Chapter Text
The cold wet nose against my cheek caused me to crack an eye open. When I felt it nudge into me, I turned to look at the culprit even as she stared at me with adoring brown eyes. The moment I looked over I could see her tail start wagging gently as she pushed her nose more incessantly into my stubble covered skin.
With a grunt, I brought my hand up to pat Dakota's sleek black head, which she leaned into adoringly.
As long as I had known Bobby he'd had a version of Dakota in one way or another; a huge black shaggy mutt with bright eyes and alert ears. I'd asked him about it once when he'd taken the dog on a hunt, and he'd told me that it was easier to remember one name and set of commands for his hunting partner than a bunch in his old age. Also, it made people wonder he said, because for as long as anyone could remember he'd apparently had the same dog. He'd had other junk yard dogs over the years too, a big Rottie named Rumsfeld had been his most recent, but none of them were quite like his various Dakota's.
Sitting up, I groaned at my stiff back, silently cursing myself for having fallen asleep on the couch again. Especially when Bobby's spare room essentially belonged to me and Sam given how often we were at his place. I'd been watching Die Hard drinking a beer to cope with my insomnia so I didn't keep Sam up and must have fallen asleep sometime between yippee kay yay and Hans falling off the roof. Bobby's big dog had joined me on the couch when I'd settled in, her head resting on my lap so I could easily pet her as she seemed to watch the movie with me. It had been a welcome comfort, her quiet presence.
All my life, since I had met Bobby as a kid, I had taken comfort in his hunting dog. The first time dad had dumped us at Bobby's I'd been pissed and had taken off into the salvage yard in a fit of childish rage. I'd gotten horribly lost in the maze of cars and, thinking I was alone, I'd sat down and cried against the rusted metal hulk of an old Chevy.
That was when I had first met Dakota.
It wasn't until I was older that I really appreciated that meeting with that eternally playful version of her. She had crawled on her belly with her tail wagging and her demeanor goofy when she had realized I was scared of her. The animal had done everything in her doggy power to show that she was unthreatening to me, overcoming my childhood misgivings. When she'd won me over she had licked away my tears. She had then done everything in her doggy capabilities to get me to laugh before dutifully leading me back to the house. I'd been scared that Bobby was going to be mad at me, but he'd just smiled and patted the dog, introducing me to Dakota officially.
I'd been fast friends with "Dakota" ever since. No matter what version of her he had, from the playful thing of my childhood to the shy thing he'd had in my teens, we'd been fairly inseparable whenever I was around. Whenever I was here since that first meeting by that old Chevy, Dakota was almost always within arms reach.
This current version of her easily weighed over 120lbs, the same big shaggy black look he always went for as well, down to the perky ears. She sat patiently waiting for me to finish scrubbing my hand over my sleepy face before she gave a little woof and dragged her tongue over my cheek in a doggy kiss good morning. Standing I rubbed her head between her ears again before I moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, glancing out the window at the pinkening early morning sky. I could hear Bobby moving around his room, and I was grateful that the dog had woken me before he had caught me out on the couch... again. I wasn't really in the mood for a lecture.
It had been a quiet week, which I was grateful for. Sam and I honestly needed a bit of a break, not that I would ever admit it to him. I never liked to admit that I was tired because the moment I did it made me start thinking of everything I was tired of. There was no point in dwelling on those missing aspects of my life; the wife and kids with the yard and the picket fence that I was never going to have. Nothing was going to change because I was who I was, and that was a soldier.
Always a soldier.
The coffee was almost done when Bobby came in, absently patting Dakota on the head as he moved about getting her breakfast ready. She wove around us, licking her chops in anticipation. I grinned as I poured the coffee as she rubbed up against us affectionately, excited for the chicken and greens Bobby was prepping for her. The damned dog ate better than we did most days, but with all the various times his various mutts had unexpectedly come to our aide over the years I couldn't really begrudge Bobby for spoiling her. He'd always claimed it wasn't fair to ask her to do the same job he did and not at least feed her well. Setting her food down, he turned to grab the coffee I had prepared for him before eyeing me critically.
"Did you sleep in your clothes last night?"
The note of distaste in Bobby's voice had me cringe into my mug before looking up at him. He opened his mouth to say something else at my look of guilt, only to be interrupted by an almost chastising woof. He speared Dakota with a glare from where she was looking at him, and if a dog could look annoyed, she did.
"What?" He demanded.
She talked back to him. There was no other way I could describe it. Her tail was wagging slightly and she made a series of noises that could almost be thought to contain words, and even her tone apparently had censure in it. I always teased Bobby that she was like this because he treated her like a person, and to be fair it was cute when they did this. It always seemed to make the old man secretly happy and I had seen more than one of these "conversations" go on for a while.
"Oh, really? You don't say."
She did it again, and Bobby rolled his eyes, turning back to his coffee in apparent defeat. It earned him a satisfied woof before she went back to eating, and I chuckled.
"I swear that damned girl likes you better than I do more and more." he muttered into the brew.
I laughed, "Chick's dig me, man, what can I say? Don't worry though, you'll always be her daddy."
He snorted, causing himself to choke on the hot beverage under his nose. Suddenly Dakota moved to be in front of him, worriedly pushing her nose into his stomach as he sputtered and coughed. He patted her head reassuringly even as he turned bright red, almost retching from the coffee in the wrong tube.
"You gonna die on me?" I asked with another laugh as I sipped my drink, slightly wondering if I would actually need to intervene, relieved when he shook his head.
When he finally caught his breath Dakota had her entire head resting in his lap, alert ears perked forward and eyes glued on his face as he wiped at the tears that had formed. The look was pure, unadulterated concern. The kind of love that clearly said the mutt would always try and put herself between Bobby and any threat, myself included.
I motioned to her with my mug to prove my point, "There, you see? She adores you."