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“In olden days, a glimpse of stockings was looked upon as something shocking, now heaven knows - anything goes…no, no, no,” Bobbi croons, ending with a mumble after missing a note. Anna makes sure that when she stops playing the piano, she does so dramatically.

“Come on, sweetie. You’ve got this,” she urges.

“Mom, I don’t! I can’t get these damn notes!”

“So keep going. The more you run the song, the better you’ll get.”

“Mom,” she groans, the word stretched out and low. Though she’s been standing behind the piano bench, she crosses the living room and collapses on the couch next to Cas.

He puts his hand on her shoulder and clears his throat.

“I can’t do it, Papa,” grumbles Bobbi in reply.

“You don’t know that,” Cas says, and she just groans, burying her head into a pillow.

Dean sets aside their not-yet-prepared dinner and goes over to the living room.

“Come on,” he says, kneeling down next to the couch. He was getting too old for this. “Let’s get your sister and Aunt Charlie and Uncle Sam and get this party started. Whaddaya say, hmm?”

Bobbi turns her head towards him, a frail glare in her glossy eyes.

“Toldja this when you did your audition, didn’t I? It’s supposed to be fun. So if you’re having trouble,” he presses, pausing deliberately, giving her an expectant look.

“You gotta make it fun,” Bobbi eventually finishes, her voice still dull but her expression less bitter.

“Come on,” Dean says again, smiling and then - slowly - pushing himself up from the floor. He holds his hand out to her and after a couple annoyed sighs, she grabs it and stands back up.

“There you go…now, go call after your sister and we’ll make it a gas, yeah?”

She nods - tentatively, but she nods, and she walks down about half the hall before calling out.

“MaryEllen, get your butt to the living room!”

All three parents laugh - Anna’s the one who mutters “well, you did say call after,” and Dean feigns offense and tells her to hush. Cas summons Sam and Charlie from their work on Charlie’s motorcycle, and by the time Anna and the other girls have decided to get, and then gotten, all dressed up, Dean’s managed to fix most of dinner - he’s not particularly surprised when Cas gets the girls to set the table and grabs a bottle of their celebratory champagne and a few glasses. He comes into the kitchen with a lowkey suit on, and slings a tie around Dean’s neck as he’s putting cheese on their pasta.

Dean snatches a kiss before letting Cas head back to the dining room, and slips the salad bowl into his hands. Cas laughs with a slight shake of his head, but grabs a pair of tongs and takes the salad out to the table.

Charlie queues up her show tunes playlist for dinner, and gives little MaryEllen a sip of her champagne when she thinks the other adults aren’t watching. She selects the musical’s soundtrack just before they finish, and sets her tablet up on top of the piano; when Dean and Cas head to do the dishes, she pulls Anna into the living room for a dance. She pulls Sam along, too, but doesn’t manage to get him to dance with them. Dean can just barely hear Anna tell him that he’ll have to dance with one of the girls (he accedes) and of course, MaryEllen reaches for his hand within minutes and he swoops her up into his arms and sways about, with what Dean thinks are some moves from his own school musical days.

“All right, Winchester clan. We all ready?” Anna asks when Dean and Cas get to the living room, and she glances around at everyone’s faces.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for, Mommy, but I think I’m ready!” exclaims MaryEllen, and after a collective laugh, Charlie informs her that they’re having a party. Somehow, the little girl gets even brighter.

“I love parties!”

“I know you do,” affirms Anna, who then looks to Bobbi, who shrugs. Anna tsk-tsks, and starts the soundtrack.

“‘Kay then, ladies and gents, let’s boogie!” she says, and she and Charlie immediately start dancing.

“Oh my god, Mom, no,” Bobbi laments the datedness of Anna’s language, but she giggles, and when the lyrics come back around and Anna grabs the sheet music from the piano and pushes it into her hands, she starts singing again, this time joined by other voices.

“Good authors, too, who once knew better words now only use four-letter words writing prose, anything goes!”