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The Seduction of Scott, Part 20, Supernatural, Keeper Verse, PG-13
Title: The Seduction of Scott, Part 20
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, John, Scott (alas! no Aristotle)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship, nothing explicit here)
Word Count: 1823
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Writtend by my friend M, Part 20 brings some Dana-misery regarding college and a big step toward PROM!
She was sobbing in the basement corner.
“You do know it isn’t typical to cry in a dirty basement after getting acceptance letters from Harvard, Wellesley and Dartmouth in the same day, right?”
He lowered himself down next to her, rested his back on the wall, stretched his legs out in front of him.
Dana lifted her head up from its cocoon on her knees. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen, she’d been crying hard for a good long while. The sob that erupted from her chest at his words and shook her body indicated she wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon.
“Oh honey,” Dean said, “is it that bad?”
She dropped her head back down, nodding into her knees, hiccupping.
“You had to know that you’d get into at least one of the twenty-two thousand schools Sam made you apply to.”
More tears, her body shaking.
Dean’s heart ached watching her.
“Kiddo, you’ve faced horrific monsters without breaking a sweat. Why is a fancy ass school causing a complete meltdown?”
Something he said or how he said it caused the tears abruptly to stop. Dean issued an audible sigh of relief.
She lifted her head about two inches. “Please Dad please. I can’t go that far. Need to be here. Please.”
Tear stained cheeks. Red eyes. Messy hair. He watched her wipe snot from her nose with her sleeve. He saw the naked desperation in eyes that were normally playful and daring. It would be oh so easy to say, “Ok sweetie” and accede to her wish. But it wasn’t that easy. Nothing with Dana, or Sam for that matter, was ever easy.
“What is so awful about getting the best education possible?”
She summed it up in one word, “Distance.”
His heart seized up in his chest. Most kids were desperate to get away from home, to escape their parents’ clutches. His was desperate to stay.
“I found you in this basement when you were eight. Running away from home with your stuffed dog.”
“I was nine. Sam found me. And it was a stuffed bunny.” She sniffed then the tears resumed. Through her hiccups she choked out, “He’s s-s-s-so h-h-h-hap-p-py. I c-c-can f-f-f-feeeelll it.”
No reason to deny it. “Yes. Sam is practically floating.” Dana moaned as if knifed. Dean reached over and gathered her into his arms, as if she was nine again. He kissed her forehead and held on tight until she reigned in her crying jag.
“Dad. Please. Kansas is a great school. I can run there. Just tell him. Please.” She said it softly and fervently.
Every bit of him wanted to say ‘Yes’. But a part of him knew she needed to be away from here, away from them. She acted much too responsible for them. She worried endlessly about them. Sam was right about that, if nothing else, in all of this.
“Here’s my offer. You pick whichever of those wussy schools you find least disgusting and you go for one semester. If you are totally miserable, you can come home. But you try it.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “It’s so much money.”
That caught him off guard. She had never in her life been reluctant to spend Sam’s money. “What?” he asked.
“It’s a lot of money Dad,” she said it slowly. “Where did Sam get that kind of money?”
Dean laughed. “Why do you care?” Then he caught her eyes, the sick with worry look in her eyes. .“Oh, you think he stole it or something?” The eyes were watching, reading his face. “Ok, I’ll tell you this. He did traffic stuff, but all fairly legal.” The eyes were still evaluating and he knew he couldn’t lie. “And he has made some mind-blowing investments.”
They sat for long minutes. She was definitely calmer. The tears had abated.
“Need Kleenex,” she mumbled.
“Yes, you do – a giant box. And some cold water on those eyes,” he said jokingly then changed his tone to serious. “Are you more worried about leaving us or about the money?”
She managed a small smile, “Leaving.” He nodded, expected that reply. There was time to deal with this topic later.
“Ok sweetheart, you’re upset but Sam is really happy and I don’t want you to spoil this for him. Give him this night. Be happy, celebrate. You can come back and cry a river later if you have to.”
She nodded and went to stand. He grabbed her hand to stop her. “Uh, one more thing. Papa’s here.”
“WHAT?” Dana’s sadness transformed to fury in two milliseconds. “How could he invite him here? Sam knows we aren’t speaking.”
“Dana,” he said, “I invited him. And all of that was two weeks ago, let it go.”
“Let it go? Papa took a swing at you the next day and dropped you to the ground,” she reached out and touched the remains of his shiner.
“Honey, honey, honey. I didn’t block the punch. You saw it. He telegraphed it and I let it connect.”
“How does that make it okay?” She was gasping for air. “He swung at you. He hit you.” The tears were coming back any second.
He rushed to staunch the tide. “This is a big event. You will pull yourself together, clean your face, change your clothes and make nice with your grandfather.” Dean gave her his sternest look. “That’s an order.”
She giggled, little and girlish. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”
She stood at the top of the staircase. She had put on her new red print skirt with lacey red top that Sam had bought for her last weekend, after she had left it circled in the ad on the kitchen table. Her hair was pulled up and pinned with the sterling silver, handcrafted hummingbird pin Sam had bought her from Santa Fe last month. She studied her nails; the nails she had done each Thursday afternoon, on Sam's dime.
Dad was right. She was going to walk down these stairs with a smile on her face. She owed him that much. She could hear the three of them, laughing about something. Ok, here goes and descended.
She saw three faces look up at her and words of congratulation filled the room.
Dana hugged Sam first, kissed his cheek. He wrapped his long arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Love flowed out of him towards her. She turned to her Dad who hugged her as well and whispered into her ear, “You clean up well, princess.” She giggled and pinched his arm.
Last, Dana faced her Papa. “You aren’t going to take a swing at me, are you?” John asked.
They all laughed and John enveloped her in a hug then let go and stepped back. “You looked like a banshee after I clocked Dean. If Sam hadn’t tackled you, I think you would have put the serious hurt on me.”
She laughed. “And I think you’re right,” she replied as cockily as possible. John and Dana exchanged a smile that held an unspoken understanding between old and young warriors.
Sam held up a tray with four, filled, old-style crystal champagne cups. Dana’s eyes were still on John and she saw his expression change.
“Where did you get these glasses?” John asked Sam, as he reached for one to study it more closely.
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to another. “A few years back we were in Kansas City and you stopped and stared at a glass in an antique store window. Said something about Mary’s pattern. You remember?”
John shook his head ‘No’. Sam continued, “I went back and bought it and have been picking them up here and there over time. Wanted Dana to have them.”
Dana felt the tears come rushing back. She fanned her face with her hand to stave them off. She asked in a shaky voice, “Grandma Mary had these?” She picked one up, studied it, noticed how the light played off the intricate cut of the crystal design. She wiped a tear off her cheek.
John replied, “Yes. They were Mary’s grandmother’s. Sam – these must have cost a fortune. How many do you have?”
Sam gave Dean a glass, took one for himself and set down the tray. “Set of eight.”
John pressed, “Set of eight champagne glasses?”
“Set of eight of goblets, wine, champagne, cordial and ice tea.”
Dana looked at him. She felt like a total brat, throwing a fit over leaving when all Sam wanted was the best for her, when all he had ever done was care for her and provide for her every need, even things she never dreamed of ever wanting. She felt herself flushing, the tears still very close to the surface. “You are too fucking much.”
Sam brushed it off, as if it were actually nothing. He held up his glass toward Dana. “Congrats sweetheart – to your academic success.”
Dana smiled and drank.
The phone rang during dessert, her favorite, strawberry shortcake or as Sam called it, “Dana’s excuse to ingest whipping cream.”
She swallowed her last bite, mumbled she would be right back and ran to the kitchen to answer the phone while licking the whipping cream off her lips and fingers.
“Hi Scott,” she answered.
“Where you been Dana?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “Having a little party. Got accepted to a couple of schools.”
“That’s awesome. Which ones?”
She waited a beat before replying, “Harvard, Wellesley, Dartmouth.”
“All three? Amazing! I’m dating an Ivy League kind of gal.”
Dana forced a laugh, the joy of the past two hours with the guys quickly dissipating by the reality of having to move to the East coast.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shook it off. “Fine, great, super. Did you hear from Stanford?”
She could almost hear him shrug. “Friday. The recruiter said I’d get a letter on Friday. I hate this waiting.”
“You’re gonna get in. Your times are so good and grades too. You’ll get in,” she reassured him for the hundredth time.
“Not why I called Dana,” he sounded vaguely nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong exactly. Dana, um, I want to, uh, ask you something.”
“Yeah? What?” She was scrambling to figure out what he could possibly be nervous about.
“I know you think it is sort of silly but it’s our last chance,” he was stumbling to get it out.
“Scott, what are you talking about? Last chance for what?”
“It’s just that I’m worried, uh, that you don’t, uh, want to go and I do and …”
“Go where Scott?”
Then the words rushed out and his voice cracked as he asked, “Will you be my date to Prom?”
“Oh Scott.” She bounced on her toes and levitated the flower vase above the table. “Yes. Yes.” She spun around.
“Awesome.”
Then the reality of Prom struck her.
“I need a dress.”
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, John, Scott (alas! no Aristotle)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship, nothing explicit here)
Word Count: 1823
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Writtend by my friend M, Part 20 brings some Dana-misery regarding college and a big step toward PROM!
She was sobbing in the basement corner.
“You do know it isn’t typical to cry in a dirty basement after getting acceptance letters from Harvard, Wellesley and Dartmouth in the same day, right?”
He lowered himself down next to her, rested his back on the wall, stretched his legs out in front of him.
Dana lifted her head up from its cocoon on her knees. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen, she’d been crying hard for a good long while. The sob that erupted from her chest at his words and shook her body indicated she wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon.
“Oh honey,” Dean said, “is it that bad?”
She dropped her head back down, nodding into her knees, hiccupping.
“You had to know that you’d get into at least one of the twenty-two thousand schools Sam made you apply to.”
More tears, her body shaking.
Dean’s heart ached watching her.
“Kiddo, you’ve faced horrific monsters without breaking a sweat. Why is a fancy ass school causing a complete meltdown?”
Something he said or how he said it caused the tears abruptly to stop. Dean issued an audible sigh of relief.
She lifted her head about two inches. “Please Dad please. I can’t go that far. Need to be here. Please.”
Tear stained cheeks. Red eyes. Messy hair. He watched her wipe snot from her nose with her sleeve. He saw the naked desperation in eyes that were normally playful and daring. It would be oh so easy to say, “Ok sweetie” and accede to her wish. But it wasn’t that easy. Nothing with Dana, or Sam for that matter, was ever easy.
“What is so awful about getting the best education possible?”
She summed it up in one word, “Distance.”
His heart seized up in his chest. Most kids were desperate to get away from home, to escape their parents’ clutches. His was desperate to stay.
“I found you in this basement when you were eight. Running away from home with your stuffed dog.”
“I was nine. Sam found me. And it was a stuffed bunny.” She sniffed then the tears resumed. Through her hiccups she choked out, “He’s s-s-s-so h-h-h-hap-p-py. I c-c-can f-f-f-feeeelll it.”
No reason to deny it. “Yes. Sam is practically floating.” Dana moaned as if knifed. Dean reached over and gathered her into his arms, as if she was nine again. He kissed her forehead and held on tight until she reigned in her crying jag.
“Dad. Please. Kansas is a great school. I can run there. Just tell him. Please.” She said it softly and fervently.
Every bit of him wanted to say ‘Yes’. But a part of him knew she needed to be away from here, away from them. She acted much too responsible for them. She worried endlessly about them. Sam was right about that, if nothing else, in all of this.
“Here’s my offer. You pick whichever of those wussy schools you find least disgusting and you go for one semester. If you are totally miserable, you can come home. But you try it.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “It’s so much money.”
That caught him off guard. She had never in her life been reluctant to spend Sam’s money. “What?” he asked.
“It’s a lot of money Dad,” she said it slowly. “Where did Sam get that kind of money?”
Dean laughed. “Why do you care?” Then he caught her eyes, the sick with worry look in her eyes. .“Oh, you think he stole it or something?” The eyes were watching, reading his face. “Ok, I’ll tell you this. He did traffic stuff, but all fairly legal.” The eyes were still evaluating and he knew he couldn’t lie. “And he has made some mind-blowing investments.”
They sat for long minutes. She was definitely calmer. The tears had abated.
“Need Kleenex,” she mumbled.
“Yes, you do – a giant box. And some cold water on those eyes,” he said jokingly then changed his tone to serious. “Are you more worried about leaving us or about the money?”
She managed a small smile, “Leaving.” He nodded, expected that reply. There was time to deal with this topic later.
“Ok sweetheart, you’re upset but Sam is really happy and I don’t want you to spoil this for him. Give him this night. Be happy, celebrate. You can come back and cry a river later if you have to.”
She nodded and went to stand. He grabbed her hand to stop her. “Uh, one more thing. Papa’s here.”
“WHAT?” Dana’s sadness transformed to fury in two milliseconds. “How could he invite him here? Sam knows we aren’t speaking.”
“Dana,” he said, “I invited him. And all of that was two weeks ago, let it go.”
“Let it go? Papa took a swing at you the next day and dropped you to the ground,” she reached out and touched the remains of his shiner.
“Honey, honey, honey. I didn’t block the punch. You saw it. He telegraphed it and I let it connect.”
“How does that make it okay?” She was gasping for air. “He swung at you. He hit you.” The tears were coming back any second.
He rushed to staunch the tide. “This is a big event. You will pull yourself together, clean your face, change your clothes and make nice with your grandfather.” Dean gave her his sternest look. “That’s an order.”
She giggled, little and girlish. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”
She stood at the top of the staircase. She had put on her new red print skirt with lacey red top that Sam had bought for her last weekend, after she had left it circled in the ad on the kitchen table. Her hair was pulled up and pinned with the sterling silver, handcrafted hummingbird pin Sam had bought her from Santa Fe last month. She studied her nails; the nails she had done each Thursday afternoon, on Sam's dime.
Dad was right. She was going to walk down these stairs with a smile on her face. She owed him that much. She could hear the three of them, laughing about something. Ok, here goes and descended.
She saw three faces look up at her and words of congratulation filled the room.
Dana hugged Sam first, kissed his cheek. He wrapped his long arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Love flowed out of him towards her. She turned to her Dad who hugged her as well and whispered into her ear, “You clean up well, princess.” She giggled and pinched his arm.
Last, Dana faced her Papa. “You aren’t going to take a swing at me, are you?” John asked.
They all laughed and John enveloped her in a hug then let go and stepped back. “You looked like a banshee after I clocked Dean. If Sam hadn’t tackled you, I think you would have put the serious hurt on me.”
She laughed. “And I think you’re right,” she replied as cockily as possible. John and Dana exchanged a smile that held an unspoken understanding between old and young warriors.
Sam held up a tray with four, filled, old-style crystal champagne cups. Dana’s eyes were still on John and she saw his expression change.
“Where did you get these glasses?” John asked Sam, as he reached for one to study it more closely.
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to another. “A few years back we were in Kansas City and you stopped and stared at a glass in an antique store window. Said something about Mary’s pattern. You remember?”
John shook his head ‘No’. Sam continued, “I went back and bought it and have been picking them up here and there over time. Wanted Dana to have them.”
Dana felt the tears come rushing back. She fanned her face with her hand to stave them off. She asked in a shaky voice, “Grandma Mary had these?” She picked one up, studied it, noticed how the light played off the intricate cut of the crystal design. She wiped a tear off her cheek.
John replied, “Yes. They were Mary’s grandmother’s. Sam – these must have cost a fortune. How many do you have?”
Sam gave Dean a glass, took one for himself and set down the tray. “Set of eight.”
John pressed, “Set of eight champagne glasses?”
“Set of eight of goblets, wine, champagne, cordial and ice tea.”
Dana looked at him. She felt like a total brat, throwing a fit over leaving when all Sam wanted was the best for her, when all he had ever done was care for her and provide for her every need, even things she never dreamed of ever wanting. She felt herself flushing, the tears still very close to the surface. “You are too fucking much.”
Sam brushed it off, as if it were actually nothing. He held up his glass toward Dana. “Congrats sweetheart – to your academic success.”
Dana smiled and drank.
The phone rang during dessert, her favorite, strawberry shortcake or as Sam called it, “Dana’s excuse to ingest whipping cream.”
She swallowed her last bite, mumbled she would be right back and ran to the kitchen to answer the phone while licking the whipping cream off her lips and fingers.
“Hi Scott,” she answered.
“Where you been Dana?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “Having a little party. Got accepted to a couple of schools.”
“That’s awesome. Which ones?”
She waited a beat before replying, “Harvard, Wellesley, Dartmouth.”
“All three? Amazing! I’m dating an Ivy League kind of gal.”
Dana forced a laugh, the joy of the past two hours with the guys quickly dissipating by the reality of having to move to the East coast.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shook it off. “Fine, great, super. Did you hear from Stanford?”
She could almost hear him shrug. “Friday. The recruiter said I’d get a letter on Friday. I hate this waiting.”
“You’re gonna get in. Your times are so good and grades too. You’ll get in,” she reassured him for the hundredth time.
“Not why I called Dana,” he sounded vaguely nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong exactly. Dana, um, I want to, uh, ask you something.”
“Yeah? What?” She was scrambling to figure out what he could possibly be nervous about.
“I know you think it is sort of silly but it’s our last chance,” he was stumbling to get it out.
“Scott, what are you talking about? Last chance for what?”
“It’s just that I’m worried, uh, that you don’t, uh, want to go and I do and …”
“Go where Scott?”
Then the words rushed out and his voice cracked as he asked, “Will you be my date to Prom?”
“Oh Scott.” She bounced on her toes and levitated the flower vase above the table. “Yes. Yes.” She spun around.
“Awesome.”
Then the reality of Prom struck her.
“I need a dress.”