Author's Note: My re-re-watch has reached season 6 so I'm having Braeden feels.


Authenticity


The sun sets, the heat of the day disappearing with it, so the boys light a fire. They sit on the ground, wrapped up in coats, hats and scarves, close enough to the fire to feel the heat. They make s'mores. Ben ends up with more marshmallows on his previously clean coat than in his mouth; Ian drops half a chocolate bar into the fire by mistake.

They packed a lot into their bags but with five hungry mouths to feed they run out of food quickly. Four of them sit and stare into the flames; Josh intermittently stabbing the earth next to his foot with a twig until it snaps.

"I'm bored," he says.

"Me too," agrees Ian. Harvey nods along. They all look to Ben—the camping was his idea—but he just shrugs. The wilderness, it turns out, is a bit... boring. They fall quiet. The fire spits out the chocolate wrapper.

"We could tell horror stories," Josh suggests eventually, to murmurs of agreement.

"Dean," Ben realises—there's that hint of awe in his voice that always surfaces when he's talking about Dean to his friends. "I bet he knows loads of really scary ones. Dean!"

Dean shifts his gaze from the faintly visible stars to the four boys huddled around the fire. Dean had hovered nearby when they were making s'mores, then wandered off. Now he's a few feet away, sitting on the only luxury Ben had permitted before their trek into the wilderness—a plastic garden chair. "What?"

"Can you come over here and tell us a scary story, please?" Ian asks, polite as ever.

Dean tilts his head, smirking a little. He drags his chair over so it's closer to the fire; sits down again. "I know lots of stories..." He trails off, thinking. Then he turns slightly so he's looking at Ben and his friends head-on, eyes intense. The boys hold their breath. "It was a dark and—"

Suddenly camp is illuminated by a rectangle of light. Ben squints at Mom's silhouette in the open doorway. "Are you coming in, Dean?" she asks. "Dinner's ready."

Dean's on his feet.

"Wait—what about our scary story?" asks Josh hurriedly.

"I can't miss dinner—it's the most important meal of the day," Dean says, walking away.

"That's breakfast," Harvey points out quietly.

Dean stops, turns so he's in profile, and he's got the same look on his face that Granddad has when he thinks about the war—just for a moment. Then he starts toward the house again

Ben stutters, "But—"

He turns slowly on his heels to address them all and he's different—sharper. "You wanted the authentic camping experience—you're experiencing it."

Ignoring further protests, Dean marches inside. As the door closes behind him the scent of roasted chicken wafts out; four tummies rumble over the crackling fire and the blare of a truck driving past the front of the house.

It's going to be a long night in the backyard.


THE END