks as he plopped right next to Roland. 

“Since when is Home Alone not overplayed?” Susannah rolled her eyes fondly. Delicate flakes of snow continued to fall and press against the glass of the window behind her head.  

“And we can’t watch Gremlins, it scares Roland!” Cuthbert smirked and was immediately rewarding with a hard kick to the ankle. The attempt to hush him did not even phase him. Eddie burst into hysterical laughter. 

Susannah even fell victim to the giggles, leaning over the arm of her chair to try and conceal it. 

“He’s lying. It doesn’t scare me.” Roland thumped his husband on the arm and leaned back on the couch, ignoring his husband mocking him. “Ask Jake.” Cuthbert pretended to nod in agreement but sipped his eggnog suspiciously. 

: : : : : : : : :

Jake gulped down his hot chocolate without considering that Benny might be staring at him. Father Callahan went on to his own table with a peppermint tea to finish sorting through his gifts. They could still hear the shuffling of gift wrap and bags upon bags. 

“Jake?”

The boy finally set down his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The foamy residue was erased in a half-second. Benny had to fight away the thought of tasting that chocolate. Deep down there was a part of himself sparring against the naivety which he’d lived with for years. “Should we wait to walk over with Father Callahan?” 

Jake paused, noticing the tonal shift within his friend. “We could...” He glanced over at the man before going back to Benny with a gentle grin. “But we don’t have to. He could just meet us all there.”

Benny tried not to look too pleased with that answer but found it hard to stop his shy smile as he hid it behind his cup. He watched as Jake went over to say his goodbye to his old friend with nerves building up. 

“We’re good to go.” He threw away the empty cups and grabbed for Benny’s wrist, pulling him out of the Dunkin’ with something like excitement. The touch burned pleasantly at the boy’s skin with hot intensity. For a ridiculous moment, Benny worried Jake might catch the way his pulse was thundering and drop him from his grasp with disgust. He didn’t dare to look at the Father as they darted out. 

Together, they walked a little over a block before either of them spoke again. Benny kept his heart to a calm flutter and thought briefly of the Christmas song Jake was crazy for...‘The moon and stars seem awful cold and bright Let's hope the snow will make this Christmas right...’

The snow was at that point, a thin blanket coating the wet ground. It would soon be the same kind of dangerous ice that his Father had despised. It’d make it hard for him to drive to work, he’d complain with a shaking fist.

Abruptly, Jake turned to face him with his nose a bright color to rival Rudolph’s. He pulled softly at the end of Benny’s sleeve, truly making him all the more endearing. ‘My friend the world will share this special night. Because it's Christmas...’

His eyes were glowing like the festive sparkling bulbs across each house’s rooftops. If he knew of the stunning beauty it made him, Jake showed not. Instead, he just kept swaying their arms in the cold air. 

“Jake?” 

The boy blinked. “Sorry. I was just-” He waved his spare hand by his ear. “I wrote some stuff on your card. But I think I’d rather just say it to you...before we get to my house. If that’s ok?” 

Benny raised his brows but nodded quickly. “Yeah-yes. I’m ok with that.” He smiled, kicking himself for sounding so stupid. Jake smiled, looking confident in a way that Benny couldn’t imagine for himself. His heart thumped down to his gut. 

“First of all, Merry Christmas.” He chuckled, looking embarrassed for the first time in a while. He wiped his free sleeve against his cheek when hot color blossomed underneath. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Benny. I really needed a good one and you’re the best.” He swayed their hands again but did not meet Benny’s eyes. “I really like you.”

Benny couldn’t even begin to convince himself that he didn’t hear Jake’s special inflection or see the way he’d widened his eyes. “I really like you too, Jake.” 

His friend blushed fiercer and let his hand fall from Benny’s sleeve to fully grab onto his hand, interlocking their grip. For a second, the boys couldn’t manage much else but giggling there in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“I’ll race you home?” Jake challenged.

Benny smirked and hugged the boy’s hand tighter, their palms were a sweaty and warm relief from the bitter cold. “You’ll have to let me go.” The party seemed a weary idea now compared to their new found discovery. But as the snow continued to poor down on them, Jake seemed suddenly eager. 

He hesitantly slipped his hand free and blinked up at Benny with curious eyes before launching forward and placing a surprise kiss against his cheek. He pulled back and stood for a mere second before taking off towards his house. 

“That’s cheating, Chambers!” Benny called out, catching a few snowflakes on his lips before chasing after the boy. 

: : : : : : : : :

Eddie was curled up against Susannah with a look of pleasant shock at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. 

Cuthbert lounged right onto Roland’s lap and was heavily making-out with the man in such a...relaxed state. Neither neighbor had ever seen Roland so...open or frisky before. The guy was downright playful in the way that he ran his large hand through Cuthbert’s tangled hair and knocked off his obnoxious Santa hat. 

Susannah smiled for a moment before throwing the DVD case at their heads. “Quit that, will you?” She chuckled when Cuthbert tumbled onto the floor with a smile. She pretended to ignore her husbands thumbs-up directed to a now more in-character Roland, who was looking stern once again. “Your boy will be home any minute.” 

Cuthbert leaned against Roland’s tall leg and grinned. 

As if on cue, the front door creaked open to reveal two red-faced boys as they piled into the home, wiping their boots on the mat. “Hey guys.” Jake bounced inside, greeting Oy with rushed excitement. His friend stayed back by the doorway with a shy expression. Eddie waved, hoping to ease the kid. 

“This is Benny Slightman.” Jake reached out for his friend from his place, kneeling in front of Oy, and urged him forward. 

Roland shifted in the arm chair, both Eddie and Susannah noticed the uncomfortable look on his face. Eddie felt a sudden urge to go over and ask him about it. However, Cuthbert crossed the room to shake the kids hand before anyone could do anything else. 

“Cuthbert, Jake’s Dad.” He grinned, the beautiful one of his. He pointed to his Husband. “That’s Roland, his other Dad. Over there are our neighbors, Susannah and Eddie Dean.” 

Benny nervously shifted on his feet and nodded. Susannah smiled kindly and was close enough to offer her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Benny. You boys want to watch ‘Home Alone two’ with us?” She asked kindly, not knowing this had immediately endeared her to the kid. Benny decided just then that he really liked her. 

Jake gave Oy a final pat before stealing a glance to Roland. “Maybe we’ll join later. Benny and I are gonna go exchange gifts in my room.” 

Roland seemed to consider the statement with some kind of tension hanging in the air. Nothing necessarily bad...just a bit awkward though for once in his life, Jake didn’t seem to notice anything was off. “Alright.” He took a long sip of his coffee and smiled back when Jake rewarded him with one. 

The boy ushered his friend into the other room and quickly shut the door behind them. 

“And what did I say?” Cuthbert asked, a smirk on his face but Roland didn’t seem too amused. He looked blankly at the closed door before excusing himself for a refill. Eddie watched Cuthbert deflate and felt a pang of sadness for him.

He got up, Susannah urging him to follow Roland, and went straight for the kitchen to chase the pacing man. “What’s up with you?” He asked, sparing his own look to Jake’s closed door. 

“Nothing.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and dug his fingers into an open bag of cookies left on the counter by Cuthbert earlier. He wasn’t the biggest fan of Peppermint but the taste was actually quite nice on his hot tongue. Ignoring his friends obvious attempt to shut down the conversation, Eddie blocked the doorway. “I’m not an idiot, you know?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Eddie.” Roland corrected himself with that special classy asshole tone of his. Nothing couldn’t possibly piss Eddie off quicker than that voice. 

“Just when I think we’re getting to be close, you shut me down.” He scowled and swallowed a particularly minty chunk of cookie. “I wonder how Cuthbert feels being married to someone so...”

“So what?” Roland’s wise eyes crinkled with anger. 

“So guarded...so solitary.” Eddie flicked his tongue accusingly and nearly choked on the cookie crumbs lingering in his mouth. Part of him found it disgustingly strong and wanted to spit up the remnants into the silver sink. But he held that back in favor of appearing non-idiotic. 

Roland huffed and blew past his skinnier friend and treaded his way back to the lounge seat. 

“Oh no, Don’t waltz back in here if you’re all worked up.” Susannah’s voice came from a ways off, making Eddie smile despite the annoyance flaring up inside him. He could always count on his wife. 

Eddie followed in shortly after and plopped down next to Cuthbert who was looking just as irritated when he leaned over to whisper; “Suzy thinks Roland has some internalized homophobia to work-out.” 

Eddie raised a brow. “The dude is married to a man, how can he be homophobic?” He asked, feeling that dreaded idiotic feeling again. 

Taking another invisible cue, the doorbell rang and was used as Roland’s next distraction. 

Father Don Callahan & a handsome friend entered behind a small pile of Christmas printed bags. 

: : : : : : : : :

Benny ran his hand through his hair, feeling through the soft curls. He found that he did that more and more, especially when he was nervous. The heat from just his nerves alone was getting close to unbearable. He shed his larger coat (finally) and placed it awkwardly in his lap. 

Though, Jake simply reached out to swipe it and threw it across his bed (blue sheets) with a smile thick with teeth. “Merry Christmas, Benny.” He placed a delicate present (silver wrapping) between their criss-crossed legs. 

His hands shook but his smile never faltered because Jake was just about the cutest Benny had ever seen him. He watched nervously as he playfully shook the gift. 

Unwrapping slowly, bending the paper under his curled fingers and enjoying that attention…was NOT of his nature. Not at all. Benny tore open the gift with anxiety pouring out of him like sweat.

Laying atop a bed of fluff was one of those spinner rings he’d talked about just a couple weeks ago. It stared up at him, shining into his eyes. 

“You said you wanted to try one of them to help with your fidgeting.” Jake grinned before scooting closer to pick it from the bed and hold it out for his friend. Benny slowly slid his ring finger into the cold silver with a warm blush taking over his cheeks. 

“I got one with paw prints on it...cause you only like me for my dog, you know?” He chuckled, backing off slightly to watch Benny’s reaction. 

“Rad.” A horrible word really. But it was just the one to pop into his mind like a dumb old jack-in-the-box. Benny cringed but quickly laughed it off. “I mean, Thanks, Jake. I love it. Thank you!” He spun the metal and watched the prints blur. “Your turn, now!” He reached into his own bag and handed over a medium sized green box. The red ribbon glittered under the light. 

The boys had gone for the same theme, it seemed. Jake pulled free a silver ornament in perfect likeness to Oy by it’s velvety red loop. Though Benny felt a renewed sense of inferiority as he spun his ring, Jake’s eyes light up. He cradled his hands under the ornament with that shy smile of his. 

“It’s lame, I know, to get someone an ornament for Christmas...” Benny frowned. “Your gift-”

"It's not a competition, Benny. Besides..." Jake turned back to look at the ornament that was now laying in the tissue paper. "I love it, you know me so well." He chuckled before biting into his cheek and turning slightly, to face Benny fully. He opened his mouth to say something but Benny was quicker to voice his own thought.

“Do you want to go back to watch the movie...?” He gestured to the door. 

“Do you?” Jake countered. 

No. He did not. Benny really wanted to keep their illusion of privacy up for just a little longer. His heart was doing flips in his chest just at the thought of it. “No...” He giggled. “But I get the sense that you’ll be missed, Jake.” 

The boy shrugged. “Ok. We’ll go watch.” They set their gifts onto Jake’s nightstand and went for the door but before either of their hands could curl around the gold, Jake leaned over and gently kissed Benny’s cheek. 

It was quick and devastatingly soft. But very, very important to both of them.

: : : : : : : : :

The two boys ended up on the couch with a blanket tossed over them by Cuthbert, only one so of course they had to squish together or else one of them would be too cold.

Jake had somehow found himself with Benny’s sleeping head resting on his shoulder by the second movie. Not that he minded it at all. Benny had a candy cane hanging out of the side of his mouth that he occasionally twirled around. But was now slipping from the corner of his lips. 

Roland watched Jake, who was watching Benny, with a feeling of...discomfort(?) that even he didn’t understand. 

“Please free that cane before it goes down the kids throat, Jake.” Susannah chuckled. The boy chuckled and when he slipped the red & white candy out, Benny shook himself awake.  

“Sorry.” 

“S’fine.” Jake grinned and let his gaze linger. Benny looked around for that Father Callahan, who’d been in the kitchen when he fell asleep, and found him basically curled up with that friend he’d brought; Lupe. 

Benny widened his eyes. “Is he gay?” He snapped his head over to whisper to Jake, who’d started to cackle. 

“Yeah, he is.” He wiped his sleeve across his mouth to settle down. “We’re you worried he was...homophobic?” His brow raised as he remembered how off his friend became in that Dunkin’ when ol’ Father Don Callahan came over. 

“Yes!” 

The boys dissolved into a privately shared laugh as Oy jumped onto the couch next to them.

Cuthbert plopped down into Roland’s lap and gently ran his fingers down his shoulder as they just watched their son. “Are you alright?” 

Roland nodded, pulling his eyes away and towards his handsome husband who was cuddling down next to him despite the limited seat room. It would be annoying if it were anyone else on earth but for Cuthbert, Roland loved like Cupid. 

He kissed the top of his head and hid behind it slightly as the intro to ‘Gremlins’ played on their small TV. “I hate you.” He mumbled into Cuthbert’s hair. 

He hummed. “I love you too.” He leaned back and kissed Roland’s jaw. “Merry Christmas.” 

Outside, the snow had slowed considerably but the ground was not visible under the thick blanket given from the sky. 

[mila-dans]

Spells Out Trouble: Beautiful Sunday

This is chapter seven of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!

Chapter Six: Up Around the Bend

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 2727

Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.

Just so you know: This is my first Fanfic so sorry if there are aspects missing. “Spells Out Trouble” is a series with about ten chapters. This chapter is a bit different from the rest but I hope you like it just the same. There again is a song sung in this chapter (that I do not own the rights to!). It is called “I Think I Love You” and is performed by The Partridge Family. I would advise listening to it prior. If you have any suggestions or tips, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it!

“Hey.”

You hear a faint whisper but brush it off as nothing.

“Hey, Y/N.”

The voice continues. You shift in the bed, still keeping your eyes shut and unwilling to wake up.

“Y/N, wake up. We gotta go.”

“Mrmp,” you mumble out. You take a relaxing sigh and bury yourself even deeper in the pillow.

“Listen,” the voice says as you feel a nudge on your arm. “Y/N.” You open your eyes and see Dean with his hand on your shoulder, looking at you so intensely. “We’re gonna miss it.” He smiles as you start to move around a bit more.

“What… What’s, um, what?” You say as you sit up and rub your eyes. Dean is standing and puts some items in a bag. The room is dark with the only light coming from the open door.

“Hey, beautiful. We got to get a move on,” Dean says as he reaches for your hand to help you move around the dim room. You take it and stand up, almost falling as you try to stretch. “Woah,” Dean says as he pushes you back from falling. “Take it easy there.”  

“What’s going on, Dean?” You ask as you finally become aware and out of your sleepy state. You look around the room and to an alarm clock. “Two A.M.!” You say, confused after realizing you laid down only an hour ago. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s kind of early. But it’s a long drive.”

“What? Long drive? What’s happening? Why’d you wake me up?” You ask as you start to sit back down on bed, tempted to crawl under the covers.

Dean stands you back up and hands you your jacket and looks at you with a smile, “It's a surprise.”

You look at him even more confused. You were never good at the whole wide alert thing after waking up. You trusted Dean, so you put on your jacket, and followed him down the halls and to the garage.

“Come on,” he said as he opened Baby’s passenger door for you to get in.

“Dean, just tell me what’s going on. Is something wrong with Sam? Or Cas?” You ask as you get in the vehicle.

“No,” he says with a laugh. “Sam’s asleep and Cas is fine last time I checked.” Dean gets in the car and starts the engine. You start to get comfortable in the seat, trying to go back to sleep.

“Well, if Sam gets to sleep, then so do I,” you say as you enact your words, quickly drifting back to sleep in the Impala.

------------------

You wake up abruptly as you hear the car door slam shut. You sit up and look around in the empty car. It’s parked at a gas station and you assume that Dean is inside. You take a deep breath and try to rub the sleep out of your face. You look around in the car trying to see if anything is out of the ordinary. In the backseat, you see a cooler, a thermal bag and a blanket rolled up into a ball. You rub your eyes again, noticing how still very dark it is outside.

“What the hell?!” You say as you see that it is only three thirty in the morning. You try to think of why in the world you were doing out so late, or early. And what Dean meant by a surprise. You let out another tired yawn and let yourself think for a moment. 

“Oh,” Dean says as he opens the door and gets in. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.” He smiles at you and sets down a tray of coffee.

“Okay,” you take a breath, “I think I know what’s going on here.”

“You--You do?” Dean asks, surprised.

“Yes. You are kidnapping me aren’t you? That’s what all this is, isn’t it?! You woke me up in the middle of the night and are taking me god knows where at what the hell time in the morning.” You look at Dean who stares frozen. “Listen, I’m not mad at you, Dean. I just think that it’s best if we go back to the bunker and forget this all happened. Okay? I won’t tell Sam or Cas, just take me back ho--”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Dean cuts you off.

“Yes, you are!” You nod your head as if believing that you have soiled his plan.

“No, I’m not.” You look at him confused. “Yes, I am taking you somewhere but I’m not kidnapping you. I just want to show you something that’s a surprise that I don’t want to spoil. But if you really wanna go back then I’ll take you back if it’s what you really want.”

“So you aren’t kidnapping me?” You ask as he nods his head no. “And you just want to take me somewhere?” He nods yes. 

“Unless you want to go back.”

“No. No, I think I wanna stay.”

Dean looks at you and smiles. “Good, that’s uh, good.” He starts the car and goes through a box of tapes. “And now that you’re up, we can play some music.” He puts in a tape that has ‘special occasions’ labeled on it. He starts to drive back on the road as the music plays. 

It was different music than you usually heard him listen to. It had a mix of Bob Seger, of course, Jim Croce, very odd, Leo Sayer, extremely odd, and Waylon Jennings, which kind of made sense. You knew some of the songs due to your own father’s taste in music, and the ones you didn’t know, he would continue to sing them to you until you did. But, there was one song that you had loved as a kid and it brought back memories as well as some thoughts on how similar the lyrics were to a situation you had come across.

“You know this one?” Dean asked as the music to “I Think I Love You” started to play.

“Oh, do I know it?” You asked sarcastically. “Do I know it”--I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream, like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain. Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head and spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread.

I think I love you! You and Dean sing in sync.

I think I love you! Dean sings backup. This morning I woke up with this feeling, I didn't know how to deal with and so I just decided to myself, I’d hide it to myself and never talk about it and did not go and shout it when you walked into the room.

I think I love you!

I think I love you! You sing backup.

I think I love you so what am I so afraid of, I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for. I think I love you, isn’t that what life is made of though it worries me to say that I never felt this way.

You and Dean laugh for a moment as the instrumental plays.

“So you do know it?” Dean chuckles.

“Maybe just a little bit,” you smile in return.

“Oh yeah,” Dean says sarcastically. “Just a little bit. Sure.”

“Well you don’t know if I know the whole song. I haven’t even sang it.”

“Yet.” Dean smiles at you and shakes his head. I don’t know what I’m up against. I don’t know what it’s all about. I got so much to think about.

Hey! You belt out.

I think I love you so what am I so afraid of, I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for. I think I love you, isn’t that what life is made of. Though it worries me to say, I never felt this way.

You laugh at Dean and smile as you continue to sing. Believe me, you really don’t have to worry.

He laughs in return. I only want to make you happy and if you say “hey go away” I will

But I think better still I’d better stay around and love you

Do you think I have a case, let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?

I think I love you

I think I love you

I think I love you

I think I love you

I think I love you 

I think I love you

I think I love you

I think I love you

You and Dean break out into uncontrolled laughter as the music ends.

“That was, um…” You smile, unable to explain your joy.

“It was award worthy!” Dean continues.

“Yeah, sure, if you call award worthy being you unable to hit the high notes even when you try so hard.” You chuckle.

“Hey!” Dean says sarcastically and defensively. “I thought I did pretty good. And I don’t get a lot of practice when it comes to this song.”

“What do you mean? Do you not serenade Sam and Cas with this song?”

“Pft, yes actually. I make sure to wake up bright and early just so I can sing to them as a morning wake up call.”

“I’d pay money to see that performance!” You and Dean laugh for a moment.

“So how do you know the song? Did you sing it to your high school sweetheart or was it at drunk karaoke?”

You let out a small chuckle. “Neither, surprisingly. My, uh, Dad used to sing it to me before I went to sleep. Whenever I would get scared at night, he would come into my room and sing all different songs to me to try and put me to sleep. That was one of the, many, songs that he would sing.”

“Oh,” Dean says with a saddened tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry! I actually haven’t heard that song since, well, forever. It was nice. And I know the last time I talked about certain things involving my dad to you, I was messed up, but now, now I’m better. I’m not perfect but I’m allowing myself to heal.”

“That’s good, Y/N. That’s really good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“But um, there’s something you should know,” Dean says with a worried tone.

“What? What is it?”

“I um, I, I think I love you!”

“Oh, can it Winchester!” You hit Dean on the shoulder.

------------------

You and Dean had driven for another hour, singing the whole time, but finally arrived, somewhere.

“Close your eyes!” Dean shouts as you start to pull into a long stretch of gravel road.

“What?” You ask as you turn your attention towards him, met with his hands covering your eyes.

“Don’t look! Shut your eyes!”

“Okay! Okay! Just keep both hands on the wheel,” you say as you put your hand up to your eyes, smacking Dean’s away. “Why are you making me cover my eyes?”

“Cause it’s a surprise.”

“I know, but why won’t you just let me look now?”

“Because it’s not time ye--crap! We gotta go!” Dean says as he steps on the gas, speeding the car. 

“Woah! Woah! Slow down Vin Diesel!” You start to take your hand away from your face.

“No! Don’t look! We’re almost there!” Dean said as you drove for about another minute or two.

-----------------

“Okay, okay!” Dean said as he opened your car door while you stepped out of it, still covering your eyes. “Watch your step.”

You step out of the car and feel the dirt and sand like texture beneath your feet. You knew you were out somewhere west of Lebanon but not keen as to where exactly. You stood still as Dean ordered you to wait while he got something out of the back.

“Come on,” he ordered as he took your free hand and guided it through what seemed like a maze. “Here! No, wait,” he moved to another spot, “Here! No, wait, that’s not it.” He moved around more and more, trying to decide on where to be.

“Dean! Just pick a spot.”

“Right. Um,” he takes your hand and gets you to sit down on the ground. “Right here. Now um, take your hand away.” You do so as he places his hands in front of your eyes. He sits to your left, behind you, on the blanket that he had laid out.

“Dean…”

“Shh, it’s almost here.” He lets his hands move further away from your eyes slowly.

You see the blanket, your legs, the dirt and grass. Dean tilts your head up slowly and you see it. You see a huge rock that has a little hole in it like an eye of a needle.

“It’s...It’s amazing!” You say at the beautiful sight. You turn back to him and smile. He moves your face away from him and towards the rock.

“Just, wait,” he says.

The darkness in the night sky slowly starts to light up. You see it. The beautiful sunrise that paints the sky with glorious light. The sun comes up right in the eye of the rock. The perfect spot. You watch as the dark gets engulfed in light. The puddle of water that was left in front of you by rain, sparkled. You saw two suns. Two gorgeous sights. It was marvelous. You stared at the sight for as long as you could without becoming blind.

“It--It,” you sigh. “It’s beautiful.”

Dean looks at you to inspect your face and says, “Yes, it is.” You continue to stare at the sight. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It's gorgeous. Amazing. I love it.”

You look back at Dean and nod in agreement. “Yeah! It’s awesome!” Dean smiles at you. You wrap your arms around him without thinking. “Thank you,” you say as you look in his eyes.

“Uh, yo--you’re welcome.” He returns the hug and wraps his arms around you. You fall into him as you return your gaze to the sun filled skies. He starts to play with your hair as you lay your head against his chest. “Do you want something to eat?” He looks down at you and asks.

“No,” you say as you sigh with contentment. “I’m good. I’m great.” 

You look up at him and smile as he looks off to the sun. You notice his glowing green eyes. They are sparkling, shining, in the sun’s presence. You notice his still pale complexion. It looks better. You look at his beard that he has grown out. It’s small but different. His hair was parted different too. It looked like he didn’t care to spike it up like he normally would. It laid flat on top of his head. It actually looked good. You can see all of his freckles peaking through. You could get lost trying to count them. They spread all over his face from his cheeks to the bridge of his nose. His nose was where they were most prominent. His face was glowing.

He continued to comb through your hair so gently and slowly. Your eyes started to flutter as they became more heavy. You could smell Dean’s musk. It wasn’t bad. It was comforting. It relaxed you whenever you would be close with him. You kept looking towards the sky, taking it all in. It was so breathtaking. It felt so good to have your hair played with. It was so warm being in Dean’s clutches. The rhythm of his heart soothed you. Your eyes became too heavy for you to hold them open any longer.

-----------------

You remember staying at the beautiful site for a while longer as you laid there, still and up against Dean. You remember holding onto his arm as you walked back to the car, trying not to fall over. You remember him playing your song again as you fell even deeper to sleep. You remember him placing your head in his lap as he drove all the way home. You remember him grabbing under your legs and back as he carried you bridal style into the bunker and to his room. You remember him setting you down gently in his bed as you remained relaxed and undisturbed. Lastly, you remember getting cold and shivering, then all the sudden becoming warm and wrapped in a comforter. And asleep you were.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list is open!

@crazybutconfidentaf @doctorlilo @pillowjj @busy-bee-angel-misska @vicmc624 @sl33pybo1​

Chapter eight: Long Train Runnin’

[winchester-purgatory]

Summary: Sam finally proposes to Jess

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Christmas proposal

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore

Word Count: 1703

Warnings: None needed 

The alarm went off, blaring and beeping, echoing in their bedroom, stirring Sam from his sleep. He groaned, but didn’t move, still tired.

He and Jess had gone to bed late last night due to an office party at the law firm where he interns. It was kinda boring, most employees being in their forties and up, but Jess was there to make it better - and report about the two employees she caught having a drunken affair on her way to the bathroom. He even had managed to win one of the prizes of the night, a bottle of expensive whiskey, which he'll give to Dean as an additional Christmas present, not being a whiskey drinker.

As tempting as it was to hit snooze, he already hit it two times which meant it was around 10 o'clock.

''Make it stop,'' Jess sleepily complained from behind him, facing the opposite side of the alarm clock. She tried to tug at the comforter in hopes to hide underneath and block the loud noise, but it was hogged by Sam's weight, being a blanket hogger. ‘’Sam!’’

Forcing his eyes open, he reached out to turn the alarm off, making them both sigh in relief. This alarm might do a good job at waking them from a deep sleep, but its sound is damn annoying when it’s a day off.

Sam rolled over and kissed her shoulder tenderly, wrapping his arms around her, not ready to leave the bed yet. The blonde hummed, leaning into her lover's touch. ‘’Five more minutes,’’ she mumbled, eyes still closed.

A chuckle rumbled from Sam’s chest. Okay. Five more minutes.

‘’I’m so glad we got out of hosting the Christmas dinner - again. No need to wake up early and stress with the food or setting everything up,’’ Jess declared, feeling very cosy.

''This apartment is way too small for a Christmas gathering anyway. Where would the guests sit? We don't even have a proper dinner table.''

‘’We could put Cas and Charlie in the living room and Dean and Claudia on the balcony. The patio set should still be there,'' Jess suggested with amusement.

‘’I can already hear him complaining about the snow falling into his beer or that his ass is starting to feel numb from sitting on the metal chairs in the cold.’’ Sam chuckled, imagining the scene perfectly. ‘’It’s better at Dean’s place. He always gets way too drunk and I wouldn’t see Claudia hauling him in the car and to their house. He'd crush her with his dead weight.’’

Although they've been living together for four years, slow mornings like this were rare. Morning where they could sleep in, be lazy in bed and cuddle. They always had to rush to get to class or work - and sometimes even on the weekend on Jess' end, a perk of being a nurse.

Whenever it would happen, they liked to cherish every minute and sometimes even have breakfast in bed. It was a guilty pleasure.

Not today though, as ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 40th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

Their laughter was cut short when a ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 50th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

That interruption was the signal that morning cuddles were officially over and they should get started with their day. ‘’I’ll go shower while you talk to her.’’ Sam got up, fetching some clean clothes from the top of the dresser.

''I'll join you if you finish before you,'' Jess said with a smile and a wink before answering her phone. ''Hi, Mom, how's the preparations going? Has Dad started early on the eggnog again?''

Sam looked down and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

.

When Sam returned to the bedroom, Jess was finished with her call. She had opened the curtains and snow was falling outside, dusting a light coat of white in the streets.

She pouted, seeing him half dressed with a towel over his hair. ‘’Already? I was about to join you.’’

''Sorry... How's your mom?'' he asked while dry toweling his hair.

''She's doing good. She's pretty disappointed we won't be joining them for Christmas this year - again. Plane tickets are just so expensive during this time of the year and, no offense babe, but your car wouldn't last the trip.''

Sam chuckled, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. ''It's okay. I know it's crap. Dean reminds me every single time he sees my car and its damaged bumper.''

''She wishes us a jolly christmas eve...and not-so-subtly asked if she has a wedding to plan.'' Jess huffed a laugh, still hearing the echoes of her mother wondering how they weren't engaged after being together for five years. ''At least she didn't ask if I was pregnant.''

''Maybe she does.''

''What? Sam, I’m not pregnant. I’d know if I were-’’

‘’No! Not that.’’ He shook his head. ‘’The part about planning a wedding.’’

‘’I think you skipped a step here: we need to be engaged first.’’

‘’Let’s do it now.’’

‘’Sam-’’

‘’I'm dead serious, Jess! I've been thinking about it for a couple months already. I even got a ring...''

Jess' eyebrows pulled into a confused frown, trying to process all this new information. ''What?'' she asked, eyes rapidly filling with various emotions.

Sam stood and went to their closet, fetching the old box filled with memories from his years at college from the back, and pulled out the blue velvet box where the ring was perfectly resting. He opened the small box and stared at the dainty, simple band with diamond in the middle and nodded. It's time.

His palms were getting sweaty as he returned to the bed, feeling nervous. He wasn't nervous about Jess possibly saying no. He knew she'd say yes, she already made that clear. It's just that Jess deserved the best and Sam wanted the proposal to be perfect. He was afraid of messing up and getting his on-the-moment speech wrong.

Sensing his nervosity, Jess took his hand and tugged him back on the bed. She looked up at him and smiled, sparkles of joy already in her eyes even though he hadn't popped the question and she hadn't seen the ring yet. The beaming look on her face told him this was the rightest thing he'll ever do. He was gonna marry this girl.

''Jess. Since I got that ring, I kept practicing how to present the question and trying to find the right way to propose, the right moment, but I think this is it.’’

10 o’clock on Christmas Eve morning wasn’t your typical ‘perfect’ proposal, but Sam didn’t want to wait anymore. Dean had suggested he’d do it tonight at his place, but Sam didn’t like the idea of a crowd - even his closest friends and brother - watching them. He liked privacy and, what’s more private than between your four bedroom walls? 

‘’This might sound cheesy and overused in proposal speeches, but I wouldn't be who I am today without you. When we met, I was in a bad place. I had gotten into a really bad fight with my father about my future and moved all the way to california to follow my dream. I was miserable and lonely, but there you were in that diner, golden curls and sparkling blue eyes, serving coffee to pay off your tuition. I came to this diner every day for weeks although I was short on money solely so I could see you.'' Sam paused, realizing how stalker-ish his behaviour sounded. ''Unlike the guy at table seven, I wasn't there to ogle your body in your waitress uniform. I was there for the bright smile on your face and to hear your laugh because it was the only thing that would brighten my dark grey sky.''

The blonde reached out and squeezed Sam's hand, remembering the tough times. Freedom hadn’t tasted sweet the first couple months. It was very dark and lonely and difficult on every end. Sam had been long tormented by his past, always thinking about his brother and father he left behind, the absence of support from them.

‘’I remember when I first brought you to my dorm. Collin couldn’t believe I caught a girl like you, so...out of my league. The nerd doesn’t get the hot girl in our world,’’ he said in an attempt to make a joke. ‘’It’s been the two of us since college. Can it be the two of us forever now? You pull me out of my comfort zone and make me do things I would never do on my own without forcing me into anything. You motivate me when my hopes are down, you make me smile when I feel down, make me feel special when I feel alone and misunderstood. You were my home when I had no home to go to. You’re the first girl I loved.’’

There had been girls before Jess. Amy Pond when he was twelve. It didn’t last long, barely over a month, but it still counted. Penelope Svenson, the girl from the café in his hometown. They never went past the first date. She was too self-centered for him. And Rachel Nave, his prom date, who hooked up with his brother on prom night. Thanks Dean. 

Looking back, those relationships were insignificant. 

‘’Remember the night I reserved us a table at this fancy restaurant? I had been saving for weeks to take you there on our anniversary, But when the day came, I couldn’t get myself out of bed and had to cancel. You showed up to my dorm, all dressed up and excited for our date. I felt so bad. I thought you'd be upset and slam the door on your way out, but you just smiled and said we'd go another time. You even stayed in my dorm and we cuddled and watched movies on my busted laptop. That’s when I knew you were the one for me.''

A small frown creased on the blonde’s forehead, remembering that night in Sam’s crusty dorm perfectly. ‘’Sam, that was over four years ago.’’

He looked down and nodded. ‘’I know. You stayed when others would’ve left and that meant a lot to me. It showed me you weren’t only with me for the good and that I could be fully myself with you - no holding back.’’ Sam paused, the velvet box feeling warm and kinda sticky in his clammy hands. ''Jessica Lee Moore, will you marry me?’’

[mittensmorgul]

5.11, Sam, Interrupted. Right on the heels of seeing their roles in the story from an outside perspective, we shift in the complete opposite direction, into a deep internal perspective.

Still, there's a primary manipulative force. Only it's manipulating them from the inside instead of from the outside. And Sam and Dean "pretend" to be insane to get themselves admitted to a psych hospital believing they're actually in control the entire time, when they were basically screwed and being manipulated from the moment they had their intake exams...

Hello, wraith!

(heh, and the creature I took my AO3 handle from, so maybe this gives folks some insight as to why I chose that name now... manipulating TFW and readers from the inside since 2015... my new catch phrase I guess?)

They're Sam and Dean get admitted for telling the absolute truth, about the apocalypse, monsters, angels, demons.

SAM: Okay. Look...um...last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me. DEAN: (rolls his eyes) Oh, come on, Sam. Stop. Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me. SAM: Dean-- DEAN: Ellen and Jo dying--Yeah, it was a friggin' tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it. SAM: Dean, you always do this. You can't just keep this crap in. DEAN: (chuckles) Watch me.

Yeahhhhhhh... that won't lead to problems down the line... I mean, we've talked for years about Dean's chats with his psychiatrist, who turns out to be entirely a hallucination on his part, and just how flippant he is about his own problems, so I probably don't need to dwell on that here. Or on the fact that this is a Dabb episode, wherein it's made completely obvious that the doctor who tries to separate Dean and Sam for their own good, because they're "dangerously codependent" is thought for a good while to be the monster, partly because of that assessment... when like... he was completely innocent and literally just doing his job pointing out the obvious. Their codependence has broken the world how many times now? Yeah... they definitely really could do with some time apart.

(throws up in my mouth a little bit thinking about the conversation I accidentally got myself wrapped up in a week or two ago with people who were upset at the thought that Sam and Dean wouldn't end up sharing a heaven and like.... hoooooly fuck we see this show from very different perspectives...)

Meanwhile, some of the narrative manipulation can be summed up quite tidily through some of their interactions with other patients:

--the girl who wanders the halls randomly kissing them, first Dean, and then Sam, because he's bigger... --Ted and the other patients in Sam's group therapy session: TED: (lowers his hand) I am calm. And I'd very calmly like to talk about the monster that's hunting us. DR. FULLER: Ted, we're not going to have that discussion again. It's not good for group. TED: I agree. You know what else isn't good for group? A monster eating all our faces off. DR. FULLER: Alright, fine, thank you. Now, anyone else? TED: I saw it...when it killed Susan. OTHER PATIENT: I did, too. It had big lobster claws. TED: No, it didn't. OTHER PATIENT: Yeah, and it was an alien, like on X-Files. TED: Stop it. Stop helping. Listen to me. We're all dead! DR. FULLER: That's enough. (leans forward, taking off his glasses) There is no monster.

"STOP HELPING!" Ted says. Because the lies aren't actually helping here. The other patients are just making stuff up, whether for attention or because they can't help themselves, but Ted is actually telling the truth, which gets drowned out and dismissed as just more delusional ravings. And then he ends up as the wraith's next victim.

Truth, lies, what's the real story here? And how do you see the truth? In mirrors.

YOU SEE THE TRUTH IN MIRRORS.

Except, sometimes the wraith can even affect what you see in the mirror-- both about yourself and others. For example, even Dean's entirely mentally invented doctor shows up in the mirror with him. She makes Dr. Fuller appear as a wraith, fueling their mistaken belief that he's the monster. And then when the wraith is closing in on them and knows they're on to her, she makes EVERYONE appear as wraiths in the mirror so she can continue hiding in plain sight, while also driving Dean's paranoia through the roof.

Dean, trying to convince the doctor he's fine, she starts throwing all the accusations he's had burning guilty holes in him for a long time:

DR. CARTWRIGHT: Come on, even you don't believe that. All this pressure that you're putting yourself under, all this guilt; it's killing you. You can't save everybody. You can't. (her voice becomes hard) Hell, these days, you can't save anybody, Dean. (turns to leave) DEAN: What did you say? DR. CARTWRIGHT: (turns back to him) The truth, Dean. You got Ellen and Jo killed. You shot Lucifer, but you couldn't gank him. DEAN begins to get confused and a little afraid. DR. CARTWRIGHT: You couldn't stop Sam from killing Lilith, and--oh, yeah--you broke the first seal. All you do is fail. Did you really think that you, Dean Winchester with a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, were gonna beat the devil? DEAN gets a little more afraid. DR. CARTWRIGHT: Please. The world is gonna burn, and there is nothing that you can do about it. DEAN: Who are you? (voice rising) How do you know that stuff?

but it's then that he begins to realize just how bad he's been messed with:

DR. CARTWRIGHT: I'm not real, Dean. I'm in your head...because you are going crazy.

and he literally goes and huddles in a corner, having completely lost his grip on reality.

Meanwhile, Sam gets confronted by the real doctor, and has his problems listed off to him:

SAM: Yeah. Thanks. I, um...I just wanted to apologize. I feel horrible about what I did to you. I thought you were a monster. DR. FULLER: I know that. The question is, why? SAM: I was...It doesn't matter, um...because after what happened last night, I had a...moment of clarity. I realized...there's no such thing as monsters. DR. FULLER: Well, I'm glad to hear you say that, but, honestly? Monsters are the least of your problems. People can learn to live with delusions, but the anger I saw in you...You hurt those two men, and you were going to kill me. The look in your eyes when you came after me, I...It was like you were barely even human...like a man possessed.

like a man possessed... lol >.> Again, how much is is foreshadowed that Sam is due for Bad Things, and Dean will be left collapsed by his own guilt and loss by the end of the season? Especially as Dean sits nearly catatonic at a table in the corner while Sam starts an imaginary fight inside his own mind and gets himself dragged off to isolation. Dean, however, is still coherent enough to put together the clues and hunt down the wraith despite being drugged and manipulated by her.

At first he mistakenly believes they were infected by Wendy the random kissing patient, but they arrive at her room in time to watch the actual wraith attack her. Martin creates a distraction and tells Dean that he needs to go kill the wraith, but he's received a MASSIVE dose of her venom and can barely walk. Yet he is determined.

MARTIN: You've gotta get out there and kill that thing. I'll take care of her. MARTIN'S voice echoes in DEAN'S ears. DEAN: (shakes his head) I can't. MARTIN: You have to. You have no choice, son. The two orderlies walk in and grab MARTIN, who fights back. The orderlies are distracted by MARTIN. MARTIN: Go. Dean, run! Run!

And what the wraith tells Sam is interesting, too:

SAM: You did this to me! THE WRAITH: Well, I helped. But that rage? No, no, no. That's all you. I don't make crazy. I just crank up what's already there. You build your own hell, but I give you the Legos. And when you're ripe... I make all of your problems disappear.

And this terrifies Sam, because he knows she's right:

SAM: She was right. DEAN: No, she wasn't. She's dead, okay? Let's hit the road. I need a drink, or twelve. SAM: Most of the time, I can hide it, but...I am angry. I'm mad at everything. I used to be mad at you and Dad, then Lilith, now it's Lucifer, and I make excuses. I blame Ruby or the demon blood, but it's not their fault. It's not them. It's me. It's inside me. I'm mad...all the time...and I don't know why. DEAN: Stop. Stop it. So what if you are? What are you gonna do? You gonna take a leave of absence? You gonna say yes to Lucifer? What? SAM: No, of course not. I-- DEAN: Exactly. And that's exactly what you're gonna do. You're gonna take all that crap and you're gonna bury it. You're gonna forget about it, because that's how we keep going! That's how we don't end up like Martin! Are you with me?

So... pushing it all down, not the best strategy for long-term mental health, but pushing anger down specifically? That's something Dean's spent a lifetime doing. Sam, maybe not so much. When Sam's gotten angry in the past, he makes a plan and removes himself from the situation-- running away from home as a kid, running away to Stanford, making a totally new life for himself and just pretending the Bad Things didn't happen at all. Dean, on the other hand, just puts his head down and continues plowing through the bad things head first like a bull. And honestly neither of these are great coping strategies in real life, but the fact that Sam is just... so baffled as to the source of his anger, when he doesn't WANT to be angry but has so much legitimate REASON to be angry, is just heartbreaking. He thinks it's a personal failing, though, instead of a rational response to being so horrifically manipulated his whole life.

When Dean's anger reaches a peak, he just lets himself explode and doesn't feel guilty about exploding after the fact, you know? Which makes the manipulation he suffered via the wraith all the more painful for him. He just takes it and keeps on plowing through. He'll have a valid excuse to let that anger out sooner or later.

Meanwhile, his guilt over all of this will power him through to the next manipulative adventure the narrative has in store.

[angelofthequeers]

That Red Skirt

Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

Spawned from this thread. I already made a post for @some-angelic-flowers and @gabrielsbackbitches, but then I figured why not write them a fic? I also thought that @i-miss-balthazar might appreciate a tag as well!

Summary: When Jack realises on a shopping trip that he’s non-binary, leading to a confrontation with a stranger who can’t mind their own business, Dean starts to have a few realisations of his own. And his angel is there to save the day and provide answers and comfort as Dean ends up knee-deep in working out stuff he’s repressed to be John Winchester’s Perfect Son. Sam’s just a little shit but then, when isn’t he? At least the overgrown moose is accepting as well.

AO3 link here

It’s not that Dean’s ashamed exactly. Sure, he doesn’t go around telling people that he likes doing “womanly things”, as John called them whenever young Dean dared to bring them up. It’s clear as day to people who actually know him that he likes cooking and looking after his home and taking care of others – all “womanly things” according to John – but he doesn’t exactly like to parade it around.

At first, it was because John expected him to be the perfect son; “If I wanted a daughter then I would’ve had one,” had been his exact words on many an occasion, until Dean had learned to hide it all under layers of exaggerated manliness. That’s not to say that Dean’s not manly at all…just not to enough of a degree for John’s liking. Hell, probably not to enough of a degree for most men’s liking, judging by all the ‘guy humour’ he’s heard about women “belonging in the kitchen” and “taking care of the breadwinner”.

So he likes to indulge in taking care of people and his home without the need for violence. Sue him. He doesn’t think he’s too ashamed of it anymore, but he just doesn’t see any conversation to slide this information into, or just any people who he’d feel safe enough to tell. Sam and Cas wouldn’t give a fuck for sure – their appreciation of his cooking makes that blatantly clear, although he could do without Sam’s occasional comments about knowing how to do the perfect load of laundry despite having relied on laundromats all his life – but that still involves having a conversation about it. And if there’s one ‘manly’ thing that Dean’s good at, it’s avoiding talking about his feelings.

Actually, that’s probably more from years of trauma and childhood neglect. But whatever.

Dean has always thought that this inner conflict would come to a head in a bar somewhere. A finished case, a bit too much beer, he’d get hit on by some creepy asshole who thinks he’s “pretty” with his “princess lips” and “candy apple eyes” – because apparently even when he’s pushing forty, he’s still pretty enough to get hit on by creeps – and then drama would ensue when he says no. A homophobic slur here, an insinuation about being a girl there, finished with either a nice bar fight or storming off, then Sam’s following attempt at a conversation. According to Charlie years ago, it’s a popular trope in gay fanfiction and usually ends up in hot sex between the two guys, with a lesson about accepting yourself and blah blah whatever.

But no, Dean’s apparently too good for fanfiction tropes, because his moment of epiphany is still dramatic but much less macho manly bar fight. He’s out shopping with Jack one afternoon, since they’re in dire need of food supplies due to being down to a tablespoon of shitty instant coffee, a few slices of mouldy bread, a pack of nearly-expired bacon, and condiments that will probably only make that mouldy bread even worse. Thank god the hunters from the other world are gone now, out inhabiting the other Men of Letters chapter houses around the country so that they’ve got a web across the US. It might be horrible of Dean to feel this way but really, a home invasion was the last thing conducive to recovering from Michael’s possession.

So, anyway. He and Jack have filled the cart with food and are now preparing to brave the clothing department of Walmart, only because Dean had decided that it might be nice for Jack to have more than a few shirts and pairs of jeans for himself. He makes a beeline for the men’s jeans and picks out the first pair he finds in Jack’s size.

“Simple but decent when it comes to hunting,” Dean says, turning to show Jack. “About as tough as you can get for this price – the fuck did you go, kid?”

Jack’s nowhere to be found. Heart starting to race, Dean dumps the jeans and heads off in search of the human naphil, because Cas is going to have his ass for days if he loses their kid. He’s still not adjusted to being with Cas, especially with a kid between them (and between Sam too, but he’s firmly not involved in this Dean and Cas equation), but apparently letting a homicidal archangel possess you while the love of your life pleads for you to not make such a dumbass move is catalyst enough to really get things rolling.

In any case, he knows for sure that he’s going to be in the shithouse if he loses Jack, so he navigates the clothing department with all the grace of a giant tortoise whose shell is made of fraud-funded food. Jack’s nowhere in the men’s department, so Dean checks the kid’s department in case he’s started having a ‘one-year-old in the body of a twenty-year-old’ crisis, but he’s not there either.

“Dean!”

Dean whirls at the sound of Jack’s voice calling his name. He locates Jack in the women’s department, standing next to a rack of discount skirts, and he struggles on over.

“They’re so pretty!” Jack says in awe, running his hand over a white, flowy skirt that looks to be about mid-thigh length.

“Don’t run off on me like that!” Dean snaps, mostly to avoid having to crush the light in Jack’s eyes as he pulls out a long red split skirt to examine it. “Cas would fuckin’ kill me if I lost you. You know how much of a passive aggressive dick he can be.”

The lady at the rack nearby tuts, which Dean assumes is at his foul language. He shoots her a winning smile, but she just tuts again and looks away, so he shrugs and turns back to Jack.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Jack says, his mouth drooping as he puts the red skirt back. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just went looking for stuff I’d like, and I found this section and – Dean, look at how pretty these skirts are!”

“They’re for chicks, Jack,” Dean says, painfully aware that Cas is probably going to kill him for instilling human gender roles in their son who’s pretty much a toddler with adult intelligence.

“But why?” Jack says and runs his hand over the white skirt again. “Why do humans insist on assigning gender to pieces of cloth?”

“Okay, for one, you’re human to everyone else, so you might wanna tone down on that alien talk,” Dean mutters. He shoots a look at the lady out of the corner of his eye, who’s so thoroughly invested in the table of T-shirts that it’s obvious she’s eavesdropping. “It…just is, okay? Guys wore skirts ages ago, now they don’t. Shit changes.”

This coming from the guy who likes to wear pink panties makes it incredibly hypocritical. He knows that. But there’s a difference between a sexy kink and just outright wearing women’s clothing every day, and Jack doesn’t seem to be getting it. Dean’s just going to conveniently ignore how the fact that he likes wearing panties is waving its hands to get his attention, like there’s a ground-breaking revelation to be had if he examines it further.

“I don’t understand,” Jack says. “If it’s comfortable then why not wear it?”

“Because you’re not a chick. You’re a guy.”

Jack just frowns as though these are foreign words. “But how do I know that I’m a guy?” he says. “I met someone when I was off training my powers who told me that when he was born, everyone assumed he was a girl because of his body, but he wasn’t a girl. How do I know that that’s not me?” 

“Do you feel like you’re a girl?” Dean’s too sober right now. And he’s totally not equipped to handle a conversation like this. Cas is better suited, what with his utter disregard for human gender roles.

“I don’t know!” Jack clutches the skirt, no doubt to stave off the distress spreading across his face. “I like things that people call “womanly”. I like cooking with you and caring for other people just like you do. I like feeling pretty sometimes. I don’t like people thinking that I have to be tough and “manly” and not interact with my emotions just because I was born with a certain set of genitals.”

The woman nearby outright winces, so Dean turns to her with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” he says. She dithers, like she’s torn between speaking her mind and admitting that she was eavesdropping on another person’s conversation.

“No,” she finally says.

“Good.” Dean turns back to Jack. “Look, kid, I can’t help you there.”

“But you like things that society designates as “womanly”,” Jack says. “Yet you’re comfortable in your masculinity.”

Dean sighs and draws Jack away from the nosy woman. Jack brings the white skirt with him, and Dean’s seriously thinking that he’s going to have to buy the damn thing just to shut Jack up.

“I just don’t understand,” Jack insists.

“Look, kid, I don’t either,” Dean says. “And any time I tried anything, my dad kicked my ass for it. I…don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I appreciate your concern, Dean,” Jack says with that soft little smile of his. “But you and Sam have taught me how to take care of myself. I might only be human now, but I’m sure I can handle negative opinions if I’m not hurting anyone. And I know that you wouldn’t “kick my ass for it”.”

For a moment, Dean sees himself in Jack; his younger self, so fresh and idealistic, unaware of just how horrible a place the world was. He’s got one vague memory from before Mary’s death of her painting his nails for him because he’d seen the bottle of blue polish and wanted to “look pretty like Mommy”, only to result in one of the worst fights between John and Mary about “turning their son gay” while Dean huddled in bed crying.

In that moment, he vows that Jack will never know that pain. He’s never going to be that parent that forces a tonne of bullshit on his kid because everyone else thinks he should. He’s already raising the one-year-old grown-up son of Satan in a hunter life with his angel boyfriend, so there’s literally nothing about this that’s normal in any way. No way is he going to squash that light in Jack’s eyes that John had squashed out of his.

“Fine, whatever,” Dean says. “Get the skirt if you want.”

Jack’s face lights up, and he throws his arms around Dean while thanking him over and over again. Dean pats him on the back, praying that the kid doesn’t suffocate him to death, and thankfully he’s given back control of his lungs after just a few more moments.

“Tsk.” It’s so quiet and barely there, but Dean’s trained ears pick up the reproach from the woman who totally hadn’t started inspecting the next table over just to stay within hearing range.

“You know, it’s rude to listen in on conversations you’re not part of,” Dean says with the most passive aggressive smile he can muster.

“And it’s wrong how you’re raising that son of yours,” the woman retorts. “Especially with your…boyfriend.”

Ah, so she’s one of those ones. Dean’s fake smile just widens. “Well, I don’t see it as any of your business, sweetheart.”

“You’re sending your child to Hell by encouraging him to live in sin!” the woman says. “How can you say it’s not any of my business when I’m concerned for the poor thing?”

“Dean and Cas have always taught me that I’ll never go to Hell if I’m a good person,” Jack says straight to the woman’s face. Ah, Dean’s so proud. “And I don’t see how wanting to wear a skirt makes me a bad person.”

“You gay and transgender people are wrong in the eyes of the Lord,” the woman says. Jack frowns.

“God doesn’t care about that.”

“Just back up,” Dean says. “You can’t argue with crazies like her.”

“She’s insulting you and Cas,” Jack says. “And me. I can’t just let her hate other people when she’s wrong!”

“You’ll never be able to prove it to her,” Dean says. “Trust me, kid, you could have God himself pop in and tell her she’s wrong and she’ll still insist that she’s right and he’s just “pandering” or whatever. They don’t actually give a shit about God. They just use that bullshit so they can act like they got a real reason to hate others rather than having to admit that they’re just assholes.”

“You people sicken me,” the woman spits.

“At least we’re here minding our own business and not going around scaring people into believing our fairy tale,” Dean says. He marches over to the skirt rack and, looking the woman straight in the eye, grabs the red skirt that Jack had also been eyeing. “And you know what? My son can have all the skirts he wants. Hell, I’ll even paint his nails for him. ‘Cause I wasn’t allowed to be pretty as a kid, so Jack’s gonna be the prettiest fuckin’ guy around. You capiche?”

The woman looks like Dean had whipped his dick out and started pissing right in front of her, but Jack looks like Dean had personally hung the stars just for him. Dean drapes the skirt in the cart and nudges Jack.

“C’mon, kid. You still need some good, strong clothes for hu – uh, work.” He wheels their cart back to the men’s section, leaving the woman stewing and Jack bounding along beside him, and he feels in his bones that he’s made the right decision as a parent.

***

For the next few weeks, Dean can’t shake off Jack’s words from their shopping trip. Every time he cooks, he finds himself examining his actions under a microscope, dissecting how much he enjoys cooking for his family and exactly how he feels about it. He does the same thing when tidying the bunker, even going so far as to dust the top of the bookshelves and use some new, tropical-scented shit in their laundry that quickly earns Sam’s seal of approval. And fussing over Sam after the guy had been stabbed by a rabid vampire on their hunt has him spaced out for the rest of the night as he reflects on just how much he mother-hens his brother.

It doesn’t take long for Cas to notice. But then, Cas always notices. However, he doesn’t bring it up until about a month after the Shopping Trip, as the incident has now been dubbed.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Cas’ voice is thick with the sleep he doesn’t need but enjoys when he can cuddle with Dean all night. “You’ve been quiet for weeks now.”

Dean doesn’t say anything at first, instead running his fingers down Cas’ bare chest and stomach and feeling the muscles spasm under his touch. He can’t help but marvel that, for all his holy angelness, Cas is still so incredibly human in many ways, the biggest way being how he chose to willingly tie himself to a human in the way he’s with Dean.

“Is it about Jack’s skirts?” Cas says into the silence. “You’ve been quiet since then. But I think you were fantastic to buy him those skirts. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him so happy than when he came to show me how they look on him. The red skirt especially suits him.”

“How do I know that I’m a dude if I like chick things?” The question comes out so softly that human ears would have missed it. But Cas doesn’t have human ears.

“Is it really that important that you know?” Cas says. He sighs and shakes his head. “My apologies. That was insensitive of me to say. I just don’t understand humans and their insistence on assigning themselves boxes and roles based on physical characteristics.”

“Look, I know you can like some chick things and still be a dude,” Dean says. “Just like I know chicks who are into cars and other “guy shit” and they’re still girls. But…I dunno. It feels like I’m missing something when I say that.”

“How so?” Cas says.

“Just…somethin’ Jack said about how you know you’re one or the other.”

“It’s not necessarily that simple, Dean. There’s so much more than just one or the other.”

Okay, that makes Dean blink. He’s had some vague knowledge that this exists – how could he not, when assholes everywhere are raising up a stink about “snowflakes” or whatever -  but to actually have an angel of the Lord tell him that there’s more than just guy and girl makes his head spin.

“This may not be of any help, since I’m an angel,” Cas says, “but I’m not a man. You see me as such, since my body appears that way, and I’m utterly indifferent to what people call me so my pronouns don’t bother me. I’m not a woman either. I don’t even know if I am anything.”

“That’s literally no help at all,” Dean says. “Thanks, you just confused me more.”

“Eat me,” Cas mutters. Dean snorts at that, because he can always count on Cas to unintentionally lighten the mood. “Talk to me, Dean. Walk me through your thoughts. I don’t know exactly what to say right now.”

“My thoughts are a fuckin’ mess,” Dean says. “Mostly ‘cause this is shit I’ve been shutting down since I was a kid ‘cause you know Dad would kick my ass if I tried. I remember when I was four and my mom painted my nails ‘cause I wanted to be pretty and Dad pitched a huge fit.”

“You were a child,” Cas says. “Children have no concept of gender roles until they’re taught, whether directly or through emulation.”

“I like a lot of “chick” stuff,” Dean says, tightening his hold on Cas like the angel can protect him from his inner crisis. “I like cooking. And I get that a lotta famous chefs are guys but…this is different. It feels more...domestic. I like keeping the bunker tidy ‘cause…it’s home, y’know? I’ve never…had a home before Baby. I just…like things to be nice. I like looking after others. I like listening to Taylor Swift and I’m kinda getting into Ariana Grande.”

The words are spilling out of him like an avalanche as he bares his soul for the first time ever to possibly the only person who would never judge him. As much as he loves Sam, his little brother’s also grown up under the reign of John Winchester, and Sam might be a softer and more emotional guy but he’s still got a lot of shit of his own.

“Sometimes I get sick of bein’ tough and strong and manly,” Dean babbles, burying his face in the crook of Cas’ neck as the deep stuff starts to uncontrollably emerge from years of lock and key. His eyes begin to sting and his lungs are working overtime at this point, but the fingers that start to card through his hair provide a point of sensation that successfully helps keep it under control. “Sometimes I…I wanna be pretty. Like Jack does. I don’t wanna wear a skirt or anything but…I wanna be that four-year-old kid who wanted to wear nail polish like his mom and dress up with her and try to wear her heels but trip and fall flat on his face while she laughs. I wanna be that guy who knows how to braid his younger brother’s hair ‘cause he won’t get a fuckin’ haircut. I wanna wear those flower crowns that Jack makes without feeling like I’m a sissy or somethin’.”

Cas hums, still stroking Dean’s hair. “You can still be a man and enjoy those things.”

“That’s the thing,” Dean says rather bitterly. “That doesn’t feel totally right either. Like…I don’t feel like bein’ a guy fits if I do that stuff. Like if I let myself enjoy that stuff then…not that I don’t deserve to be a guy, but more like…” He fumbles for the right words, wishing he could just let out a long groan and have Cas understand from that, because that’s really the best way he can describe himself. “More like calling myself a guy doesn’t fully describe myself ‘cause…I’m kinda not. But I ain’t a chick either and it feels wrong calling myself that too. If that makes sense?”

“It does,” Cas says and kisses the top of Dean’s head. “I think an appropriate allegory in this case would be nationality. You humans have assigned a label to each other based on where you were born, and you act in different ways according to this label that you were forcibly given. And I’ve noticed how if someone moves to another country, they often face derision for not having been born there like everyone else, especially if they don’t look like the majority or their culture drastically differs from the place to which they move.”

That makes sense. How many times has Dean heard jokes about American stereotypes? Or shitty comments about people based purely on ideas that other people have about where they were born and lived?

“Nationality isn’t anything tangible. It’s more of a feeling and a mutual culture based on shared experiences. And there aren’t just two nationalities or two experiences. There are so many more; some are similar to each other and some are totally different.”

“Nice soapbox,” Dean quips to hide how his head is spinning at this wealth of information. Does that mean that he can just…be neither? That he can let himself be pretty when he wants to while also being the cool tough guy he usually is, and…he can still be Dean? He doesn’t have to be a guy or a girl?

“It’s a very individual experience,” Cas says. “Mine is completely different to yours or Jack’s. That’s why it’s difficult for me to really find the right words for you.”

“Blame Jack,” Dean says. “He’s too pure for his own good. He’s corrupted me.”

“Dean,” Cas chastises. “Don’t talk about our son like that or I won’t sleep with you for a week.”

“You won’t last a week without my dick but sure,” Dean retorts. “So, like…do I have to call myself something since I’m not either? Tell the whole world? Start wearing spandex and dye my hair blue or something?” He looks up just in time to catch the biggest eyeroll Cas has ever given him, so he snickers and nips at Cas’ throat. He refrains from marking Cas up, knowing that if he does then Cas’ animalistic side will come out and he’ll get dicked six ways to Sunday. And while he normally wouldn’t ever turn down some good, hot sex with Cas, he’s also in the middle of an important conversation for which he wants a resolution.

Okay, wow, he’s been talking to Sam too much if he’s choosing a conversation about his feelings over hot angel sex. But it’s worth it, considering that he can feel the chains of another layer of John Winchester’s Perfect Son loosening from around him.

“You don’t “have” to do anything,” Cas says. “You’re still the same Dean Winchester I fell in love with.”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, don’t you dare bring that word up,” Dean protests, but he feels about ten times lighter with Cas’ affirmation that he doesn’t have to do anything different and can just keep doing his own thing while knowing this new thing about himself.

“Oh, shut up, Dean.” Cas immediately contradicts his annoyed tone by kissing Dean’s head again, so Dean decides to lean up and catch Cas’ lips in a proper kiss. Cas hums and cups Dean’s face and their kiss is slow and deep, with small nips and tongues swiping across mouths without dipping inside.

“No but seriously, is there a word for it?” Dean says breathlessly when they separate. “That bitch at Walmart said “transgender” but I don’t feel like that’s me. Others like me might but…not me. I’m still cool with this totally hot body and with people thinking I’m a guy just to make shit easier on everyone, ‘cause I at least know I’m…not.” It feels weird as fuck to say that out loud but also oh so freeing.

“Some might call you egotistical,” Cas mumbles. “It would be totally valid of you to call yourself that if you want, but I understand why you feel it doesn’t apply to you. I’ve heard the term non-binary before, when I was at a homeless shelter as a human and I met someone who referred to themselves as such. After I confronted a bigot and said that I’m utterly indifferent to my own gender, the other person confided in me and non-binary was the term they used. You could try that and research further from there.”

“But…I don’t have to if I don’t want to?” Dean says. Don’t get him wrong, having an actual word that encapsulates him is just…wow. Holy shit. He’s real, he’s allowed to exist, and there are others who are not only like him but also open enough about their identities that other people can find this information and realise shit about themselves too. But he’s literally only just started coming to terms with shit he’s locked deep for the past few decades, so he’s not yet sure if he’s ready to start labelling himself and being so open about it until he’s had more time to work through it.

“Of course not,” Cas says. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just because Jack feels comfortable enough to wear skirts doesn’t mean that you ever have to as well. I told you, it’s highly individual.”

“Jack’s non-binary too?” Dean says. “I mean, I ain’t surprised, but…”

“We had a conversation. He told me that you said he should come to me, since you weren’t equipped to talk about it. He also said that he didn’t mind if I told you and Sam, so I won’t ever tell anyone else about you unless you allow me to do so. That would be rude and horrible and downright violent if the wrong person learned that when you didn’t want them to.”

Okay, that’s another weight off Dean’s shoulders. “Like tellin’ others that I’m bi, right? It’s for me to tell.”

“Precisely. And I’m very proud that you felt comfortable enough to tell Sam, Jack, and Mary.”

“I had a crisis back in Purgatory when I was lookin' for you.” Dean kisses Cas’ shoulder and snuggles under his chin. “Then I had years after that to deal with it and work through Dad’s shit. But this is just…new. I think I need a bit more time.”

“You have all the time in the world, Dean.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, and Dean starts to doze off at the feel of Cas stroking his hair despite having only woken up half an hour ago. But then something occurs to him, and it sets a cold pit of anxiety off in his stomach at the thought of voicing it out loud but…he also kind of wants to say it, if he’s still digging shit up from deep. And Cas won’t judge. This is the same guy who approves of their son wearing skirts.

“Cas?” Dean says. Cas hums in acknowledgement. “I…I just…shit, this is embarrassing.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” Cas says.

“No, I do wanna tell you. I just…bear with me, okay?” Dean pushes himself up into a sitting position so that he can look Cas right in the eye, and what he sees there helps loosen his shoulders ever so slightly. He takes a deep breath and blurts out, “Ilikewearingpanties.”

“Pardon?” Cas’ forehead creases.

“I. Like. Wearing Panties. This one chick, Rhonda Hurley…she made me wear them once. And I liked it. But that’s not even…look, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a kink, ‘cause loads of dudes – normal dudes – they like wearing women’s underwear too. But only during sex, ‘cause that can be hot.”

“You’re not abnormal for not being a “normal man”,” Cas says. “I know there’s a term to refer to people who aren’t transgender, but I can’t quite recall it.”

“That’s not the point,” Dean says. “I just…nail polish and feeling pretty are one thing, okay? But actually liking pretty, lacy underwear outside of sex, where nearly anything goes…Jesus, Cas, if anything was gonna make me suspect I’m not fully a guy, that’s it. I even…” His voice drops to a whisper as he confesses something to Cas for which John would have probably broken his ribs. “I even like the thought of wearing a bra. Not ‘cause I need it, but ‘cause I wanna see if it’d make me look nice. And not “goddamn Dean you look so sexy and I wanna fuck you in those girly clothes” nice like other guys would think but…y’know, “Dean you look so soft and happy” nice.” His shoulders slump, and he looks down at his fidgeting fingers. “I just wanna be not-tough for once. I just wanna be pretty without feeling ashamed or like I’m a girl when I’m not. Or that I have to be more like a guy when I'm not exactly that either.”

“I’m not sure I see how women’s lingerie is much more of a deal breaker than other feminine things,” Cas says. “And although I understand why you do so, I wish you wouldn’t attach such shame to it.”

“Yeah, why do you think I felt okay telling you?” Dean mutters. Cas’ eyes crinkle and, with a small smile, he sits up so that he can lean in and kiss Dean softly.

“I’m honoured that you trust me enough to confide in me, even if I don’t understand your social taboos.”

“Again, why d’you think I told you? Sam wouldn’t make fun of me but…he’s also human. He also grew up in this shithole society. He wouldn’t get it like you do.”

Cas’ eyes soften even more, and he gives Dean another kiss. “Maybe you could wear some of this clothing in a non-sexual situation with just the two of us,” he says. “No one else. Or if you would feel more comfortable without me, you could do it yourself.”

“Trust me, dude, I’d be a tonne comfier with you there so I don’t end up spiralling and shit,” Dean says with a dark little laugh. “Just ‘cause I realised all this shit now doesn’t mean I’m cool with it or anything.”

“Like I said, you have plenty of time. Use however much of it you need to become more comfortable with yourself. And you’ll always have my support, Dean. And Sam, Jack, and Mary’s, when you feel that you can tell them.”

A wide smile of relief splits Dean’s face and he pushes Cas to lie back down, then drapes himself on top of the angel. “You’re the best, man. You’re a literal angel.”

“I know. I have the halo to prove it,” Cas deadpans. The fact that Cas has finally grasped things like sarcasm after years of fraternising with humans is possibly the funniest thing Dean’s encountered all day, and it takes a humongous effort to just snicker rather than descend into a fit of laughter.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says, pushing Cas’ chin back to start kissing down his throat. “You’re the biggest asshole around.”

“You –” Cas cuts himself off with a hiss when Dean nips at the skin over his pulse point, sucking to ensure that he leaves a dark bruise behind. “Dean, you know this – that this erodes my self-control –”

Dean gives him a shit-eating grin. “Good.” He bites again, only to blink as the world around him shifts and blurs when Cas grabs him by the hips and bodily throws him back on the bed, then straddles his hips, blue eyes blown black.

“If one thing about you never changes, it’s how infuriating you are,” Cas growls.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Dean says, grin widening. Cas rolls his eyes.

“Sometimes, I wonder why.”

“Hey.” Dean runs his fingers down Cas’s stomach and dips a finger below the waistband of his white boxers. “Less talking, more kissing.”

***

“Dean, you look like you’re gonna puke,” Sam says when Dean corners him after breakfast the next day. “What’s wrong?”

Dean swallows, takes a deep breath, then decides to just go for it. He doesn’t want to have to spend ages hiding something like this from his brother when he can have another person supporting him, especially after everything he and Sam have been through. “I’m not a guy, okay?”

“Uh…what?” Sam frowns. “You’re…uh, wow, that is big. Are you –”

“I’m not a girl either,” Dean rushes to say. “I’m…neither. And kinda both. But mostly just neither. Cas calls it non-binary but I dunno what to call myself yet. If I even wanna call myself anything at all.”

“Huh,” Sam says. “You know, I always knew you were bi, but I never even suspected you weren’t cis.”

“Cis?”

“Not trans.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called? Cas couldn’t remember.” Dean blinks and points at Sam. “Wait, you know about this shit?”

“Of course I do,” Sam says. “The internet exists. And I thought I might not be a cis guy at one point, so I went researching, but I’m pretty sure I am. I did learn a lot, though. I know I don’t really care about gender when I’m into someone, but I have to be close to them to like them like that. That's why I'm so close to everyone I sleep with or get together with. I just never told you because you had your own stuff to deal with.”

“Fuckin’ nerd,” Dean mutters. Sam doesn’t even bitchface him this time, so Dean’s expecting some speech about how happy he is that Dean trusts him enough to confide him and whatever.

“Does that mean you’ll finally braid my hair for me?” Sam says with a smile so innocent that it’s dripping with guilt. Dean rolls his eyes and flips his brother off, then promptly regrets it when the moose turns all touchy-feely and pulls him into a hug.

“Fuck off, bitch,” Dean says into Sam’s plaid shirt.

“In your dreams, jerk.”

[sweetlialia]

A new home, chapter 1

It was the third of October 1998 and Harry sat alone in the deserted potion classroom. He didn’t even have to try to picture the scene that should been playing in front of his eyes, it was there: Snape wandering around them, his eyes unreadable as they watch them brew, Hermione biting her lips in focus while Ron would be mumbling to his cauldron. Zabini and Malfoy would be working without talking; only glancing at Parkinson’s potion from time to time to correct something he would later repeat to Ron. As always, the lesson would end up when Seamus blew something up. He had learned new ways of making things explode and never failed to help Neville escape Snape’s animosity.

But not today.

Today Harry was sitting alone at his desk, letting his fingers feel the old wooden table as he wonders what happened to them.

Not many people he knew went back to Hogwarts. The Patil sisters were taking their classes from home, he heard, and Cho’s family had moved away. Hannah told him that Ernie had joined the Auror Training Program while Finch-Fletchley had temporarily left the Wizarding World for a year at Eton. None of the Slytherin he knew seemed to be there either. But hopefully, his best friends were still by his side. He still had Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Hermione with him. His heart missed Ginny and Luna. They were supposed to be here too, but he hadn’t seen them since they took a Portkey to Brazil after Fred’s funeral.

 “You ok Harry?

-Oh, I hadn’t heard you come in.

-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you.

-No no, it’s fine Nev, you can stay. I was just, you know, thinking. It’s been kinda weird lately.

-Hogwarts will never be the same, not for us.

-I’d hope you’re wrong.” Harry shrugged. “but it feels true. Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. When, when I came back here, the very first time I saw the castle from the platform, it felt like home. But home isn’t a place, right Neville, it’s its people. And our people, I don’t know where they are anymore, but it isn’t there.

-Harry, I have something to tell you…

-You’re leaving, too, that’s it? I know you’re taking some NEWT next week. I saw your book.

-I’m… I’m going to have a baby.”

 ***

30th April, 98.

I broke up with him today. I couldn’t tell him about the baby. About our baby. He’s already suffering too much, between Ombrage, Snape and the Carrows. His friends and him are still resisting, still fighting. If I tell him about the baby… I’m afraid he would try to protect me and risk his own life in the process. He has become so brave lately. I never thought I could fall for him. But here am I. Seventeen and pregnant with his child. Sweet Merlin. What have I done?

I know it’s too late to do something about it. If I go back to Mrs Pomfrey and tell her I changed my mind... for a week or two, maybe she’ll send to St Mungo and… and I wouldn’t be pregnant anymore.

Is it wrong that I don’t want to? That I want this baby to live even if I don’t know in which world they will grow in? If Voldemort wins the war… I’m a pure blood, and he’s, too. Maybe we can survive his reign of terror. But he would never stop fighting, will he? Even if we run away… He would try to fight for a better world; he would say things like “our child deserves the world I’m fighting for”. And he would be right. But then, he would die, and my baby would never know his father.

If only I could tell someone… but mom and dad would kill me/ and him. And my friends would never understand… I’m not even sure that we’re friends anymore anyway. We’re barely talking anymore. Everything in this castle is slowly rotting and smelling like death. We haven’t heard about Harry for months. I guess he ran away with Hermione and Ronald, making babies in France.

 But what if Voldemort loses? If he loses, I would have deprived my child of a wonderful father. If said father wants him. I can’t picture him rejecting us, but… he’s not used to them as I am now. If I tell him for the baby and he rejects me…

Stop, enough thoughts for today. Time to go to sleep.

 I really like Alice, if it’s a girl. Just like his mom.

I’m gonna make it out alive for you.

And I’ll tell dad. You just have to be patient.

   ***

Harry stood up, silent, as Neville’s words reached his brain. He was going to have a baby. A baby. Neville was going to have a baby and he didn’t have a single clue on who was the mother. Neville was going to have a baby. Neville had had sex with someone. Neville who, not so long ago was waltzing on its own after the Yule ball was going to have a baby. Neville who never dated anyone expect Ginny at the Yule ball was going to have a baby.

“How?” was somehow the only word his brain could manage.

“I’ve met this girl while you were um, hunting, and I don’t know how but we end up dating and now she’s pregnant. It wasn’t planned, but she’s almost here, so I have no other choice but to leave school. I talked to Professor McGonnagal before summer and that’s why I’m only studying herbology ten hours a day, six days out of seven. Once I have my NEWT I have a job at a flower shop. It won’t be easy, but my granny isn’t pleased with the new and hasn’t planned on helping me financially. She said she’ll help me with the practical things such as how to change a diaper and how to hold a baby but I need money to feed the baby and buy said diaper and so I need a job and

-Neville Neville stop please! You’re going to die if you don’t breath!

-It’s a little bit overwhelming.

-A little bit, yeah. Just breath for a few secs, okay?

-I don’t have a few secs! She’s due for early November!

-She?

-Yes, she.” Neville smiled, nodding. “A little girl. A watermelon sized baby girl. But that’s all I know! I just know she’s watermelon sized! And that she’ll be Scorpio. Why would I care about her muggle astrologic zodiac? I’m going to have a baby in a month Harry! A baby! I don’t know anything about baby! Or about anything in general. I’m just a kid, I’m not supposed to have a kid on my own, not now. I’m not even able to keep an eye on a toad! So a baby! I’m gonna make her fall or forget her in the bath or the train or

-I’ll help you! Neville, I’ll help you! I promise. You won’t be alone. You won’t be alone and it’s gonna be okay. Do you hear me, Neville Longbottom? You won’t be alone. Now breath. You’re gonna be a great dad, ok? Say it, you’re gonna be a great dad.

-I’m gonna be a great dad.

-Again.

-I’m gonna be a great dad.

-Does anyone except your grandmother and Professor McGonnagal know about him?

-Her parents and bestfriends.

-Are they supportive?

-They kicked her out of their home. She’s staying at her best friend’s place until we gather enough money to rent a flat.

-Shit I’m sorry… Do you… Are you guys together?

-Yes, since last year. But no one knew… Harry, you have to promise me you won’t be mad…

-Why would I? You haven’t get Ginny pregnant, right? Neville, you haven’t get Ginny pregnant?

-No no no! Plus you were together back then! I wouldn’t have!

-Geez. Then, who’s the girl?

-Promise you won’t be mad.

-You’re scaring me. But okay, I promise.

-I’m with Pansy Parkinson.

  ***

Pansy was lying on the bed, facing the world outside of the window. It has been days, and she hadn’t said a word.

“Pansy… Talk to me, please…”

 The silence treatment wasn’t new. She had always made up walls to protect herself, and those walls had always needed silent. Ordinarily, he would have given her some space and time to deal with whatever she had to deal with; waiting patiently until she felt ready to open up. But now wasn’t ordinarily, they didn’t have time. The Aurors would show up sooner than later.

“Pansy…” he whispers again, afraid to speak out loud; afraid of his own voice in the silence of the Manor. “I’m here.” He climbed on the bed and snuggled against her, hiding his face in her long dark hair, twisting their hands. “I love you Pans. No matter what’s going on on your head, and no matter what’s going to happen, I love you.” “I love you” he repeated, when he felt her closing the gap between their bodies. “and I will always love you.

-I love you too, Draco.” She finally whispered back, raising their linked hands to her lips. She was crying.

 The moon was high when a thud noise woke them up. Eyes opened in the dark and hearts beating fast, they heard Narcissa high pitched scream.

“The Aurors.” Draco finally realised, quickly rising from the bed and running to the door, trying to lock them in. It hasn’t been another nightmare; the sounds were real, they were real. And Pansy wasn’t moving. “Pansy, you have to Apparate to Blaise’s. Follow the plan, Pans’, move! You have to go! Now! Apparate!

-Come with me!

-I can’t! Come on Pansy, go! Please, I beg you! They can’t find you there! You haven’t done anything for Him, they can’t find you here! Move, please!

-Draco…” Her body stayed still as she turned her head toward the window, catched by the numerous Lumos coming from the gardens.

“Draco! Draco son! Come downstairs now!” they heard Lucius call. He was giving them time, it was nearly too late.

“Pansy! Go away!

-I’m pregnant Dray.” She croaked, finally turning her gaze to him.

“What?

-I’m pregnant!

-You’re pregnant!

-Draco! Downstairs now! They won’t hurt you!” his father’s voice was nearer, and he swears he could hear people run up the stairs.

-Oh Sweet Salazar Pansy! Should I congratulate you?

-Could you?

-Is the father good to you? Does he love you?” he hurried, hope blowing in his chest.

“He told me so, but I broke up with him, it’s Neville, I was so scared and now I fucked up everything and

-Draco! Out! Now!

-Draco!” His mother’s voice echoed.

“Get back to him. Apparate to Blaise and get back to him. They will take care of you. I love you Pans, now go! Please, for the child, leave now!

-I love you too, Draco!” she cried in a loud crack as the door behind Draco’s back began to tremble.  

 ***

 Harry stood silence, shocked, for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. The mother was Pansy Parkinson. Pansy fucking Parkinson.

The girl who tried to held him to the Voldemort.

It just couldn’t be true.

 “Harry, please, say something.

-Pansy Parkinson?

-She’s really nice, when you get to know her.

-When did you get to know her? How the fuck did you get to know her?! Last time I saw her she tried to get me killed! And now you’re telling me she’s pregnant? That you got her pregnant? If this is some kind of a joke, it’s a really lame one.

-I’m not joking, Harry. I’m dating her since last December.

-Last December.

-We had detention together at Flich’s. She had hex a Carrow, to avenge a girl he had hit.

-And a good action is enough to buy back a past of pettiness and cruelty?

-She’s not cruel.

-So we agree on petty.

-Harry…

-She tried to get me killed; I have the right to call her petty.

-She didn’t want to, she

-She wanted me to die. She wanted me to surrender when an army was standing outside of our walls, Nev’. She was the reason why all Slytherins ended up in the dungeon instead of in the battlefield, fighting with us. She betrayed us.

-She was trying to save her baby. My baby.

-By having all of us killed?

-It was a really stupid plan.

-Indeed.

-She’s sorry. She’s really sorry. She threatened you to make sure our child will live whatever side win! If we had lost that day, I’d be dead and she’ll be raising our child in a convent. If we had lost and she had run to my side, Voldemort would have killed her too.

-She’s a Slytherin, a Pureblood, Malfoy’s bestfriend, if we had lost and she’d stayed silent, she’d have been safe. There was no need to send me to Voldemort.

-She could’ve hexed you. She’s brilliant, you know? She could’ve hexed you and carry you out herself, but she didn’t even try.

-Bless her.

-Harry. I’m trying to tell you that she isn’t the mean girl you think she is! And even if she’s been, she’s not anymore. And she wasn’t anymore when I talk to her for the first time last year. Believe me Harry. Believe in my judgment. Have I ever been something else than a friend to you? Have I ever been unworthy of our trust?

-Neville…

-Just try, Harry. Promise me you’ll try.”

Harry paused for a few seconds, inhaling deeply before nodding toward his friend. “If I found out she’s still that sneaky little bitch, I’ll rip her heart out.

-Harry, she’s my baby’s mom.

-I swear to Godric, don’t say that again or I’ll puke on your shoes.

-Duly noted.

-And, Neville.” Harry called out as his friend walked out the door. “I still love you.”

 ***

 T,

 I don’t know if my owl will reach you before they do. They broke into MM last night. I checked the news at dawn, they’re taking them to A. G has been taken too. I haven’t read about you, I hope you’re safe.

 P is safe. Terrified, but safe.

We’ll meet where it had all begun when the week is over.

B.

 ***

 “Come on, Ron, you promised me you’ll help me!

-But I promised Harry we’ll play tonight, sorry!” Ron lied as they got into the common room.

“Is it true, Harry?

-Huh?

-You arranged a game tonight?

-huh, yeah, sure. Wanna join?

-I got my DADA essay and

-Have you ever played Quidditch Hermione? I’ve never seen you.

-I’d rather watch than play.

-You never tried?” Ron, apparently stunned by the new, stopped dead on his track. “How come?

-Neville never had, either.” She tried when she spotted the boy reading by the fireplace.

“Neville what?

-You never played Quidditch, right?

-I almost die the first time I got on a broom for the recall.

-Long time ago, come on, we’re playing tonight!

-I still don’t want to die.

-Nev be fun for once! You’re acting more hermionish that Hermione herself!

-Hermionish?

-He’s practically dating his books.

-At least they’re not trying to break his neck.

-Lovebirds, lovebirds, please be quiet.” Seamus asked, climbing on the couch. “We’re not going to study tonight, but we’re not gonna play Quidditch either. Tonight we celebrate!

-Dean, get your leprechaun under control, for once.” Harry teased as said leprechaun stand still on the couch, arms open to the ceiling.

“Wait for the final.

-oh my, what’s going to explode?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, trying to contain a smile as Colin came running into the Eight Year common room, glass bottles in his hands, screaming I got them!I got them! to Seamus.

“I fear for my life.” He whispered as Seamus began to shake vigorously one of them.

“And I fear for mine.” he smiled, not taking his eyes away from his lover. “I fear for mine.

-You all know by now how amazing Dean is, right?” People cheered as Dean hide his face in his hands, making Ron and Cormac whistled louder.

“He’s not going to propose, right?

-He better not.”

“Well, Minnie knows it too! She asked him to do a mural on the courtyard; he’s gonna paint for Hogwarts! He’s gonna paint History!

-Mate! Congratulations!

-Come here, love, they wanna hear it from you!”

  “Wow. That was pretty intense for a Thursday night.” Harry enthused, back in their shared dormitory. The party was slowly fading now that they had retired upstairs, but they didn’t really care. The new has been shared and the sparkling wine drank. Life still had happiness to offer them, they knew it; they were still teens, they remembered it. But their need to celebrate every little glimpse of happiness came from a dark place within their heart, and they knew now not to live harder than they felt.

“Congrats mate. That’s fucking brilliant.

-Seamus makes it seems far greater than it is, you know.

-McGonnagal asked you to paint the Second Wizarding War and honour the fallen, Dean. That isn’t anything. Your work is going to be there for decades! Harry’s right, it’s fucking brilliant!

-It’s just…” Dean sighed, suddenly looking away, searching something in the darkness of the night.

“It’s okay. We’re okay now.” Seamus reminded him, leaving Neville’s Wizards and Witches cards to get to his side. “It’s over now.” He said, trying to keep his voice low and steady as he kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “We’re okay.” He repeated a last time, snuggling himself against him.

“It’s just…”he began again, gripping Seamus a little bit closer. “It reminds me of Luna. When we were in the Malfoy’s cellar, we used to paint on the walls. Malfoy had found out and started bringing us pigmented coal. That’s all we did for weeks. Paint with our fingers on dirty walls.

-But there wasn’t light.” Ron objected, slightly shivering at the memory of Hermione’s screams. “We couldn’t see much down there.

-I never said it was pretty. But it did keep us sane. And hopeful. And, and that what I want this mural to be, you know. I don’t want to paint what happened. I don’t want to paint the snatchers chasing us, Fudge lying to us or even the Goblet of Fire. I don’t want to paint Wood and his guys flying over Hogwarts at the start of the battle, I don’t want to paint the statues jumping down of their pillar. I don’t want to paint you, Neville, taking out Godric’s sword. I don’t want the pain, anger and madness we all felt to flourish on Hogwarts’s walls. I only want to draw the hope. But how can I do it now? Half of our friends hadn’t come back. Luna and Ginny … Sometimes, I don’t even know where to look to find hope. I know I’ll be happy. I’ve got you, I’ve got Seam, but… there’s something still missing, you know? I’d hoped for this day to come, all of us in our dorm, and now that it’s here, I just don’t know.” He paused, shaking his head. “I don’t know.

-I- I know what I hope for.” Neville started tentatively as no one seemed to be ready to talk. “I- I… I have hope in a better world. I hope my kids would grow in a better world than the one we grew into. We still have a lot to do, that’s for sure. We still need to heal and rebuilt our lives. But we also have to stay aware of our own bias and fight the pain that’s making us blind; cause we’ll all have to find within us the strength to forgive those who try to redeem themselves, and it will takes time, but I believe in it.

Dean, I don’t know how it could’ve felt in the cellar, but the hope you hold on to, I’ve felt it. I had the hope to see a day where we’d be all reunited; alive, safe and happy. I’ve endured the Carrows because I believed in victory, I believed in peace and in a better world. You haven’t lost hope. You accepted McGonnagal offer because you believe in a future where students would learn about the war we made without worrying about how frail peace could be. You don’t want to paint pain and suffering because you have this hope that their world would let them be carefree and happy. And that day will come. But for the next decades, kids will get to Hogwarts and learn about how they lose members of their families. And they’ll go to the courtyard and look up to your artwork and they’ll see what they died for, they’ll see why they kept fighting until the end. And that will pass from generation to generation: there’s some good in this world and it’s worth dying for. That what I hope for, a world which learn from his mistake and never try to forget. A world where this war could’ve never happened.

-A world where a little Draco Malfoy would be shaking hand with a little Harry Potter.” Dean asked, trying to smile behind his tears.

“In the world Neville’s talking about, my son could befriend his.” Harry nodded before slowly walking toward his friend. “I’m sorry for what I said.” He whispered before embracing the father to be.

  ***

If someone had ever asked Blaise Zabini what colour does he despite the most, he would have probably answered red; red as the Gryffindor beanie he was actually wearing to be precise. Turning the page of his newspaper, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing: wearing the Saviour’s colour has been the only logical choice he made when he planned to meet the son of a Death Eater in King Cross. The Aurors were patrolling everywhere, looking for allies of the Dark Wizard, and Muggle one has been given pictures of the fugitives. If he wasn’t amongst them and came back to the house alive, then he would consider himself lucky. Otherwise, stupid would be perfectly suiting.

10h58. With a deep breath, Blaise stood up and, checking conscientiously his surroundings, stride toward platform 93/4.  The entire plan was stupid. He didn’t even know if Theo had read his owl. Letters were still opened daily, and a coded one could have been considered dubious. And even if he got it, who said he’d be coming? They had never been great friends. The risk was too high. Anyone could be an Auror, or a muggle Auror. Who knew what does a muggle Auror looked like?

10h59. He still had a few seconds. Breathing in and out, he pretended to lace his shoes, giving time for the weird looking guy to pass.

At 11h, he had crossed the wall and stood alone on the platform.

“Shit shit shit…” he mumbled, searching for a hint of a human being. Theo wasn’t there. No one was there. He’s been pathetic, thinking his plan has the smallest chance of succeed. When the week is over could have meant Sunday and not Monday and where it had all begun how fucking precise!

At 11h02, he decided that he would leave the station at 05. Here he was the easiest target of the whole United Kingdom. There were cameras everywhere in the muggle part of the station; his beanie and an atrocious muggle jumper wouldn’t be a sufficient disguise if the authorities were really working hand in hand to capture every witches and wizards suspected of being linked to Voldemort. And he was sure to be on the list.

11h03. He shouldn’t have stayed with Draco after he took the Mark. He shouldn’t have started to talk to Theo when Draco did. He should have been there for Draco before he took the Mark in the first place. Should have forced him to leave his home when his wonky father got out of Azkaban. Should have run away to France when Voldemort had return. Mistakes on mistakes, that’s what he’s done with his last two years.

11h04. Something caught his eyes. A raven had landed on the platform, eyeing him. Did raven could eye people? Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath and decided that those last sixty seconds could get screwed. If this wasn’t a normal raven…

“Croa.”

Blaise heart achingly stopped in his chest as the raven start croaking again, as it jumped to face him. He couldn’t make a step without the damned bird croaking at him, coming nearer.

“Croa.” The bird repeated, opening his wings, as others came flying above them.

“Petrificus Totalus!” He shouted. The raven fell to the ground, petrified, soon followed by another, and a third one until all the birds were left lifeless. “What have I done?” he asked himself in horror as he finally lowered his wand. Around him, circling him, were dozen of raven, draining from their blood. The fall has been lethal. He stumbled and felt his entire body react to the ferric smell filling his nostrils. He couldn’t stay there. The scattered feathers, the blood dripping on the ground, it was a slaughter. Feeling his stomach constrict again, he started running until he crossed the wall. He had to get away from there as quickly as possible. He had to leave King Cross before anyone found out the mess he made. He had to be home when the entire Auror department would be deployed, looking for the dark wizard who just performed a sinister ritual. He needed a plan. He needed to breathe. He needed to puke. But a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the pillar with force before he could even try to steady himself. Panic invaded him as he fell his own body hit the bricks, suddenly blind to the world surrounding him. It’s over he cannot helped fearing as a hand covered hastily his mouth.      

 ***

“Having trouble sleeping?” Harry asked as he found his best friend playing wizarding chess at 2 am in the empty common room.

“Can’t sleep. You? Nightmares again?

-Again.

-Wanna play?

-I dunno, I

-Just sit. I’ll play for you.”

Harry grinned slightly before curling himself in the sofa, accio-ing a plaid. The warmth and roaring blaze of the fire was comforting, extracting him from the numbness of the woods. Being with Ron had always helped him feel better. The Weasley had always made him feel safe; at home.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what Dean told us tonight.

-The mural?

-Hope.

-Oh.

-Do you think that’s why Ginny hasn’t come back yet? Because she’d lost hope in her future here?

-You think she has?

-She said she’ll be back for school. Mom said she’s send a postcard on the 4th, to tell us not to worry. But how can I not? She’s my baby sis…”

 ***

It was almost midnight when Pansy finally gave up and cast a shy lumos, blowing out the candles. Their flickering light was freaking her out more than lighting anything anyway and she couldn’t stand the strange shadows crawling around the shack they were hidden in. Blaise hadn’t come back yet, and the knots in her stomach grew tighter and tighter with every cracked and squeaked from the wooden planks. Outside, the wind was slamming branches against the windows, or what was left of them and she could feel the air coming in. It wasn’t a night to be left alone.

Plus it wasn’t on the plan. Blaise was supposed to meet Theo at 11, and then they were supposed to come to the hutch. Blaise was gone for more than fourteen hours now; it couldn’t be good. Something had happened.

Something happened to Blaise.

Something happened to Blaise; too.

He has been taken by the Aurors, or maybe the Muggle ones. Did they still torture people in the non-wizarding world?

Or maybe someone recognised him and hexed him; leaving him bleeding to death in an alley. By now he was probably in St Mungo, lying unnamed in the mortuary.

 She heard him cry before they left his house. She knew something happened before they went into the woods. He had read something in the Prophet and had burned the papers before she could see it. Draco was probably dying somewhere in Azkaban and now they were taking Blaise, too…

And she would never know if they were still alive.

And she would die in there, alone and terrified.

She would let herself die in there if he didn’t come back. She would never be able to survive on her own. She would never be able to leave the shack and get through the woods.

No, no, no, she would. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts running freely inside of her mind, before her eyes. She couldn’t let herself lose hope now. She had to stay strong and keep moving. She couldn’t collapse. Maybe Blaise has been taken; maybe King Cross has been guarded. Maybe they were looking for Theo and they had taken them both. But with or without them, she had to stay strong for her baby. She had agreed to stay in there because she feared for the little thing, but she still was Pansy fucking Parkinson by Salazar! She’d find another plan, and she’d stay strong; it was in her DNA.

If he hadn’t come back by the morning, she’ll stocktake their food and supplies and keep waiting as long as she could. Thereafter she’ll hide in a convent and finds out a way to rent an owl to reach for Neville. Then, and if he doesn’t throw her away, he’ll help her fight for them and get them out of Azkaban.

Yes, that was a good plan; a good backup plan; because Blaise was coming back.

He was coming back.

 ***

Harry woke up to the sound of Hermione’s chuckle. He had fallen asleep on the couch with Ron, again. That was becoming to feel like an old habit. Ron’s thoughts were too loud at night, preventing sleep to release him from their reality; and he hadn’t stop making nightmares since he went back from the dead. They ended up wandering in the Burrow at ungodly hours before finally sitting back down on the couch, figuring out they were no point in keeping pretending. Dusk didn’t felt like a blessing for them as it did for Hermione. But dawn did. Dawn was when he’d wake up to a snoring Ron and realise he had taken his glasses off before they fell to the floor and covered him so he won’t get cold. Dawn was when he would take his cover off, and put them on Ron, so he could get warm before waking up. Dawn was when he felt the happiest to still be alive.    

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice croaking, as he rest his chin on the back of the sofa, looking toward the form of his best friend walking down the stairs.

“Seamus.” Dean answered, coming behind her. “He bet he could make something explode during breakfast and Hermione bet he couldn’t wait until then.

-And I win! He blew up his toothpaste, Harry! His toothpaste!”

 Entering their shared bathroom, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how did his friend ended up being a magical TNT detonator: there was dentifrice up to the ceiling.

“You should’ve seen Seamus’s face.” Neville smiled awkwardly behind him. “Not only did he burst his own, but ours too! And he doesn’t even know how! I swear he’s gonna blow up the castle someday!

-He kinda already has.

-Yeah, right. Talking about, I- I wanted to thank you, for yesterday. For understanding.

-Would you, would you like to tell me more about her? How you met and how she was? Cause it feels like I don’t know this girl you fell for, and. I mean, if she’s important for you, then she’s for me.”

 “As I told you, we met in detention.” Neville began to recount as they walked toward the lake. “At first I didn’t wanted to talk to her but … Filch locked us up for six hours so … we began to talk.

 ***

“You ain’t catching me Longbottom!” she shouted, five stairs ahead. “You’re too slow!

-You’re defying me?

-Only stating the obvious!”

Neville shook his head in disbelief: he really was chasing Pansy Parkinson down, racing to the boathouse. And he was enjoying it. His heart was beating fast and he couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow he’d felt for her. He couldn’t tell if he fell for her bravery as she stood for first years or if it was her eyes sparkling with mischiefs when she looked at him. Maybe it was the way she laughs, bright and loud, unashamed to still feel joy or the way she walked, chin up and deadly glares to those who insult her and her friends. Falling for her hadn’t meant being blind or forgetful of their shared past, it had meant caring enough for her to open up and reveal who she really was behind the mask.

“Got you!” she smirked as she grabbed him by his robe, pulling him close.

“Yeah, you got me.” He smiled back, leaning toward her. Her smell had the power to shut down his brain, just as much as her red lips.

“You know, no one ever goes into the boathouse.

-Yeah?

-Yeah. So you can kiss me.

-Do you want to?

-Yes.” She answered, closing her eyes as she felt Neville’s lips on hers.

 Falling for him has been easy, but admitting it hasn’t. Neville wasn’t supposed to be her type. She always had crushes on people like Draco, Hermione or even Ginny; strong people who knew what they wanted and were able to fight for it. She hadn’t planned Neville was one of them. He had grown into a man far different from the little boy she thought he was, and it was he delight to discover him, she had to admit. His bravery and obstinacy toward a better world has been a surprise for her who had never given him a second thought, but his kindness and candor weren’t, and she was glad to realise he hadn’t lost them on the way.

 “Maybe you could kiss me again?” she whispered as Neville broke their kiss. “If you wanted to…

-I’d love to.” He grinned, taking her hand. “And maybe we could be more than friends…

-Like best friends?” she asked, playfully.

The glitters in her gaze were back, and Neville felt his heart melt in his chest. “Like lovers.” He corrected, wondering where his fearlessness came from.

“I’d like it.” she said, her eyes in his. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but he couldn’t see it, as he was mesmerised by something in her iris. “If you promise not to fry my brain.

-Only if you don’t break my heart.”

 ***

 Christmas was coming. The twelves Christmas trees glowed in the halls as garlands glittered in every common room. The Castle was literally sparkling from inside out. But sitting in front of the hearth, a wreath in her laps, Pansy felt empty. The burst of joy usually inhabiting her wasn’t there; for the first time since kindergarden, she wasn’t going to spend Christmas Eve at Malfoy Manor.

Sitting in the middle of her common room, she could only feel the emptiness inside her. Draco hadn’t come back in September and his absence seemed to fill the air, now more than before. He had stopped sending her letters since mid-October and she couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the rumours she heard in the late whispered talks saying that the Dark Lord was living with them.

“Pans, you comin? McGonnagal’s not gonna wait forever.”

  The December’s trip to Hogsmeade has always been her favourite; snow battles, Christmas shopping, Honey Dukes and Daphne’s atrocious seasonal jumpers were like inevitable glimpse of Heaven in her eyes. Saying that Pansy Parkinson loved winter would only be an understatement; she practically lived for it. But when her friends started throwing snowballs at each other she slowed down, creating space between them. When Theo and Blaise decided to make a halt in Tomes and Scrolls, she followed Daphne around, heartlessly.

“Are you alright sweetie?” the blond finally asked as they passed a choir. “You’re surprisingly silent. And distant.

-I’m just not in the mood. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ruin your day out.

-You’re not ruining anything; I’m just worried.

-You don’t have to. I’ll meet you guys later at the Three Broomsticks if that’s okay? I’d like to stay alone a little bit.

-You know you can talk to me, right?

-Don’t worry, ‘kay? I’ll meet you there.

-Pinkie promise?

-Whatever you want.” She shook her head, offering her finger to her friend. “I can’t believe you still believe in this.

-But I do. I’ll be in there, if you change your mind.” She added, pointing toward a Christmas charms shop across the street.

 In other circumstances, she would have gladly crossed the street with her friend. And she’d probably have deal with her best friend absence by buying him one of those Christmas tree decorations he loved so much.  But in those circumstances, it was too must to ask. So she turned her heels and began to walk away from the village, toward the little hill overlooking the Shrieking Shack. And there she was, looking at the odd house from afar when a familiar voice called her name. She didn’t had to turn away to know Neville was coming closer, she could hear his footstep on the fresh snow.

“Hey… Are you okay?” he queried as he stood beside her.

  You know, at first I was impress by her attitude. We were all slowly losing our composure, finally understanding what was really happening at Hogwarts, between the absence of all muggleborn and half the half-blood, the punishments of the Carrows, Filch’s adoration for Ombrage old teaching methods and the curriculum itself. I thought my world was tumbling down. But there she was, proud and reckless, spelling and hexing, standing up to us, as if she was born for it. Yes, I was more than impress. I was heels over head before the first snow. And only then did she let me get to know her more… deeply. She opened up and showed me her cracks, and I couldn’t but love her more at how strong she was for standing up when her base was all flickering. For months she’s tortured herself for having Death Eaters children as friends. Only the Greengrass girl wasn’t one. And I know what you must be thinking Harry, birds of a feather flock together, but it was terrorising her. For nights she couldn’t sleep, overthinking about it. Maybe she was petty, and maybe she sometimes acted out of “cruelty”, I would stay stupidity, but she never believed in all that pureblood superiority bullshit. She’s been raised to believe in certain things and she was only presented to other children raised to believe in those same things, but she finally chose to question all of it, because it never fully made sense for her. For her it was as if someone had just ripped off her eyelids. She’s been taught not to see any of it, and suddenly, it was everywhere. She was torn apart between her love for her family and friends and what she was discovering about them, wondering if she could still love them, wondering if she should cut those ties or try to rip off their eyelids. She was constantly feeling like a failure, feeling fake. I’m not trying to make you pity her, I just want you to know she has always been far more than what she made herself appears to be. She needed people to believe she was… how should I say it? Complete? Solid? I don’t know. But she also had her cracks, and she kept them hidden for months. And I’m not saying … She needs time to trust people, and until she trusts them, she won’t let them see her. It’s not a mask, it’s an armour. She’s protecting herself. And she let me in. She opened up to me and let me question her raising and beliefs. And I didn’t find anything awful.

***

“Neville! Neville hurry up! It’s Seamus!”

The Room of Requirement suddenly felt too small as Ginny took him by the arm, running toward the door. Around them, the DA fell quiet as students stopped in their practise, anticipating the worst as they took their leader’s distress in. Running up the stairs, Neville couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. He knew the path, but his brain didn’t want him to realise he was rushing to the hospital wing. Yet, that was where they were heading.

“What happened?” he finally urged as they slow down, taking in the sight of the closed curtain bed.

“The Carrows. Parkinson found him unconscious on the third floor; said it was the Carrows. I rather warn you, it’s not pretty.”

Ginny hadn’t lie. Seamus was everything except pretty, barely recognisable. His face was tumefied and his eyes were swollen too, purple from the blood within them. His lip was cut and bruises were already forming by his left cheekbone, down to his chin. His right was hidden behind a bandage coming from the upper part of his head.

“They haven’t. Tell me they haven’t done that.” He whispered, coming closer to the bed. Now wasn’t the time for letting his anger out. Luna was shaking in a chair across the bed, studying carefully the potions in the bedtable.

“He has some broken ribs too. But Madam Pomfrey says he’s gonna be okay.” Ginny informed him, as she placed a hand above the covers, where Seamus hand probably was. “But he still hasn’t wake up.”

“He’s gonna be okay. He’s strong. He’s gonna be okay.” He tried to convince himself as a distant moan escape his friend’s lips.

“D-Dean..

-Seamus? Seamus, you’re safe. You’re at the hospital wing. You’re safe, Seamus. We’re here. Ok?” Luna murmured, gently stroking his hair as he feebly wailed his lover name again and again.

“I’m gonna kill them. I’m gonna kill them!” Neville swore, gritted teeth, as he stormed out of the room, quickly followed by the redhead girl. “I’m gonna kill them and make them pay for it.

-And then, what? You kill them, and then, what?  You run to Abelforth? The gardens are full of death eaters and dementors! You’d be dead before midnight! Or worse. Is that really what you want? We’re gonna have our revenge, I promise you.

-And until then, we’re gonna sit down and wait? We’re gonna let the Carrows terrorize and torture our schoolmates? Our friends?

-We’ll keep training. We’ll keep training, and when the time comes, we’ll be ready to finally fight back.

-I can’t.

-You have no choice, Nev. We’re in a state of war. War! You can’t just act on impulse! You have to focus on the bigger picture. We have to keep Hogwarts until Harry comes back.

You can’t just give us up.

-I’m not.

-Then fucking act like it!” she roared before leaving him alone in the middle of the corridor.

    “How’s Seamus?” Pansy finally asked, nestled against her boyfriend in their secret alcove. He had barely spoken since he came out of the Hospital Wing a few hours ago. His friend was barely breathing when she found him earlier that day; she could barely imagine what he must be feeling.

“Madam Pomfrey says he’s gonna be okay… but you saw him, right? You know how bad it looks like.

-I’m sorry. I wish I could have done something.

-It’s killing me. I wish I could do something. I wish I could…

-He’s gonna be okay, love.

-You don’t understand.” He murmured to her temple, matter-of-factly. “No one’s gonna be okay. We’re supposed to keep Hogwarts until Harry comes back. Then, we’ll fight to death. Thus I don’t see how anyone could be okay.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Look at me. Neville, I said look at me. People die every day out there. People die. But Seamus isn’t going to. It was a close call, but he will make it, and someday, he’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay because you’re gonna keep going. I know you, you’re not going to sit, hide somewhere and wait for the Mighty Saviour to come back. You’re going to keep standing up against the Carrows, maybe more now than ever. You’re going to keep standing up for the weaker, for those who are afraid, those who lay in hospital beds. You aren’t doing nothing. You weren’t there when Seamus got attacked, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be there for someone else, honey. It isn’t a fair fight, but I know you still in, right? And as long as you keep going, I’d bet on you. Now tell me, Neville, who are you betting on?

-I’m betting on you.

-I’m being serious here, darling.” She tried to repress a smile as he took off an eyelash from her cheek, keeping his hand against her skin.

“And I am, too. I want you to join the DA.

-I can’t.

-Everyone knows we’re fighting for the same side. I’m sure they’d take you in.

-I really can’t. I can fight against the Carrow; but

-Then would you train with me? Would you fight with me?

-Hell I’ll do. I’ll fight with you, Neville Longbottom. Until the very end.”

  ***

“What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” Pansy’s words resonated in the sudden silence of the Great Hall, making Ginny rush toward Harry, shielding him behind her. Soon, every member of the Orders and DA were standing in front of him or flanked by his side, wand out. Harry couldn’t be taken to Voldemort, and they wouldn’t let anyone do so; even if that meant hurting a fellow student.

 “Students out of bed! Students in the corridors!” Filch yelled as he burst breathless into the hall.

“They’re supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” Professor McGonnagal snapped, as the caretaker, realising his mistake, apologized flatly. “As it happens, Mr Filch, your arrival is most opportune. If you would, I would like you to lead Miss Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall.

-Where exactly is it I’ll be leading them to, ma’am?

-The dungeons will do.” she concluded, taking her attention back to Harry. “I presume you have a reason for returning, Potter. What is it you need?

-Time, professor. As much as you can get me.

-Do what you have to do. I’ll secure the castle. Potter …” She called again, slightly unsure on what was left to say. “It’s good to see you.

-It’s good to see you too, professor.” He said back, already on his way out. “Hold on the fort Neville!”

 Neville nodded. He knew what he had to do. Theày had made so many plans during the last three months that he didn’t have to consult Ginny before exposing them to the Order. He knew that she was agreeing with him and would have proposed the same tactic; but he also knew she was too distracted to take the lead right now. Harry was back. After months of wandering, his presence filled the castle.

Furthermore, organizing their defence and getting ready to fight for his life seemed to mute Pansy’s voice still echoing inside his head.

 “Pansy, come here.” Vince murmured, already sneaking out from the group led by Filch. “Draco will need us. They will need us.” His tone was barely a whisper as he couldn’t refrain his enthusiasm. He was metamorphosed, waiting for the Dark Wizard to take the school like a child waits for Christmas.

“I’m staying in the dungeon. And you probably should too. If Filch found you wandering

-He ain’t gonna see us! The Dark Lord is coming Pansy! The Dark Lord! No one will even see us! This is it, the time has come!

-I’m staying there. Blaise! Blaise!” she called out loudly, hoping to get scolded by the old man in the process, the other boy being ten foot away.

“What’s wrong with you Pans? Haven’t been noticed enough already?” he chided her, going upstream.

“Tell him we have to stay in the dungeon with the others!” she pleaded quietly.

“I’m not stayin’ in the dungeon! My place is in the battlefield! With my father and my own!

-Oh come on, Crabbe. You’re more likely to kill You-Know-Who by inadvertence. We’ll watch for you down there.

-I am not going to the dungeon! Aren’t you gonna fight for the Dark Lord?! Great Salazar, you aren’t going to, are you? You’re gonna stay hidden and wait for a side to lose. And when you’ll get out of your stash, you’ll try to get in the winner’s good graces. I pity you.” He spat, suddenly pouting like first year Draco.

“You can take you pity up your arse, for what I care. Come on, Pans, let gets to the dungeon before someone notice we’re missing.” He gave up, shaking his head before taking his friend by the hand. “I’m not gonna die for those fuckers” he muttered, walking them away.

“And Draco? What are you doing of Draco?” Vicent yelled. “If we lose, he’s gonna die tonight!”

 “Draco’s not gonna die, he’s not gonna die.” Blaise promised to a curled up Pansy. The room felt too small. On every faces, she could read the same anxiety she felt inside her, gnawing her. Theodore was on the other side of the room, his forehead against the stone wall. His father was probably somewhere at the borders, waiting for You-Know-Who’s orders. Locking them up in the dungeon, she’d avoided him the painful idea to face his dad, and die by his hand.

She knew Blaise was talking to her, she could feel his breath on her cheek, but she couldn’t hear him. If You-Know-Who lose tonight, Draco would… but even if he won, who knew what he’d have send him to beforehand. Blocking her breath, she tried to steady herself, focusing on everything else. She couldn’t do anything to save her friend, not at the cost of her baby life. A baby whose father was currently getting ready to fight upstairs. A baby whose father was soon going to mate his fate, too.

As Neville’s body lay lifeless in her mind, she started crying, trying her best at repressing the screams coming from her gut. She was going to lose her mind.

“Pansy! Pansy!” Blaise whispered hardly against her ear, trying to hold her as tight as could be as she kept biting her hand. “Pansy breathe!”

  They won. But where was the overwhelming joy he had imagined feeling? He was sitting alone in a bench, and couldn’t find any solace in his surroundings. The castle was destroyed. Families were destroyed. People had died tonight. Many people. Too many. As Luna came, taking the place beside him, he smiled at her. In another universe, her presence would have been enough to bring him out of the chaos. But not in this one. Here, he’d have need another girl. A girl who had just betrayed him.

 ***

It was almost two in the morning when the wooden door creaked loudly. Senses suddenly on alert, she grabbed her wand, pointing it toward the bedroom door.

“Pans?” a familiar voice called her from the living room. Barely raised, she let herself fall back in the mattress as she called him back, almost wailing, as tears of relief started rolling down her cheeks. He was back. He was back and he was alive. “Blaise!” she called, again, urging him to her as he burst through the doorframe.

“I’m here, I’m here. I’m right here.” He whispered, embracing her. “Theo’s here too.

-I thought, I thought they had

-Shht, it’s okay. It’s over, now. I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned.

-Can I come in?” Theo asked from behind the curtain “Everyone’s decent?”

The morning sun found them sleeping, mix of limbs half on the mattress, half on the floor. Blaise had taken feathers in the sheets while Theo hadn’t removed his blood stained shirt, but for one more hour, it would stay unsaid, inexistent.  

They had fallen asleep squeezed up against each other after wordlessly agreeing on doing the talking later. Theo had practically collapsed from exhaustion as his brain understood he was finally somewhere safe. The week has been hard. They could allow themselves a break. They could pretend everything was fine for the rest of the night.

 Theo woke up last.  For the first time in a week, he stayed a little bit longer under the cover, appreciating the sunrays and the quiet laughter of his friends on the other room. Hiding his face in his hand, he sighed happily. He was safe and sound, and above all, he wasn’t alone anymore. Obviously the shack was spartian. He had had a small glimpse of it as he got in but in the cruel light of reality, it was even worse. The bedroom wasn’t empty; the two mattresses lying on the floor were all it could contains. There wasn’t any drawer or shelf, only a traveling bag full of neatly fold clothes, ready to get picked up at any time. Opening the curtain separating the two rooms he realised the door was in fact missing. On the so called living room, Pansy and Blaise were sitting on buckets, eating their breakfast on a rickety table. Their food was stored against the wall where a chair was used as a shelf.

“You woke up!” Pansy smiled at him, pushing a bucket toward him. “If the gentleman wants to take a seat…

-We didn’t really know where to go.” Blaise shrugged as his friend tried the balance of his seat.

“It’s fine, okay? I mean, as long as you have toilets.

-That door.” she pointed the only other door. “But don’t expect a shower.

-As if I remembered what a shower is.

-When did you leave your house?

-I didn’t really get back, after… after…” he forfeited with a wave of the hand. “I got your letter by chance. I hadn’t meant to get back home, but as they had just taken father... I packed my things, took some galleons… I’ve been wandering in muggle London since we left Hogwarts… A roof is everything I’ve been praying for, Blaise. I know you guys are already on thin ice, I know how hazardous it is for you to shelter me. I am thankful. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.  

-I know, I’m sorry.

-What about you Pansy? Since we left Hogwarts?

-I’ve stayed at the Manor until the Aurors came in. Then I Apparated at Blaise’s. He took his bags and you know the rest of the story.

-So you saw Draco? Where is he?

-I don’t know.” She avowed, biting her lip.  “I... they came at night, and Draco… he said he couldn’t come with me.

-They’ve been taken to Azkaban.” Blaise voiced out for the first time. “Same night as your old man. Front page cover in every magazine.

-You never told me!” Pansy moaned, tears already filling her eyes.

“How could I’ve? You stayed fucking silent for three days Pans! You were barely functioning, I couldn’t tell you!

-He’s my bestfriend! I needed to know!

-You knew! The fucking Aurors bursted into his house in the middle of the fucking night by Salazar! you couldn’t have imagined they were taking him to the ball? The Death Eaters has always rot in Azkaban Pansy! Azkaban!

-Shut up! Stop it!” she screamed, trying to cover his words as he rose from his bucket.

“Oh, and flash new: Draco is a fucking Death Eater!” he yelled before slamming the door behind him.

 “You okay?” Theo tried as he finally found Blaise in the middle of the wood.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s just… I lose my temper. We… we had never talked about Draco before.

-Are you mad at her for leaving him behind?” he asked softly, still making him look away abruptly. “You feel like she ran without him…” he added, resting a tentative hand on his arm.

“She should have forced him!” he suddenly shouted, moving away. “Narcissa would have made up a lie to cover his absence, it could have worked! But she Apparated without him! And she dares! He! He’s in Azkaban for Merlin sake! In Azkaban!

-Blaise …” he whispered, making a step forward.

“It’s over!” he broke down, falling to his knees. “He’s never going to get out of there. No one ever gets out of there.”

  ***

“I think I’d like to know her.” Harry acknowledged as Neville stopped declaiming his love for Pansy Parkinson. There was no use in pretending that he wasn’t heels over head for the Slytherin girl, neither was some in pestering against the girl he once knew; she apparently wasn’t anymore. “Would you mind introducing me to her, someday? I mean, if you’re both okay with it of course.

-You really do?

-I hear you talk about the girl of your life for half an hour, Nev.” He smiled, fondly. “What kind of horrible friend would I be if I didn’t want to. I really want to get to know her for who she is now.

-Harry...” he sighted, obviously relief. “Thank you. It- It means so much for me.

-You’re welcome, really.” He answered, scratching his neck, uneased by his friend sudden warmness. Seemingly taken by the same feeling, Neville suddenly started picking his books for his daily classes before heading toward the door.

 “Harry?” he abruptly asked, stopping short in the middle of the corridor. “Do you think I could tell the others? I mean, do you think they would listen, too? I want them to know her; I want all of you to. And when the baby’s here… I want you guys to be part of her life. But if they don’t accept Pansy... I won’t know what to do …

-Hermione’s logical, family comes first for Ron, Dean testified at Malfoy’s trial and Seamus’s a big ball of fluffiness lately. I think they’d be okay with it. And if they aren’t, I’ll hex them.

-I’m being serious here.

-And I am, too. We’re more than just roommates or friends; we’re a family. We’ll stand with you.”  

 ***

Blaise came back to the shack when dusk started to slowly fade the outdoor world. Laying down on one of the mattress, Theo seemed fast asleep, Pansy absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“Hi.” He greeted quietly, closing the door as carefully as possible as Pansy crossed the few meters between them, taking a bucket to sit on. “Still worn out?” he asked, nodding toward the form on the bed.

“Seems like. Told me about his week, how he slept on streets when he could sleep at all. I gave him your clothes, by the way. I cleansed his.

-Thanks.

-It was nothing a tergeo couldn’t deal with, actually. It’s quite an efficient spell when it comes to blood.

-Cool.” He guessed, scanning their food stock. “I’ll cook dinner. Would you wake him up in a bit?

-Leaving Draco behind, it broke my heart, you know. But he- he’d never planned on running with me. Or running at all.

-I wouldn’t have left without him. I’d stayed by his side until we both could be safe.” He countered calmly, weighting the pro and con of eating the spinach tonight.  

“Blaise, please. He decided to get back to the Manor. He spent days there, waiting for the Aurors burst-in. He tidied up his room and burned things down. He was perfectly aware of the outgoing.

-You’re telling me he willingly waited for an Azkaban cell?

-I- I don’t know. But I know he did wait for the Aurors. I’m sorry Blaise but he didn’t fight. His parents called him downstairs and when I left, he was walking toward the door. He gave himself in.

-I can’t believe you.

-But you’ll have to! You can deny it as much as you want it will still be the one and only truth. He never planned on running away. Never.

-But it makes no sense!

-Maybe but that’s what happened. I’m sorry, Blaise. I’d have liked it to be otherwise… but he chose to stay.

-May I say something?” Theo interrupted, walking over them. “I saw him at the Manor, during winter break. Father had… meetings… there. It was already too much for him to bear, it was eating him from inside. He took the Mark, he … Who knows what he was ordered to do? Who knows what he did and witness? I don’t, but I can guess… He hated it, being a Death Eater, but that doesn’t undo the fact that he was one. And I think that’s why he gave himself in; he knew that what he did was wrong so he did what he thought was right. I think he tried to pay the price...”

Letting Theo’s words sink in, they stood in silence for a while. His pitch made sense. It was terrific in a way, but it made sense.

“If you guys are ready, I think it’s time to figure out how we can help him now.” Theo directed.

A few accio later, they were sitting around the table, feathers ready to plan everything up.

“Firstly, I think we need to know if we’re really looking for.

-Really, mate? We spent the last day running away from Aurors trying to find you.

-But as you aren’t Death Eater children, or Death Eater, or even Allies of the Dar- of Voldemort, we have to be sure about it.  And if one or both of you are wanted, we can’t just guess for what crimes. We can’t plan anything up without a foreseen of which potential penalties you could incur if we get caught.

-Don’t get me wrong, I get the idea; I just don’t think we’ll find a list in a muggle newspaper. We’ll have to go back to the Wizarding World, and I think it’s too risky.

-Maybe, maybe we can ask Neville.” Pansy proposed, avoiding their astonished gaze. She clenched her fists under the table, trying to stop her hands from shaking this much.

“Neville? Like in Neville Longbottom?” Blaise asked first.

“Indeed.

-And why would he help us? He hates us!” Theo asked second, hands moving in disbelief.

“I dated him. Back in Hogwarts.” She blurted out, making them both curse in surprise. “He’s not the weak-minded we thought he was, you know. He’s clumsy, that’s undeniable, but he’s brave too and he’s got a fierceness you’d be jealous from.

-Are we still talking about Neville Longbottom?” Blaise inquired, earning a death glare from the other side of the table and a kick from beside. “Just asking! So, you dated him.

-That’s what I just told you, yes.

-And since you broke his heart, he’s going to gently give us what we want. Seriously Pans’, I’m not planning for a death trap.

-He’s not going to report us!

-Can you guarantee it?” Theo requested, trying to stay focused on the task.

“Of course I can! I’ll talk to him, and he’ll help us.”

  “Pansy, you’re sleeping?” Blaise whispered in the middle of the night.

“What’s wrong?

-Neville, did you love him?

-Does it matter?

-If you did, yes. I mean, maybe, yes.

-I still love him.

Blaise?” she asked after a few second of silence.

“Yes?

-Is it a problem?

-You love a moron; it’s your problem, not mine.

-Dickhead.” She smiled, turning to her side, hoping to fall asleep despite the fast beating of her heart.

 “Pansy?

-Something to ask about Neville again?

-When did you date him?

-From November to last April.

-How could I never notice?

-We hide it to everyone. We weren’t sure to be understood, even less tolerated. I being Draco’s bestie and he, Harry’s.

-Romeo and Juliet die in the end, you know.

-Who?

-Romeo and Juliet. It’s a muggle theatre piece.

-What?

-Nott and Malfoy.

-Oh. We’re not gonna die. No one is gonna die.

-I hope so.”

 “Blaise?” she called, in turn. “Are you asleep?

-Not anymore. What’s wrong?

-You really don’t mind, about Neville and me?

-I really don’t mind.

-Cool.

-And, Blaise?” she murmured, laying closer to him.

“I really want to sleep Pans.

-I’ve got something to tell you.

-‘M all ears.

-I’m pregnant.

-You’re what?” he asked urgently, suddenly sitting.

“I’m pregnant.” She repeated kindly, sitting up too.

“You’re… you’re pregnant.” He echoed quietly as Pansy slowly put his hand on her belly.

“I am. Neville doesn’t know yet, but even if he doesn’t want the child, I do.

-We’re gonna raise a baby in our shack then.

-Blaise?

-A death eater for godfather. Nott as home teacher; I’ll be the cool uncle. It can work out.” He kept mumbling under his friend amused glaze.

“You’re the pervert uncle. I’ll be the cool one.” Theo corrected, his voice smothered in sleep.

***

Like every Friday night since the start of the school year, Harry was sitting in his dorm with his closest friends, sharing jokes and butterbeers. Ron was the exception, though. Lying on his belly, he was trying to finish his DADA essay due for the day before as Dean doodled encouragement on his drafts. The sooner he would be done, the sooner they’d be able to sneak out of the castle to the Quidditch pitch for a midnight game. The official Gryffindor team has asked him to keep playing as their seeker, but he had politely declined the offer after their first game. He couldn’t fly in the red colours; not anymore; not without his friends flying by his side. The win wasn’t worth the emptiness he felt above the grounds. Still, Harry came to their trainings, cheering and mocking whenever needed. But he missed the adrenaline, diving to the ground and the mesmerizing fly of the Snitch. Until the day Ron suggest a quick match after one of his trainings. Flying around chasing each other, they soon found out it was far more entertaining to wait for the sun to go down. Tonight they’d planned a 3 vs 3, chaser, keeper, seeker; Neville unexpectedly agreeing on playing Chaser, and if Ron hurried up, the odds were on their favour. On the Marauder's Map, Filch and Mrs Norris had begun their tour in the dungeon.

“Will you be done in thirty minutes?” he asked his friend, accustomed to their routine. In thirty minutes, they’d be climbing the Ravenclaw tower, leaving them free to walk out in the corridors.

“How look did it took you to do your essay?

-Hours.

-So how could I be done in thirty minutes? Plus Dean’s drawings are messing up my answers.” He growled as an ink knight piss on his third paragraph, making the room burst from laugher. “Can’t you just snog Seamus for Merlin tits?

-I don’t just snog Seamus.” He countered, holding his ribs. Hermione had add a friend beside the knight, and he was currently handing him some butterbeers, dropping half of their content on the parchments.

“Come on! I’ll never be done with it!

-Then hurry up! Who knows what they’ll do when they got drunk!” Harry guffawed, not so sure that the Quidditch game was still going to be the highlight of his day.

“What? No! Come on, Dean, erase them!

-Do you mean they don’t they deserve a little bit of fun?” he asked, hovering his feather above the parchment, all malice and pride.

“How do you fuck a knight in shining armour?” Seamus suddenly wondered out loud, making Ron turn red at the thought of having drawings shagging on his essay.

“You pervert! Come on Harry, let’s get to the Quidditch pitch.” Ron forfeited, standing up.

“I think I wanna stay there. See how it goes.

-Harry, no…

-Stop playing the virgin, Weasley. We all know you aren’t anymore.” Seamus teased, throwing a pillow at him. “Or maybe it’s disturbing you because they’re two guys?

-Who said the knight was a guy?” Hermione retorted, taking it suddenly more seriously.

“It could be a fucking hippogriff for what I care! I just don’t want it on my essay! Draw porn elsewhere!

-You could draw porn on me.

-Seamus!” they yelled in harmony, watching hilarious their friend taking down his shirt in the unsexyest way ever.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Neville stated, matter-of-factly.

On the bed, Dean let his ink dripped on Seamus’s skin. “What are you on about, mate?” he asked for everyone.

With a quick glance toward a nodding Harry, Neville answered in a breath. “I’m leaving Hogwarts on the 24th.”

“Shut up, please.” Harry ordered politely, cutting his friends’s thousand questions mumbling. “Let him talk.

-Thanks, Harry.”

As the dorm felt silence, Neville started telling them the same story he told Harry a few days before.

The story of a boy who fell in love with a girl he wasn’t supposed to like and how they were now going to have a baby girl, named Alyssa Longbottom.    

  ***

Sitting in the silence of his old bedroom, Neville couldn’t stop rehashing the same thoughts over and over again.

She’d promised him. He hadn’t break her heart, she had no right to fry his brain.

She had no right to break his heart.

But in the darkness of his old bedroom, it seems pretty clear that she didn’t care about it. She’s done both. She switched side. And still, he meant every word he said to her.

 Burying his face in his pillow, he let out a low growl before hitting the mattress with all his strength. He needed the anger. He craved for rage to storm him up. He couldn’t let his heart drove him crazy. He couldn’t; but yet.

He thought he knew her. And then, in a snap of her fingers, everything had turned terribly wrong, leaving him replaying the last months in his head. He had to see what he hadn’t back then, he had to find out the moment she snapped. Cause it had to be somewhere. And he had to find it. Cause if he didn’t… Then the little voices in his head could only be right. It would mean it had all been a lie, a masquerade against the resistance inside the castle. But they had to be wrong. They had to; he couldn’t handle it if his best memories were all faked. The sparks in her eyes, the happiness in her laugh, the warmth of their embrace, could it all has been pretended? Had he only saw his own feeling in her iris? Has he been the only one falling? Could he been the only one shattered now?

 He had survived the Carrow and Voldemort himself. He had postponed death; to this.

 Neville took the pillow and threw it to the window.

He knew it was called a heart break; yet every inch of his body ached.

 ***

“Nev, can we talk? In private.” Seamus added to the bunch of first years circling him. Neville wasn’t as halloed as the sacrosanct Boy Who Lived Twice, but sorting Godric Gryffindor’s sword in the middle of the battlefield was enough to be known and respect by all.

“About last night?

-Yes. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” he started, vaguely moving his hands as they both perfectly knew what he meant. When Neville had told them about Pansy and Alyssa, he had simply rose to his feet and left the dorm without a word. Dean had tried to call him back in, in vain. “I shouldn’t have left. It’s just… I don’t understand. I simply don’t understand.” He repeated, slowly, weighting his every word. “Yes, she’s carrying your child, but then? She betrayed us, she betrayed you and then you are, ready to give up your future to her. She betrayed you when it matter the most, Nev. When it matter the most. I’m- I’m just afraid for you. It’s so easy to believe when you love someone; it’s so easy to be fooled. I don’t want you to make the biggest mistake of your life because she made you think it was the only right thing to do. She doesn’t deserve you, she doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, and she- she just doesn’t deserve your future.

-Are we still talking about me?” he softly asked as Seamus eyes had slowly become red.

“Of course we are! You’re my friend! We’ve been through hell lately, and I know how- how love sometimes- I… Last year, when Dean was gone, when… when the Carrow… I remember how desperate I was for his presence. I just don’t want you to- to commit the biggest mistake of your life because you feel broken inside, okay? It just, I want you to be safe, and happy, with the good girl. And I’m afraid Pansy’s not. She betrayed you once, who can tell she won’t do it again?

-She didn’t betray me, Shay. She followed a stupid plan. She knew no one would grab Harry, she just wanted to be out of the battlefield. She wanted our baby to be somewhere safe.

-Neville… Do you know what it looks like? A fucking rescue pirouette.

-Too pretty to be true, I know. For two weeks I thought she had switch sides. Two weeks during which I’ve been asking myself what capital information I’ve been given her, which lives I took with my stupid trust in her. And then, she was suddenly at my doorstep, begging me to let her in. It was raining, she was freezing, I let her in and she told me everything I wanted. Scalded cat fears cold water, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends blabla. How could I believed her? But it made sense, you know. It made more sense than her sudden betrayal. I knew within me it was true. And then, when she submitted herself to the Aurors, she took Veritaserum. And she told them the exact same things she told me before. You don’t have to worry about it, about me. I understand, and it means a lot to me, but we’ll be okay. I know I can trust her, and she knows she can trust me, too. Okay, Seamus? I’m not being fooled around.

-If you say so.

-Harry’s gonna meet her, and even if he can be pretty oblivious, he always know when something wicked our way come. Okay?

-Okay.

-Okay.” It somehow felt like a promise as Neville took a step forward and hug his friend tight. They were all going to be okay, he knew it.

  Standing before the chimney in the middle of the Headmistress office, Neville couldn’t help but turn around to look at his friends a last time. It wasn’t a farewell, only a goodbye, but they were red eyed.

Dawn had found them all awake, lying on the floor of their common room as they made promises they hoped none of them would break. The father-to-be didn’t know it yet, but hidden in his luggage were five little presents. Five little reminders than wherever he was, he would still have a home wherever they’ll be.  

[durenjtmusings]

10 Baby Facts for SPN Fic Authors

[I swear this is not a rant - it ISN’T. Honest.]

It is actually kind of cool to realize that you possess specialty knowledge that may be of use to others. Stuff that you didn’t really KNOW you knew, until, of course, you are reading along in a fic and something the author describes (or the character says) brings your brain to a screeching halt. “That’s not right – it can’t possibly happen that way…” And then you go and do actual research to back up your gut knowledge. This little FAQ is the result of one such realization.

My dad fixed antique and classic cars for a living from 1964 – 1978, owning his own showroom for 3 years near the end of that time. Born in 1966, I grew up playing in old cars, hiding in floorboards and exploring them to my heart’s content. Our family car for several years was a 1966 Thunderbird, but when dad went to car shows, we rode in whatever he wanted to show off. I’ve been in rumble seats, hard top convertibles, cars with windshields that laid down flat, and cars with no roof, doors, or walls of any kind. My 1st car was a fully restored 1966 mustang. Without really realizing it, I soaked up a LOT of inherent understandings about older cars. The information below is based in that knowledge, backed up with some internet research.

The following is true about Baby (the character in SPN, not necessarily the actual cars that play her): 

1) Compared to most modern sedans, Baby is BIG. Like REALLY BIG. She is 17 and ¾ feet long (5.4 meters) and 7 feet 8 inches wide (2.03 meters). Allowing for door thickness on either side and the gaps between doors and bench seat, I’m betting the front seat is a little over 5 feet wide. Given basic geometry and human skeletal limitations, this means it is not possible for the passenger to have their head resting against the passenger door/window AND place their hand on the driver’s thigh. If the passenger is in this position, the driver can,  at best, entwine fingers with the passenger’s outstretched hand. That’s IT (even with Sam’s monkey arms). Sitting up straight, yes. Slumped over, no. On the plus side, this is why the guys can, in fact, get some sleep in her (and have fun in the back seat).

2) Despite how big Baby is, she is kinda short. Baby is only 54 inches high (4’6” or 138 cm). INSIDE the car, she is slightly less than 4 feet tall total. This means that the following actions WILL make you bump your head (or butt or hands or feet) on the ceiling unless you are very very slow and careful: climbing over the back seat, straddling someone’s lap, taking off your pants or t-shirt (unless nearly lying down in the seat), and lunging across the front bench seat to attack someone bodily. And you will look graceless doing it. [Ahem, trust me on these, I KNOW.] Additional negative modifiers for Sam due to height.

More below the cut.

3) Baby HATES crappy roads. Her big body has an all steel frame and body panels plus a very large engine system. Baby is HEAVY. She weighs a *minimum* of 3704 lbs empty. With equipment and the boys in her, she is over 2 tons. Oh and Baby is LOW. Her ground clearance is slightly less than 6 inches. This means an 8 inch deep pot hole (like the one in episode 11.01, above) can bottom out her axle and stop her in her tracks.  She SUCKS on rough terrain. Oh, and getting her OUT of said hole? Will require a JACK and a lot of swearing. (Baby is rear-wheel drive – her front wheels aren’t getting her out of anywhere). There was NO way the boys lifted her out of that hole in that episode (especially since they showed up in the next scene NOT covered in mud).

4) Baby is, in fact, good to have in a wreck. That all steel frame means she can practically bounce off of most modern cars. You’ll note they use large SUVs and tractor trailer trucks to hurt her. The fact that she makes it through the bumps and bruises she does is relatively accurate. In addition, Baby’s model had shoulder* seat belts in the front driver and passenger sides ‘standard’. Now this doesn’t mean the guys have to wear ‘em, or that Dean/John didn’t take ‘em out, but they were a standard safety measure. If you are wearing them, however, all movement described in 1 & 2 above is even MORE limited/complicated. Wearing them should keep you from getting thrown out of the car in an accident. Without them - you are the rock in a slingshot, out you go.

5) Baby’s model ONLY had a full, flat, smooth bench seat all the way across (front and back). She should NOT be drawn or described with a split front seat or (shudder) bucket seats of any kind. Sliding across this kind of seat from one side to the other was, in fact, a fun game for us as kids. Again, this makes her relatively ideal for napping…kinda. The backwards tilting angle is weird to sleep on and the seat itself is narrow front to back. it isn’t ideal, just possible.

6)  Baby’s gear shift is on the steering column (and she is an automatic). While there is a hump in the floor boards for the transmission, there is exactly zero to climb over for anyone who might be…shifting positions for activities in the front seat. In fact, given #1 above, it is possible for three grown adults to sit in the front seat, although the floor bump makes the middle person uncomfortable (unless they are short). Leg crowding and hip/elbow bumping will occur, but it can be done without too much discomfort. This means Baby can seat 6 with only mild discomfort (and in fact, has seat belts for 6 standard - see #4 above). You could do 7 if the four in the back are small (or someone lays across the other three – What? I’ve done it). OK, if later season Sam is in the front seat, the person in the middle better be Claire or Jody.

7)  Baby, as portrayed on screen, has lots of “optional” features. Most likely, John and Dean have been regularly ‘upgrading her’ over the years. For example she has “all vinyl interior” (standard was cloth and vinyl combined). The extra headlamps in early seasons are another example (and of course the trunk modifications). The ‘67 impala came with a wide variety of transmission and engine options. Even before the Season 1 finale, Baby likely had a “non-standard” engine system. Who KNOWS how powerful a system Dean put into Baby in the FIRST reconstruction (because, trust me, she needed a new engine) and what he might have done since then.

8)  Baby is OLD school rock and roll. *NEW* for the 1967 model year was the option of a tape deck – an 8 track tape deck. Dean’s ‘compact cassette’ deck is an after-market modification, likely sometime after John bought it in 1973. The compact cassette player is not “authentic” or “original” for Baby. (Although Dean may say or think so, he, in fact, knows better.) John likely listened to 8-tracks or to just the radio if the previous owner hadn’t put an 8-track in her.

9)  Baby is EXPENSIVE to maintain: > At best, Baby gets between 10-15 miles to the gallon (4.26-6.19 kpl), depending on the size of the engine Dean put in her most recently (and the tweaks he has made to it). As a corollary, Baby’s top speed is between 95-130 mph (152-209 kph) also depending on the engine. Top speed is inversely proportional to gas mileage. The bigger/faster engine Dean uses, the crappier the gas mileage. > Baby’s engines – ALL of them – are designed for ‘leaded’ gas. To get the most out of her, Dean has to regularly give her additives. > At this point, parts for Baby are either original ‘leftovers’ from the manufacturer (and very expensive) or from junk yards (used) or from online specialty stores (or Dean machines them himself). Glass, in particular, is going to be a special order. This means that ANY fic you write can include gripes about the COST of Baby (or the challenges in finding parts for her). Really, If I was FBI/enemy hunting Dean, I’d haunt the 67 Impala online groups  - which is where Dean’d go to find parts for cheap. They’d all know each other – classic car enthusiasts are a small close-knit community.

10)  Baby needs LOTS of regular maintenance. The mileage on baby, at this point, is almost a moot number. She’s had at least 2 new engines and one new transmission. She’s had just all sorts of parts replaced. Dean can tell you what’s still truly original, but for the most part, consider only the mileage you see from seasons 2 on when considering wear and tear. That said, Baby is FIFTY years old this season. Yet, as depicted, her interior and her engine are PRISTINE. Dean must spend TONS of time regularly detailing her inside and out. I mean LOOK at the carpets in the image for #5-6 above. There is NO MUD or dirt anywhere. The dashboard isn’t all faded or cracked from sunlight, and the vinyl hasn’t any rips or stains. Now, granted, likely most of that was all replaced with as new as Dean could get in 2006, but still, it takes a LOT of work to keep a car looking like that even if you keep her under a cover in the garage all the time. Baby is an actively working classic car, with the added bonus of blood and other nasty goo all over her on a regular basis. Any time a fic writer needs something for Dean to do, he can be working on Baby. There is ALWAYS something for him to be doing. [Heaven forefend he lube the damn door hinges.]

Bonus Facts: Baby is HOT. No, I mean it, all black vinyl seats and steering wheel sitting all day in the sun – is scorching hot. Like “I can’t touch anything without yelping” hot.  The 67 Impala had air conditioning as an option, so the guys likely have it, but it will still take a while to cool her down in the summer – especially in the southwest.  She will likely also take a bit of time to heat up from dead cold in the winter – especially for those in the back seat. And she isn’t air tight or well insulated, she’ll have subtle drafts. Which also means she’ll fill up fast and sink like a rock if she goes into water (2 TONS – see #3 above).

I hope this is helpful to SPN fic writers. I certainly feel better for writing it - this was fun! :)

*Updated - *brackets* for shoulder seat belts were standard - the belts themselves were an option.

[welcome2theneighborhood]

100°

Chapter IV

‘Dear Amanda,

I’d lost the love of my life once, and I don’t know if I can do it again.’

AO3

The big day. My baby girl was graduating from college. Every parent’s dream.

I was probably up way too early, though. I’d bought something nice to wear for the ceremony, but by the time I was all done showering and ironing and getting dressed, I realized no one else was even awake yet, nor did they have to be. Six in the morning. Craig might’ve gotten up for a quick jog, but I’d told him to put that bit of the routine aside for our little vacation. So I was the only person awake, fully dressed, alone, and waiting for a proper time to get everyone else up.

I couldn’t even watch TV.

At eight I got tired of just sitting around and decided this was a fine time to start the day. I clapped my hands together loudly, moving between the beds. “Alright, rise and shine, everyone, we’ve got a big day ahead of us!”

The girls clearly didn’t appreciate me as an alarm clock, so they didn’t let me help them get ready. Which was a shame, because then Craig had to do it while also having to get ready himself, while I sat around ready and pretty useless. I tried to jump in and help River brushing her teeth, but she was pretty cranky and put off by it, so I backed out of the bathroom.

We got there early to get the best seat possible. The first several rows were reserved for the graduating students, but everything else was fair game. The auditorium was huge, but there were many students in the ceremony today. Amanda was only allowed enough tickets for four people, which we didn’t know until that morning, but the woman at the door suggested that we could all fit if one of us didn’t mind River sitting on our knees. So we took our seats, front and center, River wandering up and down the aisle but told to come and sit on Craig’s lap once more people started filing in.

It all went by in a blur. I was so excited I could hardly think straight. I was only barely aware of what was going on in the seats next to me.

“Dad, I’m hungry,” one of the twins groaned, but I didn’t catch which one. By force of habit, and very much in Father Mode, I almost responded with a Classic Dad Joke (even though Briar/Hazel wasn’t talking to me) but Craig cut off that thought.

“Hey, bro, I’m gonna go see if there’s a little cafe or something nearby.”

I realized then that we hadn’t had the chance to eat before we left, and was surprised that the matter of food hadn’t come up sooner. Kudos to the girls for being on the ball today. “Yeah, yeah, go on, I’ll save your seat.”

“Do you want anything?”

“Just get me whatever, I’m too excited to really be hungry.”

He nodded and stood (with some difficulty) and headed out to find our breakfast. I looked over at the girls. Briar was looking through the graduation program, and I saw her circle Amanda’s name in it with a pink highlighter. Hazel had her feet up on the seat in front of her, earbuds in and texting. River moved a seat over to sit next to me, but pretended to hide. I smiled and played along. “Oh no, where’d River go?” I wondered aloud.

Hazel looked over in concern before catching on. “Oh, I think we lost her!”

River was grinning widely behind the hands over her face. “Your dad’s gonna be really upset to see she’s missing!”

“I’m not missing, Dean!” she laughed, finally uncovering herself and dropping the ruse. “I’m right here!”

“Oh, there you are!” I hugged her and squeezed her tight. “We thought you were gone forever!”

She giggled and tried to push me off. “You guys are silly!”

“We’re very silly.” Hazel ruffled her sister’s hair and returned to her phone. River leaned over the armrest and asked if she could do word jumbles with me. I always carried my pocket version with me, even to my daughter’s graduation, so I whipped it out and we started working on one of the easier puzzles. I got schooled by a kindergartener.

Craig came back just before the ceremony was due to start. The auditorium was now packed with proud parents like myself, and I felt part of the collective but also a drive to brag about my daughter’s accomplishments. The little old grandmother next to me held her own quite well until my partner returned and a truce was called. “Hey, what’d you find?”

“There was a little bakery around the corner, so I picked up some muffins.” He handed them out to his daughters one by one, each receiving their favorite flavors. I’d barely unwrapped my pumpkin muffin before realizing Craig didn’t seem to get anything for himself, but before I could say anything, the graduation march started playing and all other thoughts fled my mind but “MY BABY IS GRADUATING.”

I’d seemed to have forgotten just how boring graduation ceremonies could be, though. The room was overcrowded and hot and was too noisy to properly hear anything, and I couldn’t see Amanda from this angle, and all I could do was wait for that ten glorious seconds when Amanda would be up on that stage, shaking hands with the dean and other school officials I didn’t know or care to know about, but it just seemed to be taking so long to get to that moment. In the meantime I just ate half my muffin, and shoved the other half into Craig’s hand.

I could hear River whining from her seat, and what I wouldn’t give in that moment to be a five-year-old who could get away with something like that. “Dad, when’s it over?”

“Just try to be patient, sweetpea. This is a big day for Amanda. She worked really hard to be here today, and we’re here to celebrate her achievement.” But because kids weren’t so easy to keep seated very long with nothing to do, Craig always had a Plan B on him, a composition notebook and box of crayons. He gave them to her with the promise that she would draw quietly, so she didn’t disturb the people around us. She nodded and got to work, not making a peep for the rest of the wait.

And then it happened.

And as soon as it did, it was over.

I’d just barely managed to get a picture while she was up on there, but it was blurry and overexposed and I cursed under my breath, loudly enough for Craig to hear me but not River sitting next to him. He’d gotten a picture, but his hands weren’t shaking, so he managed to get a much better version. I kissed him hard on the cheek and smiled to myself as I sunk into the chair to suffer through the rest of the event.

It took forever to find Amanda in the sea of graduates right after the ceremony. She wanted to introduce us to her friends, some of whom I recognized their names. I was honestly just grateful there weren’t additional Emmas in her life.

We’d made reservations for an early dinner, and really had to get going, but Amanda kept making excuses to not have to leave yet. I could recognize the pain of separation from the people she’d spent these long years with, and considered that maybe we still had time to cancel. I only barely mentioned it to Craig before he was calling it in, phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder as he held River up out of the crowd.

So we weren’t going out to a nice dinner that night. We went back to one of the friends’ apartments and ordered from various restaurants. While we waited we all made bets on who what order the delivery people would arrive in. The twins made out with twenty dollars each that night, while Amanda had to pay each person’s tips. I slipped her a twenty, and jokingly told her to consider it her graduation present.

Afterwards we played charades and a couple of games from the theater kids that I swear they were making up on that spot. When River and Atticus got bored of Legos and Barbie dolls, they put on a show for us that went on about an hour longer than we could’ve ever expected. I was surprised at how all the non-parents in the room kept enthusiastically engaged the whole time.

I’d say it was a pretty nice dinner after all.

As the night started coming to a close, I decided it was probably time to reveal Amanda’s actual graduation present. I’d gotten both her and Morgan monogrammed bracelets with teal beads and a golden band, reminiscent of their school colors. Morgan didn’t seem to expect the gist, and as I was being mauled in a hug by my daughter, she just smiled breathlessly and gave a quiet “thank you.”

“But wait, there’s more!” I added, putting on my best Billy Mays impression -and by my best, I meant probably the worst anyone in the room could imagine. I pulled out a carefully wrapped gift, covered in glittery green paper and wrapped up with a twirly blue bow. “Okay, this one’s technically from all of us.”

Though an only child, Amanda was far from spoiled. An only child myself, I knew to avoid something like that, no matter how easy it would be just to give in to her every wish and desire. I would bleed myself dry for this girl, but she never took advantage of that. Amanda didn’t know, nor expect, that she was getting anything but the first rather simple gift. So I knew that when she opened the second one to find a new and supposedly high-quality art tablet inside, I had to get a picture of her reaction.

This time my picture really captured the excitement of the moment.

[thegirlsinthefirehouse]

Descendants, Chapter 16

AN:  Running a little late with this one. Sorry! Added a couple of things that made me feel better about this chapter. -----

Holtzmann’s dad had invited them over for dinner after he got off of work. 

The smells were delicious as they entered the small four room bungalow with Holtz’s key in a neighborhood near downtown Baltimore. When her dad stuck his head out the kitchen door, Holtzmann squealed and ran up and hugged him. Abby smiled and watched the happy scene. Dean Holtzmann was a kind and gentle man with a sharp mind for fabrics and textiles. He loved patterns and textures and did a lot of work for clothing and furniture companies alike. He was well received for his work around the world.

Which was probably the reason he had allowed his daughter to run amok with science. He did his own experimentation with colors and design, so why couldn’t she with metal and electricity?

“You finally got here I see,” he grinned.

“This place gets smaller and smaller,” said Holtz, looking around at all the rolls of fabric sitting everywhere and pattern designs tacked up on the walls.

“It’s all the junk I keep bringing in. I should have never moved out of our other house I think,” he said, smiling. “Abby, good to see you.” He gestured for her to come give him a hug. Holtz tugged on Abby’s arm, getting her to stay.

“Dad, I’ve got someone you need to meet first. “Holtzmann the III, I want to introduce you to Holtzmann the I. This is your other grandpa.” Abby held back a laugh as Holtz rubbed the small bump on her abdomen. She put a hand over Holtz’s, smiling at her.

“You-- you two are having a baby?” said Dean, looking surprised. “Jillian...”

“We came to surprise you,” she said with a grin. “Now I know what you’re thinking Dad. We’re too young to be having kids, but we decided now would be the right time...”

“I’m going to be Granddad,” he said, stunned. He came over and wrapped his arms around Abby first, then Holtzmann. He held her at arm’s length, smiling as he looked at her.

“Your mom would be so happy right about now.”

“I’m sure Mom’s around here somewhere,” Holtz said, gesturing towards the ceiling. “But yeah, little munchkin will be here soon enough.”

“Not soon enough for Abby, I’m sure,” said Dean. “How far along--?”

“17 weeks,” said Abby.

“You’ve got a good chunk to go then,” he said. “Has she been treating you like a queen Abby? Because she’d better be.”

“My wife will not want for anything,” said Holtzmann.

“She’s next,” said Abby. “If we decide to have more.” Holtzmann mouthed “NO” to her father and pointed to Abby with both hands. When Dean laughed, Abby turned and looked at Holtz, who pretended to stand still and look innocent.

“I will never understand you two and your antics,” said Dean. “But that’s probably for the best as long as you do. Come on in to the kitchen and let's sit down. Dinner will be done in about five minutes. I made pot roast.”

“I love you,” said Holtzmann, hugging her dad. “And your pot roast.” She wandered into the kitchen and started pulling out plates.

“Does Holtz have your email?” asked Abby to Dean. “We won’t be getting another sonogram for about three weeks, but I can send it to you.”

“I’d love that,” he said. “And she does.” Abby nodded.

“I’m happy you decided to do this,” he said. “I can’t wait to see my grandchild with you two as parents.”

“Just a bit scary,” said Abby. “Lots of things to worry about.”

“Don’t even think about it,” said Dean. “It’ll work itself out in due time.”

“I hope so,” said Abby with a sigh. She laid a hand on her abdomen.

“I know it will,” he said, patting Abby on the shoulder.

----- The next morning, Holtzmann flopped happily down on her dad's couch. He had invited them back over for breakfast when they told him that they didn't have plans. But the frittata was still baking, and he hadn't finished the fruit salad when they arrived. Abby volunteered to help with the latter so Dean could show Holtz something before they ate.

"So... after you and Abby left last night, I got to thinking. I still had a box of your baby things, so I thought I'd pull them out to see if there is anything you might want for keepsakes or for the baby." He gestured to the box on the coffee table. "I added a couple of things over the years after... but it's mostly stuff your mom wanted to keep as memories." Holtz picked up the plastic bin, feeling odd. She remembered going through the things when she was little with her mother. There had been some sort of kindergarten project about where they had come from, and her mother had shown her the baby book she and her dad had done for her. But other than that, she didn't remember much about what was inside. She hesitated for a moment. That meant that there would be reminders of her mother all in this book. It had been a while since she had come upon the ghost of Malinda Holtzmann.

"Jillian?" asked Dean, frowning. "You alright?"

"Fine, dandy. Right as rain," she said, smiling back. Dean knew that look. Jillian was hiding behind her mask. He rubbed the back of her hand, smiling sadly.

"I miss her too," he said softly. The wince that came across her face was enough of an answer. He patted her shoulder. "Why don't I go relieve Abby and send her your way? I'm sure she would love to see your baby things. Have you ever shown her?" Holtz shook her head no.

"All the more reason then," he said, getting up and going into the kitchen. Holtz was putting her hands on the box when her wife came into the room.

"Baby stuff, huh?" said Abby.

"Yeah, just the boring stuff that I had," said Holtzmann. "Nothing special." Abby sat down and kissed Holtz on the cheek.

"Of course it is special. It was yours."

"Yeah well..." said Holtz, trailing off. She took a deep breath and blew it out comedically before taking off the lid. Something on top automatically caught her attention. "Pudding!" she exclaimed, amazed. She picked up the small chocolate colored bear.

"I thought I had lost you..." She looked over to the kitchen and held up the bear. "Dad?" He came out of the room, grinning.

"I found him a couple of years ago when I was donating some clothes. He was in the pocket of an old jacket of mine. You know, that green--"

"I was playing hide and seek," stated Holtz, suddenly remembering.

"With the teddy bear?" asked Abby.

"He was a good hider," nodded Holtz. She laughed, looking at the bear. "All these years and you were still hiding." Dean chuckled at that. Abby had her suspicions that Holtz's dad had done a little fixing up overnight. The bowtie looked newer than it should and the plastic eyes looked refreshed and bright. But she'd never tell Holtzmann that. She laughed when Holtz placed the teddy bear next to her baby bump.

"You want Pudding to come with us, don't you?"

"I'm sure they do," said Abby, smiling. "It's a cute bear."

"Of course, he was mine," sniffed Holtz. She hugged the bear close. Abby took a picture with her cellphone of Holtzmann with her eyes closed behind her glasses and cuddling with the teddy bear.

"That's going in the baby book," she teased. Holtzmann pulled out a small baby outfit in a plastic Ziploc bag. It was pink. Holtz wrinkled her nose. It wasn't even a very light, barely there pink. It would put Pepto Bismol to shame. And it had glitter. Abby had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at her poor wife.

"It's very... cute." Holtz rolled her eyes and groaned.

"This is not going home." She grabbed Abby's phone before she could take a picture of it. "And you are not taking a picture and sending it to Erin and Patty." Abby pouted and picked up the bag.

"That's sweet that it was your coming home outfit," she teased. She wrapped her arms around Holtzmann. "I'm sure you were quite adorable in this."

"You can see," said Holtz. She put a baby book in Abby's lap. "I was a little cupcake." This time Abby did laugh at little Holtzmann asleep in the arms of her mother who was sitting in a wheelchair right next to a nurses' station. She really did look like a little pink frosted cupcake in the outfit.

"That's going to be you soon enough," cooed Holtz. "With our baby."

"As long as things go alright," said Abby. She sat up and started flipping through the baby book. Seeing all the little details Holtz's mom and dad had made gave her ideas for theirs. The matching hospital bracelets were definitely something she wanted to do since they were going to have three.

"It will," said Holtz softly. She rubbed a hand across Abby's baby bump. Abby closed the book and reached for a small box inside the plastic bin. Holtz looked curious too when she opened it. Wrapped in tissue paper was a patchwork blanket of different fabrics, just big enough for a newborn. Holtzmann laughed and ran her hand across it. She smiled and automatically knew who had made that. She laid her head on Abby's shoulder.

"Dad does such good work."

"And in such good condition," said Abby. She held it up, wondering what baby Holtz would have been like. Holtzmann pulled it closer to her. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.

"It smells like mom." She gently took it from Abby, practically curling up into it, just breathing in. "I can't believe I still remember how she smelled." Abby looked up and saw Dean standing in the doorway, watching his daughter. There were tears starting to form in her eyes. He smiled sadly and headed into the kitchen. Abby rubbed her wife's back.

"I think we found the baby's first blanket." The automatic smile she got from Holtz was enough to brighten up the tears. Holtz wiped her face, laughing a little at her emotions. She teased Abby by spreading the blanket across her abdomen, which broke the atmosphere of nostalgia. They chatted for a moment about a couple of things in the box, but the only thing that had captured Holtz's attention the most was the teddy bear and blanket. Holtzmann wasn't worried too much about the rest. School records and certificates for science fairs weren't something she really needed to have. And she knew her father would enjoy them more. She had everything she wanted. ----- Abby was stealthily working on a second cup of coffee while Holtzmann and her dad were talking about his brother and family. She had to admit, she was halfway tuning them out. They lived in Ottawa and Abby had only met them once. Holtz had admitted they didn't often meet up because her Uncle James worked a lot. She had only gotten to see him herself about four or five times over her life. Six if she counted their wedding, but they didn't have much time to mingle with their guests, and Holtz had only managed to get in a hug from her uncle that day. She did, however, hear Dean mention to Holtzmann that her old elementary school had been shut down for safety concerns and she watched the blonde's face light up like a Christmas tree.

"Abs..."

"Yeah?"

Holtz's grin went even wider as she grabbed her hand.

"We're going hunting." <– Prev | Next –>

[badassbaker]

Private Security: Chapter 4

We get a ‘not so nice’ Matthias in this chapter, but a very sassy Linnea…

Linnea’s POV

I awoke with the sun. Being a third-year grad student, I was used to not getting much sleep. Despite that, I could not remember the last time I had such a restful night. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I drifted off…dreaming of stormy blue eyes all night long.

I stretched and sat up in bed. The clock said 6:00. I gave McGregor a morning pat and headed downstairs for my requisite caffeine fix. With the weather beginning to warm up, I chose light pajamas for last night. Just soft shorts and an old, worn tank. Simple, comfortable, and practical. Just like me.

Knowing there may be guards in or around the house, I chose to slip on a bra before heading down to the kitchen. I also fluffed up my hair and swiped on some clear lip balm. It never hurt to look cute, just in case I ran into…anyone.

It felt so good to be in my own home. My dad and I had lived here my whole life. Like I said before, it wasn’t a mansion, but it was hardly what I’d call a ‘fixer-upper’.

The outside was painted a moss green color and had minimal, but really lovely landscaping with bushes and flowers scattered throughout the front beds. My dad had no interest in caring for a large garden due to his busy schedule; and with me being away at school for the better part of the last 7 years, he knew that simple was best. We had neighbors, but none were very close. The yard surrounding the house was large and bordered by the hedges that I had very unsuccessfully tried to sneak through last night.

It had 4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, and a grand space comprised of the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The interior was what design magazines referred to as ‘rustic’ or sometimes ‘traditional’. Lots of wood, lots of warm colors, and a lot of natural light.  Yes, it was big, but it was simple for the most part. The kitchen, however, was a work of art; and I adored it. Both my father and I loved to cook, so more often than not, we found ourselves perched on the counters laughing and sharing stories while one of us prepared something. I think all of my best memories in the house happened in that kitchen.

I had traveled all over the world and had seen how many other people lived. I knew that what we had was considered great luxury to most, and I never took it for granted. Never. My dad always insisted that I have a job. From the age of 16 on, I worked while attending school. While the children of other diplomats hung by the hotel pool or went to parties when we traveled, I went on volunteer excursions. I was never told to ‘get out and see the world’. I wanted to. When my father told me that my mother would have been proud, it made my heart swell.

As I got the coffee started, I looked out the back window towards the guest house. It was originally going to be a pool house, but my father and I had decided that a pool really wasn’t something either of us wanted.

Instead, it became a small apartment that my grandparents would stay in whenever they visited from Sweden. It was small, but comfortable enough. It had been painted to match the house and decorated lovingly.

I knew it was where he was staying.

As if on cue, I spotted him leaning against one of trees with a cigarette in hand.

  At first glance, I’d say that he looked almost relaxed if he hadn’t been methodically looking around every few moments. Force of habit, I assumed.

He was out of his suit; and if I hadn’t seen him last night, I’m not sure that I’d even know he was the same person.

He was barefoot and wearing blue jeans. A green t-shirt stretched deliciously across his broad back and a strange tingle shot across my skin at the sight. I could see ink peeking out from the sleeves of the shirt and I instantly found myself wanting a closer look.

Maybe he’d like some coffee?

__________________________

Before I’d gone to bed, my father and I had discussed safety. As long as I was within sight of one of the posted guards or one of the security cameras, I was free to move about the property as I wished. If I wanted to leave, someone had to accompany me. Knowing what was going on and how much he worried, I accepted the terms with no argument. I knew that coming here had been a gamble, and I really didn’t want to be sent away again.

I poured a cup and added just a touch of cream to it before opening the large kitchen doors that led out to the yard. I padded down the steps barefoot and made my way towards the small guest house. I didn’t see Matthias, so I assumed that he had gone in.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.

A moment later, I could a hear a muffled “Just a moment!” from inside. 

The door opened; and there he was. All formidable thick muscles and tattoos.

I lost my train of thought momentarily, but the warm mug of coffee in my hand brought me back to present.

“Um, hi. I mean, good morning. I brought you some coffee.”

I extended the mug towards him and he looked down briefly before accepting.

“Thank you, Linnea,” he said placidly. “You have a nice morning.”

At this, he made to close the door and go back into the house. I reached out to stop him by putting a hand on his forearm. His skin was warm and the fine hairs scratched softly at my palm.

“Matthias, wait! I just wanted to take a moment to say that I’m sorry about last night. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble. I’m really looking forward to us being friends.”

I gave him a smile, but did not receive one in return. Instead, his free hand removed mine from his arm.

“Oh. You are, are you?” He said condescendingly. “Is that how you like to make friends? You show up someplace whenever you please and make things harder for everyone? You put people you love and yourself in danger? Not the best way to make friends, if you ask me.”

He set the coffee cup down on the small table next to the door and crossed his large arms across his chest, as if to say, ‘Well, what do you have to say about that?’

Little did he know, I had a lot to say about that.

“First of all, I didn’t show up ‘someplace’. This is my home. Yes, you are correct. I DID show up last night unannounced. But you know what? I did that because the most important person in my world has been going through hell for the last year and I have been unable to do anything to help him. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had to stand by and watch someone that you love more than your own life struggle; but if you haven’t, let me tell you that it is heartbreaking. When you truly love someone, it is a million times harder to witness their pain than it is to feel pain yourself. Think about the people in your life who you care for. Wouldn’t you do anything for them? Whether he knows it or not, my dad needed me. And now I’m here for him. I’m sure you are great at what you do and I will never be able to thank you for keeping my father safe all these months. You must think you have it all figured out, but that doesn’t give you any right to treat me like shit when I’ve done nothing to you. I know you have your dossiers, but if you think you know me because you read a fucking file about my life, you are sorely mistaken.”

I could feel myself shaking as I finished my tirade, but I was not going to stand there like a child and let a stranger belittle me for something that he knew nothing about.

His look was unreadable. I’m not sure if many people spoke to him like I just had. Hell, from his reaction…I wasn’t sure if many people spoke to him at all.

“I’m sorry for coming here. Have a good morning.”

I turned quickly on my heels and strode back towards the house with my head held high.

He didn’t say a word. He just let me go.

@virgosapphire79, @thihaf, @dauntlessmetalmom, @iammarylastar, @son-of-a-bbitch, @lostinvoyage, @vaisabu, @thehound-and-thebird, @dean-67-impala, @bookwarm85, @alexandrajackson93, @darebearxo, @mimigemrose, @ashtotes, @harleyqueen7, @anditcametopass, @hows-my-hair, @nickysurfer28, @queensoybean, @emmysrandomthoughts, @dream-on-dina, @scissor-win-ski, @to-hold-me-and-to-hide-me, @misshyen, @inkinterrupted, @james-k-delaney, @synnocence, @niktwosixteen, @feminamortem, @b-j-d, @pathybo, @adudewritingpoetry, @danleto97

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 12x13 “Family Feud”

contains personal chit-chat, a selfie, and a photo of one of our iridescent chickens, because i kept getting distracted (potentially because this episode wasn’t particularly enthralling)

also, flawed time travel logic

05:18pm

i saw a promo on instagram but the sound wasn’t working, so apart from knowing crowley and rowena are in this, and shout a lot, i got no clue what’s going on. but this one’s written by the deadly duo sooooooooooo :/

also a new director named p.j. pesce. hi there, please kindly make the deadly duo’s script less offensive with good directing, thank you

-

05:20

man i hope cas is in this. but in a nice uplifting way not a bullshit frustrating no homo way

/sips tea

-

05:24

i’m so unaffected by these scare tactics

idk if it’s because i’ve watched twelve seasons of this show but i kind of zone out when the violins start shrieking

-

05:36

(people just arrived at the house, social!Elmie emerged for 2 minutes, i cleaned the bathroom, changed the towels, and greeted everyone and NOW I’M BACK AND EVEN MORE EXHAUSTED)

-

05:39

(and then i took two (NOW THREE) phone calls from my dad going like “i’m in the store and they don’t have the pasta that’s the only kind of pasta you eat, but they have this other pasta that has a thing in it you’re allergic to listed in the ingredients, do you want that?”

me: *emphatic NO*

I HATE BEING THE ONLY ONE HOME)

(AND I HAVE TO WASH MY HANDS EVERY TIME I ANSWER THE PHONE SO I’M KIND OF DIZZY FROM GETTING UP NOW)

(I PAINTED A WHOLE ROOM YESTERDAY I JUST WANT TO SIT AND DO NOTHING)

-

05:44

anyway what was i saying

oh yeah, this scene feels weirdly voyeuristic, lady getting ready for bed

“my nightly routine!! you’ll never guess what kills me”

-

05:46

a ghost’s arms pop up out of the mattress and throttle the lady to death

okay firstly, i laughed

secondly, wow that was actually kind of cool

thirdly DUDE ALL FOUR OF YOUR LIMBS WERE IN THE BED, THAT’S MEANT TO PROTECT YOU 

fourthly, i heard something like this happened in the hotel version of american horror story?? i don’t watch it but i heard about something living inside a mattress

fifthly ACCURATE PHOTO FRAME BLOOD SPLATTER 15 points for the mattress ghost

-

05:49

end of a phone call to cas. welp i’m guessing that’s all we’ll hear from him, with no other mentions

/sigh

LET’S IMAGINE THE REST OF THAT CALL WAS “I MISS YOU” AND “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, AND I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU GET BACK, CAS. BUY MILK”

-

05:54

god after so many seasons fuelled completely by the winchesters’ extended family lying to each other i’m so not in the mood for more of the same

mary, your choices make sense but they sicken me

-

05:55

mary: hey, i love you

BUT DID DEAN SAY IT BACK

-

05:58

oh yeah of course it takes several months before crowley explains to lucifer how he’s back in his old vessel

pfff

-

05:59

crowley: “we found your discarded vessel a few years ago”

but... didn’t lucifer still have the same vessel with glowing red eyes when rowena raised him from the cage last year

-

06:00

“improved it”

and by that you mean gave it a 90s teen haircut and gel and highlights

-

06:02

lucifer is hardcore queercoding himself right now

(or is that just how mark pellegrino talks? i’m not sure pls forgive. it’s cute, and tbh i love it deep down, but it’s potentially problematic in the grand scheme of audiences who associate obvious/outward queerness with badness)

-

06:05

these suncatcher rainbows tho

mmmm purple was a good decision

definitely suits me

hi reflection of plants from outside on my glasses

THIS ROOM IS PLEASANT NOW I’M SO HAPPY

it was a gross green/yellow/beige colour before. i intend to paint every room in the entire house eventually because it’s all that icky colour and i hate it

-

06:13

well after so many distractions, at least i can say this episode isn’t holding my attention very well

-

06:16

if the spooky suddenly-cold ghost thing happened to me i’d just start talking and introducing myself to the ghost

idk if it would work but clearly running away, or staring at things in bewilderment and then screaming does nothing for anyone

-

06:19

you know what, i think i realised why this isn’t holding my attention. i’ve had to repeat the scene where the lady tells sam and dean some information twice, and they’re talking about stuff that seems kind of abstract. i think the script is probably a little more “tell” rather than “show” which doesn’t really work for this particular kind of visual storytelling at all. they’re talking a lot, but showing mostly faces and unknown people rather than objects and actions, and all the new characters have no obvious personality besides their faces and their standard responses to standard questions

-

06:23

giant ship in the background

i know it’s a shipping museum but FANDOM SYMBOLISM

guess this one was for the wincest people

-

06:24

sam: “adhd spirits”

unsure if that was offensive or an accurate descriptor

-

06:25

diner lady: “when are you due?”

kelly: (clearly unhappy) i have no idea

diner lady: well, take it from me. before kids, your life is yours. once they show up, life as you know it is over

WOW THAT’S NOT THE CORRECT RESPONSE TO KELLY’S EXPRESSION OR TONE OF VOICE

oh right, an angel. that makes sense. autistic with a twisted sense of humour.

-

06:29

okay when does dean ever talk to himself (except if he’s talking to his car or to food??)

and NO THE AZTECS’ PRACTICES WERE FUCKED UP. DEAN TAKE A HISTORY LESSON

also .....i know this is a running theme recently, but why the hell is dean so clumsy with valuable artefacts

imagine him fumbling with a gun and dropping bullets???? no!!! maybe a model ship, they’re tricky things to handle and that was symbolic. but WHY A KNIFE

-

06:36

lucifer: “oh my dad”

even after so long and such bad rapey writing from these exact writers, i still love lucifer

his evil is sort of an endearing evil maybe

-

06:38

“get a library card”

and i love rowena

HEY WHAT IF SAM HAS A COLLECTION OF LIBRARY CARDS FROM ALL OVER THE USA 

WHAT IF HE ACTIVELY COLLECTS THEM

IN THE NAME OF RESEARCH

if dean has space to lug around 15 suits and 10 coats and 30 ties and 300 plaid shirts, sam has space for 1500 library cards

-

06:39

ugh god what is with people demanding shit from rowena and making her do things against her will

sam i thought you’d go easy on her since she legit saved dean’s life 2 weeks ago

WHY IS IT ALL SO TOXIC

-

06:44

AAAH MY MOTHER JUST SHOWED ME A VIDEO from this morning in our chicken coop

WE HAVE ~15 BABY CHICKS THEY’RE SO FLUFFY AND CONFUSED 

AAAAH

i’mma go see them very soon, maybe when the sun’s down because i’mma get sunburn otherwise, it’s delightfully sunny right now

-

06:47

why do i feel like this black guy is gonna die

-

06:48

WELP

there we go

/siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

-

06:49

“come with me if you wanna live”

i’m guessing this is ramiel’s sister

obviously she’s gonna die eventually ‘cause she’s a demon and i don’t know how i feel about that ‘cause i kinda like her

-

06:51

right now i’m INTO IT and this always happens at the halftime mark of a deadly duo episode. one of these writers is a good ‘un

-

06:54

rowena is so fucking pretty ughhghthggh <3

-

06:59

gavin: “my fiona’s a ghost?!”

see NOW i’m digging this episode and the storyline and the script and the characters

-

07:00

sun’s gone down, i’mma go see these baby chickens before it gets dark

-

07:20

all the chicks were hiding under their mothers, so no sightings today

but LOOK AT THIS FREAKING IRIDESCENT CHICKEN

-

07:37

thAT TWISTY-CAMERA GHOST MIST 

COOL

-

07:42

i see dean and sam still have the angel feathers

where do these angel feathers come from

where did the MoL get these feathers

HOW DO YOU MAKE WINGS CORPOREAL

WHEN WILL CAS SHOW US HIS WINGS

-

07:43

what i want to know is how they get the blood off all the walls once they’ve done all these spells

-

07:44

dean to sam: “beam him up, scotty”

if sam’s scotty then dean’s kirk and cas is spock

this works a little too well

-

07:45

so

a love story again

why do i feel like this is kind of about dean

(because it’s always about dean)

and he’s the one in focus in this shot

kind of like “look what the dude did for the person he loved!!!” sort of thing

-

07:47

dean: “so the victims at the school are all back to work, it’s like nothing ever happened”

okay but if nothing happened and none of them died, then how can they go BACK to work? and if they’d been at work all along, how would dean know, since that wouldn’t make news stories??? and if dean and sam remember everything, wouldn’t the people at the school remember too? if all of fiona’s actions were erased (including deaths), then dean and sam wouldn’t have been in town to investigate, and gavin wouldn’t have shown up, rendering this entire plotline non-existent

THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE

YOUR TIME TRAVEL LOGIC IS FLAWED

-

07:54

YAY MARY COMES CLEAN AND THIS DOESN’T TURN INTO A MASSIVE YOU-LIED-TO-ME ARC

-

07:55

mary: Do Not Give Me The Face

dean: What Face.

mary: You Know The Face

dean: There’s No Face

mary: That’s The Face

yeah sounds about right

cas has that one categorised as “Oh No Dean Thinks I Fucked Up, Time To Do Puppy Eyes”

-

07:58

sam: “broken ribs and burnt feet” and [pause for everyone to say “brain rape” in their heads] “we don’t trust the brits”

-

08:02pm

okay well

mostly that was meh

some of it was okay

the time travel part was all mangled and self-erasing according to its own rules so i don’t know what to say about that

i dunno. it was just.. dull, overall

but that love story though. i’m not sure how or why yet, but it seemed to affect dean

maybe we’re just back to the “dean loves love” thing

i’d give this a 7/10 maybe. i wanna go 6/10 but that seems harsh given it wasn’t as dramatically offensive as usual, it was just a lil wonky. more tying up of loose plot ends, that’s good. bechdel test pass!! two surviving asian ladies, one of whom has a name. cool. several dead women and a black guy though. :/

also, regarding the angels that went poof! when daigon stabbed them. they went poof! like ramiel did when stabbed with his own magic spear. except he was a demon. when angels are stabbed by that it kills them slowly, poisoned like cas was. i’m guessing daigon has her own magic weapons that makes demons go poof! then

bluhbluhlbuhbluh okay that’s all bye

[mittensmorgul]

6.10: The things we do out of personal greed and grief in the name of family...

mittensmorgul: 6.10... I also feel like we've recently discussed this one to death... elizabethrobertajones: and yet Mary still has no idea baout Samuel :P mittensmorgul: I know... I REALLY need Dean to tell her. I think if anything is gonna convey the horror of what she's done to her, it'll be knowing what Samuel did in s6 all in the name of bringing her back... He was willing to murder her children to bring her back. Because in a metaphorical way, even if she doesn't get it on this level, that's sort of what she's been doing too... not "murdering" Sam and Dean, but sacrificing the people they actually are in the name of metaphorically resurrecting the little boys she lost.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean:

They get it. They really do. But it’s just not real.

And that’s the biggest parallel between s6 and s12 here, but there are others:

Crowley torturing himself, or at least the Alpha Shapeshifter who’s taken his form. But he’s at least a few steps ahead. He’s done some research, but he’s not quite ten steps ahead, because he ends up killing the alpha anyway without getting the info he wanted on Purgatory.

Heck, I forgot there was a rugaru in this episode. Sam and Dean have captured one alive and brought it in for questioning by Crowley’s demons.

And here’s one place where Sam’s lack of human empathy actually HELPS instead of hurts them:

SAM: Look at her, Dean. She’s furious. If she could kill you, she’d’ve done it by now. She’s running. MEG: Am I? SAM: Judging by the level of flop sweat on all of you, yeah. Which means you’re running from Crowley. Which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he’s the big man on campus. MEG: How would you know? SAM: It’s what I’d do. [to Dean] She can’t kill us. She needs us to get her to Crowley so she can stick that knife in his neck. It’s him or her. DEAN: Well, I hope you both lose. But good luck.

Sam calls on Cas, luring him in with the lie that they have another Heavenly Weapon, and then threatens and guilts Cas into helping him...

They all break into Samuel’s office to hunt down Crowley’s location, pleading with Samuel to help them, because they’re working on getting Sam’s soul back. HIS GRANDSON’S SOUL. But Samuel refuses, explaining that he can’t betray Crowley because he’s been promised that Mary will be returned to him in exchange for working for Crowley.

DEAN: I’m saying, stop trying. It’s gonna go nowhere good. Samuel, I know we’ve had our differences, but I’m your grandson and I’m telling you that this is wrong for so many reasons. SAMUEL: You hypocrite! DEAN: I’m asking you to learn from our mistakes! Doing this, this is how the bad guy gets us every time. It’s our Achilles' heel. Apparently it runs in the family. We will figure something else out. Okay? SAMUEL: I’m sorry Dean, but I – DEAN: Fine. Bring her back. But what are you gonna tell her? You gonna tell her you made a deal with a demon? That you wouldn’t help out her sons?

(and by the end of the episode, after Samuel actively tries to KILL Mary’s sons by feeding them to a ghoul, that really is the end of the line for whatever family loyalty they ever could’ve felt toward Samuel)

(I feel like we’ve discussed the Cas Watching Porn scene from here to the ends of the earth, so...)

Meanwhile Samuel shows up with the location of Crowley’s monster prison, but it turns out to be a trap...

Cas expresses doubts to Dean about what sort of state Sam’s soul might be in if they try to retrieve it now. It sounds horrifying, but Sam unfortunately overhears him...

Cas is such a Debbie Downer here... just more of the regrettable things required of him while he’s at war.

Inside the monster prison, Dean sees the djinn waitress from 6.01, and she’s in chains and begging for his help. Dean’s considering helping her when suddenly the prison guards shows up, aka Hellhounds.

Meg kisses Cas just to pickpocket his angel blade, and Dean looks on perplexed when Cas kisses her back... (again, talked this to death and back at least twice now)

*Samuel blasts Cas away with a weirdo angel banishing sigil*

The fact this sigil is DIFFERENT than any other we’ve ever seen makes me wonder if its effects were different, as well. Because we don’t know it yet, but Crowley and Cas were already working together at this point...

But here we have the BIG “What is Family” talk between Samuel and Dean”

SAMUEL: I just want you to understand. DEAN: Oh, I understand… that you’re a liar. You talk about putting blood first, which is funny ’cause you sound just like my dad. The difference is, he actually did. SAMUEL: I am putting blood first. DEAN: Oh, gimme a break! SAMUEL: Mary’s my blood! My daughter! Don’t come at me like I sold you out, Dean. You sold out your own mother. It was her or Sam, and you chose Sam, plain and simple. DEAN: Oh, that is such crap! You wanna know what really happened? You chose a demon over your own grandsons! SAMUEL: See it how you want. I don’t even know what Sam is. And you want me to protect him? And you? You’re a stranger. No, really, tell me: what exactly are you supposed to be to me? DEAN: I’ll tell you who I am. I’m the guy you never wanna see again. ’Cause I’ll make it out of here, trust me. And the next time you see me, I’ll be there to kill you.

RIGHT HERE we get a critical piece of information, or MISinformation, as it were:   You sold out your own mother. It was her or Sam, and you chose Sam, plain and simple.

Samuel actually believes this is the truth. That it wasn’t MARY’s deal with Azazel (while he was wearing Samuel, even!) that started everything in motion. When the hell did Dean ever have a choice in any of this? Mary chose to sell out everything else to save John back in 1973. Including SAMUEL.

But that was the lie Samuel chose to believe, because it would result in him getting what he wanted. Mary, alive at any cost.

Meanwhile Sam uses his soullessness and ruthlessness to enact another plan while Dean’s dragged off to become ghoul chow... Dean fights off two ghouls without a weapon until Sam comes in to finish them both off. They trap Crowley...

CROWLEY: I said ‘can’t’. I meant ‘can’t’, you mop-headed lumberjack. I was lucky to get this much of you out. Going back in there for the sloppy bits? No way. I’m good, but those two in there? Forget it. SAM: How do I know you’re not lying? CROWLEY: You don’t. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m telling you. Sam, why do you want the thing back? Satan’s got one juicy source of entertainment in there. I’d swallow a rag off a bathhouse floor before I took that soul. Unless you want to be a drooling mess.

And because of this, I’ve always suspected that Crowley DID help Cas retrieve Sam from the Cage after 5.22. That it wasn’t JUST Cas on his own.

And obviously we know that when Cas turns up with Crowley’s bones, they aren’t really Crowley’s bones, but Crowley puts on a show of burning himself up anyway...

It may not have stopped everything ELSE going on behind the scenes between Cas and Crowley and their insane plan to crack Purgatory for power, but it did free Sam and Dean from working for Crowley. Obviously they were getting too close, and could potentially have REALLY killed Crowley, which would in turn have borked Cas’s chances of beating Raphael.

Basically things have just reached Complete And Utter Clusterfuck levels for Cas here. If he hadn’t still been trying to “protect” Sam and Dean from being dragged into the war (or if he hadn’t known that Dean would’ve inevitably tried to talk him out of going through with his insane plan), this is where Cas could’ve chosen to come clean with them.

But he didn’t. Because he was still sure he was doing the right thing.

Like he’s sure he’s doing the right thing in going back to Heaven to gather information to help in the hunt for the nephilim... Just, in s12 he’s approaching this “problem” from an entirely different place. In s6 he felt responsible to HEAVEN, and in s12, he feels responsible to the WINCHESTERS.

It might look similar on the surface, but peel back the surface-level trappings, and EVERYTHING is entirely different.

I keep reading theories that we’re going to be due for another 6.20 scene... but CAS IS NOT IN THAT PLACE ANYMORE. And he hasn’t been for AGES. That scene was predicated on the fact he’d been HIDING EVERYTHING from Dean all season long, that he’d been deceiving Dean about his mission, about his involvement in this plan with Crowley, that he’d been behind stirring up the monsters and capturing the alphas, and looking for purgatory.

BUT CAS IS NOT LYING TO THEM ABOUT ANYTHING now in s12. Dean’s not mad at him, he’s WORRIED about him. Cas isn’t loyal to heaven, he’s accepted his place in the Winchester family.

Why would there be another 6.20 scene FOR CAS?

I can think of at least three characters who’d merit being in that spot in s12, but it’s definitely not Cas...

CASTIEL: Crowley was right. It’s not going well for me upstairs. DEAN: If there’s anything we can do – CASTIEL: There isn’t. I wish circumstances were different. Much of the time I’d rather be here. DEAN: Look, Cas, we know you got a steaming pile on your plate. There’s no need for apologies. We’re your friends.

Oh, Cas. Circumstances are what you make of them. You just don’t want to put Dean in that position to help you. You won’t put him in danger...

But Sam’s soul? He’s decided he doesn’t even want it back now. Dean has decided otherwise.

DEAN: You don’t even know what you’re saying. SAM: No, I’m saying something you don’t like. You obviously care, a lot. But I think maybe I’m better off without it. DEAN: You’re wrong. You don’t know how wrong you are.

Yeah, it was painful and terrible and traumatic, but dammit Sam, you were wrong. Without your soul, you were ~wrong~ and /////WRONG/////. Just like nine kinds of all wrong.