[h3] Duke[/h3]
[h3] Later That Night [/h3]

[i]That girl is trouble.[/i]
That was the thought that kept rolling over in Dukes brain as he lay on his bed. He stared at the ceiling of the RV, trying to find a water spot or some shape to concentrate on. It had been 24 hours. Just 24 hours, and his thoughts were consumed by the way she hugged him, the way she said his name, the way tears looked in her eyes, the specific tone of her skin under bruises, the way her hair fell onto her shoulder when she wasn’t paying attention, the way she seemed to care…

He growled as he wrinkled his nose in disgust at his own mushy feelings, never really paying much mind to women in any way than a colleague, when he was forced to work with people other than Dean. It wasn’t like him to even make friends, much less be this infatuated with someone. And that someone? Well there was a very well defined wall between the way his hands vibrated when he was in the same room with her, and his actual ability to try and form some sort of relationship with her. 

Dean.
She was crazy about him. And obviously, by how sweet and awkward and weird Dean could get around her, the feeling was mutual. Duke groaned and wiped his hands down his face, embarrassed even though he was alone in the quiet trailer.

He sat up suddenly, “That’s enough…”
And as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, he sighed. She wasn’t awake to talk him out of leaving this time. He would be most of the way to Kansas before she even opened her eyes. He shoved his feet in his boots, opened the tiny closet next to his sink and pulled out his bug out bag. He hadn’t even stripped down for the night before bed, because he felt that he might change his mind. Sure enough, he grabbed his hat from the table, placed it on his head and then swiped his keys, throwing his backpack onto his shoulder. With one final look to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything, he turned and walked out of the RV.

A few moments later his white truck roared to life, and he slowly pulled out of the parking lot with a sigh.

[h3] 5 weeks later [/h3]

Duke pulled into the gravel lot, the familiar wave of “home” washed over him, the second he parked beside Bobby’s Chevelle SS and turned the engine off. He didn’t know why he came back. Maybe it was to finish healing up from the last hunt he had managed to survive by the skin of his teeth, or maybe it was just the need to touch familiar ground. Maybe he just missed home. 

He stepped out of the truck, closing the bloody drivers door with a scrunched nose. He really needed to wash his truck. 

The gravel beneath his boots sounded so nice, it was like a choir singing, beckoning him into the old house to grab a beer and just…take it all in. 

His hair was a bit longer and messier on the top of his head, now just long enough to lose the slight spike it usually had. It was flattened down, laying over his eyes under a wide white cowboy hat that always seemed to have at least a little blood on it. His flannel that he sported under his denim jacket fit a little tighter across his chest from the tiniest bit of muscle growth. He had been working hard, hunting…surviving, and it showed. His face sported a healing black eye and a pretty deep bruise on his jaw and throat but in hunters terms…he was back in one piece.

Autumn was coming, and Duke could feel it in the South Dakota air as he leaned his head back and breathed deeply. The serene feeling was only broken, when he heard a tool clanging in the garage directly in front of him. Bobby stepped out of the covered carport and as usual, being used to Duke showing back up after his running spells, Bobby’s face didn’t hold any contempt. Bobby simply strolled across the lot, a wrench in his hand and as soon as he approached Duke, he threw his arms around his neck. Duke instinctively brought his hand up and caught his hat before it could be knocked off, and wrapped his free arm around Bobby’s back.

“It’s good to see you boy!” Bobby’s voice shook against the side of Dukes face and Duke sighed with a smile.

“You too, Bobby…”

[h3] Dean[/h3]
Dean nuzzled Esme's hair as he woke up with a tired groan, not exactly excited to greet the day. He had work to do for Bobby, and the wire was surprisingly quiet, which meant he had been stuck around the house for the past week, just doing chores and work for other hunters that were lucky enough to have jobs. He tightened the arm she was laying on around her, brushing his fingers through her hair as he allowed his eyes to flutter open and stare at the ceiling.

It had been a peaceful month, even if the boredom was killing him. A lot of talking had occurred, feelings had been shared (even if his arm had to be a little twisted for it to happen) and he was feeling oddly rested and secure. But Bobby would want him. He could hear him tinkering in the garage below them, grumbling at the old car he was attempting to repair for a hunter. 

"Good morning sweetheart." He mumbled in Esme's hair, scooting himself down on the bed a bit so that he could face her, as awkwardly as the position wrenched his shoulder. He nuzzled at her nose, and chuckled under his breath, "As much as I would love to lay here with you all day, we gotta get up and get to work. And then tonight...after dinner...I'll make it up to you."

The mischief dripped from his voice as he brought his other hand down to trace her eyebrows, in an attempt to make her open her eyes and look at him. He would never admit it to anyone outside of this room, but now that he had her...practically locked in Bobby's house with nothing to focus on but their relationship: He was in love with her.

[h3] About an hour later [/h3]

Dean looked up as soon as he heard the truck door slam, a sound that he would recognize anywhere, any time, at this point. He was sat at the kitchen table, a map in front of him and a red sharpie in his hand, trying to piece together a pattern to relay to one of Bobby’s hunters. He didn’t expect Duke to be back for weeks. So, he made a mental note that this was some sort of record for the kid. Either he was injured, which Dean didn’t want to think about, or he was feeling more homesick this time. Dean would almost bet money on the former, and the thought caused his stomach to cramp. He really didn’t want to see the shape Duke was in.

He sat back and picked up his coffee cup, calling out to Esme with a sigh, “Dukes home…”