Bobby sat on the couch, turning on the old television he kept in his living room. He looked down at his phone on the table, and after a moment's hesitation, he decided to turn it off. The boys could survive without him for one night.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey beside him, and poured it into a glass, before changing the channel. He couldn't remember when the last time he had relaxed like this was- after the apocalypse, after Dick Roman, after all the boys' crap that they had to get sorted out between them and of course, he had to intervene on- it was safe to say he deserved this.

He took a sip from his glass, settling in with a comfortable sigh, and suddenly, there was a knock on his door. Bobby rolled his eyes. "Balls," he muttered, before heaving himself up and over to the door. "You idjits tryin' to suck me dry, or what?" he asked irritably through the door, and swung it open.

But it wasn't Sam and Dean. "Jody?" Bobby asked, a little startled, then he looked a little sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I... thought you were the boys." Jody smiled. "Yeah, I bet. They couldn't go a day without your wisdom, Bobby Singer." Bobby grinned slightly, and cleared his throat.

"Uh, whatchyou doing around here? Don't you got some sheriff business to do?" Jody scowled playfully. "Hey, even I'm allowed to have some time off! I'm a human to, you know!" Bobby stuttered at this. "I- sorry, I meant-" "It's fine, Bobby," Jody smiled, patting his cheek, "Now, you gonna let me in, or am I playing nicky nine doors?"

Bobby nodded, and removed his arm from the door frame, which Jody had just ducked under. He closed the door, and scratched his head as she set some bags down on his counter.

She turned. "Stop staring at me like I'm an alien or something! I'm not- do your holy water test, I swear- I was passing through town for a job, and thought I'd come say hi!" Bobby nodded again. "Well... hi." Jody laughed, and unpacked some bottles of beer, getting some cobbler out to.

Bobby frowned. "You movin' in here, Mills?" Jody raised a sassy eyebrow over to him. "You got anything other than take out and alcohol in your fridge, Singer?" Bobby didn't answer, as he had no legitimate comeback. He turned back around, and got out the DVD he was going to watch.

"Is that a DVD?" Jody called over, and Bobby sighed. "Yes, it is. Got a problem with it?" "Sam sure would. You're so outdated, you might as well be watching it on VHS!" Bobby grumbled as he discreetly hid his other collection of VHS tapes.

Jody laughed from the kitchen, where she was beginning to wash vegetables. "You know I'm only kidding. Sometimes you need the golden oldies, right?" "What are you making?" he asked with another frown. "Pot pie. 'You got a problem with it?'" she asked, imitating Bobby's voice. Bobby cracked a smile at this.

"Course not. I haven't had a good home cooked meal in ages," the hunter answered, going over to join her. "I figured as much," she said, "I could use some help over here." Bobby started chopping things, not doing a very good job.

About an hour later, Bobby set his plate down. "That was great," he commented, raising his eyebrows over at Jody, who was seated next to him on the couch. "You sure can cook." She smiled, stealing some of what little leftovers he had. "It wouldn't have been as good without your horrible chopping job to help."

Bobby chuckled, and nodded. "It was pretty horrible. But then again, I don't cook." "I guessed," Jody whispered, and grinned. "So, how about that DVD?" she asked, and Bobby reached forward. "Sure- it's gettin' late, though- you sure you'll be able to stay awake?" Jody pretended to be offended. "Bobby Singer, are you calling me old?" Bobby laughed. "Maybe." "Check yourself before you wreck yourself, grandpa," she retorted, and Bobby shook his head, smiling.

About halfway through the movie, which had turned out to be Clint Eastwood's, 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly,' Jody had taken out the small hair clip she had in, and let her dark brown bangs fall forward. Her hair was shorter since the last time he had seen her, Bobby noticed. It fell nicely around her face.

Bobby turned back to the screen, frowning. Don't look at her, you dumbass, he told himself, she'll get the wrong idea. So he kept his eyes focused on the movie, which was at a really good part right now. He sneaked one last glance over to her, and she was biting her nails anxiously, awaiting the next big scene. Bobby felt himself smile. She looked cute like this.

Jody caught him staring. "What?" she grinned, "Did I get cobbler on my face or something?" Bobby blushed, hoping the dark of the room would hide it. "Nah. I was just making sure you were awake, grandma." Jody sat up. "Well, I am, so never you worry." Bobby sat at the other side of the couch, posture uncomfortable but necessary.

"You got a stick up your ass or something, Singer?" Jody asked, "Relax! It's your couch!" Bobby nodded. "Yeah, okay." But he stayed the same way. Jody was about to make another joke, but then realized why he might be acting like this. Did Bobby Singer, the rumoured coldest, gruffest hunter in the business, have feelings?

"Hey, Bobby?" she asked, and he turned. "What?" "You know what I like even more than cobbler?" "What?" "Even more than this movie?" "What...?" "Even more than... my job? And that's sayin' a lot." "What, dammit, what is it?"

Jody bit her lip slightly, before leaning forward. "You." She then planted a small kiss on his lips, his beard scratchy beneath her chin, before crawling back to her side of the couch. Bobby's face was priceless, and Jody laughed so hard she thought she might cry. "What's the matter, Singer? You look like you just lost your legs!" This got Bobby's attention, and he snorted. "Don't joke."

He then nervously made eye contact, and sat back, a little more relaxed now. "Well, ya know something, Sheriff? Jody?" Jody looked at him. "What, Bobby?" "I think I could get used to this." Jody smiled at this, and scooted in just a little closer.

They continued to watch old westerns like this as the hours of the night wore on.

"Mills?" "Yeah, Singer?" "I don't do cuddling." "Uh huh. We'll see about that."