Title: Bobby's Daughter
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize…
Warnings: Nope.
Notes: Nope.
Enjoy!
I ran.
I ran out of the room and house. I ran out off the property and down the gravel road.
I ran so far that it must have been a good six miles before I couldn't breathe.
Well, what can I say? My fellow gym goers would be proud.
It started to rain and I sat along side the road that had been my sole companion for the past six miles.
As I caught my breath, I saw headlights coming from the way I had just traveled. It could be a stranger or it could be my father – though I doubt both. Dad would have followed me sooner. As for a stranger, well, there are no houses back here and I hadn't seen one car yet, making me guess that this road was one less traveled.
The car, once close enough to see me, pulled off to the side of the road and shut down the engine.
Obviously it was Dean. He was hard to miss in the piece of garbage my father had lent him until the Impala was restored.
He got out of the car and slammed the door.
Dean started to stroll over to me with the air that said he was going to let me have a piece of his mind and the look that said he had something nasty to tell me. Boy, I was in for it.
I stood up, ready to hold my own against the great Dean Winchester.
He stopped in front of me, eyes beating down into my own. He jerked me against him, roughly, before smashing his mouth into mine.
Our teeth collided and our tongues meshed. It was seconds before I couldn't decide whose tongue, teeth, lips were whose.
He pulled back and jerked one hand toward the car. "Get in." Hell, I wasn't going to fight him.
I jumped in the car as he got in his side before turning the little motor on.
"What was that for," I asked once we were half way back to my father's house.
He shrugged. "You needed something to make you feel better." All without taking his eyes off the road.
"And practically tongue-fucking my mouth was going to help?" Pause. "Not that I'm complaining."
He smirked a little in the corners of his mouth. "It was a kiss."
"Just a kiss?"
"Just a kiss."
We were silent. Dean was going really slow – like fifteen or sixteen miles per hour slow – so I could have time to think, presumably.
"Dad told you," I asked.
"He's dad now?"
"More of a dad than my mom was a mom apparently."
He was silent for a second. "He told me."
"Care to comment?"
"No."
"Good."
He didn't skip a beat, nor look up from the road. "You care to comment?"
"No," I answered.
Again we were silent until we pulled into my dad's driveway.
"Dean," I asked.
"Yeah," he responded, killing the engine.
"I never thought I'd say this, but… thanks. You're a really… great… guy."
He smiled before smirking. "Don't choke on your words there, Singer."
"Excuse me," I said, mocking offense, "It's Russo until I say otherwise."
But truly, Singer fit just fine.
One more chapter – the epilogue! Hope you're enjoying!