1I originally planned for this to be a one-shot, but I've decided to make this a series of one-shots all focused around Dean's drinking in some way.
Father
He watches his father; one drink. Two drinks. Three drinks. His words become shorter and his tone more crisp-leaving an unintentional fresh slap on the young boy's heart. He is grateful that his brother his in the other room, too busy with his latest book to hear the slurred words of their father.
Each night he tells his brother not to worry, that dad was just really tired from the job so he went to bed early and that they should do the same. Once his brother has said his prayers and falls asleep, Dean creeps into the living room and gathers up all the bottles and cans that hide the dingy, green rug they had stolen from an abandoned house. He carries as much as his thin, little arms can hold and takes them out back to hide his father's problem amongst the thick trees and chirping crickets. He has to make three trips before the rug is free of debris. Once the evidence is gone, he fills up a paper cup with water and takes two pills that his dad would give him after he'd get into a fight, and leaves them next to wherever his father made his bed that night. Once he is sure his father is breathing and his head is turned to the side, the little boy sneaks back into his room and settles himself on the floor, next to the single bed that his smaller brother occupies each night. The boy closes his eyes and grips his hands together tight.
"Please help dad, mom. He needs you."
Dean lets himself relax and repeats his promise to himself until he slips away into sleep: I will never drink.
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