He was nervous.
No, that wasn't right. Dean Winchester didn't get nervous. It must have been the double bacon cheeseburger from lunch at the diner talking back to him. That was all. But he couldn't help the fluttering sensation in his stomach as he watched the beautiful blonde walk around the room in her short silk robe lighting candles.
"Go ahead and strip down, make yourself comfortable over there." She nodded to the veritable nest of pillows near the far corner of the room.
"Betcha say that to all the fellas," he said with a chuckle, and she raised an eyebrow at him from over her shoulder playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Right. Okay." He smiled back and backed over to the pillow mountain, shrugging off his jacket and then toeing off his boots and socks. He watched carefully as she dropped her robe and laid it over the back of a nearby chair. A cropped white camisole and short grey shorts were all that remained. They fit her her curves perfectly and Dean wondered for a moment if he could go through with this without falling back on his old habits of flirtation and one liners.
He shook his head in realization that he was falling behind in this game and he quickly stripped himself of his t-shirt and jeans, laying them to the side with the rest of his clothing. She gave him an appraising look as she walked past, reaching up and removing her hair clip so the gentle blonde curls cascaded down her back, and suddenly, Dean felt very exposed. He stood before her in nothing but a well fitted pair of black boxer briefs and shifted on his feet as she settled herself into the pillows.
"Don't worry, Dean." Her voice was soft and soothing, breaking through his reverie. "Everyone comes here for a reason." He dipped his head and gave her an almost shy, dimpled smile and his thumb came up to rub over his bottom lip. What the hell was wrong with him? He stared Hell in the face more times than he could count, chased down Leviathans, he'd died, so it was safe to say it took a lot to shake him up, but throw a little intimacy his way, and suddenly he's a sniveling bitch? But this wasn't another hookup. Intimacy, while something that he craved, was not something that he was accustomed to. His lifestyle couldn't afford that kind of closeness.
"It's alright, I promise."
At that, Dean clenched his fist at his side and plastered on a signature Dean Winchester cocky smirk as his companion settled herself further into the pillows and reached for him with open arms. He sank to his knees before her and paused. She smiled warmly and crooked her finger at him. He laughed at his own hesitancy and finally settled on his side next to her. She turned on her side as well, facing him and looking imploringly into his green gaze.
"So... what now?" he asked after a beat, gesturing over her body. She gave him a sympathetic smile and that expression rattled him further, like she knew he was vulnerable instead of just nervous.
"Don't think so hard about it," she said, scooting a little higher up into the cushions but somehow closer to him as well, closing the gap between them as she gently lifted his arm and placed it across her waist. "There's no right or wrong way to do this." With that, she reached up with both hands and ran them through his short brown hair, pulling his head to her chest to rest it right above her heart.
Dean laid there for a moment just listening to the steady thump thump thump of her heartbeat, not sure what to do next, and then she began running her hand through his hair, from forehead to crown, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp as she went. The action pulled a gravelly sound from low in his throat and he felt himself relax slightly into her curves. Her other hand came up to stroke the bare skin of his back, pushing the muscles with the barest hint of firmness. He melted into her and his eyes fluttered shut as he just savored the sensation.
How long had it been since he had just been held? Since he'd been touched without expectations or preconceived notions? Even Lisa hadn't been much of a cuddler. There was nothing but touch and affection here. No judgement, no demons, no angels, no end of the world bullshit. Just Dean and her. He didn't have to worry about anything other than this moment, the here and now. He shifted slightly, his leg moving automatically over hers, and her hand moved from his hair down to trace his jaw and come to rest on the side of his neck. He sighed and pulled his arm tighter around her, turning his face into the seam of her clavicle.
It wasn't that he wasn't an affectionate person. On the contrary, he was a very physical person. A girl in every port, he was no stranger to physical connection, but he was quite partial to most types of contact. His father taught him you could learn much about a man by his handshake. He showed his fondness for his loved ones with a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek rather than using the actual words. He remembered times before his mother died when she would hold his small form and snuggle his nightmares away. Whenever he was reunited with his brother after whatever latest death trap they found themselves in, Sammy would always wrap him in the fiercest embraces that made him feel the most safe and loved. Nothing beat that feeling.
This came a lot closer to it than he'd expected, though.
"Hey, it's okay." Her soft voice floated through his thoughts and he realized a tear had worked its way free from his closed eye, down his nose, and onto her skin.
"Sorry," he mumbled gruffly and tensed, starting to pull away.
"Shh, sh-shh," she hushed and tightened her grip on his flesh slightly, pulling him back into her. "Don't apologize. This is good. You're okay," she soothed. She began stroking one hand rhythmically down his spine, her other thumb smoothing over the stubble on his jaw, and Dean settled into her again, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and humming out a contented sigh.
They laid in silence for what seemed to Dean like eons. Nothing but the steady sound of their breathing and the air conditioning unit permeated the space. It was the most relaxed he had felt for as long as he could recall in recent memory. Just the feeling of skin on skin, her fingers skimming over his flesh, the warmth and weight of her body against his, he felt safe. Like everything was okay in this singular moment, even if in actuality his life was an absolute mess. Her hand flattened over his back and smoothed down the expanse of it once more before she wriggled beneath him like she wanted to get up. He brought his head up slowly and rolled back away from her slightly, not ready to give this moment up just yet. She seemed to understand and only moved to prop herself up on her elbows.
"Ready to wrap this up?" she asked softly with a smile, reaching up to stroke through his hair one more time. He nodded and they moved to a sitting position in front of one another. She shimmied herself up onto her knees and Dean watched her expectantly. "Hang with me for at least thirty more seconds," she instructed, then leaned forward and wrapped him into a hug that he promptly returned. Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, one of her hands coming up to comb through the short hair at the nape of his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist and he had to restrain himself from squeezing her too tightly, pressing the bridge of his nose into the space where her neck met her shoulder.
Before he knew it, his thirty seconds were up, though he expected she had held on to him a little longer because he really needed her to, and she was pulling away. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders and his on her waist. She smiled and moved one of her hands up to cup his cheek, skimming her thumb along the bone and smiling genuinely at him before pulling back completely.
"This was great, Dean. I'm so glad you came," she said and he smiled as he began to stand. His limbs felt looser than before and he had to focus on his balance as he moved off the pillows with her following shortly behind.
"Yeah, well, never thought I'd be in my underwear with a beautiful woman but not be looking for something more," he joked and she laughed.
"I get that a lot," she replied, moving to shrug back into her robe as he dressed. "But I hope this gave you something more than any quick roll in the sack could."
Dean smirked as he sat down in a chair to put his shoes and socks back on, t-shirt and jeans already back in place. "Maybe there is something to this 'professional cuddler' racket after all."
"I prefer contact therapist, if you please," she teased and Dean stood and walked across the room to her, digging in his jeans pocket. He reached out and placed a few bills into her hand. She looked down and her head popped back up almost immediately in surprise.
"Dean, this is way too much-" she tried to push the money back towards him but he just pushed her hand back to her chest.
"No. It's not," he insisted and he leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. "Thanks, Jennie. I mean it," he said, pulling away, and she gave him an exasperated smile in return, shaking her head as he headed for the door to leave.
"Anytime, Dean. And I mean that." She walked him to the door and pulled him into one last hug.
"I'll take you up on that. Soon," he promised and then he left closing the door softly behind him.
The drive home was short. Too short for Dean's liking. Nothing like a little drive in his Baby with some good tunes to get his head back on straight. So Dean made a couple of pit stops on the way for a six pack of beer and a couple burgers for him and Sam for dinner before heading back to the bunker, giving him a little time to compose himself. Sam and Cass wouldn't understand. Best to keep his little adventure under wraps. The heavy metal door clanked shut behind him and he made his way down the stairs. Sam sat in front of his computer with his headphones in, right where he left him a few hours ago.
"Yo, Sammy," he hollered as he walked over to him and his brother's head popped up as he pulled out an ear bud. "Soup's on." He dropped the bag unceremoniously onto the table and set the beers next to it. He immediately dug into the sack and tossed a burger to Sam before sitting down and unwrapping his own.
"No thanks, I'm good." Sam pointed to the salad next to his laptop. Dean reached for two beers and uncapped them both, pushing one to Sam.
"You can't survive on rabbit food, Sammy. You need meat." He pointed at him with a raised brow before taking a big bite.
"It's quinoa. It's good for you." Sam rolled his eyes and reached for his beer.
"What the hell's a quinoa?" Dean asked, mouth full.
"It's the stuff you eat when you don't want to have a heart attack before you're forty." Sam looked at the burger in Dean's hand pointedly and took a swig off his bottle.
"Sounds disgusting." Dean replied, taking a drink of his own.
"Well, when you have a coronary, let me know how the bacon and pie regimen has worked out for you," Sam snarked back, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
"Yeah, whatever. Anything out there that's gonna help us find mom and Jack?" Dean drew the conversation away from food.
"Uh, nothing yet. Spent the whole time you were gone looking at lore on parallel universes and zip." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his overlong hair. "Oh, and, uh, speaking of which, someone named Jennie called your other cell right before you got back. Said you left your jacket there?" Sam grinned and Dean let his head fall back.
"Dammit," he groaned. "I'll call her back and get it in the morning."
"So, is Jennie gonna turn into a regular thing, being that she's so close?" Sam asked, trying to sound causal, but Dean recognized the caution in his tone.
"Nah, Sammy. Course not. I don't have room for that kind of intimacy."