I was utterly and entirely pissed. As I slammed around the kitchen that not hours ago John and I had cleaned free of his fucking blood, I considered the scene I'd left outside. My dad and the man I loved, shooting together as though it was not a huge fucking deal after Dad learned about the two of us. As though I wouldn't be woken by GUNSHOTS and assume the very fucking worse.

And as they shot, laughed, and had a grand old time, I'd gasped so loud that they heard me. Or maybe I'd stepped on something and they heard that, but honestly I was so fucking annoyed that the two of them had patched it all up with a trip to the 'very close to the house' impromptu shooting range. I'd thrown up my fucking hands and stalked back to the house. Pissed off at the entire world. Or at least the two men outside, and fucked if I wasn't completely mad that the other two for sleeping through the whole fucking thing.

Which was why I was banging everything I could find in the kitchen, as I made myself a cup of tea. The loudest fucking cup of tea that had ever been made, thank you very much. The teapot had begun to whistle, but I was in no fucking rush to stop it, and then a large male hand beat me to it anyway.

"What the hell, Parisa?" Dean groaned, slamming the steaming pot on a cold burner.

Sam wasn't with him, which made me wonder if I hadn't been loud enough. If I couldn't sleep, then I was sharing the wealth. "Didn't you fucking hear the gunshots?" I growled, reaching for the teapot. "No, of course not, but me making noise in the kitchen, that you hear." I shook my head and poured the hot water of my teabag.

"Gunshots?" Dean's eyes, which had been droopy from sleep, popped wide. "Where? Dad? Bobby?"

I laughed at his newly acquired give a fuck. "Yes, gunshots. Yes, John. Yes, Dad." I was dipping the teabag up and down in my hot water. I shrugged at him like it was no big deal, because from what I'd seen outside, apparently it wasn't.

Before Dean could do whatever he was trying to decide to do, we both heard the front door open. Dad and John could both move like vapor, so we heard nothing else until they were both standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I leaned against the sink, waiting for my tea to darken enough to drink. No one made a noise, well, other than me bouncing the bag up and down in the water.

"Parisa," Dad started, but when my eyes looked into his he stopped.

John tried to take over, but he couldn't seem to find the words either when our eyes met. "We were just-"

Dean was watching us like a tennis match, and I had to think that at this point a good tennis match might be better. "Well, since things seem quieter now," he shot me a look, "think I'll give sleep another go."

I rolled my eyes, pulling the teabag out of the water, and tossing it. Adding a spoonful of sugar, and stirring I sat down at the table. After a long quiet moment, I felt the two of them sit. Not on either side of me, but across the table, where Dean and Sam had sat during dinner all those days earlier. I kept stirring the tea, waiting for one of them to explain themselves.

"Pari," John started, urging me with his tone to look up at him. Sighing I did. "Bobby and I, we're a lot alike."

Dad's snort told me that he found that funnier than I did. "We get through things in a similar way, sweetheart," Dad continued, making my eyes leave John to take in the calmness surrounding my dad. "Sometimes we just need to-"

"Shoot guns," my voice was quiet, but I was still irritable and they both knew it. "In the middle of the night. Right after finding out about John and I, you and John thought having a shooting session was, what precisely?"

I leaned back in my chair and watched them share a look. "It wasn't just a shooting thing, Pari," John offered, seeming to come to an understanding with Dad.

"I told him he had to beat me," Dad muttered.

Beat him? What the hell? My confusion must have been so obvious to the two of them, yet now, they were studying anything but my face. Great, they'd reverted to naughty children. "Beat you?" I asked Dad, clearly wanting a better fucking understanding of the entire stupid episode.

"I had to best him, be a better shooter, at the targets he set up." John told the table under his hands.

I blinked. Did my dad actually decide that John and to WIN me in a contest of who's the best fucking shot?! I could feel the anger flare up from my toes to the top of my head, and I was very glad that I wasn't seeing myself in a mirror. They were both insane. Clearly this was the issue. Hunting the supernatural had somehow made them fucking stupid, that had to be the only damn reason for it.

"Of course," I was shocked at how steady I sounded. Steady, calm, but inside I was fighting the urge to throw my teacup at them. "Makes perfect sense." I wasn't even sure if I heard sarcasm in my tone. At this point, who fucking knew?

"Parisa," Dad offered, finally looking up. "It wasn't the-" he struggled with the appropriate word. Adult, I offered in my head, mature, or hell reasonable would work too. "Best idea, obviously." He was looking at me, how I was dressed or not dressed as the case may be. Oh, nice, Dad, throw shit at me because I wasn't dressed for your stupid contest.

John's lifting of his head caused me to shoot him his own look. "We should have waited until morning." He agreed with Dad, without insulting my bedclothes. Although to be fair, I was wearing his shirt, so he probably got a thrill out of it.

I nodded. "Which is what this conversation is going to wait for," I announced. Getting up and carrying my tea with me. "Don't wake me up for it, though, since I have some sleep to catch up on. Maybe hold off the bullets until normal people would deem it appropriate. If you don't have any experience to go on, then let me give you a bit. If it's fucking dark, and I'm not awake, it's too fucking early."

I stomped back upstairs and locked my bedroom door behind me. Sitting the cup down on my bedside table, not wanting it, but not willing to show them that I'd made it for nothing I lay down on my bed and wonder what the fuck they were trying for with the shooting?

Exhaustion, irritation, and the entire fucking ordeal made sleep come quickly. And I hoped, if they both knew what was good for them, they'd keep their shit to a dull roar. Because right now, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be involved with either of their asses.