Author's Note: Ever heard of a movie called "Dan in Real Life?" Yeah, I loved it too. Well, a few months ago I thought it would be nice to use the premise for my own fanfic. I had a lot going on back then so I didn't take this too seriously, but now I'm mostly free and ready to dive into it. If this is something that you'd like to keep reading, let me know and I'll keep updating it. It won't be scene by scene like the movie. I just wanted to borrow the general premise. So, you're in for a surprise, and I'm in for a challenge.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were all packed and ready in paper lunch bags on the kitchen counter. Dean had drawn smiley faces with the strawberry jelly on the slices of bread.

This was a good day. Finally, the annual chance to get away from everything had come. With the help of his family, Dean might just survive a few more years of his distressful life. Despite his eldest daughter fighting him tooth and nail to get out of their traditional getaway, Dean was not giving it up. This would be good for all of them. He had to believe that.

Life in Little Falls was mostly quiet. His daughters were older now, and Dean wasn't needed as much. New York was a good place to reside in because it made personal meetings with his agent and editor that much easier. If that wasn't an important factor, Dean would make the move to Rhode Island, where they would go today.

There wasn't much to see in the small state, but Dean liked it. Dean always wanted to spend more of his time there. But he settled for what he had. No—he liked what he had, there was no settling. His daughters were his life. Without them, nothing would really matter anymore.

Without announcing her entrance, Charlie reached around Dean for one of the paper bags. Slightly startled, Dean jumped up. Glancing at his daughter, he placed a hand upon his chest and smiled.

"Hi, honey. Are you ready for school?" Dean bent his knees to meet her eyelevel. He ran a hand through her smooth red hair, pushing it back and away from her face. "Do you want me to braid your hair today?"

Charlie shook her head, gripping the paper bag. "No, daddy. Emma won't come out of the bathroom. I need to go."

Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed and stood up straight. "Come on." Dean held Charlie's hand and walked over to the bathroom. As expected, the white door was shut. Dean knocked on it and waited, but there was no response. "Emma, your sister needs to use the bathroom. Could you please hurry up?"

"She's seven," Emma called out. "She doesn't need to try as hard to look slightly presentable."

Charlie let go of his hand and banged a tiny fist against the door. "Don't be a big jerk, Emma! I have to use the bathroom."

A moment later, and after a sound of locks being turned, the door opened. With half of her brown hair straight and the other half wavy, Emma stood on the doorway, holding a flat iron. Her glance drifted down to her little sister.

"Make it quick, punk," Emma said, pushing past both of them and into her room.

"Emma!" Dean yelled, but the bedroom door was still slammed, shutting him out. "Go ahead, honey," he told Charlie.

Charlie walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Dean stood in the hallway between closed doors and two very different daughters. He sighed and leaned against a wall.

He spent the entire day cleaning the house and packing for their trip. Dean did the laundry and packed snacks for the road. Then, he drove to Emma's high school and parked outside, waiting for her. He thought of his writing, and the possibility of his latest book getting turned into a film. An actual film. With real actors and a premiere date and one of those awful movie poster on the cover of his book.

Dean wrote realistic fiction. His most current novel was darker than the others, but his readers had posted a majority of positive reviews on Goodreads.

He was constantly fascinated by the lives around him, by the marvelous things people did for each other, the things they were capable of doing. Kindness was what he lived to see, to witness. Sometimes it came in small packages, and sometimes you had to practice it with someone else. But real life also came with struggles, with pain, and with tragedy.

The Life of Kevin was by far his most successful book yet, and there were talks about turning it into a movie. Of course, as these things were, nothing was truly certain until the movie actually went into production.

This book was about a single dad named Kevin Tran who lived in Kansas with his teenage son, Ben. Kevin had a minimum wage job at a local diner, and every month he had to sell another one of his possessions to afford the rent and bills and groceries. Suddenly, Ben started bringing money to the house, and lots of it. He brought up to a thousand dollars a week, without any explanation as to where he came up with the cash.

Kevin took the money the first few times because it was somehow better to accept possible drug money than to lose their home and end up on the street. That was when his life turned upside down, and in the midst of his mirage of success, Kevin found out the truth. His son, his precious son, had succumbed to prostitution. For a few hundred bucks, Ben would provide his services for paying customers of both genders. Kevin didn't learn this from his son; he witnessed it on an alleyway one night on his way home from work.

On his knees, Ben was blowing some fat man in a suit. There wasn't much Kevin could do, besides confront his son about it. The thing was, Ben had been working under a pimp, and his life no longer belonged to him. Most of the book consisted of the war Kevin had to start in order to win back his son, and to make things right again. In the end, Kevin did get Ben out of that lifestyle, but it was a little too late. Ben caught HIV from one of his "clients" and that was something he would have to live with for the remainder of his life.

You win some, you lose some, Dean thought.

There was a knock on his car window that pulled Dean out of his stupor. He rolled down his window when he saw Emma standing there with a bright grin on her face. "Can I drive?"

Leaning an elbow on the door, Dean raised his eyebrows. "Absolutely not."

"But that's not—"

"My Impala is a member of this family, and if you wreck her, we would all be very disappointed."

"Why do you assume I'm going to crash? I have my driver's license, dad! You treat me worse than you treat Charlie. I'm seventeen." Determined, Emma folded her arms over her chest. "My boyfriend says I'm an excellent driver."

Scowling, Dean opened the door and stepped out of the car. "Why don't you repeat that to me? I don't think I heard you right."

Emma looked away and took a step back. "My boyfriend. What? I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend now?"

Letting his jaw drop, Dean rested his hands on his hips. "I thought we had an agreement, Emma. If you wanted to start dating, you would have to bring the guy—or girl, it doesn't matter—over to the house so I could meet this person. Otherwise, it would be completely off the table."

Emma scoffed. "That is so stupid. Nobody does that anymore, dad."

"I don't care who does that. I'm doing that." Dean wagged a finger in front of Emma. "No boyfriend until I get to meet him."

Groaning in frustration, Emma stomped her way to the passenger side and slid inside. Feeling a new weight on his shoulders, Dean got behind the wheel and drove to the elementary school to pick up Charlie.

"You're a lot like your mother," Dean told Emma at a stop light. "You look just like her, too."

Lisa had been beautiful. She'd had glowing tan skin, and dark brown eyes. Her smile was always radiant and joyful. She had big, full lips that were always smooth and sweet. Dean had loved her. He'd loved to love her. During their years married, when they decided to have a baby, they tried countless times with no success. It was a near miracle when Lisa showed him that pregnancy test one afternoon and nine months later, Emma was born. She was the mere image of Lisa. When Dean held her in his arms, he found a complete new way to love someone. It was overwhelming.

They had always wanted to adopt. Charlie came to their life just at the right time. She was two months old when Dean and Lisa met her, and she smiled to him for the first time when he spoke to her. Charlie was full of giggles. In hindsight, she played an important role in the years after he lost Lisa. Her smiles were contagious, for both Emma and Dean.

Lisa didn't get to see Charlie take her first step, or say her first word, or attend her first day of school. But Dean tried to keep her memory alive all the same.

"I know, dad," Emma finally said, right before turning up the volume on the radio.

Dean parked the car, leaving a pouty Emma in the passenger seat while he went inside the school to pick up Charlie. As soon as she saw him from her classroom, Charlie went to him and wrapped both her arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Dean hugged her back, indulging in the feeling of still understanding one of his daughters.

When she pulled back, she smiled up at him and then reached for his hand. Charlie wasn't afraid to be seen holding her father's hand. No, she actually looked a little proud. Or so Dean wanted to believe.

"Do me a favor, honey," Dean said, walking with Charlie down the hallway. "Stop growing."

With an open mouth and a confused look, Charlie turned to him.

Dean laughed. "Never mind."

"You sure?"

Dean nodded, smiling. "Yes, Charlie."

As they got near the exit, Charlie tugged on his hand. "You see that lady by the water fountain? That's Ms. Mills, my music teacher."

He looked to the far right. Dean spotted a tall, blonde woman in a fitted dress. She took a quick drink and walked in their direction.

"Say hi!" Charlie stage whispered.

In passing, Ms. Mills smiled and nodded at both of them, and Dean got out a quick "Hello."

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Charlie asked, looking back. "She's my favorite teacher."

"Is she?"

"She's also single."

Dean pushed open one of the doors and held it open for Charlie to walk through. He pulled his keys out and glanced back to his youngest daughter. "Well, I'm sure she will find a nice partner someday."

He didn't want to push the subject any further. Dean didn't want his daughter to see how uncomfortable the thought made him. Dating had been difficult since he lost Lisa. He had been set up by friends and family multiple times, but Dean had never made a connection. Not with anyone. It made him wonder if something was wrong with him. Was he still capable of feeling something genuine for someone again? The thought terrified him.

Loving someone meant making an exception. It meant risking his long-built comfort and adding a constant presence for his daughters. Loving someone meant changing or altering his routine, hoping that the person would understand that fitting into his life would be no easy task. He had unspoken fears and quite a close, large family. Dean had a load of guilt on his back, and he knew it was a pain in the ass for those around him. But most importantly, loving someone was a risk because nothing could guarantee the same sentiment being returned. Even if that person did love you back, there was still that risk of losing them.

No. Dean wasn't ready for any of that.

Charlie hopped in the backseat and Dean drove straight to Rhode Island. He clenched his fists on the steering wheel, relaxing to the soft music in the car. Despite their constant bickering, Dean and Emma had one thing in common. They loved soft rock.

"Daddy, I passed my spelling test," Charlie said from the backseat.

Dean glanced at her on the rearview mirror. He smiled as soon as he met her eyes. "Did you really? That's great, honey."

She nodded. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Clearing his throat, Dean lowered the music. "I'm fine, Charlie. You okay?"

When he glanced at the rearview mirror, he caught her frowning. "I think you're sad."

Dean swallowed. "Sad? I'm not sad."

"Okay," Charlie said, accepting the lie.

There were only a few places in the world that were comparatively more beautiful than this vacation home in Rhode Island. One of them being the Egyptian pyramids. But this? This was home.

The house was huge. Its size shouted confidence. With only two stories, the house stretched to the sides. It was painted a dark green color that Dean could never find whenever he visited the Home Depot near his house. He had come close to it, but it wasn't right. The porch at the front was long and spacious, able to sit his entire family. And in the back, the lake was only a few feet away. Unfortunately, the weather was hardly ever warm enough for a swim, but Dean didn't mind. The sight was what mattered.

Emma hopped out of the Impala, slamming the door to show her anger. He knew what she was doing. He knew she was irritated and frustrated and so vulnerable all at the same time, and she just wanted to show it. Dean acknowledged her feelings, he did, but as always, he was at a complete loss for words. As a writer, that happened more often than one would assume.

Dean opened the trunk and handed Emma's bag to her, which she took without a word. "This will be fun," Dean muttered as she walked away. With a hop, Charlie got out of the car and helped Dean with her own bag. "Thank you, honey."

"She'll get over it," Charlie said, sounding sure. "I know her."

As always, Dean felt a glimmer of hope igniting his spirits whenever he talked to Charlie. He smiled and rustled her hair before they walked up to the house.

At the porch, John greeted them. His hair was mostly gray, but he had not yet lost his perfect posture. Dean smiled warmly at his dad, but John only had eyes for the giggly redhead.

Dean watched them hug before he leaned in to hug John, who led them inside.

"Glad you made it, Dean-o," John said.

"Me too."

The living room was packed tight with people he adored, and that made it all worthwhile. Adam, Dean's youngest brother, pulled him into a warm hug—his family was filled with huggers. There was a new light in Adam's green eyes; he seemed truly happy.

"You look good," Dean told him.

Adam ran a hand through his honey colored hair. "I feel good. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow."

Then Dean was being dragged away by Sam, the middle brother, who gave Dean a playful punch in his arm for old time's sake. Sam's brown hair was out of control, and so were his sideburns. Apparently he was letting everything grow.

"Hey, Sammy. How did Henry do on his writing exam?" Dean asked. After many tutoring sessions, Dean was anxious to know how Sam's youngest son had improved on the subject. Dean was a writer, but he was definitely not a teacher. But Sam and Jessica hadn't minded that fact at the time they'd asked for his help.

"He did really well," Sam said, looking around him. "Here he is." He pulled a short boy who was running around the place towards him. Henry stood there with pink cheeks and sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. "Dean wants to know how you did on your writing test."

"I got an 87," Henry said impatiently. "I'm playing catch, so can I go?"

Amused, Dean nodded. "Go have fun. And congrats on your B plus." Dean shrugged at Sam. "I guess we did what we could."

Sam waved a hand. "Come on! He was getting fifties on those essays. Also, his cursive has really improved. Thanks, Dean."

"I'm glad I could help," Dean said. He noticed Jessica approaching them and smiled. "Hi, Jess. How are you?"

Jessica kissed his cheek before doing the same to Sam. "Dean, did Sam tell you about Henry?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Hopefully he doesn't forget what I taught him in a few days."

Dean couldn't help but admire how young and beautiful Jessica looked at her age and after three kids from his gigantic brother. He instantly thought of Lisa, and how she would look if she were here now, her face glowing with a grin the size of the moon.

He stepped away to greet the rest of his family. Bobby, Jody, and their two kids. And in the kitchen, preparing a big meal for everyone, Mary stood behind a large counter, chopping tomatoes.

"Hi, mom. Need any help?"

Mary smiled warmly, and shook her head. "Dean, what did you tell Emma? She came in here screaming about how much she wishes she was the adopted one."

Dean sighed heavily. "That's—I've heard that one before. Plenty of times. She's—I don't think I know how to be her dad, Mom. I know how to be a dad, in general, but being Emma's father is a total mystery."

"Wait until Charlie turns thirteen," Mary said, nudging Dean with her arm. "You think she's easy, but you just wait a few more years."

Dean shook his head at the frightening thought. "I wish someone would just invent some kind of machine that would make children stay children. Not too young, so that I have to potty train them again, but not old enough like Emma. Every kid a parent has should stay Charlie's age. Life would be a doozy."

Setting her knife down, Mary threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, sweetheart. It's not a wonder why you keep writing those books. By the way, have you heard anything about the movie deal?"

"Not a word," Dean said. "If it'll happen, it'll happen. We'll just have to wait and see."

"I'm sure it will, dear. It would be such a heartbreaking film."

"I didn't mean to write a heartbreaking story," Dean said, as though he were trying to excuse what he'd written. He wasn't. It was the story that formed in his mind and it poured out of it through his swift fingers on a keyboard, and he wasn't ashamed of it. No matter how "Lifetime" it was.

"Life is a constant heartbreak," Mary said softly, and then she went back to chopping tomatoes. "Which remind me: since we'll have a special guest this year, you'll have to sleep in the basement. Don't you give me that look, Dean. I cleaned it up, and I found you a nice twin bed. There are still some boxes there, but you'll have more than enough stretching space."

"I understand," Dean said. He did. Besides Adam, Dean was the only single adult in this family, so it made sense that either he or Adam would get tossed down to the basement. Dean didn't ask why it had been him. He just accepted it.