Everyone has a mental image of the ideal man. Some girls yearn for a fairy tale. They fantasize about a prince charming or a white knight who will sweep them off their feet and make them live happily ever after. They want the big house with the white picket fence, two and a half kids, and a dog... I'm a realist.

I'm not going to have a prince, a big house, or two and a half kids, but that's okay with me. Everyone has a mental image of the ideal man...and I'm no exception...

My ideal man possesses five key characteristics. The man of my dreams smells like home... honeysuckle, leather and peppermint. It's an unusual mix, to be sure, but there's nothing more soothing than the smell of leather, honeysuckle, and peppermint.

From across the room, I observed Dean cleaning his Winchester 1897 pump shotgun. The Winchesters have a diverse arsenal of artillery, but this shotgun is by far Dean's favorite since it was an eleventh birthday present from his father. Sammy, Dean's eleven-year-old younger brother, was watching the TMNT animated series in the living room.

Dean turned his head in my direction, as if he sensed me watching him. I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned before returning his gaze to his shotgun. We looked up at our fathers' rising voices. Daniel, my father, trailed behind John, hands in the air, shouting.

When I looked at Dean, he shook his head and stooped down to blow some invisible dust off his gun. While they fought, I took out a hunting knife with a curved, serrated-edged blade, symbols down the blade, and an antler handle that had previously belonged to my late mother, Abigail, and began sharpening it.

"It's a crazy idea..I'm not doing it, John..."

I could hear the warning in John's voice.

"Daniel..."

"No, don't Daniel me…it's dangerous. We're not going to use anyone as bait. We'll devise another strategy. I can't believe you'd ever consider doing that to our children... you crazy jackass.."

He murmured the last part to himself, but John overheard him, which sparked yet another fight. They exited the room as swiftly as they entered, completely ignoring Dean and me. I put down my mother's knife and started getting things together to make some more salt and silver rounds.

"Hey princess…"

I glanced briefly at Dean before returning my attention to the items in front of me.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna run out and pick up some grub. Wanna ride along?"

I sighed. "I guess."

He snorted as he took the keys to his father's 1967 Chevy Impala and approached the door. I know John promised him the car when he got eighteen, and now that Dean is fifteen and has his learners permit, he can drive it on occasion. Not that it matters—Dean has known how to drive since he was Sam's age and had to drive John to the hospital after a hunt went wrong.

"Nobody's twisting your arm."

I set the casing down, brushed my hands off, and grabbed my jacket. "Please, if I don't come with you, I can forget about getting anything I like for dinner…"

He smirked and walked out the door.

My ideal man possesses five key characteristics. The man of my dreams sounds relaxing... a husky voice, classic rock, and the purr of a classic car. To me, the most soothing noises in the world are terrific rock music, the vibration of a heavy machine, and a voice that can be hard and gentle at the same time. They are the sounds of deliverance.

Rubberneckin' by Elvis Presley blared over the speakers as I looked over and saw Dean bob his head in sync with the music. I smirked, shifted my gaze away from him, and gazed out the window. Miles of road passed us by, and I sighed.

Dean tapped his hands on the steering wheel, and his words resonated throughout the vehicle. "Stop, look, and listen, baby; that's my philosophy. It's called Rubberneckin' Baby, but that's all right with me. People say I'm wasting time, but they don't really know. I like what I see, and I see what I like; it gives me such a glow."

I struggled to hold back my laughter. When I turned to face him, I noticed him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I grinned. "Are you all right, Dean? You sound as if you're in pain..."

He sneered as he signaled and made the next right turn towards town. "Nice Dani, here I am singing my heart out in an attempt to impress you, and all you have are jokes. I see how it is, and just for that, I'm gonna belt out Joan Jett on the way back."

I sighed as he parked in front of Burger Master, a prominent burger establishment in town. It's not surprising that he chose this restaurant for our supper; he's been a fan of their hot fudge malt and smoky burger since I brought him here months ago to celebrate his birthday.

He turned off the car, opened his door, got out, and shut it again before peering in through his open window at me. "Lets go princess, up and at 'em."

I rolled my eyes.

My ideal man has five very distinct qualities. The man of my dreams knows how to be scary and soothing. Rugged yet innocent... James Dean's demeanor and beautiful eyes. Who doesn't like a good-looking man? Nothing is more reassuring than a man who takes command, knows his way around any gun, and yet can convey deep depths of emotion with his eyes.

As Dean placed our order, I leaned against the counter.

Someone walked in front of me as I opened my mouth to remind Dean not to forget the chili cheese fries. I turned to face him and he gave me a dumbass grin. "My friends bet I can't talk to the prettiest girl. Want to use their money to buy us a few drinks?"

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a tight smile. "Not the least bit interested."

When I turned around, he grabbed my arm to block me from getting away from him entirely. I gazed down at his hand before turning to face him. He scowled. "You'll go when I say you can go, pretty face."

"You're about to have a problem with getting punched in the face, if you don't let go of my arm." I cautioned him, and before he could say or do anything further, Dean moved behind me.

When I looked over at him, he was staring at the guy who appeared to be a few years older than us. As he spoke, his jaw tightened. "I believe she said she wasn't interested. Right now, the best thing you can do is to get lost."

He scoffed at Dean and returned his attention to me. He opened his mouth, but Dean's fist collided with his nose before he could utter anything. The man lost grip of my arm and went limp on the floor. The impact of his body hitting the floor echoed across the wooden floorboards.

When I looked around the dive, I noticed that everyone was staring at us. Way to go, Dean. I turned and levelled him with a half-hearted glare. "Didya have to do that?"

He shrugged and returned to the counter, pulling out a few twenties. "Was he bothering you?"

"A little, but nothing I couldn't handle."

"I'm sure you could have."

I spoke in a warning tone. "Dean..."

He stared at me, then down at my arm, which was slightly red due to the guy's grip on it. I saw concern in his eyes as he carefully held my elbow in his palm and brought my arm towards him. I sighed as I noticed the muscle in his jaw start twitching.

"It's nothing to worry about. The red will fade in a few minutes."

I melted when he looked up and made eye contact with me. I could see amber specks pooling in his deep green eyes. He said a lot with his eyes as he let go of my arm. "You're good."

"That's what I said."

As he paid the cashier, he nodded and I leaned my elbows on the counter.

"Don't forget the chili cheese fries…"

"Got em."

Dean smiled at the young man behind the cash register. "Sorry about that. You can keep the change." He motioned to the guy who was still passed out on the floor over his shoulder. He took the bag and walked over him to the entrance. When he opened it, it jingled, and he called over his shoulder.

"Get a move on Dani, we ain't got all day!"

I shook my head and stepped over him, not even looking at him as I followed Dean out the door.

My ideal man has five very distinct qualities. The man of my dreams feels strong. Rough around the edges, callused hands, with the lean muscles of a fighter. Everyone admires a man of strength. Someone to be their rock when they don't have any more strength. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not some damsel in distress in need of a man to save me, but every now and again it's great to know there's one nearby if I do.

I couldn't stop thinking about how gorgeous the scenery was as I watched the deserted road rush by us on the way back to my house. With the sun sinking over the enormous trees miles into the mountains, I could almost imagine Dean and I as a normal couple on an outing. No stress associated with hunting monsters and being on the road.

As if.

I sighed but didn't move my gaze away from the window. Dean gave me a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the road. When he heard an ACDC song, he turned it up a notch. At least it ain't Joan Jett.

As he started singing along to the song Back in Black, I felt a callused hand intertwine itself with mine. I glanced over at him, startled, but he kept his eyes on the road. I felt his thumb rub over the front of my hand and I leaned back against the seat to relax. Dean and I don't have many tender moments, but when we do, they mean the world to me, and I'm sure he feels the same way, even if he'd never admit it.

When the song ended, he cleared his throat and lightly squeezed my hand. "Penny for your thoughts?"

I shrugged. "Surprisingly I'm not thinkin' 'bout much at the moment."

He chuckled. "That actually doesn't surprise me at all."

I reached over to him and hit him in the arm. He chuckled and gazed at me with a lighthearted smile. "You're an ass."

"What was that? You like my ass?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're like an overgrown kid, you know that?"

He nodded. "And damn proud of it."

I only shook my head as his grin reached his eyes.

My ideal man has five very distinct qualities. The man of my dreams tastes like home. Sweet and spicy. How can a person experience sweet and spicy at the same time? I'm not sure how, but I know they can. It's similar to how you can sometimes taste a fragrance when you consume certain foods or how hot cocoa with cinnamon and nutmeg tastes like Christmas. It consistently brings back recollections of home and warmth.

I stared up at the stars, watching as a new one appeared every few minutes or so somewhere in the sky. I was leaning against the railing on the back patio to catch some fresh air. My smile widened as I felt muscular arms around my waist.

Before resting his head against my neck, he kissed the top of my head. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just enjoying the view."

I could feel his body move as he laughed. He stepped back and lifted his head off my shoulder. "Yeah? Well, so am I."

I shook my head and turned around. I reached out to punch him, but he stopped my strike and held me against the porch rail. He cocked his brow.

"You're getting sloppy."

"I let you pin me."

He shook his head as I smirked. He was keeping a tight eye on me. His grip on mine eased, and he went across to cup my face. I licked my lips, and his gaze was drawn to them. He leaned forward and took my mouth in his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him in closer. As he deepened the kiss, he moved one hand to my hip. A minute later, I broke the kiss, and he laid his forehead against mine as we caught our breaths.

As he dropped a little kiss on my nose, I fiddled with the lapels of his jacket.

It's in these moments when I forget who we are and what we do. Where Dean and I are normal teenagers trying to make a relationship work, and it isn't until the morning when reality hits that I realize we aren't, but lately I've been g ood with it. We'll figure it out along the way... that's what Dean said not too long ago.

As I previously stated, everyone has a mental image of the ideal man. Some girls yearn for a fairy tale. They fantasize about a prince charming or a white knight who will sweep them off their feet and make them live happily ever after. They want the big house with the white picket fence, two and a half kids, and a dog.

All I want is to love someone who loves me back, and that someone happens to be the man of my dreams. Moreover, believe it or not, I'm the woman of his fantasies. It's strange how that works out, isn't it?

EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester: That's so sweet. Thank you!