+++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pulling into Bobby's after darkness has fallen, Dean lets out a long blowing exhalation, suddenly unsure that he ready to share their precious news. If Benny needs to ask him how he is doing, then Dean might respond 'shaky'. Words are unnecessary. His alpha places a thigh spanning hand and squeezes solidly. Bobby's silhouette is revealed by light pooling through the open garage door. The beta wipes his hands on his overalls before raising an arm to salute the returning hunters.
When they had recovered their senses in Joplin, Dean recharged his cell phone to discover there had been a litany of text messages from Bobby asking for a progress update, where in tarnation they were, and what was with the radio silence. Finally a cussing voicemail relayed that he was headed south. Luckily that message was fresh and Dean had been able to call with apologies to stall Bobby's race to Texas. He had listened to a thankful rant that they weren't ghost chow, before attempting to explain about his heat until Bobby had rapidly forgiven him with added pleading for no intimate details.
Dean stretches his limbs and cracks his spine, patting Baby's flank for getting them safely home. The metal door of the garage screeches as Bobby closes up shop.
"Ya made it." Bobby calls, the few words translate into praise for a job cleanly done.
"Sure did." Benny shouts back, rolling his healing shoulder in an unconscious motion.
"Come on inside," Bobby jerks his head, "I got somethin' lined up for you."
A stone falls into the pit of Dean's stomach. After weeks of snow bound enforced downtime he is speechless at the idea of hunts coming thick and fast with springtime. He glances at his boots. Benny understands. He tucks his mate under his arm and rubs Dean's bicep. A smile is given when Dean's eyes dart to his alpha's face. Putting one foot in front of the other, they make progress. Dean's free hand strays unconsciously to place his palm flat over his lower belly. They've been staying rent free under Bobby's roof, cooking and eating his food, and drawing on his vast brain of lore. Dean counts Bobby as family. His beta mentor would be outraged at the notion of accepting compensation for helping the newly mated couple. It is Dean's own sense of fairness that has rationalized how they balance Bobby's kindness by helping out under the hood of a car or by taking on hunts as needed. But Dean can't and won't hunt while he is pregnant. His pup may only be a cluster of cells but his mind shies away from imagining dire consequences of getting sucker punched by some werewolf or demon. It is against ever fiber of his essential being to place his pup in danger. He grinds his teeth at how he is going to have to let Bobby down. It sucks ass that he is going to inflict disappointment and hassle.
Glancing up he sees Bobby's perplexed stare at how Benny is sheltering Dean, how the young hunter is allowing it, and the tension in Dean's posture.
"Some other FUBAR happen that ya didn't share with the class?" Bobby asks as he precedes them indoors.
Dean sticks limpet-like to Benny who indulges him by not pulling away.
"You wanna take off your coats? Water? Silver?" Bobby's tone belies concern.
Staying close enough for body heat sharing, the mates shuck their outerwear. Dean rolls up his plaid sleeve for Bobby's sharp silver blade. Benny looks like he is going to object to the tiny amount of bloodletting. Dean sets his lips in a firm line. He shakes his head.
Slightly salted holy water swigged by all three, Bobby plants his hip flask onto the kitchen table, leaning against the edge. "You two are as twitchy as a pair of startled deer." Bobby leans forward sniffing at the air surrounding Dean, "And even to my weak beta nose, you Son scent like you've been dunked in a vat of Baskin Robbins."
"Told ya, Sugar, creamy sweet vanilla salt taffy." Benny's eyes almost roll back in bliss.
"And what the hell? Gooey smores?" Bobby exclaims.
"That's it, Bobby," Benny clicks his fingers. "I couldn't pin it in words. Dean's woody smokiness is now campfire smores."
Dean's shoulders hitch in amusement. "I'm gonna have people trying to lick me this summer."
Benny barks a laugh, "No way, Darlin'. I'm the only licker here."
Bobby makes a slow indulgent headshake, "This is all dandy, but why has Dean taken up dousing his body with omega confectionary perfume?"
"Hey, less of the perfume! I'm not drenched in any dumb fake scent." Dean objects. He smirks at Bobby, "Surprised you're so slow on the uptake."
"Well, Young Pup," Bobby snorts, "Only things I know can transform a body like that are certain nasty curses and …" The beta's eyes widen. His jaw drops. "You're not!"
"We are." Benny confirms.
Although Bobby is breaking his cheek muscles with joy, as the beta surges forward, Dean flinches. Bobby quells all the omega's nerves by sweeping him into a back clapping bear hug.
"Dean," Bobby's voice is choked, "I'm so Godamned happy for ya."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean manages to mutter.
Bobby draws back rapidly, holding on to upper arms and searching his face. He pulls Dean slightly to the left out of Benny's direct gaze. "That is right, ain't it? We are happy about this?"
"Yeah," Dean wheezes. He taps his forehead, "Freaking awesome but not sunk all the way in yet."
"I can imagine," Bobby huffs. "Hell, just two minutes ago you and Sammy were pups running round here getting under my feet."
A watery smile graces that comment. Dean knows gruff affectionate memory sharing is Bobby's way of imparting approval and familial love. It is the mention of Sammy that cuts deep. Sam never responded to the news of his mating to Benny, and now Dean cannot imagine how to begin a 'you're going to be an uncle' conversation.
"You OK?" Benny picks up on the stew inside his mate.
"Just y'know…" Dean's voice trails away. He does not want to open that can of worms. An expert at flipping topics away from things he wants to repress, Dean braves having to refuse Bobby's hunt. "Hey, Bobby, what news did you wanna share with us?"
"Nothing to compare with your welcome shocker." Bobby is still shaking his head a measure, "Dean and a pup. I can't believe it, but I can see you with your own babe. The way you were only a pup yourself and you raised…"
Another Sam reminisce might just undo him.
"Why don't we get our stuff from the trunk and you can fill us in?"
"Sure thing." Bobby acquiesces. "I'll heat up some thick warming soup for ya both. Bet you've only been eating out of crappy diners since you left and you've got a passenger onboard now, Son."
"I'll get 'em." Benny makes to head out. "Let me do the heavy lifting, Darlin'."
His wafting newly-with-pup pheromones are nature's way of driving his mate, and any other decent folks, to protect and cherish. His scent will gradually fade in intensity over the next couple of weeks, yet remain campfire cum Dairy Queen Sundae sweetness until their pup is born. No way is Benny getting away with putting Dean in a glass box for his pregnancy. Being overruled at the suggestion of trying a hustle at a roadhouse on the way north was reasonable, but being cosseted and fussed over for nine months needs to be nipped in the bud.
"Seriously?" Dean adopts stink-eyes. "It's a couple duffels, Alpha."
Benny pauses, conflicted enough that one foot points towards outside and the other hovers towards his mate.
Dean huffs, "I promise faithfully that if we need to look at the Impala's undercarriage without a jack you can try out being The Hulk all on your lonesome."
Benny's laugh and Bobby's side whisper of "Idjits" make Dean's lips curve upwards.
His mate hold out a hand for Dean to take, "Remind me if I'm verging on crazy expectant alpha-dad."
"Hell, Alpha, I'll have to root out that old Dictaphone I saw in Bobby's desk and make a recording."
"Cheeky," Benny retorts, using his free hand to lightly swat Dean's butt.
"That's me," Dean chortles, swinging their arms and pulling his alpha out the door.
As they carry their bags in, Dean's stomach betrays his hunger with a fresh rumble. His nose fills with the aroma of warming chunky vegetable broth. "Don't tell me Bobby's gonna be a vegetable Nazi."
"It'll all be fine, Sugar," Benny reassures with a suspicious saccharine beam, "I got a bible of greens disguising recipes for ya."
"Save me!" Dean shouts playfully. "They better not include adulterating blessed pie with freaking peas and okra and slimy lettuce."
Benny can't contain his mirth, "Thought you liked a pumpkin pie, and you ate that carrot cake with creamy frosting."
"Don't count, Alpha. They tasted awesome."
"Case proven." Benny fist pumps for the win.
"Frickin' underhand tactics." Dean grumbles sorely, but gets over it when Benny pulls him onto Bobby's old sofa to sit comfortably tight together.
"Suppose you doggone idjits are gonna be surgically attached now?" Bobby raises his eyes to Heaven. He hands Benny a beer and Dean a glass of cloudy apple juice.
"Something like that," Benny says proudly.
Bobby raises his bottle, "Congratulations."
They clink glass in toast.
Dean's hand finds a home at his belt buckle. "Thanks Bobby. I'm real sorry we're not gonna be taking that hunt you've lined up."
"Huh?" Bobby squints. "You got me wrong, Dean. There isn't a hunt, though there could be ones you'd like to pass on if things work out, but that's not what I've lined up."
Benny looks at Dean for inspiration but the omega is just as stumped as his mate.
Over soup and thick sliced bread, Bobby lays out the scheme he has been concocting in their absence.
Gesturing with his spoon, the beta begins. "New mates and all, they need their own space, specially an alpha."
"Don't want you thinking we've been unhappy here." Benny butts in. "You've given Dean and I our first home as mates."
Dean glows with satisfaction that his mate has spoken both their feelings.
"Maybe in light of a new pup coming into the world, you may have a different reaction, but hear out my proposal and then you boys can stew it over in your grapefruits." Bobby glances at them both in turn. On receiving nods he continues. "I'm not kicking you out. You hear that Dean? No-one is kicking anyone out."
"I hear ya." Dean intones. His curiosity is piqued. Soup is almost forgotten until Benny head jerks towards the omega's quarter full bowl.
"I know of a cabin available to hunters."
"But with Dean…" Benny begins to say they are not hunting. Bobby's raised palm stalls his flow.
"Y'don't havta be active on the job for this place, but it is there for you, and if you go I expect regular contact and mutual dropping in on our doorsteps."
"Where is it?" Dean asks with his mouth full. Luckily Bobby is fluent in Dean-with-food.
"Over in Idaho. Few miles south of Montpelier. You heard of Bear Lake, North end of the Wasatch range?"
It rings a dull bell in Dean's noggin. He mentally reckons it to be a full long day at the wheel, or maybe an overnight distance with a pup on board. "Think we cut through there a couple years ago on the way to a haunting in Rock Springs." He rubs his temple for the memory, "Seemed familiar then. I've a feeling Dad might have worked a case in the Caribou forest, long time ago, like '87-ish. But I'm certain we had a crappy motel not a cabin."
"Well, Harry woulda been alive and kicking then, and John don't work so well with other hunters, especially alphas. You never heard of Harry Mason?"
Dean gives a firm headshake. That name draws a blank.
Bobby leans back in his chair. "Harry Mason, old curmudgeon of an alpha, hunter since God was a child. Dodger ticker did him in. His only pup, Alice, resides with her mate in some la-di-la retirement community in the Sunshine State. She's never been a hunter. Harry forbade it when she was young and wild, but she knows what is out there. She turned up on my porch one sunny day back in 1999, spare keys to the cabin swinging between her fingers. Once Harry got too arthritic to participate in the action, word spread that he'd offer shelter and aid to any hunter who'd make their way to his home. Alice wanted that to continue. She picked a few of those in her late father's confidence to let it be known that the cabin remained available as sanctuary."
"Like a provisioned wilderness cabin for hikers in trouble?" Benny hums.
"Same theme, different story." Bobby confirms. "When Harry was alive, he was the contact, the Idaho touchstone for hunters in the know."
Dean raises a doubting brow, "You telling us that there's a hunters' network that've parceled up The States?"
"No. Idjit. Though," Bobby concedes, "there are some territorial alpha knotheads out there who don't want other hunters on their patch."
Dean remembers John exchanging fisticuffs when they encountered other hunting alphas. It was rare that his Dad would end up working in partnership with the other hunter. Perhaps rather than John's unique personality causing problems, it had been a turf war issue.
Bobby elaborates, "I mean if I can't get to Iowa or Wisconsin, I can call up Jim in Blue Earth and he'll take the case or give it to some dude he trusts. Same deal with Jefferson down in Tucson if he is at his home base and not hunting on the opposite side of the country. There's a grumpy so-and-so got a cabin in Whitefish, Montana too, but you could say since Mason kicked the bucket there's a void."
"And this senior beta lady's doing the lambda at the notion of us living in her old Dad's place?" Dean wishes he did not have the propensity to look a gift horse in the mouth, but in his experience there is always a catch.
"I mighta been my suave persuasive self and suggested the benefits of a more permanent presence who could manage the upkeep and any repairs to her old home." Bobby smirks.
"Ah-ha, did you?" Dean nods appreciatively.
"So this is all kosher?" Benny plunks an elbow on the table between their empty dishes. "What's the deal?"
"Mason would give a bed to a hunter in need, let them hide out with him, and in his younger days join a hunt that needed an extra hand. My old partner used his knowledge and experience back in the day." Bobby glues his gaze on Benny, "Your side of the deal is continuing the tradition. That means you got an omega about to pup, or said pup wailing its newborn heart out, and a wounded hunter knocks on your door. You dampen down your Alpha, and let them into your home. You allow your vulnerable omega to use his emergency first aid knowledge, and you let a strange alpha who lives a life of violence to sleep under same roof as your family, and Benny Lafitte, if you think you cannot do that, then tell me to shut my mouth right now."
Benny goes rigid in his seat. His scent spikes burned spice. Dean doesn't say a word as he watches the wheels turn in his alpha's brain, but he does slide his hand up and down the plane of Benny's shoulder blade. Bobby drains his beer while they wait, only moments but those seconds tick slowly.
Benny's hand curves around Dean's waist, pulling him closer, so the omega needs to scoot his chair nearer. "I mated Dean with my eyes open. My beloved omega is a hunter. More than that he is an amazing person who would never refuse help to someone in need, no matter where we are. The situation you describe is more probable if we…" Benny pauses. "It's not a deal breaker. But, Bobby, if my mate, or our pup, are ever under threat then all bets are off."
"I would expect nothing less." Bobby huffs in satisfaction. He cocks his head to Dean. "Decent alpha you got there, Pup."
"Yeah," Dean agrees with a softly expelled breath, wowed at hearing his alpha's high opinion of him.
Bobby nods. He pulls a ring with three keys from his pocket. "Day Alice stopped by, she also gave me the key to her Daddy's lock up in Montpelier."
Dean whistles thinking of what the old alpha could have squirreled away.
"Calm down Dean. It's not going to be a dragon hoard of gold, but Mason had a decent library. I'll give you the key and come out there to help catalog it when you are settled. Alice is good people. I doubt she'll give you any grief from all the way down in Florida, and the structure was sound the last time I used it overnight 'bout 18 months ago."
"When do you want us to go?" Dean asks.
Bobby narrows his eyes at Dean's tensed up posture. "Did you hear the part about not kicking your asses out? Don't you let your gnarly brain fix on that motivation. If you hate the sound of it, or don't like the fricking place if you give it a try, you'll be more than welcome to stay on here."
"We'd like to think on it." Benny hums.
"What Alpha said." Dean concurs. "But you've opened a whole IMAX screen of possibility we never considered."
"Good. Job done." Bobby says just as one of his FBI phones starts up.
Dean clears away their leavings. Benny heads for their room once he obtains a kiss and a promise for Dean to follow him up.
Up to his elbows in suds, washing their soup bowls, Bobby surprises Dean.
"You going to tell Sam?"
The bowl slips from his grip into the basin. Dean keeps his back turned. "Don't think he wants to know."
"You kidding me? That pup worships the ground you walk on."
With a hushed tone and a tight throat Dean confesses, "Not anymore, Bobby."
"Don't be so sure, Son."
"He left. Okay?" Dean's shoulders shake, not with grief but with hurt anger.
"He's in Stanford, not on the fricking moon." Bobby huffs. "I'm damned certain he'd want to know."
"I'm not." Dean mutters, beseeching any higher power tuned into his brainwaves for Bobby to drop it.
"You want I could…"
"I'll consider it." Dean tells the faucet, hoping that ends the discussion. "Good talk, Bobby."
The final dishes get the most cursory of cleaning. Dean needs Benny. He knows Bobby didn't mean to cause him turmoil, but he can't stay in the kitchen. He bolts to their room, finding Benny with only a towel wrapped round his waist.
"Need you, Alpha." Dean chokes.
Benny opens his arms.
It is like manna from Heaven to be enclosed in his alpha's embrace. To allow his mate to cradle his head, plant kisses to his closed eyelids, his cheekbones, his nose.
"One day I'm agonna kiss each one of your freckles in one session."
The lovingly said whisper breaks through. Dean laughs lightly, cupping his alpha's cheek and reaching to taste his lips. The towel soon disappears along with Dean's clothes. That night they press skin on skin, slowly finding a rhythm of easy lovemaking, mutual contentment and shared heat under layers of blankets.
Dawn finds Dean draped over his mate. He curls to a comfortable position. Benny hums a morning greeting. Dean shuffles to join foreheads, their proto-pup sheltered between their spines. Slow lazy waking leads to being propped together on pillows.
"What'd'ya think?" Dean asks without having to spell it out.
Benny plants weight on his elbow. "I like the idea of our own home. Might not be forever permanent but it'd be somewhere to start out as mates and parents." His fingers trace Dean's knuckles. "What about you? Mon Cher, what do you think?"
"I'll miss Bobby, but I like the idea of our own nest." Dean admits.
"Our nest?"
"Sue me. I'm with pup. Nesting's important." Dean fake-bristles.
"So I've been told, Sugar." Benny can barely keep a straight face. "Do you want to head on a road trip to check the place out?"
"I don't know," Dean muses. "Bobby's given it his seal of approval. We could go straight to giving it a trial run. Camp out there for a few weeks, test the waters? Lots of times growing up, Dad would take a short term rental, find a squat for us, or we'd end up in a cabin somewhere in the backwoods." He huffs, "Probably available to other hunters like Harry Mason's or the Reeves family's one on Gauntlet. I know how to make the best of any shelter, make it livable for my alphas."
"Shush, Mon Cher, I hope we are aiming a lot higher than livable."
Dean drags his thoughts out of memory lane, "'Course Alpha. I didn't mean to presume…"
Benny clicks his tongue, "I wish I'd clocked your Daddy a harder hit. You are with me now, Sugar. You presume, fantasize, dream any damned thing you want, and together we'll do our best to make it happen."
Dean's jaw drops.
"Darlin', we'll do it your way, pack up our stuff and give it a chance."
Dean hadn't known he wanted their own home so badly, or that he had been metaphorically holding his breath for his alpha's approval, until he flings his arms around Benny's neck and presses thank you caresses.
Moving to Idaho isn't quite as simple as throwing all their belongings into Baby and hitting the road. They set the last week of the month as their moving date.
Time flies by. There is a trip to the omega clinic at Sioux Falls General but it is too early for anything more than medical confirmation of Dean's pregnancy and instructions to dose up on suitable omega vitamin complexes. Dean suffers an incident of Foot-In-Mouth when he tells his concerned young beta intern that his alpha kept him on beta maskers and sups for almost ten years. He has to quickly backtrack and clarify that the alpha in question was his father, before the doctor calls in social workers and has horrified Benny forcibly removed from the premises. When everyone calms the freak down, which involves a few minutes of private time in their cubicle with Benny scenting his neck, collar and claiming bite, the doctor runs a few supplementary blood tests on the side of caution but assures Dean that the fact that he is with pup means it is unlikely that following John's orders caused any lasting damage. It still takes repeated reassurance from Benny and a stop for hot cherry pie for the little voice in Dean's head to cease its mantra of guilt that he could have harmed his pup. It is a relief when the bloodwork comes back confirming that Dean is peachy, save for a moderate calcium deficiency - a typical side effect of prolonged sups usage. He is given a diet sheet and another tub of vitamin/mineral complex. As he pops the meds with his evening meal, and consumes the disgraceful amount of vegetables his alpha is insisting on feeding him, Dean reckons it is not so bad. Taking these meds is not a chore but an honor that makes him rub discreet circles on his flat belly and mentally whisper to his pup that Papa is taking care of him or her.
They spend time going through Bobby's upstairs rooms for household items the beta doesn't need or plain forgot about. With a melancholy air Bobby gifts Karen's carefully boxed baking accoutrements and her folded stored favorite bed linens. If Bobby takes off for a long drive on the clear breezy day that Dean airs out the linens, then wisely nobody says a word.
Alice emails a few scanned old photos of the cabin. The solid log build meets Dean's approval. A single window in the eaves above the front porch touches his inner nesting instinct, imagining creating a home for his pup in the room behind that glass. The internal pictures are of a decent sized family room and an orange and brown patterned sixties style kitchen. Understandably the beta wishes to speak to them before everything is a done deal. As Bobby puts his phone on speaker and dials her home number, Dean is so nervous his palms are damp and he stutters over his greeting. Alice is wise to the supernatural. She expresses her pleasure that Bobby found a young couple to occupy the legacy her father left to the hunting community. She is a tad old fashioned and addresses most of her conversation to Benny or Bobby, but Dean gives her a pass. The retired beta is providing them with a place to live in exchange for honoring her alpha father's memory and doing any necessary repairs to her property. She is happy for them to decorate and adjust the cabin to their needs. Bobby claps Dean on the shoulder after the call. With a gruff chuckle he warns them not to become enthusiastic gardeners. Digging too deep in the cabin's yard might uncover unpleasant evidence hidden by previous hunters. That night in his sleep Benny mutters about raised beds and planting under cloches. It makes the omega snuggle closer and cook up dastardly plans to foil evil vegetable harvesting with pie-suitable berry bushes.
The plan is for Bobby to follow the Impala in his pick-up. All the duffels, linens and Benny's kitchenware will pack into the trunk and backseat of the Chevy. Bobby is transporting anything heavier, like tools, sacks of rock salt, and a freaking nest of tables that had been in the basement. On their last Saturday in Sioux Falls, Dean gets suspicious that Bobby has got something up his sleeve. The hunter is particularly ornery and spends most of the morning checking his phones or searching for a tome on demon lore he had promised to show another hunter.
"It hasn't rung since the last time you checked." Dean huffs amusedly from his spot at the table cleaning and oiling his guns. Just because hunting is off the menu doesn't mean he is going to stop taking care of his shit. No one knows better than a Winchester how heinous things can invade a home and destroy a family.
"I dunno what you're talking about." Bobby grumbles.
"Alpha! Alpha!" Dean calls.
"What Darlin'?" Benny's voice drifts in from the hallway where he is taping up their few boxes of possessions.
"Bobby's checked if his lady-friend's texted him again." Dean jests before breaking into a musical trill of laughter.
"You listen here, Pup," Bobby starts, rising to his feet.
There is the sound of a powerful engine with an attached bouncing trailer entering Singer Salvage.
"Ha!" Bobby clicks his tongue. "Reinforcements."
"Huh?" Dean draws his brows tight. He follows Bobby to the door, beckoning his alpha to accompany them.
A whirl of shorn hair and plaid with an added blur of black God-uniform barrel into Dean. His brain catches up to identify a Caleb-hug and a Pastor Jim Murphy back-clapping blessing.
Benny leans against Dean's back. A hand weaves around his waist. The alpha preacher hugged Benny's omega mate without an acknowledgement or a glance seeking permission. Dean is real proud of his alpha's self-control. It must have taken a lot to restrain his growling instincts when an unbonded alpha touched his pregnant mate, even if Jim is virtually family and a man of the cloth.
"Hello freaking amateurs and idjits," Bobby throws his eyes up. "Y'test 'em first."
"Who are you calling amateur, Beta Singer?" Pastor Jim shakes his head, "Look how students turn on their teachers."
"Teachers smeachers," Bobby snorts. "Thought you were coming for the Slavic Anti-Gospel."
"Sure we were, Bobby," Caleb chuckles, "Nothin' to do with the best omega hunter on the planet getting claimed and taking over old Mason's cabin."
Dean clears his throat. "Before Bobby dumps a bucket of iced holy water over your heads, Pastor Jim, Caleb, this here is my alpha, Benny Lafitte."
"Pleased to meetcha," Caleb shakes Benny's offered hand. "You snagged one of the good ones."
"I know it." Benny grins. "And if I forget he'll remind me he is adorable."
"Hey! I do not." Dean swats his alpha's bicep in protest at the tease.
"I pray your union will be much blessed." Jim covers Benny's hand with both of his to offer an earnest handshake. The reverend alpha smiles kindly towards Dean. "May I say that you have a very fine collar, Dean? I find that care in choosing the right symbols of a new mating reflects well on those joining their lives together."
Dean preens under the praise and blessing. He remembers how kind and caring Alpha Jim had always been on the occasions he and Sam had been dumped at the parochial house. The Pastor was a confirmed bachelor for The Lord not used to young pups tearing around his chapel. Then there was the occasion when teenage Dean, during his first year on sups, had stolen a bottle of communion wine. The look of disappointment on Jim's face had been enough to break the rebellious omega's heart and sober him up quick smart. John had never heard a whisper of the incident.
"Alpha and I picked my collar together. This was my favorite." Dean ducks his eyes, warmed by the memory of that day back in Maine.
"It's handsome." Caleb concurs. "I got a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue for the new mates. How about we crack it open to celebrate?"
Dean swallows hard. He blindly finds his alpha's fingers to pull on. "Y'see, thing is, Alpha and me, we've kinda been blessed already. I'm with pup."
"Dean!" Caleb beams at them.
"Magnificent!" Pastor Jim proclaims.
There is another round of hugging before Bobby finally gets to do his hunter checks. They are dragged back out into the chill to view the contents of Caleb's tarp covered trailer.
Before the reveal, Caleb takes point like a stage magician's assistant ready to whip away the tarp. "Kipped for a few hours at Bear Lake last Fall. Dudes, the sofa was rank."
Dean's eyes go out on stalks.
"Like some fucking douche had drunk his way to spewing and pissin' all over it."
"So graphic." Jim deadpans. Everyone grins knowing the reverend is no shrinking violet.
"Me and Travis, we dragged it out to the curb. Least we could do for the next crew using the cabin to shelter." Caleb smirks, "To cut a long story short, Jim's a miracle worker."
"It's called parish aid." Jim corrects. "We take donations, some for rummage sales, some to pass on to young families in need, and it sounded to me like my favorite omega hunter needed some seating for his new nest."
Dean blinks at his friends, "I can't accept your parish…"
"You can." Jim insists with a firm alpha tone.
"This is mighty fine of you." Benny responds.
"That's a mighty fine mate you have." Jim imbues his simple words with a modicum of protective threat.
"Yes Sir." Benny tilts his head ever so slightly, submitting on this single issue to the older alpha.
Flattered and unsure what to do about it, Dean interrupts, "Alpha Face Off all done? Good. Caleb, show us the goods!"
The beta flings the tarp with the drama of a matador. Underneath is a matching three piece set. Two deep armchairs and a wooden framed long sofa upholstered in charcoal gray cord. The armrests are a bit frayed but with some clever patchwork, Dean figures they will get years out of the behemoth seating.
Bobby, Caleb and Jim enjoy reliving their top secret planning when they are back indoors consuming hot coffees and freshly baked ginger cookies, which Benny manages to conjure out of virtually nowhere. Jim has a deacon assisting him but he needs to be back in Blue Earth for his parish's later morning ceremonies on Sunday. They are leaving Caleb's trailer to hitch onto the back of Bobby's truck. Bobby will rendezvous with the younger beta later to return it.
Caleb wants to hear every detail of the case on Gauntlet. He has never met Sheriff Bryson or his son, as it has been a few years since he set foot on the isle, but he knows some of the other residents. Somehow the tale of the Angiak gets turned round to Benny giving news on Mac's family, Antoinette, Jonah, Geoff, Simone and others.
Over shared giant pizzas, through sneaky subtle directing of their conversation, Caleb and Jim get Benny and Dean to relate the tale of their meeting (edited for decency), the hunt and their mating. Caleb fumes about the motherfucking shitheads at The Lookout. Pastor Jim promises to include Phoenix and Rowan in his prayers.
Bobby and Jim find the book that the alpha wanted, which leads to a discussion on possession and exorcisms. Benny is riveted by Jim's demon knowledge. Dean finds their talk pretty educational too. He makes a mental note to plant a circle of salt around the cabin's perimeter. Caleb enthuses about a delivery of high grade steel blades he is due. Dean and he engage in a debate about machetes versus Bowie knives. When Benny chips in how naturally Dean carries his Bowie, the omega feels like he has won no matter what Caleb says.
It is late when they hit the hay, but Dean and Benny make sure to rise early on Sunday. They work together to produce a breakfast spread including pancakes, crispy bacon and wheat toast. It is much appreciated and consumed down the last sliver of tasty pork rind, which Dean pops into his mouth before his alpha's health kick rears its head.
They wave off their friends with accepted invitations to come to Idaho once the Lafittes are settled. Jim tells them to expect more visits once their pup enters the world, before taking the shotgun seat in Caleb's SUV. A satisfied glow keeps Dean's spirits up as he watches their departure. Bobby heads into Sioux Falls for supplies. Dean repeats his request for driving snacks and pie. He can almost hear Bobby's silent retort about bottomless stomachs.
When the kitchen is gleaming to chef standards, the mates take a long refreshing shower together, during which Dean decides that having his hair carefully washed by his alpha ranks high on his awesomeness scale.
Benny is trimming his beard. Freshly clad in his favorite Zep tee under a heavy flannel shirt, Dean is making minor adjustments to how his collar sits, when a loud demanding knock sounds. With a huff of mild annoyance at the interruption, he slips his pearl handled colt into his waistband. It is unlikely to be a weekend salvage yard emergency. The urgent battering of the door suggests it is either a hunting acquaintance of Bobby's, or Caleb and Jim returning for something they forgot, making them late for the pastor's duties.
Dean flies down the stairs, two steps at a time, wooly socks slip sliding so he has to skim the railing with his hand. He reaches back to check his piece, shouting out "Hold your freaking horses."
One glance confirms the salt line is pristine. He flings the door open and freezes.
Fist up to knock again, stands Dean's freakishly tall, floppy haired, and hoodie wearing alpha brother.