Promise?

Birthday

Dean woke up to the smell of a pie being baked in the kitchen, cherry pie. He took the blanket off of him and shoved it into a corner of the bed, he didn't really like placing it gently on the bed or folding it down. He excitedly ran downstairs, until he stopped midway. He heard a whimper from the kitchen. Shivers ran through him. What if he goes downstairs to the view of his mom bleeding out into the kitchen because she tried to kill herself? It wouldn't be the first time. 

Slowly, Dean pressed his foot one after another, without making a sound, until the kitchen came into the view. His mom was sitting on the opposite side of the oven, on a kitchen table, with her legs spread wide, and John was between them. Sex, they were having sex, while a cherry pie was being baked in the oven, for Dean's 11th birthday. 

Dean gagged internally and ran upstairs. He didn't care if he made a sound, he just wanted to get the image of his parents having sex in the kitchen out of his head. He closed the door behind him, and sat on the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. After a few moments of silence, loud moans were heard. Dean closed his ears but the moans then turned into screams, that pierced through his hands, into his ears. Eventually, after a few seconds, the moans stopped and thumps echoed on the stairs. Someone was coming upstairs. He quickly grabbed the blanket while laying back on the bed and wrapped the blanket around him like a burrito, burying his face in it too.

 The door swung open and Dean froze. He was too scared to move. The blanket was abruptly taken off of Dean. He opened his eyes and standing in front of him was his dad, and he did not look happy.

John gripped Dean's arm harshly and pulled him out of bed, "Sit." He ordered.

Dean gulped and sat down on the bed, biting into his inner lip. John took a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it across the floor until it was in front of Dean, and sat on it. 

He started, "What the hell were you doing downstairs? Don't you know that parents need privacy sometimes? Or are you - " 

"I didn't know that you were - " Dean's sentence got interrupted as John slapped him. His cheek stung. He wanted to cry, but he knew that crying would just make things worse. John didn't really like the idea of a male crying. Pathetic, weak, and unmanly people, He called them.

"I'm not finished with my sentence yet," John gritted out through his teeth. "Why did you come downstairs? Were the noises not loud enough for you to figure out what was happening, or do you just like to watch your parents having sex?"

Dean's words choked up in his throat. Did his dad really think that low of him? Dean took a deep breath then answered, "Sorry...I was just too excited.."

John frowned and then raised an eyebrow, "Excited? For what?" 

"My birthday..." Dean said lowly, as if it was the worst thing in the world. But for John, it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It wasn't the best thing in the world either. It was just...nothing. It meant nothing to him, and he couldn't care less about it.

John rolled his eyes, "Oh, yes, that." 

They sat in silence for a few minutes until John broke it. Grunting, he said "I'm forgiving you for now cause it's your birthday. I'm warning you, Dean, it shouldn't happen again." Dean nodded. 

John smiled, but it was fake and Dean knew it, "C'mon, let's go and eat the pie your mom has made. The Montmorency cherries are too expensive to be wasted anyway." He grabbed Dean's wrist and walked downstairs, Dean walking behind him with his wrist still in John's hand. His heart hammered in his chest at the mere touch of John. 

"Happy birthday Deanie!" Mary squeaked as Dean entered the kitchen. She hugged him tightly, and usually, Dean would feel much better in her arms, but right now, he just felt disgusted. He still hugged her back though. She pulled back and noticed Dean's cheek, which was red, and, just for a second, her face saddened at the sight.