Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. I did ask for Dean for christmas but he never appeared under my tree. Maybe next year.
It's been four months and they have their Saturday routine down to a tee. Lisa teaches between ten and three leaving him to take Ben to baseball. He picks Ben up at twelve and they usually end up in the garage, tinkering under the hood of the Impala as he shows Ben how to change the headlight bulb and check the oil.
"Ben?" He's elbow-deep in dirty dishes and Ben is supposed to be getting ready for his baseball game. "Ten minutes, bud," he calls, stacking the last plate on the drying rack. He pulls the plug and leans his back against the counter as he fumbles behind himself for a towel to dry his hands on. He can hear Ben stomping around his room overhead and he follows the source of the noise as Ben moves into the hall and starts down the stairs. Ben's shirt is half tucked in and he's wearing only one shoe, dragging the other by the laces. "You got everything?" He asks as he goes to take the shoe from Ben, motioning for him to take a seat on the stairs and starting to work the laces loose. Ben nods, scrubbing a hand over his face as Dean ties his laces for him. "Let's hit the road then," he says and he heads towards the kitchen to get the keys for his truck.
He assumes that Ben is behind him until he hears "Dean?" followed by a strangled "one second," from the living room. He spins on his heels in time to see Ben retch and double over. Shit, he thinks as he hurries over to where Ben is hunched and breathing hard. He puts his hand on the back of Ben's neck and Ben slowly uncurls to look up at him. Dean can see the tears that are threatening to fall and hears gasps that are quickly turning into sobs. He kneels, brings his hand round to brush at Ben's bangs and cups his cheek, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. "It's okay, Ben," he says softly as he wipes a stray tear from Ben's cheek. "C'mon, dude. We'll get cleaned up and then we can hang out on the couch. Watch a few movies. Sound good?" He's got one hand on Ben's shoulder and the other on the small of his back, guiding him slowly into the hall. Ben sniffles and shrugs. Dean watches as Ben listlessly pushes himself up the stairs, waits until he's at the top before going to take care of the mess on the living room floor. Thank God for tiles, he thinks.
He's two-thirds of the way up the stairs when he hears the shower going off. Ben's uniform is on the floor of his room in a crumpled pile and he's tossing it in the hamper when Ben appears in the doorway. He's changed into a pair of sweats and an old AC/DC tee of Dean's that reaches his knees. His face is pale and he sways slightly as he looks up towards where Dean is standing. Dean wraps an arm around Ben's shoulders and doesn't remove it until he's getting Ben settled on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and instructions to "stay put".
The thermometer is hidden behind a half-empty bottle of Calpol and one of those plastic food containers, which is almost full to the brim with a selection of various pain meds. When he returns to the couch Ben has his face hidden, his shoulders hitching as he sobs quietly. "Ben?" He perches on the end of the couch next to the sobbing boy. "What's wrong, bud?" The answer is muffled by the blanket Ben is clutching to his face how a toddler holds a cherished teddy bear and Dean grasps his wrist. He pulls gently to reveal red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. This time, he hears Ben say "I want Mom," and his heart sinks.