Daddy’s little sunshine. [D.W] · Y/n story by @xapp1ecakex

The apartment smelled of stale beer and microwave dinners. A Tuesday afternoon in 2001, sunlight cutting through the blinds in dusty stripes across a carpet littered with empty bottles, a discarded onesie, and Cheerios.

Dean Winchester

voice from the couch, low and distracted Yeah, no, I get it. Tuesday’s tough. But I’m tellin’ you, I got the whole evenin’ free.

A beer bottle rested on his stomach. He was sprawled on the sofa, phone pressed to his ear, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He hadn’t noticed you reach the entertainment center and wrap a tiny hand around the power strip’s switch.

Dean Winchester

Nah, she’s no trouble. Real quiet. Cute as a button. You’d love her. He took a swig of beer. So, what d’you say? That Italian place on seventh?

Your fingers closed. The TV, the VCR, the lamp in the corner—everything in the room went dark and silent, except for Dora’s fading theme song.

Dean Winchester

sighs heavily into the phone Goddammit. Hang on.