Also: Minor Tremors parts One & Two
accompaniment(s) to: With a Bang
Rating: SPN/DA Crossover - PG - Gen – AU in the year 2020
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & DA & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Dean POV. Alec and Dean crash the same church potluck and are forced to come out of their respective closets.
Despite all the odds, it happened.
Dean didn’t know what deity he might have pissed off but there was only one explanation for the current circumstances. Although he supposed he should have counted himself lucky that it’d taken Alec this long to discover the beauty of potluck Saturdays. A churchyard filled with picnic tables covered in BBQ and pie were hard to keep a secret.
And all you had to do was survive the church part first.
“Don’t sit next to me,” Alec hissed. “It looks weird.”
“It'd be weirder if I didn’t.”
“I was here first.”
“I got you beat by a few years, pal.”
"Fine," Alec slouched down in the pew and opened a hymnbook. “But people are looking.”
“So smile. You’re the new local attraction.”
The kid tried turning sideways.
“Besides,” Dean sighed. “They’re lookin’ at me too.”
“Yeah,” Alec snorted. “You’re the chump living with someone else's baby.”
“Hey, I’m a picture of support and freakin’ acceptance.”
“Actually I have it on good authority that most people around here think you’re kinda whipped—“
The sermon was as great as a rambling anecdote concerning the state of morality could possibly be. Dean let his mind wander until the congregation eventually began to stir back to life and collect their things. But nothing was as sweet as the sound of Sammy’s industrial sized bible slamming closed. Well, nothing besides the sound of tin foil and Tupperware.
He woke up Alec.
“This is gonna be brutal,” Dean told him. “You sure you wanna go through with this?”
“We eat and then we run,” Alec yawned. “How bad could it be?”
Dean was surprised they even had time to stand up before the first barrage hit. He’d had his money on the widow with all the cats, but the soccer mom with all the kids got there first.
“Good morning!” she said. “So! This must be the Alex everyone is talking about?”
“It’s with a C,” Dean corrected her. “Not an X.”
“Well, Alec, it sure is nice to have you with us here in our little town,” she stood closer and dropped the pretense. “And you are how old exactly? About 20, 19, 18?”
“I’m 21,” Alec ducked around her and headed towards the door. “I’ve never seen lasagna in daylight before. Awesome.”
Dean followed behind them and attempted to ignore everyone else in the parish trying to do the same thing.
“Oh, 21, that’s wonderful!” she quickly handed Alec a paper plate. “And your father is what... 40, 39, 38?”
“Sam’s 37.” Alec provided.
“I know, right?” Alec sniffed at spoonful of ambrosia salad. “I was a huge mistake.”
Dean returned her look with what he hoped was a smile of peace, love and lots of understanding.
“I see,” she cleared her throat. “S-So where-how-what does your mother—“
“But what a great mistake, huh?” Dean slapped Alec on the back. “Can’t imagine life without him!”
Dean resisted the urge to step backwards when she suddenly gripped his hands with both of hers. Too overcome to speak just yet, she just kept nodding. “We are all looking forward to June,” she managed. “I’ll be bringing a cold appetizer and all the napkins.”
“That’s super, thank you.”
“Hey Dean, take a look at this! Someone took hardboiled eggs apart and then put them back together again— hey!”
Alec’s indignant yelp of surprise made all of the pleasant conversation buzzing around the churchyard pause. Dean turned around to see him trying to wipe a messy helping of baked ziti off the front of his shirt.
“Did you see that?” Alec asked in a low voice. “I-I think that was on purpose.”
Dean caught several glares from the aproned young women with serving spoons standing behind the tables. If he wasn't mistaken, Alec had gone through every single one of them over the span of the last month. Dean checked out the biceps on the blond that had chucked the hot pasta.
“Didn’t you take that one to a tractor pull last week?”
“Not sure,” Alec licked his hand. “All these white chicks start looking the same after a while.”
Dean backed up when a large serving of Jell-O was heaved in the general direction of Alec’s plate. Grabbing a plastic fork, Dean decided to start with the fried foods before cruising the casseroles. The end of the line was always a big bowl of fruit punch and a cold keg of Bud. Say what you would about the God fearing folk of Blue Earth, but they sure knew how to rock it before noon.
“Drinks here!” another girl greeted them. “You both look real thirsty!”
Gratefully taking a frosty glass, Dean winced when she released Alec's cup a half-second too early. The kid warily put some distance between himself and the food line, his plate fizzing with a puddle of beer.
“I think those girls are mad at me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
"I figured it wouldn't be fair to only call some of them back, right?" Alec explained. "This way everyone is totally even."
The crowd's chatter rose and fell when Sam finally emerged from the church.
"Like anyone calls anyone back anyway," Alec snagged a few unattended chicken legs. “Who has that kinda time on their hands?”
Dean spotted a seat in the shade. But before he could get there he was stopped with a hard squeeze on the shoulder. Expecting an angry mother, he was pleasantly surprised to be looking down at the old man who ran the local sod farm instead. "Hey George, how are you doin'--"
"My first son ain't mine either," he whispered in Dean's ear. “My Margie cheated on me when I was overseas fightin’ in Vietnam.”
“I know it’s hard,” he looked meaningfully over at Sam. “But you gotta work these things out.”
The man hobbled off when Alec arrived with the entire cheese platter.
“Put that back.”
“No way,” Alec said. “It’s mine.”
Dean spotted the contents of an emptied ashtray decorating the cubed cheddar at the same time the kid did.
“You wanna know something?” Alec tossed the tray sideways into a trash bin. “For a microscopic community with a strong religious base, these people are pretty closed minded.”
Dean pushed his food around and frowned at the festive design on the disposal plate. Instead of the usual ambiguous beige, everything on the table was sporting a troubling collage of brightly inked rainbows.
“Yeah,” he snapped his fork. “Real tough crowd.”
go to part 12