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i.
The first time Jeremy saw the green-eyed boy, he had an infant attached to his hip.
He’d gotten a job that summer at the Safeway in Sioux Falls as a cashier, hoping to save up enough money to buy himself an Atari 2600 after giving up hope that his begging and pleading would sway his mother. He had finished helping old Mrs. Flaherty bag her groceries when he heard a whine like a scared kitten, followed by a stern, clipped voice from the man next in line.
“Calm your brother down, Dean. Don’t drop him.”
The man looked the worse for wear, an oversized brown leather jacket hung over his built frame, worn and faded jeans covering the tops of muddy work boots. His black hair was a mess, as though he hadn’t seen the right side of a comb in over a year, and the dark bags beneath his eyes betrayed an exhaustion Jeremy was certain this man would rather die than admit to feeling. Looking over the belt, he caught the short, silent nod of the boy he assumed to be Dean, who held a baby no more than eighteen-months old to his side. The man, he assumed the young boys’ father, huffed and began loading the conveyor with boxes of instant mac-and-cheese, cereal, and Lunchables.
As he scanned the items through, Jeremy couldn’t help but steal a few glances as the boy attempted to soothe his younger brother. The boy could be no older than six himself, yet he held his brother to him with an ease Jeremy didn’t think he’d ever felt holding his infant cousins when they’d been born. The boy hadn’t responded verbally to his father, but he ducked his head close to his brother’s ear and whispered things Jeremy couldn’t hear. He assumed they were pacifying promises from the way the baby relaxed into his brother’s hold and tucked his small face into the crook of his neck. The boy - Dean - swayed to a gentle rhythm, and Jeremy thought he could hear the softest hum of Hey Jude coming from under the boy’s breath.
Their father, all the groceries scanned and waiting to be bagged, turned to look at his sons beneath him. His hard eyes crinkled with a softness Jeremy up to that point couldn’t tell existed as he took in the sight of his infant son drifting off to an early afternoon nap in his big brother’s arms.
“Why don’t you pick something for the road, Dean? Something you and your brother can share.”
Wide green eyes and a freckled face shot up to meet his father’s, and a shy smile lit his delicate features as he nodded once more, with the seriousness of a general, turning to the task of finding a snack for himself and his brother. He settled on a Twinkie, removing one hand from his brother’s back to offer it to his father, quickly moving it back to the baby’s shoulder blades once the treat was taken and scanned, his other hand never slipping from under his brother’s thigh, arm slung around his lower back. He adjusted his brother on his hip only once, the baby letting out a drowsy babble before replacing his head on his brother’s shoulder, eyes closed under his floppy brown bangs as he sucked his thumb in his sleep.
Jeremy had never thought much of kids. He had, like, a thousand younger cousins, his mom being the oldest of three sisters and three brothers, all with kids of their own. He knew they were loud, and sticky, and smelly, and annoying, and they loved getting into his things when they came around for the holidays. He was a sixteen year-old boy whose only wish was to spend the last month of summer vegging out and playing on his brand-spanking-new Atari. But even he had to admit it was sweet, watching the young boy gently pull his brother’s thumb from his mouth and replace it with a dark green pacifier he seemed to have pulled from nowhere, laying the spit-soaked digit along with the rest of his undoubtedly sticky hand on his opposite shoulder without a thought.
The baby didn’t rouse, and Jeremy turned to the man, relaying his total. “That’ll be $62.81.”
The dad counted out the bills and change, then bagged and gathered the groceries, handing the small vanilla cake to Dean with a wink and hustling his boys out of the store.
Jeremy turned to the next woman in line with his best customer-service smile, the boy with the green eyes already far from his mind.
ii.
The second time Jeremy saw the green-eyed boy, he had a toddler attached to his hip.
He didn’t recognize the ten-year old as the same silent and gentle boy he’d once had come through his check-out line at first. Though Jeremy hadn’t worked at the Safeway long, it had been long enough to get used to the phenomenon of having the faces of people slip from his memory as soon as they were out of sight. Perhaps it was the similarity of the encounter the second time that allowed him to remember.
What drew his attention was the feeling of a breeze along his back as a small child raced behind him, turning abruptly when he reached the end of the clothing rack and nearly careening into the display of winter boots set in the middle of the aisle. He rolled his eyes at the kid’s antics, going back to looking through Walmart’s selection of t-shirts when he heard a young voice call out:
“Sammy! What’d Dad tell you about running in the aisles? You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
The boy he’d seen clutching his little brother in that Safeway had nearly doubled in size. But beyond the physical, nothing else had changed. The same flannel over a t-shirt, the same torn jeans, the same spiky brown hair, and the same wide green eyes. Not even the kid’s largest and most high-maintenance accessory had changed (much); he still held a child in his arms, slung on his hip.
The toddler was not the boy’s younger brother, who Jeremy was now confident was the child who had just been scolded. This new child had bright blonde hair in two pigtails on either side of her head, wore a bright blue shirt with a denim skirt, and had a look of unfiltered glee in her eyes as her older brother (?) held her aloft, securely to his side.
The younger boy, who looked about six, came shuffling over to his older brother, rubbing his arm where it had clipped the display. The older boy gently cuffed the younger on the back of his head. “What on earth are you running from, Sammy? Y’know Jo can’t gonna hurt you while I’ve got her.” The toddler grinned wickedly as the older boy did, ruffling his brother’s hair as Sammy flushed and pushed him away indignantly.
“I’m not scared of Jo, Dean! She’s just a baby!”
“Yeah, takes one to know one, squirt.” Dean grinned as he pulled his grumbling brother back to the kid’s section, saying loudly as they went, “Keep running in the store and Ellen’s gonna whoop your butt. I know JoJo here’s terrifying and all, but maybe if you’re extra sweet to her she won’t bite.”
Jeremy chuckled to himself, amused at the siblings’ banter, having caught their interaction in his periphery. He didn’t expect to run into them again, he was only at the Walmart to pick up a few new shirts and maybe a new pair of jeans, after all, but walking past the kids section to the registers, he saw Sammy pull out a pair of blue Superman pajamas and turn to his brother with exuberance.
“Look, De! Superman! Canwegetthemcanwegetthemcanwegetthem?”
Distracted by the display of sunglasses the aisle over offering three pairs for the price of one (Jeremy had a knack for losing his sunglasses, a talent really), he missed the indulgent grin Dean shot his little brother, before masking it with fake disgust.
“Ew, Sam. Why would you want Superman pajamas? Everyone knows Batman is way better.”
“They do not!”
“Do, too.”
“Not!”
“Do!”
“Not!”
A sigh so long-suffering, it could only have been managed by an older brother worn down by the bane of his existence: his younger siblings. “Fine, you can have your stinkin’ Superman pajamas…IF Ellen says yes.”
Sam let out a “Yes!” and he turned to start racing towards wherever ‘Ellen’ was. He was already sprinting when Dean called behind him, “No running!” and he slowed to a very fast-paced walk.
Jeremy gathered his handful of six new sunglasses (hey, if they’re on sale-) and turned to continue his way to the front, but caught a movement so similar to the last time he’d seen Dean and his brother that the déjà vu stopped him in his tracks. Dean gently reached up to catch Jo’s tiny wrist where it was suspended at her chin, the toddler having started sucking her thumb sometime during the boys’ brief argument. Jeremy heard as he passed, “Remember what I told you about the thumb-suckin’, JoJo? You’re gonna make your teeth all wonky. You don’t want crooked teeth like Sammy, now do ya?”
The little girl shook her head vehemently, and Dean grinned at her. “I didn’t think so. Now let’s go find your mama and see if Sam’s getting his precious jammies.”
The last Jeremy heard was a tinkling giggle drifting behind the the toddler and the boy, as he finally arrived at the cash, four new t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and six new pairs of sunglasses ready to be taken home.
iii.
The third time Jeremy saw Dean, he had yet another toddler attached to his hip.
He hadn’t expected to see the boy at Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard, but then again, he hadn’t really expected to see the boy anywhere else, either. It was late April, and the only other auto shop in Sioux Falls had appointments booked till the end of June. His red ‘82 Chevy Camaro had been making a more than concerning rattling noise of late, and his fiancée, Erin, had been on him to get it checked out, refusing to ride in his ‘deathtrap’ of a car until he did.
The man who answered the phone when he called in, Bobby Singer, said he had a mechanic available to take an appointment. He could bring his car in any time to get it looked at. He thanked the older man profusely, and agreed to be in that afternoon.
As he drove past the rusted metal gate, he could just make out the rising voices caught in a fierce argument over the mystery noise his car was making. He killed the engine as his curiosity won out over politeness.
“I told you, boy, you can’t keep skimping by in yer classes! While yer here, yer here to learn English and maths, no matter what that no-good daddy of yers says!”
“What am I supposed to do, Bobby, just leave him to hunt all on his own? You’re the one who’s always saying family’s the most important thing we’ve got! You’re telling me I’m just supposed to abandon mine for a couple of A’s that’ll never go towards anything?”
“Who said yer abandoning anyone? Far as I can tell, you’ve never gone a day in yer life without being everything for yer brothers yer damn father could possibly ask of you. Since he dropped you three here, I don’t think I’ve seen little Adam leave yer side longer than it takes you to go to the bathroom!”
“Pft. That’s not true.”
“Sure it ain’t.” The man let out a weary sigh. “I don’t get it, Dean. It may be different on the road, but you don’t have to be Sam and Adam’s daddy here. You can focus on school, not training or research. You can just be what yer supposed to be: a damn kid. Please, son. Just let me and Ellen do the heavy lifting, for once in yer forsaken life.”
Jeremy got out of his car quietly, not wanting to disrupt the argument. As he did, he could clearly see Bobby Singer, town drunk and salvage yard owner in his blue ball cap facing down a sixteen year-old Dean, who bounced a five-year old boy with fluffy blonde hair on his hip as he started to get fussy. Dean shushed him and made soothing strokes down his hair, urging the young child to quieten.
Dean let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I know you just want what’s best for me, and Sammy and Adam. But you remember what happened last time I let training fall to the wayside while I was here,” What happened last time? Jeremy thought as he eavesdropped, “I’m not gonna give Dad any more reasons to stop us from coming here, it’s the most stable home Sammy and Adam have ever known. I won’t do that to them, and if that means I don’t make Valedictorian,” he mocked with no small amount of derision, “then fine.”
“Boy, you know I don’t mean that when I say focus on yer grades. While I know yer whip smart, I’m not puttin’ that kinda pressure on you.”
Dean ducked his head, and even from his spot across the lot, Jeremy could just make out the flush on Dean’s freckled cheeks at the compliment. “I know, Bobby.”
“Then you know it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you just scaled it back a little. Focused on you, not yer daddy, not yer brothers. You.”
His eyes still trained on his feet, Dean mumbled something Jeremy couldn’t make out as the little boy reached up to pat his big brother’s cheek. Dean’s head jerked out of the way, but he still gave the kid in his arms a warm smile, his nose crinkling in amusement.
Finally, confident that what should have been a private conversation was over, Jeremy cleared his throat and walked towards the gruff scrapyard owner, extending his hand. “Hi, Mr. Singer? I’m Jeremy Alton, we spoke on the phone?” He couldn’t help his inflection turning upwards, making his statement into a question. Even at twenty-seven, he still wasn’t used to interacting with older adults as equals.
Bobby took his hand. “Yeah, that the car giving you trouble?” he asked, pointing towards the Camaro.
“Yes, sir.”
“Alrighty then.” The man turned to Dean and gestured for him to hand the kid over, who whined at first over being removed from his brother’s solid hold. Jeremy didn’t understand the reason for the hand-off, until he said, “This here’s Dean, he’s been fixin’ cars since he was tall enough to see over the hood. He’ll get you right sorted.” Bobby adjusted the kid in his hold, swinging him onto his hip like Dean had had him. He turned and as he headed back to the old Victorian Jeremy could see beyond the sea of broken down cars and scrap metal, he cooed at the boy, “Let’s go fix you some lunch, eh boy? Bet yer sick of yer idjit brother’s peanut butter and banana sandwiches, aren’t ya?”
Dean rolled his eyes, but turned to Jeremy and flashed a wide, cocky smile. “Howdy, Mr. Alton. What seems to be the issue?”
Jeremy narrowed his eyes, not quite sure exactly how far he should stretch his belief of Bobby’s assessment of Dean’s skills. “Uh, my car’s been making this rattling noise, even though it hasn’t affected the way the car runs, far as I can tell. The noise is pretty noticeable though, but I don’t know a thing about cars, or what it could be.”
The kid shrugged and stuck his hands in his front pockets, the picture of calm and relaxation. “Well, man, if you could fix it yourself, you wouldn’t have come here. Lemme take a look for you.”
As Jeremy popped the hood for Dean’s inspection, the teen asked, “You get any work done on her recently? An oil change, wiper replacement, anything?”
“Not in the last few months. Last time I brought it in was about five months ago. The noise only started last month.”
“Ah,” Dean said, head and torso completely disappeared under the hood, the teen’s denim-clad bottom-half all that was left sticking out over the Camaro’s front bumper. “Alright, I can’t see anything that’s outright fallen off. It’s likely either a problem with your exhaust, or maybe your brakes. I’ll jack her up and take a look underneath. When do you need her back by?”
“Oh, uh. I’d like to have her,” - he’d never referred to a car as a her in his life - “back as soon as possible. When can you have her finished?”
The kid shrugged again, pulling a rag out from his back pocket to wipe off any grease, straightening out from under the hood. “Tomorrow. It’s a weekend, and I’m not busy.”
Jeremy let out a relieved laugh, amused by the boy’s straightforward nonchalance. “Great, I’ll be back around five? How’s that sound?”
Dean grinned. “Perfect. You need a loaner getting home, or a phone to call someone to pick you up?”
“Phone, please. My fiancée can come pick me up.” God, he loved saying fiancée. He and Erin had been dating so long, since their junior year of college, it felt amazing knowing he was only one step away from her becoming his wife.
“Sure thing. Follow me.”
Jeremy let himself be led around the back of the house, entering into the kitchen where chaos had clearly erupted long ago and had simply never been ordered again. Dean offered the white wall-phone by the fridge to Jeremy, but the second it was out of his hand, the appendage was being grabbed by a ten year-old girl, who Jeremy realized had been the toddler in the boy’s arms the last time he’d seen him. Holy crap, he was getting old.
“Deeeeeean, you gotta come see what Sam and I found! You gotta come, you gotta come see!”
The teen chuckled at little Jo’s insistent tugging and let himself be dragged away towards the staircase through a sitting room that looked even more like a bomb had exploded in it than the kitchen. Before he was out of sight, he swiveled and threw a quick salute at Jeremy, calling back, “Tomorrow at five, Mr. Alton!”
Jeremy had only just gotten out, “Thanks, kid,” when Dean disappeared from view.
iv.
The fourth time Jeremy saw Dean, he was beginning to expect to see a child perched square on his hip, and was fairly shocked to only see the little girl next to him clutching his hand, instead.
He relaxed when he saw the little girl Dean stood next to was Laurie. The little tyke had wandered off somewhere near the frozen aisle and had thankfully managed to find someone kind to help her wait at customer service.
“Oh, Mr. Alton! When Laurie here said her last name was Alton, I guess I should’ve assumed,” the young man called with a friendly grin, his voice much deeper than Jeremy remembered from their last run-in a few years back.
After fixing his car, Dean handed over his remaining customer-service duties to Bobby, the man telling Jeremy when he asked that “the rugrats wanted to go to the library, so Dean took ‘em. If he’s lucky, they’ll let him drag ‘em back before the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow.” In the five years since he’d last seen the boy, Dean had shot up a few fair more inches, now standing taller than Jeremy’s 5’10”. His wardrobe and appearance were still just as they’ve always been, the man seemingly incapable of expanding beyond jeans and flannels. Jeremy felt oddly comforted by the continuity, and trusted Laurie had been safe with Dean all the more when it seemed he was still the same boy he’d seen humming a lullaby to his baby brother in the middle of a busy grocery store.
Laurie released Dean’s hand and ran towards her father, throwing her face against his legs and wrapping her arms around them so tight Jeremy thought for a wobbly second he might tip over. Dean laughed and crouched down closer to Laurie’s level, saying sweetly, “See, Lou, I told you your dad would come and get ya. You had nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”
His daughter looked up at her dad with glossy eyes, then squeezed tight one more time before throwing herself into Dean’s arms, muffling her thank you’s and stray emotional tears in the crook of his neck. He hugged her back, giving her a few comforting pats before straightening up and nudging her back towards her dad’s arms where they waited, outstretched, to pick her up. Once she was secured to her father’s side, it was Jeremy’s turn to thank the man for helping his daughter. Dean just scoffed and waved it away, telling Jeremy it was no problem. He caught the man off guard when he asked, “So, the Camaro still run? Or you upgraded to a minivan for the little one yet?”
Jeremy laughed, glad for Dean seeking to calm the whirlwind emotions surrounding the reunited Altons. “Yeah, although she’s seen better days. My wife thought it’d be time for a van, but until we’ve got two little monsters,” he tickled Laurie’s side, earning himself a giggle from his daughter, “I’m not sure I see the rush.”
Dean nodded with solemn understanding, despite barely being of legal drinking age and definitely in no need of a van himself. But he returned Jeremy’s skeptical glance with a smirk, and told him, “My dad did the same thing when he and my mom got together and started talking about a family. He told me once she’d asked him to get a VW bus - I guess for the bucket loads of kids they planned to have, - but instead he showed up at her door in a shiny black ‘67 Chevy Impala. She may not have the space for a whole football team, but even thirty years later, she’s still my pride and joy.”
The man got a glint in his eye as he talked about he beloved car, even pointing her out to Jeremy through the store’s front windows. He couldn’t see her, Dean said she was near the back of the parking lot so as to “prevent the hooligans of South Dakota from dinging up my baby,” so Jeremy took his word on her majesty and elegance. They chatted for a few minutes, Jeremy sharing with the young man the imminent arrival of his and Erin’s second baby, and Dean sharing with Jeremy his beaming pride over his brother’s acceptance to Stanford for university.
“He thinks I don’t know about it, but what he doesn’t know is that I know everything about that kid.”
“Maybe he’s just hoping to surprise you with it. I mean, that’s really amazing news.”
Dean scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck, his smile dimming slightly. “Teenagers. They just care so much about being secretive, man.” His forced smile betrayed some of the bitterness in his voice. But he tried to reclaim the lightness of before with, “You’re lucky you’ve got a little one. I’m sure Laurie knows better than to ever lie to her dad, ain’t that right, Lou?”
Laurie giggled at Dean’s faux-serious tone and nodded, whether that meant she was in on the joke or not remained to be seen.
Jeremy glanced at his watch and noticed he was late to bring home groceries, having told Erin he’d be home by noon. He offered a hand to Dean, which the young man took. “Well, let me thank you again, Dean.”
“Really, it was no-”
“To me, it was,” he cut him off. “I was completely panicking, trying to find her, and I can’t even imagine how scared Laurie was. So thank you for staying with her, truly.”
Jeremy could tell the earnestness was coming off him in waves, because he eventually watched the casual rebuke melt from Dean’s expression to be replaced with an understanding smile and nod. “Anytime, man.”
He nodded back. “Laurie, say thank you to Mr. Dean one last time, then we better be going.”
His daughter perked up, giving Dean a boisterous “Thank you, Mr. Dean!” before settling her head on her dad’s shoulder and bringing her thumb up to her mouth to suck on. After a cheerful goodbye, Dean sending Jeremy a wave and a “See you around, Mr. Alton! Bye, Laurie!” Jeremy turned to his daughter, still in his arms, before the two returned to their shopping. As he’d seen done over a decade ago by a boy far more versed in childcare than even he, a father, could claim to be, he gently grasped his daughter’s wrist and lowered her hand from her mouth, letting it rest on his other shoulder.
“What’d I tell you about the thumb-sucking, bug? We gotta be careful so your teeth don’t get all crooked and snaggly, ain’t that right honey-bun?”
Laurie looked up at her dad with big, brown eyes, her father’s words instantly being taken as gospel. “Cowse, Daddy. Won’ suck my thumb anymowe, pwomise.”
Jeremy smiled at his daughter, his little bug that he hoped would always be so easily persuaded, but knew that would never be the case. “Good girl. Now, time to get groceries before your mama thinks we’ve gone missing.”
v.
The fifth time Jeremy saw Dean, it was back to business as usual.
Only two years had passed since the supermarket-scare, and it was his turn to pick Laurie up from first grade as Erin took their new baby, Noah, in for a checkup. When he pulled up in the parking lot, he saw a number of parents milling about outside the small primary school’s kindergarten pen. Talking to a group of young moms with a kindergartener with brown, spiky hair on his hip, was Dean. Jeremy got out of their new car to greet him, and Dean noticed him walking over.
“Hey, Mr. Alton! You here to pick up Laurie?”
Jeremy shot him a tired smile. “That I am. Wife’s on baby duty, so I’m on pick-up-and-fielding-the-endless-requests-for-ice-cream duty. I swear, that girl of mine’s got a one-track mind. I don’t know where she gets it from,” he jokes.
Dean laughed, inadvertently jostling the kid on his him, who only giggled along with him.
“Who’s this?” Jeremy asked, waving at the kid, who shyly hid his face against Dean’s collarbone. “He yours?”
The young man bounced his little charge, trying to catch his eye while responding, “This is Ben, and I suppose he’s as mine as he wants to be. He’s my girlfriend’s kid, she just asked me to pick him up for her while she runs some errands.”
Some of the young mothers who had been chatting with Dean and had stayed put now tittered with praise, commending Dean’s desire to bond with his girlfriend’s kid rather than shirking responsibility. Dean ignored it and continued, “And, you know, I’m happy to do it. This little guy’s always a huge ball of energy comin’ outta class, talking a mile a minute. It makes playtime a blast, eh kiddo?”
Ben nodded at Dean’s prompting with all the energy that’d been promised, his shyness already forgotten. He slapped Dean’s hand when it was offered for a high-five, and laughed as Dean pretended to shake off the pain Ben’s extra-strong high-five caused him.
Jeremy watched as Dean and Ben interacted, the kid drawing a silliness out of Dean he doubted the man got to express anywhere else. Knowing he still had a few minutes before Laurie’s class was dismissed, the kindergarteners being released ten minutes earlier than the rest of the school to get some of the parents out of the pick-up/drop-off zone, he wracked his mind for another small-talk topic.
“Your brother, how’s he doing at- Stanford, was that it?”
Dean beamed a brilliant smile and began rambling about his genius little brother’s scholarship and dreams of becoming a lawyer. He admitted, “I don’t get to hear from him as much as I’d like- helicopter brother, y’know?” he gestured at himself. “But it’s always been my job to protect him, and I guess I can’t really do that from here. But hey, he’s happy, he’s healthy - what, with all that hippie garbage he probably eats - and I know he can keep himself safe,” He shrugged, “I don’t have to like it to accept it, but the kid’s all grown up now. He’s working hard to earn himself a slice of the apple pie life, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Jeremy clapped the young man on the shoulder just as his daughter’s class was let out. Laurie came barreling over to him, jumping into his arms from where they waited for her and giggling and shouting as he twirled her around.
“There’s my little girl! How was school, bug?”
“Awesome, Daddy! We learned about all the different kinds of bears- did you know, did you know that there are bears that live in the Artic,”
“Arctic, bug.”
“And they’re all white to- to-,”
“Blend in?”
“-Blend in with the snow! Did you know that, Daddy?”
“I didn’t know that! What are those bears called?”
“Polar bears!”
Jeremy heard Dean and a few of the other parents around them chuckle at Laurie’s exuberance, and he looked over to see Ben staring at Laurie with big eyes, eagerly taking in every word with awe. He turned to his daughter, “Hey bug, do you remember Mr. Dean? You met him last year. Remember, he helped you when you got lost.”
Laurie whipped her head around to look at Dean, who waved at the little girl, bouncing Ben and murmuring to get him to wave, too. She grinned and all but shouted in Jeremy’s ear, “Hi, Mr. Dean!”
“Hiya, Laurie. You gonna get your dad to help make something for the bake sale coming up?”
She wrinkled her cute nose playfully. “Daddy’s the worstest baker. The last time he tried to make cookies, they came out all burnt. Mommy says he’s not allowed in the kitchen anymore.”
The parents laughed and Jeremy flushed with embarrassment, though he was certain he was far from the only husband banned from the kitchen by his wife. To prove it, he could tell more than a few of the moms’ laughs were in understanding, and Francine from the PTA, whose son was in Laurie’s class, butted in with, “Oh, bless Erin. At least you tried, Jer. My husband wouldn’t know the difference between a spatula and a colander if you hit him over the head with it,” She turned to Dean, “Lisa’s so lucky to have a man who knows his way around the kitchen. That last pie you brought in Dean, I had dreams about!”
Dean let out a belly laugh, Ben latching his hands around the man’s neck at the sudden movement. “Fran, you flatter me. There’s no need to butter me up, I already signed up for the bake sale.”
Francine put her hands up in mock surrender just as Ben started to get squirmy in Dean’s arms. He adjusted his hold on the kid and turned back to Jeremy. “I better get the little one home before he makes a break for it. I’ll be seeing you around, Mr. Alton?”
Jeremy smiled, Laurie in his arms starting to get just as wriggly. “Please, call me Jeremy. I’ll see you around, Dean.”
Dean nodded and bid the other parents goodbye before heading with Ben to the man’s behemoth of a car, way at the back of the parking lot. Making his own goodbyes, Jeremy loaded Laurie into her car seat in their new minivan. He listened to his daughter’s rambling with half an ear as his mind drifted towards the green-eyed man he’d first seen nearly two decades ago, and just how much had changed.
Jeremy had gone from a pimply teenager only looking to hold a job for the few months needed to afford a video game console, to a business manager at a large industrial supplies company with two kids and a wife he loved more than anything. A lot had changed for Jeremy in 18 years, and while he would admit to knowing little about his green-eyed acquaintance, he liked to think of Dean as a constant. It seemed like the man had a role, a reason he was put on this earth, a purpose to fulfill. He thought of Sam, of Jo, of Adam, and Laurie, and now Ben. He thought each and every one of them were lucky to have a brother, a guardian, and a parent in Dean, a man to whom care and protectiveness came so naturally. A man who, without him realizing it, Jeremy had made one of his role-models, a template for fatherhood he clung to when the weight of parenting became so overwhelming he felt lost at sea.
He looked in the rearview mirror at his daughter. He promised her, and he promised himself, that he would always be kind, and gentle, and supportive. He would dedicate the rest of his life to the little girl behind him, and the little boy waiting at home, and the woman who brought them into this world.
So when Laurie asked, “Daddy, can we go get ice cream?” Jeremy’s answer was yes.
+1
When Jeremy saw the cars lined up the street, he didn’t think much of his neighbor’s summer barbeque.
When he saw a shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala roll into Sheriff Mills’ driveway, he pulled a 12-pack out of the fridge and decided to head over.
As he walked into the backyard, he was greeted by the good Sheriff herself. “Jer! You come to partake in the spoils? Where are the kids? Where’s Erin?”
“Ah, Jody, you know Laurie already moved out, and Erin’s with Noah picking out a new couch for his campus apartment.”
“Ooooh, so you’ve got the house to yourself for a bit?”
Jeremy laughed, setting the beer down on one of the foldout tables extended along the fence, buffet-style. “Only for another hour or two.”
“Well, come in! I’m not sure how many people here you know, besides me and the girls, but I’ll take you around, introduce you to everyone.”
“Sounds good.”
The first group of people Jody brought him over to were clustered by the buffet tables, occasionally reaching out to grab a carrot stick or pepper slice from the nearest veggie tray. Or at least, one guy seemed to. Jeremy recognized Bobby Singer standing with a man and two women he’d never met. The man was a little over average height, well built with tan skin and wavy brown hair. He looked a little like a fitness coach or a model, though Jeremy never went beyond bland recognition of that fact. The woman standing to the left of Bobby was on the shorter side, with a long blond ponytail and a bubbly laugh Jeremy heard before he’d even arrived. The woman on Bobby’s right had her chocolate brown hair in a harsh bun at the base of her neck, and wore a leather jacket the weather was far too hot to permit, with aviators. She looked something like a modern Amelia Earhart.
The group stalled their conversation on the merits of a Ducati versus a Harley-Davidson - which Jeremy would not have expected but the bubbly blond woman seemed to be dominating - when Jeremy and Jody walked up.
“Jer, this is Bobby Singer, Matt Linden, Donna Hanscum, and Dorothy Baum. Everyone, this is my neighbor, Jeremy Alton. He’s here for some chow.”
Everyone hustled to introduce themselves, Bobby holding back all but a short nod of acknowledgement, which Jeremy returned. He learned that Bobby and Jody had been friends for years, but had largely been brought together by Sam and Dean, who Jody assumed he didn’t know and assured him he would meet later. Matt was the boyfriend of Lisa, and they’d been together going on eight years. Donna introduced herself as Jody’s “best friend and better half,” shooting Jeremy a wink that made him chuckle at the implication. Dorothy came into the fold as a woman named Charlie’s girlfriend, though he had no idea who Charlie was, he assumed she was yet another face to meet later on the carousel of introductions.
Jody then steered him over to a group of mostly young adults who formed a circling crowd around two people having an arm-wrestling match at the picnic table. Of the two kids at the table, it was not difficult to determine who was set to win the match. A young 20-something girl with blond hair in waves falling down her back and fierce blue eyes stared down her competition, a similarly aged boy with spiky brown hair, whose face was slowly turning red from effort. Jeremy flashed back about 17 years to a pick-up/drop-off zone where he watched a little boy laugh with and be held by a man with green eyes. He realized he was watching a grown up Ben Braeden have his ass handed to him by Jody’s adopted daughter, Claire. Jody’s other girls, Patience, Alex, and Kaia all whooped and cheered as Claire smacked the boy’s hand down to the table, and the two men behind Ben groaned at his defeat. Claire pointed questioningly at the man with dirty-blond hair and hazel eyes, clearly vying for a new opponent, but he only backed away, pushing the taller man with long, magazine-quality hair towards the table instead.
Before he and Claire could commence their arm-wrestling match, Jody cleared her throat for everyone’s attention. Seven pairs of eyes fell on the newcomers. “Girls, you all know Jeremy from next door,” The girls chorused their hello’s. “Sam, Adam, Ben - this is Jeremy Alton, our next-door neighbor.” She pointed at each of the men in turn, first the tall brunette, then the shorter blond, and finally the boy still massaging his hand from it’s time in Claire’s death-grip.
Sam put his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you, Jeremy. You staying for the barbeque?”
Jeremy swallowed back the sudden feeling of worlds colliding, it just clicking in his mind that this towering man was once the tiny infant being lulled to sleep with Hey Jude in his brother’s arms in the middle of a Safeway. He took Sam’s hand. “Yeah, my wife and son are out and left me to fend for myself for dinner. Why pass up the chance for free barbeque?”
Sam laughed. “Well, you’re in luck. My brother makes the best burgers in all the Midwest.”
He grinned back. “Perfect.”
Next was Adam to offer his hand for Jeremy to shake. When Jeremy took it, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “If Claire challenges you to an arm-wrestle, do not take her up on it.”
Jeremy let out a big chuckle in surprise, winking at Adam to let him know his advice was being heeded. He tried not to think about how he’d once only known this man, too, as a toddler in the arms of his older brother. Now, as they made small-talk, he learned Adam was in medical school after a number of years traveling the country with his brothers. God, Jeremy should not have come to this barbeque, it was like a convention of people designed to make him feel old.
Eventually, Ben spoke up. “Hi, Mr. Alton. Um, how’s Laurie doing?” the boy asked, a blush beginning to rise on his cheeks. The girls all started giggling and lightly shoving him, and Ben told them all to stuff it. Jeremy laughed good-naturedly along with them, realizing this boy’s crush on his daughter was in all likelihood not a new development.
“She’s doing very well at school, Ben. She’s up at Northwestern, for business and communications.”
Ben’s blush intensified, and all he managed to contribute after was a soft, “Cool.”
“Alrighty, more places to be, more people to meet!” Jody led him away from the picnic table and over to a group of four women who lounged on lawn chairs set up on the grass across from the deck. There was a woman with a curly blond bob, one with shoulder-length light brown hair, another with long, wavy brown hair, and a woman he quickly recognized from years of school concerts and functions as Lisa Braeden. Her smile was near blinding as she laughed at a joke made by the blonde woman. As he watched, Jeremy noticed that the women were all signing as they spoke, some more clumsily than others, especially since they all held huge margaritas. The woman with the longer brown hair flicked her eyes between their hands and their lips as she grinned and sipped her drink along with them.
Lisa looked up as Jeremy and Jody made their way over and went in for a hug in greeting. “Jeremy! Hi! When’d you pop in?”
“Just a few minutes ago. Jody’s taking me around, making introductions,” he responded from over her shoulder.
“Well, welcome! This here is Mary, Ellen, and Eileen. Mary is Sam and Dean’s mother - I'm assuming you've met the boys already - Ellen is Bobby’s wife, and Eileen is Sam's better half. Ladies, this is Jeremy Alton.”
“My neighbor,” Jody added.
Jeremy looked at Mary in confusion after she, Ellen, and Eileen greeted him. He couldn’t believe the woman in front of him had two children in their late thirties when she looked not a day over thirty herself. Not to mention all he knew about Dean’s - and thus Sam and Adam’s - childhood, and he had been fairly certain their mother hadn’t been in the picture for a long time. Well, whatever the story there was, it wasn’t his business, no matter how intrigued he was by the clear use of witchcraft or sorcery keeping Mary so young.
The ladies picked up on his gawking and laughed, the experience evidently not a surprise to them.
“What, no comment about how you thought I was their sister?” Mary joked.
“No, no. Although, I don’t think my wife would forgive me if I didn’t ask what brand of moisturizer you use.” She just laughed, no answer forthcoming.
He turned to Lisa, the question on his mind since meeting Matt falling off his tongue. “Lisa, I didn’t know you and Dean were no longer together.”
The woman sighed, but her happy demeanor seemed undiminished. “Yeah, it was years ago. There was a lot going on in their family at the time, and Dean has some experience with absent fathers. He didn’t want that for Ben, and when it was clear he couldn’t be there for us like he wanted to be, or like we needed him to be, we decided it was best to let go. Ben still adores him, I mean he was the closest he had to a father for a long time, and he’s still one of my closest friends. But we’ve got Matt now, and Dean has Cas.” Her tone became conspiratorial as her eyes took on a glint of mirth. He wasn’t in on the joke, but he was impressed by the maturity of the ex-couple, who were clearly comfortable enough in their friendship to poke fun at each other’s relationships.
“Speaking of, time to meet the last of the Winchesters.” Jody corralled him away from the ladies, Eileen calling out behind him, “Ask Jo to make you a margarita, they’re killer!” followed by another round of laughter.
He was led onto the deck where, despite the warm summer weather, a man in a full business suit and trench coat with messy black hair and striking blue eyes watched from the side as two women, a perky blonde and a bouncing redhead crowded around the barbeque, harassing and critiquing the man flipping burgers. Jeremy realized with a start that the man in the green flannel and worn jeans, with the spiky brown hair and child on his hip was Dean. Dean Winchester, apparently, it occurring to Jeremy he hadn’t known the man’s last name before now.
As the blonde took to literally poking Dean to elicit a reaction, Jeremy heard the man taunt her with, "Joanna-Beth, I swear on my life, if you keep poking me the only condiment you're getting on your burger will be spit."
Jo (not a toddler, nor a ten year old, now a thirty-year old woman) merely laughed. "Considering the number of times you've cheated death, Winchester, I'm not sure that counts for much."
Dean let out a long-suffering sigh as he flipped the burgers, bouncing the young boy with floppy blond hair on his hip, making him giggle. Jeremy looked over at the trenchcoated man and saw him regarding the scene with a soft smile on his face, and he waited for Jody to make the introductions.
"Alright, Jer, last of the introductions. Guys-" Everyone on the deck looked over at the newcomers, the blue-eyed man rising from his seat to greet them. "This is my neighbor, Jeremy Alton, here to partake in some of the festivities. Jer, this is Jo Harvelle, Ellen's daughter," she pointed to the blonde who smirked at Dean before giving Jeremy a wide smile in hello, "Charlie Bradbury," the redhead waved from her spot beside the grill, "and Dean, Castiel, and Jack," Jody finished, beaming at the kid in Dean's arms.
Jeremy offered his hand to Castiel, who cocked his head slightly in confusion before a light switched on behind his eyes and he took the outstretched hand, returning the greeting. "It is nice to meet you, Jeremy."
"It's nice to meet you as well. Lisa mentioned you're Dean's partner?"
Castiel's face lit up with a gummy smile at the reminder, directing it towards his husband as he came over, Jo now placed on grill-duty under Charlie's watchful eye. "Yes, I am." Jeremy remembered the time when he too would go goo-goo eyed over the novelty of his and Erin's nuptials, and he figured the two must be newlyweds.
Dean offered his hand next, his right still supporting Jack against his side. "Jeremy! Long time, no see, man. How've you been, how're the kids?"
He shook it, responding, "Everyone's doing well, no complaints. The kids are off to college now, so I suppose Erin and I are gonna be empty-nesters soon."
The green-eyed man chuckled, but Jeremy didn't miss the way he clutched Jack a little closer to him. "Man, it's like it was yesterday Laurie was asking you if you knew what polar bears were, and now she's in college," Dean face morphed into a faraway expression as he looked out over the guests in the backyard. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"
Jeremy offered a smile of understanding. "That they do."
A crash from the picnic table startled Dean and Jeremy out of their moment of melancholy, Dean's head snapping up to assess the damage. When he saw it was only Claire wrestling Adam to the ground in a chokehold, he barked, "Claire! What have I told you about picking on people your own size?"
"That I can fight anyone bigger than me as long as I know I can win?"
Dean rolled his eyes and continued as if Claire hadn't spoken. "When I say size, it applies to ability, too. You know how out of practice he is, with all the textbooks he's got his nose stuck in. You wanna fight someone, fight Sam. Or better yet, try Eileen. She actually stands a chance of taking you down a notch, Biker Barbie."
Claire released Adam, who spluttered both for air and from offense. As he marched away to grab a drink, Claire swung herself over the deck's railing and landed next to Castiel. "Eileen's had a few of Jo's margarita's already, it'd only be a fair fight if I got on her level, which is nothing a few more White Claws couldn't help."
Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you even old enough to drink?"
"I'm twenty-two."
He grunted. "Ask Jody."
Jeremy chuckled as both Jody and Claire rolled their eyes, the sheriff waving her girl over to the coolers. "Want anything, old man?"
"Just for you to stop driving stakes through my heart."
"Sure thing, Grandpa." She grinned at the round of verbal sparring won, clomping off the deck in her thick combat boots.
With Claire's departure, Dean handed Jack over to Castiel and returned to the grill to wrest control back from Jo and Charlie. When the ladies came over to make their own introductions, Jeremy asked of Jo, "I've been hearing some talk about your margaritas. Think I could handle one?" Her answering smirk was not comforting, but he didn't back down all the same, and soon he was truly one with the backyard barbeque spirit.
Jeremy laughed and chatted with Winchesters, Harvelles, Braedens, Singers, and Mills' as the sun made its slow descent across the sky. He wolfed down a cheeseburger, courtesy of Dean, and sipped his margarita, courtesy of Jo. And he watched as his longstanding acquaintance busied himself with taking care of his family. He watched as Dean joined a game of soccer with Ben and the girls; as he wordlessly passed his husband a second burger before a request for one had even been made; as he expertly fought off Claire's drunken attempts to wrestle, swaddling the girl with a blanket from inside to trap her arms and dropping her on a lawn chair where she instantly fell asleep. He laughed as Dean laid out lettuce and sliced tomatoes for Sam, despite loudly proclaiming him a 'hippie' and the condiments 'rabbit food'. He looked on as Dean ruffled Adam's hair, and reluctantly accepted a margarita from Jo despite eyeing the drink like it was poison, but earning a proud grin from her, regardless. And he watched as Dean chased Jack around the backyard, who couldn't get far on his stubby legs before his dad was swinging him up into the air, making Jack shriek with laughter, and blowing raspberries on his tummy.
He had known it before, but Jeremy felt he was now seeing it in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. Dean Winchester had a calling. Here, among family, among his brothers and sisters and sons and daughters, Dean was home.
Before the sun had fully set, Jeremy was chatting with Mary as Jack let out a big yawn from his spot in his grandmother's lap on a lawn chair. He drowsily rubbed his eyes and put his arms out, calling, "Daaaddddyyyyyy!"
Hardly a moment passed before the boy was lifted into Dean's arms, Jack resting his tired head on his dad's shoulder.
"I know, buddy, I know. It's bedtime," Dean murmured. "Let's go find your Papa so he can read you a bedtime story."
Jack tried to perk up at the mention of a story, but was too tired and only ended up snuggling closer. "Wan' read trucks, Daddy."
"Trucks it is then, kiddo."
Castiel appeared over Dean's shoulder and the green-eyed man turned to let his husband take Jack into his own arms. After promising to be upstairs in a minute, Dean turned to Jeremy, putting out his hand to shake in farewell. Still speaking softly, he said, "Nice seeing you, Jer. You and Erin take care, alright? Don't let the empty nest get you too down."
Jeremy shook his hand and gave him a small smile. "Same to you, Dean."
Dean clapped him once on the shoulder. "See you around, man," and he smiled back, before heading inside to wish his son goodnight.
When Jeremy returned home after the barbeque to find his wife and son returned from their excursion, he kissed Erin goodnight before heading upstairs to check on Noah. He knocked on his son's bedroom door, poking his head in after a few seconds to see his son in bed, his eyes on his laptop screen.
"Happy with the couch, bug?"
Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname but answered all the same. "Yeah, completely. Mom and I had a whole Goldilocks moment over it, like one couch was too hard, one was too soft. This one was just right."
Jeremy smiled. "That's good to hear. You heading to bed soon?"
His son shrugged, eyes returning to his computer. "Sure, Dad." Jeremy knew that meant probably not.
"Okay, goodnight then, kiddo. I love you."
Jeremy wasn't always confident in his skills as a parent. If he was being honest, he didn't know if he ever would be. It was difficult, and it was thankless, and sometimes his kids made him want to tear his hair out. Sometimes he thought he resented Dean Winchester for becoming this epitome of fatherhood in his head Jeremy knew he couldn't reach.
But sometimes he'd be thankful. Sometimes, Jeremy would take in the small moments of peace and let them wash over him and fill him with love and pride. He had learned to treat the small moments as precious, because a moment that may seem inconsequential to someone might be life-changing to someone else.
He didn't need the thanks. He didn't need validation or gratitude. He just needed his family.
"Love you too. Goodnight, Dad."
That was enough for him.