I woke up Friday morning to the sound of the phone ringing.
"I got it!" Dad yelled, stomping his way to the home phone in the kitchen.
I rolled out of bed, yawning as I made my way down the stairs.
I grabbed a mug and filled it full with coffee then sat down next to Sammy at the kitchen table.
"Morning," Sam greeted when I sat down.
"Whatever," I grumbled, taking a long gulp of my coffee.
"Still not a morning person, huh Dean?" Sam asked, closing the text book he was studying from.
"Say another word and I might stab you," I threatened, narrowing my eyes.
Sam just rolled his eyes, laughing at my pointless threats.
Dad came around the corner, the home phone held to his ear by his shoulder.
"Yes, I understand that we have to make 65 delivers today," he said, flipping through the stack papers in his arms.
I glanced over at Sam.
"Who's on the phone?" I mouthed.
"Work," he mouthed back, shrugging.
"I can make all the orders, sir." Dad said into the phone. "Yes, I know, but I can-- Yes. Okay." He hung up the phone, throwing it onto the table between us.
"What are you two looking at?" He grumbled, glaring at us.
"Work troubles?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Why the hell do you care?" Dad snapped, grabbing his coat off the chair.
"I'll be back later," he muttered, turning to leave. "Dinners in the freezer."
He slammed the front door on the way out, causing Sam and I to wince.
I toke another sip of my coffee glancing at Sam. He had a serious, but hurt expression on his face.
"Hey," I said, gently hitting his shoulder. "He's just having a bad morning. He didn't mean to snap at you like that."
Sam shook his head, standing up from the table.
"Just like how he doesn't mean to snap at me every time he talks to me? Which is like what, once a week?" He said, hurt in his voice.
"Sammy, he's doing the best he can. Can't you give him a break?" I asked, trying to defend my old man. "He means well."
"Give him a break?" He asked, raising his voice. "He is our father, maybe he should start acting like one! You don't get any 'breaks' when you're a parent!"
"He keeps a roof over our heads and food in our mouths, how is that not being a father?" I demanded, feeling frustrated with how Sam is talking about him.
"He is never here! I can't even remember the last time I sat down and had a conversation with the guy! You've been more of a father than he's ever been!" Sam yelled, his eyes filled with disgust.
"Then let's keep it that way!" I yelled back, standing up from the table. "If he can't be here then I will. I'm here for you, okay Sam? He is doing his best and I am doing mine, let's just leave it at that."
I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. "Listen," I said, lowering my voice. "Dad is still dealing with moms death, alright? Just let him deal with it. He may be running around and leaving you in the dark, but I am sure the hell not. Okay?"
I see his jaw tighten, looking away from my gaze.
"Okay." He said quietly, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Let's go, or we're going to be late," he mumbled, walking out the front door and slamming it behind him.
I shook my head, grabbing my bag before walking to the front door.
I'm knee deep in every kind of mess there is.
But I guess that's just what life is.
YOU ARE READING
The Angel Next Door
Fanfiction17 year old Dean Winchester moves into a new town, like he and his family does every year. Sam Winchester, Dean's little brother and their Father, John Winchester, is all that consists of their small broken family. But when Dean is faced with new...
