Dude, I'm batman

[I know I am behaving badly, but I have every intention of behaving badly. As a matter of fact, this is exactly the kind of situation where one should behave badly--Thomas Fowler in The Quiet American]

“But Daddy says no mercy!” Mary is standing with her arms crossed over her chest with her jaw set in a way that is pure Winchester. She’s looking up at the instructor with an accusing glare that would make John proud were he still alive to see it. Next to her there’s a little boy—her sparring partner for the day—unconscious.

It’s the insolent, unforgiving, stubborn tone of Mary’s voice that makes Dean look up. Sam got him an iPhone and he still can’t figure the damn thing out so while Mary was pwning her class, he was—okay he was playing stick wars but throwing little stick figures up in the air so they smash on the ground is fun. He looks up to see the instructor lecturing Mary. He ambles over, taking his time and listening to what’s being said. It’s not until Mary’s posture changes and her eyes get teary that Dean picks up the pace.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Dean asks, ignoring the instructor and crouching down in front of Mary, his hands going to her shoulders. Her little bottom lip is quivering and her eyes are just beginning to stream tears.

“He says I can’t come back no more. Can’t help it if Uncle Cas takes longer to choke out.”

For the first time it occurs to Dean that perhaps letting Mary use Castiel as a sparring partner—and allowing her to choke him out—might have been a mistake. He stands up and puts on his ‘let’s negotiate’ face. This would be so much easier if Mary’s instructor was a woman.

“Come on, she made a mistake.”

“I’m sorry but as an instructor it’s my job to make certain that all of the students feel safe in here. He tapped her arm to be let loose and she ignored it. I can’t let that go.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, she’s a foot shorter than him!” And they don’t give Castiel a tap out option at home.

“That’s not the point Mr. Winchester. I’m sorry but Mary can’t come back.”

Mary’s tears are becoming sobs, the kind that hitch her breath and make her whole little body jerk. Dean can’t stand that; not since the day she was born which explains why she slept exclusively on his chest for the first two months of her life. It also explains the hard right punch to the instructor’s jaw.

It’s sort of like grade school after that. Everyone circles around them yelling fight! Fight! Fight! There’s a lot of rolling around and Dean is trying to play nice. He figures it’s not really fair. This guy fights five year olds on a regular basis, Dean fights demons but then the instructor has Dean on the ground and Mary is yelling ‘GET HIM DADDY!!!’

Playing nice is over rated. Dean slams the top of his head into the instructor’s face, blood gushes and the fight is over because one of them—not Dean—is too busy holding his teeth in to worry about fighting anymore.

“Come on, Mar,” Dean says, sweeping her up off her feet. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll find another school.”

Dean can already hear the sirens when he puts Mary into the Impala and peels out of the parking lot.
“You gots blood all over you, Daddy.”

“I know Baby Girl but it’s not mine,” he assures her with a grin. “Hey, you did good out there.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt Timmy but Uncle Cas is whole lot harder to make go sleep.”

“I know,” Dean nods sagely. “When we get home, I’m gonna let you do the talking.”

“Want me to give Momma a hug?” Mary asks. They’ve run this racket before.

“And a kiss. Tell her she’s pretty.”

“Kay…you bring flowers ‘cause you’re all bloody.”

“Mary…Sweetheart, I’m going to trade Sammy in for you.”

That results in Mary giggling a lot. “Aunt Samnantha will cry.”

“Yeah…you’re right. He’s a whiny little bitch. Alright, you’ll have to be my second partner in crime.”

“Kay,” Mary beams at him. He winks at her and pulls the Impala into the parking lot at the florist shop.

“Brooke’s angry?” the florist asks when Dean walks in. She’s already putting together a dozen pink roses.

“She’s gonna be,” Dean answers.

They’ve run this racket before too. It’s a pattern with Dean but if he were behaving, Brooke would think he was dying like the male leads in the chick movies she watches with Sam. He’s only thinking of her.

Dean Winchester best husband and father ever.

[What we've got here is failure to communicate.
COOL HAND LUKE]

( I don't even know what kind of warnings to put on this. Could possibly make you snort fluids out of your nose )

["Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive. But to be young was very heaven." - William Blake]

Things were shitty with Sam. They barely talked anymore and neither one of them could look the other in the eye. As a result, there was very little that made Dean smile these days. However, that very little did not include Matthew. He couldn’t help grinning at the kid, especially when said kid recognized that his dad was pretty down and did things specifically to make him grin.

Right now, Matthew was regaling him with Guitar Hero antics. He was playing ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ by the Scorpions. He wasn’t getting all the notes right but he was having a lot of fun doing it. Right now he was trying to play behind his back and headbang at the same time; semi-unsuccessfully. It didn’t matter, the whole point of the exercise was to make Dean smile and that part was wholly successful.

Part of it was that Matthew was so earnest about wanting Dean to be happy. Part of it was just the kid was funny. When he finished the song (just barely) he handed the guitar to Dean.

“Your turn, Dad,” he told him, a toothy, little kid grin on his face.

“Okay, you gonna stay and cheer me on?” Dean asked Matthew, one eyebrow quirking up at the little boy.

“Uh huh,” Matthew nodded as he bounced on the couch twice before plopping down next to Dean. “Kay, here it comes,” he warned him.

Dean really wanted to get out his lighter and teach Matthew how to hold up the lighter but he knew Brooke would kill him. Also, Matthew was five. He was a little young to be playing with fire. Instead, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Go turn off the lights then stand over there with the phone up in the air.”

“Why?” Matthew asked but he was already scrambling off the couch to do as Dean had told him to.

“Just what you do at a concert,” Dean responded.

“Can I go to one?” Matthew asked as he climbed up on a chair to turn the lights out and then ran back over to the spot Dean had told him to stand, arm raised high in the air.

“Yeah, when you get a little older I’ll take you to see someone awesome,” Dean told him as he started to play the opening notes of the song.

“Who?” Matthew continues to question him.

“Don’t know who’ll be awesome and alive when you’re old enough. We gotta wait and see,” Dean told him. He looked up at Matthew and grinned. “Right now, you’re slackin’ on your cheering duties.”

Matthew giggled and let out a high pitched whooo sound.

“Now we just gotta get your Mom in here and my rockstar fantasy will be fulfilled.” So he’d altered his fantasies a bit since finding out about Matthew. They more often included Brooke and the five year old than twins.

“Momma! Dad needs a groupie!”

Dean nearly choked laughing. “I did not teach him that word!” he hollered back at the home office Brooke was working in. He could see Brooke walking into the living room with a smile on her face out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, his fantasies had changed some but he was pretty damn sure he liked them better this way.

[An apple a day keeps the doctor away]

“Dude, pull over. I want some pie,” Dean smacked Sam in the arm with the back of his hand. It was well past midnight but the diner ahead had their lights shining brightly. The sign promised they were open twenty four hours a day.

“Dean, it’s nearly one in the morning. Brooke’s asleep…you don’t need pie,” Sam said, his fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel.

“We’ve been driving for hours. I need friggin’ apple pie,” Dean insisted. He wasn’t two, really.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes because there was no use in arguing with Dean. Particularly over apple pie. “You do remember what happened last time you insisted you needed pie?”

Dean glared at him. “Your bitch ass is staying in the car with Brooke. I’m going in to get the pie.”

“Good. Get me a hot dog with extra onions,” Sam smirked as he pulled the Impala into the parking lot.

Dean muttered under his breath, got out of the car and went inside to get the pie. He came out a few minutes later with two large coffees, two pieces of apple pie and a hot dog with extra onions. He passed out the food and Sam pulled out of the parking lot while Dean shoveled down pie. Once he was done, they’d switch drivers and Sam would eat his hot dog and pie.

“Apple pie good?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean answered, his mouth still half full. “You know what they say, Sammy. An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”