Dean smirked at the memories flooding his brain.  He had been so reckless as a teen, but it was what ended up making him an almost more reckless adult, if he was honest.  He shrugged slightly,  “I kept it because it seemed like the only way to hold onto you, you know?  I have pictures of my mom…”

He stopped when he thought about Mary, but pushed the thought to the side and plastered the smile back onto his face, thinking about them sneaking and how things hadn’t really changed all that much, “I mean, we almost got kicked out of Bobby’s house for our…noise.  It’s almost like sneaking again, if you think about it.  Be careful of the bed creaking.  Be careful of breaking anything.  Be careful of pulling your face out of the blankets.”

He gave a soft laugh and remembered the night she was referring to of her dad losing his mind after realizing he was right, and Dean was indeed in the house.  Dean was sure he was dead that night, and nearly broke his neck getting away, “I thought he was going to shoot me, or something.  He came at me so fast…I ran like I was running from literal bullets.  Didn’t make me come around any less, though.”

He continued running his fingers up and down her arm, sighing in contentment and honestly feeling a bit better.

He furrowed his brow, and smirked, “I mean, it’s not like my dad appreciated me having anything that lasted more than a night or two, either.  There were times I was afraid he was going to choke me, especially after finding our food scraps in the back of his car.  Woof…Sammy had to make up so many excuses to keep my head.”