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Proud of Their Boys
Title: Proud of Their Boys
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Bobby, Wee!Chesters, John
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
faerie_wish13: Supernatural Creature + New Year
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,498
Date Written: 11 January 2017
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
"BALLS!" Bobby swears, spitting out his spiked cocoa as sirens blare for the third time already this week. He'd heard some awful caterwauling just a minute before, but he'd thought he'd have enough time to finish his mug before going to find the boys and determine what imaginative use Dean had found the firecrackers the boy thought Bobby didn't know he had. He's just going to have to take them away from him, Bobby decides as he stomps out his back door in search of the brothers.
He glances up at the sky as he marches, determined to find the boys before the Sheriff can pull up to his door yet again. If he's got the situation in hand before he gets here, maybe he won't throw his ass in jail and take the boys into custody until John can get home after all. He pauses at the sight of one of the clouds before the sun. It's the kind of puffy, white cloud which, when he'd been Sammy's age, might have made him stop and wonder. Even now, he wonders. He wonders what Mary thinks looking down at her boys, then shakes his head, mutters, "I'm trying, Mary," and continues after Dean.
The loud pops of the boy's fireworks echo across his land, but Bobby knows his place well. He knows where every car and truck is, what's really wrong with them if anything, and where the nearest parts are to fix them. He knows the truths of what they hide, where to head for whichever weapon, spell, or trap he needs, and which cars to be sure to keep empty and safe because they happen to be the boys' favorite hiding places. He knows the old Impala that Dean likes to pretend he can drive and the Oldsmobile that has enough trunk space that Sammy can pull his long legs into it and hide comfortably in its compartment for hours when the children are fighting.
He knows every square inch of his place, and he knows, as he nears the sound where he hears the ringing pops and the high-pitched squalling sound that makes him fear for whichever poor cat Dean's found, that something isn't quite right with his territory. He withdraws a small vial from an inside pocket of his tattered jacket and keeps his fingers closed around its cool surface as he continues his approach. He quickens his pace, but his boots fall silently on every piece of dirt and rock over which he crosses. Something ain't right here, and heads are about to roll.
A force barrels into his legs as he makes a turn. He reaches out and catches the kid just before Sammy can fall. "Sam, what's wrong?"
"It's awful! Just awful!" the boy wails, tears streaking down his face. "Dean's at it again, Unca Bobby!"
Bobby shakes his head even as his eyes check the vehicles surrounding them. "I dunno where the boy keeps finding these animals from."
"I dunno, but he's got a kitty cat this time! Make him stop! Please make him stop!"
"Don't you worry, son. If Dean's tied fireworks to that cat's tail, I'm gonna tie 'em to his -- " Bobby stops himself short just barely. " -- his feet," he finishes instead of what he was about to say. He doesn't need another speech from John about watching his language around the children.
"I wanna see that," Sammy says, his trembling lips beginning to curve upward into a grin.
"Why don't you come with me," Bobby tells him, making the order sound like a suggestion, "and you will. Just stay behind me. I don't want you to get in the line of fire . . . works."
"All right!"
Bobby gently pushes the grinning boy behind him and continues on, his fingers still tight around the bottle of holy water in his pocket. As he turns the next bend, he finds Dean standing out in the open between the vehicles, a stick of dynamite still clutched in his hand. Bobby's eyes widen at the sight, and he forgets all about his promise to watch his language. "DEAN!" he roars. "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU FIND THAT?!"
"I thought you knew he had it -- " Sammy starts behind him.
"I THOUGHT HE HAD FIREWORKS," Bobby blazes, "NOT DAMN DYNAMITE!" He's always known the time would come when he'd have to be more careful in hiding his tools, but he still hadn't expected the boy to find his stash of dynamite first. He'd thought he would pocket a knife or maybe even a pistol, but not dynamite!
"I did have fireworks," Dean mutters. "Used the last of him."
"AND ON WHAT POOR ANIMAL DID YOU USE THE LAST ONE ON?!" Bobby roars, his mustache bristling with his fury, as he snatches the unlit stick out of the boy's hand.
"I -- " Dean starts to say, but just then Bobby catches sight of a tail waving around the edge of an old, blue truck. His mustache twitches even as he points back at the house. "Go," he orders.
"But -- " Dean starts to protest.
"Go," Bobby commands again. "NOW! And take Sammy with you!"
"Some cat," Bobby remarks just as a shot rings out across his lot and the tail abruptly stops waving.
John walks around the truck as Bobby nears. He's holding the Demon's body up and shaking his head. "Damn things keep getting closer to home."
"They're gonna find out sooner or later, John," Bobby tries yet again to tell him.
"Later. Much, damn later."
"Really? How you gonna explain this one?" Bobby asks. The Demon has a long, furry tail, but that's where his resemblance to a cat ends.
"Dean already knows they exist. He saw his mother killed, remember?"
"Can't exactly forget. There were two of 'em, wasn't there?"
John breaks into a grin even as he nods in answer. "Yup."
Bobby smiles. "Boy's gonna be a damn good hunter one day."
"Yeah. One day. But I want 'em to grow up first."
"I do, too, but . . . "
"But we don't always get what we want. Yeah, yeah. I know the speeches, Bobby. I know every word you're gonna say, but damn it, they deserve to have a chance at a real life!"
Bobby looks at his old friend, sees the anguish in his haunted eyes, and hushes. After a long moment, he finally agrees, "All right, but how we gonna explain it?"
"I'll have a friend stop by," John answers, after thinking another moment while leaning against the old truck's tail gate. "Say he's a scientist and these critters escaped from him."
"That reminds me." Bobby looks around them. "Sheriff must've been headed after somebody else this time."
"Don't tell me he's already been called out here -- "
"Twice."
"TWICE?! DAMN IT, BOBBY! I'VE ONLY BEEN GONE THREE FUCKING DAYS!"
Bobby shrugs. "He's your son, John."
John looks down at the dead Demon at their feet and recalls how his kid sent the Demon's buddy packing with a stick of dynamite tied in his tail. That sucker surely exploded before he got back to Hell. Finally, he grins. "Yeah," he agrees. "He is my son, but he's gonna be his own man." His boys would grow to be their own men -- hunters only if they chose the life -- even if he had to kill every damn Demon in the country to let it happen.
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"Happy New Year."
John looks up in surprise and realizes it's beginning to get dark on the first day of the new year. "Fuck." He chuckles. "Yeah. Happy New Year, Bobby, and thanks."
The men nod, and within the next five minutes, John's gone, leaving Bobby to go back to his sons and explain again why little boys shouldn't be playing with dynamite sticks or fireworks. He does his best, but much later that night after Sammy's tucked into bed and before he starts trying to make Dean retire for the evening, the older boy looks up expectantly at him. "Well?" he asks when Bobby doesn't say anything.
Bobby's mustache quirks. "Well, what?"
Dean grins. "I did good, didn't I?"
There's another lecture beginning on the tip of Bobby's tongue, but gazing into the boy's eyes and knowing how proud he is that he protected his brother, Bobby shuts up and nods. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Ya did good." He reaches out and tousles Dean's hair, then leaves the boy to fuss and correct his style as Bobby washes dishes, still grinning. The boys are in better hands than John knows, better hands than his own. From his kitchen sink, Bobby looks out at the night sky, remembers that cloud from earlier that afternoon, and recalls wondering what Mary would think if she could see her boys. Now he knows. She'd be proud just as he and their father are. He hears a sound behind him and looks up with a grin as Dean starts drying the dishes.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Bobby, Wee!Chesters, John
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:
faerie_wish13: Supernatural Creature + New YearWarning(s): None
Word Count: 1,498
Date Written: 11 January 2017
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
"BALLS!" Bobby swears, spitting out his spiked cocoa as sirens blare for the third time already this week. He'd heard some awful caterwauling just a minute before, but he'd thought he'd have enough time to finish his mug before going to find the boys and determine what imaginative use Dean had found the firecrackers the boy thought Bobby didn't know he had. He's just going to have to take them away from him, Bobby decides as he stomps out his back door in search of the brothers.
He glances up at the sky as he marches, determined to find the boys before the Sheriff can pull up to his door yet again. If he's got the situation in hand before he gets here, maybe he won't throw his ass in jail and take the boys into custody until John can get home after all. He pauses at the sight of one of the clouds before the sun. It's the kind of puffy, white cloud which, when he'd been Sammy's age, might have made him stop and wonder. Even now, he wonders. He wonders what Mary thinks looking down at her boys, then shakes his head, mutters, "I'm trying, Mary," and continues after Dean.
The loud pops of the boy's fireworks echo across his land, but Bobby knows his place well. He knows where every car and truck is, what's really wrong with them if anything, and where the nearest parts are to fix them. He knows the truths of what they hide, where to head for whichever weapon, spell, or trap he needs, and which cars to be sure to keep empty and safe because they happen to be the boys' favorite hiding places. He knows the old Impala that Dean likes to pretend he can drive and the Oldsmobile that has enough trunk space that Sammy can pull his long legs into it and hide comfortably in its compartment for hours when the children are fighting.
He knows every square inch of his place, and he knows, as he nears the sound where he hears the ringing pops and the high-pitched squalling sound that makes him fear for whichever poor cat Dean's found, that something isn't quite right with his territory. He withdraws a small vial from an inside pocket of his tattered jacket and keeps his fingers closed around its cool surface as he continues his approach. He quickens his pace, but his boots fall silently on every piece of dirt and rock over which he crosses. Something ain't right here, and heads are about to roll.
A force barrels into his legs as he makes a turn. He reaches out and catches the kid just before Sammy can fall. "Sam, what's wrong?"
"It's awful! Just awful!" the boy wails, tears streaking down his face. "Dean's at it again, Unca Bobby!"
Bobby shakes his head even as his eyes check the vehicles surrounding them. "I dunno where the boy keeps finding these animals from."
"I dunno, but he's got a kitty cat this time! Make him stop! Please make him stop!"
"Don't you worry, son. If Dean's tied fireworks to that cat's tail, I'm gonna tie 'em to his -- " Bobby stops himself short just barely. " -- his feet," he finishes instead of what he was about to say. He doesn't need another speech from John about watching his language around the children.
"I wanna see that," Sammy says, his trembling lips beginning to curve upward into a grin.
"Why don't you come with me," Bobby tells him, making the order sound like a suggestion, "and you will. Just stay behind me. I don't want you to get in the line of fire . . . works."
"All right!"
Bobby gently pushes the grinning boy behind him and continues on, his fingers still tight around the bottle of holy water in his pocket. As he turns the next bend, he finds Dean standing out in the open between the vehicles, a stick of dynamite still clutched in his hand. Bobby's eyes widen at the sight, and he forgets all about his promise to watch his language. "DEAN!" he roars. "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU FIND THAT?!"
"I thought you knew he had it -- " Sammy starts behind him.
"I THOUGHT HE HAD FIREWORKS," Bobby blazes, "NOT DAMN DYNAMITE!" He's always known the time would come when he'd have to be more careful in hiding his tools, but he still hadn't expected the boy to find his stash of dynamite first. He'd thought he would pocket a knife or maybe even a pistol, but not dynamite!
"I did have fireworks," Dean mutters. "Used the last of him."
"AND ON WHAT POOR ANIMAL DID YOU USE THE LAST ONE ON?!" Bobby roars, his mustache bristling with his fury, as he snatches the unlit stick out of the boy's hand.
"I -- " Dean starts to say, but just then Bobby catches sight of a tail waving around the edge of an old, blue truck. His mustache twitches even as he points back at the house. "Go," he orders.
"But -- " Dean starts to protest.
"Go," Bobby commands again. "NOW! And take Sammy with you!"
"Some cat," Bobby remarks just as a shot rings out across his lot and the tail abruptly stops waving.
John walks around the truck as Bobby nears. He's holding the Demon's body up and shaking his head. "Damn things keep getting closer to home."
"They're gonna find out sooner or later, John," Bobby tries yet again to tell him.
"Later. Much, damn later."
"Really? How you gonna explain this one?" Bobby asks. The Demon has a long, furry tail, but that's where his resemblance to a cat ends.
"Dean already knows they exist. He saw his mother killed, remember?"
"Can't exactly forget. There were two of 'em, wasn't there?"
John breaks into a grin even as he nods in answer. "Yup."
Bobby smiles. "Boy's gonna be a damn good hunter one day."
"Yeah. One day. But I want 'em to grow up first."
"I do, too, but . . . "
"But we don't always get what we want. Yeah, yeah. I know the speeches, Bobby. I know every word you're gonna say, but damn it, they deserve to have a chance at a real life!"
Bobby looks at his old friend, sees the anguish in his haunted eyes, and hushes. After a long moment, he finally agrees, "All right, but how we gonna explain it?"
"I'll have a friend stop by," John answers, after thinking another moment while leaning against the old truck's tail gate. "Say he's a scientist and these critters escaped from him."
"That reminds me." Bobby looks around them. "Sheriff must've been headed after somebody else this time."
"Don't tell me he's already been called out here -- "
"Twice."
"TWICE?! DAMN IT, BOBBY! I'VE ONLY BEEN GONE THREE FUCKING DAYS!"
Bobby shrugs. "He's your son, John."
John looks down at the dead Demon at their feet and recalls how his kid sent the Demon's buddy packing with a stick of dynamite tied in his tail. That sucker surely exploded before he got back to Hell. Finally, he grins. "Yeah," he agrees. "He is my son, but he's gonna be his own man." His boys would grow to be their own men -- hunters only if they chose the life -- even if he had to kill every damn Demon in the country to let it happen.
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"Happy New Year."
John looks up in surprise and realizes it's beginning to get dark on the first day of the new year. "Fuck." He chuckles. "Yeah. Happy New Year, Bobby, and thanks."
The men nod, and within the next five minutes, John's gone, leaving Bobby to go back to his sons and explain again why little boys shouldn't be playing with dynamite sticks or fireworks. He does his best, but much later that night after Sammy's tucked into bed and before he starts trying to make Dean retire for the evening, the older boy looks up expectantly at him. "Well?" he asks when Bobby doesn't say anything.
Bobby's mustache quirks. "Well, what?"
Dean grins. "I did good, didn't I?"
There's another lecture beginning on the tip of Bobby's tongue, but gazing into the boy's eyes and knowing how proud he is that he protected his brother, Bobby shuts up and nods. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Ya did good." He reaches out and tousles Dean's hair, then leaves the boy to fuss and correct his style as Bobby washes dishes, still grinning. The boys are in better hands than John knows, better hands than his own. From his kitchen sink, Bobby looks out at the night sky, remembers that cloud from earlier that afternoon, and recalls wondering what Mary would think if she could see her boys. Now he knows. She'd be proud just as he and their father are. He hears a sound behind him and looks up with a grin as Dean starts drying the dishes.
The End