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“I love this song!” You shout, as Charlie plays Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own” on the newly-installed bunker stereo. (It took you forever to convince Dean that while records are, indeed awesome, mp3s take up a lot less space.) You and Charlie hit it off the instant she entered the bunker, stopping by for a week on her way to Comic-Con. It’s been three months since the Winchesters saved your ass on a particularly nasty hunt that cost you your hunting partner, Aaron. The bunker quickly felt like home. It was comforting to have a nice place to stay and to be around two men who knew what they were doing. The friendships you developed with Sam and Dean helped you forget the pain of losing Aaron. If only you didn’t become so attached.
You convince yourself daily that your feelings for Dean Winchester are merely rebound. After all, he literally held you in his arms as you watched Aaron die. But the more time you spend with Dean—hunting, researching, hell, even grocery shopping --you know your feelings for him reach well beyond the rebound zone.
If only he felt the same way.
In the three months you’ve been with Sam and Dean, you’ve seen Dean hit on approximately twelve women and sleep with two. It would have been three, except you *accidentally* walked in on the two of them when you (ahem) drunkenly stumbled into his bedroom by mistake. Your bad.
Charlie is an excellent distraction. She’s snarky, which you adore, geeks out to a lot of the same stuff you do, and, being gay, doesn’t fire up that annoying jealousy knot that clenches in your stomach whenever you see Dean with another woman. Another woman. As if you were a woman at all in Dean’s eyes. Dean’s melty, green eyes. Sigh.
Sam and Dean sit at a table, surrounded by books, burritos, and beer bottles. They’re researching beholders, a creature you thought only existed in the realm of Dungeons and Dragons. You and Charlie decide to take a break from research with a good, old fashioned dance party. Dean, too cool for school, sits out on the revelry, but you do manage to convince Sam to strut around the room for a bit when Deee-Lite’s “Groove is in the Heart” comes on. (Charlie’s advice to Sam: “You should really stick to hunting.”)
Three beers in, you’re feeling pretty loose. The Winchesters like their booze, but you are an admitted lightweight. Which is probably why when the Robyn song comes on, you completely lose all inhibitions. It feels so good to dance like no one is watching because, as you assume, no one is. The lyrics speak to your life perfectly:
Somebody said you got a new friend
Does she love you better than I can?
You and Charlie dance around each other, jokily but provocatively stroking each other’s arms. When it comes time for the pathetically relatable chorus, you and Charlie belt it out at full volume:
I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her
I'm right over here, why can't you see me
I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home
I keep dancing on my own
The freedom of dancing recklessly overtakes you, and you jump onto a chair to attempt a stunt-like dance maneuver. You place one foot on the top and press down, hoping to smoothly tip the chair and gracefully land on your feet. Instead, you manage to knock the chair down and fall clumsily onto your face. You feel no pain, and can’t stop yourself from laughing. Charlie snorts and begins laughing uncontrollably. When she finally manages to pull you up off the floor, you feel someone’s gaze on you. You look through the archway into the next room and lock eyes with Dean. He’s smirking, obviously trying to hold in laughter at your classy dance move. Fuck him, you think. I’ll keep dancing on my own, thank you very much.
The triumphant final chorus modulation of the song hits, and you and Charlie give it your all.
“I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her! OOOHHH!!!” You scream. “I’m right over here! Why can’t you see me?!” You refuse to look at Dean when you say these words. You don’t need to him to be happy. You don’t need anyone. You don’t need---
That’s when you feel someone behind you place his strong hands on your hips. Still dancing, you flip your hair and turn around. Dean is thisclose to you, looking down at you with a strange intensity. He still wears that devilish smirk as he holds you around the waist, leans forward, and whispers in your ear, “I see you, (Y/N).” Before you have time to register the sheer awesomeness of the situation, Dean presses those swollen, delicious lips to yours, and you melt into him. He tastes yummier than every last fantasy you’ve ever had about him.
“It’s about time, bitches,” Charlie quips. You and Dean laugh between kisses as the song fades out.