Jealousy is a Blue-Eyed Monster
Word Count: 1995
A/N: Smutty smut smut warning, mature readers only please. Mild Dom!Cas. It’s slightly longer, so I’m throwing in a Keep Reading break before the smut, so, you know, keep reading! One-shot written for @roxy-davenport ’s Lexie Carver SPN Writing Challenge. Prompts - #62 “Are you jealous?” and #54 “Did you write me a love letter?”
“And this one is courtesy of a shifter in Portland three years ago, no four,” you lifted your tank top up, revealing a straight line milky scar stretching from your armpit to under your breast, “Strong bastard, turned my knife on me. It was a clean cut - I’d just sharpened the blade.”
Dean leaned closer to examine the scar, pursing his lips in approval, “Nice work, did you stitch it yourself?”
“Super glue and duct tape,” you grinned, “Trick I picked up from Bobby.”
Dean whistled, “Impressive, but I’ve got better.” He jumped up, unzipping his jeans and dropping them down to reveal his boxers. He lifted one leg up on the couch next to you, peeling the boxers up his thigh to reveal a quarter-sized dense purple marbled scar.
“What the hell?” You ran you fingers inquisitively over the scar, “That’s no bullet or stab wound.”
“Arrow, tipped with flaming holy oil,” a proud smirk plastered across his face, “And FYI, don’t ever give Sam a crossbow.”
“Friendly fire! You win!” Laughing, you threw your hands up in the air, conceding defeat.
Dean chuckled, fishing his discarded pants off the floor, “Loser makes the beer run.” He winked at you, grabbing a bottle off the table and taking the last swig.
“What is going on here?” Cas’ gravelly voice boomed the instant he appeared, taking in the sight of you and Dean, stripped down to your skivvies. He glared at Dean angrily, jaw clenched.
You flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, peeking over the couch back to look at him. In the shadows behind him, you could almost make out the outline of his wings spanning threateningly across the room.
“Woah, nothing happened Cas,” Dean raised his arms in surrender and backed several steps away from you, “Innocent fun comparing old scars.”
Both Dean and Cas’ postures relaxed as you looked between them, noting with curiosity that they shared a brief look of unspoken understanding.
“Actually, I think I’ll make the beer run, grab some fresh air,” Dean collected his shirt from the arm of the couch, pointing at you, “You owe me one.”
You lifted your chin and nodded - watching as Dean exited the room, giving Cas a wide berth.