Like Father, Like Son

By Carol M.

Summary: Bobby receives a call from a very drunk Dean on Father's Day

Disclaimer: Don't own them, only love them

Timeline: Takes place anytime after the events of My Time of Dying…could be Season 2, 3, 4 or 5, doesn't matter

Little snippet in celebration of Father's Day. Enjoy!

It was in Bobby Singer's experience that when the phone rang anytime after midnight, something bad had probably happened. Especially when it rang past the courteous five rings and went into incessant, cloying ringing designed to wake up a person from a sound sleep. That usually meant that something really bad had probably happened.

Bobby's hand reached for the phone, his heart pounding fearfully in his mind, but not in actuality because after so many late night bad phone calls in his life, he and his heart just couldn't muster up the excitement anymore.

"This better be freakin' good," Bobby said into the phone, wiping at tired eyes.

"Bobby?"

It was Dean, sounding drunk and impossibly emotional, like maybe he'd been crying. Bobby's heart began to thump in dread, this time for real.

"What is it, son? Are you hurt? Is Sam okay?"

Dean sucked up a barrel full of snot into his nose. "Yeah, we're good."

Bobby's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Then what the hell you calling me so late for? You're not in jail, are you?"

"Not yet, man. Not yet."

"What is it, boy?" Bobby asked, the anticipation palpable in his chest as his heart continued to thrum rapidly.

There was a pause and he heard Dean inhale sharply. "I ah…well…I was thinking…and…"

"Ah hell, you thinking is never a good thing."

"Yeah, well…I guess I just wanted to say…ah…Bobby…it's Father's Day, you know and I just wanted to call and…ah…say…well…thanks for being a good dad to me and Sammy."

Bobby's heart skipped a beat. "How much you have to drink Dean?"

"Lot more than Sam. He passed out hours ago," Dean said, sniffling again into the phone. "Anyway…Bobby…thanks for…you know…everything."

Bobby swallowed past a painful lump in his throat, his heart pumping like he was running a marathon. "You're not gonna send me some god awful tie, are you?"

"Already in the mail, man. It's got ducks on it."

"How sweet. Course, I haven't actually owned a suit since 1988."

"I told Sam you'd rather have a machete, but he insisted. Sentimental little bastard."

"Yeah, your brother's a real softie."

"It's terrible."

There was an awkward silence then, punctuated only by the sound of Dean definitely not fighting a sob on the other end of the line.

"So, you getting your ass in bed now, boy? You sound like you could use some shuteye."

"Yeah. For sure, man. Rough couple of days."

"Good, because if you ring this phone again, I'm going to use that duck tie to strangle you."

"Love you too, Bobby."

"You too, son," said Bobby, his heart ready to explode. "Thanks for calling."

The phone went dead on the other end. After a moment, Bobby hung up and blew out a deep breath, trying to slow down the pouncing in his chest.

Damn kid.

That's All Folks!