"Okay! First topic of conversation this evening: Why My Dad Is A Total and Complete Asshole."
Sea coloured eyes are rolled. Typical of her cousin, of course. She's gotta bitch about something whenever it comes to family, and most of the time its always about her dad. Erica's uncle whom, him and his wife Mary had taken her in when Uncle John's deadbeat brother abandoned her at their doorstep. That was quite a few years ago; she been living with them so long, she must have called them 'Mumma' and 'Daddy' more than a few times.
Erica rolls her eyes again and goes back to her gossip magazine. "Okay, remind me again why I gave you the spare key, Deanna."
"Bite me, Erica, it's Dean." She ignored her cousin's off-handed comment about her not being sure whether or not Dean was a lesbian. "And this is COMPLETELY—" Dean made a show of flailing her arms about, it would have been quite comical if it weren't for the murderous look her face; Erica laughed,"—getting out of hand!"
Erica looked up at her visibly fuming cousin and gave her a face. "Preaching the choir here, girlfriend. I know what your dad's like. Dude, I lived with him for the better portion of 20 years. Remember your deadbeat uncle, the excuse I have for a father? Yeah, it's hereditary." Dean flipped her off and flopped on the couch. Erica put her feet up. Ah, so damn good. Hello blood flow. With a smile she motioned for her dear cousin to continue.
"Okay, so, you know how a few years back Mum and Dad were going through relationship issues?" Dean enquired.
"I think it's called a—what's the word? Oh, right—separation."
"Real helpful, bitch."
"You're welcome, darlin'."
Dean bitchfaced, it was rare, but when she did, oh boy. Did it rival Sam's. "Can I continue, please?" Erica nodded with a laugh. That face—priceless. "Yeah, so, my parents went and got themselves separated, and my dad being the stupid, pigheaded, stubborn jackass that he is, he got in his car and drove to Minnesota."
Erica titled her head. "So?"
Green eyes glared heatedly at the flowers in the vase on Erica's coffee table, as if hoping by some miracle that it'd explode into an uncontrolled blaze. Said green glare shifted upwards toward Erica and she raised an eyebrow: you wanna run that by me again, thank you very much. I don't think so. Dean huffed and crossed her arms. "So, he went and got drunk. And found a lady friend. And bumped uglies with her."
"Okay, first of all, ew." Erica grimaced, and shifted her butt. Damn her ass was numb. "Second of all, your mum shacked up with a couple of guys during that period of time, so why is this a big deal?"
Dean's glared went up another notch. "Because she didn't get pregnant," she grumbled.
Erica was confused. Of course Mary didn't get pregnant, otherwise Sam and Dean would have had another little half sibling running around some—oh. Oh. Oh! She gaped at her cousin incredulously. "No. No. He didn't." This most certainly did not make any sense. John was always careful, he even continued to use protection after Sammy was born just because he refused to get The Snip. (But that was only because he was deathly afraid of going under—said it reminded him too much of 'Nam and when a bomb would go off somewhere close and everything went white. She knows this because he got electrocuted at the automart place in town when he was working there one time. Doctors said something 'bout soft tissue damage and blah, blah.)
Dean scoffed. "My words exactly."
There were a few moments of silence before Erica piped up again. "Hey, how do you know about this, anyway? If your dad did something like that, your mum would have kicked his ass to the curb before he even finished saying 'I got some chick preggers.'"
Dean scowled. "Dude, you have to say it like that?"
"What? I can't say shit like that now? Dude, did you forget who you're talking to? I'm in my third trimester and I'm the size of a balloon!" She slapped Dean on the shoulder. "And! You haven't answered my question."
Shaking her head, Dean dropped Erica's feet and wandering into the kitchen, a faint "I need a fucking beer" was heard. "Sweetie, while you're up, can you please get me some gummies? Baby wants sugar!"
Her cousin mumbled.
"What was that?" She inquired.
A blonde head popped around the corner and sneered, "I said, 'Damn pregnancy cravings.' Get off your own fat ass and get 'em."
"Deanna, I just said I was the size of a balloon."
A packet of gummies flew around the corner, Erica's hands flying up fast enough before she got a black eye. Squealing her appreciation, Erica, in a ravenously savage way, tore at the packet of gummies in her hands and started to greedily chomp them down.
"Still, I'm waiting for an answer," Erica said around a mouthful of gummies as Dean came back into the room. Erica moved her legs out of the way as Dean plonked her ass, making the couch bounce about a little and moving Erica's butt into the crevice that she just removed it from, thank you very much, Deanna. She scowled and ate a few more gummies before said butt-mover snatched them away from her and pulled out a handful. Gummies and Beer. Delightful. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to steal from pregnant women? They'll go all Terminator on your ass, girl."
"Quit your bitchin', woman. Or else I ain't gonna tell you how I came about this juicy little tidbit." Dean gave her cousin back the gummies.
"Since when did you say 'tidbit'?"
"Since you started rubbing off on me… Damn pregnancy brain, it's contagious to any women who haven't had a child. I'm doomed." Dean took a swig from her beer, and Erica wondered since when did she keep any in her abysmal apartment, then she decided that she really didn't give a flying fuck, and got off the couch (being sure to accidentally kick Dean on the way off. "Sorry, sweetie." "Fuck off, fatty. I'm having a crisis here.") in search of the peanut butter jar she saw in the cupboard earlier.
"I'm still listening!" Erica called from the kitchen floor a few minutes later. She couldn't get up off the floor and she'll be damned before she ever has to crawl through the house before she can pull herself up. That's her boyfriend's job… and Sammy's when he came over that one time... good times.
"Well get in here!"
Erica squinted her eyes. "I, er. Uh, I… Can't."
"'m shtuck," she said around a mouthful of peanut butter. All this eating is going to wonders for her figure. She better work her ass off when she's had her baby.
A quiet "What the?" came just before Dean did, and she had to laugh at the way her cousin sat on the floor. Girl had a thing for toed socks.
"Shut up," Erica complained when Dean sat down next to her, laughing. She grabbed a spoon and started joining in with her cousin, taking a huge glob of peanut butter and sticking it her mouth, it was one of the stupid moments that she often had with her cousin and she couldn't but thinking about all the times over the years Dean had wished Erica could be her sister, not her cousin or her adopted sister, but her actual direct blood relative. Because then Erica didn't have to put up with her dad's drunken shit at eight years old before he dropped Dean's cousin on her doorstep without a glance back.
Shaking her head, Dean went on to tell Erica that she'd found John with his mobile phone pressed tightly to his ear and calling Mary from outside their family home's front door, demanding that Mary let him explain his shit. And being the totally awesome woman that is Mary, she went upstairs into Sam's bedroom (because he has the window that faces the front yard) and tossed a small duffle bag out the window telling him to go to his slut and kid. Erica laughed at that. Mary could be the picture of homemaker wife or polished lady, but when she gets riled up at certain stuff, she cusses more than John does.
"And then," Dean says a little off balanced, she's on her third beer now, nursing it thank God, "my asshole for a father, being as stubborn as he is, 'cides to poke the hornet's nest further and tries to get Mum listen to him, but she just keeps on ignorin' him. Then he gets fed up and says a 'fuck you, very much' to my mum and gets in his truck and drives away." Dean takes another long pull. "Thank the Lord above that this happened around lunch time, cause it's a school day and we don't want any little kiddies hearing their potty mouth." Dean bitchfaces again and it is absolutely priceless, so Erica laughs.
"But," she giggles again, "but if this went down at lunch, then why'd it take you so long to get here? I live five minutes away from your house, girl."
"'Cause I had to calm my mum the fuck down before Sam got home from school. Oh, Sam. God. You don't wanna know."
"Seriously, I wanna know."
"Ah, well, it's nothing really, but he's being such prissy little bitch. I swear to God above that if I was that bad, then take a gun to my head right now. He overreacts, he's far too emotional for a boy, would rather have tea with Mum on Sunday than sleep in. He fights with Dad all the fucking time, and Mum is just about ready to kill both of 'em." Dean holds her fingers up an inch apart. "That close, Erica, I shit you not."
Erica laughs again. "Looks like you got your hands full this week, UN."
"I would, but that's called cannibalism, Deanna, and it's frowned upon in most societies."
Dean grimaces. "That name…"
"Was your grandmother's. Be proud of it."
"Yeah, I know, but it's Gramps that I don't like." She shakes her head. "I dunno, but there's something about him, y'know?"
"And the only reason why I haven't decked the guy already is 'cause he's Mum's dad. He's blood."
"Family don't end in blood, Dean." The words rolled off Erica's tongue before she had the chance to stop herself. It was the same thing that John and Mary had first told her when they took her in. Same thing she lived by day-by-day. That's why she and Dean were so close—it's the kind of thing that they both took to heart. They were almost like twins like that, you know? Never mind that they were born almost a year apart, and that they had similar personalities—the looks of the both of them was enough to send even the best FBI profilers couldn't tell that they weren't. Same face shape, similar heights (Dean's taller), same ridiculously long eyelashes and eye shape. Really, the only big difference were their eye colour—Dean's being a startling forest-olive green and Erica's the colour of the sea; not green, but not blue either. Somewhere in the middle.
Pressure is felt on her shoulder and she looked to see the hunched over figure of her cousin snoring lightly on her shoulder.
Sighing she says, "Dean?"
"Deanna." She says firmer.
"Sweetie, if you wanted a place to crash, all you had to do was ask."
"'nks, 'Rica." Dean's snuggling into her shoulder now.
"Deanna. I can't lift you to bed. I'm pregnant, remember?"
"Mm, hmm…" Dean snores again.
Huffing, Erica thinks of ways to get rid of clingy cousin, and remembering that she always, always responds to a nice, quick yell.
"BITCH! WAKE UP!" She barks in Dean's ear. The effect is desired.
"What? Where's the fire?" She says, drowsily.
"Here's the fire," Erica says. "Help me up and we call it a night, yeah?"
Dean blinks a few times and is standing within a few seconds; arms crossed out in front'a her. Erica reaches up and clasps her cousin's hands. "Ready?"
"Dude, we're not even doing girl guides anymore, okay? Just pull!"
Let's just say that the resulting giggles and girly guffaws of laughter is enough to wake the neighbours, but not so much to cause any alarms. She girls giggled and stumbled their way into Erica's bedroom and collapsed atop of her bed. They laugh themselves into a happy, whale-filled dream where everyone is beached…