Disclaimer: "I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. The Brotherhood AU is a fanfiction series created by Ridley C. James, Tidia, and Williamson M. Scott. This work of fanfiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story.
TRIGGER WARNING: This story does involve a brief encounter with a flasher at the start.
So here is another one-shot due to me trying to clear out at least some of the vast array of random moments and scenes I have sitting in my WIP folders. (These are not particularly good - just to warn you)
Putting it out there.
The Laundromat
"You can either put that away, or I can cut it off," Dean said in a low voice.
They weren't alone in the laundromat but the man had positioned himself so that only Dean could see what he was doing.
"Your call," Dean challenged, keeping his eyes carefully on the man's face, and away from his open fly.
The man seemed flabbergasted as he looked back at Dean. Dean might be only twelve-years-old but there was no doubt, looking in his eyes, that he was completely serious. Still, the man hesitated. So Dean pulled out his six-inch bowie knife.
The flasher's eyes widened and he swallowed before tucking himself back in and slinking away.
Dean slipped his Bowie back into his bag but made sure it was still easily accessible. He threw a quick glance toward the attendant, who was doing a good job of noticing neither the penis nor the knife as he blew a bubble with his gum and turned the page of his graphic novel.
Dean stared at the revolving load of laundry opposite his seat, knowing there was still ages to go before it would be dry. He was tempted to try and call his dad to pick him up. It wasn't his first flasher and they sometimes lingered, waiting for another chance. But that would involve the humiliating experience of explaining why he wanted to be picked up, which would likely just disappoint his father.
Besides, it was pointless when sometimes Dad wasn't even about to pick him up and the call would likely result in a lecture on dealing with these things for himself. Which he had done! He thought grumpily. But that didn't mean the perv wasn't hanging around outside somewhere. Dean took a deep breath and tried to push it all down. As he'd just explained to that creep, exposing your soft bits was more likely to result in a sharp blade than a gentle hand.
The door opened with a jangle of a bell and Dean's head involuntarily jerked that way. It wasn't the pervert, it wasn't Dean's dad either. Terrifyingly, it was Sammy. Dean tried to never bring Sammy to the laundromat, but his little brother was still too young to be left alone for too long so it had been necessary at times. So far he'd at least managed to avoid the eight-year-old being exposed to any of the creeps that sometimes hung around these places. Dean was already half out of his seat when his father also appeared.
Flustered, Dean plonked back down. He tried to look casual but felt the way Dad's eyes zeroed in on him.
"What happened?" John demanded, marching over and looming over his son. To the casual observer the move looked threatening but again the attendant seemed oblivious.
"That lady's thong got tangled with her bra and it took her forever to separate them," Dean said casually. He gave the woman in question a grin. She didn't look back but her cheeks reddened and there was a determination in the way she stayed focused on her book.
John didn't respond. His expression didn't change. Nor did he move.
Dean didn't know why his father had come looking for him. Maybe a hunt had come up and they needed to leave. Whatever it was, his father was clearly suspicious and Dean was desperate that Dad not realise just how pleased Dean was to see him. He searched his mind for a different tactic.
"I didn't know you were up, Sammy's never awake this early," he tried. It was true that Sam still looked a little bed-ruffled as he wandered around the space, his curious eyes taking in everything. He was young enough to think that anywhere his brother tried to keep him from going must hold some wonderful or exciting secret, and determined enough to try to discover it. Dean's eyes flicked between Sammy and the door but there was no sign of the predator.
John's gaze narrowed. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. Then his face hardened.
"Time to go."
Dean looked up at him. Then at the dryer that was currently tumbling their wet clothes. He opened his mouth to argue, but luckily took in his dad's expression before he did and closed it again.
He grabbed the bag he'd carried the clothes in and moved to open the dryer.
SPNBROAU
In the kitchen at Pastor Jim's farm, Caleb turned the page of the book before him with a level of passive-aggressiveness that made his father smile, which in turn caused Caleb to glare.
"You know that once someone is in college most parents no longer feel the need to literally oversee their kid's homework," he complained.
"I was going to make that exact point," Mackland said. He looked up from the copy of The American Journal of Surgery he was perusing, to stare pointedly at his son. He had already suggested previously that Caleb needed to be managing his time better. And that if Caleb couldn't, or wouldn't, Mac would do it for him.
"It's not like I'm failing," Caleb insisted.
"And if you manage a good job on this assignment, we can keep it that way." If Caleb were not capable of doing better, Mac would not be nearly so hard on him, but there was no way he was going to let his son squander his potential.
"I told you, I got a little behind because of that trouble with the werewolf. I'll catch up soon enough."
"And I told you, that if hunting interferes with your education, it will have to be put on hold until you graduate." The wording and intonation had been carefully orchestrated to make it clear to Caleb that 'no graduation' meant 'no hunting'.
Of course, now Caleb was legally an adult even his officious father could no longer rule his choices. But as the Scholar, Mac did have enough power to keep Caleb from hunting, at least hunting as a member of the Brotherhood. The young man looked to Jim beseechingly. The pastor, as Guardian, could overrule the Scholar. However, Jim was so determinedly engrossed, reading a suspicious report in a newspaper one of the hunters had sent him, that Caleb realised he'd get no support from that quarter. His best bet was his mentor. John was on his way to the farm, but the Knight had more important things to worry about right now. As did Caleb.
"How am I supposed to concentrate at the moment anyway?" he grumbled, frowning down at the books before him again.
"Caleb," Mac sighed. "John assured us Dean was fine and they are on their way here so you will see that for yourself."
"Look, I might not have had a vision but I had a really bad feeling. I know from experience that those sorts of bad feelings and Deuce are a bad mix. Besides, we both know that if Johnny's changing his plans to bring Dean here it's because I was right and something is wrong."
Mac turned his attention back to the journal in his hands. Caleb was entitled to his 'I told you so' moment. After the doctor had made enquiries as to his son's progress at Auburn and discovered he was on the verge of being placed on academic probation, Mackland had arranged the weekend at the farm specifically to limit distractions (and to have the additional authority of the Guardian to back him up) while Caleb got caught up. Therefore, when the young man had first started insisting that something was wrong and that they needed to get in touch with the Winchesters, both he and Jim were sure it was just a ploy to get out of focussing on his assignment.
Only when Caleb had become upset had they at last relented and agreed to make the call. John had seemed even less impressed than Mac and Jim had been with this 'bad feeling' Caleb had. But he had said, since he was awake now anyway, he'd go check on Dean so that Junior could unbunch his panties. The follow up call had been brief and terse; the Winchesters would be at the farm in a few hours.
"I still do not understand why Jonathan asked me to move the car out of sight," Mac mused.
"Because he thinks it will be easier to get Deuce talking if we catch him off guard," Caleb snorted. If anything, it would just put the kid's back up more, but it made no difference either way. John would order Dean to tell and so Dean would, though as little as possible.
Caleb was reassured that Dean was not physically hurt and was at least now with John, but that bad feeling in his gut still lingered and he couldn't settle until he'd seen the kid with his own two eyes.
SPNBROAU
In the Impala, Dean rested his feet on the dashboard. John reached over to smack the side of his leg, telling him to put his feet back on the floor. With the familiar rumble of the V8 engine beneath him, John took a deep calming breath and tried to force his muscles to relax. Making sure the road was clear, he took a moment to inspect his son. Dean shrugged off the unasked question, turned up the radio and then looked out of the side window. Neither of them spoke.
For hours, as the sleek black Chevy made its way north, Dean kept his focus on the view through the side window while John's eyes continued to flick between the road and his eldest. Every inspection of his son was accompanied by an increased depression of the accelerator.
When John finally pulled off I-65, Dean understood and dropped his eyes. It caused mixed emotions. He loved going to the farm and was usually happy to see Pastor Jim. But he had the horrible feeling he was about to get interrogated by two thirds of the Triad regarding what had happened at the laundromat. If telling his dad was humiliating in its weakness, telling Pastor Jim was a whole 'nother type of humiliation.
In the back of the car, the bag of damp laundry, which had been thrown in next to Sam when they loaded up, had slid across the seat during the aggressive exit from the interstate and was now touching the eight-year-old's jeans. He grumbled and shoved it away before removing his headphones to ask once more:
"Are we there yet?"
"Nearly!" John snapped, relieved to finally be able to give this response after two and a half hours of driving well beyond the speed limit. Sam huffed and returned to his tape. He'd needed the bathroom forever but just like his earlier complaints that he needed a drink, then some food, then to stretch his legs, Dad had refused to stop.
John slowed the car to a respectable speed as he turned towards Pastor Jim's farm and within a few minutes the Impala was pulling to a stop before the farmhouse. He marched up to the door without a word.
The sound of his knocking could be heard as Dean got Sam and the damp bag from the back seat. By the time Jim answered, Dean had furnished Sam with his backpack from the trunk and shouldered his own and his dad's duffle as well as the laundry. As they headed towards the house, Sam waved happily to Jim in the doorway. Dean kept his head and eyes down.
John headed in first, after grabbing his bag from Dean, while Jim welcomed the boys warmly. He herded them inside, smiling indulgently as Sammy nattered away about school and his new project to learn French and how he hoped Pastor Jim had ice cream as he hadn't had ice cream in forever!
Dean was pulled up by the sight of Mackland and Caleb at the kitchen table. Caleb was scowling grumpily, at a spread of books in front of him but perked up considerably at the sight of the arrivals. As the greetings were exchanged, there were conspiratorial looks which told Dean he'd been completely set up. This is why there had been no sign of another car outside, so they could ambush him. With swirling emotions of hurt, anger and fear he grabbed the bag of damp laundry and headed through to co-opt Jim's dryer so he could avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. There was little doubt in his mind they were all talking about him back in the kitchen.
Once the clothes were drying, with no further excuse to hide, he dragged his feet back that way. Caleb's books had been cleared away and a large plate of sandwiches was now in the centre of the table. It seemed they were all waiting for him before they started eating.
John nodded curtly to the remaining seat.
Dean's butt had barely made contact with the chair when Sam grabbed his first sandwich. Uncharacteristically, none of the adults commented on this. They each took a sandwich in turn and Dean followed suit, keeping his eyes on his plate. Though not yet eating, John swallowed, making his Adam's apple bounce.
Dean's skin prickled with the tension of the approaching storm and he glanced towards Sam hoping for a reprieve in light of the youngster's presence. But Sammy had Dean's Walkman on and was oblivious. None of the adults reprimanded the kid for the rudeness of listening to the Walkman at the table and Dean knew why. In a last ditch attempt to use the 'Sammy-buffer' he leaned over and lifted one of the ears.
"That better be something decent and not that weird stuff."
Sam glared at him. "It's French, which is a language, not weird stuff," he defended. He replaced the headphones, deliberately turned up the volume while still glaring at his brother, then focused back on his sandwich.
The room was silent except for a light murmur of sound that could be made out from the Walkman. John was watching him, that look on his face that demanded a report, but Dean pretended not to see it and took a big bite of his sandwich instead. He instantly regretted it as he started to chew and realised his stomach did not want food right now.
"Dean." John demanded after several minutes when the boy finally swallowed.
"It was nothing."
"Nothing?"
Dean took another bite, though smaller this time, hoping someone else would say something, but no one did. When he managed to swallow this one, he sat back in his seat, pushing away his plate.
His dad was still waiting. Dean gave a forced sigh.
"Some jerk got his junk out, that was all. It was no big deal."
John went red, Mac looked shocked, but Jim held his hand up to them both and spoke gently.
"What happened next?"
Dean was still refusing to look at any of them and his cheeks had gone red. "It was fine," he mumbled. "I handled it."
John swore, Mac choked, Jim put his hand to his chest with a mutter of "my boy", and Caleb stood up so suddenly his chair fell over behind him with a crash.
He grabbed Dean's arm, turning the boy to face him. "You did what?"
Sam looked up, dropping the headphones from his ears and staring around the turbulent sea of shocked faces. Dean was looking startled at the reaction.
"I mean, I, I dealt with it," he stumbled out quickly.
Dean felt the brush across his mind as Caleb read him. He yanked his arm free and stared defiantly back, waiting. Sure, he might have considered asking for help, but he hadn't done so. And he hadn't needed help. He wasn't a baby, he was twelve.
"He's telling the truth," Caleb assured the others after a moment, though he still looked annoyed. They all settled back at the table, none looked happy. Sam was looking from face to face, clearly curious, but something about the mood had him holding his tongue. He'd ask his brother later.
It looked like everyone, except Dean, had more to say on the matter but the adults each glanced towards Sam before Mac changed the subject by asking the youngster about his new desire to learn French. Since this was the first time anyone had asked this with genuine curiosity, rather than a 'why the hell would you want to do that' tone, Sam launched into the subject enthusiastically, saving the rest from speaking for some time.
Dean said nothing more at the table and once released, planted himself firmly in front of the TV.
After a silent look between the Guardian and the Scholar, Mac suggested a drink to John - the only destination likely to get the Knight to agree to go - and Jim herded Sam outside to help with the chores, insisting, as patiently as he could, that yes, Sam did have to go, even though Dean was watching TV.
SPNBROAU
John followed Mac out of the house, his shoulders tight with anger. Mac moved deliberately around to where he had hidden the rental car, ignoring the way John had headed automatically towards the Impala. John looked up, baffled, when he realised Mac was not with him. Then, with a disgruntled scowl, followed Mac and even climbed into the passenger seat without verbalising any complaint.
Jonathan Winchester wasn't a man that handled his emotions well. Perhaps it was growing up in an environment where being 'a man' meant not expressing emotion, and yet experiencing emotions so powerfully. Dean wasn't like John in many ways but they both had a great depth of feeling that, try as they might, they could not moderate. Given his mood, Mac was eager to get John away from his sons until he calmed down.
Mac had been concerned about Dean's refusal to tell them much, worried it was more than Sammy's presence making him hold his tongue. But Caleb had filled his father in quickly on more of the details before the two parents had left the house.
To start with, they drove in silence. John brooding over the scene in the kitchen and Mac allowing him time to do so. He hoped John would calm somewhat on the long road towards town. Unfortunately, he did not. Instead, he hit the dashboard a couple of times and swore.
"I swear to God, some days I could kill that boy," he gritted out.
Mac looked at him in shock. "John, you can't seriously be mad at Dean."
"Can't I?" John challenged. "Watch me."
Mac frowned and took a breath to control his own temper. Perhaps Jim should have been the one to come with John; Mac could empathise far too much with the Knight when it came to an impulse to kill someone close to you.
"Are you saying it is Dean's fault?" Mac asked eventually, when he had himself under control.
John shot him an incredulous look. "Of course it is Dean's fault, who else's fault would it be?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the sick sleazeball who tried to assault him," Mac accused. "Or maybe yours, for letting him go to a place like that alone in the first place." Mac knew he was poking the bear but he had to shift the focus of John's anger and if that meant putting himself in the firing line, so be it.
John turned to glare at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Mac blinked, it wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "I am talking about someone exposing themselves to Dean in the laundromat. What are you talking about?"
"Him hiding it." John's eyes blazed.
Mac's widened in surprise.
John continued, steamroller-style as was his way. "Damnit Mac, you heard him. 'It was nothing', 'it was no big deal'. You know what that means? It means it's happened before. And not only did he not tell me, he wasn't even going to tell his 'nanny'," John threw Mac an accusing glare as if Dean's desire not to tell Caleb was something Mac, as Caleb's father, was somehow responsible for.
Mac had to fight the urge to laugh. Given the topic and the mood, it would be highly inappropriate. But between relief at understanding what it was that John was really angry about and the irony of John's indignation, it was hard not to laugh right in his face.
But John wasn't done. "Considering Junior's 'Dean alarm' went off, who knows what that scum might have had in mind if I hadn't shown up. I mean, damnit, Mac, what the hell? He knows better than to keep things from me."
John seemed to read Mac's inclination to laugh, despite Mac repressing it, and his face darkened.
Mac cleared his throat and tried to reason with the stampeding bison. "I am not so sure it is always clear to Dean what he should report and what he should keep to himself."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"John, you have not always provided a sympathetic ear when Dean has raised his fears, more often there is a sharp rebuttal to suck it up." Mac softened at the pain in John's eyes. "Besides, he probably didn't want to worry you, or any of us."
John snorted, acknowledging the point without accepting it. "There is a difference between …" John ran a hand over his hair then reworded what he wanted to say. "He knows the rules. Some things get reported, no matter what."
"If I remember correctly, monsters, ghosts, and bleeding but only if there is a lot of blood." Mac had heard the lectures and while his tone was sarcastically teasing, his point was serious.
As it turned out John was also serious, and had barely heard what Mac said, too caught up in his own frustrations. "THREATS!" he exploded, hitting the dashboard again this time hard enough to leave a mark. "GODDAMMIT, Mac, just how many more things are going to come for my children?" There was a desperation to the wildness in John's eyes now. "Who knows what might have happened if Junior hadn't got that warning. I'm working night and day, barely resting, trying to make sure …" John took a breath but it didn't calm him. He tried again. "How THE HELL am I supposed to keep them safe when every other person on the planet is a SICK FREAK of some kind?"
Mac sighed and pulled the car into a space at the side of the road. He was glad they had arrived, forcing a pause in the conversation. He would respond to the man's concerns but there was no point even trying until John had calmed down a bit.
Pulled from his fury and the isolation of a moving car, John reined himself in and looked around at where they were. It was a typical small town street, a few stores, a few restaurants, a few neatly trimmed trees. Here and there were pedestrians looking in shop windows or chatting in the street. There was no sign of a bar of any kind.
He refused to make any move that might indicate exiting the car, as Mac was doing. "Where the hell are we? I thought we were getting a beer." Or in John's case, something considerably stronger.
"Actually, what I said was 'we should go for a drink'," Mac clarified casually.
John was too distracted to pick up on the situation immediately.
"Then what the fuck are we doing in Mayberry?" John sneered at the cleancut, wholesome-feeling, street as if it were as offensive to him as a stripper-filled biker bar might be to a Puritan.
Mac just waved a hand towards a small coffee shop with a bright display of window boxes outside. His smile was innocent, as if the misunderstanding was all on John's side and there had, in no way, been a deliberate ploy to mislead him.
John opened his mouth.
Mac raised his eyebrow.
John closed his mouth again.
John did, eventually, get out of the car but with bad grace, muttering obscenities to himself the whole time and throwing dark looks at Mac. Mac ignored this.
Once settled at a corner table, John having doctored his own coffee, he returned them to the topic at hand.
"So what did Junior say?" he had seen the quick tête-à-tête between Caleb and Mac before they had left the house.
"Much as I hate to say this, Dean did handle the situation," Mac admitted quietly.
"Don't you start!" John didn't appreciate a reminder of the phrase that had stopped his heart. Though paradoxically it did calm him slightly. His son's ability to include that bit of cheek, despite the circumstances and the audience, was evidence of his resilience, the kid was tough.
Seeing John relax a little, Mac felt safe to continue. "Dean told the man to back off and threatened to castrate him if he didn't."
Mac had pursed his lips slightly, though John wasn't sure which part of the situation this was aimed at.
"I'll bet that wasn't the reaction the sick-fuck was hoping for when he started his whole I'll show you mine and you show me yours," John laughed.
"I very much doubt he expected Dean to whip out his six-inch bowie." Mac agreed.
John laughed harder.
Mac eyed the Knight reproachfully. John might loathe the situation but there was no doubt he was proud of his son and was taking some enjoyment in imagining the flasher's shock.
Mac decided it was safe now to address the issues John had raised in the car. The busy coffee shop should also provide him some protection from the Knight's explosive temper. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what John had said, but that the man refused to see how, in focusing so much on some threats he was exposing his sons to others.
"John, I too am a father, and a father of a boy that has been exposed to the very worst of the supernatural. If anyone can appreciate your need to hunt down the threat, to prepare your boys, it is I. But it is not that the whole world is full of predators, just certain corners of it."
John rolled his eyes, drawing back into his shell and making Mac realise how much the Knight had put himself out there by confessing his fears.
Mac was instantly contrite. Having accused John of making Dean too fearful to confess his worries (for fear of being berated), now he, Mac, was pretty much doing the same to John.
"I know you worry, my friend," he reached a hand across the table but then thought better of it and pulled it back. "It is a father's lot," he offered a smile of comradery instead. "But what is important now is making sure Dean is ok and providing him the emotional support he needs."
John rolled his eyes at the turn in the conversation and picked up his coffee. "That's Junior's job," he said before taking a sip. The slight smirk told Mac he was forgiven for his blunder.
Mac shook his head. "I do not believe anyone, especially Dean, will think less of you in the event you assure him that you do not think less of him for finding such an event distressing."
"What the …" John paused, his eyes going briefly to the two nursing mothers at a nearby table, "gobbledegook, does that mean?"
"It means, it is not a weakness to be upset in the face of a threat." For John or for Dean.
"Of course not," John frowned. He'd never said any such thing.
"And it would not be a weakness for you to tell him that," Mac persisted in his point.
John stared at Mac for a moment then frowned more deeply as he realised what Mac was talking about.
"Dean thinks I'm mad at him?" Of course he had been mad at him, but not like that.
"Yes," Mac said patiently. "And what is worse is that he thinks you may be right to be mad at him."
John contemplated this for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee before looking back at Mac with mischief in his eyes.
"If I was mad at him, it would be because I was right to be mad at him, so he is not entirely wrong."
One of the women from the nearby table sniggered.
Mac gave John a look.
"What?" John asked. "You're the only one allowed to make circular arguments?"
Mac might understand that, after having tricked John into coming here, having brought him for the main purpose of chiding him, and having been less considerate of the man's fears than he, especially a doctor such as he, should have been, that John deserved to win that moment. Even so he took it with bad grace.
"My argument wasn't circular," he grumbled, turning to his own coffee.
SPNBROAU
Caleb came and collapsed next to Dean on the couch, eyeballing the younger boy. He knew about the kind of scum that hung out around laundromats, especially in the sort of areas John tended to leave the boys.
"You know that won't be the end of it right?" Caleb said, even though Dean was refusing to look at him. "I mean there are going to be at least two 'heart-to-heart' talks in your future." Both Mac and Jim would make sure to find an opportunity to address the matter quietly with Dean. "I'm talking full chick-flick territory; tears, tissues, hugs, some sort of divine or profound revelation designed to lift your chin and your spirits," Caleb mock-rhapsodised. "The full enchilada."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Only two?" He threw Caleb a challenging glance.
Caleb might frown at the accusation but they both knew he was never going to just let it go either. He did hope he could address it without falling into after-school-special territory though. He eyed the younger boy. Dean had set his attention determinedly back on the TV even though there was only a commercial for burial insurance on.
Caleb nudged him with his elbow, "You okay?" and saw the look of uncertainty that flashed in Dean's eyes before the mask was put in place.
"I'm fine."
Caleb stayed silent just watching, knowing waiting the kid out was the best way to get him talking.
Eventually Dean squirmed under the scrutiny and gave in to the inevitable. "Look it was nothing, like I said, I dealt with it." there was a slight pout before the more quietly spoken follow up. "But Dad got pissed anyway."
"Damn right Johnny was pissed."
Dean looked at him in shock, hurt and the beginnings of betrayal in those damn expressive eyes.
"But he's not pissed at you."
Dean's expression became incredulous.
"He just drove hours out of his way to bring you here, where you'd be safe."
Dean glanced definitely towards the kitchen where he had left Sammy.
Caleb leaned towards Dean, with a firm, knowing expression.
"Your dad's pissed at you the same way you're fine." Dean's face went carefully blank. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Caleb leaned back and put his feet on Jim's coffee table.
An uncomfortable silence stretched.
"Did you have a vision?" Dean asked.
Caleb picked up on the additional worry in the kid's voice and frowned at him.
"No, why?"
Dean shrugged. "Just wondering about this whole post-flasher-intervention thing. I mean, the whole Triad? I figured maybe something worse was meant to happen."
"Post-flasher-intervention?" Caleb snorted, not even wanting to consider what 'worse' scenarios might have been possible if John had not gone to check on Dean. Sure, it hadn't been a vision, and might have been nothing more than Caleb picking up on Dean's feelings of unease, but on the other hand … he shuddered and looked at Dean who was absently picking at a rip in his jeans.
"I mean, it's not like it's the first one I've seen," Dean shrugged but his tension prevented it being the casual act he was aiming for.
"That's not exactly making me feel better, Deuce."
"It's just my life, Damien." Dean tried to shrug it off. "I mean sure, there are some sucky parts but every life has those. I mean take you," Dean flashed him an evil grin. "Sure, your dad's a millionaire but every morning you still have to get up and see that ugly mug in the mirror, at least I don't have that horror."
Caleb couldn't help but laugh at the cheek. "Money, looks, brains, I'm the full package. You wish you looked this good." He preened a little. But then he frowned and the mood plummeted as he caught the stray thought. Dean would rather be hideously ugly if it prevented the kind of attention he'd attracted today.
"Look –" Caleb started but Dean interrupted him.
"I only go to the laundromat when I have to," he said, looking apologetic. As if it was somehow his fault for going there, rather than the fault of the person who made what should have been a safe space, unsafe. And Caleb knew Dean did avoid such places when he could. Not that he was oblivious to clothes hygiene. But focused on keeping his brother safe - from monsters and from social services and, too often, from hunger - doing laundry wasn't exactly high on the kid's list of priorities.
"Anything worse ever happen?" Caleb pressed lightly. Dean wasn't scared of much but he was still rattled by the encounter even now.
"Not really. I mean sometimes they hang around, but then I wait and leave at the same time as someone else, or sometimes there is an attendant who will chase them off."
Caleb knew Dean was creative when problems arose, but he also knew you could never plan for everything and sooner or later the kid's luck might get worse.
"I'll talk to Johnny, no more solo trips."
Dean gave him a half nod. They both knew there was no way Caleb could ensure Dean never needed to do laundry by himself again, but Dean also knew his friend would try his damnedist anyway, and that was enough.
They both leant back, more relaxed than either of them had been in hours. Dean felt something taut inside him untwist a little and he settled next to Caleb as the older boy picked up the remote to find something more entertaining for them to watch. The great thing about Caleb was that Dean didn't need to put himself out there in order for his friend to understand. Caleb could come inside, share the fears and vulnerability of that inner sanctum. He knew how to help protect it without Dean needing to take the risk of exposure. Plus, of course, Caleb understood when to exit it again.
"Got to say that was close though," Caleb followed up with eventually.
"What was?" Dean looked towards his friend, thrown by the comment. Then he frowned, worried once again that Caleb was suggesting the matter had been more than he could deal with.
"You nearly took out the Guardian, the Knight, and the Scholar in one fell swoop."
Dean just looked confused.
"You handled it?" Caleb raised an eyebrow.
A small smirk escaped before Dean could lock his face down.
Caleb wasn't convinced that Dean had spoken without thinking. Though he doubted the kid expected the reaction to be as strong as the one he got. It was just part of his general defence mechanism to turn unpleasant things into a joke.
Caleb laughed and ruffled the little punk's hair.
"Imagine future hunters reading about that as the demise of a whole Triad in the journals," he shook his head, still chortling as the theme music for the TV show Mission: Impossible started to play.
The End
AN: As always, thank you to the wonderful Churchlady63 and Meilean who patiently puts up with me and always gives me such thoughtful feedback. If you haven't read Meilean's stories, you should definitely check them out, they are amazing.
Thank you for reading - all comments gobbled up with indecent enthusiasm :)