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“Morning, sunshine!” Dean’s voice fills the kitchen, way too chipper for the hour. Claire forces down the last bite of her waffles and rolls her eyes. Her dad’s got the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he puts dishes into the sink, conducting way more of a conversation than is necessary to ask if Cas and Jack are ready to go. Claire grabs her backpack and is in the hall lacing up her Doc Martens by the time Dean says “‘Kay, see you in a sec,” and hangs up with a big smile. He glances around the kitchen, obviously about to open his mouth to call for her, but she beats him to it.
“Already at the door, old man!” She waves jauntily when he spots her. “I know you’re busy chatting up Mr. Blue-Sky Eyes, but try to keep up.”
Dean fixes her with a glare that’s supposed to be stern, but the blush on his cheeks kills the effect. “Watch it, kid.”
Claire just snorts and steps out onto the porch. The crisp fall air seeps into her collar and she shivers. Winter’s getting closer - she’ll have to switch out her Moto jacket for an actual coat pretty soon. She pops her collar and pulls it closed in front of her throat. Behind her, Dean shuts the door and drops a knitted scarf onto her head.
“Who’s keeping up now, huh?” He pushes past her down the stairs and Claire huffs, pulling the scarf off her head and patting down her hair. Her dad’s never bundled her up like this before; the scarf was a gift from Cas. It’s ugly as sin, all lumpy blues and greens, but Claire dutifully wraps it around her neck. Just for the morning. It’ll go straight into her backpack before school.
“Claire!” An excited shriek rings out from next door, and Claire glances over to see Jack sprinting down the sidewalk, arms outstretched. Cas is still up on the porch, locking the door of the townhouse right next to theirs.
“Hey, kid,” Claire calls. She meets him at the bottom of the stairs, patting him on the back once or twice as he throws his arms around her waist. She can’t help the small smile that sneaks through her trained cool-girl demeanor (probably already wrecked, courtesy of the scarf). So sue her, Jack’s adorable. “Cool hat.”
Jack pulls on the tassels of his monkey hat, huge grin on his face, the gaps in his teeth on full display. “Thanks!” he lisps. “Daddy got it for me.”
Speaking of dads — Claire looks past Jack to find her father unabashedly ogling their neighbor (a daily tradition of the Winchester-Novak morning carpool). It’s like he’s not even aware he’s in public.
“You gonna open the garage?” she calls. Knowing it’ll be a while before Dean can tear himself away, she adds “Gimme the keys, I’ll get Jack in his seat and warm up Baby.”
Cas, who has joined them on the sidewalk after struggling with the door under Dean’s gaze, smiles gratefully at her. “Thank you, Claire.”
Snapping out of his trance, Dean mumbles “Yeah, thanks kid,” and tosses her the garage and car keys.
Claire makes quick work of the booster seat, familiar with the routine of straps and buckles. She checks to make sure Jack is comfortable, then slides into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition to warm up the Impala. Tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, she glances into the rearview mirror, only to see the two grown men standing way too close to one another to be socially acceptable, staring into each other’s eyes as if they don’t see each other every friggin’ day. It would be cute if Claire didn’t have to deal with this every morning.
“Jack, cover your ears,” she says with a wink into the mirror, and waits for Jack to gleefully clap his hands over his ears (he knows this trick by now) before slamming her palm onto the horn. Dean and Cas jump apart and Claire rolls the window down, leaning out and sweetly calling “Sorry, my arm slipped!”
Dean points his best you’re in trouble finger at her and she clambers over the backrest to join Jack on the backseat. She’s buckled in, a picture of innocence, by the time Dean and Cas get into the car.
“You gotta stop doing that.” Dean adjusts the mirror as if Claire had messed it up. “You’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood.”
“ You’re gonna make Cas late with all your flirt—”
“—Okay!” Dean hastily revs the engine, starting the radio at the same time. The volume’s still super high from one of their open-window freeway joyrides this weekend, and Cas twitches violently. Jack’s laughter peals over the wailing guitar as Dean backs out of the garage one handed, the other hand frantically toggling the volume knob.
“So much for me waking up the whole neighborhood,” Claire says smugly when they’re finally on the road.
Cas pats Dean’s shoulder reassuringly, hand lingering far too long, as usual. “Don’t worry, Dean. We’re right on time. Thank you for taking me to work.”
“‘Course, buddy,” Dean says, pulling them onto the main street. It’s bustling with commuter traffic. “Can’t have you sitting on the bus all morning.”
Every day. Claire gazes skyward and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket. They do this every day. Cas’ll agonize about inconveniencing them, Dean will tell him it’s no big deal, and they’ll spend the rest of the ride engaged in the absolute worst flirting Claire has ever heard. Also, it is a big deal — Claire’s had to get up half an hour earlier every morning of her junior year just so they can “take Cas to work real quick” before school.
Cas works on the opposite end of town. When Claire tried pointing this out, Dean just waved his hand and said it’s just what you do for friends . Not once has Claire ever had to get up early or rearrange her day for any of his other friends. Not even for Uncle Sam.
She finds it hard to actually be mad about it, though. In the six months since Cas and Jack moved in next door, her dad’s been more fun than he’s been in ages. He laughs more, wants to go out more, and has even started up some hobbies. (Woodworking in their cramped garage didn’t turn out to be the smartest idea.) He’s always been content with everything they have and would never complain to Claire, but she knows he’s been lonely.
Then Cas moved in next door, and within a week, everything changed. Claire knew Cas was special the second that her dad described the new guy next door as having “blue eyes, you know, like the sky.” She’s never gonna let him live that one down.
So, sure, having Cas and Jack around is great. But that doesn’t mean she wants to witness this train wreck every morning. Scrolling Twitter on her phone, she tries hard to block out the snippets of conversation floating from the front seat, but unfortunately can’t ignore it all. She accidentally tunes back in just as Dean’s finishing up a story about this year’s Staff Halloween Costume Competition. He’s going as an ‘80s P.E. Teacher and is weirdly, overly proud about the tiny red shorts that Claire was scandalized to see laid out on the couch this weekend. No one, no one her dad’s age should be wearing shorts like that. She shudders at the memory.
“I’m sure they will look very flattering on you,” Cas says sincerely, and Claire nearly barfs. She doesn’t miss her dad’s pink cheeks in the side mirror. Thank god, they’re pulling up in front of Cas’ work and this torture is coming to an end.
“Have a great day, you two,” Cas says, twisting over the backrest to give Jack a high five and exchange a smile with Claire.
“We will,” Claire says, making a show of looking out the window. “Gorgeous day. Look at that blue sky. Remind you of anything, Dad?”
Dean chokes on his swig of coffee. Eyes watering, he waves off Cas’ concerned attempts to slap him on the back.
“Okay. Bye Cas,” he manages, voice strained.
“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas replies gravely. “See you tonight.” He gets out of the car and shuts the door, and Claire doesn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes follow him all the way into the building. She clears her throat.
“We gonna go, or what?”
Dean straightens up, putting his thermos back between his legs. “You’re in trouble, kid.”
“It’s just payback,” Claire says innocently, inspecting her nails. Dean grumbles, but they pass the rest of the ride to the school in relative peace, Jack roping them both into a spirited game of I Spy.
They drop Jack off first, since the elementary school is two blocks away from the high school where Claire goes to class and Dean’s the gym teacher. Jack turns back three times to wave at them as he bounces up the path to his Kindergarten classroom. His normal-sized backpack looks huge on him. Claire thinks he’s the cutest kid in the whole damn world, not that she’d tell anyone.
“So, kiddo,” Dean asks, maneuvering Baby through the throngs of parents dropping off their students. “You thought any more about your birthday? It’s coming up pretty quick.” He parks in a less-populated area of the high school lot, to keep the teeming masses away from his car.
Claire unwinds Cas’ scarf and stashes it in her backpack before hopping out and slamming the door behind her. “Nah, not much. Gimme a bit more time.”
“Don’t take too long.” Dean slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and locks the car. “All right. Have an awesome day. I’ll see you after school.” He pulls Claire into a one-armed hug and she squeezes against his side for just a moment before huffing and pulling away.
“See ya,” she calls, starting toward the main building while her dad heads over to the gym. “Tell Cas hi from me when you text him at lunch.”
She doesn’t miss the Friends flip-off that Dean sends her, his two fists raised high above his head as he bangs them together. She just laughs and heads to class.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Claire is rummaging through Cas and Jack’s fridge when the kid sneaks up on her.
“Claire, Claire, I want Froot Loops!” He tugs on the hem of her sweater, peeking around from behind her back.
“I don’t think your dad would be too happy if I got you all hopped up on sugar.” She finds the grapes she saw in there yesterday, and pulls them out from the crisper drawer. “We get fruit. Our dads should be back soon to start on dinner.”
Jack nods without complaint, the good kid that he is, and wanders back to the table to find his seat. He watches her expectantly as she washes the fruit.
This is a regular occurrence—Claire watches Jack while Dean and Cas go on their weekly grocery runs (or literally any errand Cas needs to run) that absolutely aren’t dates , according to Dean. At first, when Cas tried to decline, convinced that it would be too big an inconvenience, Dean insisted. “We live next door, you don’t have a car, it only makes sense,” he said. Now that was a conversation to witness. The man was desperate to spend any time he could with his favorite neighbor. Claire snickers at the memory.
She places the small bowl of seedless grapes in front of Jack, who immediately picks one up with careful fingers. Claire gets a kick out of watching the kid eat. He savors every bite like he’s never tasted a grape before, when Claire knows for a fact it was his afterschool snack only three days ago — she gave it to him. She ruffles his hair and goes to put the rest of the fruit back in the fridge.
“You doing anything exciting this weekend?” she asks over her shoulder. There’s a box of suspicious-looking leftover takeout that’s made a home on the back of a shelf. Most likely something Cas forgot about. He gets busy with his work, and aside from the dinners that the two families share, Cas doesn’t cook a lot. Claire pulls it out and tosses it into the garbage, scrunching up her nose at the foul smell that escapes from the paper container.
“Uhm,” Jack mumbles around a grape. He takes his time to chew and swallow his food before speaking (because he’s civilized, unlike Claire’s father). “Daddy and I are gonna bake an apple pie for your birthday!”
Claire suppresses a grin as she pulls out the chair next to Jack. It’s the first she’s heard of it, and she wonders if she’s supposed to know about this birthday pie. “A pie, huh?”
“Yeah! Because it’s Dean’s favorite,” Jack replies brightly without a speck of irony (because the kid is five), and Claire can’t stifle the bark of laughter this time.
Realistically, she knows that Cas must also have feelings for Dean. Otherwise she can’t imagine a grown man being fine with her dad doting over him the way he does. But to bake Dean’s favorite pie for Claire’s birthday? The guy has it bad.
Her thoughts are interrupted by a huge gasp and Claire’s eyes dart up. She’s on high alert, worried that Jack’s choking on a grape or something. Instead, she finds Jack looking back at her, wide-eyed and stricken. He clasps his hands over his mouth
“Oh no! I wasn’t supposed to tell!” Jack looks up at her with what can only be described as the saddest puppy-dog eyes that immediately tug at Claire’s well-guarded heartstrings. “Please don’t tell Daddy?”
She bites back a laugh—Jack is clearly distressed—and shoots him a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Jack flashes a relieved smile and turns back to his grapes. Claire leans her chin on her hand, elbow resting on the table, as she watches him peel one of the grapes with extreme focus. An idea begins to brew.
“So...” she starts carefully. “Does Cas talk about my dad a lot?”
“Yeah! He thinks Dean is very special.” Jack nods, wiping his sticky fingers all over the front of his shirt.
Claire’s elbow slips from the table in surprise. It’s her turn to stare back at the kid, wide-eyed. “He said that?”
Jack tilts his head, an action that reminds Claire so much of his dad, and thinks about it. “Well, I asked him if Dean was his boyfriend, because Jesse’s mom just got a new boyfriend and they’re always together, just like Dean and Daddy. And Daddy said Dean is very special.”
A wave of excitement rushes over Claire as her plan starts to take shape. Oh, this is good. It’s the confirmation she needs to move forward.
“How would you feel if Dean was your dad’s boyfriend?”
Jack looks up from his bowl, his brow furrowed curiously. “What happens if they’re boyfriends? Can we still hang out?”
No one can ever know how much Claire loves this kid.
“Yeah buddy, we might even hang out more.” She nudges Jack gently with her shoulder. “But I also think it would make your dad really happy.” She has a fleeting thought that it might be a little unfair, appealing to a kid’s love for his father. But it’s true.
The change in Jack’s demeanor is immediate.
“I want him to be happy,” he exclaims, all sparkly eyed and eager. He’s all but forgotten the last grape in his bowl. “How can they be boyfriends?”
“I have an idea—” Claire grins at him, picking up his last grape and popping it into her mouth. Jack doesn’t even protest. He watches her with the same intense focus he showed that grape peel and nods along earnestly. “—but it needs to be a secret between us. Try and keep it this time, alright?”
She stands from the chair, ruffling Jack’s hair once again. She picks up the bowl to drop it in the sink, and turns back to Jack.
“Go wash your hands. We’ve got work to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Claire puts her plan in action the next evening, as she and Dean wind down at the end of the day with an episode of The Great British Baking Show. Claire is slouched low on the sofa, her phone in hand while she absently scrolls Twitter. When she looks over, Dean is mumbling about how David deserves to be Star Baker this week (“He’s consistent, they always overlook the dark horse!”).
“Hey Dad?” she says, straightening up in her seat with an elbow resting on the back of the sofa. “I know what I want to do for my birthday.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean’s distracted, and bolts up when the Star Baker is announced, gesturing wildly at the TV. “Dude, Steph again ? She’s good, but come on!”
Claire glances back at the TV where the wholesome British people are congratulating each other like actual friends. American reality TV would never. She smiles—she likes Steph.
“Dad.” She tries again, tapping at her father’s shoulder.
Dean relaxes back into his seat and turns to face her. “Right, right, sorry. You were telling me what you wanted for your birthday.”
“We haven’t done anything fallish yet this year. I think we should invite Jack and Cas and check out the harvest festival,” she says, hoping it comes across casual as opposed to conniving.
Dean blinks a few times, like he’s trying to process Claire’s words. He narrows his eyes skeptically. “ That’s what you want for your birthday? I was preparing myself for you to ask me to buy you a fifth. Or a car.”
The comment prompts one of Claire’s signature eye rolls. “Haha. Very funny. No, I just thought it’d be nice.” She perks up a bit in her seat, the old sofa creaking beneath her. “We can pack a lunch, Jack can pick a pumpkin. You can hang out with Cas and stare into his eyes some more.”
“Claire,” Dean groans, but Claire barrels on.
“I’m just kidding. Calm down. It’s just that without a car, Cas and Jack can’t do all this fall stuff, and Jack’s classmates are bragging to him about all this cool stuff they’re doing.” She dials up the puppy eyes she learned from Jack. It also isn’t a lie; when Claire suggested the festival, Jack’s eyes lit up with excitement. It seems his classmates have all already checked out the races and the rides.
Dean frowns. “Well, that’s bullshit. Yeah, if that’s what you really want, of course we can do that. Maybe we can carve some pumpkins after. Give Jack something to brag about.”
“Cool.” Claire plays it off like it’s no big deal. She slouches back down, sinking into the squeaky leather. “It’s just… he’s like a little brother, you know?” She peers up at him through mascara heavy lashes, and is pleased to see her words seem to have the desired effect.
“Well, if that’s what you want.” There’s a soft fondness in Dean’s eyes as he pulls her into a one-armed hug.
Things are going exactly as planned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Claire’s birthday falls on a Saturday, perfect for their outing. She checked out the harvest festival’s website last night, making mental notes of the activities that’ll force her dad and Cas into the closest possible quarters. She figures that if they’re gonna do this, they might as well do it right.
Dean asks her over breakfast if she’s sure that she doesn’t want any other friends to come along, and she just shakes her head. “I kinda just want a family day today,” she says, and revels in the flustered little smile that Dean gives his coffee cup.
This is gonna be great.
When Cas and Jack meet them out on the sidewalk after breakfast, it’s clear that Jack upheld one of his ends of the bargain. Cas is dressed like a farmer, plaid shirt over patched jeans and (pretty cool) boots, with a dark jacket draped over his arm, his usual trenchcoat nowhere in sight. The shirt’s a bit small for him, though. Claire side-eyes it until she sees Dean’s jaw literally drop, like in a cartoon. It’d be embarrassing if it weren’t the exact reaction she’d been hoping for.
While Dean stutters out a greeting, she subtly fist-bumps Jack behind Cas’ back. Jack stifles a giggle. He’s wearing some overalls with yellow rain boots and a striped bumblebee jacket, the tassels of his monkey hat swinging onto his shoulders. Claire barely suppresses the urge to squeeze him.
Her dad somehow manages to open the garage and get himself into the car without once looking away from Cas, and Claire hopes he pulls himself together before he actually starts driving. In Dean’s defense, though, Cas isn’t doing much better. Claire recommended oh-so-innocently to Dean that it’d be nice if they dressed up a little bit for her birthday, even if they’re just going to the harvest festival. Dean’s made a pretty good effort with his best green Henley and some dark-wash jeans that Claire picked out for him at one of those perfume-ridden mall stores over the summer. He looks nice, he really does, even with the addition of a lumpy Cas-scarf wrapped around his neck.
Cas obviously thinks so, too, because he keeps touching Dean’s arm when he talks, more so than usual.
Claire grits her teeth and figures she’s gotta get through all the gross stuff to get these two doofuses to where she wants them. For once, she’s on board with the flirting.
They make it to the site of the festival without Dean crashing the car, a small miracle in itself. On the way over, Claire whispered some of her plan to Jack in the backseat while their dads chatted obliviously, and Jack now jumps right into action, throwing himself out of his booster seat the second Claire unbuckles him and dashing toward the entrance.
“I wanna do the three-legged race!” he hollers as the others hurry to catch up. Dean casts one despairing glance at Baby, parked in the muddy lot, before fixing his eyes on Cas again. Claire mentally pumps her fist. If dirt on his car can’t distract him, then things are going swimmingly.
Dean buys tickets for all of them (waving off Cas’ offer by saying it’s his kid’s birthday, after all), and Jack immediately drags them over to the games area. The air is heavy with the smell of popcorn, caramel apples, and hay, and Claire takes a deep breath. It’s not exactly how she pictured her seventeenth birthday, but right now she finds she doesn’t want anything else.
Between her and Jack, they lead their parents through an exhaustive series of “High-Contact Games,” bypassing any stand that doesn’t encourage some sort of touching. Dean and Cas stumble their way through the three-legged race, arms wrapped tight around each other, collapsing in a heap on the field after losing handily to Claire and Jack. They dunk their heads underwater in the partner apple bobbing contest, coming up for air with their noses a centimeter apart, both biting into a big red apple. (This activity has the added benefit of Dean drying Cas’ hair with a fluffy towel, and Cas wrapping Dean’s scarf back around his neck after they’re dry.) They tiptoe their way through the “haunted mansion” and Claire holds Jack’s hand tight so Dean and Cas are left to stumble along through the dark together, jumping whenever a cardboard skeleton pops out of the wall.
By the time they make it through the hayride (Cas and Dean squished together on one bale, Claire and Jack on another), the dads are both glowing, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. They walk close together as they make their way through the festival, heads tipped toward one another as they talk quietly. Claire and Jack exchange a triumphant grin and trail along behind them.
“We’re doing so good,” Claire whispers down to him. “Are you ready for the big finale?”
Jack nods vigorously, nearly smacking himself in the face with his caramel apple. “I practiced in my room last night. I’m ready.”
Claire flashes him a thumbs up and shouts ahead, “Hey you guys! We’re starving. Can we do the picnic now?”
It takes a little while to get back to the Impala, with how busy the festival’s gotten and how slow Dean and Cas are when they refuse to walk without their arms touching, but eventually they make it back to the potholed parking lot and Dean hefts the cooler out of Baby’s trunk. There’s an awkward shuffle as Cas offers to carry it and Dean waves him off, only for Cas to insist, and they end up lugging it between them for the ten-minute walk to the big field next to the festival grounds.
They lay a tarp on the damp grass before putting down the huge pile of blankets that Claire dug out of the hall closet. She and Jack quickly sprawl out across half of the blanket island, leaving a little bit of room for Dean and Cas to settle down with the picnic basket. Cas’ butt ends up on the grass, and instead of moving, Claire suggests “Just put your legs over my dad’s, like I’m doing with Jack” and watches both the men’s eyes flare dramatically before—lo and behold—Cas actually does it, scooting closer to Dean and gingerly laying a leg over his. Dean’s hands shake as he opens the clasp on the picnic basket.
It’s a struggle, but Claire manages to keep her cool despite dying with laughter inside.
“Okay!” Dean says, rubbing his hands together and peering into the basket. “First order of business.” He lifts out a pie, and Claire pretends to look surprised. Her dad hands it to Cas, who holds it out to Claire like an offering.
“I know it’s not a birthday cake, but Jack and I made you an apple pie to celebrate,” he says, voice a bit unsure, as if he expects her to turn her nose up at it. She smiles and takes it.
“Thanks, you guys! It looks amazing.” It really does. Cas may not be the best knitter, but he got the lattice of the pie crust just right. There are a few little indents and divots where Jack obviously took a prod at it. Claire swallows a bit. She can’t get mushy now. There’s a plan.
“You know,” she says, “apple pie’s my dad’s favorite. It’s so sweet of you to think of him.” Dean shoots her a warning look and she answers with a shit-eating grin. Cas smiles sheepishly and digs back into the picnic basket, and Claire prods Jack in the ribs. He’s up.
Jack jumps to his feet, eagerness radiating from every limb as he climbs over Claire’s legs and stands right in front of Dean. He whips out the puppy eyes and Claire silently congratulates the kid.
“Hey Dean?” Jack says in his most angelic voice. He tugs on his hat tassels. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
There’s utter silence on the picnic blanket as Dean stares at Jack, computing. Cas is frozen with one hand in the picnic basket, eyes down but obviously hanging on to every sound that Dean makes (which, right now, is nothing more than some slightly strangled breathing).
“Dean?” Jack asks again, and Dean snaps out of it, shaking his head.
“Um. I— uh. No,” he stammers, lamely, eyes darting over to Cas. “No, no boyfriend. Uh. Why?”
Jack takes a huge breath, and Claire holds hers. “Do you want to be my daddy’s boyfriend?” He says the phrase with all the air of someone who definitely did practice in their bedroom.
“Jack!” Cas’ head snaps up and he stares at his son, mortified. “That’s— that’s not an appropriate thing to say to Dean.”
Jack glances back at Claire, brow furrowed, obviously unsure about this turn of events. Claire quickly scrambles to her knees and pats Jack’s shoulder. She looks her dad right in the eyes.
“Listen. Dad. And Cas. Jack and I love you very much. But we are—okay, fine, I am—tired of watching your truly horrific cringe-inducing old people flirting every. damn. day . The best birthday gift you can give me is to get your heads out of your asses and just get together already.”
And with that, she stands up, pie in one hand, slinging her other arm around Jack’s shoulders. “I’m gonna take my pie and Jack and go pick some pumpkins. Give you guys some time. Text me later!”
She doesn't stick around long enough for either of them to reply (not that either of them seem capable of forming many words, judging by the shell-shocked expressions on their faces). She tugs Jack off the blanket and they start making their way across the grass.
As they walk, Jack looks up at her with curious eyes. “Did it work? Are they boyfriends now?”
Claire glances back over her shoulder and sees the two men just staring at each other. They’ve been close all day (Claire mutters a mental you’re welcome ), but she recognizes the new nerves in their posture. Legs still gently touching even with the additional space, their heads tilted ever-so-slightly in toward each other. Right on the precipice of something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think it worked.” She grins down at Jack, triumphant. “You know, I’ve always wanted a little brother.”
There’s a short pause while Jack tries to process this new information. It may be early, but Claire has a good feeling about this. She knows Jack’s connected the dots when he lets out an enthusiastic squeal and hugs her tightly around her hips. She laughs and pats him on the back.
Jack pulls away and also looks back at Dean and Cas, who are now both sporting embarrassingly gushy smiles, practically holding hands on the picnic blanket. God, they’re nauseating. Claire turns her attention back to the kid beside her when she feels Jack take her hand. He has a knowing glint in his eyes, suddenly looking so much older than his five years. He peers up at her, beaming, his wide grin showing off his still-missing teeth.
“You’re right, Claire. They do look happy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many birthdays (and now, to Claire's dismay, corny anniversaries) later, she and Jack still share the same knowing smiles.