3 Kids & A Shitty Dad

John's eyes narrowed, gaze concentrated on the skinny eleven year old who was currently wielding a shotgun and barring the man from entry into the bathroom of their cheap motel. The man rested a hand on his hip, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I swear, I'm not going to hit him. Put the gun down." He paused, almost horrified at himself for trying to mollify a child. John was given a petulant glare and he reached out a large hand to shove the shotgun away from where it was hovering halfway to aiming at his chest. He felt the cool steel beneath his fingertips for a moment and didn't give the kid another second to react, wrenching it back and crouching down to haul the boy up over one shoulder.

"Put me down!" Small fists pounded against his shoulder and John grunted whenever a kicking foot landed a painful shot to his ribs. "Put me down! Put me down! Dean! Deeeeannnn! Dean, he's got me!" The boy wailed in John's ear.

"Christ, Castiel! Could you scream any louder?" John snapped, marching away from the bathroom and towards one of the beds, where Sammy was perched nervously. Sam cuddled up between the two headboard pillows, his toddler fingers wringing a ratty blanket that he'd found God-knows-where. John placed the shotgun down on the nightstand, tossing Castiel onto the bed and wincing at the wail that escaped the boy.

"Run Dean! Save yourself!" Castiel yelled, scrambling to get off of the bed and releasing a gargled choke when John caught the back of his hoodie and threw him against the bed once more. John's brows furrowed and his face contorted into a scowl. He grabbed Castiel by the back of the head, shoving his face into the pillow next to Sammy's knee to try and muffle the kid's screaming.

The bathroom door creaked open and he heard the sound of little sneakers pounding against the cheap carpet.

"Dean." John called out, his voice stern and leaving no room for argument. Dean froze mid-step, a deer in the headlights. Castiel kicked and writhed and John raised a hand to smack the boy's bottom, instantly receiving a yelp before Castiel went still, heaving into the pillow.

He eased up on holding Castiel's face down, looking up at his eight year old son and watching Dean freeze in the midst of inching towards the door.

"Why. Dean. Does Castiel seem to think that I would want to kill my own son? Could you enlighten me?" John asked, his voice strained. Castiel squirmed and John moved his hand to grab the back of the boy's hoodie, bodily hauling him up, turning him, and forcing him to sit. Castiel squeaked when John pressed a warning hand to the top of his head, both of them watching Dean.

Dean shifted awkwardly for a moment, obviously unable to think of any excuses on the spot. He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and John grunted.

"Speak up, son."

"I didn't ... think... he'd take it iseriously/i." Dean mumbled, voice the tiniest bit louder. Castiel's cheeks puffed out, looking about ready to say something, but John shoved his head forward a little to silence the kid.

"Dean."

Dean glanced up, eyes bright and sheepish through the growing fringe of brown that tickled his forehead. "Yeah, Dad?"

"What. did. you. do." John grounded out. Whatever had occured, it had been enough for Dean to make some kind of offhanded comment about John's reaction. A comment which Castiel would, of course, take seriously - mostly because John doubted the kid had never understood the idea of sarcasm or exaggeration before joining their ragtag family.

"Dean is very inept at skateboarding." Castiel blurted out suddenly. Dean's eyes went wide, a look of betrayal crossing his face. John threw the words around in his head, about ready to ask for elaboration whenever Castiel filled in the blanks for him. "Your car is also very inept at preventing injury."

John's face went through a range of emotions, finally taking note of Dean's split lip and the way he was favoring his right leg. Dean cowered between the entry table and the front door, looking as if he'd rather the ground swallow him up than to deal with his father's temper.

Castiel released a pained noise and John realized he'd been gripping the boy's head a bit too tightly. He jerked his hand off and Castiel instantly flew off of the bed to stand protectively in front of Dean, his gawky limbs barely concealing the younger boy.

John sighed loudly, and with aggravation. He felt Sam come crawling up along the bed to wrap small fingers around John's hand. He looked down at his youngest son and rolled his eyes.

"Did you at least clean the blood off of the car?"

"Y-yes sir." Dean squeaked from behind Castiel. John grunted and lifted Sammy up into his arms.

"Can't do much else. Lets get some lunch."

Castiel's arms fell slowly from their guarded stance in front of Dean, his gaze wary. It reminded John that a year and a half with the Winchesters doesn't erase the previous ten years of foster care and things that John honestly doesn't want to think about.

John held his hand out to Castiel, smile weak. "Cheeseburgers sound good to you, Castiel?"

Castiel's face changed from hesitant to relieved before he nodded softly. "They sound very good, sir." He murmured, reaching out to take John's hand. (much to Dean's jealous protest.)

Yeah, they'd be alright.

Probably will have DeanCas in the future. Mostly drabbles to look forward to, all in this AU-verse. if I remember to write more. :I