Moving On

Chapter 12 - Stepping Forward

Dean catches me by surprise the morning he asks me about my friend at the school. He's sitting on a bench in the workshop looking relaxed as I work. As I look at him, I realise he's not as relaxed as he's trying to appear, but I'm impressed by how much control he's exerting right now.

"I'll give him a call, see if I can sort out a time for the two of you to chat."

"Uh-huh." He closes his eyes, breathes slowly before opening his eyes again and nodding confirmation.

"Do you want me to say anything about 'you know' to him?"

"Does he need to know."

"Probably not."

"Whatever you think, Bobby."

"You spoken to Sammy?"

"Not yet. Still thinking."

"Dean, in case Mark asks, how far off finishing were you?"

"I can't remember exactly, maybe 3 or 4 months. It was a long time ago now. I've never really thought about it since."

"You gonna take over here for me and I'll go call him." He jumps down and as he steps up beside me, I can hear how ragged his breathing is and as he holds out his hand to take the screwdriver I can see the shake. I catch his eye and say "This what you want?"

"Yeah, a chat then... then we'll see."

"Sounds good."

He turns to take over where I left off. I walk away but turn to watch him for a moment from the door. The anxiety is rolling off of him but he's holding it together well for the moment.

It doesn't take long to make the arrangements on the phone and so I'm back and watching him again before he realises I'm there. I see him throw the screwdriver down and grip the edge of the bench he was working on. "Just get a fucking grip and stop acting like a moron." I hear him say to himself - it's not quite the pep talk I'd have given him but it's very Dean. I can hear his breathing which has become even more erratic in my absence.

I start to step forward to go and help when something makes me hold back to see if he can get it under control himself. I've arranged for him to meet Mark this afternoon, just after lunch and I'm wondering if we're going to be able to make it at all.

As I listen, I can hear that his breathing is calmer although not exactly normal. I look round and see he has picked up the screwdriver again and is working on the screws.

"Dean?"

The screwdriver drops as he jumps. "Shit" He turns around. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" His words are softened by a nervous smile.

"How are you getting on there, sport?"

"Not so good. I don't think I've managed to get more than one right first time. Sorry."

"Don't worry. How about we get cleaned up and get some lunch?"

"Uh-huh. You, er... you speak to your friend?"

"Yeah. But lunch now, make sure you clean yourself up properly first though, change your clothes."

He's at the door when he realises what I've said. He grabs the frame with a groan and sinks to the floor.

"Dean!" I rush to his side but he pushes me away.

"Leave me alone." He rests his head on his knees.

"You okay?"

"Peachy!"

"What are we doing sitting on the floor then?" I can hear the erratic breathing again.

"At least one of us is here by choice."

"Okay. What about the other one?"

"I wondered what the view would be like?"

"Course you did. Seen enough now? Ready to get up and get on?"

"Give me a minute."

"Sure. You going to tell me what the problem is?"

"You've arranged the meeting for this afternoon, haven't you?"

"It's just a chat, Dean. You're not committing to anything more unless you want to."

"If I can't even get ready for this, how the hell am I going to get through a chat."

"Okay. First he's fine; Mark. You'll like him, nice guy. Second, it's a few minutes out of your day, that's all."

"He'll think I'm an idiot."

"No, he won't. He already knows a bit about you."

"He does?"

"There aren't that many car accidents around here. Let alone ones as big as the one you were in and you all survived. Then Sammy has drawn a bit of attention in town. He's not exactly inconspicuous at that height is he? Apparently, Mark's daughter is reading about three times the number of books she was reading before just so she can keep going into the bookstore to ogle our boy!"

Dean snorts in amusement. He seems calmer again. "And I bet our very own geek boy hasn't realised either."

"I'd say that's a given."

"So what else does Mark know?"

"He knew Sam was at Stanford."

"Great," I can hear the disappointment in his voice as he pulls at the threads around the hole in his jeans. "Geek boy was at Stanford but I'm the thick one. You know maybe this isn't such a good idea." It's pride talking now, not anxiety. Despite being proud of Sam's achievements, despite the fact that he would sacrifice everything again for Sam, Dean doesn't want to be seen as stupid alongside him. He stands and walks to lean against the workbench.

"Dean, listen. I explained to him that due to family circumstances you had to leave school early and that you made sure Sam got to finish because of it. I've not gone in to details. Anything more is up to you, but he's not going to think you're stupid."

"Whatever. Come on old man. We better get ready." He offers his hand to pull me up.

"You going through with this?"

"Yeah I think so."

"It'll be fine. You get ready, I'll make lunch."

"Umm Bobby?" He waits until I'm looking at him. "No lunch huh, for me anyway."

"It might help..."

"Trust me on this, no lunch, I'll eat afterwards."

"Okay sport. Dean? There's one thing. You have any jeans without...um... holes." I didn't really want to embarrass him but both boys were pretty short on decent clothes. I'd been able to help Sam out with some whilst Dean was still in the hospital but as yet Dean had not needed to worry about appearing in public.

"I...I don't know what I've got. I'll go and see. I just... I haven't really thought since I've been here. I just swop between the one set in the wash and the other."

"It doesn't matter. Just have a look and if not, we'll get you some in town after."

"I..."

"Dean, I owe you wages for the amount you've done round and about so don't say it okay?"

"Thank you," he says quietly before heading back into the house.

He appears in the kitchen twenty minutes later wearing a pair of suit pants and a shirt and looking embarrassed. "Erm.. you got a belt I could borrow? Mine doesn't fit through the loops and I didn't need a belt last time I wore these. I thought the jacket would be too much but...?"

Looking at him is another reminder of how ill he's been since the accident. The pants were hanging off of him as if made for Sam, but I ignore that and say, "They're a good option. I'll go find a belt. Hang on."