Bobby Singer's Daughter - A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter Fifty - Eight - Do you Miss it?

Dean came home about an hour late like he said he would, his eyes take in Cassie standing next to the couch, but takes him off guard when she starts to walk towards him using the couch when necessary but once the couch is behind her, she wobbles and teeters eventually making her way to him. He looks up at me eyes wide a misty look about them, I smile feeling my own tears his little girl is getting bigger and becoming her own person. He picks her up covering her little cheeks with kisses when she whines a little at his touch, he then pulls back seeing the small mark on her face touches it lightly his eyes come to me next an eyebrow raised.

"I stepped away for a few minutes while she was watching TV," I explain with a half truth, "she had managed to get into the kitchen knocking the highchair onto herself."

"Getting into trouble already?" he asks her.

She pats his cheek, "Bam," the word sends a shiver down my spine, what the hell she hasn't said that in a long time let alone hear either of us say it.

"What did you say CJ?" Dean asks.

"Da!" She shouts with a smile, "Da!" she squirms in his arms and he puts her down on wobbly legs but teeters back over to the little nest I made for her and sits with a soft thud.

Dean looks over at me as she plays, "did you talk about Sam today?" I shake my head, "no, I sang to her a little bit for nap time, but I never talked about him, it's been a while since she heard me say his name."

"Yeah, same here," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah yeah, just a long day."

He brushes by me heading to the kitchen, probably for a beer or something stronger in the back of the fridge; I follow him knowing that Cassie can come find us now being able to partially walk on her wobbly legs.

"How was drinks with Sid?"

"Fine," he mutters, "what's with the third degree?"

I take a step back, I didn't think I was giving him the third degree, asking about his day is just part of what being a wife is, isn't it?

"I'm not giving you the third degree," I mutter, "I've been by myself with Cassie all day, I just missed you."

"I'm sorry," he whispers moving away from the fridge, "it's been a long day; I'm a little on edge but maybe," he grabs me by the waist, "my loving wife can help me release some tension?"

His lips press against mine urgently like he needs me to live, I kiss him back letting him hold me tightly his hands rougher than usual; something is wrong, but he won't tell me and if he's not ready to spill then I won't pester him because then he'll just shut down entirely. The kiss deepens more his tongue invading my mouth, his nails find the exposed skin below my shirt and they dig into the skin there a little but I don't say anything; I like it when he's rough sometimes but not when he's like this especially if he's on edge as he says he is so when he pulls back I put a hand on his chest to stop him from kissing me again.

"We have a fourteen-month-old in the living room," I breathe, "let's get her ready for bed before you start undressing me."

He whines a little but agrees, however he leaves bathing duty to me while staying downstairs eating leftovers from the night before for dinner. Meanwhile his daughter splashes water all over soaking me and the towel I'm kneeling on, she enjoys the water but when it comes time to get out, she fights me like her life depends on it which to her it just might. I grab her towel a hooded batman one, her dad bought it a while back, and cover her up before she gets too cold, as we walk to her room she plays with the hood having her own little fun making me laugh as she hides then shows her face saying, "boo!" like I've done with her before.