Back-to-back flu, head cold, stomach bug, my body is fucked but here's another chapter I've been messing with. It's super long but I did not want to break it up so I hope you enjoy. Plus I'm in the holiday spirit haha.
On with the show!
A/N: Just wanted to issue a quick TW. There is a scene where John comments swatting a child. It is relevant to the moment, but will not be recurring in the story. I just wanted a moment to highlight the parenting differences between him and Dean. If you wish to scroll past, I will put in asterisks before and after.
The tradition of pancakes on Sunday mornings had continued. Dean would come over for breakfast and then hang out, help out around the house, annoy the fuck out of Sam. You know, the usual. Lisa and Ben were staying with him again so today he brought them over for pancakes and decorating the house for Christmas. Mary and Lisa took shop in the living room, digging through boxes John and Sam grabbed from the garage the night before.
"Dean!" John yelled, throwing open the door leading to the garage. "Get out here! We're burning daylight!"
"Dad, I said I was helping Ben into Sam's old snowsuit first," Dean said annoyed as he skipped down the stairs, Ben excitedly running after him.
"How's it fit?" Mary asked, happy to see her sons' old clothes being used. She missed the days when Dean dressed him in their old baby clothes and was very glad to know she could continue to give him hand-me-downs.
Ben did a quick spin in the living room, showing off the outfit. "It's good!" he said.
"What do we say?" Dean asked.
"Thank you, Grandma!" Ben said, smiling wide.
"Ben, I hope you went potty before putting that on," Lisa said.
Ben's face immediately turned red, almost matching the color of the snowsuit. "Mom!" he whined, stomping his foot.
"Don't worry about it, bud. Maybe today's the day you learn how to write your name in the snow," Dean teased playfully.
"Dean Winchester, don't you fucking dare!" Lisa yelled after him.
Dean just cackled as he and Ben went out to the garage, closing the door behind them.
"I don't know how you raised two boys, Mary," Lisa said once they were alone.
Mary laughed. "I don't either." She opened a box of ornaments and carried it over to the tree. "But Ben's at a fun age when they start finding new hobbies and interests."
"I know," Lisa sighed, "I just wish he was still little sometimes. And not acting stupid or getting into trouble."
As if rehearsed, Mary watched as Sam started to slowly come down the stairs, still in his pajamas. "Yeah, I know what that feeling's like," she said to Lisa. Turning back to Sam, she said: "Hi honey. We missed you at breakfast."
Sam rubbed his face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was up late."
Mary frowned. "Maybe you should go see that doctor I told you about. See why you keep having trouble sleeping."
"Mom!" Sam snapped, not wanting to have this conversation in front of his... whatever Lisa is to him.
Lisa found it funny; the resemblance between Mary and Sam and her and Ben. Moms gonna Mom.
"There's leftover pancakes in the freezer," Mary added, changing the subject. "Hopefully your brother and nephew didn't use up all the syrup."
"I'm not hungry," Sam said, sitting on the couch and continuing to mope.
"Are you planning on helping them outside?" Mary asked.
"Nope."
"Good." She tossed a pile of stockings at him. "You can help us in here."
Realizing that was not a suggestion, Sam gathered the stockings and stood up. He walked over to the fireplace and hung them on hooks John had installed over twenty years ago.
"Mary, why is there a blank one?" Lisa asked, pulling a small stocking out from the bottom of the bag. It slightly resembled the others, but the trim on the top was wavy instead of straight across.
"Aww," Mary said, "I think this was one Dean picked out when Ben was little. The boys used to decorate stockings when they were little and I think he was hoping Ben would do the same."
Lisa dug deeper into the box, finding other stockings Sam and Dean made throughout the years. Nothing said Christmas stockings like glitter, puff paint, and stick figure families.
"The boys didn't like them as teenagers. I think they were embarrassed by them," Mary continued to explain. "So I splurged and bought a whole new matching set one year and we've been using those ever since."
"Nice," Lisa commented with a smile. She pulled out one of the smallest stockings she had ever seen. 'Dean 1983' was written on the back in a permanent marker. On the front were two big stick figures, one small stick figure, and an even smaller stick figure that looked like it had been smudged.
"I remember when he made that one," Mary said, seeing the stocking in Lisa's hands and feeling nostalgic. "It was our first Christmas in the house after our other one burned in a fire. Dean was frustrated that he couldn't figure out how to make a baby out of puff paint, so John had to do it for him."
"I didn't actually look like that as a baby, right?" Sam said, coming up behind the two ladies.
Mary laughed. "No. Your father accidentally smudged it while it was drying. And then Dean screamed his little head off saying your first Christmas was ruined."
Lisa pocketed the small stocking, thinking it could be fun to show Dean later. Mary closed the box of stockings and pushed it to the side. "Let's decorate a tree now, huh?" she said, moving onto the box of ornaments on the floor. "Sam can help us with the ones we can't reach."
"Alright Ben, what do you know about decorating a house?" John asked as soon as the two came out to the garage.
"Nothing."
"Wanna learn?"
Ben excitedly nodded yes.
"Well, come on then," John gestured to the ladder in the driveway. "Hop on up here. You can help us hang the first set of lights."
"Dad, I don't know," Dean said reluctantly. "He's too small to be on a ladder."
John waved him off. "He's no smaller than you or your brother were. And we're right here with him."
Dean sighed, holding onto one side of the ladder to keep it sturdy. John grabbed the other side. As Ben started to slowly ascend the ladder, Dean kept one hand on his back.
"Not too high Ben," Dean warned, "stop on the fifth step, okay?"
Ben climbed to the fifth step and stopped.
"You see that nail in front of your face?" John asked. Ben nodded. John handed him a part of the strand of lights. "Wrap this around it."
As gently as Ben could, he took the lights and wrapped them around the nail. It was a little challenging with his mittens on, but he succeeded. "Got it!" he announced excitedly. To avoid Ben potentially falling off the ladder, Dean grabbed him around the waist and set him on the ground. John rolled his eyes at his son being so cautious. "That was fun!" Ben said, jumping up and down.
"I'm glad you thought so," John said playfully, "because we have to do the same thing all along the garage door."
Much to Dean's dismay, the trio slowly made their way along the garage door. Dean dragged the ladder and then Ben climbed up and hung the next section of lights John would hand him. Luckily for Dean, Ben was bored by the time they finished the garage door. He ran off to play in the snow in the front yard while the two finished around the house; this time Dean climbed the ladder as John continued passing out strands of lights.
"Ben!" Lisa called from inside the house. "It's time to get cleaned up!"
"Aww," Ben started to whine.
Knowing where this was going, Dean tried to think of how he could help. "Go on Ben. I'm sure it's nice and warm inside."
"No!" Ben screamed. He crossed his arms and pouted. "I wanna stay out here!"
"Ben!" Lisa called again, coming out to the edge of the garage. "Come on! Mary's making hot chocolate."
"I said no!" Ben continued to scream. "I'm still working on a snowman."
Neither of them had the heart to even mention that Frosty wouldn't survive the snowplow coming later that night. "Benjamin, you need to listen to your mother and go get cleaned up," Dean finally snapped.
"But-"
"Now Benjamin," Lisa added sternly.
Ben started to cry as he ran past his parents. He already got two full Benjamins; he did not want a third.
*** BEGIN OF TW ***
*** BEGIN OF TW ***
*** BEGIN OF TW ***
"Should have swatted that kid after that first no," John commented after Ben and Lisa had gone back into the house.
Dean was flabbergasted at the off-handed suggestion. "What the fuck!?" he asked, horrified. "Why would you even say that?"
John just shrugged. "Worked on you and your brother. You two never behaved like that ever again."
"Dad, no one hits their kids anymore," Dean tried his best to reason.
"It's not hitting," John explained, "it's reprimanding and teaching the kid not to act out or talk back."
*** END OF TW ***
*** END OF TW ***
*** END OF TW ***
Yeah and how's that going for you? Dean wanted so badly to ask. Instead, he said, "I'm going to go check on Ben." as he hopped off the ladder and went inside the house.
"Ben!" Mary called from the kitchen, unaware of the tantrum he just threw in the front yard. "Hot chocolate's ready!"
She and Sam watched as Ben ran past them up the stairs, still dramatically crying, followed by what sounded like Dean's old bedroom door slamming shut.
"Thank you, Mary," Lisa said, following in right behind him, "but Ben will not be getting any hot chocolate."
Mary and Sam continued to watch from the kitchen; Mary was slightly worried and Sam was trying not to show that he was sorta kinda enjoying this. It was like watching your sibling get into trouble. There was a second door slam, followed by a second of Ben screaming.
"Ah, I do not miss those days," Mary said, suddenly understanding exactly what was happening. She set a mug of hot chocolate on the counter in front of her son. Sam happily took the drink and started to mix in far too many mini marshmallows.
Dean suddenly came into the kitchen in a huff. "Sam, if you ever have kids, do not take parenting advice from Dad."
"Okay?" Sam agreed, very confused about what his brother could mean by that. Dean took off upstairs, slamming the bedroom door a third time. Sam spun around and faced his mom. "Spoke too soon?" he joked.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Shut up and drink your hot chocolate."
Once everything had calmed down, the rest of the day was lovely. Sam sat on the couch watching TV while Lisa and Ben sat on the floor around the coffee table. When Mary showed Ben the old art supplies, Ben was thrilled to make a stocking he could keep and hang at his grandparents' house. Course, in his seven-year-old mind, that just meant he would get more than one stocking of presents for Christmas.
"Hey," a freshly showered Dean said, coming into the room. "What's going on in here?"
"Dad! Look!" Ben said gleefully, holding up the stocking for him to see.
"Whoa! That looks good dude." He took a seat next to Lisa. "Watch the paint. Don't let it get on your clothes."
Lisa took this moment to pull out the stocking she pocketed earlier. "Remember this?"
Dean busted out laughing. "Oh my god, please tell me she did not show you that!"
"She didn't," Lisa laughed back, "I found it."
Sam smirked on the couch. "Mom said you were pissed when Dad ruined it."
"That's cause she's the only one who thought you were cute," Dean retorted back. "I think it's fairly accurate. You look like a smudge."
Sam picked up one of the couch throw pillows and chucked it at the back of Dean's head. Lisa set the stocking aside and the two turned their attention back to helping Ben decorate the stocking. Not wanting to be third-wheeling on a family moment, Sam shut off the TV and slipped out of the room.
"Look what I have," he heard his dad say playfully.
"Oh god, what is that?" he heard his mom ask.
"Mistletoe," John teased. "You know what that means right?"
Sam stuck his head around the corner into the kitchen. He watched as his mom kissed his dad while he held a piece of mistletoe in the air.
"Still got it, don't I?" John asked after pulling away, causing Mary to laugh sweetly.
"Sometimes," she joked.
Gross. But also adorable.
Sam was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion. He looked back and forth between Dean and Lisa in the living room and his parents in the kitchen and couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Feeling his eyes get wet, Sam snuck upstairs. He tried to blink the tears away, but they just kept coming. He went into his room and gently latched the door behind him. He tried to muffle a sob with his hand. He hoped no one heard him, not wanting to ruin the good day everyone else had been having. No matter how hard he tried to cover it up, he just couldn't ignore the growing empty ache in his chest.
It had been six weeks today since Jess died. And it was the longest six weeks of Sam's life. He thought he was doing better, except for the constant nightmares. He hadn't even cried or thought of Jess for a while now. And while Sam felt guilty for admitting that to himself, he thought that was a normal thing with grieving, that it had been a sign he was finally moving on.
"Sam!" he heard his brother call from downstairs. He sniffled and quickly started to wipe his face with his long sleeves. Footsteps came up the stairs and stopped in the hall. "Cookies are done if you want any."
Sam started to get frustrated as he continued to cry. He ran his sleeves along his face aggressively but the tears just kept coming.
Not hearing a response, Dean walked closer to the door. "Sam?" he called again, quieter this time. "Are you in there?"
Yes! Sam wanted to choke out. I'll be down in a minute! But he couldn't find the words. Couldn't get them out. Couldn't move his vocal cords and mouth to even form them.
Dean scoffed on the other side of the door, sounding annoyed. "Dude, seriously, did you fucking leave?" He pushed down on the handle, swinging the door wide open and revealing Sam standing in the middle of the dimly lit room. "Oh fuck."
Sam lost it. "Jess is dead!" he sobbed, not caring who heard him downstairs now. "She's fucking dead!"
"Yeah, man, I know," Dean said awkwardly, wanting to support him. Big brothers help little brothers, right? "I know and I'm sorry."
Sam continued to cry as he stood in the room, arms wrapped around his stomach. Dean wanted to go to him. Wanted to hug him and give him kisses, like when little Sam would skin his knee or his elbow and Dean would slap a bandaid on and tell Sam he was all better. When was the last time he had even done that? Comforted his little brother as he cried? Would Sam even let him as an adult?
"Mom!" Dean called downstairs over his shoulder. "Dad!"
"What's going on?" they both asked as they came upstairs. One look at Sam told them all they needed to know.
coffeeaddict13
