Summary: John hates having to leave his little girl for hunts. His big girl understands.
Written for @spnkinkbingo
John scrubs a hand over his eyes, closing them a minute to give them a break from the tiny letters of the police reports now that he knows who- what- he's hunting. The soft rustle of a paper prompts him to open them again.
A drawing, done in the clumsy crayon scribbles of a six-year-old, has been slid on top of his pile of research. It depicts two figures, a man with a beard labeled “Daddy” and a little girl in a pink dress labeled “Me”.
He looks up to find the bright eyes of his baby girl peering over the table edge from her place on the floor. She's been sitting there a few hours now, contentedly coloring away.
“I colored you a picture,” Y/N says softly and all the tension melts from his shoulders.
“It's beautiful, baby girl,” John says. He scoops her into his lap, cuddling her close. She's already dressed for bed in a t-shirt of his and she honestly should probably be asleep by now, but he was too busy figuring out the identity of the ghost to even think about that. He has that now, though, and he feels bad for neglecting his girl so long. “You were so good for Daddy, being quiet while he worked. I bet you're tired.”
Even if she tried to deny it, he would know. Her eyelids are drooping. She nods, though, and he marvels for the hundredth time at how wonderful Y/N is.
“Good girl.” He kisses the side of her head. “Let's get you all tucked in, and then I have to go finish my work.”
She puts as he carries her to the bed and grips his shirt tight in both hands. “I don't want you to go.”
John's chest aches as he sets her down. “I know, baby, but I have to. If I don't do it, no one will and people will get hurt.”
It's a serious subject for a six-year-old, but John can see a hint of Y/N's adult side coming through. She understands, she's just being stubborn. He pries her fingers from his shirt and tucks the blankets around her. She gazes up at him with pleading yet tired eyes.
“I'll be back by the time you wake up tomorrow,” he promises, smoothing her hair back and laying a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she mumbles, already well on her way to sleep. She always falls asleep so easily when she's Little. He wishes he could tuck her in like this every night.
The hunt goes surprisingly well. John comes back to the motel filthy and bruised, but otherwise unharmed. He locks the door quietly, undresses in silence, and takes a quick shower. When he emerges from the bathroom, barefoot and bare-chested in his soft pajama pants, it’s to find bleary eyes watching him from the bed.
“You're supposed to be asleep,” he scolds gently, crawling in beside Y/N.
She hums softly, nuzzling into his chest. “I never sleep as well without you, even if I fall asleep Little. You know that.”
So she's all grown up again. He curls his arms around her, holding her close. “I know.”
“The ghost is gone?”
“Of course.”
Y/N nods. “And nothing major happened?”
He smiles at her concern and breathes in the smell of her shampoo. “You would know if something had. Stop asking questions and go to sleep.”
She opens her mouth to talk, but it turns into a yawn and John laughs softly.
“Ok,” she murmurs, one arm creeping around his waist.
John lays awake a long time after she drifts off again, wondering how the hell he got this lucky.
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Hey, I just wanted to thank you for writing story's with nonsexual age play. I've always felt weird for liking it and seeing your blog and reading your fiction had made me feel so much better about it, so thanks :)
I can understand how you feel, nonny. Even for me, it's one thing to write about it and another thing entirely to realize that it may apply to me on a personal level. But I'm glad that my fiction and my blog were able to help you out. :) if you ever wanna chat about it, feel free to message me!
