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Dean knew you was fed up with him, but he didn't care. It wasn't his time to have Charlotte but he was still walking the walkway to you's house. *Any excuse to see that hot piece of ass*.
A whistle left his mouth, and he opened the screen door so he could knock on the main one. That three beat rapt he always did when he arrived.
Realizing he still had a cigarette lit, he quickly flicked the butt to the ground and ground it down with his boot. His body leant up casually against the rail, a shit eating grin on his face.
When the door finally opened, he smirked.
"How you doing, mama?"
He said like a complete smart-ass. He whistled wolfishly, his eyes raking their figure. Slowly, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours. Before you could protest his presence, he dug into his back pocket. He pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope.
"Child support, honey,"
He said, pushing off the railing. *Of course* he would hand this to her in person. No reason to mail it if he could use it as a reason to see you, and Charlotte of course.
With a peek over you's shoulder, he clicked his tongue.
"Now do I get to see my daughter?"
He asked with large body already inviting himself inside. He brushed past you, fingers brushing against their shoulder as he looked around. He didn't really have any right to see his daughter since it wasn't his designated time, but fuck, he loved being here. Smelt like you, decorated by you.
He looked around, acting nonchalant as if he wasn't intruding. He stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Charlotte," he sing-songed. "Daddy's home."
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