Author's Note: Yay! It's spring and everyone's doing it! (Writing and posting multiple stories, that is.)
This one just won't leave my brain, so...here it is. I'm thinking it will be a quickie to play with when I stall with Dirty Deeds. Or something. My motto is: You can never have too much Dean. (I'm sure Sam would beg to differ. But in this story he's off having fun with his OFC, so who cares what he thinks.)
Hope you enjoy. As always, please feel free to leave reviews. :)
Dean rounded the corner to Bobby's kitchen and stopped with shudder.
He'd fought monsters, battled demons, seen plenty of slaughtered humans and grown up around dead things that reanimated and tried to eat you. He'd been to Hell and back again. But this was horrific beyond Dean's wildest dreams. The noises alone were enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.
Annie was straddling his brother's lap with her arms around his neck and her fingers in his hair, and it looked like Sam was about to swallow her face with some slimy, open-mouthed kissing.
"Oh my God, you guys, get a freaking room!"
Sam and HisAnnie stopped eating each other's faces barely long enough to mutter, "Morning Dean".
"If I see any naughty bits, I'm puking. Just saying." Dean got his coffee and tried to ignore the moaning and squirming going on, even when it got louder. Especially when it got louder.
Dean wasn't sure how he felt about the woman; she acted like she knew him, when he didn't know her at all, and it was creepy. Maybe it was just the thought that she'd changed his diapers, changed his clothes, bathed him—shudder!—and spent some time in his Fun Zone without it being fun at all that squicked him out. Plus, he'd been hairless at the time...
That was definitely it; she'd not only seen him naked, she'd seen him naked-naked and manhandled things, too. Creepy. Just creepy.
Other than that, he supposed, she was all right. She wasn't a demon, she smelled nice, and she made Sam happier than he'd ever seen the kid. And she made chocolate chip cookies too, which was definitely a bonus. She and Sam fit together like a kitten and a Great Dane, but what the hell. She wasn't Becky.
He wondered if she knew how to make pie.
Dean moved to pour himself a bowl of cereal. If he could just get out of there before he saw anything fleshy, he'd even have the appetite to eat it.
At the sound of a zipper being opened, Dean whipped around to see Annie's hand going where it didn't belong-at least, first thing in the morning, before he'd had his Leprechaun cereal. "Whoa! Hold up there, girlie. Get your hand out of my brother's pants!"
He watched in disbelief as the pair dissolved into giggles and realized he'd been had. Embarrassment crawled over him and settled—of all places—in his ears, which felt incredibly hot and glowy. He narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. They broke apart and fell into separate chairs, snorting and snorking and fixing their clothes, and he tried not to think about beating the crap out of his brother on principle alone. "Not funny, Sam!"
"Yes it is," Sam giggled and wiped away some tears.
"I love the way his face crumples. He's such a prude," Annie said.
Now wait a minute..."I am not."
"Are." Sam grinned. "Anyhow, now that you're up—"
Annie broke into another round of laughter which had Dean automatically dropping his gaze to the front of his jeans even though he knew there was nothing going on with Mr. Happy, just because...Damn it, Sam's girlfriend made him nervous. He glared at her, which only made her smile wider. She was actually quite pretty when she smiled, all sparkly and fresh.
He and Sam needed to get back on the road. This was intolerable. "Have you started packing?"
Sam sobered. "Yeah, actually. We're all ready to go. We were just waiting for you."
"We? What 'we'?" Dean waved his spoon at them. "She's not going with us."
"Us? Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam pursed his lips. "Annie and I are going away for a few days. Bobby said we could use Rufus' cabin."
Dean remembered this being discussed. Vaguely. He'd hammered the scotch pretty hard the night before, going over the past six weeks with Bobby and—
he still couldn't believe it—Crowley. They'd come up with a plan to get the bitch who'd de-aged him and—
"You're going to watch Amelia for us," Sam said.
Whut? "I'm sorry-what?" He wasn't sure he'd heard that right. Him? Watch the Demasculator? "You're not serious."
"Of course we are." Sam stood. Annie came and stood beside him. Dean noticed the way they automatically reached for each other; Sam's hand on her shoulder, her hand on the small of his back. "Dean, we've been taking care of you for weeks; you can give me two or three days to be with Annie before we get back to business. The monsters will always be there. Please?" He turned on the puppy eyes.
Fuck. They were like lasers, boring into his heart and making him feel guilty. Damn it, Sammy, sometimes I hate you. Dean squirmed. Fuck. His brother was right. He owed him. Plus, he'd be a bitch if he didn't get laid after all this...whatever it was they did. "All right! But only for a few days!"
"Yay!" Annie squeaked and bounced in a way that reminded Dean of a chipmunk. She hopped over to him, reached up to put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his chest.
Dean squirmed and held his bowl of cereal over their heads so it didn't get spilled, and he tried to smile. Single armed bro-hugs, he got. Full-on Iwannahavesexwithyou hugs from women, he definitely got. But this kind of spontaneous "thank you" hug from woman who was sleeping with his brother was just…well. What the hell was it?
He didn't even know where to put his hands. What if he accidentally touched her ass? He might throw up.
"Oh, hey. Now. Yeah. Um…" He tried to smile. "That's nice. Thanks." Oh, God help me. He realized his smile probably appeared more like a grimace. This was just damned uncomfortable.
She let go—thank God—and he hurried to sit down before she hugged him a second time and started pushing his cereal around with his spoon, giving it his full attention so he didn't look at Annie again. Breakfast. Gotta love it.
Sam started talking. "Okay. Dean. I made a copy of Melia's schedule for you. Now it's very blahblahblahblah..."
Dean wondered when they started making little multi-colored marshmallows. He remembered yellow stars, green clovers, pink hearts and...something else. Something blue. What the hell was the blue marshmallow shape? He studied one floating in the milk in the bowl of his spoon. Was that a dolphin? Or a blob?
"Blahblahblah Annie blah brought over a box of blahblahblah..."
Blue blob shapes were probably not popular. What kid wanted to eat a blob? Dean shrugged, looked at Sam and nodded. What he really wanted to know is—who put the rainbows in the Lucky Charms? Figures. Damn rainbows were everywhere.
Like on the bumper of the Impala. That really scratched his ass. What the fuck had Cas been thinking? Dean had tried to peel the thing off the bumper the night before; it was as if it had been welded to the chrome. He'd try WD-40-ing it off, as soon as he was done with breakfast. That would probably work.
"Dean. Dean, are you listening to me?" Sam crumpled his forehead at him.
"Of course I'm listening Sammy. You said—" Something nerdy, probably.
"Oh, Sam. Dean will be fine. Come on. Before Melia wakes up from her nap. If she sees us leaving, we'll never get out of here." Annie tugged on Sam's arm.
"All right. I just want to be sure. You know how important it is to maintain a schedule with a toddler." Sam frowned.
"I know. And you're really good at it. But I've got it under control. So go already." Dean finished his cereal and thought about drinking the milk from the bowl. But that was kind of childish.
It was also delicious. He shrugged and lifted the bowl to his lips.
When he put the bowl down, Sam and Annie were gone. He got up and went to find Bobby.
"What do you mean you're going on a hunting trip?" Dean stared at the older man. "By yourself? What is it? I can help you—"
"No, you can't," Bobby said, grabbing a box of shells from the safe. "You're watching Melia."
"Yeah, but Bobby. C'mon. What if—"
"I'm going deer hunting, you idjit." Bobby stuck the box into his pocket. "You'll be fine."
"I'm not worried about me," Dean said. "I'm worried about you."
"Really? Huh. Interesting." The Hunter hurried across the room and scooped up his duffle bag. "I'll be back in a few days. Earlier if I get one. But I'm in no hurry." He fixed Dean with a stern look. "I need a vacation."
"What? First Sam, now you? You'd think taking care of a kid for a few weeks is some kind of nightmare." Dean frowned.
"Uh-huh. Have fun." Bobby said and went out.
"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, following him outside. "You got your phone on you?"
"I got what I need."
"Yeah, but..." He watched him slam the trunk shut, and winced at the bang. It sounded so final. So lonely. Like the thudding of a cell door. He was starting to wish he'd listened to Sam. Bobby's car bounced down the drive; Dean stood on the porch, watching until it turned down the main road.
He was alone.
Behind him, the door clicked open and the hair on his neck rose.
It was awake.
He stood still and listened.
The door ticked shut.
Dean realized he was holding his breath and released it in one long puff.
The locked clicked.
That's not good.
He turned and tried the knob. Nope. Locked.
"Mela. Open the door."
"Mela! Open this door! Right now!"
There was a movement at the window; he looked over to see the tiny girl peering out at him.
"Open the door!"
She smiled and waved. Then she disappeared. Good. She'd be right out. Dean waited, thrusting his hands in his pockets. It was chilly and he hadn't put his jacket on.
Or his boots.
"Me-LA! Come on!"
Of course, he didn't have his lock pick with him. He'd just started putting his own clothes on again; Sam had locked up all his gear while Dean was out and he hadn't gotten around to getting everything organized again. Or at least in his pockets.
"MELA!" He grabbed the doorknob and tried it again. "Open this! Right now young lady or I'll..." Do what? Shake my fist at you?
This was ridiculous. He was Dean Winchester, for fuck's sake. He could handle a little kid—his ears pricked as the door opened, and he rushed inside.
"Dee!" she squeaked, and reached for him, a wide smile on her face and her blue-berry blue eyes dancing.
But Dean didn't care about that. He wasn't here to play. "Don't ever do that again!" he roared at the tiny demon grinning impishly up at him. And as tears filled her eyes, he realized, that was probably the wrong thing to do.
Oh crap. He scooped her up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She wailed, twisting and turning in his arms like a dirvish. Her little feet battered his thighs; one time demasculated was enough. Dean dropped her quickly and she thudded to the floor with a bang.
Mela rolled, sat up and glared at him. "You no my Dee no more! You a bewy bad man! I no wike you!"
"Well, fine. I no wike oo either!" Dean glared back. Wait a minute. What did I just say? "I mean...I don't like...well, no, that's not right either."
She got to her feet and moved away. Dean wanted to say she stalked—because she looked pretty pissed for someone wearing sparkly shoes and a shirt with a tutu attached to it—but moved was good enough. At any rate, she was climbing the stairs. "Oh, c'mon. Mela. Mela! Come back here. I didn't mean it." He hurried after her.
She was less than two years old and there weren't many places she could go. In the end, she ended up in his and Sam's room; Dean realized the reason he hadn't seen her when he'd gotten up was because she'd been napping on Sam's bed. He'd probably not seen her because she looked like a pillow under the covers.
Like right now. She sat in the center of the mattress with the blanket over her head.
"Come on, Mela. You look ridiculous." He tried to reason with her.
There was no way he could go 'way; if he left her alone, she could get hurt. Bobby's house wasn't exactly the safest place for a kid. There were knives and unguents and potions and poisonous herbs and booze and...holy crap. The place was a death trap. And Sam and Bobby had stayed here with him?
It was a wonder he was alive.
Irresponsible assholes. Who the hell lets a little kid in a pit like Bobby's house? Dean sat down on his bed and stared at the lump under Sam's covers. Okay. Well...he hadn't died. So it wasn't that bad. He just needed to make sure he never took his eyes off the kid, or left her alone. Not even for a second.
A second was a very long time, he realized about thirty of them, later. "Mela? You coming out anytime soon?"
"No. Go 'way."
Okay. Dean sighed.
There was a flutter of wings. Thank God. Thank Cas. Dean sighed as Cas appeared and took in the situation. The angel shook his head and turned to him. "Dean. You vewy bad man. Mela no wike you no more."
"Oh, yeah. All right. Fuck you too, Cas." Dean snapped.
"Fuck you too!" She pulled the blankets off her head; her hair stood up from the static. She looked possessed. She sounded possessed too, come to think of it. Oops. My bad.
"That's not good." Cas sighed. "Dean. Sam was very careful not to use the f-word around you. You should do the same around Mela."
"Yeah, thanks for that, Cas. Good advice." Not. What he needed was advice on how to get through the next few days without losing his mind. And information on stuff like, Is it kosher to use duck tape on little kids? He figured it probably wasn't—Lisa never used duck tape on Ben, he didn't think, but he could almost guarantee she thought of it.
He wondered if a devil's trap would work.
Dean realized suddenly that Cas had been here the whole time he was little. So he knew something about taking care of tiny monsters. "Cas, buddy. You busy for the next few days?"
I wonder where Cas will take them? Hmmm... I'm open to suggestions!