( He can count on one hand, he thinks, the number of times in his life he's ever felt like a successful mentor. They're few and far between, those memories of having done something like this right. His mind goes to a field at night, lifetimes ago, with a lighter in his pocket and fireworks shooting up into the sky for only two sets of eyes.
Maybe one day he'll get a moment like that with Steve, and he'll feel sure of whatever the hell he's doing here. Until then, it's just the struggling uncertainty paired with the stubborn, defiant refusal to let it stop him from trying. As long as the kid keeps turning up, he's gotta be doing something right. He'll hold faith in that. It's gonna have to be enough. Besides, he doesn't see anybody better stepping up to the plate.
He could do worse, he knows — and this, this conversation? Is a prime example. His own father would've torn him to shreds over this. If he flashed those features at John Winchester... Christ, he doesn't even wanna think about it.
But even aside from the inhuman nature of it all (he's got six wings and an extra arm, Geralt's been spitting venom since right after they met, the time of xenophobia has long passed) if John Winchester found out Dean hid something like that from him? Regardless of the reason — insecurity, shame, fear — he wouldn't have been able to walk right for a week. Here, he has the opportunity to do better than what was done to him, and so rather than reacting immediately, he takes a second. Lets it sit. Lets himself wade through it, to figure out how he wants to react.
It starts with a slow, careful nod. )
Okay.
( Alright. He's... digesting, as he paces across the kitchen and settles in with his back against the countertops. )
Okay- well. We can- work on that.
( Which does not come out quite as confidently as maybe he'd like, but the spirit's there, anyway. Does he know how, exactly, they'll figure it out? No, but... you know what, they will. Somehow. )
[ which may be part of the reasons this has worked as well as it has with him and steve. because while dean worries about his success rate with mentorship, steve wouldn't know the difference. he can count on a single hand the number of adults he's ever looked up to, and that number cuts in half when he thinks about the ones who gave a shit about him back. there might have been more, once upon a time, back when steve cared to hold onto ideas and images of people he hasn't seen or even thought about in years, decades. but now?
now, steve feels a little bit like he's the one failing this. failing dean. he doesn't know why, but there's something he's missed. something he didn't do, or think about. is dean mad that he hadn't mentioned the abilities before now? is dean upset that steve kept it from him? but...why?
it tends to sneak up on him, the surprise that someone he isn't dating would give that much of a shit about what he does. what's happening to him. or- rather, give any shit at all about him. and while part of him knows that dean isn't pissed at him, exactly, he does think that he...missed something. forgot something. okay dean says, and it's slow. accompanied by a nod. steve comes to a stop right inside the kitchen and his bones remember things that he doesn't, a familiar sense of walking into a kitchen and knowing that you've disappointed your dad. ]
Did I do something wrong?
[ he asks, equally slow. eyes slanted up towards dean in preparation for... something. something? god, he's not a child and yet somehow he doesn't feel any older at all. ]
I just- I wanted to show you when I was good at it. When I could actually- [ he gestures. it's not like new magic, new abilities are anything new to them. but maybe this time it's different. maybe whatever happened- the teeth, the eyes, the senses, the...everything. maybe steve was wrong (it's not like that would be a first) and maybe he should have said something a long time ago.
he sighs a little, deflates, and shakes his head - his hair falling around his shoulders, now. ]
( Boy, does he ever feel bowled over by that one simple question. Did I do something wrong? It's a heartbreaking and familiar feeling, and now that he's on the other side of it, he doesn't understand how in the hell his own father managed to be so ruthless with his disappointment. He weaponized it like a damn gun, fired rounds of loaded judgment straight into Dean's chest damn near every opportunity he got.
Looking at Steve now, he can't imagine intentionally inflicting that same kind of pain on the kid. He can't imagine wounding on purpose, when Steve's so obviously just trying to do things right.
He swallows down his frustration — at himself, at his father, at Geralt, at this situation. Does his best to muscle it out of his posture and his voice when he speaks again. )
No, I know, I saw. It was... somethin'. Looks like it could come in handy. Just-
( Go easy. Find a mild way to put this. )
When something new like that crops up, do me a favor and keep me posted, huh? I just don't wanna have to learn about stuff like that on the fly, you know what I mean? I give a crap about you, and about the stuff you're going through, so I like to stay in the loop. That's all.
[ steve doesn't know what that's like- his father had been disappointed in him plenty, but weaponization, reflection, steve never had a chance to get used to that. instead, it was a casual glance, a comment made at the dinner table in front of their friends, an uninterested grunt in a conversation. it was a lot of that's nice and then some conversation-turned-argument with his mom about another work trip, another conference, and that had been that.
the question was one steve got used to, if only in some half-hearted attempt to get something out of his old man. anger, annoyance, even a raised voice would have been better than the dismissal he'd grown so used to.
it's part of why steve isn't exactly sure he breathes in the half-second dean takes to answer him, waiting for some kind of drop, some kind of weight to fall over him to remind him that he fucked up. but as dean talks, steve relaxes, if only marginally.
I give a crap about you which may not be the most emotionally sound or comforting sentence to most people, but it cuts through... a lot for steve. so much that he finds he can't keep watching dean, his eyes drifting to the countertop, to the glasses strewn around the room. ]
Yeah, no, definitely. I'm- [ but this requires better than steve's natural avoidance to these kinds of situations, so he forces his eyes back to dean. ] Sorry. I get it. I will. [ he smiles - even if it's hesitant. ]
( Good job, Steve — it's the right answer, and it earns immediate and visible approval in the form of a wide smile and an outstretched hand. He cuffs Steve gently on the back of his head, gives him a little jostle by the scruff at the nape of his neck. Light, playful, affectionate. )
Good.
( Because tactile messaging is easier than words, half the time. At least, it is for Dean, who punctuates it all with one last clap on the back to signal the end of the Talk. )
Let's get a drink, and you can show me what you can do with all that, huh?
( And they can focus on something other than Geralt for a little while. Change the subject, change the setting, change the scene. Make it feel less important, less precarious. He'll deal with all that himself, later.
The two of them recede deeper into the house, and things get... better.
This will be one of the memories he retains with crystal clarity, long after this universe has faded. )
[ dean beams, and cuffs Steve on the back of the head and a jostle by the nape of his neck, and Steve- god. it's actually kind of pathetic, how the second, maybe two, fills inside his chest. it feels like such a change from where they'd been just moments before, or even minutes, out on the snow with geralt, but there's no point in Steve trying to act like it isn't where he'd hoped to be.
where he always hopes to be, if he's being pathetically honest with himself.
he's an adult, is the thing. he's older than most adults in actual years thanks to the magic of abraxas and what it has meant since they're all living here. he shouldn't be this dependent- or, maybe dependent isn't the right word. maybe it's desperate, maybe it's hopeful, maybe it's...eh. doesn't matter.
dean says good, and Steve just huffs a laugh, has to physically hold back the way he wants to break out into a near-matching grin of his own. dean claps Steve on the back, mentions getting a drink and showing off, and Steve nods. follows him back into the house like this is the most normal, casual, regular conversation for them to have. like the day hadn't shaken Steve to his core, because dean has pretty effectively straightened it all back up again. ]
Yeah, yeah. But don't get your hopes up- still figuring this out, remember?
[ the rest of the evening follows. the rest of this time together follows.
and dean isn't the only one who will remember it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Maybe one day he'll get a moment like that with Steve, and he'll feel sure of whatever the hell he's doing here. Until then, it's just the struggling uncertainty paired with the stubborn, defiant refusal to let it stop him from trying. As long as the kid keeps turning up, he's gotta be doing something right. He'll hold faith in that. It's gonna have to be enough. Besides, he doesn't see anybody better stepping up to the plate.
He could do worse, he knows — and this, this conversation? Is a prime example. His own father would've torn him to shreds over this. If he flashed those features at John Winchester... Christ, he doesn't even wanna think about it.
But even aside from the inhuman nature of it all (he's got six wings and an extra arm, Geralt's been spitting venom since right after they met, the time of xenophobia has long passed) if John Winchester found out Dean hid something like that from him? Regardless of the reason — insecurity, shame, fear — he wouldn't have been able to walk right for a week. Here, he has the opportunity to do better than what was done to him, and so rather than reacting immediately, he takes a second. Lets it sit. Lets himself wade through it, to figure out how he wants to react.
It starts with a slow, careful nod. )
Okay.
( Alright. He's... digesting, as he paces across the kitchen and settles in with his back against the countertops. )
Okay- well. We can- work on that.
( Which does not come out quite as confidently as maybe he'd like, but the spirit's there, anyway. Does he know how, exactly, they'll figure it out? No, but... you know what, they will. Somehow. )
no subject
now, steve feels a little bit like he's the one failing this. failing dean. he doesn't know why, but there's something he's missed. something he didn't do, or think about. is dean mad that he hadn't mentioned the abilities before now? is dean upset that steve kept it from him? but...why?
it tends to sneak up on him, the surprise that someone he isn't dating would give that much of a shit about what he does. what's happening to him. or- rather, give any shit at all about him. and while part of him knows that dean isn't pissed at him, exactly, he does think that he...missed something. forgot something. okay dean says, and it's slow. accompanied by a nod. steve comes to a stop right inside the kitchen and his bones remember things that he doesn't, a familiar sense of walking into a kitchen and knowing that you've disappointed your dad. ]
Did I do something wrong?
[ he asks, equally slow. eyes slanted up towards dean in preparation for... something. something? god, he's not a child and yet somehow he doesn't feel any older at all. ]
I just- I wanted to show you when I was good at it. When I could actually- [ he gestures. it's not like new magic, new abilities are anything new to them. but maybe this time it's different. maybe whatever happened- the teeth, the eyes, the senses, the...everything. maybe steve was wrong (it's not like that would be a first) and maybe he should have said something a long time ago.
he sighs a little, deflates, and shakes his head - his hair falling around his shoulders, now. ]
Well. You saw it.
no subject
Looking at Steve now, he can't imagine intentionally inflicting that same kind of pain on the kid. He can't imagine wounding on purpose, when Steve's so obviously just trying to do things right.
He swallows down his frustration — at himself, at his father, at Geralt, at this situation. Does his best to muscle it out of his posture and his voice when he speaks again. )
No, I know, I saw. It was... somethin'. Looks like it could come in handy. Just-
( Go easy. Find a mild way to put this. )
When something new like that crops up, do me a favor and keep me posted, huh? I just don't wanna have to learn about stuff like that on the fly, you know what I mean? I give a crap about you, and about the stuff you're going through, so I like to stay in the loop. That's all.
no subject
the question was one steve got used to, if only in some half-hearted attempt to get something out of his old man. anger, annoyance, even a raised voice would have been better than the dismissal he'd grown so used to.
it's part of why steve isn't exactly sure he breathes in the half-second dean takes to answer him, waiting for some kind of drop, some kind of weight to fall over him to remind him that he fucked up. but as dean talks, steve relaxes, if only marginally.
I give a crap about you which may not be the most emotionally sound or comforting sentence to most people, but it cuts through... a lot for steve. so much that he finds he can't keep watching dean, his eyes drifting to the countertop, to the glasses strewn around the room. ]
Yeah, no, definitely. I'm- [ but this requires better than steve's natural avoidance to these kinds of situations, so he forces his eyes back to dean. ] Sorry. I get it. I will. [ he smiles - even if it's hesitant. ]
Promise.
wrap it here, i think??
Good.
( Because tactile messaging is easier than words, half the time. At least, it is for Dean, who punctuates it all with one last clap on the back to signal the end of the Talk. )
Let's get a drink, and you can show me what you can do with all that, huh?
( And they can focus on something other than Geralt for a little while. Change the subject, change the setting, change the scene. Make it feel less important, less precarious. He'll deal with all that himself, later.
The two of them recede deeper into the house, and things get... better.
This will be one of the memories he retains with crystal clarity, long after this universe has faded. )
ties this off with a bow
where he always hopes to be, if he's being pathetically honest with himself.
he's an adult, is the thing. he's older than most adults in actual years thanks to the magic of abraxas and what it has meant since they're all living here. he shouldn't be this dependent- or, maybe dependent isn't the right word. maybe it's desperate, maybe it's hopeful, maybe it's...eh. doesn't matter.
dean says good, and Steve just huffs a laugh, has to physically hold back the way he wants to break out into a near-matching grin of his own. dean claps Steve on the back, mentions getting a drink and showing off, and Steve nods. follows him back into the house like this is the most normal, casual, regular conversation for them to have. like the day hadn't shaken Steve to his core, because dean has pretty effectively straightened it all back up again. ]
Yeah, yeah. But don't get your hopes up- still figuring this out, remember?
[ the rest of the evening follows. the rest of this time together follows.
and dean isn't the only one who will remember it. ]