Did You Want SomeTHING?

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, halfway through a slice of apricotty goodness, when a quiet voice behind him said, "Are you still… hungry?"

He whipped around to see Ronnie standing there in a singlet and pyjama pants, smiling at him. He realised that he'd never seen her with her hair loose before. It was serious headbanger material. She looked… tousled. Interestingly tousled.

"Oh, er, hi, Ronnie," he stammered. He'd forgotten how damned quiet she could be.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked him, sitting beside him.

"Um, no," he admitted. "I thought I'd just come out and get a drink. And a snack. I hope it's okay."

"Of course it is," she reassured him, smiling again, and moving, he thought, just a bit too far into his personal space. "You're a guest here, and it's a host's duty to make sure that a guest doesn't leave… unsatisfied."

There was something (Thing?) odd in her tone, he thought; it must've shown on his face, because she drew back slightly, looking almost hurt. "It's okay, Dean," she said, "I'm nothing to be afraid of. I don't bite. Well," she continued, smiling again, and leaning back into his space, "Okay, I do bite, but not unless you want me to, but only with my human teeth, and I don't leave marks… usually…"

Dean smiled uncertainly, and shuffled his chair sideways. She followed him. "Er, okay… this pie is really good, Andrew's right, you are a really good cook."

"I have many talents, Dean," she purred, leaning on his arm and inhaling deeply. "Mmmmmm, don't you smell good…"

He leapt up from the chair with a squawk. "Um, you know, I think I might just go back to bed," he stammered, scooting around to put the table between them. Ronnie grinned, showing rather a lot of teeth, he thought, and fixed him with a stare that was uncomfortable.

"I don't believe this. Dean Winchester, are you trying to play coy?" She slunk towards him. "You once tried to seduce me. You were so keen, you chased me up a tree."

He circled the other way. "That was under the influence of a curse!" he said. "Look, Ronnie, I don't know what you're thinking…" he began, but she cut him off with a short, sharp snarling noise.

"I don't need to think, Dean. I could hear your heart thumping from upstairs, then I come down here to find you positively stinking of lust, I know what that means now. I have Denned. I have taken a mate… oh, that's adorable, "she commented as he swallowed a couple of times, and backed up again. She smiled. "You want me to chase you? You like to be… pursued? I can do that." She was suddenly on the table, crouched like a wolf ready to pounce, chewing at her bottom lip.

"Ronnie… Andrew…" he tried again, "What about Andrew?"

"Andrew?" she waved a hand dismissively. "He's out cold. He'll be asleep for hours yet. Poor thing, sometimes I just wear him out. Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you."

"Yeeergl," said Dean, his eyes bugging. He made a dash for the doorway, but she was too quick, springing off the table to pin him against the wall before he made it halfway. She put her face to his neck, and sniffed deeply again. Disturbingly, there was something uncomfortably arousing about the way she pinned him and did that…

"You're real alpha male material, aren't you, Pheromone Boy?" she crooned appreciatively, as he tried to twist away from her. "Dean, what's the matter? I won't hurt you. I promise I won't hurt you," she said in a gentle voice, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I promise. That is, "she leered up at him, "Unless you'd like me to, just a bit…"

"Ummmmmmm," he squirmed desperately, but that only made her giggle.

"Oooh, do that again!" she laughed, pressing herself against him, "I like that! Oh, so do you, apparently…"

"Yeeeeeeep!" To his horror, he discovered that it was kind of, well, enjoyable in a completely inappropriate way, then she snapped the waistband of his sweatpants playfully, and he cursed the part of him that couldn't help itself, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances were… damn it, she was someone else's partner, and this was a time to be thinking with the Upstairs Brain! And not about the possibilities of some very enjoyable activity with an apparently enthusiastic woman, and definitely not about the… Thing! Oh God, the Thing… Think, think… she was a werewolf, and he couldn't break away from her, and trying only seemed to encourage her…

"Sam!" he gasped, slapping at her hand as she tweaked the hem of his t-shirt, "Sam! He's a very light sleeper! He'd be traumatised forever! I don't want to wake up Sam! Really, I don't want to WAKE UP, SAM!" he raised his voice, willing Sam to wake up and come to investigate. She frowned at him, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shhhhhh, keep your voice down, or you will wake him up! And you don't really want an audience, do you? No?" He shook his head for 'no', and she let go.

"Don't play shy with me, Winchester," she rumbled, "I know you've looked at me. In that Goodwill wedding dress. You wondered just how many tatts I have, didn't you?" She ran a finger slowly down his chest. "I could feel you looking at me. I'm quite a specimen, aren't I? You wondered what this… " she paused, stretched, let muscles in her arm and chest bunch and move in a most interesting way, "… would be like."

Damn. Guilty as charged. She smiled, a predatory expression, at his silence.

"You've never been with a she-werewolf before, have you?" He shook his head again, and she smiled, leered, at him. "I can show you something, Dean. You might've done it doggy-style, but you've never done it wolf-style…" she leaned in close, her teeth nearly brushing against his ear, "If you like, we can pretend I'm forcing myself on you. There's this… Thing I can do…"

"A… Thing?" he squeaked, thinking No, no, no, this is not happening…

…really, the… Thing?

She stepped back suddenly, and changed as he watched, her features becoming lupine and feral, her hand extending to extrude claws, Jesus Christ, she was going wolf… she growled, and slashed at his chest. Four neat, parallel tears shredded his t-shirt. As quickly as it had happened, she was fully human again, her arms pinning him to the wall once more.

"Oh, Dean, I'm going to make you howl …"

Oh, God, the Thing, the THING…

"NO!" he practically shouted at her, summoning all his strength and pushing her away from him. "No! Ronnie, this is not going to happen! I don't know what's gotten into you…" she smirked, smirked at him, and chewed her bottom lip again, and he groaned, "Er, poor choice of words, sorry… I don't know what you're thinking, but this is NOT going to happen! You are…you are Andrew's mate! I've seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at each other! You're a pair! Pair-bonded! I might be a womaniser, Ronnie, but you don't mess with another man's woman, you just DON'T!" She hesitated briefly, and he continued, "Yeah, okay, I might've looked at you, Ronnie, you're something else, and, and, the… Thing… oh God, the… Thing… but you'll hate yourself tomorrow. I don't mess with someone else's woman, Ronnie, never someone else's woman! Never! I won't!"

"Damned right, you won't," said a voice from behind them. Ronnie stepped back from him with a snarl, and Dean saw Andrew standing in the kitchen, bristling with anger. His face looked similar to the half-transformation Ronnie had undergone moments before, fangs showing, and he radiated rage. Now, she stepped between them, facing Andrew, snarling, her face becoming lupine again.

"Don't get in the way when an alpha female is hunting, dear, I thought I taught you that. Go back to bed."

"I will, woman, I will," he snarled, "And you're coming with me, just as soon as I've dealt with this damned human…"

"Hey, find your own prey, I'm hunting younger meat tonight!" she shouted back – was she pouting? - "Or just go back to sleep, you lump! Don't think I'm doing that Thing for you again tonight, you've interrupted my fun." She stepped back towards Dean, grabbing hold of his arm possessively.

Dean looked around frantically for an escape, a weapon, anything, to extract himself from the middle of what appeared to be a brewing werewolf domestic dispute that looked like it might escalate to serious violence, or serious sex, either of which could be equally deadly. It had truly been a day that totally sucked ass. It couldn't possibly get any worse…

Until, of course, it did.

"Guys? What's all the noise?" Sam appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, then looking blearily at the scene before him, asking bemusedly, "What's going on?"

"Sam!" yelled Dean, throwing his brother a beseeching look, "Get out of here!" Training took over, and without a word Sam disappeared. Good boy, thought Dean.

Sam was back before either of the werewolves could react. "Nobody move!" he shouted, brandishing his…

Cell phone?

*click*

He took a picture.

"Okay, I got it," he said casually, inspecting the photo, and handing the cell to Andrew. "What do you think?"

Andrew took the phone and studied the photo critically, his face completely human again. "That's amazing. That's really amazing. You've captured the whole 'rabbit-in-the-spotlight' expression perfectly. The resolution on these things these days is unbelievable. I should upgrade."

"Let me see! Let me see!" chirped Ronnie, letting go of Dean and bouncing over to where Sam and Andrew were studying the phone. "Awwww, that's such a cute picture, he looks like he's just got out of bed and realised he's late for school…" she glanced back to Dean. "I hope that wasn't a favourite shirt."

Dean stood where he was, his mouth opening and shutting, trying to work out what the hell was going on.

One minute, he was about to be raped by a slavering sex-crazed nympho she-werewolf.

The next, he was about to be torn to pieces by the very angry mate of said slavering sex-crazed nympho she-werewolf.

Then his brother was… taking a picture?

"Gnaaaagh", he said.

"Close you're mouth Dean," said Ronnie, "You'll catch flies." The pie was still on the kitchen bench where Dean had taken it out of the refrigerator. "Anybody hungry?"

"Oooh look, pie!" said Andrew happily, reaching for the knife to cut himself a slice. "Anybody else?" Ronnie put her hand up and looked hopeful. "What about you Sam?" he asked through a mouthful of crumbs. Sam made an umming noise, unable to decide.

"HEY!" Dean found his voice, and it was full of bewilderment. "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?"

Sam turned to look at him. "I took your picture," he said. "You wanna see it? Yeah, Andrew, I'll have pie. Nuh-uh," he continued, snatching the phone out of Dean's reach, "I'll send it to you if you wanna see it. You are not deleting this one. It's pure gold."

"Have I just been…" Dean breathed, "Have I just been… pranked?"

"See?" said Sam, "I told you he'd figure it out pretty quick."

"Yeah," said Andrew, "I guess you can't be a Hunter and be dumb. Ow. Ronnie, I think I hurt my back falling off the bed…"

"Well, you shouldn't have jumped so high. "Jump a bit and make it creak," I said, not "Try to bounce yourself into orbit". You were like a five hear old. Anyway, I think he was just adorable," added Ronnie, licking fruit from her hand, "That whole "You don't mess with someone else's woman" bit, that was just so, so gallant. Who'da thunk it? Under that man-slut exterior beats the heart of a gentleman."

Dean stared at them, from one to the next. "Sam," he muttered quietly, in deadly tones, "You are dead. You are so dead…"

Sam pulled a wounded innocence look. "Hey, it wasn't my idea, it was Andrew who told me about your unwholesome interest in the, er, company of lady werewolves."

"Yeah, but Sam was the one who said, let's run with it," countered Andrew, in an 'it-wasn't-my-fault-really-it-wasn't' tone. "I just piqued your inappropriate interest. He came up with the details, blame him."

"It's your own fault, Dean," scolded Ronnie, "Serves you right for taking an unseemly interest in other people's private lives. We have cable, you could just have watched porn."

"I hate you all," Dean muttered, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands, "I hate you all so much…"

"What's up, Dean?" asked Sam in a concerned voice, "Is someTHING wrong? SomeTHING bugging you?"

"He looks a bit pale," conceded Ronnie, peering at Dean, "Dean, would you like someTHING else to eat?"

"He looks like he really needs someTHING to drink," said Andrew. "You drink bourbon, Dean? I think I have a bottle of someTHING up here…"

"Silver ammo," said Dean between clenched teeth, "I need silver ammo, it will kill werewolves, and sasquatches, for that matter…"

"Oh dear," said Sam sympathetically, "I THINGk you'd better make it a double, Andrew."

"Culling little brothers," Dean continued to mutter, "It wouldn't be homicide, really, it would be pest control."

"I'm going back to bed," announced Ronnie, yawning. Andrew put an arm around her.

"Good idea. We'll see you in the morning, guys. And we promise not to do anyTHING that might keep you awake."

"Fuck off", said Dean.

One day, researchers will figure out why being horrible to Dean is so much fun.