Hey everyone. As usual, I don't own anything Flashpoint; if you would like a story idea please visit my profile.
Originally, this was just supposed to be Clark and Dean, but I wanted to explain up to that point, and 'Jumping At Shadows'' seem perfect. It's also about 2:40am, so sorry for any grammer mistakes. Anyway, thanks for reading.
''So this is it,'' Greg said, opening the door and stepping aside to let Dean through first. Today had been one of the most heart-hammering days of his life - in a good way for once. Dean coming to the SRU, sticking around until he got back, offering to make dinner. Pasta, it warmed his Italian heart to hear his son knew how to make pasta.
''It's nice,'' Dean said, surveying the apartment. It kinda reminded him of his room back home. Tidy, pictures front and center, bookshelf over-flowing with various genres, and a big bowl of assorted snacks.
''I, uh, have something for you. It's, uh, it's back here.'' Greg pointed to the hallway leading towards the bedroom and motioned for Dean to follow him. Once he got to his bedroom, he stopped at a wooden chest at the base of his bed. Removing the worn blanket on top, he knelt down and opened the chest.
''What is all this?'' Dean asked, looking down into the chest.
''It's yours. Ed made the chest for you when you were born. I would have made it myself, but when I was helping him make Clark's, I almost cut off my hand. Needless to say, Ed refuses to let me go anywhere near sharp power tools.'' Greg rambled, a delighted smile coming to his face when Dean sat down on the floor with him. ''These are some pictures of you, I'd asked some reletives if they had any copies to send them. This box has my sobriety chips and certificates. The photo album is kinda a time line of my career - I worked as hard as I could, thinking that, if you ever came looking for me ... I wanted you to be proud, of the man you found.''
Dean sat there silently, not really knowing what to say. Looking around inside the chest, his eyes stopped on a big pile of letters. Seeing the 'return to sender' lable stamped over his name on the top letter, he looked curiously over at his dad. ''You sent me letters?''
''I write about once a month, to let you know what's going on and to ask how you are. I always wondered if it was you or your mother sending the letters back. From the look on your face, I guess I don't have to ask.'' Not wanting him to be upset with his mom, Greg looked around the chest for a change of topic. ''Hey, do you remember this guy?'' Pulling out and old stuffed animal.
''Whiskers!'' Dean said, reaching for the toy dog. ''I always thought I lost him on the plane to Dallas. Where did you find him?''
''In the driveway. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes after a rough shift, he my sleeping buddy. He barks the bad dreams away.'' Greg smiled seeing Dean clucth the dog to his chest, like he used to do as a kid. His reminiscing was interrupted by the sound of Dean's stomach growling. ''Dinner, I'm sorry, I forgot. You must be starving.'' He said getting up.
''I can wait a little longer.'' Dean stood up and placed Whiskers gently on the bed, fondly patting his head before following his dad to the kitchen.
''Okay, pasta, pasta.'' Greg said, pulling things out of drawers and cabniets.'' Stopping upon noticing Dean's confused look, he grinned. ''You were talking about the kind that comes in a box, weren't you?''
''Uh, yeah. What, you meant from scratch?'' Dean asked, disbelievingly.
Chuckling, Greg waved him over. ''Come on. It's not as hard as it sounds.''
''Wow, this is delicious.'' Dean said, stuffing another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
''Now you know how to make homemade pasta and homemade sauce.'' Greg said, toasting him with his own forkful of food.
''Don't forget, the homemade water.'' Dean toasted his dad back with the glass he'd filled with water at the sink.
''So,'' Greg wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. ''How long is that movie you told your mother you were seeing?''
''I told her they were playing back-to-back films, and that I probably wouldn't be back until 9.'' Dean shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his food.
Greg looked over at the clock, 6:53. Knowing he only had a bit more time, he took a drink of water to clear his throat again and took a deep breath. ''So, tell me about yourself.''
''What do you want to know?'' Dean said, looking up.
''Anything, everything.'' He replied, pushing his plate aside and giving his son his full attention.
''I can drive you over. It'd be no trouble.'' Greg said, a slightly desprate tone filled his voice as he watched Dean putting on his coat.
''Thanks, but I'd better take a cab. Mom wouldn't be happy if she knew I'd walked, and seeing me get out of a stranger's car would be a big no-no.'' Dean said, stuffing his hands into his pocket nervously.
''I'm not a stranger.'' Greg knew he was stretching it, but he just wanted to spend more time with he son.
''Yeah, you kinda are. Which is good, don't get me wrong.'' Dean said hastily. ''You're not the same guy you used to be. I'm glad.''
''Hey, listen. Tomorrow, the team's meeting over at Ed's, you know, for a barbeque. You're welcome to join us, if you can make it. You can meet everyone, I know Sofie will want to fuss over you, and Clark will be there, and you really have to try whatever dessert Shelley is bringing. Sofie may be a caterer, but hands-down Shelley's the best baker I've ever met.'' Greg said, grasping for strings.
''I'll, try. It sounds like fun.'' Dean said, shuffling his feet. ''Well, I'd better get going. I'll, uh, I'll, talk to you later, I guess.''
''Yeah, definitely.'' Greg gave a slight nod of his head. Hesitating a second longer before pulling Dean in for a hug, almost giving in to the urge to cry when he felt arms wrapping around him just as tightly. Letting go reluctantly, he went to the door and opened it. ''If you decide you want to go tomorrow, just stop by here and I can drive us over. I'll probably leave around noon.''
''Okay, umm, bye.'' Dean said, ducking his head and walking out the door.
''Dean -'' Greg called out as Dean just reached the elevator. ''I love you son.''
''I love you too Dad,'' Dean smiled and gave a little wave, then stepped into the elevator.
Once the elevator was shut, Greg closed the door and walked over to the window. The pre-called cab was waiting for Dean, and Greg saw his son get in and watched as it drove away. When the cab was out of sight, he pulled out his cell phone. ''Hey, Eddie. Yeah, it went great. Listen, I have a really big favor to ask. Would you mind hosting a last-minute barbeque for the team?''
''Do you remember this place at all?'' Greg asked pulling up to the Lane's driveway.
''A little, not much. Did this house used to be purple?'' Dean asked, looking around at his surroundings.
''More of a lilac, and Ed changed the color as soon as Sofie let him. So, where did you tell your mom you are this time?'' Greg said, climbing out of the car.
''Arcade.'' Dean replied, falling into step with Greg as they walked around to the backyard.
''Well, this it it.'' Greg said as they stepped into the backyard. His eyes quickly searched out Ed, who was sitting next to the grill. When Ed caught Greg's gaze, he gave a nod, and leaned over to tap Clark's shoe. Not being successful the first time around, Ed nuddged Clark's hand, the game in the boy's hand being put on pause. They said a few words, and Clark looked over his shoulder.
''Clark.'' Dean said, his voice barley above a whisper.
''Dean,'' Clark stood, and the boys looked at each other before running into the other's arms. ''You didn't say goodbye.''
''Yeah, we kinda left in a hurry. You know, brother, you haven't changed all that much.'' Dean said as they let go.
''Neither have you, squirt.'' Clark smiled widely. ''You wanna go sneak golf balls?''
Dean laughed. ''I don't know, with all these cops around, I'm araid we might get arested.''
Greg and Ed watched the boys over at the grill. ''I haven't seen Clark talk or smile this much in a long time,'' Ed said, flipping over the hotdogs.
''They were pretty much inseparable when they were younger, weren't they?'' Greg responded. Gesturing around the backyard, he said, ''Thanks for all of this.''
''No problem.'' Ed slung his arm around his friend. ''The next time you want a barbeque, though, gives us more of a heads-up, will you?''