shadowtina (shadowtina) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2021-12-10 11:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | #june 2018, dean, dean x jen, jen |
Who: Dean & Jen
Where: Home
When:Saturday afternoon, 6/23
One of the many super-not-fun things about getting a job at a supermarket was the hours they set. Jen couldn't really be pushy about what kind of hours she wanted to work, the whole vibe was that she was just lucky to have a job considering she was an idiot teenager without any experience so she took the shifts she was given. The job was mind-numbingly boring and she felt like she could still hear the beeping of the register as she biked home, tired and a little cranky. This was not the job for her and it more than inspired her to go study something amazing so she wouldn't get stuck in a shitty place like this one. There were probably tricks to getting through the day, ones she hadn't learned yet, and it would probably help if she liked her coworkers but so far she didn't and the fact they wanted her to show up to a staff party at some point did not endear them to her.
She wasn't surprised to find her dad wasn't home when she walked into the house, kicking her shoes off and making a bee-line for the kitchen. Her back and feet hurt from all the new shit she was doing and god she was not used to standing for so long at a time! She was so going to put on weight this summer, comfort food was the best after a boring shift and they had plenty of it. Thankfully she didn't really care.
Dean was hungover and sore and felt like despondent shit, so he’d spent a good portion of the afternoon dozing on the couch. He didn’t even turn the TV on, just browsed on his phone whenever he woke up until he got sleepy again. He’d opened one of the windows to get fresh air into the house, and it was all kind of peaceful and nice with the house emptied out. So the noise of someone coming home startled him awake, and he rolled over just in time to catch a glimpse of Jen heading into the kitchen. Dean knew he probably could’ve just gone back to sleep, she wouldn’t bother him, but his mouth was dry and tasted awful anyway, so it was probably time to get up. His eye could probably use some ice, too. Clearing his throat, Dean got up, wincing at the bruises and sore muscles under his clothes. He was getting way too old for fist fights. “Hey kiddo,” he murmured rustily as he walked into the kitchen.
He sounded awful and Jen barely looked up from the fridge where she was getting something to eat but she could imagine he looked pretty bad too, she just thought that meant he looked sleepy and riddled with a hangover. "Hey," she said as she started pulling out toppings and apple juice, closing the fridge with her hip as she turned around. "Rough night?" She looked up then and her eyes widened as she took in Dean's face. "Oh wow, yeah, definitely. Please tell me the other guy looks worse?" Or maybe that wasn't a good thing, her dad probably wouldn't think so but Jen wasn't Grady and she gave Dean a sympathetic frown as she studied the bruises around his left eye. She couldn't help but do what her dad probably would do in her place, look down at his knuckles to see if he'd given as good as he'd gotten.
He’d gotten a few licks in before Deputy Jansen had broken up the fight, so there were some bruises and scrapes on his knuckles too, but Dean wasn’t even sure who they’d landed on now. He’d been drunk and everything had been painful chaos and then he was in cuffs. At the moment what stung even more than his eye was being called out like that by his teenage niece, and he gave her a pained little smile. “He had friends with him,” he told her. “So ... no. I got the worst of it. Don’t judge me.” Dean picked up a dish towel from the counter, sniffed it, then moved to the freezer once Jen made some room to fish some ice out. Once he had a makeshift ice pack in the towel, he plopped down at the kitchen table and pressed it lightly to his eye.
"What happened?" Jen asked and she wasn't judging but she was concerned. A fight was one thing but if the guy had friends with him, that sounded more like assault. "I'll make you some coffee." He didn't look like he was in any shape to do anything really, so she supposed she could at least make him some snack - or breakfast since he looked like he'd just woken up - if he even had the appetite for anything. Would he even tell her what went down? Jen had a hard time imagining an actual bar fight, it didn't feel like something that happened close to her somehow. She'd only once seen a fight break out at a party and it had been kind of pathetic more than anything and she was sure none of the boys had gone home with any real injuries.
Dean wasn’t sure he had the energy to make up a plausible lie to feed her, and for a moment he felt very weary and full of regret about coming here. He sighed. “It was, ah ... an old grudge flaring back up, over stuff from years back. Stuff your dad wouldn’t want me to tell you about.” Dean offered her a crooked smile that hurt his split lip. He was positive that Grady hadn’t discussed Dean’s more illegal activities with his kids. Dean was resigned to the fact that it would all come out eventually now that they were almost grown up, and he wasn’t looking forward to the humiliation. Especially not today when his ego was already as bruised as his body was. “Coffee would be great though, thanks,” he added in a murmur.
Jen gave him a pointed look before she turned to start making coffee. "Since when do you listen to dad?" she asked and she felt like maybe he wanted to tell her or he could have made up some convenient lie. Telling her that her dad wouldn't want to know was a guarantee that she'd want to know. "I'm legally an adult now," she reminded him. "You can talk to me." Grady wouldn't see it that way but that was his role in life; protecting everyone and especially his kids, he might even take that role too seriously at times.
Being a legal adult didn’t always line up with level of maturity, but he knew Jen was no slouch in that regard either. She was a smart, self-possessed young woman, and part of Dean did want to be honest with her. He didn’t like lying to the people who mattered to him, and that was always easier when he was miles away instead of sitting at their kitchen table. He shifted the ice pack on his eye and gave a noncommittal little grunt. “Maybe I don’t want you to lose all respect for me,” he said, pushing out a soft chuckle to make it sound more lighthearted than it felt. Maybe Jen didn’t have any to begin with, but Dean didn’t want to know that either.
"Aww," Jen cooed as she turned on the coffee machine and then turned around and walked over to Dean, leaning down to hug him very gingerly. "Even if I lose all respect for you, I'll still love you," she told him with an amused smile. "Besides, if you don't tell me anything I'll probably just imagine something that's way worse than the truth." She probably wouldn't, it was hard to imagine Dean doing something awful and if her dad knew about it, how bad could it really be? Maybe he'd fucked someone's girlfriend - or wife - but Jen doubted he'd done something straight up illegal.
Dean chuckled and patted Jen’s arm with his free hand at the hug. It was a sweet and hilarious sentiment, honestly, and deserved more of a laugh than he could currently give. He wasn’t sure how dark Jen’s imagination could go, but he didn’t want her to think he was a rapist or a pimp or anything like that, so he supposed he had cornered himself into confessing at least one thing. “I have, uh ... a gambling ... thing. Issue, I guess. Especially when I drink. And I tend to just ... fuck off somewhere else when I get into trouble. But that only really works if you stay away.” He gave her a wan smile. The gambling was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to his illegal activities, but it was the one Jen would probably have the most sympathy for.
Gambling debts sounded way worse than extramarital affairs and Jen wasn't sure what to make of it so she busied herself with getting him some coffee. It all made her really feel how sheltered she was because she didn't really know anything about how all that worked. Was it like the movies? Could they expect some shitty people to come banging down the door in the middle of the night? Was that why he'd chosen to stay with his sheriff brother? "Okay yeah, that sounds bad," she admitted and bit back on all the things she could probably say in this situation, things like 'have you tried drinking less' or 'have you tried therapy'. "How much money do you owe?" she asked instead as she put the cup down in front of him and went back to the counter to make herself some toast.
Dean murmured a ‘thanks’ at the coffee and pulled it in closer just to curl his fingers around the hot mug for a moment. The outside of his eye was getting fairly numb, but his eyeball felt like a blob of ice in his skull and that sucked. Everything kind of sucked at the moment. Dean would’ve rather answered questions about therapy than recite the number that was constantly pulsing in the back of his mind like a neon tumor. “That I’m not going to say,” he said with a faint, humorless chuckle. “It’s a lot -- not to the guy from last night, so don’t worry about him turning up or anything. But back in the city. That’s kinda why I’m here, I needed a place to get my feet under me again.” Dean wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, all but admitting he needed his big brother’s help and protection, to his teenage niece, no less. It also made him want to spike his coffee, but that would only make his headache worse, he was sure.
God, so he was hiding from someone bad. Jen didn't really know how to feel about that and she was definitely going to confide all of this in Phee, maybe see if she could help somehow, give him some protective thing or anything that might help. She sighed quietly and when the toaster was done she glanced over at Dean. "You want some toast? We've got nutella or just ham and cheese, I can make you some if you want." What she really wanted to ask him was how bad were the people he owed money to, were they the kind to just call a lawyer or would they break his kneecaps or something if they found him? She didn't want to think about anything more serious than that, someone so close to her couldn't be in that kind of trouble - it was just Too Big.
He wasn’t sure what to think of that non-response, but he was sort of grateful for it at the same time. Dean didn’t want to get into all the details with Jen, it was all stuff he wasn’t proud of and she didn’t need to know. Grady’s warning to not attract any danger to the house echoed in Dean’s mind again, and he felt some more shame about being there in the first place. “Nah, I’m not very hungry,” he murmured. “Thank you though.” He should probably eat something and he would later, but for now Dean’s stomach felt touchy, he just wanted to drink his coffee and take some painkillers. “You got any Advil or anything handy?” He lowered the ice pack to gingerly poke at his swollen eye before he took a drink of coffee.
Jen abandoned her toast for a few seconds to tiptoe and reach for the advil in the overhead cabinet, bringing the pack over to Dean. "You should eat something with that," she said, unwittingly echoing his thoughts. "Your stomach will thank you." It didn't really require an answer and she didn't expect one from him as she went back to buttering her toast and getting something to drink. "What kinda gambling did you do? Horses? Poker? Something else?" She thought she could understand the rush of it, whenever something did get her excited it was hard to let go, maybe Dean felt the same way, like life really needed more spice in it, more magic.
Dean muttered a thanks and just grunted to her mothering comment as he popped a couple of pills out of the pack and tossed them into his mouth. He didn’t particularly want to answer Jen’s question, the more he talked the worse he was going to sound, he knew that. Dean already missed the days when he could just throw her up on his shoulders and spin around to make her happy. “All of the above,” he murmured with a humorless chuckle. “Sports bets, horses, poker, blackjack, roulette. Never was much into slot machines, so that’s something, I guess.” He tried not to play games of complete chance, preferring to strategize wherever he could, though it was hard to stay away from roulette tables when he was in a casino. There was just something about the sound that he loved. It was an addiction, Dean knew that, but he’d won enough times to justify it in his brain. Plus, it wasn’t like gambling was the worst way he spent his time, but he wasn’t planning on telling her about the car thievery. “Still love me?” he asked with a wan smile.
Jen pursed her lips and gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't know," she said, drawing out the words dramatically before shooting him a grin. "Of course I still love you, you don't have to be perfect to be loved, you dork." It was a lot though and she was sure he was lucky in that she didn't know a whole lot about that world. Maybe it was worse than she thought, maybe he was involved with something way darker, but he was still her uncle Dean. It made a little more sense how fretful Grady could be about him but that was about all that changed. "Just don't get yourself killed by some mafia men, deal?" she said, half kidding and hoping it was fully a joke and so far from his reality that she didn't ever have to worry about that.
He might not have to be perfect, but what if he was just bad? Dean knew he was hungover and hurting from the night before, but he didn’t like how down he felt. He never felt this kind of guilt when he was living out on his own in the world, with no worries about anyone else’s opinion. It wasn’t that he forgot his family existed, it was just easier to manage the weight of obligation when they were states away from him. “Deal,” Dean told Jen, giving a soft huff through his nose. He wasn’t sure that his situation was that dire ... but he got the feeling it could be. It was more likely that they would just hurt him until he paid them. He just hoped they wouldn’t drag his family into it too. “I’ll get it figured out, I always do,” he added. Dean lowered his ice pack again to finish off his coffee. “So how are you doin’? How was your first day?”
"Boring enough it made me miss school," Jen said with a sigh as she moved to sit down with her food. "I kinda wish I could just get a job that I can do from home on my own time. I did pretty good at school with just keeping up with my homework, this really sucks. I'm pretty sure the beeping will drive me insane too, you know, scanning everything." She rolled her eyes and wondered if this was what drove people to crimes - and gambling. "Totally keeping my eyes peeled for something else to do, I'm not sure I can hang in there for even a week."
Dean cringed sympathetically. “Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out thoughtfully. “I remember those early retail days. I didn’t last long doing it either.” Dean chuckled. There weren’t a lot of opportunities in Point Pleasant for teenage work, if you didn’t want to scan groceries or wait tables. Dean couldn’t see Jen being very happy doing either of those things. He himself had delivered pizzas for Dinos for a couple of years, but Jen didn’t have a car yet. It made him wish he wasn’t a fuckup so he could buy her one. “Any vague idea what else you might wanna look for? I can keep my ears open too.”
Jen had to smirk at that. Her idea of fun jobs might not be for everyone but Dean already knew that so she wouldn't be springing any surprises on him. "Paid internship with a forensics expert? Taking care of bugs?" She tittered and knew neither of those things were a remote possibility and not only because she lived in a small town. "I applied at the museum too, so if you wanna go strong arm them into hiring me I won't complain." She couldn't really imagine Dean strong arming anyone, especially not some dorky museum people, but it made for a funny idea. "I'm sure I'll get used to this though. It like... builds character or some shit. I'll be super happy to start school again."
He chuckled at the idea of roughing up some museum nerds for his niece, especially looking like the wreck he was today. It was cartoonish in his head, and probably Jen’s too. “It at least makes you appreciate the people who work those jobs more,” Dean said. “Always always be nice to waiters and janitors and shelf-stockers and other blue collar folks, they’re pretty thankless gigs.” He gently pressed his ice pack to his eye again. It was starting to get drippy as the ice melted, but the cold still felt good. “Is that a goal of yours though? Being a forensics expert?” It sounded like a lot of schooling to Dean, something he’d never been good at, but he wanted to encourage Jen if she already had an idea of what she wanted to do with her life.
"I don't know yet," Jen said but it was fascinating to her. "I'm gonna talk to a counselor at college, find out what kind of things I could do. Forensics sounds cool in theory, or maybe I'll be a spooky mortician." She wiggled her fingers at him like she'd just suggested becoming a witch and laughed because it was really silly. "I just don't freak out easily over stuff like that so I think I'd be good at it. Or maybe like an archeologist. What can I say, I like digging around and I like bugs. That's a start, I guess. Did you have a clue when you graduated high school?"
All of those sounded like good potential dreams to have, and Dean grinned at Jen’s cute wiggly fingers. “That’s definitely a start, and the world’s always gonna need morticians, so that’d be good job security,” he said. That line of work would creep him the fuck out, Dean wasn’t a huge fan of dead people, but if it didn’t bother Jen, then she was welcome to it. “I had no fucking idea,” he added with a laugh. “I had way less of a clue than you do right now. I was too into partying and girls to even want to think about it, so ... you’re doing good.” He gave her a warm smile and wished it didn’t look so battered on him.
It did look kind of pathetic on him and yet he still looked so handsome, some people were just blessed like that and Jen wondered if her uncle ever had his ugly mornings like the rest of them. His words might have been more comforting if he had his shit together today, but evidently he did not, so hearing that he had no direction in high school didn't really come as a surprise. "I'm so undecided," Jen murmured. "I'm just kinda hoping I'll discover something awesome in college and get swept up in it. I get so bored with things all the time." Except bugs, magic, finding little clues and solving strange puzzles. She at least had that and it was supposedly useful in some fields of work.
Dean waved his free hand and made a face. “Don’t -- I really don’t get why we expect eighteen year olds to have their whole damn life trajectory figured out immediately after high school -- don’t worry about being undecided. You’re supposed to be undecided at this point in life,” he told her. “You could totally fall in love with something random in college, or you could dip your fingers into all kinds of stuff until you find what you like, or you could totally change careers at fifty, who knows, right? I know I don’t seem like a dude who can give good advice, but trust me, this is a good one. Just keep your eyes and mind open, you’ll find your niche. But be patient with yourself, okay? You’ve got all kinds of time.” He knew already for a fact that Jen wouldn’t turn out like he had, so he didn’t see the need to say that out loud. Hopefully she knew it too.
Jen liked hearing that but she'd probably like hearing it even more from someone who was doing great at life and even if it sounded about right, the reality felt so different. "Some of my classmates totally had their whole lives planned out, like they picked a college to go to three years ago, they're in every club and student council and works. So yeah, some people got it all figured out, even if they're just eighteen. Or sixteen." She pulled a face but really, she envied them. What she wouldn't give for that kind of certainty and self confidence. The world didn't exactly inspire much confidence either and a part of her felt pretty down about it all, like there was no point in building a career in a society that was crumbling. The thing she had going for her was that she was interested in a lot of things and she had a feeling that might see her through.
“Those types of people are the ones who burn out before twenty-five and lose their minds. Maybe -- maybe -- a tiny percent of them become billionaires, but ...” Dean trailed off and shrugged. He knew he wasn’t the best person to sit around and dole out advice to impressionable youth, but he cared about Jen and he didn’t want her to spend her senior summer stressed out because she didn’t know what career she wanted yet. “It’ll all work out,” he added. Dean realized that probably sounded lame and hard to believe coming from a forty year old man with a black eye and busted lip, not to mention thousands in debt. He stood up with a little groan and moved to the freezer to refresh his ice pack. His headache was just not going away. “I’m gonna quit talking out of my ass and go lie down.”
Jen was not loving the idea of some of those kids she knew becoming billionaires, especially not the ones who already had rich Overlook parents, so she kind of hoped that percentage was zero. Unless it benefited the town, she supposed. The PPPD could always use more funding. Ooph that made her feel responsible in a really grown-up and dumb way, had she already been this down to earth and boring? She shook it off when Dean stood up, wincing a little in sympathy. "Pretty wise words for a butt," she told him as she saluted him with her toast. "Go sleep it off, Mr. Gambling Man." Her playful smile for him only faded once he'd left the kitchen. It felt weird to see the people in her life in a new light as she got older, like every year she added on peeled off layers of disguises here and there. Sometimes she really missed the people she'd thought they'd been and that went for Dean too. He might not be falling off his pedestal but that pedestal seemed to be getting a little smaller.