Hunterphantomhive46

I nearly finished the drawings but thought id post this first
I wrote this over like a long time so somet hings are written earlier than other so yeet

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baso i started having dreams again
But they were all today (when i started writing this which is who knows when)
And one of them were with dean
I considered making it a comic
But it would take too long
So im writing it out
And as a placeholder till we talk about it im calling the eldest brother scoTTbecause
Paul rudd
Thats literally it
Also hunters probably out of character buttttttt
E H
OH OH and ill prolly end up googling half way through a rando placeholder name for deans mum so yeet

Dean and Hunter stood in front of a somewhat small, run-down looking house on a street that didn't make the house look any better. Sebastian's arm was slung across Dean's shoulder to help support him, as Dean wasn't able to provide much first aid while driving and didn't particularly want to. For as much as Dean loved his family, he wasn't happy with his brother. First, there was framing him for various murders. Did he murder people? Sure, but having people killed and pinned on him that wasn't beneficial to his mob was a problem. Second, there was roping Hunter into it. Attaching her with bombs and forcing her to make all sorts of proclamations... He wasn't happy about it.

Overwhelmed by their memories, Sebastian and Dean stared at the house with a similar look of nostalgia. They were the youngest out of all their brothers, so they naturally spent the most time together at the house - regardless of their overall emotional closeness - and had an extreme fondness of the woman that still lived there. Neither visited the house in specific much. They both made sure to keep contact with their mother, but the house was something they tended to avoid heading to. Dean couldn't understand why his mother chose to continue living at the house. From the position that Dean currently stood in his life, his childhood house was like a pigsty to him and his eldest brother was more than willing to support their mother in moving her out of the old house. Then again, it had years upon years of memories.

"Welcome to my old house, sweetheart." Dean said, nudging Hunter a bit. He said 'sweetheart' with a sickly, sarcastic tone. It was used for girls and for people he considered a coward. He didn't much consider a Hunter a coward, but he found himself enjoying the casual teasing of her throughout his time with her. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't an official reason to hang out with Hunter anymore. They had figured out who was framing him and now all that was left to do was keep up his half of the deal: provide Hunter and her brother with protection. It wasn't like that was a hard thing to do, yet it was definitely something that him, as a mob boss, wouldn't get directly involved with. He couldn't think up much of a reason to see her after, either. That was it. Their journey was done. It was unfortunate. Dean shook his head to himself. Did he care for Hunter? Sure, but he couldn't show anyone that he had gone all soft about some rando that he was in strictly a business-only deal with. That was the end of it.

"Since when did you use cute little names?" Sebastian teased, which pried Dean from his thoughts. "You're as soft as a marshmallow."

"Do you really want to test me in the position that you're in right now?" Dean retorted, scowling at his brother. "You just got beat by me. I bet those knife wounds hurt. Keep talking and I'll trash you in the barrel."

Annoyed with their bickering, Hunter decided to intervene. "Can you two stop arguing?" She asked, tone exasperated. The two had been doing the same during the entire car ride as well, though something struck odd about it. It didn't feel like a genuine argument, despite them arguing. It sounded like the norm in how they treated each other, however that didn't prevent it from getting on her nerves. The car drive was long and it felt dragged out even longer than it was; she had enough of their back and forths.

"Whatever," Dean muttered. He grabbed onto the door knob, twisting it and opening the door.  Looking around, a sigh escaped his lips. As cramped as ever. Skinny hallways littered with family photos, rooms stuffed with anything that would fit, messy carpets and peeling wallpaper. Hunter followed behind and made sure to keep herself quiet. She felt it rude to comment on the home and thought that any attempts to be nice about it wouldn't be well received by Dean. Despite that, she felt awkward remaining quiet. "Hey, ma! It's Dean! I brought the sack of shit, Seb, with me!"

"Don't talk about your brother like that!" The voice of an older woman rang through the hallways, the response coming quick and sharp. Rolling his eyes, Dean led the way into the kitchen. It was likely the largest room in the house, given how the house looked from the outside, yet it seemed significantly small as it was cramped much like the rest of the house. First, the spaciousness of the room had already been decreased by the kitchen counters and various appliances. There would have still been a lot of room, if it weren't for the fact that there was a large, wooden dining table taking up most of the space in the centre, along with the chairs around it. The tap of the sink was on, a woman hand-washing dirty dishes. Her hair shared the same shade of brown as Dean's and Sebastian's. It was tied up into a messy bun to keep it out of her face. She wore a yellow shirt with elastic straps, a long and shapeless blue skirt along with a pair of sandles. Turning, her mahogany eyes glared at Dean. Her youngest son was the spitting image of her, likely the closest in terms of looking like her out of all her sons. The main, notable difference was Dean's stronger jawline. "What did you do this time?"

Hunter raised a brow, unintentionally hidden behind Seb and Dean due to the narrow entry frame of the kitchen. This time? Was it common for the two of them to have such fights back and forth? If it was, she was confused as to how the brothers were still living. Sebastian's injuries could have been fatal if Dean had let him bleed out. "I didn't do nothing. Seb started it," Dean blurted out quickly as an answer. After watching his brother join a gang as he grew up, Dean started to pick up the more violent behaviours earlier and they only escalated as he got older, until he managed to learn to control himself. He hadn't learnt to control himself until he had left home, so his mother had gotten used to and generally expected Dean to be the aggravator in any given situation. In turn, Dean had gotten used to giving out the excuses, especially when he hadn't done anything wrong or thought he hadn't done anything.

"Dean finished it," Sebastian added, indicating to one of his stab wounds. The woman held the bridge her nose, expression illustrating perfectly how done she was with the pair and being an excellent indicator to the amount of trouble the two caused. She turned the sink tap off and pulled out two seats either side the chair that was positioned at the head of the dining table.

"Just sit your asses down," she sighed and crossed her arms. Carefully, Dean led his brother through the cramped kitchen and set him down in the chair on the right. It was then that Hunter had caught the woman's eye; the glare on her face softened. "Dean, who's your friend?" Dean seated himself in the chair on the left, propping his elbow up on the table and resting his head in his hand. He glanced over to Hunter, then giving a shrug as a response to his mother.

"I made a deal with her because she was helpful in finding out the asshat framing me for murder, but we'll get into that in a second, won't we?" He answered sarcastically. Admittedly, Hunter felt a bit hurt by Dean's answer. She was sure that he'd be able to recognise her as a friend at the minimum, but also supposed she should have expected that kind of thing from Dean. After all, he came to her and was around her in order to find out who was framing him.

Sebastian removed his trenchcoat and placed it on the back of his seat. "Yeah, we will get into that, but aren't you missing the part where Hunter was strapped with bombs and you were-" The woman placed her hand on the back of Sebastian's head and slammed it into the table. She hadn't much interest in a gateway for the two brothers to start arguing back and forth and thought it was best to cut Seb off there. Dean had burst out laughing at the sight, finding joy in his brother's pain. It didn't last for long, though. The woman soon repeated the same action to Dean and held both boys' heads against the table.

The woman returned her attention to Hunter and gave her a smile. "Hunter, was it?" She asked. "Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?"

"No, it's f-"

"Are you sure?" The woman interrupted, removing her hands from the back of her sons' heads. Both boys raised their heads, Dean clicking his neck while Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. Hunter paused, unsure as to how to answer. She wasn't expecting to be cut off and wasn't sure if that meant Dean's mother wanted her to say yes to her questions. She entered the kitchen and sat down next to Dean, whose hands were searching about the pockets of his shorts. Her gaze lingered on the table for a moment before she raised them back up to look at the woman.

"...Some water would be nice," Hunter decided to say. When the words left her mouth, the woman's expression softened further, which indicated to Hunter that saying she would like something was the right choice to make. While the woman grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, Dean procured a pack of cigarettes from his pocket along with a lighter. Taking a cigarette between two fingers, he placed it in his mouth and shielded the end of it as he lit it. He leaned back in his seat, raising the chair off its front legs.

The smell of smoke quickly attracted the attention of Dean's mother. She turned from the sink with a scowl on her face. She made sure the tap was off prior to placing the glass of water in front of Hunter. Without a word, she grabbed the cigarette from her son's mouth and put it out on the cooler stone of the kitchen counter tops. Yet again, she slammed Dean's head into the dining table and held it there. "If you want to die of lung cancer, that's your choice, but don't you dare be bringing that thick smoke of death into my house. You brought a guest, as well. Even more reason to leave that for later." A 'sorry ma' could be heard quietly from Dean. Pulling out the chair at the head of the dining table, the woman sat down and crossed her arms. Her eyes found themselves on Hunter again. "I'm Sophia." She messed up both of the boys' hair. "And I gave birth to these two idiots."

"To be fair," Dean started, raising his head once Sophia removed her hand. "Three out of five wasn't so bad. It could have been all of us. Two idiots is better than five."

"You should have raised us better," Sebastian commented as he leaned back in his chair. The comment caused for an annoyed look to spread across Dean's face. He knew his brother and knew the one thing he was terrible at was portraying a joking tone. It would be a safe assumption to say that Sebastian had meant that as a joke, but Dean loved his family. A lot. And he loved his mother the most out of all his family. Dean took out his knife, stood up and pointed it at Seb.

"Ma raised us just fine. It was our stupid asses who decided to go into organised crime," Dean told him with a harsh tone in his voice. "It was our stupid asses who got into fights, our stupid asses that liked hurting people and our stupid asses that wanted money-" For the third time that day, Sophia forced Dean's head into the dining table. It was more awkward for the young mafia boss that time, seeing as he was standing up. The action from his mother caused for Dean's stance to instantly change, knees buckling as his lower half fell onto the floor.

Hunter's thoughts drifted at the repeated actions of Sophia. If it was something she did all the time when they were children, she couldn't imagine the two males having a happy childhood. However, there was the matter of the way the two had reacted: Sebastian had wished he was raised better, yet Dean immediately jumped to his mother's defense. She wasn't sure how to feel about the family dynamic, but paused when she looked at the scene. Particularly, back at Sophia. Though silent, there was a wetness in her eyes as she pushed Dean's head a little harder against the table. Hunter ultimately concluded Sophia's actions towards the two was more likely a recent development and then forced her eyes off the scene. It felt wrong to her to continue watching. She picked up her glass and stared at the edge of the table.

Sophia grabbed the knife from Dean's hand, placing it on the table. "I thought your stupid ass was smart enough to not want money," she whispered. "Not obsessively. Didn't I teach you better than that?"

"Well done, Dean. You made ma cry," Sebastian chipped in, resting his hands on the back of his head. Dean forced his mother's hand away from his head.

"Cram it," Dean retorted, then turning his attention to Sophia. "Ma, I'm sorry. You did teach me better than that. I'm just stupid. Please don't cry." He got up from the floor and set his hand on his mother's back, patting her back in gentle motions to try and make her feel better. "I'm sorry. I just get jealous of Scott, y'know? I didn't mean it like that. Ma, please don't feel bad. You raised me good. I just shouldn't have said that. Come on, smile or call me an idiot or something." A smile did begin to form on Sophia's face, yet it was more... teasing than anything else. Briefly wiping her eyes, she playfully punched Dean's shoulder before grabbing onto his cheeks and pinching them.

Her eyes glinted deviously. "Aw, look at my little Dean. So nice and caring. Aw, haven't you become such a gentleman?" Sophia teased, using a voice much similar to a mother talking to a baby rather than a grown man. "You know, if you want to make it up to your dear ma, why not do the laundry for me after we figure out this whole 'you nearly killed Seb for the eighth time' thing? You wouldn't want your dear ma to cry and sob, would you?" Hunter couldn't help but crack a smile, having started to watch the scene that was playing out once it didn't sound so bad. Quiet laughter soon started to leave her mouth. It was such a different side to Dean. "Because you care for me and you're very grateful for the life I've given you, aren't you?"

Dean was quiet for a few moments before pulling away from Sophia, returning to his seat. "You kidding me, ma? You could have just flat out said you wanted me to help while I'm here." He groaned. Returning his knife to his pocket, Dean ran a hand through his hair. He was about to rest his head in his hand once again, however his attention landed on Hunter. "There's nothing actually forcing me to give you and your brother that protection." Those words were swift in stopping Hunter's laughter on the matter. "Helping you is just a loyalty guarantee to anybody else I might need to make deals with. Nothing's actually making me." Sophia finally took her seat at the head of the table.

"I thought 'the mob don't work that way.'" Sophia said rhetorically. "You always find a situation when talking about that mob of yours to say how it works."

"I mean, you're right. The mob don't work that way, but technically-"

"You're abusing your position of power?"

"Well, yeah. Pretty much."

"You're not superior to everyone just because you're at the top of the criminal food chain. You shouldn't abuse any power you have."

"But the thing is, ma, I am superior. It's just a fact. I don't have to do anything for Hunter if I don't want to."

"The thing is, Dean, that attitude is gonna get you killed before twenty four and I'm not having you die because you're playing about with a larger than life attitude." That was the statement that finally got Dean to shut up on the matter, unable to find a response that would successfully convince his mother in him being right and her being wrong. It was hard to argue at all with his mother. He had tried in the past a lot before giving up, only rare attempts peaking through when he believed that he was completely right and when he believed his mother couldn't say anything to change that. Then Sophia would say something to change that and Dean would no longer be able to provide responses to his mother. It didn't mean his mind would change, but he would run out of good points to argue because Sophia found a point that weighed out all the rest. "Now that's done with, let's get to the meat of things. What have you two knuckleheads gone and done to get Seb into a state this time?"

"I'll go first," Sebastian managed to get in before anything Dean was going to say. Seb completely understood that he was most in the undeniable wrong in the situation, so he wanted to try and score some points before the tables got flipped. Besides, what Dean did to him versus what Seb did to his brother wasn't comparable in the same way. One would end up with his brother in jail at most, whereas the other was a stab or two away from actual murder. "Dean stabbed me in multiple places with that weird-ass jagged knife of his and gave me the most basic of first aid. I know he can do better with med stuff."

Annoyed, Dean's expression twisted a little before it snapped back to a more calm one - his usual one of calm with hints of malice. "He started from the end of it," he mentioned at the stern look his mother gave him. The young mob boss then locked eyes with his older brother, displeased by Sebastian's choice to start from the end of it all and skipping out on all of the important build up that was solely his fault: the framing, the infiltration, the manipulation. All of it just because Seb was jealous little brother was top dog in the area; Dean thought it ridiculous. "From the very start. I'll go this time. Sebastian decides to start framing me for a bunch of murders. Yeah, sure, I do kill people, but people that need to be killed so that the mob can reap the benefits. Not just random strangers where trace is specifically going back to me and not just to the mob in general. He was trying to mimic how I killed people, but he also did it wrong. He did extras like use poison that burned up the edges of the wounds and placed these random cards on the body. Even set up his own members in the police to watch over those crime scenes."

As a sigh left her, Sophia leaned her head into her hand. Her expression only read disappointment in the two as Dean kept talking. Although she had no plans to intervene with what her youngest was doing with his life, it wasn't exactly nice to hear the dirtiest parts of his job. It was revolting to her. She wished that she could have raised them a little better, as Sebastian had said, but there wasn't much she could do now that both of her youngest children had locked themselves into that career. Trying was an option, yet knew it was ultimately useless. Over phone calls, Dean talked a lot about his job. Without her want, she had learned a lot and had come to realised a mob boss dying or abandoning the mob would end up in a significant amount of mayhem - more than what would be caused if they stayed. The most she could do was hope that neither died and hope further that Dean would never give Sebastian a fatal injury.

"Sweetheart over here took pictures," Dean added in, indicating to Hunter with his thumb. "When we were going to get bits of evidence I pocketed analysed, Seb sent some of his lackeys to jump us. Head honcho of that little group got killed, so not the smartest move he made. It was a whole lot of that the entire time. He got a rat in with us, too. Gavin was his name. Sent this guy in to figure out what we were doing and when. And let me get started on the most annoying and last part-"

"I strapped bombs to Hunter," Sebastian interjected. "I thought he might've started liking her company or something, so I thought to use her. Kidnapped her, strapped bombs to her and sent her out saying all kinds of things when Dean showed up to get her back. It worked. He really wasn't happy about it and I would pay a pretty penny to get to see that expression again." A smirk spread across Sebastian's face and he crossed his arms, but made sure not to be too firm so that he wouldn't make his injuries worse. "He just doesn't seem the type to get all bothered about a trick like that for someone he was using because they were helpful, y'know, ma?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head. "Well, excuse me for not wanting to see some girl get blown up." He responded rather sarcastically.

Sebastian's smirk widened. "So you make all those worried and shocked faces for any girl in danger?" He questioned.

"Quit your teasing, Sebby. Scott will probably get on him later for even considering bringing her here," Sophia commented, which prompted the question of, "Scott's home?" from the two brothers. "Yes, he's home because he doesn't mind visiting the house. He's out for now. Anyway, don't change the subject no more, the pair of you. So... you tried messing with Dean for whatever reason and you nearly killed Seb over it?" The boys both nodded. It was the most accurate and shortest description of the situation - neither could deny the fact. "Again?" The boys nodded for a second time. "You two will never learn your lesson till one of you end up dead or get stuck with paying a hospital bill."

"I don't think a hospital bill would do it. Don't think dead would, either." Dean mused with a slight rub of his chin. He suspected both would go on, repeating their stupidity, until one of them were gone which would be when they found a new method of stupidity.

Clasping her hands together, Sophia looked in the direction of Hunter with an unnaturally happy look on her face. "Hunter, would you like to see some baby pictures of wittle ol' Dean here? He was-" Sophia was cut off by Dean standing up, the screech of the chair against the kitchen tiles being loud. A smile spread across Hunter's face, however she held back her laughter for the time being. She wanted to make sure that Dean would still give her and her brother the protection that he promised.

"You said you wanted me to do the laundry, right? I'll go do that for you now, ma. Why don't you patch Seb up a bit better than I did or something?" Dean suggested before promptly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Exiting the kitchen, he made his way through the claustrophobic corridors of the house. His exit was also the cause for Hunter to finally let out her laughter, doubting that Dean would hear it or hoping that he would assume it was from something else if heard. As her son had suggested, Sophia went through the drawers to find some first aid stuff and proceeded to sort out Seb's wounds with more effort and attention than Dean had given them. She was careful when applying any kind of pressure to his injuries, taking a pause if Sebastian showed any signs of pain or discomfort.

A yell from down the corridor resulted in Sophia completely stopping what she was doing, throwing her head back, pressing the base of her hand against her forehead and bursting out laughing. "God, I guess that means Scott isn't out right now." She was able to say through her laughter, which was what got Sebastian to join in on the laughter as well. Only being able to imagine what was going on that got a yell out of Dean, Hunter started up her laughter again and joined in with the other two Abbingtons. She had heard the odd story here or there about Dean's brothers from the man himself and he would always either speak highly of them or show obvious love for them through his words and expressions. Though, she had never heard much about the eldest, Scott. The best description of his character she ever got was that he was a charming weirdo. Those were the two words that allowed her to have some idea, albeit scarce and inchoate, of what was going on and was a passage for her laughter to mix in with the other two's.

Soon, harsh bangs rang down from the corridor, feet landing on the floor heavily and quickly. First, Dean was seen through the entrance of the kitchen. His first layer of shirt had been removed, his underlayer remaining, and a baggy pair of dress pants hanging loosely around his waist. He ran straight to the front door and had minimal hesitance in opening the door and darting out. Another man was seen passing the kitchen entrance. He shared the same brown hair as everybody else in the household and had a pair of dusty green eyes. Unlike the other Abbingtons, the way he had dressed himself was vastly more neat and professional: he wore a dark brown dress shirt with dark trousers, a black cravat and a yellow vest jacket. His hair was styled the neatest out of the other Abbingtons as well, hardly having a strand out of place and his hair hardly curtaining the left eye it was parted towards. However, his mannerisms completely dispelled the impression his appearance gave off. A large grin was carved into his face and he was chasing after Dean.

"The dump?" The man called to Sophia as he ran.

"Probably, but I'm sure you'll catch him before he gets there." Sophia answered.

"Nice. Be back in a sec, ma." The man bolted out of the front door.

Her laughter dying down, Hunter settled her gaze onto Sophia. "I'm guessing that's Scott?" Hunter said, feeling it wasn't worth mentioning as it was the likely case but also wanting to check. As confirmation, Sophia nodded her head with a sweeter expression spreading across her face. She watched the door for a few moments, then shooting Sebastian a look. In turn, Seb rolled up the sleeve of one arm slightly to show a watch which earned a nod from Sophia.

"Yeah, that's Scott alright. He's a great kid and he grew into a great man," Sophia started, leaning forward and propping her arm up on the table. She rested her head in the palm of her hand. "Always good with his brothers, always being nice to everyone. Always does what he thinks is best. Always tries to help out. I don't know how many envelopes of cash from him that I've refused because I don't wanna feel like I'm taking all of it from him. I'd say he's the normal one... but he's just that inch away - plus a couple hundred feet - from being the normal one, so he's just the rich weirdo." Hearing the front door open, a smirk made its way onto Sophia's face. "Just watch and listen."

Rather triumphantly, Scott could be seen walking down the narrow hallway with Dean thrown over his shoulder. The eldest brother's arm was across the back of Dean's knee joint, keeping it pressed against his chest while the torso of Dean rested on his shoulder. A semi-smug expression clung to Scott's features as he walked into the kitchen and closer to his second youngest brother. The youngest Abbington wore a bored expression on his face, not bothering to try to squirm out of his brother's arms, and was simply still with his arms crossed. The difference between Scott and Sebastian that almost forced Dean into different ways of dealing with them were their positions. From a business perspective, getting back at Sebastian for framing him for all kinds of things and possibly killing the guy was an excellent move. On the other hand, killing Scott was a terrible idea as it held no benefits for the mob and murdering someone high up in the world without any kind of reason would not end well. "How long did that take?" Scott asked.

"Five minutes," Sebastian replied, prompting for Scott to fist bump the air victoriously. It jerked the brunette he was carrying from the still position he was in, causing for him to grab at Scott's clothes to remain in the balanced spot he was in. Once Scott balanced himself, Dean let out a groan and allowed himself to take in what Sebastian had just said. "New record. You out-beat yourself by ten minutes, Scott. Good going. You know, you would be really good at-" Scott raised his hand, resulting in a sigh from Seb and stopping his sentence there. It was the same thing every time the three of them were together:  Scott would try to get Dean to do something, the youngest Abbington would ultimately run off, Sebastian would time it, Scott would retrieve Dean and Seb would tell the eldest that he would be really good at in and out jobs for the mob. Obviously, Scott would always decline. He was in a good position with his job and his life in general. For as much as he loved his brothers, he hadn't any interesting in joining one of the youngest two with their organised crime. The illegality of it didn't much suit his palette. 

With some force, Dean banged his head into his brother's back. Naturally, Scott's form tensed and he tried not to fall forwards. Successful in his attempt, he managed to keep the youthful Abbington in his grasp. "Awww, it's okay, Dean. Maybe you'll outrun me next time," Scott told him teasingly, close to the baby-talk voice Sophia had used previously. "We need to swap out the pants. They're too large for you."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Dean retorted as he crossed his arms. "I have a better idea, though. You wanna hear it? How about you let me put my own clothes back on, give me my knife back and let me do what I want? It's a pretty sweet deal. You don't chase me round the block and I don't get harassed. Who's losing here?"

Those words provided Scott with the perfect opening for him to voice his assumptions and plans. There wasn't a place that he found natural to insert them, so he was going to keep them to himself and let his plans be a surprise to the girl that Dean had brought along with him. However, that question allowed for him to address her and tease his brother further. He pointed to Hunter. "Her," Scott answered plainly, grinning. "What? Don't you want to take her out to dinner? That's harsh if you don't wanna. It would be the nice and gentlemanly thing to do."

Dean face-palmed and a frown formed on his face. It didn't take long for Hunter to catch on. Face reddening, her expression turned awkward to Scott voicing his intent. No wonder Dean didn't seem the happiest... as happy as his regular expression read when he was carried back into the house. She shook her head. "No. It's fine. He doesn't have to," Hunter chipped in. She didn't want to cause for trouble for Dean, but - at the same time - he didn't have to be so grumpy about everything. Her addition to the conversation was quickly overlooked with Dean's reply to his brother.

"Why do you do this whenever I talk to any girl ever? You know, funnily enough, I'm not interested in every single female that I lay eyes on." Dean stated with an exasperated tone, fed up with the way Scott's frequent intrusions into various aspects of his life.  "She was helping me with work stuff. Since she was involved with this time's reason I nearly killed Seb, she came with. What, from any of that, makes you think that I want to take her out to dinner?"

"Jeez, you're not even going to friend-zone her?" came Scott's response, Dean giving up right then and there. Winning was impossible with him and that also became very obvious to Hunter with that response. She came to the same conclusion as Dean: cut their losses and deal with everything after Scott had removed himself from the picture. "You'll be happier about it when you actually go get dinner. Let's go sort you out." Scott left the kitchen, taking Dean with him. Embarrassed, Hunter leaned back in her chair and finished up the water she was given to drink. A charming weirdo he was. She was sure that he could be charming when the situation was right, but would live in an area of odd when the situation wasn't right for it. On the bright side, for her, she wasn't the one being chased around or being forced into different outfits. Not in a million years would she expect for Kyle to do anything remotely similar to Scott and it was a blessing that she never realised that she had before.

For a while, it was quiet. Sophia went back to sorting out the rest of the injuries on Sebastian and there wasn't much noise from the two men that had left the kitchen. It was close to being peaceful, yet there was a slight feeling that something was going to start up again lingering. It didn't seem hard for something to start up between the Abbingtons and Hunter assumed that the two brothers that weren't present would be no different. At the same time, it seemed like routine for the brothers and - regardless of how annoying one may find something that the other was doing - enjoyed it. Even if not in the present, looking back on it seemed like it would be a joy. 

Finally, the silence was broken by a yelp that was presumably from Dean for a second time. Once again, rushing down the crowded corridors of the home echoed into the kitchen. This time it sounded like two sets of proper shoes instead of bare feet shortly followed by a set of shoes. Scott entered the kitchen first, Dean's jagged knife in his hand. He went around the table, stopping at the point of it that was furthest from the entryway.  Shortly after, Dean entered the kitchen. Generally, Scott's mission seemed complete: Dean was dressed in a white dressed shirt, navy blue dress pants, formal footwear and a grey vest jacket. His gaze went to the table and followed along it until he reached Scott. Great. Just great. Scott was going to make him dance around the table for who knows how long, unless he gave in. Dean didn't exactly want to have to make several rounds around the table to get back his knife nor did he want to agree to Scott's demands right then and there.

Dean crossed his arms and stared at his brother. He wasn't playing Scott's game. "Give me my knife back," Dean ordered, holding his hand out to receive the knife despite the length of the table.

"Don't you have an entire collection of knives? What's so special about this knife?" Scott questioned, fiddling with the knife in his hands. He would change which side was facing upwards, carefully run his thumb and index finger across the flat sides of the blades and tap the metal to see how dense it was. He went to try to lightly run his thumb across the sharp part of the blade one, yet cut his thumb on the jagged edge and instantly gave up with touching that part of the knife. "Is it your favourite one? That's cute, Dean."

"Yeah, it is my favourite one, actually." Dean answered with no shame in his voice or body language. He liked knives. So what? It was nobody else's problem other than his and he was allowed to have a favourite of something that he happened to collect. "It's also technically my work knife. It leaves that signature, chewed up look inside the wound 'cause of how it bends. Give it back, Scott."

"Are you going to let me neaten out your hair and do whatever I want? Within reason. I ain't gonna cut it or give you a buzz cut or dye it." He looked to Sophia. "Ma, you gotta a small band-aid I could use? I cut my thumb."

Letting out a sigh, Sophia nodded her head and found said item. "Of course you of all people would cut your thumb on a knife that you know is meant to be painful and cause injury," she muttered. Instead of simply handing the band-aid to Scott, she applied it for him before leaning against the kitchen counter to watch the rest of the scene play out.

"Obviously he would cut himself on it. He's an idiot in his spare time," Dean added.

"Don't talk about your brother that way. We don't have to rain the truth down on him all of the time," Sophia snapped at him.

"It's true, ma. Not my fault he's giving me good opportunities to tell him what's what. Anyway, no, Scott. My hair ain't even that messy. A couple more strands out of place than your hair doesn't mean that my hair is automatically messy. It's neat."

Scott didn't take a second to think about what to say: "You have a chunk of hair in the middle of your face and some by your left eye. I'm amazed you haven't poked your eyes out yet."

"Because my hair is neat. It don't have to be tucked behind my ear to not poke my eyes out. Give me my knife back. I need it."

"You can just use a different knife. You have plenty of them."

"The mob don't work like that, Scott. It's the only knife I have like that and I need it because of how it tears up the skin and muscle. It's the signature way people get killed."

"You can't need it that much. What? You gotta go do something right now that means you need this exact knife right now? "

"No, but it's mine. I need it for work and I want it now. Give it back."

"Can't want it that much if you're not gonna let me do your hair."

"It don't need doing. It's fine as it is."

"You don't need your knife right now. It's fine if I hold it."

Letting out a groan, Dean ran his hand through his hair. There was no winning. He could try going round the table, but Scott would just make him run circles about it. He could try going over the table, but Sophia would scold him for it. Under was an option, but the chairs got in the way and would only slow him down. Agreeing was the only way to get his knife back and Dean hated said fact. For as much as he thrived in other situations via his intelligence or own physical strength, home was the one place where it somehow didn't apply and it was its own kind of mystery to Dean. It was like all of that was stripped the second he was home and stereotypes of the youngest brother being the weakest took dominance in his body. Dean couldn't understand how it happened, as those things about himself didn't magically disappear, yet it did and it was the most annoying thing in situations like he found himself in at that exact moment.

In defeat, Dean slid his hand into the pockets of his trousers. "Fine. You can do whatever. Just give me my knife back," he sighed, seeing as he doubted he would get it back if he didn't submit to his brother. He doubted Scott would give it back if they were going to leave, either. If he didn't agree then, he could kiss his knife good bye. Blow it a kiss, seeing as it wouldn't be in his hands to kiss.

Scott went around the table to return the knife, Dean taking it back. He would have been happy about having it back, if it weren't for the fact that he had to give into his brother's demands and wishes to get it back. He looked at the part of the blade that Scott had cut his thumb on and furrowed his brows. Normally, he'd use his shirt to wipe it clean, however he was sure the eldest Abbington wouldn't mind attempting murder if he stained the white shirt with blood. He'd have to grab a tissue on the way out or while he was out to clean it up. Scott proceeded to grip onto Dean's ear to pull him along. "Ow, hey, Scott. Stop. I'm twenty three. I can make agreements and walk without my ear being an inch away from being pulled off." Scott ignored the statement, keeping his grip on Dean's ear as they exited the kitchen.

Yet again, there was silence once the two had left the kitchen. The feeling of peace was close to settling in, but Hunter couldn't deny the fact that she was amused. She was in her seat, smiling to herself. The way Dean was around his brothers felt like an incredibly different side to him. Though his attitude remained the same - acting tough, parading his mob around like a verbal weapon if he wanted something, being snark and sarcastic - he seemed so small compared to his brothers. Not literally. The way that neither brother took what Dean was saying seriously or the way Scott was teasing him just made him seem young. Dean was young and was the youngest of his family, yet she never got that vibe from him unless he was talking about his family. It was different.

For the third time that day, the banging of shoes against the wooden floor of the corridor could be heard reverberating throughout the house. It stopped in front of the kitchen, both Dean and Scott halting at the entrance at relatively the same time. Scott had slicked back Dean's hair and had added a navy blue suit jacket to the outfit. The collar of the dress shirt Dean was wearing was popped up and the expression on his face showed that he had completely given up. He was going to try and get away from his brother again, though it would only end up with him agreeing with what Scott wanted for one reason or another. It was easier to just let Scott do what he wanted and then get back at him later. Dean had already started thinking of a couple of snare traps he could set near Scott's bed. All he needed to do was get to a hardware store to get supplies and manage to get into their old, shared bedroom when Scott wasn't in there. The traps itself wouldn't be hard to set up at all, which would make the revenge so much better; it would be more trouble on Scott's end than on Dean's.

Scott wrapped a skinny piece of black fabric around the popped collar of Dean's shirt. Dean tilted his head up a bit, turning it to the side. "Why are you trying to put a bow on me?" Dean ultimately decided to question. Attempting to escape was futile, so he might as well ask why Scott kept adding more and more when Dean considered it done when Scott stole his knife.

"It's a neck tie," Scott corrected, tying the fabric into a small bow. "It looks nice."

"It's a bow," Dean insisted. "And it's suffocating." Dressing up was already something Dean wasn't that fond of. Why did he need to dress up for other people or for certain occasions? He never thought that he needed to. If he wanted to make a first impression, he was just going to wear what he liked to wear. He already mentally decided he was better than practically anyone he would meet, therefore found dressing up redundant. The multiple layers that Scott went with was also uncomfortable for him. A jacket on top of a vest jacket on top of a shirt. The shirt wasn't untucked, either, the collar was buttoned all the way up and now something was being tied around his neck. It'd be a miracle if he didn't pass out from a lack of air.

Once Scott had finished tying the neck tie, he forced some money into Dean's hand before giving his younger brother a pat on the back. "Hey, Hunter, let's go before he starts forcing you into something." Nodding her head, Hunter got out of her seat and followed Dean to the front door.

"Go somewhere nice!" Scott called as they exited the house, Dean rolling his eyes.

He waited until they were out of the view of any window on the house, immediately undoing the neck tie when positive his brother wouldn't see him. He undid the top button of his shirt, removed the suit jacket, undid the vest jacket buttons and untucked his shirt to try and reach a better level of comfort. Dean hooked two fingers on the collar of the jacket, then slinging it over his shoulder. As the two walked, he was silent and his calmer expression held hints of grumpiness over regular hints of malice. Such a pain for what was meant to be a trip to sort out Sebastian. It was ritualistic for the two youngest to head back home whenever one of them nearly killed each other, it normally being Dean having nearly killed Sebastian. It was their way of keeping their mother informed of what was going on and also their way of showing that they hadn't actually killed each other. If one of them died and the other didn't bring them home, it was safe to assume that they died of a cause that wasn't each other. Although he was happy to see Scott, he was such a pain if he was around anybody of the female species.

"Jeez, can't you be a little more positive?" Hunter asked. She got that what Scott was doing would be bothersome to him, but he didn't have to be so grumpy about it. He didn't have to be a pain in general. When Sophia asked who she was, he could have just said 'that's Hunter'. He didn't have to take the extra effort to correct her use of 'friend'.  It seemed like an unnecessary effort for a question that only needed two words as an answer. Dean waved a dismissive hand to her question, prompting Hunter to let out a small sigh. He was being so much more childish than normal. Since they got to his old home, he was being more childish. Her guess was that the setting was infectious, along with being treated more like a child from his family members. "Hey, Dean." She looked up at Dean, who quirked his eyebrow up a little. "Even if you don't see me as one, I certainly see you as a friend."

"Yeah, I know." Dean replied. "There's not a lot I can do with that information, Hunter. I'm a busy guy, y'know? I wouldn't have time for you throughout all of this if you weren't helping me out with work stuff. Seb's family, but it was ultimately all work stuff at the end of the day."

"I'm sure you can make the time," Hunter told him.

"Eh, probably. But I gotta be free for whatever happens at the drop of the hat, so it's not like I can have said time for certain." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, then looking to the money that was provided to him by Scott. "We're not gonna get dinner, by the way. We're going to the hardware store, so I can get some revenge on Scott."

"What's the plan?"

"Snares. I'm gonna put a whole lotta snares by his bed. He's staying with ma, so it'd be weird for what he's like to not sleep in the house. If I hide the rope well enough - which shouldn't be hard - then he'll walk into a snare and I got something to make up for how annoying he is."

-

Legit tho
unlike the last time i just couldnt think of small ideas to draw like an inuyasha au
I just got short story ideas so yeeeeet thats whats a happenin

Five was in his kitchen, having just finished making his dinner. He was about to take it to the table to eat, yet paused when he heard his front door open. He hadn't locked it, planning on doing so later. Given the isolation of his house and how it was easy to miss if walking past, he already concluded that it couldn't be some random robber that was nearby. It was too early for people to start sweeping out homes and he knew for a fact that he hadn't been stalked for the location of his house to be found, so his best guess was that it was somebody he knew and somebody who knew where he lived. As far as he was concerned, the only person that he would logically assume would come to visit him was dead, due to his stupidity and interest in dangerous experiments. That was Five's personal summary of what had happened, anyway. The next logical option was someone with relations to said dead person or someone from work. Not the worst options out there. He walked out into the hallway.

Without warning, a fist made contact with Five's face the second he stepped out into the hallway. He tapped the tips of his fingers lightly against his cupid's bow, then looking at them. A nose bleed. A hard punch. It had been a while since he had experienced something like that. He looked to who was in front of him; his expression retained the calm smile it regularly had. "You haven't been that mad ever since college," Five commented, allowing for the blood to flow from his nose instead of cleaning it up. He could deal with it later.

In front of him stood Joseph, rage smeared across his face and staining the crevasses. He had lost his glasses along the way, naturally making his vision more blurred but that was something he would deal with later. His appearance had a more dishevelled look to it, yet that was another thing he paid no mind to in that exact moment. The thing that was plaguing his mind at that moment was his friend. Five wouldn't be able to deny that - Joseph heard the guy concede to that title over a decade ago. After all that time of knowing Five, he expected - at a bare minimum - to not be left for dead in a pocket dimension. They worked together on experiments, they hung out with each other, they knew plenty about each other and that didn't even get thrown away through a window: it was thrown away without being touched, zero involved effort. That had to be the part that itched at Joseph the most. So much time into a friendship that didn't have the slightest amount of effort put into it when one of them were going to die. It was like a boring book materialised, forgotten after it was read.

"You're a piece of shit," was the first thing that left Joseph's mouth. That time around, he didn't see how his disbelief and anger could be proven pointless. He didn't see how he could be told that it was his fault for being lulled into a false sense of security in their friendship that time around. "I can't believe this. I thought we were actually friends. You left me there to die. I can't believe that you left the second that things got a little too risky. What am I saying? I can believe you did that, but I can't believe you left me there for dead. After all this time, I thought you might actually do something to help me."

Five took in Joseph's word, having always guessed they would get into an argument about something at some point again. What he wasn't expecting was for it to be after Joseph had somehow managed to evade death, however the how wasn't much of his problem. His problem at that moment was Joseph. "You're placing a lot into a friendship for someone who was willing to torture children he acted as a father figure for," Five mused, rubbing his chin a little. He had essentially catalogued various responses to Joseph if they were to get into an argument, having good guesses of what said arguments would be about. Although he took mental notes of what he thought were the most logical response, Five also knew that the argument wouldn't taper off. It seemed more of an emotional battle to Joseph.

Joseph took a step closer to Five. "That's different," he stated, that being a point he couldn't think of arguing then. The best response he could to justify it into something humane would be the fact that he was using a memory eraser, but he was positive that Five would go on to say that Joseph should use the device on himself if that was the thing that separated humane an inhumane. All he could do to avoid getting shot down so quickly would be to overlook it. "I thought you were my friend, Five."

"We are." Slipping his hands into his pockets, Five smiled. They were going to be there for a while, or the argument was going to extend over several days. "But I remember making something very clear as well: you shouldn't expect me to act like a friend. If I recall correctly, I'm sure I said that if you and a book were to fall off a cliff, I'd take the book, read it and smile as you fell. In fact, I'm sure you said that you didn't care that's how I would behave and would have punched me if I acted differently under the guise of a 'friend'."

To that, Joseph paused. It rung bells too loudly in his head. That conversation did happen and he didn't have anything against that. Five wasn't the type to help someone, especially if it endangered him or went against his interests, and that was a trait that Five was sure to make obvious to Joseph. What Five had said sounded excessive at the time, even more so for college students, and pointless. When applied to the current situation, it sounded planned out to Joseph like Five was planning for them to have another argument about the topic of friendship or had predicted it years in advanced. Joseph decided it was the latter, as planning for an inconvenience that definitely had zero upsides didn't seem like something that Five would do. He had come into the situation with the heavy belief that there was no possible way for anything to be said in return, yet there seemed to be an abundance. Some friend, doing and saying things to guard himself from being wrong in a dispute and leaving him to die in a pocket dimension where no one could retrieve his body from.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again." Joseph shoved Five back a bit by the shoulder. "This whole thing you're doing, making yourself unlikable, inhuman, remaining detached. It's stupid and it's going to bite you in the ass one day."

"I know it will. I've predicted somewhere around my mid-thirties to my fifties. It could be any day now. If it makes you feel better, feel free to play a less than respectable song at my funeral."

"You're a conceited dickhead. I don't care what you predicted. I don't care about your funeral. That isn't what this is about. Being a half-decent friend doesn't mean that you'll suddenly despise all the experiments you do in your spare time, Zabel. It's some stupid mentality that you made up and it's clearly not helping with anything. I don't need to do experiments with you; I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you ever again."

"You're the one that came here," Five pointed out, certainly not helping Joseph feel any better about what had happened with that statement. Joseph gave Five the finger before turning on his heel, walking down the hallway and towards his exit. As he headed to the exit, Joseph decided to sort out his appearance a bit. He couldn't bump into people looking like his bomb shelter wasn't very effective at protecting him from explosives. When he left, Joseph slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't want to see Five after all of that. The guy could never allow himself to be in the objective wrong of a situation. He could never allow for himself to be wrong and sort out a situation from there. Instead, he took being subjectively wrong as a trophy for it technically made people being mad at him unreasonable. It annoyed Joseph that it was like that.

Jack, Kyle and Hunter stood near the entrance of Joseph's lab, keeping clear of the doorway. It wasn't that they didn't want to see Joseph, but he clearly needed space since he came back and they decided to give it to him. They hadn't really seen Joseph mad before. Patient and fun were words that would first come to mind when going to describe Joseph and they thought that the attitude suited him well. Seeing him angered felt like a sort of dissonance, a feeling of discomfort knotting their stomachs. To them, it didn't feel like him nor did they particularly think that it suited him well.

"Is Joseph okay?" Hunter asked. The answer was obviously no, but meant it more to mean if Jack knew why Joseph was upset, seeing as he was one of the closest people to Joseph that she knew.

Uncertain, Jack scratched the back of his head. "I don't know," he said, despite 'no' being the correct answer. He didn't know why Joseph wasn't being his usual self. It had crossed his mind to ask several times, however decided each time that it was better to give Joseph some space. "He hasn't said anything about it. I didn't even know he could be like that, so I'm at a complete loss at what could be on his mind."

That was then the trio spotted Five approaching, unsure of what to say to that man. He could be civil on the surface, sure, but they were fully aware of the kind of experiments that Five liked to dabble in. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling to be around him, more so when they didn't have to. His sadistic behaviours, although not birthed from any genuine sadism, were enough to make anyone uncomfortable from the mere knowledge of them. A wave of relief washed over the three when they were completely ignored by Five, barely being in his field of vision for more than a few seconds. Alternatively, Five set his sights on the entrance to Joseph's lab. He first knocked as a warning to the fact that he was coming in, not waiting for a response before walking inside. The three started to wonder if he knew about what was going on. They weren't left to wonder for long.

"What are you doing here? I told you I didn't want to see you ever again!" The yell from Joseph instantly answered all of their questions. What happened? Five happened. What was Five doing there? Either fixing it or making it worse - they wouldn't be able to tell until it was all over. The only thing left, which they doubted they would find out any time soon, were the specifics of the situation.

Kyle let out a sigh, then saying, "There's the answer to our mystery."

It had been a few days since the incident and the subsequent argument, though Joseph still hadn't cooled off from what had happened, clearly. It was years of friendship thrown down the drain in the worst way possible. Who would be mad for less than a day about that? It was a massive thing to happen to anybody. Joseph knew he had every right to be mad about it and his anger was only furthered given the initial way that Five had reacted. He had a feeling that Five came to talk him down from his anger, as well: tell him that his anger was irrational, 'prove' that what he had done was a logical choice or reference things said before as a way to show he technically did anything wrong. Joseph didn't want to be around that. Joseph didn't want to deal with Five anymore if all that man was going to was think of himself first and just not... care. He didn't care if Five brought up things from the one and only time Five had properly addressed the whole friend. That was years ago. Joseph had every right to have believed that would help each other out when they needed it. Things normally changed in a time span of a decade.

Five retained his usual expression as he studied Joseph for a brief moment, taking in his body language. Mad was an obvious, so was betrayal. He couldn't deal with the dispute in the way he would prefer and he was unsure of the angle that he was going to tackle the situation with. Not once before had Five thought to solve an argument with what was the easiest option for most people, since he never thought he would genuinely mean it. He didn't care if he lied or not, yet it always was a sentiment to him that he felt like that he should actually mean. Using it carelessly and deceitfully doomed its usage to failure. He exhaled deeply, knowing he needed to hurry up and answer Joseph before he aggravated him more.

"...I'm sorry," he finally said, the words tasting weird on his tongue. It wasn't like he was against apologising as a concept, but his lack of use of the word made them feel foreign from his mouth. It meant he didn't get into fights enough or he didn't apologise for things he should enough. Five concluded that it was a mix of both.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Joseph crossed his arms. "What?" He questioned. It was the last thing he was expecting, unless it was some kind of ploy to get him to hang around Five again to keep him company. A fake apology was entirely believable to Joseph; Five's regular approach was what Joseph considered more likely to happen and had planned to happen. If it weren't for the word 'sorry', Joseph had about zero interest in listening to what Five had to say and would happily chuck the man out of his lab as he was an unwanted presence. An apology prompted him to actually listen, although he knew he had to pay attention to even the tiniest changes in pitch in Five's voice to decide whether or not the apology would turn out sincere.

Setting his gaze on the floor, Five clasped his hands together and took a second to consider his words. He never liked expressing his feelings too much. "I'm sorry." He returned his eyes to Joseph. If that didn't work on its own, then he would have to delve in further. He knew that would be the likely case, but he wanted to try and avoid it.

"Is that it? What do you want? A cookie because the word sorry has entered your vocabulary? Get out of my lab."

"I'm sorry," he repeated for the third time, leaning forward slightly on his toes before placing his feet back flat against the ground. He had to say more than that. Lovely. "For ditching you under the assumption that you would die back there. You're entirely right. Being a half-decent friend doesn't instantly make me terrible about all of the experiments I do. It was wrong of me to leave without even trying to help you. We're friends and I should make some kind of effort when it counts. Leaving you for death was one of the worst choices I've probably ever made and not because you ended up living to chew me out about it. Even if I convinced myself I didn't care about your permanent absence, it would be a lie hard to live through. Your death wouldn't be nice on my conscious alone, but the addition of me knowing I could have done something to keep my friend alive would be a heavy weight. I'm sorry that I left you to die and then try to convince you that it was completely fine to do so."

Joseph had to take a few moments to interpret what Five had said. It wasn't like the words were hard to understand; it was the fact that Joseph hadn't picked up on anything that would show Five as being dishonest in what he was saying. It was a sincere apology. At the same time, he was still incredibly mad. Nobody could spout out some words after leaving somewhere in a place that they would likely die in voluntarily. Even if it was sincere, did Five mean it? Did that mean he was going to fix up his act or did it mean his actions weren't the best, despite him being able to happily repeat them in the future? He wasn't going to even walk on the street parallel to Five because he didn't want to deal with the guy anymore if he wasn't going to put in any effort. It was a waste of his time to let Five walk all over him and too much effort on his own end to be friends with someone that simply was going to never try.

He wasn't having just that. "If you're truly sorry," Joseph started. "Do whatever you can to fix what you've done. Prove it to me that you actually regret your actions, you heartless bastard."

Five released a sigh. It wasn't going to be easy. He knew trying to fix the situation wasn't going to be easy, but that didn't stop him from hoping. It wasn't normal for Five to get into arguments where he found it difficult to recover with words, so he wasn't too sure what to do to prove that he actually regretted his actions. "Alright." But he wasn't going to give up immediately because it got a little hard. He could manage and it was his friend. He actually needed to try for once after all their years of knowing each other. "What are you doing right now, as in before I got here? I was thinking that we could could head to a coffee shop."

"Really? A coffee shop? Your big solution is a coffee shop?"

"It's a place to start." It was easier to work his way up from something small than to think of something big that he could do right on the spot. "It might not be the best, but it is a place to start and the place I've decided to start at. I'll figure some more things out down the line. I'll make that a promise, if it gives you any more faith in me to try and prove that I'm sorry for what I did."

A small groan left Joseph. Then again, what was he really expecting from Five? He doubted that the guy to could hold a proper relationship with anybody in his life, even if he was trying. The things that he did to Shiromi's kid was a very good example of that to Joseph - Five wasn't good at trying to be decent to the people he cared about in his life. Remembering what he was doing to Shiromi's kid also diminished his faith in Five a bit further, however he hadn't seen Five go out of his way to prepare for when Shiromi finally found out and he never seemed to think about to apologising to her. Deciding to agree with what Joseph said, he followed Five out of the lab.