"Dayenu" (PG, Dean/Lisa, 5.22+)
title: "Dayenu"
author: fannishliss
rated: PG,
warnings: none, spoilers for 5.22. Lisa pov
words: 1300
disclaimer: This story proceeds from the challenging and evocative scenario set forth at the end of 5.22. Thanks to Kripke and everyone at spn for their fantastic work. This story follows on from the Promise verse but can stand on its own.
Summary: It was the nightmares and the drinking that helped Lisa make up her mind.
Master List for the Promise 'verse (5.22+)
i. " not the burnt and broken" (Dean pov)
ii. " blind, without a blow" (Lucifer pov)
iii. " Ground Rules" (Lisa pov)
iv. " two-edged, golden, sanguine" (Sam in Hell)
v. " Keeping the Promise" (Dean and Lisa)
vi. " illumine our tempestuous day" (Sam's return)
~*o*~
“You finding anything?” Lisa asked one morning when she walked into the kitchen, to find Dean already hunched over the paper, pot of coffee down two cups.
Dean looked up, his face lined with fatigue, eyes bloodshot. Another one of those nights.
“I got a call back yesterday from Arbuckle’s; they want to see my credentials.”
“Do you, uh, have any credentials?”
Dean attempted his cocky grin, and mostly succeeded. “Paper is easy, and what I got in my head is plenty to get by with.”
“That’s good, then,” Lisa replied.
Dean’s new name was Dean Johnson, which matched a full set of IDs and credentials that he and Bobby had set up before he left Sioux Falls. It was better than Siegfried Houdini, anyway.
“I, uh, I found a couple of places to call about a room.” Dean’s cocky grin fell aside.
Lisa’s heart gave a thud. Now or never.
“About that,” Lisa said, sitting down.
Dean picked at something on his pants leg.
“You’ve been doing a little better recently,” she said gently.
Dean shrugged, still not meeting her eye.
It had been nearly a month - a long time for a house guest in a house without a guest room, but Lisa had taken Ben up on his offer to sleep in his bed, and Ben didn’t mind the air mattress, especially if it meant Dean was around to drive him to and from camp, which was earning him massive cred with the other kids, just as Dean had hoped.
At Lisa’s request, he’d cut back on the drinking. She asked him to keep the whiskey in the kitchen instead of the car, so she could keep an eye on it, and knowing she was monitoring it seemed to help. On top of the whiskey, he’d been drinking a six pack a day at first, but now he maybe had a beer at supper and a shot of whiskey later - and if Lisa could get him talking, sometimes he’d go without that.
On nights when they sat up together after Ben had gone to bed, Lisa and Dean traded stories. She told him about college, her friends there, her semester in Barcelona, and her time in India after graduation; stories about Ben as a baby when they lived in the loft; how her parents had bought her the big house, and how she’d sold it after the changeling; how Ben still ran with a lot of those kids, the ones that hadn’t moved away, and how focused he was on becoming a Hunter like Dean.
Dean was reluctant to talk about Hunting, after a lifetime of keeping it a secret, but Lisa wanted to hear all his stories. He was slow to get started but if she could get him going he’d tell all the little details of the Hunt, the instincts he’d developed of keeping track of his surroundings, his feel for when something was off. It was really a little mind-blowing once she realized how many lives he’d saved over the years; Dean always focused on the ones he’d lost.
Lisa loved to hear Dean talk about Sam. Dean’s love and pride and grief over Sam were inextricably mingled, but sometimes telling a story about Sam would even make him smile, and that was what Lisa was looking for. Those nights were quieter for Dean.
He still had nightmares almost every night. She’d hear him whimper and come in and pat his shoulder till he calmed and fell back into sleep. It was on nights when she didn’t hear him that she’d find him downstairs in the morning, already having gone for a five or six mile run and making breakfast, darkness in his eyes and his face lined with fatigue.
It was the nightmares and the drinking that helped Lisa make up her mind. She knew he was a grownup; he’d taken care of himself all his life; but when she pictured him on his own, his whimpers turning to anguished shouts, ringing out in an empty apartment, bottles of whiskey beckoning him to a deceitful oblivion, she just couldn’t do it.
“I don’t want you to move out,” Lisa said.
“Huh?” Dean said, meeting her eyes in surprise.
“I don’t want you to move out. I think it would be a mistake. I really, really want you to stay,” Lisa said. She was nervous, but she knew she was doing the right thing.
“Why?” Dean said simply.
Lisa found it hard to put her feelings into words. Partly, she was growing accustomed to having Dean around. Partly, she enjoyed having him there for adult conversation after Ben’s bedtime. Partly, she wanted to take care of him, to make sure all the progress he had made didn’t fall away once he moved out on his own. And maybe, she might be falling in love with him. It was all just too chick flick, and Lisa didn’t like chick flicks any more than Dean did.
“You told me you wanted to try. And you have been trying, and you’ve been doing really well. I don’t think it’s fair to make you do it all on your own. I like having you here. I like you, Dean. I’d miss you if you moved out.” Lisa thought maybe that wasn’t too soppy.
Dean gave a lopsided grin, but his eyes were wide and soft. Dean’s face, for all that he tried to use it as a mask, was one of the most expressive Lisa had ever known.
“I don’t want to be a burden, to put you out,” Dean said.
Dean was crazy to think that he was a burden. He found chores to do and did them before Lisa even thought about it. He’d detailed Lisa’s car to a blinding cleanliness. Then, he detailed her kitchen, and the bathrooms. He’d mown the lawn several times and even weeded and mulched around the shrubs. He was very good at laundry, and a decent cook with food that didn’t have too many ingredients. He got on well with Ben, respectful but cool, though wouldn’t talk about Hunting with the kid no matter how much Ben pestered him, and he deferred to Lisa when Ben had questions.
Lisa let out a breath. “I gotta be straight with you, Dean. I think there’s something good happening between us. It’d be stupid to throw you out now just when things are starting to make sense.”
Dean didn’t say anything, but Lisa could see that same desperate hope in his eyes, like a dog who’d been kicked too many times, licking the hand of a stranger.
Lisa leaned forward. Dean’s coffee and paper were still on the table. He held himself back a little, till her lips touched his. With a soft exhalation he relaxed into her kiss, looking after her seriously as she pulled away.
“I feel almost like I’m taking advantage of you,” Lisa said, smiling.
“No one has ever said that to me,” Dean joked, lamely.
“When you’re ready, just let me know--” Lisa whispered.
Dean looked back at her, then leaned forward on his own until their lips touched. Kissing her tentatively, Dean caressed her lips with his own, so gentle, so sweet, but with a skill that made Lisa tremble for more. She breathed into him, and he brought his hand up to cup the side of her face, the other hand reaching down to stroke her side. Lisa knew the strength Dean was holding back, and she felt like a treasure in his hands.
When they finally broke apart, Lisa laughed.
“Dayenu,” she said. “If we never did anything else, that would be enough.”
“Oh baby, that’s nothing,” Dean whispered, silkily.
Ben came charging down the stairs, ready to start the day, and Dean folded up the paper while Lisa got out the bagels.
Author's note: Intrigued by Dean's use of "dayenu" in 5.3, I decided that the mother of Benjamin Isaac Braeden is as likely a source as any for introducing the word to Dean. I know the song! Apologies if it seems like you wouldn't use it like this
author: fannishliss
rated: PG,
warnings: none, spoilers for 5.22. Lisa pov
words: 1300
disclaimer: This story proceeds from the challenging and evocative scenario set forth at the end of 5.22. Thanks to Kripke and everyone at spn for their fantastic work. This story follows on from the Promise verse but can stand on its own.
Summary: It was the nightmares and the drinking that helped Lisa make up her mind.
Master List for the Promise 'verse (5.22+)
i. " not the burnt and broken" (Dean pov)
ii. " blind, without a blow" (Lucifer pov)
iii. " Ground Rules" (Lisa pov)
iv. " two-edged, golden, sanguine" (Sam in Hell)
v. " Keeping the Promise" (Dean and Lisa)
vi. " illumine our tempestuous day" (Sam's return)
~*o*~
“You finding anything?” Lisa asked one morning when she walked into the kitchen, to find Dean already hunched over the paper, pot of coffee down two cups.
Dean looked up, his face lined with fatigue, eyes bloodshot. Another one of those nights.
“I got a call back yesterday from Arbuckle’s; they want to see my credentials.”
“Do you, uh, have any credentials?”
Dean attempted his cocky grin, and mostly succeeded. “Paper is easy, and what I got in my head is plenty to get by with.”
“That’s good, then,” Lisa replied.
Dean’s new name was Dean Johnson, which matched a full set of IDs and credentials that he and Bobby had set up before he left Sioux Falls. It was better than Siegfried Houdini, anyway.
“I, uh, I found a couple of places to call about a room.” Dean’s cocky grin fell aside.
Lisa’s heart gave a thud. Now or never.
“About that,” Lisa said, sitting down.
Dean picked at something on his pants leg.
“You’ve been doing a little better recently,” she said gently.
Dean shrugged, still not meeting her eye.
It had been nearly a month - a long time for a house guest in a house without a guest room, but Lisa had taken Ben up on his offer to sleep in his bed, and Ben didn’t mind the air mattress, especially if it meant Dean was around to drive him to and from camp, which was earning him massive cred with the other kids, just as Dean had hoped.
At Lisa’s request, he’d cut back on the drinking. She asked him to keep the whiskey in the kitchen instead of the car, so she could keep an eye on it, and knowing she was monitoring it seemed to help. On top of the whiskey, he’d been drinking a six pack a day at first, but now he maybe had a beer at supper and a shot of whiskey later - and if Lisa could get him talking, sometimes he’d go without that.
On nights when they sat up together after Ben had gone to bed, Lisa and Dean traded stories. She told him about college, her friends there, her semester in Barcelona, and her time in India after graduation; stories about Ben as a baby when they lived in the loft; how her parents had bought her the big house, and how she’d sold it after the changeling; how Ben still ran with a lot of those kids, the ones that hadn’t moved away, and how focused he was on becoming a Hunter like Dean.
Dean was reluctant to talk about Hunting, after a lifetime of keeping it a secret, but Lisa wanted to hear all his stories. He was slow to get started but if she could get him going he’d tell all the little details of the Hunt, the instincts he’d developed of keeping track of his surroundings, his feel for when something was off. It was really a little mind-blowing once she realized how many lives he’d saved over the years; Dean always focused on the ones he’d lost.
Lisa loved to hear Dean talk about Sam. Dean’s love and pride and grief over Sam were inextricably mingled, but sometimes telling a story about Sam would even make him smile, and that was what Lisa was looking for. Those nights were quieter for Dean.
He still had nightmares almost every night. She’d hear him whimper and come in and pat his shoulder till he calmed and fell back into sleep. It was on nights when she didn’t hear him that she’d find him downstairs in the morning, already having gone for a five or six mile run and making breakfast, darkness in his eyes and his face lined with fatigue.
It was the nightmares and the drinking that helped Lisa make up her mind. She knew he was a grownup; he’d taken care of himself all his life; but when she pictured him on his own, his whimpers turning to anguished shouts, ringing out in an empty apartment, bottles of whiskey beckoning him to a deceitful oblivion, she just couldn’t do it.
“I don’t want you to move out,” Lisa said.
“Huh?” Dean said, meeting her eyes in surprise.
“I don’t want you to move out. I think it would be a mistake. I really, really want you to stay,” Lisa said. She was nervous, but she knew she was doing the right thing.
“Why?” Dean said simply.
Lisa found it hard to put her feelings into words. Partly, she was growing accustomed to having Dean around. Partly, she enjoyed having him there for adult conversation after Ben’s bedtime. Partly, she wanted to take care of him, to make sure all the progress he had made didn’t fall away once he moved out on his own. And maybe, she might be falling in love with him. It was all just too chick flick, and Lisa didn’t like chick flicks any more than Dean did.
“You told me you wanted to try. And you have been trying, and you’ve been doing really well. I don’t think it’s fair to make you do it all on your own. I like having you here. I like you, Dean. I’d miss you if you moved out.” Lisa thought maybe that wasn’t too soppy.
Dean gave a lopsided grin, but his eyes were wide and soft. Dean’s face, for all that he tried to use it as a mask, was one of the most expressive Lisa had ever known.
“I don’t want to be a burden, to put you out,” Dean said.
Dean was crazy to think that he was a burden. He found chores to do and did them before Lisa even thought about it. He’d detailed Lisa’s car to a blinding cleanliness. Then, he detailed her kitchen, and the bathrooms. He’d mown the lawn several times and even weeded and mulched around the shrubs. He was very good at laundry, and a decent cook with food that didn’t have too many ingredients. He got on well with Ben, respectful but cool, though wouldn’t talk about Hunting with the kid no matter how much Ben pestered him, and he deferred to Lisa when Ben had questions.
Lisa let out a breath. “I gotta be straight with you, Dean. I think there’s something good happening between us. It’d be stupid to throw you out now just when things are starting to make sense.”
Dean didn’t say anything, but Lisa could see that same desperate hope in his eyes, like a dog who’d been kicked too many times, licking the hand of a stranger.
Lisa leaned forward. Dean’s coffee and paper were still on the table. He held himself back a little, till her lips touched his. With a soft exhalation he relaxed into her kiss, looking after her seriously as she pulled away.
“I feel almost like I’m taking advantage of you,” Lisa said, smiling.
“No one has ever said that to me,” Dean joked, lamely.
“When you’re ready, just let me know--” Lisa whispered.
Dean looked back at her, then leaned forward on his own until their lips touched. Kissing her tentatively, Dean caressed her lips with his own, so gentle, so sweet, but with a skill that made Lisa tremble for more. She breathed into him, and he brought his hand up to cup the side of her face, the other hand reaching down to stroke her side. Lisa knew the strength Dean was holding back, and she felt like a treasure in his hands.
When they finally broke apart, Lisa laughed.
“Dayenu,” she said. “If we never did anything else, that would be enough.”
“Oh baby, that’s nothing,” Dean whispered, silkily.
Ben came charging down the stairs, ready to start the day, and Dean folded up the paper while Lisa got out the bagels.
Author's note: Intrigued by Dean's use of "dayenu" in 5.3, I decided that the mother of Benjamin Isaac Braeden is as likely a source as any for introducing the word to Dean. I know the song! Apologies if it seems like you wouldn't use it like this