Title: Trust
Characters: Dean, John
Rating: G, gen
Summary: Coda to Something Wicked, after the Shtriga attack to Sam. Wee!chester.

"Hey, Dean?"

Without averting his eyes from the TV, Dean mumbles, "Yeah, Dad?" and automatically catches the jacket that his father tosses at him. His eyes widen in surprise.

"Whoa! What's up, Dad?"

"Get out of here."

Dean can't believe what he's hearing.

"What? Why?" The nine-year-old gapes.

"Go outside and get some air. How long you been cooped up inside? Three? Four days?"

Dean stares at his father.

"But why, Dad? You don't want me here?"

"Huh?" John frowns. "Don't want you -- No! That's not what I mean. I just want you to ... Look, Dean, you must be tired of being locked inside, watching out for Sam. Go out and have fun for a bit. Play ding-dong maybe?"

The last time he played ding-dong Sam nearly died.

"I - I don't wanna play ding-dong," Dean stammers, his eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "I don't like playing it. You can't make me!" He backs up until his back connects to the wall.

"Dean, what…?"

"I'm not tired and I'm not bored. I can watch out for Sammy. I can, Dad, you have to trust me!"

"I always trust you, Dean."

"No, you don't. At least, n-not anymore. But you can, Dad. Believe me. Please."

His voice cracking, Dean crumples by the wall. He seems unable to look at his father, staring fixedly at his feet.

John is shocked, to say the least. He has not been expecting this when he asked his son to go out and play. He takes in the sight of his son, dejection all over Dean's face. He goes to him, sitting down on his haunches before Dean.

"Dean, what is it?" He asks gently. "What's the matter? I don't trust you? I can't trust you? Tell me, Dean."

Dean sighs and looks up at his father, uncertainty written all over his face.

"I'm sorry I went out the other night, Daddy," his voice is small.

John frowns. "What night?"

"That night. The Shtriga…"

John sags before his son, speechless. Deans steals a glance at him but immediately looks away, chewing his lower lip nervously.

Seconds pass before John finally speaks up, weighing his words carefully.

"You said sorry before, Dean, and did I forgive you?"

"You – you did."

"Did I trust you again with Sam afterwards?"

Dean has just spent four days with his little brother, without their father around. Dean looks up hesitantly at his father, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You did," he says shyly.

"So, what makes you think I can ever think less of you?"

Dean licks his lips, eyelashes fluttering before his eyes look up directly at John.

"I thought… I thought…"

"Oh, Dean. I was just asking you to go out and play."

Dean blushes.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

John nods.

"Good. Now get out of here. Oh, and Dean?" The kid is already scrambling to his feet.

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to get some chips, okay? You finished the last pack."

Dean only nods and his smile lights up his whole face.

fin