While reading this back a bit I realize I sort of did some fourth wall breaks. Well, kinda, not really. You'll see what I mean. Of course, this fic is really weird as far as universes go, it's sort of... wherever. Real world? Yeah, but there are demons. Fanbases exist. Umm... yeah... semi fourth wall breaks ye-go or a no-go? (le-go my e-go)

Let me know!

This is also beta-less, so if you catch a mistake please, please, let me know! It helps out more than you know. :)

-LF

"You should stay away from Crowley."

My gaze shifted away from the TV long enough to send him a weary glance. It was probably around four, and we'd retired to the couch to see what looked good. Netflix is the new cable, so Dean spent a good five minutes clicking through the options before shrugging and clicking on Supernatural. I don't know why I expected any differently. If someone made a show about my life I'd like to watch it all the way through. "Shut up and eat your popcorn, Dean." I muttered, returning to the scene on screen.

It was about halfway through the queue of seasons Netflix had lined up. Somewhere along the line of Castiel's entrance. Not going to lie, this made me extremely curious. Not that I'm a freak about it or anything... well, yeah. Yeah, I am a bit of a freak about it. I ship destiel avidly. Do you know how hard it is not to ask a million questions when the literal object of your OTP is lounging next to you on the couch, re-living his first meeting with his (obviously) soul mate?

Naturally, my inner fangirl was screaming in hysteria.

Dean was mumbling into his popcorn, eyes trained on the television as I kept my attention glued on him, watching for any sort of reaction. If destiel was real, god so help me the world was going to hear about it! "So..." I started awkwardly, no ability whatsoever to be subtle, "You and uh... Cas."

"What about him?"

I shoved a few more pieces into my mouth, trying to figure out how to word my next sentence carefully. "Did you have sex?"

Aaaaand failing to do so.

Dean coughed on his popcorn, surging forward and pounding a fist against his chest. Once he regained him composure, and I handed him his can of soda, he stared at me, wide eyed with disbelief, "What the hell kind of question is that?!"

"An honestly curious one." I retorted, not the least bit phased. (curse all my experience with smut fics)

Dean shook his head wildly, "It concerns me that you even think about things like that."

I snorted, rather inelegantly, "You're a six foot walking ball of sex! It's a perfectly reasonable question." I opened my hands as a sign of peace, but continued my investigation, "Did you, or did you not, do your own little 'cloud seeding' with Castiel? That's all I'm asking."

"You're sick."

"And you're avoiding the question." I retorted.

"Perversion and pedophilia are just as bad as any other intentions." Dean bristled, straightening himself a little in his seat.

I frowned, letting my hands drop, "That's- We're not talking about Crowley."

"We should be."

So, in the end, it was my own stupid curiosity that led to Dean ultimately putting me under interrogation. I was old enough to make my own decisions. Besides, I didn't really have much of a choice. I'd made a contract. I had to see him every now and then. At least... that's how he made it seem. I didn't remember many demons from the show stalking their victims, but then again, that was a show. This was reality. (However crazy it may be)

"I would much rather talk about you and Castiel." I huffed, crossing my arms defiantly.

"There's nothing to say."

"I don't believe you."

Dean scoffed, kicking his feet up on my table and shoving the popcorn bowl in my direction, "Eat your popcorn."

"You're hiding something." I smirked, triumphantly, "You two are totally a thing."

He cast a downward glare in my direction, a silent warning for me to shut up before I said something stupid. Well, stupid-er. I was pretty good at saying stupid things on a regular basis. With a grudging sigh, I sat back, punching a fist into the popcorn bowl and stuffing my face. Every defiant bone in my body wanted to continue pressing him, but I thought about what I knew of him and his character, and decided to respectfully surrender.

The guy shared his emotions as easily as a politician. Only, Dean Winchester didn't have to give any false pretense. He could just tell you to shut up.

Which he did. A lot.

So we watched in silence as the Dean on screen started to slowly warm up to the mysterious angel in a trench coat. You could tell he was looking on with fondness the entire time though. If they weren't romantic, those two were the world's closest (100% platonic and totally would bite your head off if you said otherwise) friends. Not that there was anything wrong with not getting romantically involved with a close friend. Hell, before shit had started to hit the fan in my life, I had some just like that. The only reason I didn't pursue anything more was because in the end, it would probably cause more harm than good. I wonder if Dean and Cas weren't an open item exactly for that reason.

Content to not push any further, I let myself relax, smothering myself in the warmth of the couch at my back and Dean at my side. It was comfortable and peaceful, serene even with the dull sounds of fighting from the television. I was enjoying myself. With a final to resign myself and let Dean be, I felt my eyes close.

Corny as it sounds, I was happy. It was fun bantering with someone and not caring what they thought about me. It was nice to not have to put up any kind of polite front with him. Maybe that was what people found so appealing about the Winchesters, you never had to lie to them. No chick flick moments, yeah, but every emotion was still there. The loyalty, the righteous underlining, the promise to try their best, even for complete strangers.

It made me feel safe.

He made me feel safe.

I was safe.

I know it's corny, waking up in some man's strong arms as you're lifted away from where you fell asleep, but that's really what happened. Now, I'm a die hard romantic. Having someone carry you to bed is about as suggestive as it gets. The warm muscles contracting behind your back, your head supported on their shoulder, listening to their heart beat a low, steady rhythm. It was peaceful. All I wanted to do was cuddle into that soft drumming, relish in the heat and go back to sleeping. I shouldn't be letting him carry me though, I could walk just fine.

"Dean..." I mumbled in protest, lazily trying to brush him off, even though I was content where I was.

A soft snicker came from my carrier, "Sorry to disappoint love."

"Crowley?" I attempted, slowly becoming a little more awake.

"Were you expecting the squirrel?"

I huffed, relaxing back into his embrace. Demon or not, he was still warm, and I still felt safe. Plus, squirm too much I could get dropped and that just didn't sound like any fun at all. There was no threat to fight at the moment, so I let myself be pampered. Carried away from the couch where Dean had undoubtedly fallen asleep himself, I grinned, "You going to carry Dean to bed like a princess too?"

He snickered, "The pretty eyelashes aside, I think the man would have my head."

I mumbled sleepily, nuzzling my face into his jacket like a puppy. It would have been embarrassing if I wasn't so out of it. It was just... really comfortable. I almost wanted to whine when I was finally settled down onto my mattress. There was a faint upper curl to his lip, some that made me want to punch his shoulder. Instead I grumbled a small thanks and snuggled into my pillow. He had the nerve to chuckle at me, the smug bastard.