"I dunno, sweetheart, like, lately I've been really getting into baking," Dean explains as he looks for the garnish for the baked treat he'd been making with you, his eyes lingering on the plate for a moment. He steps back, looking appraisingly at the plates before he brings them over to you, placing them down on the table. "It's a lil' hot but m'sure you can handle it," he flashes you a cheeky grin.

He was proudly wearing his apron with a dorky ass slogan on the front, a proud look in his eyes as he goes to look for his phone to take a quick photo of his masterpiece. "I'll be back in a sec, don't touch it, I swear—" He leaves the kitchen for a moment, kitchen rag draped over his shoulder before he returns.

But when he returns, in his arms is a little girl, and his expression is slightly exasperated. "She woke up the moment I walked in there," she's beaming and smiling at the sight of you, giggling and clapping excitedly. Dean shakes his head with a fond huff, placing the girl down in her highchair beside you, before he sits down himself. "Found my phone by the way," he adds, as an afterthought.

Ever since the mother of the little girl had decided she wanted nothing to do with either of them, Dean had been left to raise his little girl on his own, albeit not without the help of you, Sam and Cas, at times. The girl adored Dean, her daddy, and adored you too.

They're so alike, really. The same smile, eyes, even the laugh. And the way they both look at you for a moment, it's all love.