#bec writes

It is three days after the weather starts to turn cold and grey in Paris that Alya pokes her head up into Marinette’s room and is almost smothered by a falling pile of wool that topples directly onto her head.

“Mhrbthghmph,” says Alya, which would have been a shout of “Marinette!”, if it wasn’t for the falling pile of wool.

“What the fuck?” she says, once all the wool has tumbled past her to thump its way down to the floor below.

“Alya?” comes the slightly muffled response.

She can hear Marinette’s voice, but she can’t see her. Then, after a moment, the pile of blankets heaped on Marinette’s bed shifts and then falls away to let Marinette’s head poke free.

“You okay under there, Mari?”

Marinette shifts slightly further upright with a grumble. “It’s cooold, Alya,” she whines.

Alya blinks in slight surprise. Even though it is a bit cold outside, Marinette’s room, being both at the top of the house and above the bakery ovens, is definitely warmer than the outside weather. Even so, Marinette has built herself a blanket nest and is curled up underneath it.

Alya shakes off her slight confusion. Odd as it is, Marinette does look incredibly cosy. She drops her bag on the floor, resigning herself to the fact that they probably won’t be going out like they’d planned. She shucks her coat onto the floor. “I’m coming in. Brace yourself, girl,” she says, before dropping on top of Marinette with a gentle fwump . Marinette’s giggle is slightly muffled, but Alya can hear it clearly, and smiles as she pulls out her phone, and gets comfortable.

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette is late again. She lives so close and yet according to Nino, she hasn’t gone a week since starting lycée without being late at least once.

Today, she is later than usual, and the weather outside is cold and grey and Mme Bustier is already rummaging on her desk for the roll. She glances worriedly at the door, and then relaxes slightly at the sound of hurrying footsteps approaching the classroom. Marinette rounds the edge of the doorway, and Alya grins at her, before she notices her outfit.

Marinette has slowly been adding more and more layers for the trip to school, and today, Alya can see at least three jumpers layered under her coat.

“Marinette, so nice of you to join us,” Mme. Bustier says.

Marinette grimaces as she takes her seat. “Sorry, Mme. Bustier.”

Alya leans over to Marinette as Mme. Bustier turns away. “Trouble getting out of bed?”

“My bed is warm and the outside is so so cooold, Alya,” she whines as she tugs her books out of her bag. She tugs the cuffs of her top jumper over her hands and huddles down into the scarf she hasn’t taken off yet.

Alya laughs, before they have to turn and start the lesson, but as Marinette’s attention is turned towards the font of the classroom, she frowns in concern. It is cold, but surely its not so cold as to warrant so many layers.

______________________________________________________________________

Ice is crystallizing on Marinettes window when she lands on her balcony with a shiver. Winter is finally making its presence known with a vengeance, and it’s making everything generally even more unpleasant. Worst of all are the late night akuma fights. She’s convinced that both her and Chat are going to turn into icicles by the western new year.

She drops her transformation reluctantly, and feels Tikki make a beeline to tuck herself under the scarf she’d pulled on in a hurry before leaving for the akuma fight earlier that afternoon. She fumbles the catch of the window lock slightly in the cold, before tumbling gratefully into her much warmer bedroom.

She shucks her outer layers off onto the floor and burrows quickly under her blankets before grabbing her phone off the shelf above her pillow. She flicks quickly to the messaging app that Tikki had managed to magic onto her phone, same as the one on her yoyo. Just like after every other akuma, Chat has left her a message.

CN: ❄❄❄❄😠

She grins.

LB: IDK how you got emojis on this thing, kitty, but i agree

CN: I bribed Plagg. He’ll do almost anything for extra stinky cheese 🧀 .

Marinette curls further under her doona with a grin. She rubs the cold tip of her nose before tapping out a reply.

LB: urgh, i’d like to make hawkmoth fight these akuma’s in the cold, see how he likes it >:(

CN: Take away his space heater!

LB: cut the power to his evil lair!!

CN: Cataclysfkdnflgm

Marinette stares at her phone, befuddled by his response.

LB: ?????

LB: chat??

She frowns in concern when he still doesn’t respond

LB: you ok chat?

CN: Sorry! Plagg surprised me and I dropped my phone!

LB: urgh, we should be going to sleep, i have class so early in the morning.

CN: Me too 😔 .

Marinette sighs, tapping out one final message as she huddles down into her blankets.

LB: goodnight, chat

CN: Goodnight, My Lady.

After plugging her phone in for the night, she curls gratefully under the warmth of her doona. This winter feels particularly cold, and she can’t help a shiver at the thought of it getting colder than it already is.

______________________________________________________________________

Alya bursts into the classroom accompanied by a flurry of cold air and a slightly manic grin. She goes to take her seat next to Marinette, only to find Marinette’s usual seat occupied by Nino.

And then she looks closer, and sees that curled in next to Nino is a bundle of winter wear topped by Marinette’s dark hair. She takes her seat next to the pair of them, and watches in fascination as Marinette appears to try and become one with Nino’s puffer jacket.

“Is Mari okay?”

“I think she’s just really super cold, dude.”

Adrien sticks his head over the desk in front of Nino. “He was talking to Kim, and she grabbed him on his way past before he could sit down.”

Alya chuckles. “It’s not even that cold, Mari,” she says, reaching out to tweak the end of Marinette’s pigtail. “Give her here, Nino.”

Nino sighs gently, “Cmon, dude. It’s Alya’s turn for snuggles,” he coaxes, as he gently lever’s Marinette off his side. It takes a minute before she’s detached enough that Nino can tip her into Alya’s side. The moment Marinette makes contact with Alya’s shoulder, she lets out a little sigh and burrows into Alya’s side.

Adrien grins at the pair of them, before his smile softens as he looks at Marinette. Alya suppresses a gleeful grin at his expression. He keeps looking at Marinette even as he addresses Alya. “I’ll lend her my notes, Alya. I’ll email them over after I get home.”

He turns back around as Nino takes his seat and Mme. Bustier claps to call everyone’s attention to the front of the classroom to start taking the roll.

______________________________________________________________________

The winter holidays started five days ago, and Alya is already missing her friends. It's really getting too cold to go out chasing akuma fights (loath as she is to concede), and the grey mornings light up streets edged by slush. According to the texts they've been sending each other, Marinette has barely left the house since school ended, because “its to coold to be outside, alyaa :(“ . She’s a bit worried about her bestie, honestly. Even Nino, who’s known her for years, says she never used to seem this sensitive to the cold weather.

Luckily, Alya has a cunning plan.

Her phone lights up with a bunch of texts from Nino

BF 🐢 : adrien-napping a success

BF 🐢 : operation Blanket Pile™ is a go!

BF 🐢 : just getting snacs, and we are on our way

BF 🐢 : adrien has the blankets

BF 🐢 : eta 10 💙

Alya smiles at her phone, then hefts her bag and starts walking towards Marinette’s.

Als ❤️ : omw jst laeving park nw will wait fr u outside side dorr maris parents kno were cming see u soon xo babe ❤️

It’s not long before she sees the pair approach from the direction of the lycée . Nino is bouncing along as he talks excitedly with Adrien, who has both his hands full managing a slightly teetering stack of blankets. As they approach, Alya stretches up on her toes to wave at them.

Nino grins as they join her at the door. Adrien, in contrast, offers a shy smile and hangs back a little, as though unsure of his welcome. She knows he’s been to see Marinette before, he has no reason to be shy about it, but Nino seems unconcerned, so Alya turns to open the door so they can all go inside.

The bakery is warm, and Alya can see Tom at the counter, gregarious and entertaining for the customers. Sabine is keeping an eye on the ovens from in the back as they pass, and Alya waves to her as their little group goes by. They have to take their shoes off at the top of the stairs, which almost causes an incident when Adrien tries to take off his shoes without first handing over his blanket burden. Luckily, his balance is as good as Marinette’s is bad, and he rights himself and his blanket stack without stacking it or dropping anything.

Nino leads the way to Marinette’s room and shouts up the stairs with glee.

“Marinette, dude!” he announces. “Can we come up? We have blankets!”

“And snacks!” Alya adds.

There’s a slight thump, which means Marinette probably just fell off of her desk chair again. Or maybe dropped a textbook. The trapdoor lifts and her head pokes over the edge of the hole at the top of the stairs. She’s braided her hair over one shoulder today, almost certainly because she didn’t expect visitors. The plait is falling apart a little, loose strands falling free and messy. She tucks some behind one ear as she grins at them, and Adrien lets out a small squeak from beside Alya at the gesture.

“What are you guys doing here?” Marinette exclaims.

“We have come to bury you in blankets!” Alya calls. “Also, we missed hanging out with you, girl.”

Marinette laughs. “I’ll never say no to blankets.” Even in the warmth of her room, she’s clearly wearing at least one jumper. “Come in!”

They all troop up the stairs, and Alya looks around the room, noticing that the blankets seem to be multiplying in here.

“Right. Let’s get this blanket party started,” she says, and Adrien and Nino set to building the ultimate blanket nest in the middle of the floor as she bounds up to Marinette and pulls her into a tight hug. Marinette lets out a slight squeak by her left ear, before sighing gently and melting into the hug.

“Mmm, you're so warm, Alya,” she mumbles.

Alya chuckles and leads her over to the blankets, Adrien and Nino already buried in the layers. “Mandatory friendship cuddles are even warmer.” she says, settling Marinette next to Adrien before plopping down next to her and swaddling blankets around them both.

It ends, as it sort of began, in a pile of blankets and the warmth of friendship and bakery ovens. Marinette falls asleep fairly soon after, her head buried Alya’s shoulder and her arm curled around Adrien. The rest of them talk the afternoon quietly away as snow starts to drift down outside. Alya tucks one arm around Nino and watches fondly as Adrien curls into Marinette.

It is, after all, a perfect afternoon.

There was Jack, looking smaller than usual, as he's swallowed up by the passenger seat. The seat Dean spent the first twenty years of his life in, with that too big cardboard box, precariously balancing on his lap as he sifts through the cassettes. Llike Dean had done so many times before. He's got a blinding smile on his face, looking hopefully up at Dean.

Dean knew this day would come of course. Pretty much every second of Jack's life is filled with his music, hell there's one of his tapes playing on radio thats sitting in the grass. Plus, Jack's always got a question about pretty much everything under the sun, so he should have seen it coming sooner rather than later.

And now his four year old son anxiously awaits Dean's answer about that beat up cardboard box, held together by at least 3 rolls of duct tape, asking the same question he asked all those years ago. And Jack's beaming up at him like he's about to reveal all of world's secrets, and that's when Dean knows.

He knows he's already failed.

So with a heavy sigh, Dean climbed into the back, officially giving up on his cheerio mission, and carefully folded his arms across the top of the front bench.

"Well, most of them I've had for a long time, a lot of them I've bought myself, and a few of them are Uncle Sammy's-some are Daddy's and some of them I made for Daddy, or he made for me too" Dean replied evenly, easily avoiding any mention of his father (because he sure as hell isn't exposing details about John Winchester to his four year old), and praying that his heart doesn't hammer out of his chest. And he hopes to god that it was a sufficient answer, but if Jack's anything like Dean, and he is, he'll have numerous follow up questions. Because in Dean's opinion, Jack is too much like him already.

Because like Dean, Jack had loved music from the very start. From Dean humming Smoke on the Water being the only thing to soothe the crying infant, to the toddler becoming a little Matilda and making every friggin thing they own fly around the War Room to a Queen album. To Jack in the backseat screaming "words" somewhat similar to the lyrics of Dean's favorite songs, to jumping around in front of the tv as his favorite characters dance and sing on the screen, to dancing around the kitchen in their new home to Dean's tapes, or twirling around the living room to Cas' favorite records. All care free smiles, and laughter, spinning around to the beat.

And, Dean with hazy memories of his mother's Beatles records drifting through the halls, his parents dancing in the living room to Zeppelin, to hearing those same Zepp songs in the late hours of the night, as they floated from the Impala's radio. To his Dad's tapes rattling the car as he raced down an abandoned highway after a particularly bad hunt, to his Dad smiling when he asked about the contents of cardboard box one day. To Dean always carefully picking the right tapes, asking him to turn up the volume at the right times, gushing about the right guitar solos, anything to gain an approving smile from the driver's seat.

To him learning how to reclaim that box of plastic as his own, to struggling with separating the sound from the source. To understanding that his love for those songs, those albums, those tapes, are all his own. Which sounds ridiculous, but sometimes those kinda things are, because sometimes the littlest things are the hardest.

And those are things Dean never wants Jack to go through. He just wants his kid to enjoy the music he enjoys, no strings attached. And yes Jack's only four, but so was he at the time. And Jack already mimics Dean's actions and phrases, and has tried to dress like him on more than one occasion. So Dean's pretty sure his paranoia is justified.

Because he's alrea-

"Oh. I like them, especially the ones that make Baby all shakey" Jack nodded sagely, as he stares up at Dean like he hung the moon and the stars, gaging his response.

And so Dean knows, he's already failed. His son is only four and he's already seeking his approval. It's all too painfully familiar.

"Yeah buddy, I like them too.....but remember you ca-you can like whatev-you can listen to whichever songs make you ha-make you feel hap-" Dean struggles to get out, but he's cut short by tires crunching on the pavement.

"Da!" Jack screeches, and then he's out of the car, patiently waiting by the Impala until Cas turns off his own car, to launch himself into his arms.

Damnit-well not damnit because of course he's thrilled his husband his home, but he wante-needed to tell Jack that he didn't have to like Dean's music, or hell Cas' music, that he could be his own person. But maybe Jack will never bring it up again, and Dean didn't totally fai-

"Did you two have a good morning? Also I'm starving" Cas greeted, as he pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips, which of course pulls a laugh from him.

"Hello to you too Sunshine, let's go eat" Dean chuckles with a fond eyeroll, but Cas' smile dips slightly as he takes in Dean's features.

Of course he can tell something's wrong, and maybe Dean will tell him later, but honestly he's kinda banking on Jack never discussing it again, so he'd rather not risk it.

"Alright Jack let's get you buckled in, Daddy is practically wasting away over here" Dean exaggeratedly calls out, causing Cas to swat at his arm, and thankfully get into the passenger seat without another word.

And lucky for Dean, the rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully. They got lunch at the usual place, they all tossed Jack's new giant frisbee around in the backyard and now Jack is helping Cas out in the garden, while Dean gets started on dinner, burgers like every Sunday. So maybe Jack asking about the tapes was a one time deal? Maybe he won-

"Dee I have a question" Jack asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway.

Damnit.

"Okay kiddo, why don't you sit down while I grab you some juice, you must be working hard out there" Dean stalls, but in his defense it is hot out and Jack's face is a little pink. Jack thankfully sits at the kitchen table and takes a big sip from the juice box Dean handed him.

"Ask away, Squirt" Dean urges with a slightly unsteady voice. His back is too Jack as he works on seasoning the ground beef.

"You said you made Daddy tapes and Daddy made you tapes? Like the Billy one Daddy gave you that you like?"

Yeah. Definitely not a one time deal then.

"Uh huh, Daddy did make me that one. And I made him a few too" Dean responds carefully, as he silently wills his heart rate to slow down.

"Ohhh. I want to make a special tape too"

And that was not what Dean was expecting. He quickly spins around to face Jack, who's sitting in his usual seat, legs swinging underneath him.

"Yeah, I asked Daddy and he said that you made him a tape, and that he made you some too. And he said that they were special, and had your favorite songs. And I want to make my favorite songs special too! And Daddy said if I ask nice, that you'd help me" Jack explained as he bounced up to sit on his knees.

Dean was frozen in place. Jack wants to make a mixtape, with his own favorite songs. That he likes, that he choses. Not Dean or Cas', just his own "special songs".

And Dean could cry from relief. Maybe he hadn't failed Jack. Because Jack really doesn't care about Dean or Cas' music, it's just about the tapes.

"Of course, bud. I'll help you make a list of your most special, favorite songs after dinner, sound good? But why don't you go finish helping Daddy plant those new flowers" Dean replied, feeling lighter than he had all day as he watched Jack skip back outside, throwing Dean an excited thank you.

And true to his word, after dinner Dean and Jack sat at the tiny table in his room, getting ready to pick his "special songs".

"Alright Squirt, what greatest hits are we starting with?" Dean smiled, grabbing a piece of paper and a blue marker from Jack's little desk.

"Toy Story and Pooh tummy" Jack declared and Dean quickly scribbled down the songs knowing exactly what he meant with a smile.

And there they sat, Jack rambling off song after song based upon some lyrics he sort of remembered, or simply the beat of the songs, Dean easily identifying most of them, but making note of the ones they'd have to research more later. Jack giggling in his seat every time Dean gives a wildly incorrect guess or names a song he knows Jack doesn't like.

Dean's feeling like an idiot for how much he panicked twice earlier. Damn, he really was paranoid for nothing because Jack hasn-

"And the one we dance in the kitchen with the heart? OH and the one on Da's record with the oh woah woah woahs?"

Fuck.

And just like that Dean's tossed back to this afternoon, heart racing, the fear of failure clawing it's way up his throat. Because he did. He did fail. God he's just like Jo-nope. Maybe not.

Because he would never try to fix it, but Dean would.

"Jack, buddy, it's your mixtape, you don't have to put our songs on there, bud. It's supposed to be all about yo-"

"But you said its gotta be my favorites? And they're special too?" Jack questioned with an all too familiar tilt of his head that would usually make Dean laugh, but instead caused him to take a sharp breath.

He has to fix this. Before it's too late, before Jack has to-

"Yes, they are special to me and Daddy, but it doesn't mean that you ha-"

"But I like them, because you and Da-"

No, he has to fix this. He can fix this

"Jack, you don't have to like them just because me and Daddy like them. You're allowed to hate the tapes and the records we listen to, because you can listen to whatever songs you want to" Dean somehow manages to choke out amidst his rising panic.

Dean failed. He failed. Jack likes those songs just because he thinks it'll make them happy. Jack doesn't deserve to think that. It's too familiar and Dean needs to shut it down, now. Before it's too late, before Jack starts believing that it's the only way to get their approval, get Dean's approval, before he starts loving those songs, before he grows up and starts to hate them and himself fo-

"I know that" Jack says matter of factly looking at Dean like he's an idiot.

And he freezes.

"I know, because I don't like that one on Da's record that's all slooooow, or the one you always play in Baby it's too yelly. And the one that Uncle Sammy sings really loud. But I like the one in the kitchen it's fun! And the woah-oh one Da always jumps with me" Jack continues simply, without a care in the world, but looking wise beyond his years.

Jack doesn't lik-no hates some of Dean's songs, he hates Cas' songs, hell he even hates some of Sam's.

So Dean didn't fail. He'd didn't damn his only son to years of self loathing and anger, at age four. He didn't fuck him up yet. And instead, helped him find a song, that they can both love together, without any strings attached, no expectations. No search for approval.

And Dean's just so-

"Oh can we have the one from Moana with the coconut?" Jack asked with a blinding smile as he leaned across the little table, Dean's heart clenching at the sight.

"Of course, Squirt. We can put whatever songs you'd like" Dean smiles, voice thick as he writes down Jack's latest suggestion.

And so after several wrong guesses, combing through an entire season of Phineas and Ferb looking for the correct song, and very serious sticker choosing process, "Jack's Top 13 Summer Traxx" made it's way into that beat up, old cardboard box.

And if Dean listened to nothing but that tape every single time Jack was in the car, for the next the next three months? Well that was nobody's business but his own.

Tag list pt 1:

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