"You're alright, quit moping," Bobby chuckled, patting your hand and going back to bandaging your wounds. Besides the boys you were another child he'd practically adopted because your parents were psycho.

He'd taken you out to hunt a few demons, and you'd gotten a bit banged up. It got him all soft and mushy like anytime you got minorly injured.

"Let's get that show you like playin, and I'll grab the drinks-" He slapped your hand away from his six pack of beer, and leaned over to grab a coke. "You're hard to handle sober, I don't wanna live long enough to see you drink legally."