"I swear to God, Dean," Liza snarls, pointing her wooden spoon at him threateningly," if you don't stop that damn tapping you'll need surgery to have this spoon removed!" He gives her a weird look, laying his hands flat on the small dining room table. "What is it now?" She turns back towards the stove again, stirring the chili she was cooking for lunch and adding some of Dean's beer into it along with some Cayenne pepper.
"Your eyes flickered a little, almost looked like a demon."
"You know they do that from time to time." They had just recently started doing that whenever she grew upset and it had her on edge. Zane said it was completely normal, that her biology would even out again once she was a little more mature. "And I hope you're starving because this is gonna last us awhile."
"I'll always be hungry," he murmurs huskily in her ear, nipping the lobe and winding his arms around her waist. "The good food's just a bonus." Liza lets out a shaky breath, letting her head drop back onto his shoulder and baring the side of her neck to him.
"Dean, the guys will be back any minute," she says breathlessly, turning in his arms and beginning to work on his buttoned shirt all the same. Dean groans a little, his lips pressed against Liza's in a kiss that had her gripping his shoulders just to stay upright. His hands slide from her waist to grip her thighs and lift her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his hips.
The front door slamming open makes the pair jump and break the heated kiss, Dean quickly setting Liza back on her feet before anyone could catch them. Uncle Bobby probably wouldn't give a crap, but Sam would make a fuss and that was always too annoying to deal with.
"Hand me some brown sugar," Liza demands to whoever would actually listen, holding out one hand while she used the other to flip the deer meat over in the skillet.
"Here ya go, Liza," Sam yawns, handing over the small package. She puts a couple of handfuls in the mixture and then a pinch of it in her mouth, enjoying the sweet taste and the way Dean whined when he caught her lips running over her lip. "I'm gonna go shower."
"Good, you smell like deer piss." Sam grunts, heading out of the kitchen and leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him. "I'm not cleaning that up."
"Thanks for cooking tonight, Liz," Bobby says, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs and taking the fresh bottle of beer from Dean with a nod. "You don't know how happy I am that you got your cooking skills from your mom."
"But I can only cook chili."
"Yeah, and you cook a damn good chili." Laughing, she turns off both burners and starts getting bowls out of the cabinets. "What kind of meat are ya mixin' in it this time?"
"Some of the deer you shot yesterday and the rest of the rabbit. It should be interesting." Dean scoffs, grabbing a bowl and bumping her out of his way so that he can start eating. Liza shares a look with Bobby before abandoning the too-hot kitchen for the living room and a re-run of Once Upon a Time.
All of them had just got back from a three-week ghoul hunt and all Liza wanted was to sprawl out on the old couch and admire the jean-clad ass of one Emma Swan. The hunt had been pretty bad, Liza ending up with a dislocated shoulder and a broken toe—the latter happened when she was expected to run out to the car while half-awake and stubbed it on the corner of a wall. Needless to say, this little vacation has been nice and pain free.
Uncle Bobby plops down on the couch next to her, setting a bottle of beer on the coffee table and leaning back to eat and watch TV. "So, what's happening in this episode?" Liza smirks, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"Hook gets his ass beat," she answers, stealing a bit of his chili with a triumphant look. "I guess this latest hunt didn't go so well, huh, Uncle B?" Bobby shrugs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him.
"Eh, Sam and I got distracted in town and by the time we got out to the woods some idjits were makin' too much noise." He leans forward and picks up today's newspaper and drops it in her lap for her to look through. What surprised Liza was that it wasn't from Sioux Falls or even South Dakota, it's from Oklahoma. The headline read:
KRUEGER'S LASTEST VICTIM
The serial killer, known to police as Krueger, has struck again in Tulsa. The victim is Charlotte Kent, a seventeen-year-old track star. Like the other victims, she had four slanted gashes on her chest and died of blood loss soon afterwards. The police have found no evidence at any of the three crime scenes and believe this to be the work of a professional and are unable to find any leads at this time.
Liza raises an eyebrow at the article, supposing this is the one her uncle meant for her to read and not the cooking tips on the side panel. "Is this serious?"
"As far as I can tell. A hunter mailed it to me three days ago askin' for some help. You up for it, Cinderella?" She grins at him, standing up and bolting upstairs to pack a bag. "Is that a yes?"
Sorry if the news article seemed kind of bland, but that's just what I could come up with. Today just seemed like the type of day to write for Supernatural—dark and stormy.