Chapter 44 – Owning Up
"Dad, you have to tell Adam," Dean argued in a soft voice. They sat in the Milligan kitchen drinking coffee. Dean had the rest of the apple pie in front of him, not really caring if Logan had been planning on another piece.
Dad made a nasty, sour face which matched his feelings on the subject. "Dude, you know what your brother is like." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Both of them. If I tell Adam, he'll want to meet Sam. Sam is barely talking to you and I'm shocked he didn't hang up on me last night. No, it's not the right time."
"I don't know how much longer I can keep my mouth shut," Dean admitted, digging into the pie with a large spoon.
"You can keep it shut," Dad scoffed. "Don't hand me that."
Dean rolled his eyes as he chewed through a mouthful of delicious pie. "Don' wanna," he mumbled, his mouth still half full.
He expected a full lecture after that comment, but Dad sighed heavily, leaned forward on the table and thick emotions covered him with a heavy physical weight. Dean swallowed so he could speak clearly.
"Oh, please," he whispered. "This whole mess is your fault to begin with!"
Dad nodded sadly. "I know." The emotions deepened, regret and sorrow weighing heavily on both of them.
Dean grunted, digging out another spoonful of pie. "Come on, Dad." He sipped his coffee. "You promised to see Sam. Now I want you to promise you'll tell Adam. I feel like I'm lying to the kid by not telling him." He shoved the spoonful of pie in his mouth.
"So?" Dad's voice was hard and sharp, but all of his emotions were filled with self-pity.
"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it," Dean told his father, amazed that the man could be so stupid about this. It wasn't that big a deal. Dad had two sons before Adam. What was the problem in owning up to it?
Dad sighed and slumped in his chair. "Sometimes I think you were easier to deal with when you couldn't tell what I was feeling."
Dean rolled his eyes, scooping up more pie. "I could always tell what you were feeling."
Dad's eyes narrowed him on. "You weren't supposed to admit to that." However, the heavy feelings of self-pity faded. They weren't gone, but were more tolerable.
Dean grunted through his pie. "So?" he asked, throwing Dad's response back.
Both of Dad's hands tapped against the surface of the table. "I think I'd rather wait until after you finish eating," he said slowly. "You're not as irritable."
Dean opened his mouth, still full of pie, to protest when Logan walked in. "Oh, shut it. You know he's right." Logan helped himself to the coffee. He shot Dean a sharp look before taking a fork from the drawer.
When Dean swallowed to clear his mouth, Logan pulled out the chair next to him. His friend dug into the left-over pie in front of Dean while he sat.
"I'm not more irritable before I've eaten," Dean argued.
"The hell you're not," Dad snapped with a brief flare of aggravation. Dean opened his mouth to argue again but Dad's cold glare stopped him short. "I said you needed to finish eating."
"Listen ta your pop," Logan added, one cheek bulging with pie but his emotions just as even as always. "Eat."
Dean knocked Logan's fork away to scoop up more pie. "Gangin' up on me," he muttered.
"'bout time, too," Bobby announced from the doorway. "And there better be some coffee left."
"Serve ya right fer oversleepin'," Logan grunted. "An' find your own food. Dean and me ain't sharin'." He shoved Dean's hand out of the way to stab a large chunk of fruit.
As he prepared his coffee Bobby bumped up against the back of Logan's chair. About four times. The last time color flushed into Logan's face and irritability flooded the room. Dean chuckled loudly and patted the spot across from Logan for Bobby to sit down. With a lingering glare, Bobby sat in the chair with an audible thump.
"Eggs?" Dad asked Bobby conversationally. "Dean needs some protein too."
Bobby gave a sharp nod in agreement. "Lemme know if you need help."
Dad scoffed loudly. "I'm the cook in the family these days." He stood up, his chair making a scraping noise on the tile floor. "Haven't you heard?"
"Good. Don't burn mine," Bobby threw back. He gave Dean a hard look. "Your daddy's cookin' has improved, right?"
Dean grinned, scooping up more pie. "His potato thing is great."
Dad opened the fridge to rummage around inside. "I think Kate used all the potatoes in the mashed potatoes. Hey, I could make potato patties." He began to set out some leftover dishes as well as the carton of eggs.
Bobby grunted and nodded at Dad's back. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Dean chuckled again. "And I'm supposed to be the grumpy one?"
"Never said you were the only one," Dad chimed in without turning around. Bobby's blazing glare at Dad's back was awesome. Dean exchanged an amused look with Logan. This was the best Thanksgiving he'd ever had.
On the road back to the Institute, Dean tapped the fingers of his right hand on the steering wheel. So far he had managed to avoid his holiday assignment from Hank, but he couldn't put it off much longer. Salem was only a few hours away.
"Uh, Logan?" He shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable. "There's something I kind of need to tell you."
A good natured snort came from his right. "I already know about your date." He glanced over to see Logan making a sour face. "Still think you c'n do better'n that woman. She's annoyin'."
"Yeah, well, that's not it." There was that hot spot building between his shoulders again. Dean reached back with his right hand to rub at his neck and as far down his back as he could reach. "Remember when I told you about not being able to screen you out?"
"So?"
He could literally feel the tension in the car increase. "Well, uh, there's a reason for it." Rubbing his neck and upper back wasn't helping, that spot between his shoulderblades hurt like a sonuvabitch. Dean dropped his hand back to tapping nervously against the wheel.
Logan's glare had the intensity of a death-ray. "Just tell me it ain't got nuthin' to do with that librarian woman."
"What?" Dean glanced over, wondering where the hell that came from. "What are you talking about? How would a bond have anything to do with Libby?"
Now surprise leaked through the car. "What do you mean, bond?"
Dean couldn't shrug, he might release that energy building in his shoulders. Passing out while driving would be bad; his car might be damaged. "I'm a stupid empath, Logan. Empaths..."
"Empaths what?" Logan demanded, the death-ray glare back. "It's embarrassin', ain't it? I don't wanna know." He looked out the window.
Dean sighed heavily. "But you have to know. Empaths bond with people they consider..." He took his hand off the wheel to motion between them.
"Consider a good ally?" Logan growled, as if that were the only answer he would accept. If Dean hadn't been an empath, he never would guess at how rattled Logan was at this moment.
"Important, all right?" Dean slammed his hand back on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. All of Logan's emotions seemed to be on pause now. Maybe he'd been practicing with Xavier the busybody too.
"Important how?" Logan asked carefully, his emotions still in limbo. When Dean glanced over, his friend was looking at him curiously, face relaxed and open. Logan never looked like that. Hell, he never freaking acted like that either. It was a little creepy. Check that, it was a lot creepy.
Dean reached back to rub at his neck and upper back again. Crap, his back was freaking killing him. He spotted a small turn-out a little ways ahead and headed for it. It wasn't much for a rest stop, just a little place to pull safely off the road, not even a park bench. He couldn't get out of the car fast enough, desperate to stretch and hopefully relieve the tension in his back.
The stretching helped a little, but when Dean turned to face the car again he found Logan leaning against it watching him.
"You was explainin'," Logan prompted, trademark cigar sticking out of one side of his mouth. "Important?"
Dean groaned, lifting an arm and bending it to reach for the middle of his back. With his free hand, Dean grasped his elbow and pulled, stretching his upper back more. He sought out Logan's feelings but there was still a curious lack of any strong emotion there. Another groan escaped as he pulled harder on his elbow, but this one was of surrender.
"Important to me." Dean closed his eyes, dropped his arms and braced himself for the teasing sure to follow that admission.
A clearing throat made Dean open his eyes. Logan was still looking at him with that curious expression as he pushed off the Impala to stand up straight. "This got sumthin' to do with that best friend comment to your kid brother?"
"Yes?" he replied guiltily.
Logan nodded a couple of times. "How's the back? Seems ta be botherin' you."
"Sore," Dean admitted. "Too much, you know, energy." He twisted from side to side, trying to stretch out that sore spot.
"Don't expect a massage outta me," Logan told him sternly, heading for the driver's door, "I ain't your pop. But I am gonna drive the rest of the way. You look beat."
That was it? Dean stared at Logan as his friend sat down in the car. The sound of the driver's door slamming shut wasn't enough to break his stupor. Then Logan leaned out the window to scowl at him. "Kid, are you comin' or what? We got class in the mornin'."
Slowly Dean walked around to sit in the passenger seat. Were no strong emotions good emotions? Or did it mean Logan just didn't care?
"How's that new class goin'?" Logan asked as he pulled back on the highway.
"All right," Dean replied slowly, unsure what to make of these strange reactions. "The kids don't really like the homework and the stuff I'm making them memorize, but they're not griping."
"Then how do you know..." His voice trailed off and Logan chuckled. "Right, you'd know. How much free time do you got these days?" He glanced over when he asked.
Dean shrugged, really not knowing where this was going. "I don't know. Some. Why?"
"Figured you'd make a good assistant in my hand-to-hand combat class," Logan replied.
"Does this mean we're...good?" Dean asked tentatively.
"The way I figure it," Logan explained in a dead-serious voice, "is you don't get ta pick your family, you're stuck with what you got. But a best friend? To pick one-a them and have him pick you back? I reckon that's got to be better."
Nothing but sincerity and a sense of belonging came from Logan. Dean relaxed in his seat. That went a whole lot better than he thought it would, and he never expected the best friend admission from Logan. He had half expected Logan to take a swing at him for bonding them without permission.
"So what's this bonding crap mean?" Logan asked after they had been driving for a while in comfortable silence.
"Basically that I can't screen you out, but you can suppress your emotions if you want to hide them from me. And I think it gives you a little immunity, makes it harder for me to change your perceptions," Dean explained.
"Is that it?" Logan demanded. "'cause I c'n swear sometimes I don't even need ta look at you to tell how you're reactin'."
Dean considered the question. "I don't know, but if we tell Hank I'm sure he'll come up with a way to test it."
Logan shook his head once. "Forget it. I know what Hank's tests are like. Been through enough of 'em." He glanced over. "Now that we're best buddies, are you gonna become an X-Man?"
He let out a short chuckle. "Do I have a choice?" He must as much sarcasm into it as he could muster.
"Nope," Logan replied flatly.
"X-Man? Is that what you really call yourselves?" Dean asked, surprised. "X-Men?"
"Balls, right?" Logan replied with a chuckle. "You been underestimatin' The Professor."
"Apparently," Dean agreed. "So does this mean I get to see your uniform now?"
Logan groaned. Loud. "Kid, I am never gonna hear the end of it, am I?"
Dean grinned. "Dad's not the only stubborn bastard around, you know."
"I been learnin' that," Logan agreed. "Fine. You join the team, I'll show ya my uniform." He held up his index finger. "One time. That's it."
"Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises. Hey, there's a sign for a drive-in! Pull over!"
Logan checked himself out in the narrow floor-length mirror. One-a the gals, probably Jean Grey or Storm, put it in here he was pretty sure. He adjusted his mask, making sure the pointy ear things on the sides were even. Between the bright yellow and blue colors, the fact it was skin tight latex, and that he had pointy ears, Dean was gonna have a field day with this. Logan would rather face down a couple-a dozen bad mutants than walk through the door where Dean waited for 'im. One last tug on his blue gloves, to be sure they were straight, and Logan turned to face the door.
If this was what it meant to have a best friend, maybe he didn't need one. Although he would never, ever admit to it, Logan hesitated before opening that door. He never particularly liked it when people laughed at him. 'course, he wasn't exactly a real funny person either, so it didn't happen very often. But it was gonna happen now. Somehow he knew it, as well as he knew...actually, better than he knew his own name. Bonding. Logan rolled his eyes skyward. This was what being 'bonded' with an empath probably meant. He knew how Dean would react, maybe even before Dean did.
With a deep breath, Logan turned the knob and pulled the door open. Dean looked up from his notebook; the kid claimed he needed ta write some kinda definitions for his new class. Then the kid frowned.
"Dude, what the hell is that? Your Halloween costume? I thought I was finally going to see this uniform of yours?" Dean asked, giving Logan the strangest look.
Logan glanced down at himself. It was the same blue and yellow costume he'd always had as a member of the X-Men. "This is it."
"That?" Dean's eyeballs almost popped outta his head. A slow smile spread. "Seriously? That?" He chuckled, long and slow.
Here it came. Logan could literally feel it as the hilarity built. One hand covered Dean's mouth as the kid's mossy green eyes sparkled with glee. He seemed to choke a couple-a times before giving in to full-out laughin'. Logan sighed and leaned against the doorframe to watch the kid havin' a grand ol' time laughin' his ass off. When Dean couldn't breathe no more and tears was runnin' down that stupid face, Logan had had enough. He turned around, slamming the door on his so-called best friend.
When he came back out, in his regular clothes, Dean was still sittin' out there waitin'. Except for the fact there was still a couple-a wet streaks on the kid's cheeks there was no sign of the hysterical laughin' from before.
"Dude," Dean said slowly with a sad shake of his head, "you need a new uniform. How the hell can you sneak up on anybody in that? It's so freaking loud, you can hear it comin'."
"Huh?" Logan had expected more teasing, not a mandate for a new uniform. "Kid, it ain't like I had much say in it. The Professor just gave it to me."
"No way," his friend said stiffly. "That's not gonna work. I don't care how indestructible he thinks you are, there's no freaking excuse for that. Please tell me you don't do any recon in that thing."
With a guilty glance at the changin' room, the reply was more of a promise when Logan said, "Not anymore."
"Does anyone else wear bright colors like that?" Dean demanded as he stood, clutching the notebook in one hand. "Better not if I'm on the recon mission. Dude, do you have any idea the amount of energy it would take to hide that thing? I'd pass out five minutes into the mission."
Logan scowled. "You're exaggeratin'. As usual."
"Not this time," Dean snapped, checking his watch. "Dinner is in twenty minutes. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."
"Hey!" Logan protested as Dean walked away. "Where do you think your goin'?"
"To see a dude about a black suit!" Dean shouted without turning around.
"Black?" Logan muttered to himself. He nodded thoughtfully as he considered it. "I'd look good in black."
