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The look of desperation on Dean’s face is intense when you walk into the kitchen.
“How is this supposed to—” he starts but doesn’t finish. You can’t help but chuckle.
“Dean, baby,” you say, putting your phone on the kitchen counter. “That’s an arm, not a leg.” Dean frowns, then pulls his head back.
“Oh, wow,” he says, “it is.” He pulls the costume off Emma again, gently leading one of her pudgy little arms into the sleeve.
“I an a dragon, mama,” Emma says from where she’s sitting on one of the stools that’s around the kitchen island.
“Yes, you are, peanut,” you say, smiling at her, then use the chance to check out your husband.
He’s wearing the medieval LARPing costume Charlie brought over: a brown suede shirt with some chain mail on it, fake leather pants that in your biased opinion could be tighter, and something with leather straps over his forearms, what Charlie says is called a vambrace.
He looks good. Of course he looks good. It’s out of the bag, it’s been in storage for a while but Dean would make a trash bag look sexy.
With an aha of success, he pulls Emma’s hood over her head. Her limbs are where they’re supposed to be and she looks so cute in the green dragon costume that it makes your heart melt a little. Dean finally looks up at you, only to raise his eyebrows and check you out.
“Milady,” he says with a suggestive grin while Emma buries her little fists in the fabric on his arm, pulls herself up, his arm going around her to help her stand, make sure she doesn’t fall. You roll your eyes.
“Lady of the 100% polyester, maybe,” you say, referencing the cheap material of your costume. You got it last minute and it’s not even the right size, but Emma insisted that you wear a princess outfit so you finally budged.
“Princess is a pretty dress,” she said, holding your face in her little hands, looking at you like she was explaining to you how the world worked.
“I think you look hot,” Dean says. You chuckle a little, flattered.
“Wow!” Charlie says, walking in with JJ on her hip as she sees Emma. “Someone get me my sword of Bruncvik, we’ve got a scary dragon to slay!”
Emma giggles. She loves Aunt Charlie.
“Charlie, I an dragon,” she clarifies, holding one of her hands up in what you think is supposed to be a claw.
“I can tell!” Charlie answers, then turns to you, passes the baby to you. You pick JJ up, hold him against you and run your hand through his soft hair.
“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?” you ask Charlie. A part of you almost hopes she’ll say no. It’s not that going out for Emma’s first ever trick or treat isn’t the best thing you could imagine doing, but the thought of leaving JJ for a whole two hours, not getting to put him to bed, is a little terrifying.
“We will be fine,” Charlie says, reading between the lines of what you are really asking her. You kiss JJ’s soft little head, inhale his smell. He babbles in response.
“They’re gonna be fine,” Dean says, seeing the same worry in your face. You nod, and pass JJ back to Charlie, and he immediately wraps one of his tiny fists into her long, auburn hair.
“We better get going,” Dean says, and he grabs Emma around the middle. She squeals. Dean grins at her, showing off the lines around his eyes, then adds: “It’s time to feed the dragon!”
There’s kids running around outside and you greet the occasional neighbor. Emma’s holding one of your hands and one of Dean’s, and she’s concentrating on walking in an intrinsic pattern, jumping with one foot and then taking a normal step with the other, then jumping twice again. You throw a look at Dean.
He’s observing everything around him in that way he does, watching without looking like he’s watching. You had nearly thought you would never have to see that look again. After you actually managed to get out of hunting, after talking about it for years, after everything, it took a while for Dean to not look around that way anymore, like he’s waiting for something bad to jump out at him.
He was just starting to lose that look when Emma was born. The first time you and him went for a walk with her, the look was back.
The world can be scary even without knowing what you and Dean know and seeing that look on him is bittersweet. Sweet because you know he’s looking after you, his family. Bitter because you wonder how many moments of peace he really gets. Dean notices you looking at him, turns to you.
“What’s up?” he asks, and you purse your lip.
“You hear from Sam?” you ask, to distract from what you were thinking. Dean nods, smiles a little.
“He says he would have loved to come but he’s buried in work.” You nod.
“Of course he is,” you say, chuckling a little, add: “We should force him to come over. Cook for him or something. Force him to play with his niece and nephew. They're gonna think he's just some weird, mythical creature if he keeps this up.” Dean nods.
“Sammy’s always been all work, no play,” he says.
“Unlike you,” you say with a cheeky grin.
“Unlike me,” he replies, also grinning. You look him up and down again.
“You know,” you say, “never had a thing for any of that Braveheart stuff, but you make it work.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean replies. You nod, and then he asks: “You wanna know the best thing?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “This thing has a built-in chastity belt.”
You guffaw but a second later Emma pipes up. “Chasisi bell,” she proudly repeats and Dean widens his eyes at you, before quickly saying: “Let’s get some candy, lil’ dragon.”
At the first house there’s already a bunch of kids standing around, as well as a few adults. One of them is Sarah, who works at the pre-school Emma goes to.
“You guys look great!” she says and you smile at her, before you need to stop your face from falling because aside from Sarah’s husband, there’s also her ten-year-old son, Sid. Sid the shit, as you and Dean have been referring to him after he once pushed Emma on the playground for no reason other than, well, that he was a little shit.
Protectively, you lay your hand on Emma’s shoulder and notice that Dean has done the same. He nods at Sarah’s husband, Tom.
Sarah’s nice, if a little bit of a pushover, but Tom has felt the need to one-up Dean since you moved here. You’re pretty sure he feels threatened, Dean’s good looks and charm having made the eyes of more than one wife on your street stray. Tom’s not bad looking, but he manages to ruin that first impression immediately with the second impression, which is that he’s an arrogant, insecure douche. Your words this time.
“Don’t you look adorable?” Tom asks with a snarky tone. He’s not wearing a costume, still in his suit from work. You’re not sure if he didn’t have time to change or if he just likes to make the point that he was at work. Everyone was at work today, Tom, you pompous ass, you think.
The door opens, and an older lady whose name you can never quite remember stands there.
“Trick or treat!” the kids say, while Emma shouts at the top of her voice: “Dragon aarrrgh!” She’s method.
You pass her the little pumpkin bucket to collect her sweets in and she immediately starts haggling with another kid, offering up a chocolate bar for some M&M’s.
At the next house you’re talking to Sarah about something or other, while Tom tries to talk to Dean.
“How’s the garage, man?” he asks, never looking Dean in the face, just like he always does. Dean gives his most charming smile, tells him that business is going well. Tom can’t help himself, gives some comment about how he guesses there’ll always be people who need their cars fixed, and he says it in a way that annoys the hell out of you, but you don’t say anything.
Emma passes her bucket to Dean on the third house, tired of carrying it. Dean snatches something out of it, but Emma is quick to lecture him, telling him that dragon chocolate will give him a tummy ache.
As you walk to the next house, Dean lays his arm around your shoulders, pulls you close.
“This isn’t so bad, is it?” he says, his mouth close to your ear. You wrap your arm around him, lean your head towards him.
“Except,” you whisper, “if Tom say one more thing in that tone of his, Sam might have to get me out of jail for attempted murder.” Dean chuckles, leans over to you again.
“I think he might be into you,” Dean says, then brings his lips to your ear. “Can’t blame him, you’re a damn hot damsel.” You bite your lip, look into Dean’s eyes.
“Oh yeah?” you ask, and then you kiss him while you’re still walking. Your hand finds his where it’s around your shoulder and you interlock your fingers.
“Hey, love birds,” you hear Sarah next to you. You stop kissing Dean, which is hard, and turn to her.
“Emma, stop for a second,” Dean says, and Emma stops bouncing around, stands there while staring down at her stomach, rubbing the fluffy fabric of the costume there.
“We’re gonna turn in,” Sarah says. “Tom’s tired and Sid’s had a lot of sugar today.”
You look over at Sid, see how he’s using his wooden sword to hit a rhododendron bush in someone’s front yard over and over. A kid you think is a friend of his, dressed as a skeleton, is standing next to him, watching.
“Well, have a good night,” you say to Sarah and Tom, turning towards them, Dean’s arm still around your shoulders.
“Thanks, see you on Monday?” Sarah says and for some reason you cannot fathom, Tom salutes Dean.
“Take it easy, Jackie Stewart,” he says and Dean nods at him, only the hint of a smile on his lips, when suddenly you hear it.
The scariest sound in the world. Emma screaming and then crying.
You and Dean both spin around. Sid and his friend are close to hear, and they’re basically crowding her, laughing, while Emma’s little face is a grimace of fear.
“Hey!” you and Dean yell simultaneously and then you’re both rushing to her. It takes every ounce of self control in you to not shove those stupid kids away from her, and then you’re picking her up, and she holds on to you, crying.
“What did you do?” Dean says and the boys shut up, his loud and clear voice making their eyes go wild.
“We just told her there were monsters in her bedroom,” Sid’s friend says, honestly looking a little terrified at the look Dean is throwing him. “It was just a joke!”
You try to be the voice of reason, but you’re definitely happy your brother-in-law is on his way to becoming a big-shot lawyer because after you kill Tom, you’re gonna roundhouse kick these kids.
Calm down, you tell yourself, but the rage at someone – anyone – trying to scare your little girl is hard to contain.
“You can’t do that,” you tell them, while Emma is wailing into your ear. “She’s little, okay? She doesn’t understand that that’s a joke.” Sid’s friend has the decency to look a little ashamed, but Sid doesn’t. Like father, like son, you think.
“Get outta here,” Dean says, and you can tell he’s fuming as well.
Meanwhile, Sarah and Tom have made their way over. Dean raises his eyebrows at Tom.
“You gonna say something?” he asks. Tom just shrugs.
“Boys will be boys,” he says. You take a deep breath through your nose. Dean notices and his hand lands on your back, rubbing it, his own anger dissipating to soothe yours. But it’s too late.
“They’re gonna be assholes, is what they’re gonna be,” you say and it seems to have some effect on Tom, as he at least looks taken aback.
“I’m so sorry, guys,” Sarah says, and she looks like she is. Emma’s calming down while you’re rubbing her back.
“I think we’ll call it a day,” Dean says, looking at you and her. You nod. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Tom. But his non-chalant, boys-will-be-boys, fixing-cars-is-somehow-less-than bullshit just got to you.
“Yeah, I think it’s time for bed,” you say, forcing a smile on your face, and Tom and Sarah return it.
That’s the good part of the ‘burbs – everybody’s happy to forget when something uncomfortable happens. Dean nods at the two, and then you and him start walking. You’re only down the street, so you don’t really talk until you’re almost back to the house.
“Don’t let them get under your skin like that,” Dean suddenly says. You sigh, look down at Emma. Her head is again your shoulder and she’s just kind of staring off. She seems fine, but you can still feel the remnants of your anger flood through you.
“I know,” you say, because Dean’s right. “They just… p-i-s-s me off.”
You make it to the door, and Dean opens it for you. Charlie’s sitting at the kitchen counter, her laptop open in front of her.
“Hey,” she says, looking up, “how was the over-commercialised hunt for sugar?” You smile at her, a genuine one this time.
“We decided that enough booty had been booty-ed,” you answer. Charlie grins, and you’re reminded of why she’s Dean’s best friend.
“Gotta love some booty,” she says.
“Right on,” Dean replies, then asks: “JJ go down okay?” Charlie nods.
“Out like a light,” she says, while she’s moving her laptop into her bag.
“I’m gonna get this one to bed,” you say and Charlie waves at you.
“Night night Emster, night mama,” she says and Emma only raises her little claw hand again.
“I’ll walk Charlie out, lock up and then I’ll come up,” Dean says, and you nod when he squeezes your shoulder.
Emma’s pliable when you put her in her PJs and get her ready for bed. The excitement of the evening might be part of it, but you also get the impression she’s deep in thought.
“You okay, peanut?” you ask while you’re brushing her hair and she’s weirdly not acting like the world is ending. “What are you thinking about?” Emma looks at you.
“Is a monster in my room?” she asks.
“No, sweetie,” you say and you hug her, squeeze her tight. “There’s no such thing as monsters. They’re not real.”
It comes out of you before you even think about it. There’s no such thing as monsters. You know damn well that that’s not true.
You change into your own PJs and put up your hair and then you walk together to Emma’s room. Dean’s there, just turning on the night light, still in his costume.
“There’s my girls,” he says and he picks up Emma, carries her to her bed and lays her down.
“Just checked on JJ, he’s all good,” Dean says over his shoulder to you. He pulls the covers over Emma, then tugs her in. He leans over her.
“Toes washed?” he asks, making Emma giggle. “Boogers cleared out? Belly button powdered?”
“Dada, you so silly,” Emma says and Dean grins at her. You walk over to the two of them, lay your arm over Dean’s back.
“Time to get some sleep,” you say, but Emma’s squirming. Her eyes go to the built-in closet at the far end of her room, the one that has her clothes and some toys in it.
“What is it?” you ask her.
Dean picks up on it quicker than you do. He pushes himself up and walks over, stands in the closet as far as that is possible. He looks around, comically, as if he’s looking for something. He picks up one of the toys, a little horse doll, and holds it to his ear, as if he’s listening to something it’s saying to him. You suppress a laugh. After a few seconds, he lowers the doll, holding his hand over it like he’s covering the speaker of his phone.
“Apparently the scariest thing in this room is a little dragon,” he says, “and the horse is asking if you’ve seen it?” Emma raises her arms.
“I an the dragon, dada,” she says, sounding almost offended. “I’n not scary.”
“Oooh,” Dean says, then puts the horse to his ear again.
“No, she says she’s not scary,” he says. “She’s just a little girl dragon who wants to give all her candy to her dada.”
“Nooo!” Emma says, pointing at Dean, but she can’t help giggle and neither can you. “My candy!” Dean listens to her, then turns back to the horse.
“She says it’s her candy,” he says.
Suddenly you feel a lump in your throat and you need to swallow. Dean’s looking for monsters in his daughter's closet, but he’s doing it because that’s what dads are supposed to do. Not because he’s Dean Winchester.
He nods once more, then puts the horse down and walks back over to you. Emma’s all smiles.
“Bed time story?” he asks, beaming down at her.
“I’ll go check on JJ,” you say and give Emma a kiss. “Sleep tight, peanut dragon.”
JJ’s sound asleep and you watch him for a while, his tiny chest rising and falling, the little o-shape of his mouth.
He’s perfect, just like Emma is perfect and sometimes it overwhelms you. To know that they’re perfect and the world out there is not.
With a sigh you walk back into the hallway, just as Dean is coming out of Emma’s room. He pulls the door after him, leaving it ajar a little while you lean against the wall.
“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low as he walks to lean against the wall opposite you. “You okay?” You smile at him.
“I am,” you reply, also keeping your voice low, “just got a little freaked out.” Dean nods.
“Yeah, me too,” he says. Then he suddenly grins, looks proud.
“You really ripped Tom a new one, you know,” he says. Your face drops into your raised hand.
“Am I gonna have to apologize to him?” you ask.
“Nah,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Let him be a little scared of you.” You chuckle.
“Thank you,” you say, looking at Dean, and it’s almost a whisper.
“For what?” he asks, frowning a little.
“For making me feel like I’m not totally screwing up this whole parenting thing,” you reply.
Dean pfffs, then walks over to you, holding your elbows where your arms are crossed over your chest.
“No one I’d rather do it with than you,” he says. You purse your lips, feeling tears sting in your eyes, and then Dean leans down, kisses you. He tastes like candy. You pull your head back.
“Did you steal Emma’s M&M’s?” you ask, a shocked look on your face. Dean moves closer and cages you against the wall.
“You need to take that to your grave,” he says and kisses you again, while you chuckle against him. Your hand wanders up and cups his face. When Dean pulls back, you look into his eyes.
“I love you,” you say, stroking your thumb over his cheek.
“I love you, dragon mommy,” he says, grinning. You grin back, then let your hands wander down, over his chest and then lower.
Dean’s eyes follow your hands, but then he looks back up at you, eyebrows raised, that cocky grin on his lips.
“Now,” you say, “let me see if I can’t take a crack at that chastity belt.”