Muse: Dean Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Gift recipient: Matthew Davis
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dude_imawesomePrompt: 5.1 Teach
Set in matthew!PTA!Dean verse. Matthew is used with permission.Brooke was in the house working on new designs and Dean was outside spending some time with Matthew and the medium sized, black and white dog named Hendrix that he’d gotten for Christmas. The Impala was sitting in the driveway, shiny from the wash Dean had given her earlier.
“Come here,” Dean said to Matthew, walking over to the Impala. He unlocked the driver’s side door and let Matthew slid in, over to the passenger seat then he got into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition halfway so that the radio came on. He grabbed the shoe box full of tapes and picked one, put it in the cassette player but kept the volume low. It was Kansas, one of his Dad’s favorite bands. His fingertips bumped over the tops of the cassettes, stopping at one. He pulled it out and held it up to Matthew.
“See this one?” he handed it to Matthew who held it with a reverence that he’d picked up somehow from seeing it in Dean’s hand for a moment. The little boy nodded in answer.
“This one, we don’t ever play,” Dean told him.
“Why not?” Matthew asked, eyes wide like he was about to be told some sacred secret.
“It’s called Stairway to Heaven and it’s probably Zeppelin’s greatest piece. It’s about a lady who’s in Heaven and she’s up there, turning everything to gold, making everything perfect. The rest of her family is still here, on Earth,” Dean explained the song, perhaps letting his own situation imprint a little on it. “When my Mom died, Dad kinda let this song be hers. We don’t ever play it ‘cause it’s hers and it’s sorta how we remember her.”
“She’s an angel now?” Matthew asked.
Dean half grinned and nodded. He dug out John’s journal and got a picture of John and Mary out to show to Matthew. “She was always an angel…but yeah. She’s an angel now.”
He put the tape, the picture and the journal back then looked at Matthew hard. The little boy was a little quiet. “You doin’ okay?”
Matthew nodded earnestly and grinned. That made Dean grin and continue on with his ‘lesson’.
“Alright. This is my seat. Even when Sam is driving, it’s still my seat. It used to be my Dad’s and he was sitting right here in this seat when he proposed to my Mom,” Dean told the little boy. “Now where you’re sitting, that’s Sam’s place. When he was real little he rode in a basket in that seat. When he got older he’d sit in the backseat and sometimes me and him would play soldiers back there. Set up battalions of those green and brown army men and let ‘em go to war. Now he's a giant and he's too big for the backseat so that's his seat again.”
They both turned and looked in the backseat; Matthew on his knees, his stomach pressed against the back of the seat, Dean half turned, right arm hooked over the seat back.
“It’s dirty,” Matthew said.
“Nah, I’ve scrubbed it so much I don’t think it can get any cleaner,” Dean responded. “Sammich was about five when he spilled grape juice back there. We weren’t supposed to have purple grape juice in the back seat but the lady next door had given him one of those juice boxes and he’d snuck it into the backseat. Dad about blew a gasket-“
“What’s a gasket?” Matthew interrupted.
“Part to a car that if you blow it’ll literally shoot up to sky. I’ll show you those later,” Dean answered. “Anyway, Dad was pissed and Sammy was in tears ‘cause no one wanted Dad to take off his belt and whoop you. So I told him I did. He leaned me over the back of the car and spanked me good. I never cried ‘cause Sammy was in the backseat bawling his eyes out. Stain never came out.”
“What’s the other one?” Matthew asked, pointing to a brownish stain on the passenger side of the backseat.
“One time Sam got hurt really bad and I had to put him in the backseat until I could save him.”
Matthew looked at him, surprise on his face turning to awe. “So that’s Sam’s blood?”
“Yeah,” Dean answered. It’d be a few years before he could tell Matthew what really happened so that he could appreciate the sacredness of that blood stain.
“Cool,” Matthew grinned. Dean chuckled in response. In a few years, he’d show Matthew the false trunk in the Impala but for now he was showing him just a few of the important things about being a Winchester.
“Okay, Little Dude, we’re gonna change the Impala’s oil,” Dean said as he slipped out of the car. He grabbed a couple of bottles of oil out of the trunk and an aluminum roasting pan he’d bought for that purpose. He popped the hood on the Impala then walked around and picked Matthew up. He sat him down on the edge of the car so he could look at the engine. He pointed out things like the carburetor cap, the air filter and the cylinders on the engine. He pulled the dipstick out and wiped it across the hem of his tee shirt, showing Matthew how it was dirty and low.
“Now we have to get under the car and drain the old oil out,” Dean said as he put Matthew back on his feet and walked around to sit down on the ground. He laid down and grabbed the frame of the car and pulled himself underneath the car. “Get under here,” he told the little boy.
Matthew giggled and mimicked Dean, pulling himself under the car until he was lying shoulder to shoulder with him. Dean showed him how to unscrew the valve and catch all the oil in the pan. Once that was done, they slid out from underneath the Impala and walked back around to the front of the car. He showed him how the oil was a golden color when they poured it in and how to gauge how much was in it. When the oil was changed, Dean changed the air filter and closed the hood.
“Only one thing left to do,” Dean told him.
“Wash our hands?” Matthew asked, holding up his grimy, oily hands.
“Okay, two more things,” Dean chuckled. He looked at the houses on both sides of Brooke’s and the ones across the street. “Which neighbor does your mom like the least?”
Matthew pointed to the house to the left of them. “Her. She says ugly things about Mom.”
Dean grinned in response and picked up the half full roasting pan. “Okay, follow me and this is secret guy stuff. We don’t tell anyone else,” he said as the crossed over to the neighbor’s yard, oil pan in both hands. He paused, checked out to make sure no one was watching and poured the oil in the flower bed, making sure he spread it around evenly. Matthew giggled as he watched Dean. Once the pan was crumpled up and put in the trash can, he picked Matthew up, oily hands and all.
“Now we go wash our hands,” Dean told him.
“When do we get to change oil again?” Matthew asked.
“In three thousand miles,” Dean responded. “Probably in another month or so.”
“Awesome,” Matthew declared, grinning from ear to ear. When Dean opened the door, Matthew wiggled out of his arms and ran toward Brooke’s office.
“Mooooooom! Dean told me why the Impala is dirty!”
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