Part 53 – a month later…
(October 28, 2010)
Liz set down the grocery bag and glared. "Could you help me?" Dean lifted his head from where he'd settled in front of the TV with a beer. "Dean, come on."
"Do you know how many carburetors I took apart today?"
"Do you know how many of your son's internal organs I made today?"
"Okay. You win." Dean groaned as he rose to fetch the remainder of the bags from the car.
"Why do I have to twist your arm to get you to help me?" She put away all the perishables first.
"You're the one who yelled at me for treating you like glass."
"I'm carrying your child, front and center," she pointed to her enormous belly, "aided only by my uterus and some skin; show some appreciation."
"When I try, you put me off."
"Sex is not appreciation."
"I wouldn't know because I'm not getting any."
"I'm serious, Dean. All you do anymore is watch TV."
"Hey… I work damn hard, harder than I have in my whole life… I have to wind down."
"Fine." Liz dropped the last of the cans into the cabinet. She rubbed at her lower back. "You get to drink to unwind… I just get to sit." She winced as her belly tightened. Suddenly, he was right behind her, guiding her to a chair. He didn't say anything after that… just finished putting away the groceries. The silence was tight as they waited for a recurrence of the cramp. Liz focused on breathing deep. When she felt she was okay, she lifted a swollen hand, which Dean took and guided her to the bed, ready with her pillows to rest.
"Maybe you shouldn't work anymore." He dropped back onto his chair, eyes focused on the TV, beer clenched in his hand.
"Three months to go." She breathed out. "So far, so good."
Dean nodded, his eyes bare slits as he listened to her breathing even out. Setting down his beer, he escaped out the door and down the street to the bar. Slipping into a spot near the pool table, he waited until an unfamiliar hunter called him out for a game. The game was quick. Dean lost. He ordered another beer, then lost again. He ordered a third and then cleaned up. That resulted in being thrown against a wall and a pool cue broken across his back.
Focusing, Dean gave as good as he got until he felt nothing but the burn in his arms and legs. He managed to avoid the knife pulled on him, managed to knock down the gun. Rolling with all punches thrown, Dean made sure the other guy was going to look worse for wear. He didn't know when exactly Sam joined the fight but it was definitely Sam who put an end to it.
Sam shoved his brother out the door and shoved harder when Dean grabbed a beer on his way out. Marty picked up the other hunter and gave Sam a look. Sam only nodded before heading out to find his brother. The brothers came to a stop in front of the hotel where Dean leaned against a pike and stared up at the night sky. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"
"Not really."
"You could have gotten yourself killed over a game of pool." Sam ran a hand through his hair and looked to his older brother. The beard hid a lot but not the eyes. "Dean."
Dean pulled on his beer as his muscles cooled from their unexpected workout. "It's just… I'm a Hunter. I kill things… but look at Liz. She's got a life inside her… and I helped create that life. It's just surreal, you know?"
"I get that it's weird." What any of that had to do with what he'd just done to a fellow hunter was beyond him but Sam had to keep his brother talking.
"I want this to work, Sam. I do… but she's freaking me out and I don't know what to do."
"Well, what's going on?"
"She gets mad at me for the little stuff and then I panic cause she's not supposed to get mad but when I… back off, she gets pissed." Dean shook his head. "She's waiting for me to say something that I can't say. I can't say that I'll stay but I can't stay and be that guy… and I can't…"
"I can see that you're unhappy about it. I can tell that you're head over heels for Liz but the thing about women is that they like to hear it."
"I don't do all that mushy crap."
"If you want to keep her, you'll learn."
"Keep her…" Dean repeated. "I can't say it, Sam. Everything that I love gets taken away from me… I can't let her get taken away."
"Well, I'm still here and Liz is still here and… we got a bunch of people rooting for us… so… no giving up."
The following month…
(November 25, 2010)
Dean cursed as the heat of the pan seeped through the pot holders. He only barely got the damned thing on the table before he had to let go. Liz stared at him. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"Check the pies in the other oven." She instructed.
He pulled open the door and backed up as a wave of heat hit his face. "What am I checking?"
"To see if they're done." Liz stretched but she couldn't see from her seat.
"I got this." Sam announced as he walked into the room with two large sacks in his arms. He took the potholders from Dean and pulled the rack out. "Crusts are golden brown but the middles are a little jiggly."
"Five more minutes?" Liz asked.
"Ten?" Sam slid the rack back into the oven. He grabbed a pan and began loading rolls into it for a quick warm up in the oven. "You gonna carve that bird or stare at it?"
"What?" Dean's head snapped up.
"The turkey, Dean. You need to carve it up so that everyone can just serve themselves." Liz explained. "You okay? I know I didn't sleep but…"
"I'm good." Dean selected his knife carefully.
"Sam, can you get the casseroles out onto the bar?" Liz asked, wincing at a twinge in her back. "I feel like a whale."
"Nonsense." Sam smiled at her. "Caved to the maternity wear?"
"Yeah, there's just no more fighting it. Muumuus until he's born." Liz rubbed her belly, then regretted it as the baby decided nap time was over and it was time to play. "I may have internal injuries from him kicking all the time."
"I'm here!" Betty Lou rushed in with a foil covered Pyrex dish in each hand. "Kyle's got the yams." She grabbed utensils and tossed them onto a foil covered dish, then ran out to the bar where the food was accumulating quickly.
Dean filled the platter with slices of turkey meat and just when he thought his kitchen duties were done, he was given the task of washing grapes and pulling them off their stems. He had a laugh listening to Liz instruct Sam on how to properly drain various fruits from their cans. "I'm married to upper-management."
"I heard that." Liz tossed over her shoulder as she stole a few marshmallows from the bag before instructing Sam to throw those into the bowl as well.
"Dude, you okay?" Sam frowned at his older brother. He knew that Dean would shrug him off but he looked bad.
"Didn't sleep." Dean picked up the towel full of grapes and handed them over. Then he picked up the plate of turkey. "Let's get this thing started."
--
Sam cornered his brother as he was getting dessert. "Hey man… what's going on?"
"Nothing."
"You look like crap."
"Didn't sleep."
"Why?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder to make sure Liz was occupied. "Look, Liz was sick all night. She doesn't want me to know about it but I know about it."
"Okay…"
"She's okay now but she was puking up her guts all night. I got up the first time and she made me go back to bed… like I was gonna sleep to her ralphing all night. She didn't want me to bother her, so I didn't."
"But she's okay."
"Yeah but we're both dog tired and I want to eat some pie. So, can it." Dean took his pie to Marty's table and took a long pull off his beer.
Sam frowned at his brother and carried his own pie to Liz's table. "You okay?"
"What?" Liz looked up from her plate, cranberry sauce smeared over everything.
"Dean says you were sick all night."
She only hesitated for a second before spearing a slice of turkey and making sure there was gravy on every inch of it. "I'm okay now."
"So… why is he pissed?"
"He's not mad."
"Why are you mad?"
"I'm not mad."
"Is this one of those married things?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Liz shook her head.
"You know… I know that I keep switching sides on this whole issue but normally, you guys are right on top of one another… normally, it creeps me out… today… you guys not doing that… creeps me out more."
"It's Thanksgiving. We're not gonna fight on Thanksgiving. It's… kind of our anniversary." Liz frowned and then scowled. "So now, I am mad. Thanks, Sam."
"Okay." Sam rose from the table and scratched at his neck while passing Dean. "You're in the doghouse." He coughed as he moved on.
"What'd I do?" Dean sat up and looked at Liz, who was stabbing her plate viciously. "What'd I do?"
"I know that look." Marty snorted. "Reserved for major fuck ups. Forgotten birthdays or falling in the toilet."
"I learned my lesson on the toilet thing…" Dean thought about it as he chewed on some pie crust. "What'd I forget?" He cursed under his breath. "I hate it when she does this. I'm not a mind reader."
--
Liz pulled her jacket tight and waddled her way down the road. Frost decorated the sides of the road but she kept her pace slow and steady. She hunched her shoulders and focused her gaze on the road when she heard the quicker, yet steady, steps of someone casually catching up to her. She stopped when he pulled even with her. "You're just going to follow me around forever?"
"Why are you mad? Did I not whip the potatoes for precisely the right amount of time or is it my lack of pie knowledge?"
"Shut up. It's not about potatoes or pie." She glared at him.
"Then what is it?"
"Do you know what today is?"
"Thanksgiving."
"No… do you know what Thanksgiving is?" She stared at him. "For us."
Dean took a minute and then realized where they were standing. They were about a mile from the spot where they had come together the year before… on Thanksgiving evening. One frickin' year. "I forgot. I'm lucky if I know what day of the week it is."
"Yeah, I didn't remember either." She admitted. "I… I don't know what to do. Okay? We're not… I don't know."
"Look, you've got some kind of road map in your head about where we're supposed to be headed and what the landscape should look like along the way. I don't know what any of that looks like or what it's supposed to be. I don't know how to be whatever it is that your brain tells you that I should be. I can only be who I am." Dean felt the anger rising to his face. "I'm so sick and tired of being shit on because… I don't know the fucking difference."
"I don't—"
"Let me talk! You're always complaining that I never talk so let me. I work in a car garage. I let morons treat me like shit. I keep my mouth shut about shit that I know will aggravate you. I'm standing still cause I said I would. None of this is me!" he spun away and gripped the guardrail. "I need more space to breathe. I'm not used to any of this. I wasn't made this way. To be the abused mechanic and the doting husband, daddy dearest… I'm just me. Respectable isn't me."
"Well, figure it out." Liz sniffed and began the walk back to the cottage.
TBC
