Work Text:
Danneel sits, legs crossed, on the hood. Wind-dried raindrops from 170 miles ago rub off on her dress, tiny dust clouds like magic. Danneel sips deeply, sound of pleasure deep in her throat. Roadside coffee is the best. You stand next to her, awkward hand on the sleeve of her coat, like holding a kid's hand at a crowded festival .
You were driving and the sun in your eyes lit up the color in Danneel’s
hair, high in her cheeks as she read you excerpts of the internet, descriptions of your husbands’ penises. Loves a good penis description, Dani.
Her laughter and the wind wild boxed in the car on the freeway.
Your parents asked if you were going to come home for the holidays. How are you supposed to say 'won't be home for Christmas, gonna spent it with my husband’s friend’s parents instead of you '? You tell them you'll be with Jared's family this year. It is not exactly a lie. You miss your sister. Jensen's mother tells the best stories.
Danneel opens the wing of her coat for you, and you cozy in. Sometimes you find yourself thinking - what if the world knew about the guys? Officially knew, really knew. Irrationally, a wistful conclusion floats in – if the world knows, Danneel would finally be family. Like what you are now is not, not a family yet, like it isn't real yet, just waiting.
Sometimes you don't know about Jared and Jensen yourself.
The heater's blasting and you want every bit of warmth. You curl into Danneel's coat in the passrnger seat, drifting off to Danneel making tiny moves with the radio, bra only, winter sun painting light on her skin, nose crinkling, arms strong on the wheel. She loves to drive. She doesn't officially look at you, but her hand is in your hair, pulls the coat up comfy. Jared does it too. Says - maybe our kids will get married. We'll get to be in-laws