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Picture Perfect (2/?)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchester in their Wee or adult version. *sigh* That's a shame.
Wordcount: ~1900
Characters: Wee!Dean, John, Mary.
Summery: Wee!Dean came home from preschool early and wants to spend the afternoon with his parents at the park...
Comments: Are like cookies - the more the merrier!
Notes: Preseries. A series of oneshots about baby Dean.
Other Wee!Dean stories - 'There was life there, once', Picture Perfect part 1.
"Dean, no!" Mary cried sharply, pulling onto the toddler's shirt and yanking him back with more force than she had meant. The startled three year old blinked in shock, before his eyes watered, his expression a mix of insult, indignation and uncertainty. Mary sighed, kneeling next to her little boy.
"Oh, don't cry, baby. Come here." She said, reaching her hands out to her son. Dean hesitated and started to cry, but allowed his mother to hold him. "You know better, what you did was bad. Do you understand?" Mary asked. Dean sniffled.
"But I want ice cream!" he said, "You said ice cream!" he added accusingly, and Mary had to work hard to keep the smile off her face.
"I know, baby." She said. Dean turned his head back, pointed a little finger at the ice cream truck across the street.
"Ice cream." He said, then looked at his mother in that innocent, hopeful look.
"First I need to know you understand what you did was wrong. Do you understand, Dean?" Mary asked patiently. Dean looked at the ice cream truck, then back at his mother. "Dean, you never, ever, run to the street like that, do you understand? You never cross the street without an adult." Mary explained. Dean looked sheepish, and for a moment, all Mary wanted to do was squish him and hug him and hold him tight. She couldn’t believe her baby was already three years old. The little boy ducked his head, scuffing his shoe, not looking at his mother.
"Can you tell Mommy what's the right way to cross the street?" Mary asked. Dean nodded, long blonde hair hiding his eyes as he looked down again.
"Look both ways, never run, and hold your hand." He said in a small voice.
"That's right," Mary smiled, brushing the hair from Dean's face, "That's my boy." She picked him up in her hands and grunted. "Oh, you're getting heavy. Pretty soon I won't be able to hold you like this." She said, and Dean wrapped his arms around her neck. "Let's go get you that ice cream, okay?" Mary asked, and Dean nodded, his hair tickling his mother's face.
"And then we'll go see Daddy?" Dean asked.
"And then we'll go see Daddy." Mary promised, crossing the street and heading for the ice cream truck.
A small line stretched in front of the ice cream truck. Mary had to keep a very firm hold of Dean's hand to prevent the toddler from taking off and doing something more interesting, like running off with another bored kid, or finding a bug he wanted to take home. She picked Dean in her arms again once they got to the front of the line, so he could choose the flavor he wanted.
"Aw, what a pretty little boy." The ice cream lady cooed.
"I'm a big boy!" Dean frowned, correcting her. "My name's Dean." he said, sticking his thumb in this chest, face beaming. "And this is my Mommy. And we're going to see my Daddy. He used to be a soldier, like in the movies, but now he fixes cars, and we're gonna visit him today because preschool ended early because they're repainting our class," Dean took a deep breath and kept on; "I hope they paint it blue and green. Those are my favorite colors."
"Why don’t you tell the nice lady what kind of ice cream you want?" Mary suggested, taking advantage of the momentary pause in Dean's speech. Dean nodded enthusiastically.
"I want cookie dough, and vanilla, and chocolate chip, and raspberry, and…"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, tiger." Mary said, "He'll have the cookie dough and the chocolate chip, please." She said, switching Dean over to her hip to better access her purse and pay the vendor.
"Here you go," the ice cream lady said as she gave Dean his ice cream.
"Thank you," Dean said in a sing-song voice, waving at her, "bye!"
Mary put Dean down, telling him not to move as she counted her change and put her money away. She rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he stay put for one damn second? He was already talking to some kid, both happily licking their ice cream.
"Dean," Mary called out to him and he rushed towards her, all smiles and happiness. "Dean, I told you to stay here." Mary said. Dean blinked at her.
"But I am here." He said simply. The young mother opened her mouth to reply, but decided against it. There was simply no point in arguing about it. She sighed.
"You know you're not supposed to talk to strangers." She said instead. Dean shrugged.
"I didn’t." he said simply. "Kids don’t count."
"Dean, you're not supposed to talk to strangers, period. That kid is a stranger, and so was the vendor." Dean frowned.
"But he's just a kid, like me." He said, "And besides, she was not a stranger, she's the ice cream lady!" Dean insisted, daring his mother to argue with his little boy logic. Mary opened her mouth to say something, but seeing Dean, standing there with his hands on his hips, looking up to her as if daring her to say he'd done something wrong – it was just too adorable. She resisted a smile, wishing she had a camera with her.
"Still, you are not allowed to talk to strangers." Mary said patiently, taking hold of Dean's already sticky hand. She cursed inwardly, rummaging through her purse for a tissue. "What else do you do when you see a stranger and Mommy and Daddy aren't there?" Mary asked, kneeling in front of her boy and cleaning his hand and face. Dean licked his ice cream before answering.
"Uh… Not go anywhere with them?" he asked.
"That's right," Mary said, getting to her feet, "You never go with them. Not even if they say they'll give you candy. You just stay where you are, and call for help, understand?" she asked, and the little boy nodded, reaching his little hand for her to take in hers. Mary kissed the top of his head. "Good boy." She said lovingly. "Let's sit so you can eat your ice cream." She added, heading towards a nearby bench. Dean stopped.
"But I wanna go see Daddy." He said, big eyes looking at his mother, and Mary was already starting to dread his teenage years.
"We will," she said placidly, "after you finish your ice cream."
"I can eat and walk." Mary raised a brow.
"No, you can walk and get the ice cream all over your clothes." She said with a smile, "Come on, baby." She said, pulling him along towards the bench. "Give Mommy a bite of your ice cream?" she asked a moment later. Dean shook his head, hair flailing.
"No! Mine." He said, holding it closer to him and staining his shirt. Mary raised a brow. Her boy never had trouble to share before they put him in that preschool. She should check that place out again.
"Okay." She said lightly, "Okay Dean. Come on, sit here and let Mommy clean you up." But Dean stopped, not going over to sit where she had told him. He was looking at his shoes, looking as if someone had run over his puppy. "Dean?" Mary asked, a spike of unease in her gut. The little boy looked up at her, his eyes watering, and for a split second, unease turned to real worry. That is, until the toddler opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Mommy." He said, holding the ice cream out to her, "You can have my ice cream if you want." He added. Mary just wished John was there to see this.
"Aww, you are so sweet!" she exclaimed, "In fact, I think you're sweeter than the ice cream. I think I'm gonna take a little bite outta you!" she said, grabbing her baby and started tickling him. Dean shrieked, laughter rolling and contagious.
Mary let Dean finish his treat and then they both walked over to John's garage, Dean chattering her ears off, but the young mother loved every moment. She just loved seeing and hearing him experiencing things for the first time, getting excited over things she had long forgotten to get excited over.
They greeted Mike, John's partner, when they got to the garage. Mike picked Dean up, letting the little boy sit on his shoulders.
"John's in the back, working on a car." Mike said, letting Dean down. "Why don’t I go get him for you?" Mike suggested. Mary smiled at him.
"Thank you, Mike." She said, and Dean started bouncing in excitement. Mary couldn’t resist smiling this time. The little boy looked up at her.
"We're gonna see Daddy!" he said, making his mother laugh. She tried to stop him before he took off again, but with the extra sugar rush, she never really had a chance. She cried after him, but Dean ignored her, oblivious to the dangers of the garage, and ran in search for his Daddy. The fact that said Daddy was under a '79 Dodge didn’t seem to faze the boy, who quickly crawled under the car with his dad.
"What're you doing?" John nearly cracked his head, jumping at the sound of his little boy right next to him.
"Dean, you come right out of there, you hear me?" Mary called out to him. Dean crawled out, covered in dirt and oil. It didn’t bother him to jump into his father's arms, giving the older man a hug.
"What are you two doing here so early?" John asked, trying to clean his hands on a dirty rag, Dean clinging to his neck.
"Preschool ended early. They're painting my class. I hope they paint it blue and…"
"We thought we'd surprise you." Mary cut in.
"Are you surprised Daddy? Are you? Are you?" John laughed, kissing the top of Dean's head.
"I thought you could cut work early, come to the park with us." Mary said, and Dean nodded.
"Please Daddy?" he added in earnest. John laughed again.
"We're gonna have problems with him when he hits puberty." He told Mary. Dean frowned.
"I won't hit anyone Daddy. Hitting is bad. I'm a good boy." He said, "Now can we go to the park?" he asked, not really understanding why both his parents started laughing so hard. John and Mary both kissed their little boy.
"Yes, you are a good boy." John said.
"Then can we go to the park? Please Daddy? Please?"
"Yeah, tiger. We can go." John said, turning towards Mike. "Would you mind…?"
"Not a problem." Mike said quickly. "Just bring him back in one piece and fit to work." He added, winking at Mary. Mary feigned a sigh.
"I'll do my best." She said, and Dean started bouncing again, excited.
"We're going to the park!" he said gleefully. "See, I told Lucas nothing bad's gonna happen if we color on the wall and not in our coloring book!"
"Dean!"
"What?" the little boy asked innocently, "We tape our pictures to the wall anyway." He shrugged.
The End