ohnofeelings | ;don't tell mom the babysitter's dead

[Emma tilts her head back, giving her an upside-down view of Grace's face and somehow managing to avoid getting a mouthful of her daughter's hair in the process. That was a narrow miss. She smiled and marked her place in her book by turning the corner of the page down, setting it on the cushion beside her.]

Sure thing, kiddo. Just let me grab my keys.

[She stretches as she pushes herself off the sofa, reaching to snatch her keys up from where they had been haphazardly thrown on one of the end tables.]

Any idea how late you're going to be out tonight? You know your dad worries.

[She does, too, but tough-as-nails sheriffs don't get sappy, right?]

[As soon as Emma stood, Grace straightened herself and headed to the front door. Normally she wasn't impatient, but when she was, it was something like this.]

I don't know, maybe until midnight or sometime after? They said they had a job, which means they'll be back anywhere between four and eight hours after I get there.

[That was somewhat of an exaggeration. Only a little, though.]

Papa needn't worry. That place is more secure than Fort Knox. You know there's a panic room in the basement, right? Mister Dean's uncle, I think, helped him build it.

[A job. Right. That often seemed to be the reasoning Emma heard from them. While she didn't doubt that now and then, they might have had a legitimate job to do -- she knew that Anita went out late pretty routinely to meet with clients for her weird zombie business -- she was pretty much under the impression that neither one of them could admit they just needed a date night.

Seriously, at this point, what was there left to hunt?]

Is Dean giving you a lift home, or do you want me to come and get you? Either way, you know I'll be up until you walk back through that door if you need anything.

[Okay, yes, there was a panic room and she knew that Dean had gone to great lengths, after checking with both Emma and her husband, to make sure that Grace was safe while staying with Sammy. Emma had been the one to swing the vote towards 'yes' on letting Grace learn to shoot. She was a smart girl. Responsible. She felt a little better knowing that Grace not only had a means of defending herself should anything happen, but also that she knew how to do so safely.

Of course, every sitting job she'd ever taken had been incredibly routine, but both of the Winchesters seemed to be paranoid about certain things. Things that even Emma, after all of her adventures in dragonslaying and world-hopping, couldn't help being a little skeptical of.

She wouldn't even have believed the zombie thing if she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes.]

You know you can tell him not to worry all you want, but that's not going to stop him.

[Very few things could, when it came to Grace, to be honest.]

Anyway, we know you'll be fine. You always are. That doesn't stop parents from being parents, though.

He'll probably give me a ride back unless something comes up, but I'll text you either way.

[She hoped nothing came up, because that was just asking for trouble. That was simply what she could deduce from the security measures Dean and Anita went through. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume they were crazy. But they seemed relatively sane. They just worried about things far too much. What could be so bad that would require all the precautions they took? She'd seen their pantry. They had more salt stored than any supermarket she'd ever been to.

At least, if it ever came down to it, she knew how to handle a handgun decently. She didn't even get an opportunity to forget; Dean had her do drills of loading and unloading, cocking, and switching the safety on and off every time she went over there.]

Neither of you should stay up late waiting on me or worrying. You'll get bags under your eyes and grey hair [She offers a grin.] And that's not attractive at all.

[There was nothing wrong with poking meaningless fun every now and then, but she was partially serious. She did understand worrying and she understood why Emma chose to stay up the entire time, but sleep was important too! She usually ended up falling asleep on the couch at some point before Dean and Anita got home anyway.]

Hey, how old do you think I am?

[Emma grins at her as she pulls the front door open, ushering Grace through it and steering her towards her trusty yellow beetle. Not that Grace needed much encouragement, seeing as how seriously she took things like punctuality.

She was glad, though, that Grace was so comfortable with teasing her. It was nice -- she was glad that Grace had never seemed to consider her some kind of wicked stepmother who was just there to steal her father's attention away. She'd heard horror stories about those. Not surprising, considering the sorts of people that had made up the citizenship of Storybrooke.]

I'll doze if I get tired, but I'd rather keep an ear out. That's all.

[She'd been late to start in on the parenting game. It was a matter of pride, now, that she stick to her guns and play it as well as she possibly could.]

[Grace took one look at Emma and raised her eyebrows in a manner that made her eyes widen too.]

Well, you are getting up there in years, aren't you?

[With that, Grace walked out of the house and headed to the car. She didn't even wait for Emma before opening the door and situating herself in the front passenger's seat. Seatbelt buckled, book bag on the floorboard, purse in lap. Safety first and so on.

It was needless to say that if anyone had to marry her father, Grace was glad it was Emma. She'd quickly become the mother Grace didn't remember having. That was, at least, as Grace. Her life as Paige was only five or six years ago, but by now it was more like a dream and Grace was completely content with the way things were now. As far as she was concerned, her life was perfect. Two parents, one brother, so many bunnies--what more could she possibly want?

She waited for Emma to join her in the car before she spoke again.]

You know, alternatively, if I had my own car, this wouldn't even be necessary. You could sleep soundly and save gas.

Edited 2013-02-17 07:15 (UTC)

[The problem with having two teenagers who were roughly the same age was that the car conversation always came up. If it wasn't one, it was the other. Emma raises both eyebrows at her as she gets herself situated, then glances back over her shoulder as she proceeds to pull the car out of the driveway.]

You and Henry and cars. I mean, sure, I had a car when I was sixteen, but it was way more trouble than it was worth.

[Mostly because it was stolen.]

I'm not sure I would sleep any more soundly knowing you were out on the roads at night, anyway. I trust you two, but not other drivers. People are crazy. You wouldn't believe the idiots they give licenses to.

[Grace sighed and rolled her eyes while lolling her head against the back of the seat.]

You say that because you got to have one. I just want to know what it's like. Other people aren't really much of a problem when we live in the middle of no where.

[Was this argument working? No? Maybe she should change tactics. Not that it was really that big of a deal. She didn't really need a car, but it would certainly be more convenient to be able to drive. Nevermind that she technically wasn't old enough for a license anyway.]

Can I at least pick the music?

[Don't deny her this. She'll have to listen to Boston on the way home, most likely.]

There's a lot more to it than just having the car, you know. There's gas money, insurance, maintenance, repairs...

[She ticks each item off the list as she pulls out into the street and starts down the road. Well, if it could be called a street. They really did live in the middle of nowhere, all wide-open and winding roads. The drive would be a brief one, only ten minutes or so, but that was a far cry from Storybrooke, where most things were within walking distance.

She glances over at Grace's request and smiles.]

Yeah, go ahead. You'll be listening to Metallica or something on the way back, you deserve it.

[Because Dean always parties like it's 1985.]

I could get a job apart from babysitting and pay for it all that way.

[Emma, you're making this more difficult than it is. She could make this happen if you give her the chance. Maybe. Lots of places hire fifteen year olds, right? Okay, so maybe she's pushing her luck, but being able to choose the music takes her focus now.

Hopefully Emma doesn't mind her taste in music.]

Thank you. I don't know how he can do it, you know? I can only handle so much of his music at a time.

School is your job for now. Let's keep it that way, alright, kid? You should be enjoying the time you've got now. You've got your whole life ahead of you to get a job.

[Okay, so high school isn't the greatest experience for everyone. It certainly wasn't for her, when she'd bothered going. She wanted both Henry and Grace to be able to enjoy these years. Have their parents looking out for them, leaving them free to focus on things like school and friends and all of the normal things that Emma had never really been able to manage.

Maybe she was being overprotective, but it was only because she wanted both of them to have a better adolescent experience than she did. She knew her husband would agree, even if his own life experiences were not quite so mundane. That was fine. He could take care of all of the fairytale problems that might pop up. ... okay, even now, that still sounded ridiculous.

The music, however, suits Emma's tastes just fine -- she makes no complaint, just focuses on the road ahead and continues towards Casa de Winchester.]

Different generation.

[She smiled wryly. Emma certainly wasn't against Dean's taste in music, but she had to wonder if he'd ever even tried to branch out.]

People like what they like. Guess he figures there can't be too much of a good thing, you know? But in some cases, there can. Really can.

[So she needs to get friends who drive.]

It still must be inconvenient for you to drive Henry and I everywhere.

[It's an honest observation, really. This time Emma is spending to drive all the way to Dean's and back could be used for something more relaxing. Grace appreciates it, of course, and it's not like this is unplanned, but it doesn't stop the thought from crossing her mind.

But Emma has a point. Having a job after school would eat up all of her time and then what? Her grades would slip if she didn't have time to study. Of course, that would mean she would have a harder time getting into any program she wanted for university studies.

It's strange just how dramatically someone's life can change. A formal education would've never been available to her if she was back in the Enchanted Forest. Or in Storybrooke, even, since no one could leave. But at the same time, would it have even been necessary?]

I feel bad for anyone who has to ride in the car while he's driving. Myself included.

You know, this is a moot conversation, anyway. Neither one of you is sixteen yet, even if you get your permit, you won't be able to drive on your own for months, and you can't drive alone in this state after nine o'clock until you're eighteen. You'd still be stuck with me chauffeuring you.

[There's nothing accusatory about it, and she remains smiling, though she shakes her head a little in disbelief.]

We can look into getting your permit, but it's up to you to find the material and study for the test to get it. After that, I can't make any promises. You know your dad would probably freak out at the thought of you behind the wheel of a car.

[Not that Grace isn't plenty responsible. It's just that Jefferson has... well. He's very possessive and protective of what's his. And rightfully so, in this particular case. Emma could relate. She felt the same way about Henry -- and Grace. Grace was just as much hers as Henry had ever been.

She smirks to herself when Grace comments on Dean's driving. Yeah, that's accurate.]

It could be worse, though, right? Consider it an education in classic rock.

[She pauses.]

Unless you mean his driving in itself. He's not speeding and whipping you around corners on the way home, is he?

[Emma, there are like two turns between your houses. There aren't that many curves to whip around.]

[Considering it's September and Grace is a metaphorical March hare, she's got another six months until she's sixteen. But there's still that year of having a permit before she can even get a regular license to keep in mind. If she could manage to get her permit sometime soon, she could have a regular license before she turns eighteen.

But she's certain that'll be easier said than done if not impossible. For most things this wouldn't be that bad, but come on. All the cool kids drive themselves everywhere. And let's be real here for five seconds. How likely is it that either of her parents would let her get in a car with any of her friends without presenting proof of insurance and a complete background report?

Parents pls.]

They have rule books at school. I could get one there tomorrow and start studying and maybe get my permit next week? [Listen to that hopeful tone.] You're on my side, right? We could convince Papa that it's no big deal and nothing to fret over if he objects to it.

[Foolproof plan. Let's do this, ma.]

For being classic music, it's lacking in cello. But I did mean the music. He gets me home in half the time it takes you to drive there but his driving isn't that bad, usually.

Edited 2013-02-20 07:03 (UTC)

[Yeah, yeah. She can't say no to that tone of voice. Henry uses it all the time, too.

The worst part about having two smart kids around the same age? They learned from each other. Taught each other their various tricks and manipulative ploys and generally managed to get their parents to meet them at least halfway on anything they wanted.

All right. She and Jefferson were suckers.]

Get the book and I'll see what I can do to convince him. I'm on your side.

[She's conceding. Well done, Grace.]

As for your own car, we've got awhile before we have to think about that, but... if your dad's okay with it, you can drive mine.

[Carefully.]

What do you mean, 'usually?'

[She glances over, eyebrow raised as she turns onto the Winchesters' road.]

Faster isn't always better. We're never late, are we?

[Success! This is a victory, even if it might be temporary. Maybe she and Henry exchanged notes on parental manipulation once upon a time. Who knows. When they were younger, Grace might've told Henry that if he looks up to Jefferson with big puppy dog eyes and says pleeeeeeaaaase, Papa? it's easy to get new toys. Of course, Grace has always had the insight to know when to drop it and not push, which might possibly work in her favour on some things.

On car related things? She's on the fence with that and has no idea if this will actually work out successfully even if Emma is on her side about it. But it doesn't hurt to try.

She offers Emma a nice big smile.]

You're the best.

[The smile fades as the conversation continues and she just shrugs. Does her body language ever remind you of anyone else, Emma?]

It wouldn't be fair to say always since that would mean he's a perfect driver. He hasn't run us off the road or anything.

[Pause.]

He just might've made the car hydroplane when it was raining really bad last time I was over there.

Just remember that you said that next time you're mad at me. No backsies, alright, kid?

[The mention of hydroplaning, however, made her cringe -- visibly. Really, Dean? Really?]

Maybe I should pick you up. Or text Anita and ask her to drive you. AC/DC and unsafe driving just seems like a terrible combination to me.

I'll do my best to try to remember.

[She usually doesn't get mad often anyway.]

The driving part probably wasn't intentional. It won't happen again, so there's no need for you to go out late at night to get me.

[Grace, have a disbelieving stare as the bug slows down to turn into the Winchesters' driveway, though Emma faces forward long enough to make sure she's given the Impala plenty of breathing room. Just to be safe.]

Really. No concern for your own safety?

[She shakes her head slightly, putting the car into park but leaving the engine running.]

All right, go on. Call if you need anything. I'll be around all night, okay?

Of course there's concern, but think of his ego.

[She doesn't want to hurt his feelings, ok? She can be really considerate sometimes. After unbuckling her seatbelt, she leans over and gives Emma a brief hug and gets out of the car.]

Will do. See you later.

[With a wave, she heads off to the front door and rings the bell.]

Have a good night, kid.

[Emma smiles as she returns the embrace as best she can from the driver's seat, opting to let the car idle in the driveway until she sees the door open. Once it does, she slowly begins to pull out, leaving Grace in her own capable hands for the rest of the evening.

It's Anita who manages to get to the door first, though from the sounds of it, Sammy's not far off -- the distinct sound of what's probably at least thirty megabloks being knocked over cuts through the air, followed by a brief shriek of laughter. Anita herself offers Grace a lopsided grin as she pulls the door open further, ushering the girl inside.]

Hey, come on in. Thanks for coming over, Grace.

[The sound of the toys and Sammy's laughter brings a smile to her face. How can it not? She loves that kid like he's her own little brother. Just don't tell her parents that. She doesn't need competition for her parents' affection, ok? She and Henry have a good thing going.]

You know I never mind. How's Sammy doing this evening?

[Anita glances over her shoulder in the direction of the Sammy's room before shutting the door behind Grace, offering her a knowing smirk.]

Playing Godzilla. Dean may or may not be a rival monster. Sammy can't seem to decide.

[She looks towards the hallway as the sounds of laughter suddenly cease and are replaced by excited footsteps instead as Sammy runs into the front room, ducking behind the table near the door and peeking around the edge to smile shyly at Grace. Anita braced a hand against her hip, amused.]

He's been asking for you all day.

[She laughs at the mention of the Godzilla thing. Grace can appreciate any father willing to play with their kids like that. Her own father surely must've gotten tired of tea parties at some point.]

Has he really? He never stops being adorable.

[It's really touching. She loves that kid to bits. When she sees Sammy, she squats down and waves at him.]

Hi Sammy. I missed you, bud.

[Anita folds her arms as she watches with interest, biting at her lower lip to keep her smile from breaking into all-out laughter as Sammy ducked back behind the table. For a long while there, she'd been unable to imagine herself with kids, even though it was something she'd always wanted. Then, of course, life had to go ahead and prove her wrong by giving her what she felt was the cutest one possible.

Of course, she was pretty positive that the shy boy routine was all an act. She'd seen this kid lay it on thick plenty of times. Just like dad.

Sammy finally decided to walk over to where Grace had squatted, grinning from ear to ear when he reached her.]

Hi! I missed you, too.

[He reached out to seize one of her hands with his own, though his grip was still tiny.]

You gonna play with me, babe?

[Behind Grace, Anita covered her mouth and attempted to choke down her laughter.

Yep. Ladies' man.]

[Grace immediately whips her head back towards Anita, flabbergasted that this child has just called her babe. That's certainly something she'll text home about. Dear Mama and Papa, a three year old just called me babe. Look at my life, look at my choices.

Despite how ridiculous this seems to her, she offers Sammy a smile and lets him lead her wherever he wants her to go.]

You bet, kiddo. You know that's exactly what I came here to do.

[And then she does something she remembers her Papa doing all the time when she was still small enough for it--she gets to her feet and swiftly lifts him in a swinging motion and gives him a nice big hug.]

[Anita just turns her hands up and shrugs at Grace in reply, grinning broadly.]

He takes after his father?

[Meanwhile, Sammy seems to be delighted with the full-body hug, laughing brightly as Grace swings him upwards and putting both of his arms around her neck to steady himself.]

Good! I have lots to do. Important things.

[Which, for a three-year-old, could mean any number of things. Anita smiles at the both of them before turning towards the hallway to head deeper into the house.]

I'm going to go see if I can hunt down Mothra and shoo him out of the house. Godzilla, be nice to Grace, okay?

Edited 2013-02-22 07:26 (UTC)

[Grace isn't sure if that's reassuring or not, so she decides to just nod in response before giving Sammy her undivided attention completely.]

Let's hope we can do all the important things, hm?

[She makes faces at him before calling back to Anita.] Don't worry; he'll be fine.

[Anita will possibly find Dean in the bedroom, getting ready for their "job."]

[Sammy grins brightly, taking her hand and starting to lead her towards the living room.]

I've been building! A firehouse an' a police station an' factory. Come see!

[He tugs more urgently as they near the room in question, the floor of which is covered with a rather elaborate spread of various colors, shapes and sizes of legos.

He's been busy.

Upstairs, Anita pokes her head into the bedroom and raises an eyebrow as she spots Dean examining himself in the full-length mirror beside the closet. She smirks to herself as she comes up behind him, putting her arms around his waist and resting her forehead against his back, between his shoulder blades. Being short was often a curse, but at the moment, she didn't mind it so much.

But seriously, Dean. What's taking so long? She's been ready for half an hour.]

What do you even need to do to get ready? You could just put on any clothes. They're not staying on very long.

[She says as though she hasn't made a very deliberate effort, herself. Hypocrisy is okay when you're married. Expected, even.]

[Grace mock gasps, though she's sure it's convincing enough for a toddler. She's careful not to step on any of the toys once she gets into the room. That would hurt.]

Oh, wow! You're such an amazing builder, Sammy.

[Meanwhile, a certain Winchester has been making faces at himself in the mirror. Do you know how much effort it takes to look like you don't care about your appearance intentionally? The grunge look Anita totally digs doesn't make itself, yanno?]

Hey, she doesn't know we're doing that. She thinks we're going on a job and we need to look that way.

[Sammy beams brightly at her, clearly quite pleased with the results of toiling over his legos for the entire afternoon. It must have been quite the undertaking, and spoke volumes about his attention span, really.]

I'm an arch-tect.

[He says it with pride. You're impressed, right, Grace? Girls love architects. He's going to build skyscrapers someday. Just you wait and see.

Anita raises an eyebrow as she leans out to peek around him, catching a glimpse of one of those faces. She attempts and fails to stifle a snort of laughter. Okay. Watching him get ready is always kind of an experience.]

Hmm. Well, if we're going for realism, then, I think I'm a bit under-dressed.

[Even now, she didn't own much that she wouldn't wear hunting, so the clothes were certainly appropriate, but she was missing a few accessories. She broke away from him and stole an appreciative glance -- he really did make the devil-may-care look work for him -- and went to retrieve a few of the items she kept locked in the cabinet that served as her nightstand. There was always the option of wearing the inner-pants holster, but honestly, it was uncomfortable as hell and put weird bulges in your clothes.

Thigh holster was better. Knife sheaths, too.

She grinned as she began to pull the straps closed around her right thigh, checking to make sure they were tight enough before reaching for the Browning. She never went anywhere without it anyway, but unless she was on police business, she tended to prefer concealed carry. If they were trying to keep up appearances, though...

The lengths they went to in order to aid Grace's suspension of disbelief. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that they both had a hell of a time getting the word 'date' out of their mouths. Nothing at all.]

I don't even get to wear this one for work that often anymore. Knives overkill, d'you think?

[Oh, Grace is so impressed. And the way he says architect? That's the most adorable thing ever.]

Are you really? Show me what you can make, Sammy.

[All Dean really has to do is put on a flannel and he's set. It takes him a matter of moments. The rest of that time is spent watching Anita get ready. One thing about her--not only does she have a great ass, but goddamn she wears a gun holster well. She uses one even better.

Talk about getting him hot and bothered. He just loves a woman who's kickass like this.]

It's overkill, but bring it anyway.

[Sammy gives her a flirtatious wink before sitting cross-legged on the floor, dismantling the nearest structure and starting to re-arrange the legos to put together the beginnings of a skyscraper. As he builds, he decides to chat her up. You know, casually.]

Daddy says to tell girls you're FBI, but I thought you would like arch-tects better.

[Babe. ;D

She doesn't even have to try hard to catch him looking, and she smirks openly as she straps her knife sheaths to her upper arms, one after the other, sliding her custom-made blades into them afterwards before reaching for her cropped leather jacket to slide on over them. The gun is plainly visible, but unless someone was looking closely, they wouldn't spot the bulge made by the handles beneath her shoulders.]

You just like getting to take them off of me.

[Or watching her dismantle her arsenal. Seems to depend on the day.]

Ready to go check in with Grace and head out? I'm sure she's expecting the usual drill.

[Grace smiles. What a precious child.]

You were certainly right. I absolutely love architects.

[Have a boop to the nose, Sammy.]

That's true.

[He's not even going to lie. His wife is the most smokin' wife he ever did see. But there will be plenty of time for that shortly. He needs to make Grace do her drills and make sure the house is secure so they can actually leave.

Or he could be smart and suggest divide and conquer.]

Yup. I'll have a run-through with Grace. Make sure the windows are salted?

[He's not waiting for an answer. Down the stairs he does. Pchoooo.]

Got it covered, Ace.

[Dean was already out the door, but Anita shouted her answer after him as she flashed a brief thumbs-up in his general direction before she started going around to each of the windows on the second floor. Couldn't be too careful.

Downstairs, Sammy giggles openly as Grace booped his nose, giving her his brightest, most winsome ladykiller smile afterwards, turning his head in the direction of the stairs when he hears his father's footsteps descending.]

Daddy! I told you she'd be more impressed with arch-tects.

[He turns his attention back to Grace.]

I'm gonna build us a house. With a room just for our dog.

[Dean folded his arm and leaned against the wall as he watched his son. That kid was going to grow up to be such a ladykiller and he was proud as hell for that.]

Guess I was wrong, huh? Alright Sport, I need to borrow Grace for a minute. Go see if your mama needs help carrying her purse.

[Once his son was out of sight, he pulled his handgun from the back of his pants and handed it to Grace for her typical drills. Safety was on, of course.]

What about our cat? We have to have a room for her too. And our bunnies.

[Grace never had any problem playing along; she thought it fun. But it could wait again now that Dean wanted her attention. She didn't understand why all this paranoia was necessary but whatever. She took the gun from him and ran through the drills. Turning safety on and off, taking the clip out, ect.]

They'll all have rooms! Specially for them.

[Sammy beams at Grace in reply, glad to hear she's on board with this plan, but it quickly turns to something like a pout when Dean tells him he needs to borrow her. That means they have to talk about stuff they don't want him to hear. He knows what that means by now. He also knows that dragging his feet won't make it be over any faster, so he settles for hanging his head as he makes his way towards the hallway.]

'Kay. Don't borrow her too long. I need her for somethin'.

[That said, he takes off at a run, calling for his mother as he goes. The purse errand will probably keep him busy for all of three minutes, but that's enough time for a drill or two.]

[Dean has Grace go through the gun drill twice on command. Once he's done with that, he asks her the same questions he always does. She knows the answers by heart by now. A simple "yes, no, yes, yes, salt, make sure the safety is off first, call you" answers everything he asks.

She still doesn't fully understand his paranoia, but she takes it in stride anyway, and that's all Dean can ask for.

Once they're done, he pats her shoulder and hollers for Anita to go out to the car as he heads outside. This leaves Grace going to hunt down Sammy again.]

[Grace doesn't have to hunt long, as Sammy turns back towards the living room after giving both of his parents a hug and kiss goodbye at the door. He's grinning brightly by the time he returns, sitting himself down cross-legged next to his sprawling block city, looking expectantly at Grace as he waits for her to join him.]

You're gonna play, too, right?

;don't tell mom the babysitter's dead

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ty for the excuse to use this icon

Re: ty for the excuse to use this icon

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