The Men of Letters Bunker held many treasures. There was, of course, the extensive library, full of works about anything and everything supernatural. But there were other things; the small oak table in the kitchen Ainsley and the brothers enjoyed their meals around, the garage full of vintage cars untouched by time, and the dungeon (a room every hunter doesn't realize he wanted until he has one).
All of these things were great, but one of Ainsley's favorite things was an old Victrola that sat on a cart in the corner of the library and the collection of old records stored beneath it. Sometimes when Sam and Dean would leave on a hunt and she would stay behind she'd pull out something bluesy and let the sound lull her for hours. From time to time she would even get up and twirl herself around with an imaginary partner.
Today was one of those days.
The boys had left 2 days ago on a hunt that was going to take about a week and she was starting to become stir-crazy alone. She'd started and finished the newest Nicolas Sparks book, cleaned the kitchen, taken a long soak in the claw foot bathtub she'd discovered the month prior, and now she was generously sipping a glass of white wine while twirling herself around the tables in the library as an old crooner sang to her.
Between tracks she heard a noise, spinning around to the main library door she spotted Dean.
"You're home early," she blurted in a panic, her face turning bright red knowing full well he'd been watching her.
"Wasn't our kind of thing. You really should answer your phone. Guess you were busy with... other things."
She blushed again.
He came down the 3 small steps into the room and approached her, holding his hand out, palm up.
The expression on her face was blank as she looked from his eyes to his hand, and back to meet his eyes again.
"I'm asking you to dance, sweetheart. No use you spinning around this empty room by yourself."
She deposited her now almost empty glass of wine on the large library table before putting her hand into his and he pulled her close. His right arm snaking around her waist, his left hand still holding hers. She cautiously put her free hand on his shoulder.
As soon as she was in place he began leading her around the room.
Wow, Dean can dance? Like actually dance, not just high school slow dance? Her thoughts were racing.
The confusion must have reached her face because he spoke up.
"Yes, I can actually dance, sweetheart. It's a long and embarrassing story that involves Cougars, Reno, and tequila. But its been a useful skill, works well on the ladies." He gave her a wink.
They continued dancing for several song changes until the record finished, the hum of the needle bobbing on blank vinyl filled the room.
He dipped her back and brought her back up to standing, stepping away from their dancing position, but still keeping their hands intertwined.
"We should do that again some time," he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. With that, he exited the room down the hall to the sleeping quarters.
Ainsley was still stunned as she walked to the record player, removing the needle.
"Dean can dance," she said to the empty room giggling as she returned the record to the cabinet before turning of the lights and leaving the room herself.