Dean and Grace spent hours talking, and Dean realized that they had a few things in common. Grace liked classic rock. She actually liked all kinds of music, but he focused on that genre. He was really excited to hear she liked Zeppelin. When it came to learning, she had more in common with Sam, but she had the "if you want it done right, do it yourself" attitude, like Dean. She was also a bit of a loner, like Dean. The only person he ever really wanted around was Sammy. She seemed to like being alone, to an extent, too. Eventually they ran out of things to talk about and Grace suggested a movie. Dean went over to a box of movies and pulled one out.
Grace rolled her eyes, "Please tell me that's not another Eastwood movie."
"Okay... That's not another Eastwood movie."
"No. There has to be something else in that box!"
"There's not much in there other than westerns."
"I'm not opposed to westerns, I'm just a little tired of your man-crush on Eastwood."
Dean walked back to the couch with the box in his hands. "Man-crush?"
"Yes!" She said, snatching the box from him, "man-crush."
Dean sat down next to her, sort of pouting, "I don't have a man-crush..."
"Oh, you've got it bad, baby," she said going through the movies.
She didn't see it, but Dean sort of smiled at that. What she did see was that Dean was right... mostly westerns. Some she didn't care for. Some she had never seen. And then...
"Jackpot!" she said holding up the movie for him to see.
Dean raised a suspicious eyebrow, "El Dorado?"
"Yeah... I like John Wayne, and this happens to be my favorite."
"Sure."
"You don't like that one?"
"I do... I just don't believe you do."
Her mouth dropped open, "What?"
"I think you just don't want to watch another Eastwood movie."
"Fine..." she said leaning back and crossing her legs, "test me."
Dean smirked, "Okay. I won't even drag it out. You won't know this one if you haven't seen the movie."
"Go for it."
"What is Mississippi's real name?"
Grace tried to suppress a wide grin, but she couldn't. She answered just like the character from the movie, "Alan... Bourdillion... Trehearne."
Dean's smirk faded, "It's on the back cover."
She laughed, "No it's not."
"Okay, let me see it."
Grace put the cover behind her back, "No."
Dean's smirk came back, "I knew it! Give it to me."
"No."
Dean tried to pull Grace's arms from behind her, but she had backed herself into the corner of the couch and shoved her hands into the cushions. Dean put one knee on the couch and went over her shoulders to get behind her back. She let out a playful scream.
"Give it!"
"No," she said, laughing.
Dean pulled back, "Oh, you think this is funny?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, maybe I can make it funnier... You ticklish?"
Her eyes widened, and Dean knew he had her. He barely touched and she gave up.
"Okay, okay! Here..." she said, handing him the cover. As Grace straightened herself, Dean sat and read it over.
"It's not on here."
"I told you!"
"Then why were you hiding it?"
She looked down and grinned, "I just wanted to mess with you a little."
"Oh, that's nice."
"Well, you didn't believe me!"
"You really like this movie?"
"I really like this movie."
"Okay then. We'll watch it."
As Dean put the movie in, Grace pulled her feet in close next to her on the couch and rested against the couch arm. Dean sat on the other side... his usual spot. Feet on the floor, slouched down, arms crossed. It was a warm night, and Bobby's air conditioning wasn't known for its reliability on warm nights. It wasn't that it broke down, but it didn't work well. Grace found that she was okay if she wore shorts, which she changed into earlier in the day as it got warmer. Even Dean removed his usual top layer.
Dean was surprised to see Grace hadn't been lying about liking the movie. She would often say "Oh, I love this line!" and mouth along with it, then laugh, flashing him a big smile. It was the first time since he met her that she seemed to be really relaxed and enjoying herself.
Half way through the movie he started noticing her rubbing her ankle. She would rub for a minute, then leave her hand resting there, only to start rubbing again a bit later. She was doing it again when he called her on it.
"I thought your ankle was better?"
"It is... well, it was. I kind of tripped over a book getting out of bed this morning."
He shook his head and chuckled, "You are such a klutz."
"I'm not a klutz. I just forgot I put the book on the floor before I fell asleep."
She turned back to the movie and kept rubbing.
Dean sighed, "Give me your foot."
"What?"
"Give me your foot."
She just stared at him with a blank expression on her face.
"Seeing you do that out of the corner of my eye is distracting. Let me do it so I can enjoy the movie."
"Seriously?"
He gave her a frustrated look, so she relented, "Okay."
She stretched her leg out so that her foot rested in his lap, and he gently rubbed her ankle while they watched the movie. After a few minutes he felt her tense up.
"Too hard?"
"No... too light, actually. It kind of tickles. I'm fighting the urge to kick you right now."
He started rubbing a little deeper, "You should have said something."
"Well, I didn't want to after you were nice enough to volunteer to do it."
"How's this?"
"Better."
They turned their attention back to the movie. A few minutes later, Grace sighed, "Much better." Dean smiled. Neither took their eyes from the television.
The massage on her ankle felt so good Grace started to forget about the movie. When was the last time she had gotten anything close to a massage? She couldn't even remember. It was something she did regularly before her possession. It seemed so long ago now. Her old life so far away. She was so lost in her own thoughts, and the feel of Dean rubbing her ankle that she moaned, very low. She felt Dean's hands stop. She was about ask why, but all in a matter of seconds she realized - she was no longer on her side, but on her back, laying just slightly propped up against the arm of the couch. Eyes closed. One hand was up over her head. Her uninjured foot sat planted on the couch cushion, her leg bent up at the knee with her hand resting on it. She had moaned, and Dean's hands froze. Hands she was very much aware of now as they remained still, but firm on her ankle. Without opening her eyes she tried to slowly pull her foot away, but his grip tightened and he began rubbing again. It was different now, she thought. It felt slower. More deliberate. Or maybe she was just letting her mind play tricks on her now that she was uncomfortable.
She didn't have much time to wonder. Dean's hand started getting higher on her leg, a little at a time, until one hand was on her calf. Still rubbing. So, he was just rubbing her leg. That's all. She told herself that was all. She was making too much of it. He shifted her leg so that her foot was flat on his thigh, and her knee bent. She opened her eyes just in time to see him lean over and kiss her leg, just below the knee. She let out a quiet gasp and stopped breathing. Her gasp drew his eyes to hers, as his lips lingered on her leg. He shifted his weight, moving the hand from her calf to support himself on the sofa. His other hand, still on her ankle, began slowly moving up her leg until it caught up to his lips. Now they traveled up together, hand and lips. She watched as he moved above her knee, then closed her eyes. Should they be doing this? Should they stop? And then he did stop. She no longer felt his lips. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her leg, at the long scar above her knee, just far enough on the inside of her thigh to miss the bone. The scar he put there. He ran his thumb along the scar, back and forth. She knew he was feeling guilty. She'd worn shorts before, but the position of the scar made it easy to hide. He hadn't seen it. She had several scars that hadn't faded, but this was the worst. It was where the knife had gone the deepest.
Grace reached down and touched Dean's face. He looked up.
"It's okay, Dean."
His thumb grazed the scar once more before it was replaced by his lips. She closed her eyes, and didn't even try to stop the moan when she felt his tongue on her thigh as he continued to kiss his way up. A few more kisses and he lifted himself up, hovering over her with his face next to hers. He waited for her to open her eyes. Then he kissed her. Her hands went into his short hair, traveled down his neck and across his back, trying to pull him closer. Dean pushed himself off the couch, grabbing Grace's arms to pull her with him. Once they were both on their feet he kissed her again, a little harder. More urgent. She ran her hands along his waist, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. Before she could move her hands any higher he broke away, tightened his grip around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around him and he made his way to the stairs.
As soon as she was on her feet again, Grace had Dean out of his shirt. She ran her hands over his chest as they kissed. The rest of their clothes quickly followed, and Dean was hovering over her again, kissing her neck as he made love to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, but her hands were all over - in his hair, on his back, gripping his arms... she just wanted to touch him.
All thoughts of "should they" were gone from Grace's mind, until they lay there afterward. Dean was on his back holding Grace close to his side, her head on his chest.
"Dean?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think... I mean..."
"Nah uh. Don't complicate this."
"I just..."
"Did you want to be with me?"
"Yeah."
"And I wanted to be with you. It's that simple. Don't overthink it."
Was it really that simple? Should it be?
"Do we tell Sam, or Bobby?"
"I don't see why they would need to know."
She shrugged, "Just to know what's going on with us."
He rubbed her arm, "No... this will be our secret."
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Was this a one-night thing?"
He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, "I hope not."
Grace smiled against Dean's chest.
"I hope not, too."
