AN: Hey, guys! Sorry about the wait for this chapter. Hope you like it!
Chapter title from the song ''Arms'' by Christina Perri.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
you're my playground love
Written by Becks Rylynn
Part Three: Second Grade
you put your arms around me and i'm home
Mortimer Brewster: Hello? Operator? Can you hear my voice? You can? Are you sure? ...Well, then I must be here.
- Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
February, 2007:
For Ben Winchester, second grade was a lot like first grade. And kindergarten. And preschool. He had friends all over the place and he was thriving as a social butterfly. But he wasn't at the intellectual level of his peers and his grades were in a rapid, and seemingly permanent, decrease. Everyone - teachers, his parents, his grandparents, Ruby - was convinced that all he needed was a little more discipline. He needed to pay attention to what was going on inside the classroom, not what was happening outside the classroom window. He needed to concentrate. He didn't need to daydream. That was all. He simply lacked focus. Things would get better once he had focus.
But that was easier said than done, and Dean was quickly approaching the end of his rope. Ever since the new year, Dean and Lisa had been cracking down on the homework issue but nothing ever seemed to get through to the boy. Whenever he'd try, he'd fail, and then he'd shrug, smile sheepishly and say, ''Sorry. I forgot.''
It was a terrible thing to think. It was awful. It made Dean feel guilty as hell and like a terrible father, but when he looked at Ben's bestest buddy...
Evan was just so smart. He was like a tiny little superhero of knowledge and sometimes Dean thought things would be easier if Ben were more like Evan. He just wanted Ben to try a little more. He had thought with the amount of time they spent together, some of Evan's smarts and dedication to school would be bound to rub off on Ben, but that didn't appear to be happening.
The fact of the matter was that Ben was turning into a mini-Dean. He always had better places to be, better things to be doing, he hated schoolwork, and he lacked the concentration he needed. All that didn't sit well with Dean. In fact, it terrified him. During his high school years, he had been one of those don't know much about history, don't know much about biology types. He had barely scraped by in school because he just didn't care. He was always cutting class to smoke a joint under the bleachers or for quickies in the janitor's closet. The only reason he had even bothered to attempt to graduate (which he did, but barely) was because he knew how much it meant to his mother and father to see him walk across that stage.
He didn't want Ben to be like that. Ben was supposed to be better. Not Dean Winchester 2.0. And maybe it was early to be thinking about high school and graduation and all of that, but Dean honestly couldn't help but wonder if history was doomed to repeat itself with Ben. He didn't want to be as terrified about his son's future as his father had been about his.
Which was precisely why Dean was dreading tomorrow night's parent/teacher conference at the school. He had a pretty good idea of what was going to be said, and he had a pretty good idea that he wasn't going to like it.
And it really didn't help that Ben's second grade teacher, Mrs. Laurel, had once taught all three of the Winchester children and probably didn't have fond memories of troublemaker Dean, know-it-all Sam and capricious little Veronica.
Susan Vance: You've just had a bad day, that's all.
David Huxley: That's a masterpiece of an understatement.
- Bringing Up Baby (1938)
Tucked away in a corner booth of the dimly lit restaurant, Dean tried to block out the sound of the few remaining late night customers, focusing on the papers in his hands. Eyes still on the photos of vacant commercial properties, he grumbled under his breath and loosened his tie, eventually pulling it off and tossing it onto the table. He loathed ties. He really did. He hated that his mother made him wear one at work. It was torture.
Someone slid into the seat across from him and the candle on the table flickered briefly. He looked up, eyeing Ruby closely as she pulled her hair free of the ponytail it had been in for work, shaking her blond hair out. He swallowed hard and looked back down. ''Long day?''
''I don't like drunk people,'' she declared, reaching forwards to pull his plate of half eaten apple pie towards her. ''Actually, scratch that. I just don't like people.'' She dipped her finger in the filling, licked it off (hot) and frowned. Almost reluctantly, she took a bite of the pie, instantly grimacing and pushing it away from her. ''This pie is shit.''
''Yeah, it's kind of boring,'' he agreed. ''Barely above average.''
''There's way too much cinnamon. And the apples are limp. They're like a deflated and sad little - ''
''Something dirty?''
She sighed. ''No.''
He put down the papers and grinned at her like a Cheshire cat. ''I love it when you talk about baked goods. You make pie sound like sex. That's the dream.''
She snorted, stealing his beer and slumping down into the booth.
''Allison,'' Dean caught the arm of a passing waitress, handing her the plate of pie. ''Take this to Riley. Tell him the pie is embarrassing. No. Wait. Tell him Mom said the pie is embarrassing. See if he wets his pants.''
Ruby snickered, lowering her head. Dean loved the way she looked when she was trying not to laugh. The way she'd look down at her hands with her tongue between her teeth and her hair falling in her face. It almost made her glow. Or maybe that was the candlelight bouncing off her face. Either way, he had thought about it way too much. ''And therein lies your problem,'' Ruby said once Allison had sauntered away, looking endlessly confused. ''Your pastry chef is afraid of your mother.''
''Everyone is afraid of my mother, Ruby.''
''I'm not. I love your mother.''
''One of these days,'' he promised, pointing at her. ''I'm going to wear Mom down.''
''Eh,'' she shrugged. ''If I were her, I wouldn't hire me either. I don't have any qualifications and I haven't had any training. Even Riley studied at the CIA.''
''What? Riley's a spy? A spy with pie?''
''Culinary Institute of America.''
''Oh, right. I knew that.''
''I mean, the only jobs I've ever held are bartender, waitress, cashier and briefly, librarian.''
''That's kind of hot.''
''I'm hardly qualified to be the pastry chef at a ridiculously overpriced third date restaurant.''
''Yeah, but your pies can make miracles happen.'' He nodded seriously. ''It's true. I've seen it. Ben ate a slice of your pumpkin pie and then when I told him to clean his room, he did.''
''And I want to swim in your duck sauce,'' she countered. ''But you seem to spend more time in the front of house rather than in the kitchen where you belong. Face it, Dean,'' she took a swig of his beer. ''Sometimes dreams fall by the wayside. It's life.''
He frowned at her, arching an eyebrow. It was times like these when he saw that real and true brokenness she had in her. Ruby never talked much about her life in Wilmington. All he knew were bits and pieces. The basics, some of which he had gotten from her and some he had gotten from Evan. She had Evan when she was eighteen, her ex-husband was a now-you-see-him-now-you-don't kind of deadbeat, her parents were not very nice people, and she had two sisters. One of them, Sadie, was quite a bit older than her and not particularly close to her family, the other, Kristy, was Sammy's age and currently living the artist's dream somewhere in Italy. One time, when Dean had graciously offered to babysit Evan and Annabelle, he answered the phone and it had been Kristy. The girl, undeterred by the fact that she was conversing with a total stranger, had rambled on for goddamned half an hour without letting him get a word in edgewise and then had ended her ramble by outright asking, ''so, dude, are you fucking my sister?''
Ruby had never really gone into detail about why her parents weren't very nice people, or why her ex was such a douchebag, and she had never talked about her life before becoming a mom except to say she was a ''reformed wild child'' but there was an undeniable sadness to her. An abundantly clear loneliness. Dean would never admit this out loud - and certainly not to her because she had been very clear that they couldn't go down that particular road - but at this point in their friendship, he would've done anything to carry that weight on her shoulders for her.
That, he was well aware, was a clear sign that he was in way too deep with this woman.
''Sometimes you're depressing,'' he said at last.
''Sometimes you're nutty,'' she fired back. ''I've learned to accept it.'' Her hand shot out to snatch up one of his discarded papers, eyes scanning the page quickly. ''Looking for a place to dump bodies?'' She asked casually, plucking another paper from the pile. '' 'Cause I'm still not convinced this whole restaurant thing isn't a front for mob related activities. Have you met your mother? She may not scare me, but I'm quite certain she could make Sonny Corinthos shit his pants.''
''It's really sad that the only mobster you could come up with was the weasely guy from General Hospital.''
''Seriously,'' she put the papers down, looking up at him. ''What's with the research?''
''I was just...'' He cleared his throat, snatching the papers back and gathering them into a neat pile. ''...Looking at possible locations for a new restaurant.''
''Your mom's - ''
''No, not my mom's. Mine.''
She tilted her head to the side. ''You're opening your own place?''
He shrugged. ''I don't know. Maybe. Someday.'' He smiled slowly and leaned across the table to steal his beer back from her. ''See, sweetheart. Not all dreams have to fall by the wayside.''
When her lips parted in a quiet laugh and her eyes crinkled, his smile widened. ''Don't call me sweetheart,'' she deadpanned.
''So, parent/teacher conference tomorrow,'' he piped up, swiftly changing the subject and leaning back in his seat. ''You goin'?''
She laughed. ''Definitely. Evan's been switching back and forth between excited and nervous for the past two weeks.'' She stifled a yawn and turned to dig through her purse, pulling out her cell phone. ''What about you?''
''I'll be there,'' he nodded. ''I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll be there.''
''Not a fan of the parent/teacher conference?'' She asked, lifting her eyes from her cell phone.
''Not usually,'' he admitted. ''Even less this year. I don't know if you've noticed this, but their teacher is a - ''
''Not a very nice person?'' She cut in, eyeing him closely.
''Sure, we'll go with that.''
''Well, Evan loves these things. He's not good at sports or anything but he's good at academia. Parent/teacher conferences are his playoffs. I swear to God,'' she murmured from behind her wild hair, staring down at her cell phone. ''He's as excited for this thing as I was when I went to my first Backstreet Boys concert in '98.'' As soon as she said it, she froze and then slowly looked up, eyes widening in horror as she realized what she had just let slip out.
Dean dropped his head to hide the smirk growing on his lips. He tried to pretend he hadn't heard what she said, clearing his throat and absentmindedly sifting through the papers. But the need to mock her for that one was just too strong, and as it turned out his self control wasn't all that impeccable. When he started humming under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, she groaned and covered her face with her hands. ''Note to self,'' she muttered. ''No matter how tired you are, never air your dirty little secrets to a Winchester.''
''No, no,'' he protested. ''I think it's cute.''
''Sure you do.''
''Hey, how did that one song go?'' He frowned and tried to flash back to when tiny little Veronica had gone through her boy band stage, annoying everyone in the house with sugary pop music being played at an obnoxious volume day and night. ''Oh! I remember now.'' He cleared his throat pointedly. ''I don't care who you are, where you're from, what you did, as long as you love me.''
She rolled her eyes. ''Okay, I get it. I should be embarrassed.''
That did not deter Dean. ''This should be our song,'' he told her. The one downside to this was that he was going to have this stupid song stuck in his head all night. He thought it was totally worth it. ''Who you are, where you're from, don't care what you did, as long as you love me. Come on, Ruby, sing it with me. Every little thing that you have said and done feels like it's deep within me - ''
''You are aware that all you're doing right now is displaying your startling knowledge of Backstreet Boys lyrics, right?''
''Hey,'' he pointed a finger at her. ''I have a little sister. What's your excuse?''
''I was a teenage girl in the nineties.''
''Mmmhmm. So, uh...'' Dean rested his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand. ''Which one did you think was dreamy?''
''Don't be ridiculous,'' she huffed, avoiding his eyes.
''Which one did you want to marry?''
''Dean - ''
''Which one?''
''Brian.''
''Well, thank God it wasn't the one with the hair.''
''...I'm pretty sure they all had hair. Actually, I'm pretty sure they all still have hair. Do you mean Nick?''
''I don't know, Ruby. I don't know their names.''
''Oh, well. I'm sorry, I thought because you know all the words to their songs you might know their names.''
''I don't know all the...'' He broke off in a sigh, leaning back in his seat and looking around for prying eyes or ears. ''Okay, listen. I will never admit to knowing all of the lyrics to the Backstreet Boys songs. But I will admit that at one point in my life, I had a thing for Christina Aguilera.''
Her eyes lit up and her lips curled back in a bright smile. ''You mean you sang along to - ''
''I didn't sing along to anything,'' he argued. ''I just...you know...wanted to be on her.''
''Ah,'' she nodded sagely. ''You wanted to be the genie in her bottle.''
''Nice.''
''Thanks.''
''And yes. Serious question time.'' He swirled the remaining contents of his beer bottle and leaned his elbows on the table. He met her eyes and set his lips into a grim, straight line, reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. ''Was it just the BSB or was it all boy bands in general?''
Despite the smile curving over her lips, she sighed loudly like he was the biggest dumbass on the face of the earth and rolled her eyes again, sliding out of the booth. ''Okay, I'm leaving now.'' She slung her bag over her shoulder and patted him on the cheek. ''As much as I'd like to stay and learn just how much you know about boy bands, it's getting late and it's a big day tomorrow. These conferences are like Evan's Academy Awards. And I have to walk home.''
''Oh, come on,'' he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him one last time. ''Am I your fire? Your one desire?''
''Bye, Crazy.''
He laughed, low in his throat and shook his head, turning his attention back to his beer. She was almost halfway to the door, tugging on her jacket when something she said finally registered. ''Wait, Ruby. Ruby!'' He shot out of his seat, bumped into a table, and then raced across the restaurant, weaving in between tables like it was some sort of twisted obstacle course in order to cut her off at the door.
Startled, she took a step back. ''Wow, and you stuck to the landing too.''
''You're walking home?'' He echoed her earlier statement in disbelief. ''As in...walking?''
''That is what I said, yes. Problem?''
''Ruby, it's almost eleven o'clock, you live twenty minutes away by car, and it's February. It's freezing. I got my tongue stuck to a pole just the other day. That's how cold it is.''
She wrinkled her nose in confusion. ''Why did you - ''
''Ben bet me his allowance that I wouldn't do it.''
''...Naturally.''
''Let me drive you home.''
She hesitated, biting down on her lip and looking over her shoulder worriedly. ''I don't know. Don't they need you here?''
''Nah, it's my mom's day to close up anyway.''
''Well, what about - ''
''Sweetheart,'' he put his hands on her shoulders. ''It is okay for you to accept some help every once and awhile. I promise.''
Her lips twitched and she tore her eyes away from his. Her fingers momentarily fiddled with her purse straps and her eyes looked out into the dark winter night. Then she caved. ''Okay. Drive me home. And don't call me sweetheart.''
He grinned. (In way. Too. Deep.) ''Great. Let me just tell my parents.'' He started to step around her only to stop and backtrack, letting out a nervous sounding laugh. ''Not that I have to. I'm not a child.''
She lifted her eyes briefly, long enough to send him a distracted look. ''Uh-huh.''
''Really.''
''No, I get it,'' she said, holding the cell phone to her ear. ''You're a big boy now.''
He opened his mouth to say something in response, came up empty, and then gave up, shaking his head as he stepped around her and started the trek towards the kitchen. He was about halfway there when the definite sound of a crash echoed through the air, followed by the muffled sounds of laughter. And then his mother came running out of the kitchen like a bat out of hell, flushed and smiling, with his father following close behind, chasing after her with a piping bag full of icing in his hand. Dean stopped in his tracks, horrified, and turned around briefly to look at Ruby.
And people thought he acted immature sometimes.
He anxiously looked over his shoulder once more to check on the remaining customers, none of whom appeared to be bothered by John and Mary Winchester's PDA. ''Whoa, guys,'' he jumped into the fray seconds before his parents started necking like teenagers, plastering a stern glare on his face. ''Cool it. This is a family show.''
''Oh, baby,'' Mary laughed from her spot in her husband's arms, reaching out to pat Dean on the cheek. ''Lighten up.''
''There are customers.''
''Who? Frances and Alyssa Applebom? They know us,'' John countered. ''Hey, Frances!'' He raised a hand in a friendly wave, smiling jovially at the middle aged man and his very young wife who were sharing a peach torte. ''How's the insurance business.''
''People die. We do our best not to pay.''
''Super!''
''That is not the point,'' Dean cut in. ''The point is that this is unprofessional work attitude.''
Mary drew away from John and perched herself on the bar, daintily crossing one leg over the other. ''And?''
''And it's freaking me out.''
''Well then you'd better leave now, son,'' John advised. ''Because it's about to get all freaky up in here.'' With a grin, he licked some icing off his finger.
Mary threw her head back and laughed.
Dean blinked at his father, and then decided not to let that one go. ''I'm going to take Ruby home now.''
''Okay!'' Mary, the number one supporter of the Dean/Ruby courtship, nodded enthusiastically. ''But always remember to practice safe sex. You already have three kids between the two of you.''
''...What exactly do you think I said there? I said I'm going to drive her home. Not ride her home.''
''Oh, I know what you said. I'm just saying. You aren't subtle.''
''Kiss her on the mouth like you mean it,'' John encouraged cheerfully.
''As opposed to kissing her on the mouth like I don't mean it?'' Dean asked in a deadpan.
''That would be the general idea, yes.''
''How do you kiss someone on the mouth and not mean it?''
John shrugged. ''You could trip,'' he explained matter-of-factly.
''It happens,'' Mary agreed seriously.
John nodded. ''It does.''
''Well,'' Dean shook his head, swallowing down the urge to ask if they had been drinking. ''It doesn't matter because there's not going to be any kissing,'' he said vehemently. ''I'm driving her home because it's late and it's cold. We're not going on a magic carpet ride. I'm going to leave now. Feel free to neck as soon as I'm gone.'' He paused, stared at the piping bag in his father's hands, and then snatched it up with a small scowl. ''And these are not toys. Shame on you.''
Lady: But we shouldn't.
Tramp: I know. That's what makes it fun. Aw, come on, kid. Start building some memories.
- Lady and the Tramp (1955)
Parent/teacher conferences had always been a big thing in the Connors family. Not just Evan, but with Ruby and her sisters too. Sadie had been the model student her entire life and she had always loved praise so when she got to drag their parents to her school, she made sure the night was filled with praise. Sadie had always been very egotistical. Even as a child. She got that from their father. Hell, even Kristy made a big deal out of those conferences. Even if it was only because Kristy, the resident slacker, never wanted to go and a fight always occurred no matter what.
Those conferences had been a big deal for Ruby too. School was hard for her. Beyond hard actually. Sometimes the simplest things seemed impossible and out of her reach. Eventually, after being diagnosed with a learning disorder, she found out why. When she was a kid, all she wanted to do was please her mom and dad. She wanted to be smart like Sadie and brave like Kristy. She wanted them to praise her like they praised Sadie; she wanted their attention on her like it was on Kristy. So she did all she could to make sure her grades were as close to perfect as she could get them, and she waited for praise that never came.
Evan had somehow inherited all of that. He seemed to have the same compulsive need to please people like his mother, he loved praise like Sadie, and sometimes, because of his nerves, he hid under the bed to avoid going like Kristy used to do.
Evan was a basketcase, but he was her little basketcase.
Tonight was no different. Jittery, nervous, excited, and on the verge of an asthma attack, Evan finally got in the car after three failed attempts and then they were on the way. Annabelle, whose babysitter had cancelled at the last minute, was happily along for the ride, singing at the top of her lungs in the backseat about how amazing her boyfriend Dean was. All in all, this had the makings of a very memorable night.
It wasn't just jitters and toddlers with crushes either. Ruby couldn't explain it - she usually didn't mind these conferences - but tonight she was dreading it. She had no idea what was going to happen tonight, but something was going to go down. She could feel it in her bones. She had always had some kind of weird sixth sense when it came to these sorts of situations.
Winnie the Pooh: Hello, out there! Oh, I hope nobody answers.
- Winne the Pooh and the Very Blustery Day (1968)
Annnd she was right.
The night started off pretty good. The Winchester clan were all huddled in the hallway when they got there, admiring the second grade artwork on the bulletin board. Ben was bouncing up and down excitedly, tugging at his mother's arm as he carefully and lovingly pointed out his own picture. Dean and Keith, Lisa's much older hulk of a live-in boyfriend, were standing back chatting amicably. The first thing Ruby noticed was the way Dean's hand was in his pocket, mostly likely jingling his car keys which was something he did when he was in uncomfortable small talk mode. (Oh, god. What did it mean that she knew that?)
Annabelle's first reaction to being inside her brother's school was to - before she spotted Dean - look up at her mom with hopeful eyes and ask, ''Is my Dean here?''
This was not unusual behavior.
Annabelle had something very special going on with Dean.
When Evan was Annabelle's age, his favourite person, his best friend, his number one crush, was his mommy. ('Cause, you know, when you're a tiny little tyke, you find nothing wrong with the idea of marrying your daddy 'cause he's the handsomest man you know, or your mommy, who is the prettiest princess in the world.) Annabelle's favourite person, however, - her bestie for life, her eternal dance partner, the person she was bound and determined to marry someday - was her Dean. Ruby couldn't blame the girl. Dean did have a tendency to treat Annabelle like she could walk on water. (Ruby had been told he had treated his sister the same way when she was born.) To Dean, Annabelle was something extraordinarily precious that was spun out of pure gold. To Annabelle, Dean was the one who put the stars in the sky and made the sun come out. It was the type of relationship Ruby used to wish Travis could drum up the energy for. If Annabelle one day started calling Dean Daddy, it would not be surprising. It would open up a giant can of worms, yes. But it would not be altogether surprising.
Dean and Annabelle...
...Well, for God's sake, that man watched The Wiggles for that little girl. It was, without a doubt, something special and something that needed to be documented in roughly five million and three pictures because that was how adorable it was. Looking back, it had definitely started after Ben and Evan had become friends, but Annabelle's infatuation had really taken off when Ruby's appendix had burst in late August and Dean (and to a slightly lesser extent, Lisa) had spent practically a week living at Ruby's, taking care of the kids while she recuperated. By now, there was no doubt that if Annabelle had to choose between her mommy and Dean Winchester, she'd choose Dean. Ruby might be able to get the boys on her side because - hey, she was a pastry chef and those two boys loved sugar, but Annabelle was all Dean's. Ruby would be somewhat offended if it wasn't so darned cute.
This was why, as soon as Ruby pointed Dean out to Annabelle, the little girl let out a very loud screech of pure joy and went rocketing towards him as fast as her little legs would carry her. When Dean caught her easily, lifting her up into his arms with an exuberant sounding, ''Princess!'' and the sound of Annabelle laughing in delight carried over the sound of other children and parents talking, Ruby couldn't help but smile. Dean looked up and caught her eye, lips quirking into a smile as Annabelle wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.
But that was where the goodness of the evening kind of ended.
Dean and Lisa were the first called into talk to Mrs. Laurel so, after Annabelle had been literally pried from Dean's arms, Evan took the time to show Ruby around the entire school, proudly sprouting off everything he had learned about his elementary school and its history. Just when Annabelle was getting antsy, wanting to know where Dean was and when he would be coming back, Evan decided to quiz her on everything that was about to happen, making sure that she knew the appropriate parent/teacher conversation topics and the ones that were simply unacceptable.
Ben and Keith came out of the classroom about halfway through, and while Keith immediately began grumbling about Mrs. Laurel's attitude to Ruby, Ben and Evan went skipping off to the side to trade secret whispers. Ruby was acutely aware of a few whispers about their multiple theories that Mrs. Laurel must be some kind of witch. That could not be a good sign. The waiting only succeeded in making her even more anxious than she already was. She knew Laurel was a hardass. That had been violently drilled into her head over the past five and a half months that the boys had spent in her classroom.
The woman had two big problems. One: She had ancient viewpoints on life and wasn't afraid to vocalize her views. Two: She had one hell of a stick up her ass. Lisa called her a judgmental woman stuck in the past. Dean went for the more direct approach and called her a bitter old bitchy bag of bones. The thing about Mrs. Laurel was that she was really only terrifying to the parents. The kids didn't like her because she was too strict and she gave out too much homework (admittedly, Evan had really no problem with the homework thing) and maybe she could have used a tad more patience with them. But she actually did a pretty respectable job of not judging the kids. Or at least not judging them vocally.
But the parents? The parents were a different story. She judged the hell out of the parents. She judged Dean and Lisa because they had a child when they were young and unmarried. She judged Lisa because she was living in sin with a man who was eighteen years older than her. She judged Lucy Carl's two dads, she judged Katie's parents because they were divorced, and you better believe she judged Ruby for being a young unmarried single mother. That was why Ruby was dreading this so much. Every look Laurel gave her was just pure I'm judging you so hard, you stupid slut.
Now, Ruby knew she shouldn't let these things get to her. People judged. It was human nature. But she couldn't help it. She was far more vulnerable than she let on. She hated that she had become so easily hurt (before she was a mother, she was a badass who didn't give a flying rat's ass about what anyone thought about her), but when people judged her parenting skills just because she was younger than some other parents, it hurt.
When Dean and Lisa finally emerged from the classroom, Ruby's anxiety only soared. Lisa looked frustrated, lips pinched, cheeks flushed in anger. Dean looked like someone had kicked his puppy. Despite the look on his face and the way he kept loosening his collar like he thought it was going to choke him at any given moment, he somehow still managed to hold his arms out for Annabelle with a smile.
''I'm guessing it didn't go well,'' Ruby murmured as she winced and rose to her feet, straightening his collar for him.
Dean hesitated, sharing a look with Lisa. ''It...didn't go the way we wanted, no. But - ''
''It was awful,'' Lisa stated bluntly, ugly scowl marring her pretty face. ''That woman is horrible.'' But then she beamed and patted Ruby on the shoulder. ''But good luck though!''
Ruby sighed.
When Ruby made her way into the classroom with Evan, she held her breath. Evan was practically shaking with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Ruby just wanted to get this over with. Things actually surprisingly started out smooth. Mrs. Laurel took her around the classroom, showed her some of Evan's work, and then they talked about his strengths and weaknesses. Ruby beamed with pride when she listened to all of the things her son excelled at. As for the things he didn't excel at, she wasn't totally surprised. He wasn't good in gym class and he did have some issues with his handwriting and printing. And then, of course, there was the playing with others factor.
When they started getting into his willingness to work with others, Mrs. Laurel asked Evan to go wait outside. That was when the alarms sounded in Ruby's head. Nothing good could come from this. Swallowing hard, Ruby turned to Evan, who looked hesitant to leave the room, looking in between his teacher and his mother uncertainly. ''It's okay, buddy,'' she smiled brightly. ''Dean and Lisa took your sister and Ben outside to the basketball court - '' She did not miss the way Mrs. Laurel's already sour face soured even more at the mention of Dean and Lisa '' - You put your jacket on and go straight there, okay?''
Evan glanced back and forth between the two women once more, hesitated, and then nodded, turning to walk slowly out of the room. Ruby bit down on her bottom lip as she watched him go.
''Ms. Connors,'' Mrs. Laurel began, then paused. ''It is Ms, right? Not Mrs?''
Ruby sighed and worked hard to keep her face carefully blank. ''Yes, it's still Ms. Same as the last time you asked.''
''Yes,'' Laurel's lips thinned even more. ''Right. Ms - '' Cue the unnecessary emphasis on Ms '' - Connors. Does Evan have a strong male presence in his life? I'm assuming not.''
''Have you ever heard that old saying about assuming, Mrs. Laurel?'' She asked, careful to keep her voice extra pleasant as she crossed one leg over the other. ''Because I'm sorry to wreck any theories you may have about my son, but lack of a male presence isn't scarring him in any way. What his father doesn't give him, Dean more than makes up for.''
Mrs. Laurel tilted her head to one side. ''Dean? Dean Winchester?'' She questioned dryly. ''Do you really think he's the right sort of character to allow your son to model himself after?''
''I think,'' Ruby started quietly. ''That Evan doesn't need to model himself after anyone. I also think that if he was going to model himself after anyone, I would want it to be Dean. I think Dean's a great man.'' She shrugged and gave the older woman a wide smile. ''But then again, you can't really say what Dean's like outside of school, can you? I mean, you wouldn't want to make the wrong assumption, would you?''
Mrs. Laurel sucked in a breath. ''...I suppose not.''
Feeling smug, Ruby leaned back in her chair. ''Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Mrs. Laurel?''
Seemingly regaining her bearings, Mrs. Laurel cleared her throat and clasped her hands over her desk. ''Evan is an incredibly bright boy,'' she began. Ruby could already sense the big giant BUT that was coming. ''But - '' Called it '' - His number one weakness is his ability to interact with others. He's standoffish - ''
''He's shy.''
'' - And he only seems to have one friend, who, by the way - ''
''Is a wonderful little boy with excellent parents? I agree with you there.''
''Ms. Connors,'' Mrs. Laurel sighed in exasperation. Her voice was tight and clipped and her entire body language was frustrated. Her wrinkled face seemed permanently pinched. She was like a living, breathing example of that little white lie parents told their kids to get them to stop making faces when they were forced to eat their vegetables. If you keep making that face, it'll stay that way. Apparently no one had told Edna Laurel that fable. The woman shook her head and looked away from Ruby briefly, shuffling the papers on her desk as she muttered under her breath. Whether it was a conscious effort to get a dig in or if it was just proof that the woman didn't know how to mumble, Ruby heard exactly what Laurel mumbled under his breath. ''This is why babies shouldn't have babies.''
And there it was.
''Ms. Connors,'' she began once again, speaking crisply. ''When a child acts the way your son does, the only explanation is that - ''
''It must be my fault?'' Ruby cut in incredulously.
''In previous cases, the child's home life - ''
''My child's home life is fine,'' Ruby bit out through her teeth. ''Sometimes children are just shy, Mrs. Laurel. Maybe it's something Evan will grow out of or maybe it's something he'll grow into and learn to deal with. I don't know yet. You want to know why? Because he's seven years old. He is a seven year old boy who doesn't need his teacher judging him because he's shy.''
''I'm not judging him because he's shy,'' Mrs. Laurel said calmly.
Ruby's shoulders sagged in defeat and she shook her head, all of a sudden feeling tired and alone. ''No, you're judging me. You're judging me because... Why exactly are you judging me? Is it because I can't provide him with a live in father figure?'' She paused and leaned a little closer, trying to meet the teacher's eyes. ''Or is it because I'm young?''
''There is no need to get so hostile, Ms. Connors,'' Mrs. Laurel spat out. ''Honestly, your temper - ''
''My temper is consistent with that of a mother being attacked. Just tell me,'' Ruby stood to tower over Mrs. Laurel. ''Do you look down on me because of my age?'' Laurel's silence was all that was needed. Ruby chuckled bitterly, trying not to show her hurt. ''Do you have kids, Mrs. Laurel?'' She asked softly.
The teacher nodded her head. ''I do. I have four of them. They're adults now.''
''And how did you raise them?''
''I don't think that's any of your business.''
''You're absolutely right,'' Ruby nodded. ''It's not. It's not any of my business and I'm not going to step in where I don't belong.'' Heart racing out of rage and a hurt that went deeper than it should have been allowed to, she spun on her heel to walk away. She was not going to just stand there and let some bitter old hag attack her. ''You know,'' she added on an afterthought, turning around once more to face Mrs. Laurel. ''The truth is, age doesn't matter. There are women out there who are well past the acceptable age of child rearing, whatever that age may be, and they're terrible mothers. I'll bet there's a scared seventeen year old girl out there somewhere still living with her parents while she raises her baby and she could easily be a better mom than some stereotypical thirty five year old woman out in the suburbs with three kids, a Bentley, and a husband with a cushy job. The only thing that matters when it comes to parenting is parenting and how you do it. Age is just a number. I would think that with all your years of teaching experience, all your years of living experience, that you would know that by now.''
Cinderella: Oh, no. No, it isn't true. It's just no use. No use at all. I can't believe. Not anymore. There's nothing left to believe in. Nothing.
Fairy Godmother: Nothing, my dear? Oh, now you don't really mean that.
Cinderella: Oh, but I do...
Fairy Godmother: Nonsense, child. If you'd lost all your faith, I couldn't be here. And here I am.
- Cinderella (1950)
Okay, so Dean wasn't seriously worried that Edna Laurel had murdered Ruby and stuffed her body in a locker but at this point, he wasn't going to rule out anything. Ruby had been gone for awhile and it didn't hurt to check. Laurel did have dead eyes, after all. After leaving the kids with Lisa and Keith, Dean set off to find Ruby, hoping against hope that she hadn't been chopped into little pieces and dipped in holy water by some crazy hag who thought she was a major ass sinner. It was somewhat comforting to find that Ruby wasn't still in Mrs. Laurel's classroom (when he poked his head in, Mrs. Laurel was in the middle of tearing down Katie's mom and dad like a wrinkly old Godzilla) but that only left the question of where she was.
Just when he was about to go check Edna's old clunker of a car for body parts, he found her. She was sitting in the darkened gymnasium, up on the bleachers, and she did not look happy. He supposed that was mostly to be expected. No one looked happy after having a one on one with Laurel. She was like some sort of embarrassing disease. You didn't want to tell anyone about what she did to you, but it was always there in the back of your mind making you feel absolutely miserable about yourself.
Dean sighed and leaned against the door to the gym. ''Didn't go well, huh?''
Ruby looked up sharply and offered him a small, weak half smile before lowering her gaze again. He licked his lips and pushed off the doorframe, moving towards her. ''Did you know I was married when I had Evan?'' She asked quietly when he hesitated in front of the bleachers.
He nodded slowly. ''I did.''
''Did you know I was married before Evan was even...a twinkle in my eye?''
He climbed the bleachers, keeping the look on his face calm and expressionless as he took a seat next to her. ''That I didn't know.''
''Yeah.'' She nodded, a strange sort of wobbly smile coming to rest on her lips. ''I've never really talked about my marriage, have I?''
''You don't have to.''
She shrugged. ''Doesn't matter. It's over, isn't it?'' She took a breath, looking down at her hands. ''I got married right after my seventeenth birthday. I don't even know why really. I don't remember how we ever decided we were ready for that, but...yeah, we were married. And I could have told Mrs. Laurel that. I could have told her that I had a husband and a job and I could have told her that I graduated at the top of my class, but that wouldn't have changed anything.''
Dean's fingers itched to touch her, to comfort her somehow, but he was frozen, held in place by the brokenness in her voice. ''No,'' he agreed. ''Probably not.''
''I'm not a slut,'' she said suddenly, looking up at him with a fiercely determined look in her eyes. It would have been a truly beautiful thing to see, that bright spark, if she didn't look so sad. ''I'm not some slutty little girl who couldn't keep her legs closed. I'm just a young mother. I'm sick of people assuming that those two things are identical because they're not. I had been with Travis since I was fourteen and by the time I was seventeen, he was all I knew. Marriage to us just seemed like the next logical step. We truly thought we would be together forever. We thought marriage would be fun. A few days before my eighteenth birthday, I found out I was pregnant and I made the choice to keep my baby and raise it. None of that makes me a slut. A little misguided maybe, but not a slut.'' There were tears glistening in her eyes by the time she was finished. Honestly, Dean wasn't sure if he had ever seen her cry. She had it rough, he knew that. He knew certain things wore her down. It was just her. She didn't have family here, the kids' father wasn't here. She was alone, and he knew how stressed she could get. But he wondered if she ever just let herself break down and cry. She was so determined to be strong for her kids, he was betting she hadn't sat down and had a real good cry in a long time.
''Ruby - ''
''I am doing the best that I can,'' she said, voice breaking. ''I have worked so hard to get where I am.''
''Oh, sweetheart,'' he brushed hair away from her neck. ''I know that.''
''I moved here to get away from people like her.'' She paused, looking down at her hands. ''My parents are people like her,'' she admitted quietly, as if that was the first time she had ever told anyone that. ''I mean,'' her voice softened slightly and some of the air went out of her. ''I understand that when you're a parent, you're always going to second guess yourself. Am I doing this right? Could I be doing better? Should I have given my kid that much sugar? But when it feels like the whole world is watching you and waiting for you to screw up because you're young and therefore must be incompetent it's all just so much harder.'' She had to stop, swallowing thickly. When she spoke up again, her voice shook. ''And it won't ever stop. All I'll ever be to those people is the embodiment of sin and damnation. Some stupid reckless girl who spread her legs for a boy and has to live with her mistakes for the rest of her life.'' She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly before opening them and turning her gaze to him like she was waiting for him to speak.
''...Well...'' He began slowly, pinching his lips together. He looked out at the empty gymnasium for a moment and then looked right back at her. ''So what?''
She blinked at him, lips thinning. ''Excuse me?''
He shrugged, something fiery starting in his chest. ''So what?'' He repeated. ''Fuck 'em. Fuck what they think. What do you think?''
She, for some reason, looked startled by that question. ''W-What?''
''Do you think,'' he tipped her chin up and wiped the tears off her cheek with the pad of his thumb. ''That you made the right choice in having Evan and Annabelle?''
When she answered without a moment of hesitation, ''Absolutely,'' he couldn't help but grin.
''Then why do you care so much about what other people think?'' He asked bluntly. ''Ruby, people like Edna will always find something to judge you on. From the clothes you wear to the way you raise your kids. If it's not one thing, it's another. You think you're the only one the world watches? You're not. The world watches all of us,'' he deadpanned. ''Every person out there is just waiting for someone else to screw up. It takes the focus off their own fuck ups. Why do you think people laugh when they see someone fall over? Face it, sweetheart. People suck. That's just the way it goes. You know what Lisa's got? She's got people snickering at her behind her back and people mistaking her for Keith's daughter because of their age difference. You know what Mom's got? She's got people in the food industry looking down on her because she's a woman.'' He leaned in closer to her, jaw set, eyes glinting. ''You know what I've got? I've got some old broad who thinks she's the queen of everything telling me that my kid is as dumb as a box of rocks because of me.'' He stopped, just long enough to swallow down his own hurt, anger, and wounded pride. ''You've got a scarlet letter,'' he said evenly, meeting her eyes. ''Congratulations. You're just like the rest of us. You want to know what you do now? You stop caring so much about what other people think of you. You stop taking life so damn seriously all of the damn time and enjoy the ride. Go out and dance in public. Make a fool of yourself. Talk in a British accent for a week. Go a day without showering. If the world's gonna watch you, give 'em something to watch. Show them you don't care. You take that scarlet letter and you wear it. Own it. Because that's the hand you've been dealt, Ruby. You don't get another.''
She stared up at him for a moment and then laughed a choked sounding laugh, wiping at her eyes again. ''But is it ever really that easy?''
''No,'' was his honest answer. ''It's not easy at all. It's never easy. But it's life. You do it anyway. You can't let other people boss you around. Hey,'' he nudged her shoulder. ''Don't let the haters get you down. Haven't you ever heard of that?''
A slow smile spread over her lips and she sniffed, wiping at her eyes one last time. She didn't look at him, eyes staring straight ahead like she was watching an invisible screen. They were both silent for a comfortable moment and then she slipped her arm through his, startling him greatly. ''Dean...'' He turned to look at her, all red eyes and dried tears. He still thought she was beautiful. ''She's wrong about us, right? We're good parents?''
''Well, our kids are happy, aren't they?''
''Yes, I think they're all very happy.''
''And they're healthy?''
''Yes.''
''And we do the best we can with what we're given?''
''Always.''
''Then I think we're doing just fine, Ruby.'' He leaned down to kiss her forehead quickly, and then he stood, offering her his hand. ''Now what do you say we get back to the kids? Come on, it's been a long night. Let's take the rugrats for pizza.''
He noted, with a certain careful amount of triumph, that she didn't hesitate like she used to before accepting the hand he offered her. That, my friend, was progress.
''What is REAL?'' asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. ''Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?''
''Real isn't how you are made,'' said the Skin Horse. ''It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.''
''Does it hurt?'' asked the Rabbit.
''Sometimes,'' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ''When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.''
''Does it happen all at once, like being wound up?'' he asked, ''or bit by bit?''
''It doesn't happen all at once,'' said the Skin Horse. ''You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get all loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand.''
- The Velveteen Rabbit (1922)
Later that night, their little tummies full of pizza, Annabelle and Evan got to bed relatively easy. There was very little fighting from Annabelle because she was exhausted and had most likely worn herself out when she threw a tantrum when she was torn away from Dean. She only demanded one and a half stories, which was a big improvement. Evan, although he never resisted bedtime, usually had troubles falling asleep, but tonight he was so tired it was practically lights out as soon as he lay down.
Ruby, however, remained wide awake well into the night. Ruby wasn't a sleeper. She just wasn't good at it. Sleep didn't exactly sound like something that involved skill, but as Ruby had learned from a very early age, it most definitely was. Sleep never came easily to her. She was just like Evan in that aspect. She would toss and turn and have nightmares and she'd wake up every other hour. It frustrated her to no end and frustration wasn't really recommended when you were trying to get to sleep. It had always been like that. When she was pregnant, she blamed it on the aches and pains of pregnancy or the terrible morning sickness or the fact that babies liked to squeeze your bladder. When the kids were babies, she would blame it on their infant sleeping patterns.
She had pretty much diagnosed herself with chronic insomnia. Which meant she did a lot of late night cleaning and watched a lot of late night infomercials and old movies. Tonight was no different. Absently flicking through the channels, Ruby stifled a yawn and slunk farther down into the bed. With the volume turned almost all the way down and some old black and white movie glowing softly on the television, she laid down and tried to let the sound of the boring movie lull her to sleep. Just as she was on the brink of falling into dreamland, her bedroom door creaked open. Her eyes snapped open and she rolled over, catching sight of Evan creeping into the room, looking anxious and apologetic. ''Evan? Baby, what are you doing up?'' She sat up and pulled the covers back to let her son crawl into bed with her, opening her arms for him. ''I thought you were asleep.''
''I, uh...'' He trailed off, sitting down on the bed gingerly and picking at the comforter. ''I can't sleep.''
She smoothed hair away from his forehead, checking for a fever out of instinct. ''Not feeling well?'' She asked gently. ''Did you have too much pizza at dinner? Sweetie, you should never try to keep up with those Winchester boys when it comes to eating.''
''No,'' he shook his head, gaze still lowered to the blankets. ''That's not it. I just...'' He sunk his teeth into his lower lip and when he looked up, his eyes were big and round. ''Mom, I know I'm not supposed to eavesdrop and I swear I didn't mean to, but...I...I heard Dean and Lisa talking about Ben. They said he needs to try harder. They were talking like it was his fault that he's not good in school, but it's not true. Everyone says he just needs to try harder, but he already does. He tries really hard. Mom...'' he looked over his shoulder like he expected his best friend to burst into the room and tell him to keep his mouth shut. ''I need to tell you something. Ben told me not to tell anyone, but I...'' He shook his head. ''I have to tell you.''
He paused, took a deep breath, and then opened his mouth to speak.
''Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?''
''Supposing it didn't,'' said Pooh after a careful thought.
Piglet was comforted by this.
- The House at Pooh Corner (1928)
''You're wrong.''
And with that vehement, adamant, and powerful statement, Dean spun on his heel and stormed away from Ruby, disappearing into his kitchen.
A grunt of frustration bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed it down and chased after him. ''Dean, would you just listen to me?''
''No,'' he all but shouted. ''I won't!'' She huffed at his indignation and walked into the kitchen, watching somewhat anxiously as Dean pulled out a very large, very scary looking knife from a drawer and started to roughly chop something she couldn't see. ''I won't listen to you because you're trying to tell me there's something wrong with my son,'' he growled. He whirled around suddenly, big knife still clenched tightly in his hand. ''There's nothing wrong with my son, Ruby!''
''Dean, God!'' She reeled back. ''Knife! Big knife!''
He glanced at his hand, seemed to startle when he spotted the knife, and sighed heavily, placing it back down on the counter.
She let out a breath. ''Nobody's saying there's something wrong with him.''
''You!'' He jabbed a finger at her, eyes lit up in anger and denial. ''You're saying!''
''No,'' she stated calmly. ''I'm just saying...'' She paused and danced around him to pluck the knife from the counter and move it far, far away. ''All I'm asking you, Dean, is... Have you ever even entertained the idea that Ben might have a learning disorder?''
''No,'' he snarled. ''Because he doesn't.''
''But how would you know that if you've never gotten him tested?'' She asked logically. Aha. Gotcha now, sucker.
''Because I would know!'' He burst out, spreading his arms wide. ''Okay? I would know if he needed...I would know if there was a problem, Ruby. I'm his dad.'' His shoulders seemed to sag in defeat quite suddenly and all of the fight slowly drained out of him, downtrodden eyes looking away from her. ''I would know.''
''Dean...'' She glided over to him, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. ''You know I love Ben. You know that, right?''
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. ''Yeah,'' he muttered hoarsely. ''I know that.''
''Well, from what Evan's told me - ''
''You're going to trust the word of a seven year old?''
''When it's my seven year old, absolutely. That's my job.'' She leaned back against the counter, keeping her hand on his arm. ''Listen, from what Evan's told me, Ben's problems in school aren't because he doesn't try. Evan says he tries really hard. The problem is that he has a hard time understanding things. Basic things. Evan's been helping him as much as he can and Ben made him promise not to tell anyone because he doesn't want anyone to know he's stupid.''
''Then I'll hire a friggin' tutor,'' Dean promised broadly. ''A really fucking expensive one. The best.''
''Good,'' she nodded. ''That's a good start. But I still think you need to get him tested. You need to know the kind of help he needs. You can't just stick him in a room with a pompous tutor and expect him to learn everything in an hour. That's not the way it works.''
Dean silenced and dropped his head into his hands, raking his hands through his hair. ''I...I'll have to run the idea by Lisa first.''
''Of course.'' Ruby frowned at the heartbroken look in Dean's eyes. ''I just want to know that if he needs some extra help, he'll get it.''
He cleared his throat. ''Yeah.''
''You know, Dean, even if Ben does have dyslexia, it's not a death sentence.'' She hopped up on the counter. ''This doesn't have to ruin his life. I mean,'' she paused, biting down on her lip before she let her own secret slip. ''Look at me.''
Dean turned to look at her sharply, lips parting. ''You - ''
''Have dyslexia?'' She nodded. ''Yes. It's why I don't use recipes. I have a hard time understanding them. But it didn't ruin my life, did it? And you know what else, Dean? I can blame my parents for a lot of shitty things in my childhood, but this had nothing to do with them so if you're thinking of blaming yourself, which I know you are, you might as well stop right now.''
Lips turned downwards, Dean leaned back against the counter beside her, rubbing his forehead wearily. ''You really think he could have this?''
''I...think there's a chance,'' she said softly.
''Well, what happens if he does have it?''
''Help him,'' she said simply. ''Patience and understanding are the big things. You can't fault him for not being able to understand some things but you can't baby him either. Your tutoring idea is a good one, but...Dean, because he's so young, the number one thing he'll need if he does have a learning disorder is his dad.''
''And what if they try to stick him in some special class?'' He asked anxiously. ''What if they try to separate him and Evan? You can't say you're not worried about that, Ruby. Evan needs Ben just like Ben needs Evan.''
''I think we'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it,'' she said reasonably. ''If any of that happens, we'll deal. But until then...'' She hopped down from the counter and moved over to him to touch his cheek gently. ''...This is the hand you've been dealt, Dean,'' she whispered in his ear. She pretended she didn't notice the way goosebumps rose on his arm or the way he inhaled sharply because now was not the time for that, but she did take a step away and squeezed his arm instead. ''You don't get another.''
Rapunzel: And the thing is, I'm not scared anymore. You know what I mean?
Flynn Rider: ...I'm starting to.
- Tangled (2010)
end chapter three