“Dea-a-n!” you whined, pawing at his hand which was holding tightly onto the remote. “Come on, I wanna see Titanic!”
“We are not watching Titanic, again!” he told you firmly.
It was a Wednesday night and on Wednesdays you always had a movie night with Dean and Sam- the boys you’d known since you were in pigtails- they were like brothers to you.
Well, one of them was.
“Only because you cried at it the first time!” you shot back, smirking.
Dean narrowed his eyes. “I did no such thing.”
Cocking an eyebrow, you asked him, “Oh really?”
In a second, you were lying held against the couch underneath the hunter, his muscular body pressing yours into the cushions. “Say that again,” he challenged you, a wicked grin settling on his lips.
“Oh, it’s on, Winchester,” you grinned, tackling him upwards and dragging him down again. Play fighting between the two of you wasn’t uncommon, though it only happened when Sam wasn’t there, as was the situation at the moment.
He chuckled lightly before reaching for your waist and pulling you beneath him again and sitting himself on your legs. “You ready to take it back yet, Y/N?” he asked you sweetly.
You narrowed your eyes. “Or what?”
The hunter grinned evily and tickled his fingers lightly against your sides. Immediately you gasped out a surprised giggle. “You wouldn’t dare!”
He smiled again. “Oh, I would.” And with that, he bared your stomach and scrawled his fingers across the sensitive skin there, and soon you were howling with laughter.
Only when you shot up and grabbed his shoulders did he finally stop. “O-o-oh my God,” you gasped, clawing at his back as your laughter died down.
His arms linked behind you, out of a bit, and he chuckled into your neck.
Grinning devilishly, you pulled back slightly and pushed him down under you and leant centimetres away from his face. Your smile dropped, as did his.
Breathing slightly erratically and with your heart beating like it had a time limit, you leant closer and closer until you pressed your lips together. And, oh, it was freaking incredible. Dean reacted almost straight away, cupping your cheek with one hand and carding your hair with the other. His lips moved with yours as though they had been missing your touch since the day they first whispered your name.
Sliding your tongue along his bottom lip, you felt his teeth graze your lip and heat pooled in your abdomen. Leaning back slightly, you looked him in the eye ad whispered, “Dean, is this OK?”
And all he did was gaze back at you, adoration in his eyes, and promise you, “Nothing has ever been more OK.”
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or any of the references I used for this story.
One minute she was in the Impala with the Winchester brothers, deciding on how to catch the archangel Gabriel, and then then next she was sitting in a panel, surrounded by various fashion designers and celebrities.
“Judges,” Tyra Banks said from her right, “Have we come to a decision?” The former model looked at her expectantly.
It was the innocent, pink flowered dress mixed with your too-sweet demeanor that threw Dean off. The way you watched him play pool, sipping your drink, biting your lip, drove him crazy. So when you asked him to play he couldn’t help but say:
“No, I couldn’t take money from a pretty girl like you.” You’d batted your eyelashes, acting so naive and persistent he finally gave in. Half way through the game he realized it was an act and he’d been had.
“You just got played,” Sam laughed, elbowing his brother as you walked away, Dean’s cash still in hand. You looked over your shoulder, winking as Dean stared after you. He smirked, holding up the piece of paper you’d slid into his hand.
“You sure?” He asked. Sam grabbed the slip of paper, reading off your phone number, the paper’s decorated with a imprint of your lipstick.