flinched as Jean’s fingers accidentally pressed too hard against her swollen
ankle, her foot reflexively kicking against his hold.
scolded lightly, grabbing onto the guilty foot as his fingers pulled away from
her ankle. “Stop kicking me and this will go a lot faster.” Mikasa narrowed her
eyes at him as she kicked his arm with her other foot. Jean gave her a hard
look. “Now that’s just immature.”
taking too long,” Mikasa said shortly, looking up at the sky. The clouds were
moving fast, ushering in an impending storm as the sun continued its descent in
the west. They were only a mile or two away from the training compound, close
enough to outrun the rain if Jean would just hurry up and bandage her ankle. It
was humiliating enough that she’s gotten hurt at all; she didn’t need to be
carried home in Jean’s arm when all she needed was a temporary bandage to give
her the support she needed to make it that last mile home. She also didn’t need
any rumors to start that something was going on between the two of them; they’d
kept it so well hidden the past two months, and a sprained ankle seemed like a
real lame way to give it away.
He’d been packed to leave town when he had found Lexi. Bloody and hurt. He had been afraid he’d lose her. Just met or not, Travis didn’t want her to die. Days passed until she was a little better. He’d been feeding her soup from a can, warmed on a hot plate at a small, out of the way hotel. Cleaning and rebandaging her.
It was maybe a week gone by and he had stopped watching the news. He’d stopped wondering if the power would come back on when it would go out. So far, it kept coming back.
He’d ventured out, to pick through what was left of the convenience store beside the hotel, to get much needed supplies. They would be heading out soon. When he returned, she was out of bed, which was good. Walking would be good for her. And wearing his clothes. His jeans were cinched with a belt and rolled to her ankles, though not much. She was a leggy thing. And his shirt. She swam in it. But it made him smile as he locked up after himself. “A good look on you. You ready to head out…?” It was time to put some miles between them and the city.
“Well Travis, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be— I’m not sure that means I’m actually ready but you know— it’s time to hit the road as they say. I’m not sure staying here any longer is a good idea.”
She’d tried to get in contact with her brother while he was away. The world was getting worse and if anyone knew what was going on, it would be him. She smiled at Travis, taking his hand for balance as they left towards the car. Her legs were still a bit unstead and she wasn’t quite sure of herself yet.
“I still can’t get a hold of my brother. I’m not sure what you think we should do but he’d be at the CDC in Atlanta if it’s still there. I don’t know— I’ve got clearance to get in but I’m not even sure if it’s safe there. I’d say we should try to find other people but that might not be a good idea either.” She laughed, “you’d think I’d never made a hard decision in my life before. Ask me now or when to cut into a human brain, I’d have no problem telling you exactly what to do, ask me where we should go from here and I’m clueless. This is why my brother and father made all these kind of decisions for me, I’m kinda— well it makes me nervous and I never know if I’m doing the right thing.”
Her hand gripped his tighter and she pulled him towards her, so she could look him in the eyes, something she rarely ever did. “All I really know is, I owe you my life for saving mine. I trust you more then anyone else right now and I’ll follow whatever you think we should do. Just please know you can trust me too.”
The first thing Sam noticed about you was your lean,
athletic legs sheathed in black skinny jeans and cinched black boots.
The first thing Dean noticed about you was your 1965 Mustang
Fastback and the way its black body gleamed in the dim sunlight.
“Agents,” you called to the boys as you crossed the dewy
grass toward their suddenly frozen forms. As you approached, you continued, “I
wasn’t aware the Bureau was sending the two of you.” You flashed a bright smile
toward the local cop who was watching your interaction, oblivious of the effect
it had on the brothers, who gulped nervously in unison. Sam shot Dean a
confused glance and Dean shook his head in response; neither of them recognized
Soon, you were only inches away from them, forming a tight
circle, not wanting to be heard by anyone else.
“Pack up, boys, I got this,” you whispered, cracking a small
smile. You were just starting to back away when Dean found his voice.
“H-hold on,” he said, unable to stop the slight stutter in
his voice. “What do—who the hell are you?”
You laughed, your chuckle further stunning the two men
before you. “Name’s Y/N. And you’re the Winchesters.” You chuckled again at
their open-mouthed gazes. “Now that we’re done with the pleasantries, I’ll
handle this case and you two can scurry on home. This is my jurisdiction.”
You began to walk away, toward the local LEO, intent on
“Your juris—” stammered Sam.
“Bye,” you cut him off with a smile and a wave, turning to
face the cop and listen to his story.
Sam and Dean watched you interact for a moment, Sam with
wide, incredulous eyes and Dean’s lips in a slight frowny pout.
“She’s…” Dean began, leaving the sentence hanging.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, eyes still on you as you bent to examine
“Dibs,” Sam and Dean said at the exact same time, turning to
stare at each other.
“She’s not your type, Dean,” Sam broke the silence, rolling
“Like hell she isn’t,” argued Dean, “Did you see her car? I’d
say it’s meant to be.”
“Please,” scoffed Sam, glancing back at you questioning the
witnesses. When he looked back at his brother, Dean had his right fist aloft in
his left hand, his face set in determination. “Oh, come on, Dean, quit being so
immature,” Sam continued.
“Fine, then I’m sure you won’t mind if I go over and ask her
out right now,” challenged Dean. Sam frowned at him and huffed, squaring his
“Fine,” he said, “On three.”
After three counts, Dean’s fingers formed scissors while Sam’s
remained in a fist. Dean cursed
violently, while Sam smiled triumphantly, grabbing Dean’s shoulders.
“Always the scissors, Dean,” Sam said, chuckling and shaking
his head, before turning on his heel and making his way toward you.