dean doesn’t tell mary. i mean there’s nothing TO say, is there? not like dean’s gonna bring a guy home, atleast, not anyone who’s not cas. and cas, well— that’s a whole jar of feelings dean doesn’t wanna shake. doesn’t think she’ll get it anyway. if she does though, understand, that is, she won’t care a lot. probably. hopefully. it doesn’t feel like she cares a lot about dean, either way. so. he doesn’t tell mary.
he’s just sitting there, beer condensation wetting his palm. it’s guilt, and anger— always fucking anger, and perhaps gratefulness, and regretfully, more love. dean didn’t think it was possible. but cas is a dumb sonuvabitch, and dean is— well, doesn’t matter. what cas did was stupid, and dean doesn’t see any way they’re getting out of this Cosmic Consequence unscathed. he sighs when he hears footsteps approaching. mary doesn’t ask if she should join him, just gets a beer for herself, and sits facing him.
it’s too quiet for two people for a few minutes, then dean says, not making eye contact, “thanks.”
“mm,” she replies, and dean can feel her gearing up to say something heavy. instead, her voice is small when she says, “i wanted to talk to you about something.”
it’s heavy alright. it’s the darkest hour of the night and he is so tired, and he can tell it’s something that’s not gonna be easy to ‘talk’ about. “sure,” he says nevertheless. not that there was another answer. dean does what is asked of him to.
“and you,” she adds. “you an’ cas.”
dean hasn’t looked her in the eye since they came back. not after billie. it’s like he can’t disappoint her enough. “what about cas?”
“are you seeing someone?” it’s abrupt. alrighty.
“i— i knew a,” she’s hesitating, he can tell, fingers circling the rim of the bottle she’s holding. “i had a friend who—”
“it’s not like that, mom. cas isn’t— he’s not.”
it’s mary who doesn’t look up at him when she says, “hear me out.”
dean stays quiet, so she continues, fingers now tracing the wet circle on the table. “i had a friend. before, before john. and before paul. after bart.”
“don’t tell me about your boyfriends, mom. it’s gross.”
dean chuckles, and she looks up, then, smiling softly. she doesn’t look disappointed. or angry. she looks—
“well, my friend, uh. married a guy soon after we broke up.”
“mom,” he sighs, “cas ain’t li—”
mary rubs at her eyes, and softer, says, “don’t be. it’s. she married a guy and i never really—”
it takes him a moment, but when it clicks, it fucking clicks. he gasps theatrically, and mary curls further into herself. she looks—
dean sees what’s happening, knows it too well. fortunately, knows how to make it better too. “so. heh. who knew my mom was quite the player, huh?”
mary looks at him, calculating, and a thin smile appears on her face. “hardly.”
dean takes a sip of the beer, not good now that it’s not cold. waits a moment. lets it sink. then says, clearly, “but not cas and me, mom.”
“but it’s nothing, um. i know what john was like but it’s— it’s not a bad thing. it’s not wr-wrong.” it’s as more a question than it is a statement. mary looks—
“it’s not. it’s not wrong.” dean tells her; himself. it’s not. it’s not. it feels right is what it is. “it’s uh— called. bisexual. bisexuality. people who bat for both teams.”
“bisexual.” mary says. repeats. smiles.
a beat, then two. ten. twelve. twenty.
“i had friends too. before.” dean confesses. feels light, then heavy, but when mary looks at him without what he thought she’d feel, he feels light again. like air, really.
“not me an’ cas, though.”
there’s a sorry smile on his face, a smile that’s too open apparently, too visible, because whatever was on mary face changes to pity.
“oh, baby.” she takes both his hands in her now. all four palms are damp, but man does it feel warm to be enveloped in your mother’s palms. “you will be,” she says, so sure that dean’d believe her if he were four. he’s closer to forty now, so he simply laughs softly.
mary smiles at him. she looks—
she looks proud. “guess we’re not that different, huh?”
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
pixelskylines
vaporwave
titsay
izzy806
areudirty
