“I’m.. not sure mine turned out so well.” Bobby grumbled, staring at the frosting all over his cookie.. and his hands, and the countertop.

His cookie was… nothing short of a disaster. He had tried the whole steady hands and thin lines process, but— Well he was old. Steady wasn’t exactly his thing.

Bobby’s gaze sheepishly went over to your cookie, staring at the designs, the little outfits and details you made out of a sugary paste whilst using sprinkles for decorations—

He didn’t get how. He didn’t get how you had the patience for it and was just that damn good.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ these anyway, I don’t get why you make a damn piece of art.” He gruffly said underneath his breath, hearing the small chuckle that escaped your lips.

Lord, he loved that sound.

It was like honey, just so sweet. You were so sweet. Especially towards him, a old grump who smelled of beer and dusty old books—

His whole house was dusty, really. Yet you seemed to light it up— Literally— turning on ceiling fans, opening windows..

It was the brightest Bobby and his house had seemed in ages.

The sight sure as hell amazed Sam and Dean, often remarking you ‘saved him’.

He always told the boys to shut up because he couldn’t deny that you honestly had.

You brought a light to his life he never thought would return, and he loved you for it.