Dean's Life

True

Dean's pov

"Dean!" Amy exclaimed, frowning at me, apparently dissatisfied with my brilliant suggestion on how to get through to Alex.

"Think about it," I said. "Take him home, I've got to get back to work now." I just saw Sheriff Crowley pull into his parking space. "We will discuss this further when I get home from work. No exceptions," I stated firmly, giving both Amy and Alex my signature no-nonsense look.

Amy swallowed hard.

"Alright, fine. We will finish this conversation later," Amy replied sharply. Taking a long, slow deep breath, she tried to center herself. "To be honest, I could use some time to calm down. I'm so furious with you right now, Alex, I can't even think straight. Let's go!" she snapped at her son, heading briskly toward the door.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid old man Crowley for the remainder of my shift since I went out on patrol again after Amy and Alex left. As an added bonus, I successfully convinced Cass that it was his job as the rookie officer to complete my paperwork as well as his, before the end of our shift. Heading home, I thought about the best way to persuade Amy to let me discipline Alex.

Unfortunately, as I pulled into the driveway, I realized the best argument I had come up with involved me getting her tipsy and seducing her with my sexy dance. While that was a seemingly solid plan, it wouldn't hurt to have a backup, just in case. Although, it really is a foolproof plan. I mean look at me I thought, smiling at the handsome mug staring back at me in the rearview mirror.

I was so enamored with myself, I didn't even notice Amy had pulled in behind me until she scared the Hell out of me as she tapped on my window.

"Quit grinning at yourself like an idiot and help me with the groceries, Romeo."

"Yes ma'am," I replied sheepishly, now seriously regretting not having a plan b to fall back on.

"ALEX!" she shouted from the kitchen entryway, as soon as we walked through the door.

"WHAT?" he yelled back, in an extremely snotty-ass tone. One I could easily erase with the aid of my thick leather belt.

"Get your butt down here and help with the groceries!" Amy shouted in reply.

After making two more trips to the car, Amy's oldest finally appeared in the kitchen.

"Why do I always gotta do it?" he asked his mother. "Why can't Drew ever help?" he grumped.

"Because he's four, genius," Amy retorted, matching her teenage son's snide tone.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "It's not my fault he's a baby."

Sighing in exasperation, Amy replied, "Just go help Dean with the rest of the bags while I start putting things away, would you? There's only like two bags left since you took forever to get down here."

"Uggghh," he complained with great effort, like we were asking the world of him. "What kind of cop can't even carry in two bags of groceries?" I heard him mumble, as he reluctantly followed me out to the car.

Biting my tongue, I let it go. Bigger fish to fry, Dean, I convinced myself.

Once we brought the last of the bags inside, he bitched, "There, I helped bring in all the stupid groceries. Can I go now?" Without even waiting for permission, he started heading back upstairs.

"Yes, you may go," Amy shouted, since he was already out of view. "Don't forget, after dinner we're going to have our talk about what happened today," she called out, to no one apparently, since she never got a response. Sighing defeatedly, she looked at me and confided, "I just don't know what to do with him anymore."