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Dean feels like a shitty dad.
He doesn’t want to miss any of Bobby’s soccer games, in fact he tries his hardest not to. When Cas came home with Bobby after practice one day and handed Dean their game schedule, Dean made sure to arrange his work schedule so he could go every day Bobby’s team had a game. But every time he gets called into work, or he ends up having to stay late.
It goes the same way every time he misses one of Bobby’s games. Bobby will run up to Dean as soon as he walks through the door and stand there, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. (Dean swears he learned that shit from Sam.) “Hey little one,” Dean says, picking Bobby up and ruffling his hair. “Why are you making that ugly face?” He’ll ask, and then plant loud, obnoxious kisses all over Bobby’s face so as to kiss it away.
And Bobby will laugh and scream “stop it!” even though they both know that he doesn’t really want Dean to stop until the look on his face is all gone and his normal happy smile is back. “Daddy,” Bobby starts and Dean will know exactly what he’s about to say. “Where were you today?” he asks, and this time the look on his face is not an exaggerated pout, it’s not a mini-bitch face. It’s truly a look of hurt, and that kills Dean.
“I had to go to work, buddy,” Dean explains, tightening his grip on his son.
Bobby’s eyes, as blue as Castiel’s, will shine with unshed tears. “You always have to go to work,” he mumbles, looking down and away from Dean.
And then Bobby will be asked to be put down and spend the rest of the night with Cas, showing his disappointment to Dean by talking to him as little as possible until its bed time and he wants Dean to read him a story.
When they lay down to go to bed for the night, Cas will give Dean a play by play of what happened at the game that day. Every time, Bobby gets better and better. And it isn’t until the night of the fifth soccer game he’s missed and Cas tells him that Bobby scored two goals that Dean finally realizes exactly how much he’s missing.
“I’m a shitty dad,” Dean groans, leaning his head back.
“You’re not,” Cas says, looking up at Dean from where his head lay on Dean’s chest. “Don’t say that.”
“Bobby’s gonna end up hating me for this, Cas,” Dean mutters, fighting back tears of frustration. If people would just go to work when they said they would, if people would stop fucking calling in sick, he wouldn’t have to miss his own son’s games. “He’s gonna hate me for never being there.”
“He does not hate you,” Cas says, sitting up now. “He’s never going to hate you, Dean. You’re a good father.”
Cas presses his lips to Dean’s, and Dean immediately relaxes. He doesn’t say anything else about it after that, too busy pressing kisses to Cas’ neck and looking into electric blue eyes to focus on anything else.
***
A week passes by and before they know it, its game day.
Cas pours Bobby cereal, placing the bowl on the kitchen island. “You have a game today, Bobby, you need to eat up,” Cas says, smiling and ruffling Bobby’s shaggy, dark brown hair.
Bobby just shrugs his shoulders, looking down at the cereal in front of him. “Can I have my Batman spoon?”
Cas is frowning when Dean walks into the kitchen. “What’s the matter, babe?” Dean asks, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and pressing kisses to the frown.
“Aren’t you excited for the game today, Bobby?” Cas asks, ignoring Dean. “You scored more goals than any of the other kids last week. You’re the team’s star player.”
Bobby lets out a frustrated huff and turns to Dean. “Daddy, can you give me my Batman spoon? Papa won’t give it to me.”
Dean hands Bobby his spoon, frowning now too.
Dean leans down, arms crossed on the counter and watches Bobby eat his cereal. He’s usually so alive on game days, pumped to go and run around on the field for a couple of hours. He’s normally pulling Cas out of the door long before the game is even supposed to start. Even if it weren’t a game day, Bobby normally can’t sit still, running around the room before finally sitting down to eat his breakfast. Dean’s frown deepens as Cas comes up behind him and rubs a hand on his bare shoulder.
“Did you really score a goal last game?” Dean asks Bobby.
“Two,” Bobby corrects, picking the marshmallows out of his cereal.
“Two?” Dean asks, using a tone of astonishment. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Bobby shouts. “I did! I scored two goals!”
“Wow,” Dean stage whispers. He turns back to look at Cas to see that the frown on his face is now gone, a smile replacing it. “Do you think you’re gonna score again tonight?” Dean asks.
Bobby nods his head, putting his lips to the bowl to drink the milk from the cereal. “I’m the best soccer player,” he says, simply.
“Oh yeah?” Dean teases. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” Bobby says, standing on his chair. “Ask Papa.”
“Papa,” Dean says, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s neck. “Is Bobby really the best soccer player?”
“In the whole entire world,” Cas adds. Castiel’s smile widens then, and he leans in to press his lips to Dean’s.
“Papa,” Bobby groans. “Not again. You guys are going to give each other cooties.”
Dean laughs, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s before turning back to Bobby. “I can’t wait to watch the best soccer player in the entire world tonight,” he says, bopping his finger on Bobby’s freckled nose.
Bobby’s smile disappears then. “You’re gonna go to the game?” he asks, incredulously.
“Bobby,” Cas starts. “Don’t talk to your Dad that way.”
“He never comes,” Bobby replies.
That stabs at Dean. He’s bailed out on the games so often that Bobby can’t even believe Dean when he says he’s going to go anymore. Dean turns towards the coffee pot, away from the look of disbelief on Bobby’s face.
“Come on, bud,” Cas says, picking Bobby up off his seat. “Let’s go take a bath.”
Dean stays in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He swore he’d never let himself be a shitty father. He made a promise to himself and Bobby the moment he laid eyes on him that he would never ever let him down. But isn’t that what Dean’s done the last five weeks every time he’s missed a game? Constantly breaking promises to his son every time he doesn’t show up? He closes his eyes and lets out a deep, deep sigh.
Dean hears his phone ring from the bedroom. He doesn’t need to go check the caller ID to know who it is, but he does it anyway. ‘WORK’ is flashing on the screen. Dean considers not answering, he really does, but he’s the owner of the shop. There are lots of other things the call could be about besides someone just calling in sick again.
“Hello?”
“Dean,” Charlie’s voice comes from the other end. “So, you’re never going to believe this but-“
Dean groans. “Don’t say it, Charlie, please don’t say it.”
“… Kevin called in today.”
Dean closed his eyes, resting his head in his other hand that wasn’t holding the phone.
It’s official. Dean’s a shitty dad.
***
“Whoa,” Charlie says when Dean walks into the shop. “What’s up Macho Man? Have you been crying?”
“Shut up,” Dean mumbles. “Which one is the car you were working on?” he asks.
“No, seriously,” Charlie says, hopping off from her perch on the desk. “What’s the story?”
Dean sighs and turns to her. “Bobby has a soccer game today.”
Charlie is silent for a long time before asking, “So what are you doing here?”
“Um, working?”
Charlie rolls her eyes, shoving Dean out of the door. “Get out of here, Dean.”
“But Kevin-“
“Don’t worry, little ol’ me can handle taking care of a few cars until it’s time for Jo’s shift. Go watch my favorite little man’s game and give him a big old kiss for me.”
Dean turns to look at Charlie. “You’re the best,” he tells her. “I could kiss you right now.”
“Gross,” Charlie replies, her nose scrunching up. “And, I know.”
***
Dean gets to the field to find that the game has already started. There are about a dozen five year olds running around the field. He looks around the bleachers until he finds Cas, climbing up and sitting in the empty space next to him.
“Hey babe,” Dean greets, slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.
“Dean,” Cas says, and even he sounds surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Charlie took over the shift for me,” he answers. “Where’s Bobby?”
“Over there,” Cas says, pointing to number 62. He turns and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I’m glad you could make it,” he tells him.
“Me too,” Dean smiles, watching Bobby take the ball away from another player and kick it towards one of his other teammates. “Me too.”
***
Maybe the reason that Dean’s never been able to make it to a game of Bobby’s before is because the universe was being kind to the five year old. As it turns out, Dean is what is known as the extremely loud and obnoxious father.
There was a time when Bobby got the ball and the coast was clear for him to kick the ball down to his team’s goal. Dean was on the edge of his seat, hands balled up into fists that he hit against his knees while chanting “go, go, go.” Bobby almost made the goal until a kid from the other team stole it from him, shooting it into their goal. Dean stood up and shouted “No! Are you serious? Is he even allowed to do that shit?!”
“Dean,” Cas mumbles, pulling him back down into his seat. “This is a children’s game and you just said ‘shit.’ Do you think we can keep the language G rated?”
Dean nodded, patting Castiel’s knee. “Of course, babe, I was just getting into it, that’s all.”
Cas grinned and placed his hand on top of Dean’s, lacing their fingers together and watching the game.
One of Bobby’s teammates kicked him the ball a couple minutes later and Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s hand. “He’s gonna make it, babe,” Dean whispered, shaking his legs nervously. “Just watch.”
Bobby took off with the ball, weaving his way through the crowd of kids that were coming towards him, too quick for the kids chasing after him. Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting “Go Bobby!”
Bobby passed the ball to another teammate and towards the source of the shout. His smile lit up and he jumped up and down, waving at Dean. Even over the chatter of the crowd and the sounds of whistles blowing, Dean could hear Bobby shouting “Daddy, you came! Hi Daddy!”
Another whistle blew, signaling that the game was back in play and Bobby went into game mode. Dean spent the entire game screaming encouragement at Bobby and shouting complaints when his team was carded. They were in the last minute of the game when the ball got passed to Bobby.
“Come on Bobby!” Dean shouted. “Show them who the best soccer player is!”
“Dean,” Cas said, elbowing him in the side. “You’re probably embarrassing him.”
“Jesus Christ, Cas, how are you not into this? How can you be so calm? Our son is literally kickin’ the other team’s ass.”
Dean stood up when Bobby got closer to the goal. “Holy shit!” he yelled, grabbing onto the Dad standing up next to him. “He’s gonna make it! Come on, Bobby!”
Bobby turned to face Dean and grin. He ran towards the goal, bringing his knee back to kick the ball and-
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Dean shouted, jumping onto the bleachers. “Did you see that, Cas?! He’s freakin’ amazing!” He slung his arm over the poor guy standing next to him shoulder and continued to cheer. “My son just scored the freakin’ winning goal! Holy shit! That’s my kid!”
The game was over and Dean jumped off of the bleachers and ran to Bobby, picking him up and putting him on his shoulders. “You won the game, buddy!” he shouted. “You’re amazing.”
“Dean,” Cas said. “What are you doing? Put him down. You better not drop him.” Cas ran up to where Dean was bouncing Bobby on his shoulders.
Dean brought Bobby down off his shoulders and instead held him against his side. Dean ruffled his hair and planted kisses all over Bobby’s face.
“See, Daddy?” Bobby grinned. “I told you I’m the best soccer player.”
Dean grinned, wrapping the arm that was not holding Bobby around Castiel’s waist as they walked back to the cars.
“Yeah, Bobby,” Dean said, strapping him into his car seat and kissing his nose. “You’re the best soccer player in the whole entire world.”