Dean laughed when she mentioned she never forgot his pie.  She was right.  But he had to joke and boss her.  His smile faded and he closed his eyes as she stepped around him, after another small kiss.  He placed a single fist against the door, clinching the tips of his fingers to his palm, his nostrils flaring.

“This is ridiculous.”, he muttered to himself, alluding to his anxiety.  Dean was good at pushing down anxiety.  He was good at being okay.  Huffing, he stepped back over to the bed, and pulled his one pair of tennis shoes from his bag, dropping them on the floor and slipping his feet in without loosening the laces.  He then exited the room and trotted down the stairs, realizing she was already gone.

He sighed, hearing her car start and walked toward the back door, “Bobby, I’ll be in the garage!  If you need me, you’ll have to come get me…I won’t hear you yell.”

He then opened the garage door silently, and stepped into the garage, heading for the first car he saw with a note: A 1966 Mustang Shelby.