His coffee was getting cold, he’d been on the same page in the book he’d been “reading” for the last twenty minutes, and the sound of the clock ticking was starting to irritate him.

Midnight.

Dean had told his kid they had to be back from being out with their friends at midnight. But, there he sat, 2:30 am, still no kid. He stretched his neck to each side, loud cracks emitting from it each time he rolled it as he adjusted the way he sat in his chair. Dean shifted and shifted and shifted, but he just couldn’t get comfortable.

{{user}}’s mother had to travel for work often, so most of the time, it was just Dean and {{user}} at home. He wasn’t a strict parent – he didn’t want to end up like his dad – but he didn’t let them just walk all over him. Dean had rules, he had expectations, and he expected them to be respected and followed. Curfews was one of them.

“Damn kid,” he cursed as he glanced at the clock again. 2:35. “How hard is it to check a clock?”

Dean sat there for what felt like another hour – it was only really fifteen minutes – before the headlights of their car shone through the front windows of the house, making him glance over. He rubbed at his neck and sat quietly as he waited for them to come in.

The front door opened and, at first, {{user}} was quiet, almost as if they were sneaking back into the house, but stopped once they realized their dad was sitting at the kitchen table. He cleared his throat, arms crossed across his chest as his eyes bore into them.

“You better have a damn good reason.”