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Dean was exhausted. He’d picked up Emma from her sitter, Missouri, but now he needed to hit the grocery store so they had something–make that anything –for dinner. If he’d still been living the single bachelor life, he’d probably have grabbed a box of pizza pockets and left the shopping for another day. But those days were three years behind him. Then again, before he had Emma, he was never this tired. She was teething, which of course meant a fever and a very cranky little girl who slept horribly. Dean had been up with her nearly all night, then got her to Missouri’s and made his way to the high school where he taught Advanced English Writing to Juniors, and English Literature to Seniors. Today hadn’t been one of his better days with his students. He’d had to intervene in a fistfight that had been brewing in the hallway, the photocopier had exploded on his slacks, and then a port on his laptop died and he had to jury-rig a solution. At least that happened during his best friend’s free period, so he’d simply texted an S-O-S to Charlie and she’d come to the rescue. Better yet, she’d brought coffee. He nominated her for sainthood on the spot. Dean glanced in the rearview, where Emma sat kicking her feet and rocking out to Thunderstruck, and had to grin. He wouldn’t trade his life for anything. Pulling into the store parking lot, he scooped her out of her carseat and carried her to the store, setting her into a cart and buckling her in. He’d discovered the hard way not to put her down between the car and the cart, because once she had that taste of freedom she’d lose her mind if he tried to put her in the cart. “Hey, Baby-girl,” he said, giving her a grin. “Should we have spaghetti and meatballs tonight?” She grinned up at him with her big, blue eyes and nodded, giving an ear-piercing, happy shriek. “PASKETTI!” Dean winced a little, even as he ruffled her hair. He steered the cart into the store and quickly made his way through the aisles, picking up what he needed for dinner, as well as a few essentials. He was nearly to the checkouts when he realised they were out of milk. Groaning softly to himself, he checked his blind spot then spun the cart quickly, making Emma shriek with laughter. He was chuckling softly when he heard someone muttering to his left. Glancing over, he met the eyes of an angry-looking, sixty-something year old woman who had her lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line. He immediately regretted making eye contact. She had that kinda vibe. Normally, Dean would’ve just ignored her, but today he was just too tired to censor his words. “Got a problem?” he asked. The woman gave him a quick up and down, sneering at his oil-stained jeans–the only clean ones after his incident with the printer at the end of the day–and then her eyes caught on the enamel pin on his shirt. A pair of fingerguns in the bisexual pride flag. “I doubt her mother approves of you bringing her out dressed like that, flaunting your perverted choices, and endangering the child by throwing her around in the cart so recklessly!” Dean counted to ten in his head.
One… Two… Thr–
“Okay, listen here,” he growled. What the hell. Wasn’t like he taught math. “First of all, my daughter and my clothes are none of your goddamn business. If you really wanna know what her mom thinks, you’d have to find her, since she took off years ago, and I’ve been raising my daughter since, and we’re doin’ just fine. As for my perverted choices–” He let himself smirk. “–lady, you got no idea.” She gasped, and Dean swore if she’d been wearing pearls she’d have clutched them, but he simply stalked past her, heading for the dairy section to collect milk. As an afterthought he added a pint of frozen yogurt. They deserved a treat today. By the time they got back to the front of the store, Emma was rubbing at her eyes a little, and Dean groaned. If she fell asleep in the car on the way home, he’d have a nightmare of a time getting her to bed in a few hours. He was considering candy as the worst sort of bribery to keep her awake, when he heard a strident voice behind him. “That’s him! He made a disgusting sexual comment to me, and I want you to ban him immediately!” Turning, already fuming, he found the Karen standing there with a harried-looking older black man–a manager, Dean guessed–who looked like he wanted to be doing anything other than dealing with the woman in question. “Excuse me,” came a deep voice, and Dean glanced over to meet a shockingly blue pair of eyes. His breath caught as he took in the man’s features. Strong, sharp jaw, lightly cleft chin, dark stubble across his face, pink lips that gave Dean ideas that really weren’t cool to be having in front of his three-and-a-half year old. He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt that said "I'm so fruity" in rainbow letters, and Dean snorted a laugh. The man continued. “I saw the incident in question. She accosted him, insulted his clothing, parenting, and sexual orientation. He told her to mind her own business and walked away.” “What?!” the woman shrieked, clearly appalled at being called out in her lies. “I did not! In fact, that second man threatened me!” Dean rolled his eyes as the woman continued her tirade, and the manager clearly had had enough. “Alright, listen, Betty. I had about enough of you harassing other customers who're just tryin' to buy dinner for their families. You've been warned before. Leave your cart, Ash will unload it. Get out of my store." "This–This is discrimination!" Betty sputtered. "It's because I’m Christian! Good, God-fearing people shouldn't have to see that kind of display in public!" Dean was about to make a sharp retort, probably not a good call, when Emma started to cry, frightened by all the shouting. Dean immediately turned to her and quickly unbuckled her. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms–her head against his shoulder as he swayed–and glared daggers at the woman. "Go 'head and check the security feed, Rufus," the bystander suggested. "You'll see what happened." Rufus shook his head and pointed to the front of the store. "Don't need to. Betty, out! Or do I have to call Sheriff Mills?" Betty drew herself to her full height–short–and glared at Rufus. "You can't just kick me out, I have nowhere else to shop!" "You can go to the Publix across town. Let Crowley deal with you," Rufus suggested. "And Betty, don't think I don't know you've been using your mother's handicapped sticker to park, even when she isn't with you." The woman turned and stomped out of the store, already holding her cell phone to her ear. Dean sighed and nodded his thanks to the manager, but was still preoccupied swaying Emma, whose cries had only increased. "Okay, Baby-girl. Daddy's gotcha, you're okay," he murmured, petting her hair gently. He glanced at the other guy and gave him a half smile. "Thanks, buddy." The man smiled softly and got in line, and Dean continued to rock Emma for another minute. The manager, Rufus, asked if he needed anything, and at Dean’s headshake, he wandered off. Dean grabbed his cart one-handed, steering it towards the checkout with a sigh. What a day. As he finished unloading his cart, Emma's head came up, and her eyes locked onto the display of candy bars. "Daddy! Choc'lit, pwease?" she asked, her blue eyes teary and pleading. Normally, Dean wasn't a complete pushover, but they'd had a rough day, and he grabbed a box of Raisinets for her. He blamed Sammy for corrupting her into liking those. Looking over the shelf, he spotted what he was looking for. Deciding to give her something to do, Dean crouched down and pointed. "Can you grab Daddy's favourite, Baby-girl?" he asked, and she immediately reached for the bright orange package with the yellow lettering in front of her. As he straightened with her in his arms, she gave him a huge grin. “Thank you! Such a big help!” Emma’s eyes focused over Dean’s shoulder and she proudly held up the candy. Just as Dean turned and met another pair of blue eyes, those blue eyes, Emma yelled happily in his ear.
“MY DADDY LOVES TO EAT REESE’S PENIS!” she shouted, waving the candy in the air, and Dean felt his face heat so fast he thought he might be on fire. Before he could say a word, the man who’d stuck up for him laughed, his plush lips curving in a wide, gummy grin as his head went back with a shout of laughter. When he looked at Dean again, his eyes dropped briefly to Dean’s pin, then he met Dean’s eyes again. His smile was warm, and just a little naughty. “Lucky Reese,” he teased, and Dean’s mouth dropped open in shock as the guy winked at him. His cheeks burned even hotter, and he tried desperately to form a response. The man looked down at Emma, and his smile turned soft and sweet. “But I think those are called Reese’s Pieces, sweetie.” She nodded happily in agreement. “Reese’s Penis!” she announced again, and Dean dropped his forehead against her hair. “Emma, Baby-girl, we gotta work on your words. Pasketti is fine to say wrong. That one is not.” “Pasketti’s good stuff. So’s the other,” the guy in front of them chuckled, his eyes shining with laughter at Dean. His laugh was a low, raspy sound that burrowed right into Dean’s brain and gut. Next thing Dean knew, his mouth was moving before he could stop himself, for the second time since they’d hit the store. “You could join us?” The guy’s eyebrows winged up and Dean instantly wanted to sink into the floor. “For pasketti! Spaghetti!” For the first time, Dean saw a trace of shyness cross the guy’s face, and Dean grinned even as he switched Emma over to his other arm. Pulling his phone, he waggled it at the guy, who bit his lip in consideration, then nodded, a small, bashful smile curving his lips as he took Dean’s phone. “I’d like that,” he said, punching in his number and sending himself a text. “But I have dinner plans with my sister tonight. Raincheck?” He was looking at Dean so hopefully, and Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds good. House is a mess anyway.” The cashier cleared his throat, and the guy Dean had just invited for dinner–without even knowing his name!–turned to see his groceries rung through and bagged. He turned and handed Dean his phone back, and Dean glanced at it. Cas Novak, the new contact read. The text he’d sent himself simply said “Dinner?” and as Dean watched, a reply popped up. I’d love to. Glancing up at Cas, he was treated to another of those gummy smiles, and Dean felt his heart flutter in his chest. He pocketed his phone and hoisted Emma a little higher on his hip, and waited until Cas was done with the cashier. As he picked up his bags, Dean called after him. “Cas!” The gorgeous man turned, his cheeks a little pink, and Dean gave his own wink, watching as Cas blushed this time. “M’name’s Dean, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Dean,” Cas said with a smile. And just to further convince Dean he was perfect, the guy winked at Emma playfully. “Nice to meet you, too, Emma.” She shyly hid her face against Dean’s neck, but he could tell she was peeking out at Cas. Looked like she was just as enamoured as he was. As the cashier rang through his own groceries, Dean mused that maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.