This was…well this was awkward to say the least. A part of him should have probably been angry for Dean taking off like he had. Instead, all John felt was the hot sting of embarrassment. When had Dean gone from being his little boy who tormented girls with dead spiders to a much bigger boy who romanced girls in the backseat of his father’s Impala?
John had seen the car roll into the parking lot less than five minutes before. After spending an hour wondering where his son had taken off to, he’d stormed out of the ratty old apartment to confront Dean. He just hadn’t been expecting a show.
With a deep breath, John stepped closer to the car and knocked on the backseat window, watching as his shirtless son’s head popped up--his fifteen-year-old shirtless son. The girl who was under him quickly covered herself, and John looked away so as not to embarrass her. By the brief look he’d gotten though, he would put her age at a little older than Dean’s. Very interesting.
“Uh…sorry, Dad, I mean, sir,” Dead stuttered, tossing the girl her shirt as he struggled to get his own back on. John pulled open the back door and motioned for Dean and his lady friend to exit. They both scrambled to their feet, hair a mess and clothing askew.
“And this would be…?” John started.
“Jessica,” the girl supplied, reaching her hand out and giving his a firm shake. He liked her boldness. She definitely wasn’t a timid fifteen-year-old who’d been caught by her schoolmate’s father, that was for sure.
“Jessica, I’m John, Dean’s father. Nice to meet you,” John said, giving her a tight smile.
“You too,” Jessica replied, a small blush creeping onto her features.
“I uh…I should probably just take her home,” Dean suggested, his nervousness apparent. He went for the driver's side door, and John snorted at his brazen move. The boy had balls. First he stole the car to take out this lady friend of his, then he was caught in the backseat about ten minutes away from sealing the deal, and now he thought his dad was just going to let him drive off again without a driver’s license? It was a nice try.
“Halt,” John ordered, and immediately Dean dropped his hand from the door handle. He’s almost thought he’d gotten away with it too by the disappointed look he gave John.
“You will not be driving this car for a month,” John said slowly, knowing that taking the Impala away from his son was about the biggest wound he could inflict on him. “Now I think its time the two of you called it a night. Why don’t you both hop in, and I will drive Jessica home.”
Dean’s eyes were pleading with him to let this one go, but John knew better. Dean was a good son; he listened to his father most of the time and followed orders like the best soldier he’d ever met. But if John didn’t keep his hand firm with him, there was no telling what Dean would do. Give them an inch, and they’d take a mile. Dean was at the age of rebellion, and the last thing John needed in his line of work was Dean bucking against authority. It was a dangerous thing and could get them all killed in the long run.
Holding his hand out, John waited for Dean to hand over the keys. Dean was reluctant, but finally he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled them out, tossing them to his old man. John caught them with ease and watched as Jessica and Dean climbed in the back seat together. John walked slowly around to the driver's side of the car; giving Dean a chance to make his apologizes before climbing in.
The drive to 121 Newbury Street was a short one, just a few blocks away. Dean walked Jessica to the door and John looked away, giving his boy some privacy for a goodbye kiss if he wanted one. When Dean returned, he crawled into the backseat instead of the front. He was sulking.
“Sam didn’t know where you went,” John started, pulling the car away from the curb.
“I told him I would be back in a couple of hours. All the salt lines were in place, I even added a couple more protections before I left,” Dean defended.
“You stole the car, Dean.”
“You let me drive it all the time!”
“Only when I’m in the car with you.”
“It’s not that big a deal.” Dean shook his head.
“It is that big a deal, Dean. Because if something happened to your brother, it would be your fault.”
“You left me alone with Sammy when I was eleven all the time; I think he’s old enough to take care of himself.”
“Don’t argue with me, Dean, because this isn’t about age, this is about reliability and responsibility. If something happened when I was gone, I would at least know the two of you were together, that you would take care of one another. You left Sam alone without telling me, and if something had happened that would be on your head, Dean.”
“But it didn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t have. You know that better than anyone else.”
“I know,” Dean agreed softly.
“Do you?” John asked.
“Yes, sir,” Dean whispered miserably.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, louder this time and with the respect the words demanded. John was satisfied with his son’s answer.
“Look…next time you want to go out…just let me know. I’m not unreasonable, Dean.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was a quiet in the car, a long silence in which neither of the Winchesters knew exactly what to say to the other. John had made his point and Dean had accepted it. Now it was time for things to go back to normal.
“She was cute,” John started.
“Dad, gross. She’s like half your age at least.”
“And how old would that be?” John asked. Dean was silent. “Come on, what, seventeen?”
There was a long pause before Dean finally replied. "Eighteen.”
"Eighteen? Really?”
“Yes, Dad.” Dean rolled his eyes.
“And how old did she think you were?” John asked with a smirk.
“I told her I was seventeen,” Dean admitted.
John glanced up in the review mirror at his son. Dean had grown incredibly fast over the last couple years and was already moving past the awkward early teenager stage. He was three months from his sixteenth birthday but anyone guessing would have added a year or two just by looking at his build and the way he held himself. Dean didn’t wear the insecurities and awkwardness normal fifteen-year-olds wore. There was a confidence about him that crackled-- and apparently attracted women as John was quickly learning.
“You’re a dog, Dean.”
“Can we not talk about this?” Dean begged.
“You have protection?”
“Oh my God, Dad, please stop talking,” Dean groaned.
“I just need to make sure. I mean, it’s not like we ever had the birds and the bees talk,” John shrugged. He could see Dean’s face turning bright red the more John spoke. Was it wrong he took some kind of sadistic pleasure out of embarrassing his son?
“Have you done it before, Dean?”
“Dad!”
“It’s just a question.”
“Please stop, take the car away for two months if you want, but please just stop,” Dean begged.
John sighed; he guessed he’d had enough fun. Pulling the car into the driveway outside the dumpy rent-by-the-month apartment, John parked and looked back at his son. Dean’s face was as red as an apple. “Look, in all seriousness, Dean, I need to be able to rely on you. I always have, and I always will. You taking off like you did…it didn’t make me angry, it disappointed me. If something ever happened to me—“
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, Dad,” Dean interrupted.
“If something ever happened to me, I need you to be there for your brother. I need to know that if I tell you something, you will do it and that you and your brother will always have each other’s backs,” John continued. “This is a rough business. There isn’t any room for errors.”
“Yes, sir.”
John let out a breath, sure his point had been reaffirmed in Dean's mind. “I count on you, Dean.”
“I know, sir.”
“Good…good. Now why don’t you go inside? Sam’s making some dinner.” Dean nodded and hopped out of the car at his father’s dismissal, hurrying into the apartment. John got out as well, locking the car up before following his son inside.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I wrote this for my beta reader Jess (which is why the OFC’s name is Jessica. Yeah there’s already one in the show, but meh, we can have another one. LOL). Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Feedback is love.
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