As requested, here is a day of Natalie and Dean being adorable siblings.
I don't own Supernatural.
"Make sure you clean the guns. We're doing target practise once I'm back."
"Yes, sir."
"Sam, you're to check in every two hours."
"Yes, Dad."
"Natalie, help Dean, then homework."
"Okay, Dad."
"I'll be back tomorrow evening." John Winchester nodded once before grabbing his bag off the floor by the door and leaving the motel room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Once all three of them had heard the familiar rumble of the truck's engine fade into the distance, Sam grinned at Dean and ran out of the room into the bedroom. Seconds later he was back, struggling to pull his jacket on, and sliding his mobile phone into his pocket.
"Every two hours, Sammy," Dean reminded him, walking over to the kitchenette and pulling a chocolate bar out of the fridge, breaking it in half and chucking the half that had turned up slightly smaller to Natalie, who caught it and dived over the sofa arm, chewing happily.
"Sure, sure. I'll be back by dinner, is that okay?" Dean nodded and Sam, with a quick laugh of elation, sprinted out of the door, accidentally slamming it behind him.
"What's so exciting about a day in the library, that's what I want to know," Dean mumbled to himself, walking over to the sofa, casually shoving Natalie off it and lying down with his feet propped up on one arm. Seconds later he was assaulted by Natalie throwing herself on top of him, giggling and poking his stomach.
"Don't push me off, Deanie," she said, pushing her bottom lip out in her I'm too cute for you to do anything except agree with me look. "Wanna cuddle."
"Urgh, Tally, you know I don't do cuddles," Dean groaned, at the same time hooking his hands under her arms and pulling her close. Natalie happily snuggled into a little ball, lying in Dean's arms. He secretly loved this, lying on the sofa with his little sister tucked up into his side like she was made to fit there, knowing that, for now, she was perfectly happy and safe, but he wouldn't ever admit it. Far too close to a chick flick moment for his liking.
They lay there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, Dean fiddling with the shock of frizzy red hair that was tangled and messy across his chest. Then Dean reached over his head for the remote - fumbling around on the table that he couldn't see, he accidentally knocked his phone and a mug onto the floor, which thankfully didn't break - and turned the television on. He flipped through channels for a while, Natalie eventually becoming bored and pushing herself up before she darted out of the room, returning only seconds later with her hands clutching a red exercise book that she thrust into Dean's face.
"Help me," she demanded, barely able to hold back the smile that was fighting it's way onto her face.
"Later, princess," Dean replied, shoving her aside so that he could see the television, where he had finally settled on a program that looked mildly interesting.
"Nowwww," Natalie giggled, scrambling onto the sofa and sitting on Dean's chest. "Now, now, now!" She bounced a little with each word, making the air whoosh out of Dean's lungs. He groaned dramatically and stood up, throwing her over his shoulder as he did.
"Sonuvabitch," he said, striding towards the table and kicking a chair out from underneath it, before lowering Natalie into it as though she was made of glass. "How much of this stuff," he gestured to the book in a general manner, "do you have?"
"Not much," Natalie was now grinning uncontrollably as she flicked through the book until she found her page. Once that was done, she pulled a pencil out from her jumper pocket, put it on the book and thrust them both over to Dean.
They had...an arrangement, which would probably make Sam start talking about how important school was and Dad say that it was probably best if Natalie did her own homework. But neither of them particularly cared for schoolwork, Dean because he just couldn't be bothered to concentrate on something so irrelevant for so long and Natalie because the letters and numbers had a disconcerting way of floating all around the page, which made sums and reading work tiresome and difficult. So, whenever they had a day to themselves, Dean would give Natalie the answers to her simple maths homework and scan the part of the book she was meant to be reading before giving her a brief summary so that she knew what had happened in the story, before the pair of them gave the homework up as a bad job and started doing other stuff instead.
Yeah, Sam and Dad probably wouldn't be too pleased. But they didn't know, and it left a lot of time free to do more interesting things.
Ten minutes later, Natalie had shoved the book back into her schoolbag unceremoniously and both of them were sitting at the table in the kitchen cleaning the guns. Each had a gun in their hands in different stages of assemblement.
"...and then we realised that it wasn't a spirit at all, it was a Bloody Mary, and so we had to find someone..." Dean was recounting tales of hunts in detail that would have horrified any normal parents with the detail but which Natalie had seen many times first hand. Once his story had finished - with Dean heroically killing the monster and saving everyone, just like they always ended, Natalie had been certain for a long time that at least half of these stories were made up and the other half exaggerated - they had a race to see who could take apart and re-assemble a gun in the shortest amount of time. Dean held back, like he always did, so that the races were draws. Natalie couldn't wait for the day when it became a real race.
"Sonuvabitch!" she hissed when, at the last minute, she dropped the last piece of the gun, meaning that she had to scrabble on the floor while Dean finished his gun. She covered her mouth guiltily with one hand, looking up at Dean, cheeks flushed. She had never quite understood why Dad, Dean and Sam could swear but she couldn't, but the fact remained that if it had been John she swore in front of, she would be looking at seriously unpleasant discipline. Something along the lines of runs and training until she could barely see straight.
Dean just laughed.
Natalie joined in, guilty giggles through the fingers covering her mouth.
"Oh, if Dad was here," Dean said, "lucky it's just me, firefly."
"Sorry, Dee," Natalie squeaked. "Don't tell Dad, please?"
"If you're good," Dean laughed again, making an evil face. "If you do everything I tell you, I won't tell Dad." Natalie nodded cautiously, aware that she was walking into one of Dean's traps. "If you..." Dean scratched his head, clearly trying to thin of a dare. "You know what, I can't be bothered. You get away with it." Laughing, Natalie ran to the counter and scrambled onto the surface, before rummaging through the cupboard and throwing sausages and two potatoes at Dean. Luckily the sausages were still in the packet, but each potato bounced off Dean's chest and landed on the table. He just caught them before they rolled onto the floor.
"Lunch!" Natalie announced, shutting the cupboard and climbing down again, before grabbing a fork and pricking the potatoes and shoving the in the oven and pushing Dean into the kitchen to make sausages.
"Firefly, it's only 12," Dean managed to get out, but Natalie drowned him out.
"But I'm hhhuuuuunnnnnnnggggggggrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy Deeeeeeeeeeeeee, wwwwwwaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaa eeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaatttttttt," she moaned, not even bothering to keep the cheeky smile off her face.
"Don't know why I let you do this," Dean grumbled to himself with the air of elder siblings all over the world when a little sibling gets their way again. Natalie was milking it and she knew it, because she knew that Dean wasn't like Dad and would know that she wasn't really behaving like a spoilt brat, but just pretending to, to annoy him. "Fine, princess. You get to have lunch now if you get everything else out." Natalie agreed gleefully before pulling out two plates and glasses out, along with cutlery.
Dean and Natalie had finished eating and Natalie was doing the dishes as a thank-you for the early lunch when the house phone rang. Once, and then there was silence again. Dean jumped up from the sofa, turned the television onto silent and caught up the phone just as it began to ring again. "Dad," he said, walking back over and flopping onto the sofa.
"Dean. I'm on my way back. Turns out the hunt wasn't a hunt, just some stupid-ass kids who thought it would be a good laugh, they'd told the police everything before I'd even got there."
"Okay. When'll you get here?"
"Well, I pretty much turned straight around, so I'd say another four hours."
"Got it. You want me to get Sammy back?"
"Good idea. We're gonna go out to that field I found and do some target practise. Is Natalie behaving?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Well, I'll see you, son."
"See you Dad." Dean rang off and turned his head, well aware that Natalie had come in when Dad had rung. "Bad news, firefly," he said, tossing the phone carelessly onto the table. "Dad's on his way home." Personally, Dean was glad that their Dad was coming back, but for Natalie's sake he didn't. He didn't get why and never had, but John was a lot harder on Natalie than he was on Dean and Sam, meaning that he never got to see the side of her that Dean and Sam often did - the fun-loving 7-year-old instead of the trained and experienced hunter. It was almost worrying how different Natalie was when she was with Dean and Sam to how she was when John was around as well, and how quickly she could snap between the two.
But Dean wasn't going to think about that. They had four more hours.
