Perfect Match
Perfect Match
A Supernatural story by Jennie @DeanIsntFine
I love you both, too. So much.
— Samantha Smith (@SamSmithTweets) August 26, 2020
💗🔥💗🙏🏼
(Also, now I‘m really wishing I’d had the opportunity to dress you in matching outfits as children.)
Dean tugged at the starched collar on his boldly striped Healthtex polo shirt, wincing.
He was getting too old for this junk.
With his left hand, he held on loosely to the side of the Piggly Wiggly shopping cart. His right hand snaked into the pocket of his crisp, navy blue OshKosh corduroy overalls to fiddle with the illicit treasure that lay within.
A small box of Diamond strike-anywhere matches.
Dean knew his mom would kill him if she found out he had these. But how could he resist? They were just lying there in the store parking lot, like two millimeters away from a slush puddle that surely would have rendered them completely useless!
He’d stealthily grabbed up the box while Mary was struggling with Sammy’s car seat, and stuffed it into his pocket, where it now lay nestled alongside a green army man and a roll with one Life Saver left.
Now, inside the store, safely strapped into the child seat on the cart, 2-year-old Sammy wriggled and lunged for the brightly colored produce. “Carrot! Kale!” the toddler shouted, so loudly that Mary’d had to shush him more than once.
Sam’s outfit was a carbon copy of Dean’s. The bigger boy rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe his mom was still dressing them alike. Sheesh. He was 6 now, for Pete’s sake! And in kindergarten! Dad had taken the training wheels off his bike just last week! And he almost could ride it without help!
He was getting there… had the bruises and gravel-rash to prove it, but he was getting there.
As the three Winchesters trundled through the produce department, the chart-topper “Like a Virgin” was piping in over the tinny speakers, and Mary was bouncing her hips to the beat.
They rounded a corner and spied a towering display of cases of that brand-new elixir that Dean had been dying to try: Cherry Coke.
“MOM!” Dean cried, the matches in his pocket forgotten, for the moment. “Can we get some? Can we? Pleeeeeeeeeease?”
Mary deployed her best Magical Mom Words -- “We’ll see” -- and headed for the meat department at the back of the store. Dean, for his part, huffed and sulked. He knew too well what “we’ll see” meant.
Mary pushed the cart ahead about two paces, then stiffened. When Dean looked up, he saw his mom grow tense and alert.
She was eyeing some weird guy leaning over the meat case. He was twitching, and sniffing at the packages of raw ground chuck. Dean went wide-eyed as he watched the guy grab a package, claw at the plastic film, and start gobbling the meat raw.
Then the crazy guy looked up, all hungry red mouth and hungry red eyes, and lunged toward Dean and Sammy!
Mary positioned herself between her boys and the threat. Dean watched, stunned, as she shoved the guy through the swinging door that led behind the meat counter. He crashed into a stack of cardboard boxes and stayed down. For now.
Mary grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid off an aisle endcap full of briquettes and other barbecue accessories -- on display a little early, considering the mid-March cold snap. She muttered, “Rugaru, a damn rugaru?” and looked around frantically. “Matches, matches, where the hell are the matches?!”
Dean snapped out of his fog and yelled, “Mom!”, reaching into his pocket. He tossed the pack of matches to her. A perfect strike. Good thing he and Dad had been practicing after school in the back yard.
Mary looked down at her hand, surprised and more than a little annoyed that her 6-year-old just happened to have a box of Diamond strike-anywheres in his pocket, at the ready. But she smiled, and winked.
“Thanks, buddy. Now, take the cart and your brother and go hide behind the big stack of Cherry Cokes. And remember: No matter what you hear, I’m fine. Watch out for Sammy. Go!”
Dean turned and, with a zip-zop of corduroy, hustled the cart and Sammy to safety. His baby brother had barely looked up, nose buried in his Mini Myths board book.
Mary disappeared through the swinging door. There were sounds of a struggle, and a bright whoosh of flame.
Whoa, Dean thought as he peeked out from his hiding spot behind the cases of soda. There’d be lots of questions over meatloaf tonight.
I loved this the first time I read it and i love it even more now!
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