Warnings : too much drinking mentioned. Sexual encounter mentioned.
Square filled : Cooking for your partner
Written for : @spnfluffbingo
SPN Fluff Bingo Masterlist.
Waking up to the smell of bacon, Bobby looked around confused. It was his bed, his room, but that wasn't a smell that normally wafted through the house this early in the morning. He knew that because he was never up early (or late) enough to make it.
Then he remembered something. Bits and pieces. You had stopped in to check in on him last night and brought dinner and booze. He smiled remembering the bitter liquid burning his throat, a nice change from the rotgut he'd been downing.
Getting out of bed with a groan from all the aches he felt, he began getting dressed enough to venture out into his home and face company.
“Since when do you cook?”
You laughed. “‘Morning to you too, Bobby. And always.”
“Ya any good at it?”
You turned and shot him a look. “In case you forgot, Robert Singer,” He swallowed at how you said his name. “my mama worked a restaurant up until a demon picked a fight with a witch and no one in the place but me and a delivery guy survived.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” he grumbled and sat at his table. “You just never cooked here before, is all.”
“You never have a stocked kitchen. Lucky for you, I took a quick trip out earlier.” you got back to the task at hand. “My mama taught me everything she knew in the kitchen, so you're in for a treat.” You smiled.
“The smell of bacon instead of stale beer is already a treat.” he chuckled. “Wouldn't mind if you stayed a while, long as you keep cookin’.”
“Real charmer, aren't ya, Singer?”
“When I wanna be.” he smiled.
“Don't I know it.” You smiled as you started not just placing his food, but moving things around and making it presentable.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You washed up?”
“I just woke up. Just put the damn plate in front of me already, it don't need to be fancy.”
“Shut up and let me work.” It took a few minutes to get everything set up just right. A large fluffy pancake in the shape of a heart, berries sitting on top. Two eggs off to the side, also heart shaped. Trick of the trade your mother taught you. Everything else was just placed nicely around the edges. “Happy Valentines day.”
He stared down at the plate once it was placed in front of him. “You shittin’ me?”
“No, Bobby.” you chuckled and went back to grab your plate off the counter and sit across from him.
“Since when you celebrate this?” you glanced up at him and picked up a slice of bacon. “I-I mean with me?”
“Since last night.” your lip twitched into a soft smile before you opened your mouth for bacon.
“Girl, how much did you have to drink last night?”
You studied him for a minute and sighed. “Less than you, apparently, since you don't seem to remember..” you turned your attention to your plate and started cutting up your pancake before reaching for the syrup.
Bobby stared at you and thought. Last night was a haze. A blurr. Everything except the dream he'd had. That he still remembered bits and pieces of. Then it hit him. “That wasn't a dream, was it?”
You smiled. “Nope.”
“We-?”
“Yeah. Twice.”
“Twice!?”
You laughed and his eyes were drawn to your mouth at the sound. “Yeah, I was pretty surprised too. You've got more stamina than I expected, old man.”
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Aller chez Bobby après la mort de tes parents, avant qu'il ne t'adopte.
Go to find Bobby after your parents' death, before he adopts you.
“Je veux que tu m'entraines, que tu me permette de me vanger. Je veux devenir un chasseur. ”
“I want you to train me, allow me to get rid of you. I want to become a hunter.”
“Hey, Bobby?” Dean tossed his phone down as yet another person hung up on him at the mention of his father’s name. The older man looked up from his desk as Dean sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand. “Any idea why everyone’s so pissed at Dad?” He knew John wasn’t easy to work with, but he figured people would at least care he had died.
“Erry’ones got their reasons.” Was all Bobby would say on the matter.
Sam sighed, hanging up his phone as well, and shaking his head at Dean. “Why were you so pissed at him?” Dean looked over.
“We ain’t getting into that, son.” Bobby got up, and walked out. “Beer?” He asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Hello?” Your phone had rang the second you got in the car, you were panting from running.
“Hey.. uh.. Y/N?”
“Yeah, who’s this? How’d you get this number?”
“My name’s Dean.. Dean Winchester. You don’t know me, but we found your number in my father’s phone-”
“John? He okay?”
“No.. he uh.. He died.”
That phone call had you rushing to a house you never thought you’d see again. A house you never thought you’d be welcome in again. Pulling up, you saw Bobby standing outside, and the boys off in the lot building a pyre. Taking a deep breath, you got out of your car. “Bobby-”
His jaw clenched instantly. “I didn’t invite you.” He was cold, very matter of fact. “You can stay for dinner, for those boys, but then you get the hell off my property.”
You looked down and nodded, he was still pissed, and it was understandable. You glanced up as he finished the beer in his hand, and headed in for another. Drunk, as always. You turned and went to sit on the hood of your car and waited. You weren’t welcome here, you only came to pay your respects to John.
You sat quietly for what felt like hours, but checking the time showed it had only been about 35 minutes, before the boys headed back towards the house. Bobby sat drinking and glaring the whole time, something the boys didn’t miss once they were done.
“You Y/N?” You looked up and nodded as he came over. “Dean.” He held out a hand. “That’s my brother Sammy.”
You smiled softly. “You look just like your dad.” He smiled a bit at that. “I’m sorry.” You swallowed.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Me too..” He sighed.
“Dean!”
Dean looked back at his brother standing with Bobby. “Alright, let’s get this started.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself and turned to head to the house. You stopped him by taking his hand in yours, and giving it a squeeze. He smiled again, a small nod, and his hand slipped out of yours as he walked off.
You watched as the form that had once been John Winchester was taken over by flames. You bit into your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. You’d mourn on your own, doing it here would just make things worse. You felt like maybe you didn’t have the right to, not with them, not with Bobby. You shouldn’t have come.
Glancing up, Bobby just stood there, the pain was obvious, but it was masked by so much as well. Sniffling, you looked down and wiped off your cheek.
Sam glanced over from the other side of the Pyre where he and his brother stood with Bobby. He was curious, about you, about the obvious rift. He turned as Bobby walked away from the pyre, shooting you one last glare.
You were the last one standing by the fire. It was mostly ash, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, not yet. Sam tried to get you to go in and eat, but you shook your head.
Then Dean came, handing you a beer. “Look like you need it. Come on.” You nodded, taking it from him and following him as the last embers died down.
Bobby and Sam were sitting on the porch drinking. Dean went up the steps to sit on the porch with them, but you stopped, leaning on the railing and drinking your beer.
“So, you knew our Dad?” Dean asked.
You nodded. “Yeah. I knew him.”
“You’re the only person who didn’t hang up on us when we called…”
“Sounds about right.” You answered quietly, downing a good half of the bottle. You knew where this conversation was going. Then he asked the question you dreaded answering.
“How’d you know him? We tried to ask Bobby, but-”
Biting your bottom lip, you looked down. “I use to date Bobby, long time ago.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up, not expecting that. “What happened?”
Slamming his beer down, Bobby got up and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him. You flinched at the sound, and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Your father happened.” You answered quietly.
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