Dean approached George's house the next morning, but before he could raise a hand and knock Micah slid out from under a car in the driveway.

"If you're looking for George she's out back" Dean turned around, startled, hand flying to the knife he kept hidden beneath the folds of his clothes.

There was a box of tools opened up next to him and the car's hood was open. Micah was covered with grime and grease, his shirt that probably was once white was lying on the ground next to the box and covered with grease, dying it almost completely black.

"Thanks" Dean said.

Micah grunted in response and slid back under the car.

He walked around, taking note of how messy the lawn was and how sports-centric it seemed to be. There were bikes and skateboards scattered around everywhere, the trees had tire swings hanging from them, there was another tool box at the bottom of a ladder, toys and broken pieces of what was once furniture were scattered everywhere and he even saw a busted up goal post. There were balls everywhere, basketball, soccer, football and pretty much everything else you could think of. Hockey masks and sticks, broken hoops and a whole bunch of other stuff were all propped up on the walls or hanging out of trees.

When Dean reached the backyard he saw that it was just as messy as the front and sides. There was a tool shed near the back fence and there were toys all over the ground.

A glint of red caught his eye and he found George sprawled out on a hanging swing set, taking up the whole thing, wearing shorts that hiked up, exposing more thigh than she was probably aiming for and allowing him to see the edge of her plaid boy shorts. She paired it with a black tank with the Metallica logo on it. One of her long legs and an arm was hanging off the side of the swing and her foot and hand grazed the grass, occasionally one of her toes or fingers would grab on to the grass and the swings would stop before she kicked out with her leg and it would resume its pace.

Her other arm was resting on her abdomen and her leg was pulled up, and he would probably be able to take a look right down her pants and see that pretty ass of hers if he stood close enough. Keith and Emerson were wrestling on the ground in front of her and Josh was trying to break it up while reading at the same time.

As Dean got closer he saw that her eyes were closed, probably to block out the heavy glare of the sun. Her hair seemed to change color as the swing rocked back and forth and she had a pair of headphones on, her hand covering her CD player which was lying on her stomach. Sunscreen was rubbed on her nose and her fingers tapped against the player in no particular rhythm. She was humming softly, her voice sending a chill down his spine, but it was a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar to him, especially when he was around George.

Only, when he was around George.

He sat down on what little space was left on the chair and the rest of him that didn't fit was on her foot.

"Hey Dean"

"Hi George"

She pulled her foot out from under him and sat up.

"No work at the diner today?" he asked trying to keep his eyes from straying down to her chest.

"Nope. I got Jean to take my shift, have to do the laundry for a week though" Dean nodded.

"Why didn't you bring Sam? According to Josh he's the only person who can 'carry out an intelligent conversation' around here. Because apparently the rest of us are a bunch of hicks because we haven't memorized Macbeth"

"What's Macbeth?" he asked, she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You being sarcastic or stupid?" her voice was neutral, not judgmental, Dean paused for a second before answering.

"Sarcastic"

"Huh"

"What huh?"

"Nothing huh"

"Whatever"

"C'mon. I need to go and put this in my room. Then go check on Jean. He has a tendency to make a mess of things" her hand closed around his wrist and she pulled him up with her and dragged him into the house and up the stairs.

It was only when they finally got to her room, after what seemed like centuries where Dean had to suppress the urge to slip his own fingers through hers and kiss her senseless, did she let go of him.

And that was only so she could fish in her back pocket for her room key.

"Kinda hard to get any privacy when you've got six brothers y'know?" she finally managed to pull out her keys and unlock the door to her room.

"Gotta keep things locked tight" she looked over her shoulder and winked at him then pushed the door open.

Dean was not surprised to find that George's room was a mess. It was like something exploded, it was a surprise he could see any part of the floor and that was only the small part in front of the bathroom door. There were CD cases strewn everywhere and books and magazines lying open. Her bed was unmade and he could see a pile of underwear at the foot of it.

She stood in front of it, her face turning a shade of crimson that would have probably looked disgusting on most girls but Dean didn't think she could have looked disgusting if her face turned green, trying to hide it. Dean saved her the trouble and looked away, smirking, pretending not to have seen it, and continued analyzing her room.

Her bedside table's every inch was covered with books and the top of a lamp was barely visible beneath a sweater that had been thrown over it. There was a bookcase near the window that was overflowing with books and board games and boxes. There were mismatched picture frames showing her and her family all over the place and an open photo album was lying on the floor.

There was a large blackboard leaning against one of the walls, complicated equations and numbers and variable and figures were crammed onto it in a thin, messy handwriting. He recalled her telling him that she was in advanced math classes. Now he knew why.

She walked over to the bookcase hurriedly and opened one of the drawers, there were wires and cables hanging out of it and she had to flatten them with her hand in order to get it to close again.

She turned on her heels and grinned widely.

"Like what you see Winchester?" she asked him and he laughed.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I found this and-" she proceeded to search through the piles of magazines and sort through the mountains of clothes.

Dean had to duck out of the way of a flying magazine and when he picked it up he saw that it was an auto magazine. He picked up another one. Video games.

"What are you looking for?"

"Hold on" she laid down on the floor and reached under the bed, she winced and grimaced as she pushed away whatever was under there, often ducking her head to take a look.

While she was doing this Dean got a nice view of her rear end, and her shirt had hiked up to reveal most of her back. By the time she had found what she was looking for she was halfway under the bed and Dean could see a part of her bra.

"Got it" she pulled out from under the bed, holding a magazine that looked like it had been to hell and back, and was tugging her shirt down.

"Thought you might like this" she handed it to him but instead of taking it he proceeded to check out her front.

"Dean" she said in a monotone, rolling her eyes, he smirked and took it from her.

It was a car magazine, the cover story was on the 1967 Chevy Impala. He grinned flipping to the story. It went on to describe all of its features and its pros and cons. Dean was happy to see that the list of pros was a lot longer than the list of cons.

"Awesome"

"Yeah? Knew you'd like it. C'mon. Dad's gonna kill me if anything happens to the diner"

"And by kill you, you mean?"

"I mean take away that fifteen dollars he added to my allowance"

"Aha" Dean let her take his hand again and drag him outside.

She let go of his hand soon as she saw that Micah was out from under the car and sipping a beer.

"Checking on Jean?"

"Yeah. And do you mind putting a shirt on?" she cocked an eyebrow at her brother expectantly.

"Why? I've already gotten the numbers of three chicks. Why stop now when I know they can each perform a very valuable service for me?" George sighed and shook her head.

"You are going to end up with AIDS some day. Or Harpies" Micah rolled his eyes and took a swig of beer.

As soon as George had her back turned he smirked in Dean's direction, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Dean smirked back.

***

They walked to the diner in anything but silence. Dean found out that George was just the naturally talkative type. She never went more than a minute without saying something, or making a comment on something he's said.

Dean sorta liked it though.

She wasn't the kind of girl who didn't have a filter and spoke whatever was on her mind though. She just rambled a bit. But Dean learned that there was a hell of a lot that she didn't say. She got this weird look from time to time and then would smile nervously and chew on her lip and look away.

Dean would stand there and try and figure out what was going on, slightly worried, but as soon as she quirked up again he would forget it and try to focus on deciphering what she was saying because she talked so fast that her words were always strung together and hard to understand.

Dean's heart strings still twanged every time she smiled at him and he still got goosebumps every time he heard her musical voice but the more familiar it got the easier it was to ignore.

The roads were empty and the parks and fields were empty. It was just the two of them walking down the sidewalk. She looked around, scrutinizing their surroundings.

"What the hell?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"It's like the whole town just went up into smoke" Dean suddenly noticed that it was unnaturally deserted.

As they got closer to the diner more and more cars appeared on the streets. She swore and muttered something that sounded like: "Fuck, Jean."

There was a throng of people standing outside the diner and from where they stood it looked like it was even more crowded on the inside.

"Fucking Christ" she said and began the task of pushing aside people to get through.

Excuse mes and I need to get ins were tossed around a lot but the majority were fuck yous and piss offs.

They finally managed to get inside and locate the nucleus of the crowd. There were eight people seemingly trying to beat the shit out of one.

It didn't really seem to be working.

Jean was much stronger than he looked and pretty quick on his feet, especially for his bulk.

They asked around and found out that the eight guys tried to rob the place but Jean managed to get their guns away from them and they were now trying to beat him up.

George was looking pretty pissed off and was muttering to herself while she watched the fight, a worried look in her eyes and an expression of nervousness on her face, aging her by almost ten years. Dean suddenly got an idea and relayed it onto her. George gave him a quick thank you hug but was gone before Dean managed to process what happened.

Within half a minute the overhead sprinklers turned on and everyone was getting drenched with water. Dean heard shrieks and yells as people pushed and jostled him to get out.

Many people were swearing but he was searching for the familiar mop of unique red hair that belonged to George. He found her pop up behind the counter. Her eyes observed the scene but then they narrowed dangerously and she disappeared again.

He noted that the fight hadn't broken up and tried to get to where she was. But before he could get close she emerged with an emergency fire hydrant in her hand. She took aim and squeezed the nozzle.

The brute fight was suddenly turned into people covered in white, staggering around blindly, afraid to open their eyes.

They heard police sirens outside and then a group of officers barged in, guns drawn, handcuffs hanging from their belts. They lowered the guns and their faces went from courageous to confused.

First they saw the nine people staggering around, then the broken glass of the windows and the turned over tables. Then their eyes turned to George who had come out from behind the counter and was leaning on the wall. Arms crossed, still holding the fire hydrant, a bitchy yet bored expression on her face and a cocked eyebrow.

Then their eyes met with Dean's and looked over his disheveled appearance. He could tell they were confused, wondering what the hell happened here.

"Hello officers if you could just arrested those eight I would really appreciate it" George said, a high voltage smile on her face.

"Yes ma'am" they said and closed handcuffs around their wrists, grateful someone was pointing them in the right direction.

"But we'll have to take you three in as well" George sighed, looking annoyed.

"Can't you talk to anyone else? There are a bunch of people outside who were here" Jean asked.

"No I'm afraid not. It's state policy"

Jean walked out grabbing a towel to wipe his face and George followed, stomping her feet to show her disapproval of the situation. She grabbed Dean's wrist and pulled him out with her, he let her drag him because he could tell she was obviously not in the mood to argue with him.

They had to wait at the police station for a long time until George's father and John showed up. They let them have one phone call each. George called Micah and told him to go get Sam. Dean called his dad and Jean called his.

They waited for almost five hours, Castiel was in the woods and John was in another town. By the time they showed up the three of them had gone through every card game made up in history and the small fridge in the police station had gone from full to empty.

The three of them gave their statements and then were released.

"Helluva group of kids you folks got" Dean overheard an officer tell their fathers.

The car ride home was quiet, Dean could tell his dad wasn't mad at him.

It made Dean happy to think that maybe his dad was actually proud of him. There was a look in his father's eyes that he had only ever seen twice before. He thought that maybe if his father was proud of him than maybe he would start letting him do his own thing, go on his own hunting trips. Trust him a little more.

It wasn't often that John Winchester ever shared his emotions, with anyone. He had enclosed himself in a shell and never let anyone in it. Sometimes a fracture would appear, a small crack, and someone would get a small glance into what this man, no, this hunter, was feeling and thinking.

But that happened on very few rare occasions.

When they got home Dean was sent to get Sam from George's house. He exchanged a quick look and a small smile with George while she sat there with Jean, head propped up in her hand, listening to her father lecture about how they should've called the cops and hid.

Sam told Dean that Jean had tried to take all the blame for it but George wouldn't let him. Dean's respect for her was growing by the minute and this was the whip cream on the pie. It wasn't needed but it made everything so much sweeter.

From their father's tone, Dean would have said that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Instead of shocked he sounded exasperated. It probably wasn't the first time.

**

She was pretty pissed off the next day. She and Jean were grounded, for a week. Her initial reaction was: What the fucking fuck? Then it turned to: Can we come down to eat? Can we leave to go to the bathroom? Does going to the bathroom count as leaving the room? What about work? She knew it wouldn't amount to anything, her father was, unfortunately, much too patient for that.

That didn't stop Dean from knocking on her door. His reasoning; Castiel never mentioned anything about anyone visiting them. She flung the door open, a spoon hanging out of her mouth and a box of vanilla ice cream in her hands.

Her mouth fell open at the site of him, the spoon falling out of her mouth but Dean caught it just in time.

"Oh. My. God. What're you wearing? Jesus Dean you're going to get fucking pneumonia" she ushered him into the house quickly.

It was colder than most days but the cold didn't bother Dean. She, on the other hand, was wearing jeans and a sweater. Dean smirked.

"Yet you're eating ice cream" he handed the spoon back to her and she took it from him, shrugging.

"At least I'm not going out and strutting around in nothing but a shirt and jeans" he smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'd strut around in nothing at all if you asked me too" she rolled her eyes and gave him her back, walking into the living room.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" she craned her neck around to look at him and cocked an eyebrow the spoon hanging from her mouth again.

Dean stomach churned and he could feel his length harden. Fuck. The look on her face and that damned spoon. It made him wish that there were other things hanging from her mouth. Things that belonged to him. She smirked, making his dick twitch even more.

"You saying you want me stuck in my room all day, Winchester?" She turned her whole body around now and held the spoon between her fingers like it was a cigarette, her hip jutted out and both her eyebrows raised.

That pose did not help the fantasies bubbling up in his head at all.

"If I could be stuck with you then sure" he smirked even further, just thinking about it.

She rolled her eyes again and walked towards him, bringing herself up to her full height and looking him straight in the eye.

"How do you manage to get any sleep at night?" she said, everything on her face hinted that she was glaring at him but her eyes were soft and smiling. Dean noticed that even when her tone was harsh and her face was screwed up with hatred, her eyes always gave her away. He hadn't seen true hatred in her eyes, yet.

"Dreaming about you helps a lot" he said, he hadn't meant it to be but his voice was soft and breathy.

He cleared his throat and she smiled. A lock of hair came loose and fell across her face, he smiled back and raised his hand, brushing it away. His dick was twitching uncontrollably now and she stepped closer to him, holding his hand in her own. Dean swallowed as her fingers slipped through his.

"George" he said, a little choked.

He hated to do it but he had to. There was no way he could hurt George. Dean was not a 'relationship guy' and he was sure that George wasn't the kind of person to get fucked and end it at that. George would want him to stick around, even if he would only be a friend. And he knew that if he stuck around afterwards it would make both of them feel awkward as hell and that was the last thing he wanted.

Plus there was the fact that he was going to be gone soon. He was sure of it. Soon his dad would crack the case of the haunted house and they'd move on to the next dingy motel room. Granted, his father hadn't shown any signs that he was leaving, but he was sure it would be any time soon and he just couldn't bring himself to hurt George like that.

"Yes?" her voice was breathy and fuck did it give him goosebumps, he had to swallow again.

She rested her head on his shoulder, reaching her hand up to tangle her fingers in his hair.

"I-I don't think w-we should be doing this" he said, his voice cracking with the effort.

"Why?" he was surprised not to find hurt or anger in her voice. It was the same breathy voice that did nothing to seduce him more.

"B-Because" Dean paused, he had no idea how to phrase it.

"Go on Winchester" he fucking loved it when she used his last name.

"Look, I don't do relationships. It's a fact of life. And I don't usually tend to hang around the chicks I fuck after the actual fucking" she pressed her lips together, he could almost see a smile behind them.

"Really? And why is that?" her breath tickled his ear and his insides squirmed and his groin heated up.

"I just…I can't stick to one person for a long time" he said quietly she pulled away from him and a gust of cold air rushed in to replace her head, a shiver going down his spine, she looked him in the eye, her gaze penetrating, forcing him to want to look away but he was mesmerized, he felt like his feet were rooted to the spot.

"Say the truth Dean" Dean's mind went blank, literally, and all he could think of was how he could phrase it properly so that she wouldn't be able to manipulate him into it, he knew that he was on the edge, an inch away from falling into a deep hole he wouldn't be able to climb out of and if she said the right things he would drop himself, maybe he would grab onto a branch but if she pushed him in then there was no hope.

The fact that she was tracing his hairline with her fingers so lightly it felt like someone had opened a window did not help much either. He swallowed, pushing the lump forming in his throat down, thinking that maybe if he established a clear firm voice she wouldn't push him into the hole.

"My dad, his job. We haven't ever stayed in one place long enough for me to do anything more than fuck. We'll probably be leaving soon and-" Dean didn't want to say it, it sounded stupid in his mind and he had no idea how it would sound out loud.

"And you don't want to see me get hurt" she finished for him in a low whisper returning her head back to its previous position.

"Exactly" he muttered, copying her in volume.

At that moment it didn't seem strange to him that she knew what he was thinking. He didn't even notice that she knew how to skip over the scar on the back of his head when she was running her fingers through his hair. All that mattered was that she accepted everything the way it was. Even after he had rejected her she still held on to him. All that mattered that she was content, for the time being, with keeping things the way they were.

Dean had no idea how long they stood there, her head on his shoulder, her fingers in his hair, his arm wrapped around her, pulling her close to his chest so he could smell her strawberry shampoo, stroking her hair, but whatever the amount of time it was it wouldn't be enough. He could stand all day, listening to her breathing, feeling her chest rise and fall against his own, feeling her breath on his neck. It was nice finally being able to relax, just sit down and stop moving for a while. Stop worrying. She helped him relax, she helped him forget everything and she helped his strained muscles just loosen up.

Maybe Dean was being a teensy bit selfish when he told her that they shouldn't do this. Maybe, Dean wanted to feel this again and he knew he would never be able to stick to one person, and Dean was positive that not only would she blow his balls out if he cheated on her but she would also never speak to him again. Never look at him again. He also knew that if he ever hurt her he would be hurt just as bad, so maybe Dean was being selfish. But, if he was being selfish, she wouldn't have accepted it so easily, don't ask how he knew but he did. She wouldn't have been able to let things be if he was only thinking of himself.

"Dean" she muttered into his neck after what seemed like an eternity.

"Yeah?"

"What if you're here next summer?" her breath tickled his flesh and Dean had to take a second to gain back his tensed composure.

"Just let next summer come. Okay?" he felt her nod against him and his body relaxed against hers once more.

"You're short" he suddenly blurted out.

She pulled away from him too fast, too cruelly. A shiver ran through his entire body, cold air hitting him fast, it was nearly nauseating. Her eyes narrowed at him dangerously and she eyed him from top to bottom.

"I'm not short. I'm five six, that isn't short." Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"Someone's insecure" he taunted.

"Shut up" she hit him on the arm, and pretty damn hard for a girl who had just made a move on him, he smirked trying to hide the fact that his arm was killing him.

"Insecure" he chanted and skipped around her.

"You're a gay asshole" she lashed out at him but he continued chanting.

She groaned out loud, rather vulgarly he might add, making his groin heat up and his insides churn. Before he could even begin to process his churning stomach she had jumped onto his back and clasped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist and, fuck, god help him, did his whole body just burn up. As if he needed the temptation, thoughts of her scorched and naked body wrapped around his own entered his mind. Thoughts of him pumping in her, and her clenched around him only made the lust worst.

He felt her warmth radiating off of her and took it all in, warming up immediately. She crossed her ankles over his abdomen and rested her head against the end of his neck and beginning of his shoulders.

"I'm not short" she murmured into his neck softly, her words were firm though, as if she was threatening to jump off his back and make him cold again.

Her plush lips moving against his flesh sent ripples through his spine, he could almost picture them moving, forming words he had to concentrate hard on to understand, too distracted by those damn lips. Another thing he could picture was her trailing kisses along his chest, her taking him in with her mouth, sucking him hard and dry. He could feel her breast heaving against his back in a rhythmic motion.

"Whatever you say" he replied, his tone equally as soft.

He could almost feel her smile.