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[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.
“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.
