Sunday Afternoon
Lawrence entered the kitchen to see Dean and Anna seated at the table with another man. Walking up to table, Dean kicked the fourth chair out toward Lawrence, jerking his eyebrows up. Lawrence grabbed the back of the chair and repositioned it as he sat. Running his fingers through his hair, Lawrence looked over to the second man.
"I'm Lawrence Thibideaux," he stretched his hand out.
"Sam Winchester," he answered, taking Lawrence's hand. "You tried to contact our dad."
"Yes," Lawrence answered, clasping his hands before him on the table. "I was told your father could assist me. I have a small problem, and my superiors don't think I can handle it on my own."
Dean and Sam locked eyes. Dean rolled his eyes at Lawrence's half answer.
"Bernard?" Anna asked. Lawrence met her gaze and nodded.
"Wait," Sam interjected. "Bernard from the newspaper?" Dean shot his brother another "dumb-ass" look.
"Yes," Lawrence repeated. "My brother." He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Big brother was always something of a troublemaker," he glanced pointedly at Dean, who cleared his throat and straightened in his seat.
"Lawrence," Anna spoke softly. Their eyes met and Lawrence felt his cheeks burn. "When you and Dean have finished your pissing contest," Dean shot a look at Anna while Sam hid a laugh behind a cough. Anna merely continued "You can tell them anything, Lawrence. Their father and mine went hunting together." She looked up through dark eyelashes at Lawrence. He remembered a time when those eyes had been soft. He remembered a time when she had been soft. For him.
"There's not much to tell," Lawrence said, his voice a little deeper with emotion. Anna's gaze warned him to snap out of it. Clearing his throat, Lawrence continued. "My brother, Bernard, has returned to some of his less savory habits."
Anna sighed. "We'll have our work cut out for us then."