Winch scratching at the door wakes you up.
"Dude, stop it," you mutter, turning to glare at him. His ears are perked up, and he's dancing from foot to foot. "You do not need to go out that bad," you snap. Despite your words, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. You stretch and yawn, then run a hand through your hair and do inventory on your clothes. Tank top, sweats, you're good.
You give Winch the stinkeye when you open the door, which he ignores to bound down the stairs with a happy bark. You follow at a more reasonable pace.
The reason for his enthusiasm has your eyes narrowing. Dean is standing in the kitchen, in all of his ridiculous, sleep rumpled glory, and Winch is sitting in front of him, tail still wagging.
"Hey, bud," the hunter says softly, reaching down to rub Winch's ears. "Where's your mom?"
Something indefinable warms your chest, and you're smiling when you walk into the kitchen. "She's right here, and she's irritated at her traitor dog."
Winch barks happily and dances in front of the front door. You roll your eyes and let him out. Before you can turn around, Dean's chest is pressed against your back, and his lips are softly brushing your neck. You sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more skin, without thinking about it.
He hums in approval against you. "Why is he a traitor?"
You smile. "Because until he met you, he only ever liked me. He ships it, the traitorous bastard."
His smile against your neck has your heartbeat racing. "What the fuck does 'ships it' mean?"
You blush, but lean back into his chest. You can't believe how comfortable you feel with him. "It's a nerd term. If you ship two people, it means you want them to get together."
He pauses, then chuckles, and you feel the vibrations through your whole body. His hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you snug against him, and he nuzzles your neck again. "Well, then count me in."
You roll your eyes and smile. "That's because you want in my pants."
He slips the fingers of one if his hands to rest just on the inside of your sweats, and you flush. "I'm not the only one who wants me in your pants," he mutters into your ear, and you can't help the soft moan as you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder.
Winch barking at the door snaps you out of the trance that Dean's hands and mouth have put you in. You laugh, embarrassed, and let the big dog back in.
You turn to look at Dean, and the heat in his eyes has your mind going blank for a second. You shake your head and smile at him. "Breakfast?"
xxxxx
"Y/N, hands up. If you don't keep your hands up, your face is vulnerable."
You groan and put your hands up, like Sam showed you. "I feel ridiculous, Sam."
He smirks. "You're going to feel more ridiculous when you get hit in the face."
You're sparring in the front yard of Bobby's house. It's Dean's idea, he wants you to learn to protect yourself. It has become clear, however, that if he's the one teaching you, he will pin you every chance he gets to make out with you shamelessly. Which you had no complaints about, but Sam put the kibosh on the idea after the third time.
So now you're here with Sam, whose tonsils you have no urge to lick, and you actually have to learn stuff.
Ugh.
"Focus. You can do this."
You sigh and keep your fighting stance. "When will I need this? You guys know how to do this, and your asses get handed to you all the time."
He chuckles and starts circling you. You move with him, your body's natural instinct surprising you. "Doesn't matter," Sam says easily. "It's about your state of mind."
You nod, already knowing what he's talking about. Your mind is clear, your pulse slow and steady, and your body is thrumming with energy. You don't know what is happening, you've tripped over flat surfaces, but you're not gonna start questioning shit now.
You're watching his tall frame, so you see him tense, and before he can hit, you move fast away from his reach. As soon as he's too far to correct himself, you're grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with his momentum, spinning as he falls to place your knee in the center of his back and pull his arm quickly up his back. You keep it up far enough to keep him down, but not far enough to hurt.
There's a moment of shocked silence. "What the fuck?" you ask softly, standing and stepping away from Sam, blushing furiously. "What the hell was that?"
Sam stands with a grunt and frowns at you. "I thought you've never done this before?"
You nod. "I haven't, Sam. I have no idea where that came from."
"God has probably prepared you for a hunter's life." Castiel states behind you.
You squeak and jump away, glaring at the angel as you step back. Winch is immediately by your side, having stood from the place where he was sunning himself. He's not growling, yet, but he's on alert.
"Cass, dude," you snap, "You've got to give a girl some warning."
Sam comes to stand next to you, arms crossed. "What do you mean, prepared you?"
The angel looks between the two of you. "Y/N did not live a life that prepared her for the physical aspects of hunting. I would not be surprised if God gave her some expertise in the matter when he brought her here."
You blink. "What?"
Sam, however, seems to be perfectly fine with the development. He nods. "That makes sense."
"What makes sense?" You turn to see Dean approaching you, his lovely face creased in a frown while he takes in Cass standing in front of you. Dean comes to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him.
"Y/N came pre-downloaded with fighting know-how," Sam said casually, observing your easy acceptance of Dean's touch.
"Fancy," Dean says smartly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "What of it?"
Cass is watching all of this with those sharp blue eyes. "I came to ask you a question," he says to you, ignoring the boys.
You blink. "Um, okay. What?"
"Did God speak to you when he brought you here?"
You shake your head. "No. I just… I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was here."
"You're sure? You're certain he never spoke to you?"
You nod again. "I'm sure, Cass, I'm sorry."
"She said she doesn't know, Cass, lay off," Dean snaps.
Without thinking, you smack Dean on the arm that's holding you to him. "Don't be a jerk, Dean. He was just asking."
He hmphs. "Why are you always taking his side?"
"Because someone has to be willing to tell you when you're being a jerk."
He pulls you tighter against him. "Hush, woman."
You chuckle. "Fuck you."
He growls and wraps his other arm around your waist, nuzzling your neck again. You laugh and push him away. Surely necking in front of an angel will send you to hell, right?
"Did you need anything else, Cass?" you ask, looking at the angel and trying to fend Dean off.
"No," he says evenly, then disappears.
You frown. "That's annoying as fuck."
Dean nods against your skin. "Yep."
xxxxx
You're in the kitchen a few hours later, after soundly beating Sam and Dean while sparring enough times that they both admit defeat. You're humming as you cook, as happy as you can be under the circumstances. Winch is lying in a patch of sun on the other side of the room, watching you sleepily.
Dean wanders in and makes a beeline for you. Before you can protest, his arms are wrapped around you, and he's mouthing at your neck again.
You smile and tilt your head back, but you refuse to stop washing vegetables. "Dean, I'm busy," you murmur, tilting your head to give him more of your neck to caress.
Which he immediately takes advantage of. His hands move slowly upwards to rest on your ribcage, just below your breasts. "You could be busy with something else, princess," he whispers in your ear, sending heat down to your core.
You moan softly, then lean your head back up and bat his hands away. "Dean," you laugh, "Cooking. Don't you have hunting to do?"
He ignores your batting hands to move his back down to your hips, pressing you into him again. "Nope, you've got all my attention, sweetheart."
You smile and finish washing the lettuce, placing it on the counter and turning to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile. "Lucky me."
He wraps a hand around the back of your head and presses his lips to yours. You respond enthusiastically, moaning softly, pressing your hips to him. He crowds you against the counter, the hand not holding your head in place moving up your side to cup your breast tenderly. You whimper when he slowly thumbs your nipple, sending electricity down through you. "Dean," you moan into his mouth. His answering growl makes you dizzy.
The door opening doesn't sink through your lust-filled haze, but Sam's disgusted noise does. "For fuck's sake. In the kitchen? You're mauling her in the kitchen."
Dean raises his head, but doesn't take his eyes from yours. "What makes you think I'm the one mauling her?"
"Experience," Sam says dryly. "Listen, I think we have a case."
You turn to Sam, but make no attempt to leave Dean's embrace. You'd have to be crazy to want to leave the safe circle of Dean's strong arms wrapped around you. "What's up, Sam?"
He rolls his eyes. "A 'bear' mauled a man in Wellington, Ohio."
Dean frowns. "So?"
Sam smirks. "The bear found him, busted through the front door, went up the stairs, and mauled him in bed. Does that sound like a bear to you?"
Recognition floods through you, and you grin. "No, no it does not, Sam."
xxxxx
Hi everyone! Here's my notes:
I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)
Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.
If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.
