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‘I think we should park here,’ you explained, pointing to a dense part of woodland you’d clocked on the map that had solid cover near the old, abandoned mill where your vamp nest was currently hiding out, ‘then if you two use the south entrance, you’ll be able to get a jump on those keeping watch and clear the nest before the rest even know we’re in the building.’
‘What about you?’ Sam asked lightly.
‘I figure if I go up this way,’ you explained, your finger ghosting along the treeline, ‘I’ll be able to get in the back, catch any stragglers that make a run for it.’
‘Not bad. Anyone running will probably be a better target for you anyway,’ Sam said but there was no bite to it, just strategy. He knew you didn’t need help, but you weren’t exactly built like them. Anyone running would likely be weaker and easier to take down.
‘Yeah, then once I’m in, I can help back you up,’ you nodded.
You hadn’t taken offence at Sam’s words. You knew it was strategy, a team working with what they had. You did however mind the scoff that echoed from across the room.
You looked over and found Dean cleaning his gun, hand casting over the slide with a rag. He didn’t look up as you looked over. He just waited for you to take the bait.
‘You got a problem, Grandpa?’ you asked, straightening up from where you’d been bent over the table.
‘Yeah, I wanna stay alive,’ he muttered.
‘And I don’t?’
‘Not by the sounds of that so-called plan,’ he said. He hadn’t looked at you which was more infuriating than being called out.
‘Do you have a better idea?’ you challenged. Finally his eyes landed on you.
‘Can’t be much worse,’ he shrugged.
‘Right,’ you drawled, watching as he got up and walked towards the map, ‘because your strategy of shoot first and hope your knee doesn’t give out is real great.’
Dean paused as he reached you, the pair of you staring each other down, a smirk tugging at his lips as he said, ‘don’t worry about me sweetheart I can handle myself.’
‘Is that what we’re calling it these days?’ you said, turning around to follow him as he sidled to the other side of the table, leaning his hands on the wood as he inspected the map and ignored you, ‘thought it was just being slow.’
That got a glare and a subtle shift from Sam. Dean pulled back, his voice dropping low.
‘It’s not being reckless and if you’re not careful, you’ll not get a chance to be because you’ll be staying right here,’ he warned.
‘You think you could catch me, old man?’ you asked, folding your arms across your chest with a smile. Dean’s jaw ticked.
‘You-’
‘Would you two stop?’ Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. Like he always did when you two got at it. The pair of you were like dogs baring teeth and barking without ever actually biting. Broken apart when someone grabbed your collar and forced you to stop looking at one another. You went first, looking at him expectantly forcing Dean roll his eyes and follow suit. Of course you’d behave for Sam.
‘Look it’s not a bad plan,’ he started, shooting Dean a warning look when he rolled his eyes again. He looked back at you reiterating, ‘but we need to be careful.’
You didn’t care about the warning. You just heard Sam say you were right and beamed.
‘Great, I’ll go get ready,’ you nodded, grabbing your jacket off the back of the chair as you headed for the door. Though you hovered when you opened it, hand on the knob as you called Sam’s name.
‘Yeah?’ he asked, both brothers looking up.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ you vowed, ‘after all, I’m not the one who might break a hip.’
Then you smiled smugly and disappeared out the door. Sam fought a smile and shrugged when Dean looked over at him with a glare that could kill. Then he huffed and headed to the kitchen on other side of the room, letting Sam sit at the table gathering the rest of what they’d need. He appeared a moment later, beer in hand, taking a seat at the table but not moving to help out of punishment.
He was too busy thinking of you. How you got under his skin. How he never said anything right and how you always had a reply for whatever he offered. And he fell for it every single time.
‘She’s got a mouth on her,’ Dean grumbled, popping the cap off his bottle and tossing it onto the table, where it skittered across the map. As he took a swig Sam snorted.
‘What?’ Dean demanded.
‘You’re saying that like you don’t like it,’ Sam answered, not looking up from his laptop. Dean stilled, watching his brother.
‘What?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Oh come on,’ Sam smiled though it faded when he saw Dean’s face, ‘hang on… are you serious?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You and her,’ Sam said, dragging the words out like that would make them make sense. When Dean raised his eyebrows Sam’s knitted together, ‘wait, you think this is just something she has going with everyone?’
‘Yes.’
Because this was just what you were like. He’d watched it a thousand times over. He watched you most of the time, waiting on guard for whatever you were going to throw his way. Watching the way your smile turned to a smirk or when your eyes glinted when they locked on him. Sam shifted.
‘Okay… well she doesn’t do it with me. Or Cas,’ Sam started, ‘and I mean she’s downright sweet to Jack-’
‘Yeah, because she likes pissing me off that’s why,’ Dean said. Sam just looked at him. Like he always did when he was waiting for him to catch up. And then a million thoughts flashed through his head. A million interactions. You baiting him and grinning when he took it; you searching the room for him just to rile him up; him tossing out honey, princess, and sweetheart because he knew it got to you.
But it hadn’t been anything more than that. He didn’t mean it like that.
Did he?
But the way Sam was looking at him was like he was a kid on the playground pulling a little girl’s hair because he liked her. The way he’d sighed earlier wasn’t because he was scared you two were going to tear chunks out of one another but like he knew you were both having fun with it. Like you liked it.
‘No,’ Dean said, shaking his head and taking another drink.
‘Why not?’ Sam asked.
‘Because!’
‘Because what? Because she’s younger than you? Because you’ve got too much baggage? Because you actually might want to see her more than one night?’ Sam offered.
‘Alright stop,’ Dean insisted.
‘I’m just saying-’
‘Well don’t!’ he snapped. Sam sighed and held his hands up in defeat, going back to his laptop as Dean sat there stewing.
He just stared at the door where you’d gone. Thinking of everything he’d apparently been missing. Everything Sam had pointed out now sitting heavy in his chest. Because it was all true. He was too old for you. Too jaded. He had more baggage than an airport and no one deserved that.
And, he realised, because Sam might have a point about the whole one-night thing. Of course he’d thought you were pretty. He liked having you around, you were good with them, you fit in. And he hadn’t wanted to fuck that up. That’s why baring teeth had been easier. It’s why he’d liked it.
Dean only came out of his head when Sam started packing up, laptop shoved in his bag before he started peeling the map from the table and cleared his throat for Dean to move his bottle. Dean obeyed and stood up, but he didn’t move he just hovered, his voice dropping low as he said, ‘you, um, you really think that she…’
Sam looked up, pausing when he saw Dean’s face. Then he leant forward and patted a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.
‘Dean, nobody spends that much time and energy trying to get a rise out of you unless they’re trying to get your attention.’
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Three days.
Dean hadn’t talked to you for three days. You didn’t know why. Of course he spoke to you when he had to. When it was about the case or basic instructions but there was none of the usual warmth in it. He didn’t take your bait, didn’t offer any of his own. Everything you said just sounded stiff or worse mean until you’d given up saying anything at all.
The worst bit was you didn’t even know what you’d done. You’d asked Sam but he’d shrugged and said he didn’t know. You’d replayed every conversation you’d had in the last couple of days but again nothing made sense. Your last proper conversation had been about the vamp nest plan, and it wasn’t like you’d actually fought. Maybe it was that it had gone well and you’d proved him wrong. Maybe it was that you’d actually saved his ass when a gigantic vamp had ambushed him against a piece of old machinery and his pride couldn’t take it. Maybe it was the joke you’d made about him being slow. Maybe it was all the jokes you’d made. You’d thought they were just fun, hell, he gave as good as he got. But maybe you’d misinterpreted it. Maybe you were just a kid who irritated him and couldn’t see it. So you stopped. You went quiet and tried to pretend like it didn’t bother you.
Like you didn’t miss him, even when he was sitting right there.
‘Where’s Sam?’ you asked as you stepped out of the bathroom.
‘Went to the library,’ Dean said, his words catching as he looked up and saw you. It was still early so you hadn’t got changed yet; you were still in your pyjamas a tank top and a tiny pair of sleep shorts and nothing more. Because that was the thing, in the two days he’d not spoken to you, you’d still plagued his mind. Only now there were things he hadn’t let himself think of, ideas that bubbled up in his brain as you padded towards your duffle on the bed. Dean cleared his throat.
‘I said we’ll go interview the vics families, then head to the morgue,’ he explained.
‘Yeah okay,’ you said, not looking up from where you were sifting through clothes looking for your fed suit.
‘Did you just agree?’ Dean said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. You paused, pantyhose in hand, and looked at him with a furrowed brow.
‘Yeah why?’
‘What do you mean why?’ Dean said, closing the laptop and turning to face you, ‘you never agree.’
‘Yes, I do,’ you replied.
‘Not without a fight,’ he scoffed.
‘Hang on, you’re mad at me for agreeing with you now?’ you challenged, folding your arms across your chest.
‘Yeah,’ Dean said, standing up, ‘yeah I am.’
‘Why?’ you baulked.
‘Why are you agreeing?’ he challenged, stepping closer.
‘Because it’s no fun when you don’t do it back!’
You paused as soon as the words came out, regret and embarrassment prickling at your skin. Dean blinked.
‘Wait, what?’ he asked.
‘I thought…you know what forget, it’s nothing,’ you muttered, retreating to the safety of the kitchen like standing with your back to him whilst you made coffee would save you.
But Dean just followed you.
‘No c’mon smart ass,’ he said. He caught your wrist, turning you around until you were pinned between him and the counter. He looked down at you, eyes burning into yours, waiting. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, your throat dry.
‘It’s not… I thought we…’ you stammered, lost for words, ‘I thought this thing-’
‘Your mouth?’ Dean challenged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
‘This thing,’ you insisted, ‘I thought it was just fun. I thought you were flirting,’
‘Oh.’
You felt his grip loosen and you stomach sank. And then you weren’t mouthing off you were rambling.
‘And then you stopped and I didn’t know what it was did. So I figured you weren’t actually flirting and I was just pissing you off. So I stopped and I can be normal around you. It’s not a big deal-’
‘You were flirting with me?’ Dean asked a hint of amusement on his face. You glared.
‘Are you gonna make fun of me? Because I swear to God -’
‘No, sweetheart, I’m not gonna make fun of you,’ Dean promised, leaning a hand on the countertop, boxing you in. Your breath caught as he leaned down, his warm breath fanning across your skin, his voice low in your ears, ‘you were flirting?’
‘Dean…’ you whispered.
‘M’not gonna let it go might as well admit it,’ he warned, his smirk widening. You dropped your gaze to his chest, your cheeks hot as you fiddled with the cotton on his shirt as you mumbled, ‘okay maybe.’
‘Maybe?’ he mused, bringing his thumb up to your jaw and gently tilting your head back up, ‘doesn’t m sound like an answer to me-’
‘Well it’s all you’re gonna get,’ you retorted.
‘That right?’
‘Dean,’ you started but the words didn’t come. Dean grinned, leaning in until your noses brushed. You waited for him to kiss you, but he spoke first.
‘What’s the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?’
‘You’re such a dick,’ you laughed, trying to push him away. But Dean caught your arms pulling you flush against him, eyes adoring.
‘And you’ve got a mouth on you,’ he countered, ‘bad combo if you ask me.’
‘Oh it’s asking for trouble,’ you agreed softly.
‘Yeah?’ Dean smirked.
‘Yeah.’