A/N: This was written for my very dear friend, MaliBearsBuddy. Her favorite movie is Raiders of the Lost Ark, and her absolute favorite scene is the part on the ship where Marion is kissing Indy's wounds as he points them out to her. In the movie, Indy falls asleep before she gets very far but, luckily, Dean is very much awake... ;) Hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated!
A Little TLC
"Damn it, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you? I can take care of myself!" Sophia snaps, nearly slamming the door off its hinges as she swings it open and stalks into the room.
Dean limps in behind her, holding one arm close to his chest and the other holding a rag to his forehead. Rolling his eyes, he reaches back and kicks the door shut, sending the whole room rattling. "Oh, for God's sake, give it a rest, Sophia. Next time I'll let the fuckin' thing eat you, ok? Far be it from me to want to help."
"Don't be so melodramatic!" she retorts. "I wasn't in any real danger!"
She pauses, giving him a baleful glance. "At least I wasn't until you came crashing in like some kind of demented Don Quixote, making all that fucking noise. What the hell were you thinking, Dean? You could have been hurt!"
He raises an eyebrow and stares at her. "Could have been?" he asks, looking down at his arm and gesturing with the bloody rag, as he drops into a chair by the door with a sigh.
"I meant seriously hurt, you idiot," she replies, crossing her arms across her chest. "I've been taking care of myself for years," she hisses, "but now I've got to worry about what sort of stupid stunt you might pull. I'd have been better off without you there."
Dean's eyes narrow dangerously and he stands. "Well," he rasps, deadly quiet, "that can certainly be arranged." With that, he turns and walks out the door, shutting it softly behind him.
Sophia stands frozen for a few seconds, stunned at what she's said and his reaction. With a gasp, she snaps out of it, and flies out the door behind him.
~~~SPN~~~
2 HOURS EARLIER
Sophia peers cautiously around the edge of the boxes she's perched behind. They've finally closed in on the werewolf they've been tracking, trapping him in this old warehouse. They've separated, trying to corral it, so they'll have a clean shot with the silver bullet. Sophia double checks her pistol, making sure she has a round in the chamber.
Hearing the werewolf scrabbling nearby, she slips from her hiding spot, approaching it from behind. Just as she gets close enough to take a clear shot, a pile of boxes tips over behind her causing the wolf to turn and spot her. It instantly begins moving toward her, snarling and snapping. She raises her gun, aiming for the head, but finds herself suddenly knocked to the side.
By the time she recovers and looks back up, Dean's being flung across the room by the werewolf. Sophia scrambles to her feet, sets her stance and fires. The werewolf goes down and immediately begins shifting back to his human form.
"Dean!" she calls frantically as she picks her way as quickly as possible through the trash and discarded boxes. "Dean!" From the other side of the room, she hears Sam calling for them and she hollers back as loudly as she can. Finally reaching Dean's side, she kneels by him just as he's starting to come around. "Dean," she says, her voice low and worried, "are you alright?"
Dean sits up slowly, shaking his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah," he says, groaning as he straightens. "No permanent damage."
Sophia sighs in frustration, barely resisting the urge to shove him back down. "Damn it! You scared the shit out of me! What the hell were you doing?"
Wiping the blood off his forehead, he tosses her a grin, dimples included, and replies, "I was helping you."
Sam comes running up, just in time to hear Sophia nearly shriek, "You were helping? How does trying to get yourself killed in any way help me? For God's sake, I had the shot, the wolf was distracted, it would have been a clean kill." She stands, backing away, staring at him as if he's lost his mind. "But noooo, you had to help!"
Sam reaches down and pulls Dean to his feet. "Dean, really dude, you're lucky she was able to kill that thing in spite of your..." Sam pauses, making quotation marks with fingers, "umm, help."
"Aw, come on," Dean whines, "now you're taking her side? That thing would have devoured her given half a chance."
Both Sophia and Sam roll their eyes at him, and Sam says, "Right, Dean. Because she's clearly not capable of killing that thing without help."
Dean flashes the grin again and says, "See, babe, even Sam can see it."
Sophia turns her back on him and stalks away across the warehouse without another word. She's waiting impatiently in the passenger seat of the Impala by the time Sam helps Dean limp out and she doesn't spare either of them a look as they get in the car. Dean tries to engage her, joking and whining about his injuries, but she ignores him.
The atmosphere in the car is distinctly uncomfortable by the time they reach the motel. Sophia flings the door open before the car is even completely stopped and stomps toward her room. She assumes Dean will go with Sam and get cleaned up, but he's hot on her heels, cajoling and annoying her all the way.
~~~SPN~~~
PRESENT
Dean's long legs have taken him nearly halfway across the parking lot before Sophia gets out the door. "Dean," she calls, running to catch up, "Dean, please, wait."
He doesn't stop or slow his pace. As she draws closer, she can see the tight set of his jaw and hunch of his shoulders. God, she's really done it this time.
"Dean, please," she says, as she finally catches up with him. "God, I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice choked with emotion, reaching to touch his arm. "I didn't mean what I said...I'm so sorry."
He finally stops, but doesn't look at her. Sophia seizes her opportunity and steps in front of him, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. "I'm sorry, honestly. I didn't mean it and that's not what I want. Please, come back inside."
Dean looks down at her, gaze searching hers. Some of the tension in his jaw relaxes and he allows her to pull him back to her room.
Once they're back inside, Sophia helps him remove his leather jacket and settles him in a chair. She disappears into her bathroom for a moment and returns with several wet washclothes and a first aid kit. Positioning herself between his knees, she begins to clean his face and the wound on his forehead.
As she works, she speaks, carefully keeping her gaze fixed on her task. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but I've been on my own since I was 20." At Dean's head shake, she continues. "My parents were killed by a demon, in our house, just a week after my 20th birthday. I didn't really have any other family, no siblings or anything, so I went out on my own."
Reaching for the first aid kit, she sets out the bandages and antiseptic. "This is going to sting," she murmurs as she dabs the cut with the antiseptic. "My parents were hunters, so I grew up in the life. I didn't know what else to do, so I threw myself into hunting"
She pauses to peel open the bandage before carefully placing it over the wound on his forehead. "Anyway, I've been on my own for the last eight years. I'm not used to playing nicely with other children and I'm not used to anyone..." She swallows past the lump that's suddenly formed in her throat. "I'm not used to anyone caring about me."
She doesn't resist when she feels his hands on her hips, pulling her down onto his lap. Nor does she resist when he reaches up to cup her cheek and turn her face toward his. Swallowing again, she finally meets his eyes as she whispers, "But I'm trying to learn, if you'll be patient with me."
Dean held her glance a few seconds longer before pulling her lips down to his in a tender kiss. When they were both breathless, he sits back in the chair and flashes her that wicked smile she can't resist. "Yeah," he says, "I can be patient with you." The smile widens. "But there'll have be something in it for me..."
Rolling her eyes, she allows him to tease away the somber mood. She folds her arms across her chest and gives him a stern look. "Uh-huh, I should have known there'd be some kind of catch." Narrowing her eyes, she asks, "What'd you have in mind?"
"Well, for starters," he says, "I think my various injuries could use a little more TLC..."
She stifles a giggle, trying to keep her face serious. "Oh really? Well, you'll need to show me where it hurts then."
Dean points first to the bandage on his head. "Right there."
She leans forward and kisses the spot softly. Shifting her lips down to his temple, she murmurs, "What about here?"
He nods, so she presses her lips against that spot before traveling down to his ear. "And here?" At his rough growl of agreement, she flicks her tongue out to trace around the top of his ear, ending by scraping his earlobe between her teeth. She can't stop the soft laugh that escapes when she hears his sharp intake of breath.
Moving further down, she observes, "I'm pretty sure I see a few spots here," before sliding her tongue along the clean line of his jaw. "And here..." she says, pressing another kiss to his chin.
Pulling away slightly, she slides her thumb over his completely kissable bottom lip, gasping when his tongue darts out to lick the pad of her thumb. "I dunno," she says huskily, trying to ignore the hand she feels slip under her t-shirt to graze her stomach. "I'm not really seeing injuries here."
"Oh, yeah," he says solemnly, "there's some definite bruising there."
The hand under her shirt is becoming more difficult to ignore as it moves to cup her breast. Her back arches toward him as his thumb flicks over her nipple. Sophia draws in a trembling breath, trying to remember what the hell she'd been about to say.
"Umm," she says on a whimper as that maddening hand slips even further up to trace lazy circles against the warm skin not covered by the low cut demi bra. "Umm, are you sure about that? I...I really don't see..."
She finds herself unable to complete the thought as Dean's tongue slips out, wetting his lips at the same time as the hand under her shirt goes back to slowly stroking her nipple.
She moans softly in disappointment when he pulls his hand out from under her shirt, causing him to chuckle softly.
"I thought you were supposed to be kissing my hurts all better, Florence Nightengale," he murmurs as his hand drops to her hip, urging her astride him. She settles against him, forcing a groan from both of them as she rolls her hips against his arousal.
"Was I?" she sighs, her hands now working under his t-shirt to smooth over his tight abs and chest. She loves to touch him, cant get enough really. She's completely addicted to him and how he makes her feel. "I think I lost track of where I was," she says, her voice muffled briefly as he pulls her shirt over her head.
"Mmmm," he mumbles, momentarily distracted by sight of her breasts, barely contained by her thin, lacy bra. "I think," he says huskily, "you were right about here..."
His fingers tangles in her dark hair and pull her face down to his before taking her lips in a scorching kiss. Their tongues tangle, dancing and sliding against each other as their hands explore warm skin.
Breaking the kiss, Dean's eyes are again drawn to the cleavage set in front of him, now heaving softly with Sophia's accelerated breaths.
She giggles and drawled, "You like what you see, babe?"
His only response is another low growl as he pushes her gently off his lap. His hiss of pain as he stands with her draws her concern.
"Dean," she says, reaching out to him, "are you sure you're ok?"
"Yeah, yeah," he says, shrugging off her examination. His voice roughens with desire as his gaze rakes over her. "I want you," he rasps, "Now..."
Sophia shivers, her body responding to him as it always does. "But Dean," she whispers, " you're hurt..."
Her half-hearted objection is cut short as he snags the belt loop on her jeans and pulls her into him, arching her back over his arm. "Now, Sophia..." he whispers as he places hot, wet kisses down her throat.
Responding instantly to the need she hears in his voice, Sophia reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and tugs it gently over his head. Hands trembling, she tried to focus enough to undo his jeans as he continues to torment her with his warm lips and his roaming hands cup her bottom.
Dragging the jeans down along with his boxer briefs, she kneels down, helping him step out of them before tossing them aside. On her way back up, she runs her hands over his well-muscled thighs, placing a few teasing kisses on his stomach, feeling her own stomach flip at his harsh groan.
Dean reaches for her arm and pulls her back to her feet, covering her mouth with his. She responds eagerly, stretching against him, enjoying the feel of her softness melting against his taut muscles.
She pushes him back toward the bed, standing between his knees as he sits on the edge. She reaches back to unhook her bra, feeling her knees weaken a little bit as his hot, hungry gaze devours her.
"No," he murmurs, stilling her hands. His lust darkened eyes meet hers and she nearly stops breathing as well. "Leave it on."
She swallows hard and nods, reaching instead for the button on her jeans. Stripping the jeans and her panties off in one swoop, she stands before him clad in just the lacy bra.
His eyes roam over her, but he doesn't touch her. She feels...so many things. She feels self-conscious and yet oddly powerful, shy but completely wanton. She feels desired and desirable. And beyond the lust and heat, he looks at her like she's the most precious thing he's ever seen, and she feels...safe.
She can see clearly the effect she has on him and that recognition sends heat throbbing through her. They reach for each other at the same time, Dean sliding back over the bed and pulling her on top of him. Lips and tongues clash again as hands slid greedily against flesh.
The feel of the lace on her bra rubbing between the two of them is almost enough to send her over the edge. Dragging her lips from his, she moans, "Dean...please..."
He settles her hips over his, rocking suggestively against her. "Dean..." she whines, her words cut off by his mouth on hers.
Drawing back, but holding her face in his hands, he murmurs, "Now, Sophia, take what you want..." Dean watched as his words sink in through the fog of her desire and one eyebrow rises. He nods, moving his hips beneath her. "Please..."
Biting her lip, she sits up, shifting so she can take him within her. As she slides down over him, they both sigh.
Dean slides his hands up her thighs to her hips, urging her to move. Her gaze flits to his and their eyes catch and hold as she moves over him, slowly at first, then more urgently as she finds a rhythm.
Neither looks away as they move together, savoring the connection between them, the almost magnetic pull joining them, unrelenting in its power. They can try to fight it all they want, but it was like denying gravity.
Dean can tell her orgasm is approaching, knowing the breathy sounds she makes when she's close. The sight of her, undulating over him, wearing just that crazy sexy bra, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, knowing he's the reason for the look on her beautiful face... He clenches his jaw, determined to allow her to finish first.
Unable to simply watch her anymore, he sits up, tangling a hand in her hair and catching her mouth with his. He feels her breathing hitch at the sudden change, and urges her on, his free hand tight on her bottom.
He feels her body tighten around him as the super heated tension surrounding them finally snaps. Pulling her tighter against him, he allows himself to let go as the last of her contractions pulse around him.
Still holding her, he falls back against the pillows with a groan. He tucks her hair behind her ear and presses a kiss against her temple.
A minute passes, breathing returns to something closer to normal, and Sophia slips off him. He rolls to face her, taking her in his arms, drawing her close. He reaches up to stroke her cheek, losing himself in her eyes for a moment. A jumble of thoughts and feelings course through him, too many to give voice to now.
She smiles at him, turning to kiss his palm before snuggling against him, eyes drifting closed. He reaches for the sheets, covering her gently.
Lying there in the moonlight, watching her sleep, Dean realizes he's lost. He's probably been lost from the beginning, but denial isn't just a river in Egypt. He looks down at her, curled against him, and finds he can no longer imagine his life without this woman. The thought simultaneously energizes and terrifies him.
He's never really dared to hope for something like this. Only ever half considered it on those dark nights when the whiskey was gone and he still couldn't sleep. And now, here she is, offering him everything. Does he dare accept it?
He presses another kiss to the top of her head before closing his eyes, his last thoughts of her as sleep claims him.