Scrolling down the page on Greek mythology, turned off by the long paragraphs that seemed to have no end, Miranda Mason rested her chin on the heel of her palm in an attempt keep herself from falling asleep. Her eyes flickered up at the starburst clock, groaning inwardly when the face read a quarter past eleven. Dean had left at noon and hadn't bothered to pick up his phone to spare a short conversation on the situation.
Miranda rolled her eyes with disdain, embracing the boredom of another lengthy paragraph before muttering, "Damn Winchester's."
As if on cue, the motel door was thrown open and Dean stumbled in, seemingly unfazed though his shirt front was soaked in blood. With a cool flick of his wrist, the hunter closed the door and sauntered up to where Miranda stood unmoving in disbelief.
"What's wrong?" was Dean Winchester's casual inquiry as his partner slowly came forward, her eyes glued to his chest. Without a word of warning Miranda ripped his filthy shirt open, frantically searching his dirt stained skin for the wound.
Dean grinned unabashedly. "I never thought you cared."
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion when she couldn't find the source of the blood. "What happened? Are you hurt? Who's blood is this? Did you crash the car? What happened? Answer me!"
"Jesus, woman," he pushed her out of his way and went straight for the alcohol.
Staring incredulously after him, Miranda scoffed at his devil-may-care attitude. She had to deal with it day in and day out but she had enough at the moment. All he ever did was drink, hunt, and be a smart-ass. She advanced towards him with determination, ready for battle and expecting him to give in to the choice words she had in mind, but just as she was about to reach for his shoulder, Dean reeled around and smoothly coiled his arm around her waist, adamantly keeping his lips on hers. On impact, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut realizing that they hadn't had physical contact since the hunt began a week ago. It was a welcome addition to the crappy night she was having.
"So many questions." Dean murmured almost inaudibly; surprised when she smiled in reply, having heard exactly what he said no matter how softly.
She put a hand up to his forehead, twisting her lips to one side in concern. "You have a fever."
"I'm fine," He replied airly, rocking her body back and forth between his arms.
Miranda replied to his dismissal just as he expected her to. "You need medicine."
A stubborn grin pulled at the corners of his lips as he shook his head no, taking her glare as an opportunity to pepper clumsy kisses along her neck. "No, I need you."
"You can't change my mind, Dean."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Secretly enjoying the feeling but plastering on a scowl, Miranda stood her ground, clamping her jaw shut and using all of her womanly might not to succumb to his winning advances. "But level with me here," she pushed his chest away so he could know to look her in the eye. "what happened out on the field? You went rogue on me."
"You sound like a soldier again." The oldest Winchester sighed with exasperation nonetheless smiling at the sight of her annoyed look. "I meant it in a hot, screw-me-on-the-floor kind of a way, Andy." Taking her hand, Dean sat down in the uncomfortable chair at the table and brought Miranda right in front of him, ready to square with her with the tell-all, pre-angry sex, sweet nothings that he was just so good at. "It's dangerous for you..."
"Oh, please stop," Miranda groaned as she pulled her hands out of his. "enough with the dewy eyed 'I'm poison' spiel, Dean. I've heard it too many times. I'm staying with you come whatever, so don't think you can change my mind."
"Everyone around me dies, Andy." Dean finished more firmly without giving her a moment to interrupt.
"Put it on a bumper sticker, Winchester. I'm staying and eventually I'm going to be hunting with you. You gonna be a man about it?"
He nodded grimly, resting his head against her chest and feeling her fingers run through his short hair and against the back of his neck soothingly. She leaned down to plant a resolute kiss on the top of his head, understanding that he had lost everyone that he loved and couldn't trust himself to stay in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability long enough to find out what it would feel like to lose her if something happened that could have been prevented.
"It's your call though, babe."
"What do you mean?" His voice was obscured into her breasts, all the while tugging her body closer against his own.
"I'll only hunt when you're comfortable with it."
"Thank you."
"But you have to tell me whose blood you've been wearing for the past fifteen minutes."
"Are you jealous?" He looked up with a toothy grin.
Miranda couldn't help but follow his lead as she returned his smile. Brushing back a lock of hair from his freckled forehead, she kissed Dean Winchester and said, "Oh, honey, I'm furious."