I have to admit, falling asleep after the angst and anger of the previous night didn't seem like it would be as simple as it actually turned out to be. Guess I was emotionally exhausted. It helped that Dad, John, and the Winchester sons all took me at my word and kept fucking quiet. By the time I resurfaced, it was mid afternoon. My phone hadn't rung, dinged, or made a single noise during my extended rest, and for that I was grateful.

When I woke up and was greeted by silence, at first I reveled in it. Silence. No bickering. No gunfire. No noise whatsoever. And then, the fear crept back in. Had John and his sons left? Had my anger, my irritation at him and Dad's shooting session ran him off better than Dad's fucking shotgun? Had Dad convinced him, and himself, that I was better off without hunters in my life since I couldn't handle the weird shit they did to solve beef between them?

I lay in my bed, wondering just what I was going to be facing when I walked down the stairs. Would I see Dad, alone, and know that I'd managed to lose the one person that I'd felt passion and love with simply because I couldn't handle it? My phone, silent for hours, dinged far too loud for the silence surrounding me.

I picked it up, expecting a text from a friend from school or something else benign, having convinced myself that I'd lost John. And a smile grew on my face as I read the words.

"When you wake up, I want the little photo bubble that shows me to be the first thing you see. When you wake up every day from here on out, I want my face to be the one you see. Parisa Singer-Allison, you are my world, even if I did have to beat your Dad at a stupid contest to make him come to terms with it."

I felt a giggle build, and the fear was replaced with the fact that John, and Dad for that matter, were made of far tougher stuff than a little anger like mine could faze. Getting out of bed became easier. I took my time getting a shower. I dressed in another sundress, and I braided my long hair down my shoulder. When I finally started down the stairs I realized that what I'd taken for complete silence, was four men watching something on television as they ate takeout and drank beer. They weren't silent, just quiet.

"What are you guys watching?" I asked from the doorway, laughing as they jumped in their seats at my voice. "Sorry."

John's smile was echoed by Dad, and when he set his carton of Chinese down on the coffee table and held open his arms, I didn't hesitate. Settling on his lap, I noticed that aside from an eye roll from Dad, there wasn't any open hostility. Snuggling into John's chest, I breathed him in, the musky smell of his cologne coupled with the smell of gun oil and leather that would always be uniquely him. I felt his lips on my temple and my grin grew. This felt so right, natural even.

"Have a good rest, sweetheart?" Dad asked, taking a drink from his bottle. I nodded. "Good, I'm glad."

He refocused on whatever it was that they'd been watching before I came downstairs. "Hungry?" John's voice was quiet in my ear, and I nodded. "Your favorites are in the kitchen." I pulled away and stood up, a little surprised when he followed. He picked up his discarded carton and we walked to the kitchen. Free of the obvious eyes of my dad, John pulled me to him and kissed me deep and passionately. His lips a hair from my own, he breathed, "I'm so fucking glad he knows, Pari." And then he kissed me again, our bodies pressed tight against one another.

Suddenly, my favorite food didn't matter, because I was hungry for something completely different. I felt John's hands slide down my waist and tug at the skirt of my dress, pulling it up over my hips. His hands cupping my ass, and then I was on top of the table, with him standing between my parted legs. Panties pushed aside, pants unzipped, and then we were joined again. Keeping quiet, but needing this so much we couldn't have waited for darkness, for the privacy of a locked room after the adrenaline of nearly losing him, of Dad learning about us, of the entire fucking ordeal of twenty-four hours overtook us.

We were swallowing one another's noises, thankful that the table didn't have the same noise issues that my bed did, we were coming down from our combined satisfaction when we heard the most dreaded sound. A throat clearing. Fuck. Again?

Panting together, I looked up to see John's eyes squinted shut, clearly thinking the same thing I had. I peeked around his body, and had to hold back my laughter. It wasn't Dad. Thank you holy Jesus. Instead, Sam, poor sweet giant Sam had come into the kitchen to refresh everyone's drinks. And as a reward for being gopher, he'd had to see his dad and me fucking on the very table that we shared meals on.

"Uh," Sam offered, seeing my peeking face and turning a lovely shade of red. "I just-" He held up a couple empty beer bottles. "We needed-" Dear God, he wasn't going to make it. "Let me just-" He yanked open the fridge and grabbed a handful of beer after leaving the empties on the top of the fridge. And then, as though he'd just caught his dad balls deep in a woman closer to his own age, he scampered away.

My laughter couldn't be contained anymore. Giggles bubbled out of me and John's laughter joined mine. Shit, that was hilarious. "Oops." I offered, as John released me to straighten himself up. I did the same, shaking with mirth. "I think we scarred Sam."

John's eyes were twinkling with happiness and humor. "He's shared a room with Dean for years, if that scarred him, then he hasn't been paying attention for most of his fucking life, princess."

"I love you, John Winchester." I said, hopping down from the table and hugging him.

His lips touching the top of my head came before his answer. "I don't think I'll ever stop loving you, Pari."