Good evening you fabulous wonderful person! I hope you are having a brilliant day!
I wrote this story nearly a year ago, and have been waiting until Father's Day to publish it. Just getting it in under the wire, ha ha!
A huge, amazing, very special thank you to all of you who have followed, reviewed, favorited, and continued to follow me. You all know how to make a girl feel special. I'm currently working on requests. If you have a request that I haven't gotten to yet, look for it soon (I'm looking at you, delacre and Happygoddess2003). As for my dear guest who left a request in a review, I'm working that brilliant idea into a new case story that I'm working on. So thank you!
The biggest thank you of all to the lovely Jenmm31- the most bad ass beta/computer bestie a girl could ask for!
This one goes out to the amazing dads and "sort of" dads in my life. I've been fortunate enough to have several "Sort of" dads, and they have shaped my life just as much as my fabulous dad has. Thank you for being in this "just as much" as he was.
A/N- in this story, Natalie is 6. Please see profile page for disclaimer.
"Daddy..." came a gentle whisper from somewhere on his left. It was hard to tell the true direction of the sound, not really being awake yet.
"Mmmph."
"Daaaaaaaaaddy..."
No response.
"DADDY!"
Dean bolted straight out of bed, snatching his favorite .45 from underneath his pillow. He aimed the gun wildly around the room, trying to assess the danger, or at least what caused his daughter to scream like that. However, all he saw was the six year old sitting right next to where his head had been only seconds ago.
"Oh good! You're up!" she said, chipper as a Girl Scout on badge day. Dean exhaled slowly, the tension beginning to drain from his body upon realizing that there was no danger- just a child who apparently decided he was done sleeping. He slammed the gun down onto the night stand, turned, and gave his daughter The Eye. Normally, that look would have made her go running for the corner, but she just sat there, grinning to beat the band. He drug a hand across his eyes, wiping away the crustiness and trying to get his bearings.
"Natalie," he said, his voice gravelly from sleep, his eyes pinched shut to avoid the bright light coming through the motel window. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he finished up grumpily, glaring down at the kid.
"Nope."
"Then you wanna tell me why you decided to scream in my ear like that?"
"Because I wanted you to wake up."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, mission accomplished. What do you want, you little howler monkey?"
She began bouncing up and down on the bed. "It's Father's Day! Happy Father's Day!" She jumped to her feet and threw her arms out wide. It was the only indication that Dean had of her next intention, which was to jump straight into his arms. Luckily for her, he knew her well enough to know the "I'm about to launch myself at you" look. He caught her as she hurled herself at him, but between his sleepy state and the sudden force of a six year old tornado, it knocked his breath right out of his lungs. She giggled a couple times, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss on his unshaven cheek. Even in his tired state, Dean couldn't help but smile. Of course she was excited- she had been planning this day for weeks.
She had been on the road with the boys since the moment school ended in May; happy, laughing, and hyper as a hummingbird drinking Red Bull. Dean felt whole again, after being separated from her during the long school year. Even Sam was happier, since Dean's cranky silences and moods were now virtually gone. It was hard to be cranky around an excitable bundle of six year old energy.
Dean pulled her in tight to his torso and jumped back onto his bed, causing her to shriek with pleasure at his sudden rapid and crazy movements. He lay down on his back, pulling her on top of him, but keeping his arms wrapped around her so she couldn't escape. Of course, this made her squirm and try to break his hold, laughing in those little explosions that only six year olds can do. He made a face at her.
"I thought I was allowed to sleep in. It is FATHER'S Day, after all," he said, cocking one eyebrow playfully at her. She stopped trying to wiggle out of his arms, and instead put both hands on his face, squishing his lips together so they formed duck lips. That made her laugh, especially when he spoke again, the duck lipped face mangling his words. "I'm supposed to do what I wanna do."
Natalie took her hands off of Dean's face, and put them on either side of his head to keep her balance. "Sleeping is boring! It's Father's Day- I wanna play with you!" she declared. Dean grinned. God, he loved this kid. Just the fact that she wanted to spend time with him still baffled him. He didn't think he was all that interesting, but apparently the kid thought different. "Uncle Sam said I wasn't allowed to wake you up until eight," she explained, very seriously. "Or I woulda done it way earlier."
Dean turned his head and looked at the clock on the bedside table. Sure enough, 8:02. Well, at least Sam had bought him some time. He looked over at the bathroom door. He had assumed that his brother was in there when he hadn't seen him during this morning's assault, but the door was open. As if to answer his question, Natalie piped up. "Uncle Sam went to get you your favorite breakfast for Father's Day!" she squealed excitedly. Dean chuckled.
"As long as it's coffee and bacon, I'm good," he said. Natalie nodded vigorously.
"That's what I told him to get!" she said, thrilled that she had been right. Dean laughed out loud at her, and pulled her in closer to his face.
"You're pretty damn cute- you know that?" he said, putting his little girl in and touching noses with her. Usually, her response was to agree with him, but instead she wrinkled her nose.
"You got bad breath," she said, making a face at him. Her frankness made him chuckle. He wrinkled his nose right back at her.
"And gee. I wonder why that is? Could it be because someone couldn't wait for me to get up and brush my teeth before attacking me?" he said, starting to tickle her. She shrieked and giggled, twisting to try to get away from him. "You think my breath is bad, wait till you smell this," he said, then rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He plunked her down on her back next to him, and immediately threw his armpit over her face. As she squealed in mock outrage, he reached around and gripped the sheet with his right hand, making it even harder for her to push his heavy arm off. He laughed tauntingly at her. "Mmmmm. Pretty ripe under there, right?" he said, pressing his underarm into her face even more. She couldn't stop laughing long enough to speak, but she reached out under his arm and began beating his back and tricep with her fists. Dean snatched one of her hands with his left hand, and made her start smacking her own head with it. "Why're you hitting yourself? Why're you hitting yourself? Why're you hitting yourself?" he said in a playfully snide voice every time he made her bonk herself in the head. She couldn't answer; she was screaming with laughter.
Just then, Sam opened the door. "Morning, Sammy!" Dean called out pleasantly from the bed, with Natalie still pinned, twisting, kicking and "hitting herself", under his armpit. Sam just grinned and set down the container tray of coffee and the Styrofoam take out boxes.
"Did she at least wait until eight like I told her to?" Sam threw over his shoulder at his brother, trying to drown out his niece's shrieks.
"Yup. Next year, make it noon," Dean replied. He lifted his arm and released his daughter, who immediately started taking overdramatic deep gasping breaths since she was no longer trapped in his smelly armpit. "Alright, squirt, time to get up. And you need a bath. You smell terrible."
She instantly popped up and put her hands on her hips, adopting a bitch face. Damn Sam for teaching her that, Dean thought. She shook one little finger at him. Yeah, he definitely taught her that one, too.
"I took a bath last night! YOU smell 'cause you're a smelly smell face!" Dean shook his head, getting back up off the bed.
"We gotta work on your comebacks, kid. Food time," he said, gesturing to the table. Natalie didn't need to be told twice. She sprang up on Dean's bed, then bounced once and jumped off, landing hard on her feet. Sam looked over at her, shaking his head.
"Natalie," he scolded. "Don't jump off the bed like that; you're going to get hurt."
"You sound like Pops," she commented, rather than acknowledge what Sam has said. Dean grunted in agreement as he made his way towards the table tucked in the corner of the motel room. "He always says I can't run and jump and climb on stuff," she commented, clearly not pleased with the fact that she was always being told to stop running around.
"And he's right," Sam said, opening the boxes, checking to see which breakfast was in which container. "You don't wanna break your legs, do you?"
"Yes!" she said, giggling as she scooted into her chair. Sam just chuckled and shook his head. He put the container with the pancakes down in front of her. He took her chin gently in his fingers, and made sure she was looking at him.
"Don't do it again," he said, quietly but firmly. She sighed.
"Yes, sir," she said, a petulant look in her eyes. Sam smiled, and ruffled her hair. She blew a raspberry at him as she flattened her hair back down with both of her hands. Her attention turned back towards her father. "Come on, Dad! Breakfast for Father's Day!"
"It is too early to be this loud, kid. Take it down a notch," Dean said, but his grin was going unchecked. This was no different than any other morning, except that it happened to be Father's Day. That wasn't going to stop the six year old tornado, though. She had been too young before to really understand the different holidays and what they were all about. However, last Christmas had changed all that. She now thought every single holiday needed to be celebrated with its own unique blow out. Being on the road certainly hampered her ability to create the usual destruction that accompanied her big ideas, but she still was over abundantly excited for every holiday now. Dean prayed she didn't have anything planned in her little head. They had been very clear that they needed to travel today, but had agreed to stay at the motel long enough for breakfast for a "celebration". Dean sat himself down at the table, pulling the Styrofoam container closer to him. He could smell the delicious scent of bacon wafting from it. He grinned at his brother across the table.
"Now THAT will wake you up in the mornin'," Dean quipped happily before taking a slug of coffee. Sam chuckled, digging deep into his yogurt parfait for a strawberry, and then looked up at Dean.
"Hey," Sam said. "You think we should call Bobby? I mean, it IS Father's Day," he said, shrugging a shoulder at Dean. Dean's mouth was full of bacon, but he nodded as he swallowed. Before he could speak, Natalie chimed in.
"Yeah! Let's call Pops! 'Cause he's kind of your dad but not really. And I can talk to him," she explained, clearly under the impression that it had been her idea all along. Sam turned to her with a smile. It was so easy to smile when she was around- he had forgotten that.
"Since he's 'kind of our dad', don't you think we should get to talk to him, Bug?" he asked, teasing his niece. She chewed her bite of pancake and swallowed before answering. For a child of Dean, Sam felt that to be a great accomplishment.
"Okay. You can talk to him too," she acquiesced very graciously. Sam just snickered. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Natalie swung her legs around and almost fell of her chair in her excitement to call Bobby. She landed on her feet, but just barely. She ran over to Sam, and started jumping up and down while he located Bobby's number and hit the "call" button. Sam reached one strong arm down and scooped up his bouncing niece, depositing her on his lap. She wriggled in excitement, but didn't make an attempt to grab Sam's phone- past experiences had taught her that Sam and Dean weren't fond of her doing that, to put it nicely. Her eyes bore holes into Sam's, just waiting for Bobby to pick up the phone.
Finally, after about four rings, he did. "Sam," Bobby said gruffly, by way of greeting.
"Hey. Hi Bobby. Sorry to call you so early, but Natalie had something she wanted to tell you," Sam said, a grin in his voice. He handed the phone over to the little firecracker on his lap, who took it with a delighted squeal.
"HI POPS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!" she screamed into the phone. Dean just about inhaled his coffee laughing. He could only imagine what Bobby was doing right now- probably holding the phone as far away from his face as possible, while muttering every curse word known to man and the angels. He was glad he wasn't the only one who suffered this morning.
After a moment, Bobby came back on the line. "Yeah, okay there, Little Bit," he said, which of course Natalie knew was Pops Code for "Thank You". "Did you tell your daddy that too?"
"Yup! I woke him up with it first thing this morning!"
"Yeah, I bet you did," Bobby grumbled. His old heart was actually rather touched- the Winchesters were the closest thing he had left to a family. For them to call him on Father's Day was something he wasn't expecting. "You behaving yourself?" he said gruffly into the phone, which again, Natalie knew was Code for "How's everything going?" She had gotten to understand Bobby pretty well this past year. She knew she had him wrapped around her tiny finger, but he didn't always know how to say what he meant. She was getting pretty good at translating the Bobby Code.
"Nope!" she said, giggling. That made Bobby snort with laughter himself.
"Good. You give those boys hell, you hear?" Giggling. "Hey- put your uncle back on the phone, okay?"
"Okay! I love you, Pops!"
Bobby mumbled it a bit, but she could hear him say, "Love you too," before she handed the phone back to Sam and leaning back against his chest, wanting to remain on his lap for the rest of the conversation.
"Sorry about that," Sam said, his smile betraying his words. "Thought she'd gotten all of the screaming out of her system already."
"You nuts? She'll never get all the screaming out of her system, Sam," Bobby grumbled. "You boys heading to West Virginia?"
"Soon as we finish breakfast."
"Good. Call me when you get there, got some new info for you."
"Great, thanks Bobby. Oh, and..." Sam squirmed a bit. He wasn't sure how Bobby was going to take this, but he knew he'd kick himself if he didn't at least attempt to say it. However, he was having a hard time getting the words out. He wanted to convey how much the old man meant to him, but Bobby was not one for sentiment. Finally, Bobby spoke up to cover the silence.
"Spit it out, Sam, I ain't got all day."
After about ten seconds of awkward silence, he cleared his throat and went for it. "Happy Father's Day, Bobby."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Bobby said, "That's what you made me wait to hear? Idjit." Sam laughed, but he could hear the grin in the old man's voice, and his heart felt a bit lighter. Dean looked up and gestured towards Sam, but once again, his mouth was too full of bacon to actually speak.
"Dean says Ditto," Sam translated.
"Yeah, yeah. Same to you both," he said, unable to contain his smile. "Talk to you tomorrow." And he hung up. Sam knew that Bobby was actually touched by the call. However, the fact that he had wished Sam a Happy Father's Day too- in his own way- was almost...disconcerting to him. Sam wasn't a father. Sure, he did his best by his niece, but this day wasn't for him. Sam felt a strange mixture of confusion and annoyance, with just a touch of longing. He saw how much better Dean was as a result of having Natalie in his life, and for just a split second- he was jealous. But then he remembered how much better he was because of Natalie, too. He squeezed her once before she wriggled off his lap to go finish her pancakes. But instead of going back to her chair, she pranced her way over to her little backpack which was already packed up for the trip. She unzipped it and carefully withdrew a folded up piece of paper. She bounced back to Dean, and handed it to him.
"Here you go, Dad! Happy Father's Day! I drew it myself," she said, a smug, pleased look on her face. Dean looked at the folded piece of paper. On the outside, she had written, "To my best dad in the whole world, love Natalie Grace Winchester". Dean had to swallow a little lump in his throat. There was no way he was going to get all weepy over a picture- he had to have more testosterone than that. He unfolded the paper and examined the picture. As per usual, he couldn't make heads or tails of it at first. He could make out humanoid figures on top of...something...maybe dogs? He looked down at the little girl, who was giving him her thousand watt smile.
"It's really cool, kiddo. Tell me about it," he said, holding it out to her. Both he and Sam had learned the hard way not to ask what her pictures were. She had inherited the rest of her family's inability to draw, but she hadn't realized it yet. She got very upset if she was asked to identify the subjects of her drawings, but if you asked her ABOUT them, she was fine. She pulled the paper down gently towards herself, and pointed at the middle human-resembling drawing.
"It's the band AC/DC on unicorns! Look!" She pointed emphatically again to the paper. "See? He's wearing the hat that Brian Johnson wears!" And sure enough, when Dean looked at it through her filter, he could make out that the center drawing was a man on a unicorn wearing a golfing cap and shorts. His jaw hit the floor. He looked at the others- all the tell tale signs were there. Sleeveless shirts, long hair, the works. Dean turned his incredulous smile to his beaming child.
"You are officially THE coolest kid on the planet," he declared with passion. Natalie rolled her eyes dramatically and made a funny face.
"Well, DUH," she said, then giggled. Dean examined the picture more closely. The more he looked at it, noticing all the details, the more delighted he became. He held it out to Sam.
"Check it out, man! Didn't she do a good job?" he said excitedly. Sam took the picture to look at it himself, but he couldn't help thinking again just how much Dean had changed for the better. The twinge of longing that Sam felt hit him hard again, but he put on a brave smile. He handed the picture back to Dean.
"That's really great. You did a great job on that, Bug," he said, shooting the smile towards his niece, who had resumed her seat and was chomping away on her pancakes.
"Fank 'oo," she said, her mouth full. Sam was about to scold her for it, but then decided to let it go, just this once. Dean finally folded the picture back up, then pulled out his wallet.
"Since we don't got a refrigerator that I can hang this on," he said to Natalie, showing her the folded up picture. "It's going in my wallet so I can keep it with me."
She swallowed noisily. Her green eyes got as wide as they could. "Forever?" she asked in awe.
"Damn straight forever," Dean said, tucking the picture into his wallet, and slipping it back into the back pocket of his jeans. He grinned as Natalie squealed in delight once again, and resumed eating like a dock hand. He snorted a laugh, then pulled his own Styrofoam container close to him. He caught Sam's eye across the table.
"Happy Father's Day, man," Sam said, grinning at him. "I didn't draw you a picture, but I washed and waxed Baby this morning before you got up."
Dean put one hand to his heart, and tilted his head, a proud look on his face. "Thanks, Sammy."
"So when's Uncle's Day?" Natalie piped up unexpectedly, looking at Sam.
"What?" Sam said, who stopped suddenly, reaching for his coffee, as the question took him by surprise.
"When is Uncle's Day? There's a Father's Day and a Mother's Day (Dean shifted a bit uncomfortably at that, but Natalie didn't notice) and a Christmas Day, and everything. When is Uncle's Day so I can draw you a picture too?"
Sam looked up at Dean, not sure how to handle this one. Dean cleared his throat, and casually reached for his coffee. "Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but there's not really an Uncle's Day." He took a swig of his coffee, looking at his daughter over the rim of the to-go cup, wanting to see how this went over. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
"But...but..." she stuttered, trying to understand. "But...why not?"
Dean shrugged. "Well- because they haven't made one yet."
"Oh," she said quietly. She pressed a finger to her lips, apparently deep in though. Dean and Sam had a silent conversation over the table while she was distracted.
What was I supposed to say? Dean thought at Sam.
Beats me. That answer works as good as any.
Do you think she's upset?
Sam glanced sideways at the little girl, but she hadn't moved. He shrugged helplessly, having no clue what was going on in her head. At that moment, she looked up, very seriously, at Dean.
"Dad- can you MAKE there be an Uncle's Day? I think Uncle Sam should have a day too," she said very matter of factly. Dean grinned at his big hearted little girl. She never wanted anyone to feel left out or not special, and it made him proud to realize that she was thinking about Sam having a separate day just to celebrate him too.
"Well, squirt, I don't really control national holidays," he said gently, a twinkle in his eye. Natalie sat up straight, confusion etched on her face.
"But I thought you control everything," she said simply. Sam pinched his lips together to keep the laugh from escaping. Dean had always been a control freak. Out of the mouth of babes, he thought to himself. He threw a smug grin at his brother, but to his surprise, Dean was making a face to suggest that Natalie had a point. Finally, he turned to his daughter.
"You're right. I do. Okay. So we have an Uncle's Day now too," he declared with his superior grin.
"But not today- sorry, Uncle Sam," she said, looking at him again. "But today is Father's Day. And tomorrow can't be Uncle's Day, because I'd have to do so much work today to make tomorrow Uncle's Day, and I just CAN'T on Father's Day," she explained, sounding like an overworked six year old business executive. That didn't matter all that much to Sam though. The very thought that Natalie was wanting him to have his own special day made any jealousy and longing fly right out the window. He felt his heart warm inside his chest. Dean was grinning at him broadly.
"Alright then," Dean said, a hint of humor in his voice. "How about Tuesday then?"
"No!" Sam said quickly, causing both Dean and Natalie to look at him strangely for his sudden outburst. Ever since the Mystery Spot, Sam had had a prejudice against Tuesdays. He awkwardly cleared his throat and tried to recover. "I mean- Tuesday's no good for me."
Dean just stared at him blankly, but finally shook his head. "Alright. One week from today, it's Uncle's Day. How 'bout it?"
"YES!" Natalie squealed loudly, bouncing on her chair excitedly. She kept true to her word though; the rest of the day was all about Dean, who went to bed that Sunday night with a heart full of love from his daughter.
But that next day- the boys barely heard a peep from her as she planned out her Uncle's Day surprise, even going so far as to lock herself in the bathroom so Sam wouldn't accidentally get a peek at his picture. The rest of the week, she reminded Sam at least a dozen times NOT to look at the picture she was drawing, because it was a surprise. And he wouldn't look- not if his life depended on it. Having Natalie make such a fuss out of something so silly, he felt honored and embarrassed, all at the same time, even going so far as talking to Dean about it. When he expressed his concerns that Natalie was getting too worked up about a made up holiday, Dean just smiled at him, a little patronizingly, which made Sam flush.
"Sam, the kid's right. You deserve a day, too."
"I'm not her father, though."
"You think that matters to her? She wants to celebrate you."
"But Dean..." he began helplessly, not sure how to express his concern for not stealing Dean's thunder.
"Dude," Dean said gently. "You're important to her. And you know that there's no way in hell I can do this without you. If you don't know that by now, then you need to wake the hell up, because you're missin' one of the best things to happen to either one of us. You're in this just as much as I am. You deserve this. Let her do this, okay?" He clapped Sam on the shoulder. Sam had reluctantly accepted the praise and the point, so he let it be. Truth be told, he was a little excited, himself.
That next Sunday morning, he was just rousing from a dream when he heard a whisper in his left ear.
"Uncle Saaaaaaaaaaaam..."
