Her, To Home

Chapter#22

"Mr Woodland would see you now."

He raised his head and nodded. Standing up, he followed the young sectary in unhurried and unwilling steps. The file in his hand was clutched tightly and his face wasn't as blank as he wanted it to be, the frost of his inner anger, frustration and fear, all were as clear as day. He almost wished that O'Brian was there with him but the thought left as soon as it came. He didn't want her to see him this week, didn't wanted himself to be so weak but his relation with his father had always been like that. Growing up, he always was simply his son in name. He didn't have any memories of his father ever simply talking to him. It was either him scolding him or just staring down at him like he was a disappointment.

At that time, he didn't understand and he still didn't. He wasn't a bad student; he wasn't great but he was above average which could become good if he worked harder which also happened occasionally. He didn't lack in strength, didn't do anything out of context but yet his father's dissatisfaction with him had no end. Later when it was rumored that he wasn't his son, it felt more like that his father was simply waiting for the last landmine for him to step on to kick him out of the family rather than feeling the actual anger of betrayal.

He knew his father never believed for a second that he wasn't his son. If his mother actually had guts to cheat on his father, he wouldn't have been so miserable. He still sometimes wondered why his father wasn't happy with him but he wanted to stop already. He didn't want to think about these things, didn't wanted to waste his time and emotions on answers he would never get. He wanted to concentrate on O'Brian with his all his attention. He wanted to build a different home with her, wanted to live a better life with her.

He paused his steps when the sectary did. They were waiting outside a large door when it was opened from inside by another woman. She let him enter alone and stepped out, closing the door behind. He wasn't in a hurry to look at his father but simply walked closer and took a seat.

"I didn't say you could sit." His father's silently heavy voice drawled out.

Dean raised his head and looked at the man which he admits, didn't look much like him. His pale blonde hair was fading and Dean was glad that he wasn't born with blonde hair. He has heard storied about how their fading hairline start quiet earlier then people with darker hair. He had grown older since he had last seen him but there was still an air of arrogance around him like the whole world owned him but somehow Dean felt the fear leave his bones like air just passing by. He wasn't intimated by the old man.

The man was also staring deeply at him with a gaze which wasn't losing his cool.

"I don't need your permission to do anything. I don't work for you." Dean replied coldly but while looking him in the eye.

His father frowned but didn't argue as he leaned back and said, "Your mother is expecting again."

"Oh, and this time you believe the father is the butler?" Dean smiled.

The frost in his father's eyes turned icier and leaned forward and spit out, "Are you mocking me? It seems you really are that woman's son."

"Mocking you? I won't dare Mr Woodland. But considering that my mother never steps out of the house, the butler seems to be the obvious father of the child or are you implying that the child is yours? That doesn't seem very likely because your probably don't even remember who was the last women you slept with."

His father stood up and smacked his hand on the table, his flared eyes were burning in anger as he shouted, "Shut up! How dare you talk to me like that?"

Dean stopped smiling and also stood up, his expressions turned cold as leaning down on the table with his hands and he asked softly, "Why wouldn't I dare to speak like that? Are you someone I should be afraid of?"