lisa babbles

Downtown Letdown

A/N: This is my second fic for the 2017 Louden Swain SPN Mini Bang, and is for one of my favorite songs. I first heard this song when they played it at ChiCon 2015, and I fell in love with it right away. I struggled to get this fic to line up with the central themes of the song, but I hope you all agree it’s at least close. Special thanks to the best betas in the world, @littlegreenplasticsoldier and @manawhaat without whom my fics would not be nearly as legible. These two women inspire me with every word they write and push me to be better.

Summary: Dean dealing with his feelings while he’s with Lisa.

Pairing: I guess Dean and Lisa, but it’s not the focus.

Warnings: Angst, I guess. I don’t expect anyone to need tissues.

Word count: 1815 words

Originally posted by acklesjensen

Dean wakes up to a bright streak of sunlight peeking through Lisa’s bedroom curtains. Usually, he fixes the curtains before he goes to bed for exactly this reason, but last night he was a little too out of it to care. Yesterday was November 2nd. It’s been more than 25 years since his mother died, but the day still creeps up on him. It was almost noon before he realized what day it was. He doesn’t remember much of the day after that. To be fair, he’s had other things on his mind the past few months.

Sam.

Dean’s head pounds with the hangover he knows he deserves, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his gut still twisted with grief. Lisa tried to make him feel better last night and he just snapped at her. The pie was store-bought, not that it mattered. It had mattered, but there was no good reason for it.

The sunbeam has shifted, now, and is blinding the ever-loving hell out of him. He turns over to get away from it, hoping Lisa is still asleep. He’s not ready to face the disappointment and misery in her eyes. It would be merely a reflection of what he’s feeling, but it shows he should be doing a better job of hiding it from her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Right now, Lisa’s face looks peaceful and happy in the golden light. Much different to when the tears well up in her eyes as Dean rages when he’s drunk with grief. Or when he wakes her with one of his nightmares. Or when he doesn’t understand why she twists herself in knots to make sure Ben has a “good” breakfast in the morning instead of Lucky Charms or Pop Tarts. He and Sam grew up on them, so they can’t be all bad, right?

Keep reading

Elbow to Elbow

Description: Dean and the reader have to play a game for the latest case.

Relationship: Dean x reader

Elbow to Elbow

“No.” The word reverberates through the room like the crack of a whip.

Sam’s eyebrows pull up in obvious surprise at your refusal. “Y/n…”

“Don’t Y/n me!” You snap. “I’m not doing it!”

“Please?”

No, Sam.”

Please.”

“I said no!”

“What’s going on in here?”

Your heart rate picks up when Dean enters the room and your focus flies out the window when his piercing green eyes meet your own. “Nothing,” you say quickly with a vehement shake of your head. “Sam just pitched another one of his crazy ideas.” You boost yourself up to sit on the counter. “Where’s my food?”

Dean grins, reaching into the multicolored paper bag he had tucked under one arm and tossing you a greasy burger wrapped up in tin foil.

You catch it easily, unwrapping it and digging in.

“So what’s this crazy idea, Sammy? Got a lead on the case?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies, opening up his laptop again and turning the screen so Dean can see it. You eye them warily, mouth full of burger. “I think we’re dealing with another Siren.”

“Damn, I hate those crazy bitches,” Dean groans and you have to bite back a laugh. “Any idea where she is?”

“I was looking through the victims background information to try and find a connection, and the only thing they all have in common is that they were all going to some couples’ therapy class at the community center,” Sam explains. “I think that’s where she’s picking her victims.”

“Makes sense.” Dean clambers on to the counter next to you, holding a carton of fries that you snatch easily before he can move them out of your reach. “She looks for couples that are already falling apart, makes the problem worse, and then when she convinces the dude to off his girl the cops won’t question it as much.”

“Exactly. And the only way we’re going to be able to find her is if we infiltrate the class and hunt her down. So you and Y/n will go take the class and-”

“What? Sam!” you exclaim. “I told you I’m not going to do it!”

“What’s the problem?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, Y/n, what’s wrong?” Sam’s eyes glitter mischievously and you glare at him.

He knows damn well what the problem is, you think bitterly. “Why can't you guys pretend to be the couple?” you ask instead.

Dean’s jaw drops, still full of partially chewed food.

“What?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Why don’t the two of you pretend to be a couple?” you repeat. “People mistook you for gay before.”

“Yeah, but we weren’t actually doing anything gay,” Dean replies. “There’s no way in hell I’m going make goo goo eyes at Sammy, here.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, looking intently into your eyes. “Come on, it’s going to be fine. We’ll get in, kill the monster, get out, no harm done.”

You can feel your jaw clench, but you also know you can’t say no to him when he gives you that look.

“Fine!” You snap, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “We’ll go to the damn couples’ class.”

#

“Good morning, class!” The annoyingly perky blonde woman in the front of the room claps her hands with excitement. “I’m Lisa, and I’m here to help you all work out some of these romantic issues, hmm?” She winks conspiratorially. “Let’s begin with some introductions, shall we?”

You’re sitting in a folding chair next to Dean, noting with mild amusement that most of the other couples in the room are sitting in distinctly hostile positions, arms crossed, brows furrowed, mouths pulled into taut lines. The other women there are all dressed tastefully in skirts and sundresses. You look down at your skinny jeans, combat boots, and roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. Dean nudges your leg with his knee and points out a woman who has turned pointedly away from her significant other with a dramatic huff and his shoulders shake with laughter.

You smack him lightly on the chest with the back of my hand, biting back your own laughter and trying to pay attention to what’s going on around you. As the other couples introduce themselves you notice that all of them are either married or engaged. When it’s your turn to introduce yourselves, Dean speaks for the both of you.

“Dean Hansen,” he says cheerily. “And this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” He throws an arm around your shoulders as he says it. You glance at him nervously, heart pounding, before pasting a fake-feeling smile on your face and offering the group a small little wave.

“Well, I’m very glad all of you are here today,” Lisa replies, tucking a lock of bottle blonde hair behind her ear. “Now, I’m assuming that since you’re here, you and your lover are experiencing some difficulties within your relationship. First I want you all to know that every good relationship will have some bumps in the road. It is perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. I also cannot stress enough that anything you say here will be kept completely confidential. What happens in couples’ therapy stays in couples’ therapy. Just like Vegas!” She giggles a little before regaining her composure. “Now, would anyone like to share any difficulties your personal relationship is experiencing?”

The silence was so encompassing that you could have heard a pin drop.

“Oh, come now.” Lisa sticks out her lower lip, painted a gaudy shade of pink, in an over exaggerated pout. “Someone must have something to share.”

“Money!” A redheaded woman calls loudly.

“Ohhh, yes, money,” Lisa agrees. “I am so glad you said that. One of the most common sources of dissatisfaction within a relationship is issues with money. What are some other issues?”

“Sexual tension!”

It takes a moment for you to register that the answer came from Dean. You can feel your eyes bugging out of your head as you look at him.

Lisa chuckles nervously. “Well, I’m sure that’s not a problem for you, is it Mr. Hansen? I’m sure your lovely little girlfriend can’t keep her hands off of you.”

“That’s exactly my point, Lisa.” Dean tugs you a little closer, the feet of your chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. “Y/n here can’t keep her hands off of me. I find it hard to keep up with her.”

You stare at him in shock when he squeezes your side playfully before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Relax,” he whispers. “Play along.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss back.

He is still smiling when he brings his mouth next to your ear. “Nothing’s going to make a siren angrier than seeing a couple in paradise. Now laugh like I’m whispering sweet nothing’s into your ear and loosen up.”

 You force a lap from your constricted throat, casually resting your hand on his thigh in an effort to play along. Lisa is babbling some more nonsense about couples and their perfectly normal problems and you tune her out, choosing instead to survey the group and look for possible sirens. You realize you’ve been zoning out for far too long when Lisa claps her hands again.

“Wonderful! That gets all the boring talking out of the way. Now we’re going to play some games to build some trust within your relationships. Let’s start with the basics. Everyone stand up, move your chairs out of the way, and ladies stand in front of your men.”

Dean folds up your two chairs and carries them away easily before taking his place behind you. You bounce lightly on the balls of your feet in an effort to dispel some of your nerves.

“Our first exercise is called a trust fall. I’m sure you all have heard of it. Men, I want you to step back slightly from your partner." 

You feel Dean take a few steps back and you glance over your shoulder, measuring the distance.

"Now, ladies, on the count of three, you’re going to close your eyes and fall back. Don’t worry about actually falling. You have to trust that your man will be there to catch you. One. Two. Three!”

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall back. For a gut wrenching moment you think Dean is actually going to let you fall, but then you feel his arms circle tightly around your waist, tugging you close.

“Not a bad view.”  

You realize he can see down your shirt from his vantage point.

“Pervert,” you mutter.

His answering chuckle is low and throaty in your ear.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little to much, Mr. Hansen,” you say quietly, regretting the words when he pulls back with a light laugh.

“Whatever you say, Y/n.”

“Alright, everyone! Great work with the trust falls!” Lisa’s shrill voice makes you cringe. “Now it’s time for one of my favorite games! Elbow to elbow! Everyone make two circles, girls on the inside and guys in a circle around them.”

There’s some grumbling while everyone adjusts to follow her orders. 

“Excellent. I’m going to start some music, and while the music is playing the inside circle will move clockwise and the outside circle will move counterclockwise. When the music stops I’m going to shout out two body parts.” She holds up two fingers to illustrate her point. “Like elbow to elbow! Your job is to find your partner and match up these two body parts. If I say foot to forearm, one of you had better have your foot on your partner’s forearm. If I say tongue to ear, there had better be ear licking! The whole point of this exercise is to make you aware of where your partner is and what they’re doing. Communication is key. The slowest couple of each round will be eliminated! Now let’s begin!”

She pulls a remote out of the pocket of her pink pants and presses a button theatrically. Music, what sounds like a poor rendition of the Hokey Pokey, begins to blast from the speakers. The two circles begin to move. You crane your head to keep sight of Dean, never breaking eye contact as the two of you maneuver around the circle. He flashes you one of his trademark grins and you feel yourself shiver.

“Head to stomach!” Lisa shouts.

Dean tears around the edge of the circle and you rush to meet him, wincing when he slides to his knees and knocks his head into your stomach. You catch him by the hair to steady yourself, nervous at his proximity and thankful that you remembered to put on perfume before you came.

“Lyle and Margaret, you’re out! Better luck next time, sugars. Circle up!”

You return to your respective circles and you can feel your cheeks flushing when Dean winks at you, strolling leisurely around his circle. It isn’t much longer before the music stops again.

“Leg to hip!”

This time Dean is only a few feet from you and before you even register him moving he’s reached you, slipped one hand behind your knee and pulled your leg onto his hip. He looks down at you, his green gaze intense and his mouth forming a wolfish smile. Another couple is eliminated and you find yourself wondering if your heart is going to be able to handle much more of this game.

“Cheek to cheek!”

You dodge around a woman who trips in your path, nearly sliding straight past Dean, but he loops an arm around your waist and pulls you up against him, pressing his feverish cheek against your own.

“You know what I really want her to say?” he growls into your ear.

You set your hands lightly on his shoulders to steady yourself. “What’s that?”

He angles his head a little and you can feel his lips brush against your ear as he whispered, “Mouth to mouth.”

Anger surges through you, all but drowning the butterflies you’d been feeling earlier, but before you can reply the music starts to play again and he’s pulling away from you, returning to the circle.

There are only three couples left now and you vow to yourself that this time Dean isn’t going to fluster you.

“Chest to back!" 

You grin, seeing that Dean is facing the wrong direction before launching yourself onto his back. He stumbles a little before bringing his hands up to hold you secure as you lock your arms just a little too tightly around his neck. Wanting to surprise him just a little more, you press a feather light kiss to the spot where his neck curves into his shoulder before sliding off of him and returning to your place in the center of the room.

"Only two couples left! This is the final round!”

Lisa lets the music play for an agonizingly long time as you stare Dean down. His smug grin has been replaced by a more determined set to his jaw.

“Hand to butt!”

You sprint towards him, sliding your hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he does the same to you, and you wind up pressed together, glaring at each other.

“And we have our winners! Dean and Y/n! Congratulations!”

Dean pulls away from you, letting his hand linger just a little too long as he smiles at the rest of the group. You’re not paying attention, though.

You’re watching the siren.

#

“You’re sure it’s her?” Dean asks, watching as the redheaded woman who had complained about money leans against the wall.

“I’m positive. Just watch.”

Sure enough, a man who was definitely not her partner from before comes out the front doors of the community center and she approaches him. You watch in silence when she runs her hand slowly down his arm before curling her finger in a come hither gesture. He follows her easily and as soon as they turn the corner you and Dean race to close the gap.

You trail behind this new couple, weaving your way through side streets and back alleys until you come to what must be the siren’s apartment. You watch from behind a pillar as they clamber into the elevator, the girl pulling him into a kiss before the doors close, and then you look at the panel of numbers above the elevator doors, noting that the the number three is lit up.

“Third floor,” Dean says, coming to the same conclusion as you. “Let’s move.”

The two of you go sprinting up the stairs, Dean taking them two at a time, skidding to a halt at the third floor entrance. Dean holds a finger to his lips before pushing the door open silently. He peers through the gap and waits for a moment. You hear a door slam and then he is pulling you by the wrist into the hall, making a beeline for apartment number 306.

“You ready?”

You nod.

“On my mark. One. Two. Three!”

He kicks the door open and you slip past him into the room, pistol at the ready. The couple has barely made it past the threshold and without pause you squeeze the trigger and put a bullet into the siren’s head. She falls to the ground with a sickening thud and you watch in disgust as her hair recedes back into her scalp, her skin turns a sallow grey color, and her eyes go from cobalt blue to black and beady.

“What are you- Why did- What the hell is that thing?!” The man shouts, stumbling backwards and away from the creature on the ground.

“You can thank us later,” Dean snaps, lifting the siren up and carrying her into the bathroom. You follow and watch him dump the body into the bathtub, douse it in lighter fluid, and drop a match onto the corpse. You shove open the window to let out some of the smoke and then circle back through the apartment, disconnecting smoke detectors to avoid alerting the whole building. The siren’s would-be victim is now passed out on the floor.

“You alright?” Dean asks when he comes to join you.

“Fine,” you reply. “She never stood a chance.”

He grins. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”

“Agreed.”

You walk in companionable silence back to the community center, clambering into the Impala with a contented sigh.

“So,” Dean begins as he puts the key into the ignition. “How about Elbow to Elbow round two when we get back?”

You bark out a laugh. “I am never playing that game again.”

“Not even if I say mouth to mouth?”

“Not even then, Dean.” You turn your head to look out the window, watching the scenery blur by and missing the lingering look he gives you.

“Now that’s a damn shame,” he mutters under his breath.

But he knows you’ll come around.

dudes you all know i’m a gordian knot of fuckup hurtling toward the unknown with negative common sense but if i can walk into a leasing office by myself and charisma crit the manager into not only letting me rent with five cats but CUTTING MY PET DEPOSIT IN HALF you all can do anything you want

also, someone ironed my leggings. at first i thought it was just from being folded on the shelf but no, they are ironed. there is a nice solid crease all the way down to my ankles, like a pair of slacks. but they’re not slacks. they’re my leggings. my mom’s boss irons his jeans which is not something i’d do but fine. these are l eggings. WHO IRONS LEGGINGS