the joke is on us, kid
|Forces at work pulled the outlier of mistakes together. Making the morning a large kerfuffle. The objects of shared belongings became the last to stitch this line of time sutured, keeping the first of its anomaly babbling in a one sided conversation. Left alone to watch over a curious toddler who was walking from a circle of blocks with both a plush fox and a recyclable plastic toy brick, his rapid paced thoughts were left to wander as if working out a barrage of problems. Drool marked the side of the baby's mouth and the rows of small teeth shown at a mischievous grin. Slade feared being bitten again, or worse, his shirt turned into a chew rag. Raw were the imbalance of things while left to their own devices. To himself he groaned. Internally growled at the stalling done in search for clarity in what was early of day. Wanting words to mean something and worth all the troubles of being ghosted on when it was that moment of the month where world’s were flipped upside down.|
The window to leave before she woke up, closed faster than anticipated. Kicking himself mentally for not doing so, to wait on what was a small pearl of hope. Skipping out in the middle of the night and ride off into the plundering reaches of trouble, felt far more convenient than being stuck with a kid he had little idea on how to keep from injuring himself. Just when a brick flew at Slade, his quickened reflexes caught the piece before it connected with his head. Foul was the expression that took over, suspended in its disapproval of flying toys in his direction. Slade eyed the child, following the direction his eyes went. Having the sense to know his next moves because as much toddlers were unpredictable, there was an inherent instinct to know the child's behavior. Small hands clapped, dropping his plush. Germ infested with God knows how many strands of nasty bacteria, held out in a motion of wanting to play.
Repeated in a crescendo, Slade winced at the pitch shrill of a scream that was from excitement than actual fear. He was supposed to be feared, not giggled in the face by a small child. The memory of his own seeds from a reality split from the one stuck in, didn’t feel familiar. Being the hardest on two boys and the last of the line when she was past the age of most development. He didn’t remember the first thing other than instill the pillars of survival and tough love into his parenting style. But the life created here wasn’t one fit for the decision that almost sent him packing this morning. He was ready, willing to call it quits, despite any sound intent on defining the inclusion of not only Isla, but the stubborn and hard press, Dinah into the mix. He should have cut it off a long time ago instead of buying into the cycle of being left alone after a night of fucking for sake of having a warm body to escape to.
The least of which mattered when he was left anyhow, to make sense of the mess that was blowing holes in everything worth identifying as real or elaborately crafted to believe otherwise. It tapped into the nerve of disappointment, borderline anger, and yet the baby who was vying for Slade's attention, just knew him and Dinah as Mamba and Dada. If he had to guess, 15 months of a whole human was standing and walking along with decent enough balance not to fall on his rear. He then ran with impatience, crashing into the brick holding hand trying to grab it. The grip wasn’t as strong but quick to go for the prize. Slade poised him to stop and promptly swept the kid with one arm and lifting him as if he weighed nothing. Lifting a few tons was more pressing but the cargo was too precious to toss around. The giggles intensified on the lift off like a rocket ship as he held him with some care. Not out of obligation, but because it felt…familiar.
Familiar yet far stretched away from any life he cared of wanting. The resemblance was undeniable, belonging to the tree of a Wilson just as much as it were of part of the branches of a Castiel. The slob's life he inhabited all day everyday didn’t want the responsibility or at least that was the recollection before getting hot and heavy with a friend for all of these years. No ending in sight until someone had to press the break or the eject button. His hand was on it. It had been before the sun came up and then the objects of a shared existence got clearer from a narrow view finder. Starting with the kid, who knew nothing of the fabric of time lapsed in a way to mask a blurred reality, to the pictures splattered around the house, even the band’s of metal indicating a union of sorts. He had the image of Nate and Isla joined at the hip of a renewal ceremony, burning at what he knew.
The marrying hype wasn’t an ideal of Nathan but Slade was there before. A family man at heart, only he lacked the tools for its success. Ultimately failing when honest efforts were in place. Ruining lives right down the familial line, one directive manipulation at a time. All he reclaimed was the complications of family unfolding in ways that were flightendly paralleled to this life. As the veil was twisted and starting to shred the fabric of an era, he laughed. Disturbed to the depths of his gut, his face twisted in hilarity. The child mistaken it as a fun time. Not conscious enough to the fact that his father was cracking while being flown in the air. Mixed laughs of Slade’s and the baby’s infectious laughter, wove into the direct madness that the dual but connected personas shared. Disgruntled, confused, and ripe for being driven to a place of carelessness, was halted in place. He collected the little guy, holding him outward until he put him down on his own two. Falling on his bum was inevitable, too dizzy to remain stable. He wasn’t left on his own, when Slade got on the floor. Giving in by joining the baby, to escape the oversight that would become corrected or remain as it was meant to be.