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They had spent the week slowly packing up the bunker, Sam having moved out with Eileen a few months prior. It was an inevitability that they would leave this place, but Dean and Castiel still had things to, well, process before they could make a big life change. Jack is back with them, and that actually became the big deciding factor to finally close up the bunker chapter of their lives.
Jack, all things considered, is still very much a child. As far as they know, Jack doesn’t really have any friends besides Claire and Kaia, and Castiel worries about his lack of socialization. Dean finds it very funny, poking at Castiel’s own stunted social skills, but he certainly doesn’t disagree. At the end of the day, Jack deserves a childhood that is not shackled to a narrative that involves saving the world and all that jazz. Castiel worried himself with where the best possible place to relocate for Jack would be, consulting nearly everyone in the contacts list for help (Dean had overheard Aaron’s voice on the phone saying “Oh you’re his gay thing”) while Dean focused his attention on the menial task of organizing and packing. It’s mind-numbing and physically demanding enough to push down his own anxieties, though if he lets Jack magically move heavy things into boxes a few times, that’s their secret.
But today is Saturday which means Dean is forcing them all to take a break from moving responsibilities. It also means a late brunch of some approximation of eggs benedict (Dean saw it on some brunch menu in a diner years ago, and had been morbidly curious about poached eggs and hollandaise sauce since) and fresh fruit and yoghurt for Jack and Castiel. Jack is still not much of a sleeper, mostly in that he doesn’t sleep in very often, and while Castiel enjoys the luxury of waking up well into the afternoon, he enjoys early mornings picking baskets of strawberries at the farmer's market with Jack more.
Dean’s on his second cup of coffee when he stops by Jack’s bedroom door. Castiel is taking an excessively indulgent mid-afternoon nap and judging by the locked bedroom door, he is not in the mood for a bedfellow. Jack, on the other hand, is sitting up in his bed, brows furrowed at his laptop screen while he furiously types away. Dean knocks lightly on the doorframe, causing Jack to look up and smile, a hint of embarrassment on his face.
“Whatcha up to, kid?” Dean asks, doing his best to lean casually against the doorframe. He’s still navigating his relationship with Jack – the boy is far too forgiving for his own good, and the things Dean did eat at him, but he knows now is, among many things, an opportunity to make it right with him.
Jack briefly looks back at his screen sheepishly. “Uh,” he says slowly, “I’m writing. Something.”
Dean raises his eyebrow at that, taking a sip of his coffee. “Writing? I thought we were done with prophetic writing,” he teases, and Jack gives him an honest scowl. He deserves it, but Dean loves how much he looks like Castiel when he does that.
“I’m not writing stuff like that,” Jack explains, setting aside his laptop onto the bed while Dean walks in and seats himself at the edge of the bed. “It’s much more, um, fictional. Less gospel-y. Gospel-like?”
Dean chuckles before gently ruffling Jack’s hair. “Just yankin’ your chain, kid.” He sets his coffee cup on Jack’s night table, internally wishing there was a coaster there but a heat stain on furniture here is not exactly of high concern. “So, what is it? Don’t tell me you’re already writing essays before you start school. I knew Sam would be a bad influence on you.”
Jack tilts his head to the side, another Cas-ism that makes Dean turn to mush. “What’s an essay?” he asks innocently.
“Not important. Nerd stuff. You’ll learn about that later,” Dean huffs. Truth be told, writing may have been the one thing Dean did not mind during his sporadic high school stint. He’s sure that if John had let him stay at one place for longer than a few weeks, he might have actually enjoyed analyzing literature and writing comparative essays on historical events. Instead, all he had were beat up Vonnegut volumes he stole from the school libraries in some deep corner of his closet. He’s not sure if one can get a degree on one author, but he’s pretty sure he’s qualified for at least a bachelor’s in Vonnegut.
He turns his head towards Jack’s laptop, pointing to it with his chin. “So, you gonna show me?” he says, but he backpedals when he sees Jack’s hesitation. “N-Not that you have to, I mean, we all have our private stuff. But, y’know. If you want.”
Jack contemplates for a moment before putting the laptop towards him. “No, it’s nothing secret. Maybe it’s a little, um, silly?” he mutters, chewing his words thoughtfully.
“Dude, I watch Dr. Sexy and we all watch Riverdale. Sam eats like an iguana. Everyone in this place is silly,” Dean laughs, trying to lighten the mood, and judging by the way Jack’s shoulders relax, it works. Jack brushes his hair off his forehead – they would have to trim it again soon, Jack having an aversion to longer hair bothering his ears and the back of his neck – and turns his attention back to his screen.
“I heard about it on the internet when I was looking up stuff about Star Wars and Riverdale,” Jack explains, and Dean shifts closer to him to see what’s on his screen. He sees a few websites open, but they look like just a bunch of text. “It’s called fanfiction. Do you know what that is?”
Dean scratches his chin. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Like, fans writing alternate versions of stuff, right?” Jack nods in confirmation. Dean’s pretty sure he’s heard Charlie talk about fanfiction (sometimes it gets difficult to parse what’s canon and not in her rants), and although he hasn’t participated in it much, Charlie had made a compelling argument for fanfiction being an excellent source of queer literature. Sure, Dean’s imagined Kirk and Spock getting it on every so often, though he’s not sure he needs to read a 20-page manifesto about it.
“So, is that what you’re writing? Fanfiction?” Dean asks, trying to keep his tone as non-judgmental as possible. He’s heard from multiple people that his gravelly drawl can often come off as sarcastic and biting even when he doesn’t mean it to. Sam called it toxic masculinity, but Sam calls most things Dean does toxic masculinity.
“Yeah, I found some on the internet that were really interesting,” Jack explains, showing some of them to Dean. “Though, a lot of them are really, um, sex-forward. I don’t really like those.”
Dean laughs at that. He can only imagine how horny people must get in these reimaginings. Hell, he’s seen what was written about his own sexual escapades in that ridiculous “Winchester gospel”, and those were real human encounters. Chuck had pointedly included many of his less-than-impressive performances as well, which was really more rude than necessary.
“You’re too young for those anyway,” Dean scoffs, and Jack nods solemnly. It’s easy for other people to forget how young Jack is, but Dean, Sam, and Castiel are acutely aware of his “true age”, so to speak. “So, what are you writing yours about?”
All of Jack’s previous apprehension seems to have dissipated as he passes the laptop over to Dean, a word document open. “You can read it if you want. There’s not much, and it’s mostly just ideas I guess.”
Dean scrolls to the top of the document, and in large, bold font at the top of the page it reads “Jack and Archie’s Adventures”. Dean raises an eyebrow at that.
“Wait, Jack? As in, you?” he asks, turning his head to see Jack smiling and nodding.
“Yeah, it’s called, um, self-something. Self-insert?” Jack replies cheerfully, explaining as if it’s a completely normal thing. Though, to be fair, it very well could be. Dean’s no expert. “Basically, people write themselves into different worlds and like, imagine themselves in it.”
Dean figures that it makes enough sense. Every kid out there has imagined themselves as a jedi, or a superhero. It seems to be more or less the same thing. He looks back at the document, and another question surfaces.
“I mean, that makes sense, but why Riverdale?” he asks lightly, a little bit of teasing in his tone. “Not exactly the most cheerful world to put yourself in, kid.”
Jack chuckles. “That’s true. I guess it’s more about getting to hang out with Ar- I mean, with the characters. That’s what I like.”
Dean catches what Jack almost said. It’s no secret, the kid’s face lights up any time Archie is on the screen. To Dean, Archie’s pretty unremarkable, a typical handsome male lead who gets all the ladies, but definitely the kind of guy young kids would idolize. He scrolls down further, his eyes scanning the words in the document.
“Well, it seems like it’s mostly Archie and you doing stuff here,” he mutters, sneaking a glance at Jack whose face is growing red. Dean places the laptop back on the bed and picks up his coffee mug, taking a long sip of the now lukewarm brew.
Jack clears his throat. “I guess I like Archie. I…” he trails off, his eyes avoiding Dean’s. He picks at his fingernails – a bad habit he picked up from Dean – before looking back up at Dean. “I guess I want to be his friend.”
“Yeah?” Dean replies, somewhat relieved Jack hadn’t said boyfriend. It’s ridiculous for his protective parental instinct kicking in over a fictional character, but he pays it no mind. “Why Archie? Isn’t he kind of boring?”
Jack gives Dean his best scowl before softening his expression. “No, he’s not boring,” he says defiantly. He ponders for a moment, and Dean takes another sip of coffee as he waits for Jack to continue his thought.
“He’s not boring,” he repeats, a look of concentration on his face. “He’s… loyal. He’s kind, he’s strong. He’s always there for his friends, even when it’s dangerous. Especially when it’s dangerous.”
Dean nods in understanding. “So, it has nothing to do with his handsome face?”
Jack blushes. “N-no, no! I mean, maybe a little…” he stammers, and Dean can’t help but smile. He knows Jack has no qualms about being attracted to boys or girls, but it’s a universal thing to be embarrassed about a schoolyard crush.
“I just think that when I go to school, I would want a friend like Archie.”
Something clicks in Dean’s head when Jack says that. In all the nights him and Castiel had fretted over Jack’s integration into society, they hadn’t really considered what Jack thought about it. Riverdale, admittedly, is a poor representation of what high school was going to be like (though not for the murder mystery part, they had that down), but otherwise Jack doesn’t really have a reference for what teenagers are like. There was that time Jack had run into those kids when he went off to do a supply run, a story he told them long after it happened, but that didn’t exactly end well for Jack.
“Well, I guess I can agree with that. The kid’s got heart, though sometimes to a fault,” Dean ponders, and Jack laughs at that in agreement. Before he can finish his thought, he sees Castiel appear in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Dean pats the spot next to him and Castiel shuffles his way towards the bed.
“What are we talking about in here?” Castiel asks, yawning big as he finishes his sentence.
Dean jerks his head towards Jack. “We’re just talking about how Jack wants a friend like Archie Andrews.” Jack tosses a pillow at Dean, and Dean revels in the small joy of being the one Jack confided in first, even if he leaked his little secret almost immediately.
Castiel, still half asleep, seems unfazed. “No dating, Jack. We’ve been over this,” he says matter-of-factly, and Jack groans.
“I don’t want to date him, dad, I just think he would make a good friend,” he says defiantly, crossing his arms. Castiel chuckles under his breath.
“Indeed, he would. Selfless, caring, and protective.” Castiel’s words seem pointed at Dean, especially after Castiel’s hand finds Dean’s, squeezing it softly. “He always puts himself before others and believes in doing the right thing no matter what. Reminds me of someone we know.”
Dean rolls his eyes, trying not to blush, while Jack looks at them somewhat confused. Castiel pecks Dean on the cheek before standing up. “Jack, I’m glad you want a friend like him. There are certainly far worse choices on that show,” Castiel declares, and Jack giggles. Castiel stretches his arms over his head with another yawn, his sweater riding up to show a bit of his belly, much softer now than it had been years ago. Dean resists the urge to poke it.
“Now, I think it’s time for late lunch. I’m hungry.”
Jack immediately perks up at that, turning to Dean expectantly. “Ooh, what’s for lunch, Dean?” Dean groans as he pulls himself up, moving behind Castiel and wrapping his arms around his middle, his chin perched on Castiel’s shoulder.
“How about we go for a drive to that diner? I could use some fresh air. And a burger.”
Jack smiles wide. “Just like in Riverdale?”
“Just like in Riverdale.”