May 8th-9th, 2005

"Aaahh… Dean…"

"F-fuck. Lor." A deep moan tore from Lorelai's throat as she felt Dean pick up the pace, his thrusts coming faster and harder as they both got closer to coming undone.

"P-please… ooh, don't st – oh! Dean!"

"That's it, baby," he grunted, his breath coming out in pants. "Say my name."

"Dean!"

As the weekend drew to a close, Lorelai found herself in bed for the fourth night in a row with her handsome mystery man from Thursday. It was unusual behavior for her, spending so many consecutive nights with the same guy, but Dean Winchester had proven worthy of the exception. While he continued to pound into her, Lorelai felt her nails sink deeper into his shoulders, but if it bothered him, he didn't let on. Instead, he only suckled at her neck, sending waves of pleasure shooting down her body.

"Fuck, I'm so close," he groaned. "You're so tight. Lor…" The words that tumbled from his mouth became increasingly incoherent, but the timber of his voice stoked the already raging fire in her core. Lorelai felt herself going rigid around him, the muscles in her body coiling as he brought her closer and closer to her own release with him.

"Give it to me," she begged somewhat breathlessly. "Need you." Dean covered her lips with his, his tongue delving into the depths of her mouth and taking her breath away as his thrusts became even more erratic and urgent. Lorelai arched into him as she lost control, her body convulsing in pleasure around him. Dean moaned into her, the sound reverberating through his chest, as he gave his final, deep thrusts and slowed before breaking their kiss and all but collapsing on top of her.

They were both still breathing heavily when Dean rolled off her a moment later, pausing to kiss her briefly as he did so, and hooking an arm under her to hold her close. His free hand came up to wipe at his face, and Lorelai stretched, feeling content, and satisfied in a way she hadn't for a while. He pulled the now used condom before it made a mess, stuffing it back in the wrapper, before really settling in himself. Lorelai felt slightly guilty, knowing how unnecessary it was, but kept her mouth shut. Always easier to roll with it when sleeping with a Muggle.

"That was not what I had in mind when I called you earlier," Dean panted out. He sounded spent but satisfied, a combination she found rather pleasing.

"Oh, no?" she challenged, and Dean laughed, catching more of his breath.

"No! I told you, I wanted to take you to dinner. You know, do the date thing, then mind blowing sex thing."

"Pretty sure you still had plenty to eat," she retorted without thinking. Dean turned his head, giving her a cheeky look, seeming rather happy with himself. Four nights in, and the man had already proven he was rather skilled with his tongue, and he knew it.

"Oh, I'm definitely not complainin', let's be clear about that. Just figuring it might be time you and I spent some time together, you know, outside of your bedroom."

Lorelai wasn't sure how obvious her surprise was, but she hoped she masked it somewhat well while her brain began short-circuiting. It wasn't like she didn't get asked out, because although she was generally pretty clear about her intentions – or rather, lack thereof – there were always guys still brave enough to try. But it was the first time she'd been asked in Merlin knew how long that any part of her actually wanted to say yes.

"Oh, you don't have to… that's not… I'm not expecting anything," she stuttered out. Dean seemed amused and regarded her through raised eyebrows.

"What makes you think I'm asking because I think you're expecting it?" Dean asked, and Lorelai felt her cheeks flush.

"I, uh… I – " The more flustered she got the more amused Dean seemed, though she could tell he was trying to hold back his smile. "You can't be serious, can you?" she finally asked, and Dean let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah, Lor, I am. Completely. Dinner, tomorrow night, somewhere outside of this cabin, you and me. What do you say?"

"I gotta admit… I didn't exactly get the vibe that dating was your kind of thing." If he was at all offended by her bluntness, Dean didn't show it. In fact, he was completely unphased, and gave a nonchalant shrug, holding her gaze the whole time.

"It's not," he admitted easily. "There's something different about you though." Lorelai couldn't stop the snort from escaping her lips.

"Yeah, maybe something in the water back home," she joked, and Dean laughed too, though he rolled his eyes.

"I don't doubt it," he retorted, shaking his head, "but that's not what I meant and you know it. C'mon, we had fun the other night, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "We did."

"And, I don't know about you, but I've been having fun since." Lorelai nodded easily at that, unconsciously licking her lips as her eyes flicked up to his again.

"Oh, absolutely," she agreed, and Dean's grin intensified. She had to keep herself from laughing when he waggled his eyebrows.

"Alright then. So let's go on a date. I know we both travel a lot, but that's what normal people do, don't they?"

"Dean, really, you don't have to do this. I'm not expecting anything, and I'm not gonna get weird on you if we keep doing this. I'm down to just have a good time. It's not like either of us is sticking around here."

Lorelai wasn't sure why she was fighting it so hard, and so when Dean brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and kissed her gently but deeply, she was relieved she hadn't scared him off. Not that she'd have blamed him if she had. She wasn't intentionally playing hard-to-get, but she knew it's what was happening anyway.

"Hey Lor?" he asked quietly, that stupid nickname making her stomach flip again.

"Yeah?"

"You like me?" She thought about denying it, but in the end she bit her bottom lip and nodded.

"Yes." A grin split across Dean's face and he kissed her again.

"Good. I like you too," he told her when he broke off the kiss. "Let me take you on a date tomorrow night, and if you still like me after we can come back here, and I'll fuck you senseless again. I promise."

The next day, Dean found himself sitting at a small wooden table in the public library, his eyes scanning the microfiche and his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the surface. A little after a week of rolling into town he felt comfortable identifying the so-called animal attacks as the work of a werewolf, but that was about all the progress he'd made. The attacks had stopped with the lunar cycle, which left Dean with a trail that had gone cold and a few weeks to work it out before they started up again.

The musty smell of old books filled his nostrils and his eyes glazed over as he searched through the records, trying to establish how far back the pattern of heartless bodies turning up went, but it was slow going. His theory had been that if he could figure out how far back it went, he might be able to narrow down the suspect pool. It was a small town, so it would be helpful to know if he was looking for someone that had lived there forever, or had only recently become a resident. However, despite being hours into his search, he was no further along than when he'd started.

He turned the microfiche off with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes, his rugged features drawn tight with weariness. Hunting solo didn't usually faze Dean Winchester, but lately the solitude had been wearing on him differently, and the silence of the library was only making that more pronounced. If he thought about it, he'd guess it had something to do with the fact that it was quickly becoming the norm instead of the exception, but he wasn't really interested in thinking about it.

The clock above the circulation desk chimed noon, its bell echoing out across the rows of shelves. Dean glanced up wearily. It was early, but he'd had enough for the day. His focus was just about shot anyway, and his stomach was rumbling. With a resigned sigh, knowing he'd be back at it tomorrow and what his dad would say if he were there, Dean gathered up the borrowed materials and went about returning them to their rightful place.

As he exited the library, Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, squinting against the bright sunlight washing over the sleepy town and doing his best to shake the uneasy feeling that came with leaving the work unfinished. His growing anxiety over the night ahead of him didn't help matters much.

He still didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking, asking Lorelai on a date. It was exactly what he'd told himself he wouldn't do, given that no good could come from it. He'd never done well with women. Scoring with chicks? Sure, he could do that, and he did, regularly. Any time feelings had gotten involved though, or he'd stuck around long enough for anyone to start expecting anything of him… well, it had always blown up pretty fast. Especially since Cassie, he'd been resolute in not breaking his no-strings rule. Better for everyone that way.

Lorelai though... the rules just didn't seem to apply with her. She made him feel like a damn teenager, and he tried to ignore the way his heart thrummed a little faster just at the thought of seeing her again in six hours. She was fiery and fierce in a way that made him feel like they could go toe to toe with each other - something he didn't often find - and vivacious in a way that drew him in... deeper than he cared to admit. Deep enough that he was starting not to care if it drowned him.

He was still worried it was a mistake, but it seemed like it was a mistake he was going to make no matter what his brain said, so he figured he'd at least try to make the best of it. Problem was, he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

His mind raced as he walked to the Impala. What did people even do on dates? Dinner, right? That's what he'd told her anyway. Maybe a movie. No, not a movie. Too impersonal. Dean wanted to talk to her, actually get to know her a bit - that was the whole point to taking her on the damn date. The idea of her getting to know him terrifying, but he'd figure it out. He could get through a dinner, he reasoned as he slid behind the wheel. It wasn't like it would be the first time... just the first time in a while.

"Okay, game plan," Dean said to his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Pick her up, nice dinner, no monster talk. Just...be normal for one night."

Even alone, he scoffed and shook his head. Normal was a joke in his world. This was going to be as much an exercise in futility as his hours at the library had been. Still, he'd give it a shot.

With a turn of the key, the Impala roared to life, and Dean pulled out onto the road, thoughts of monsters and dead bodies temporarily erased from his mind. His biggest issue now was finding somewhere nicer than Bryson's but still within his budget without the fake credit cards. He tried not to dwell on the fact that if Sam weren't at fucking Stanford, he'd probably have had some useful advice for tonight.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered.

A few hours later, with the day slipping into a warm evening, Dean found himself standing on Lorelai's porch, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. He'd almost talked himself out of the flowers half a dozen times on the drive over—too sappy, too old school—but there he was, holding what felt like a bizarre peace offering.

"Hey," he greeted as the door swung open, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. He held out the flowers with a shrug. "I know it's kinda lame, but—"

But Lorelai's smile cut him off, bright and taken aback, as if no one had ever brought her flowers before. She reached out, her fingers brushing his as she took them. Her features were softer than Dean had seen them so far, and he was reminded that she was likely just as out of her depth. "These are beautiful, Dean. Thank you."

The awkwardness that had been clinging to him like cobwebs dissolved as she disappeared for a moment, returning with the flowers now in a vase. They added a splash of color to her otherwise drab entryway, and Dean couldn't help but think they looked like they belonged there.

"Ready to go?" he asked, feeling a notch more confident as she nodded, grabbing a light jacket from a hook by the door. She shrugged it over the simple black dress she'd pulled on - one that clung to her curves in all the right places, and dipped at the neckline to give him a tantalizing preview of what he knew was underneath. That, he reminded himself, would need to wait tonight.

As they walked across the yard the evening air carried the scent of the flowers mixed with Lorelai's perfume—a combination that was unexpectedly intoxicating. Dean surprised both of them when they reached the Impala, stopping and opening the passenger door. Lorelai's raised eyebrow told him she didn't miss the gesture.

"Trying to impress me, Winchester?" she teased, but there was warmth in her voice.

"Maybe just a little," Dean admitted, the corner of his mouth ticking up. He closed the door once she was settled and walked around to the driver's side, feeling a rare flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of a hunt.

The restaurant he'd chosen wasn't the kind of place with a dress code or a maître d', but it had an understated charm that Dean hoped would set the right tone. The hostess led them to a table outside under the soft glow of string lights that turned everything golden. The simple wooden tables and chairs were surrounded by potted plants and small trees that swayed gently in the breeze, providing a sense of privacy.

"Nice place," Lorelai commented, taking in the ambiance with an appreciative nod.

"That was the goal," Dean reminded her, scanning the menu. It was the kind of menu where he recognized everything listed, which was a relief.

They ordered, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the patio, Dean found himself relaxing into the rhythm of their conversation, the easy back-and-forth they'd fallen into since meeting. There was laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the low murmur of other diners' conversations drifting on the air. The only nerve-racking part of their meal was when the conversation inevitably got back around to "work."

"So what exactly does a mechanic need in Tullahoma?" Lorelai asked once their appetizers had been brought out. She was twirling a strand of spaghetti around her fork with an ease and finesse that made her mishap with the pancake batter all that more amusing.

"Ah well," he started, scratching the back of his neck with a half-smile, mentally scrambling for an answer. In all his planning, he realized he probably should have spent more time working out his cover story. "There ain't much goin' on here, but it's a good midpoint between a few different salvage yards in some of the surrounding cities." Lorelai hummed in acknowledgment, nodding her head while she chewed and dipped her fork back down to gather more of the pasta. The lie tasted unfamiliar on his tongue, but it served its purpose, keeping his real hunt under wraps. He'd forgotten she'd assumed at one point during that first night that he ran a garage with his dad, and that he'd decided to run with it.

"And what kind of badge does a mechanic carry around that lets him threaten to book a guy for a drunk and disorderly?"

Fuck.

Dean tried not to let the panic show on his face and instead took a sip from his beer, hoping like hell he could think his way out of the hole he'd found himself in.

"I uh, I did a brief stint as a beat cop before I joined the family business. Wasn't exactly supposed to keep the badge - it's expired, anyway… but it comes in handy sometimes. Y'know, with morons like that guy."

It wasn't particularly smooth, and for a moment Dean was sure that even if she believed him, it wouldn't paint him in the best light, or would at least raise more questions he wasn't ready to answer. He was beyond relieved when Lorelai let out a snort of laughter, a smirk appearing on her face just before she took another bite.

"Not exactly a rule follower, huh?" she asked, her brow quirked with intrigue. Dean laughed, hoping it came off as anything but awkward and quickly shifted the spotlight back onto her.

"What about you? It's not breakfast, but I'm hoping dinner counts as a step up."

She laughed, a sound as clear as the chime of glass, and shook her head. "It's really not anything all that glamorous. I'm a writer, and I got sent here on assignment."

"Oh?" he asked, leaning forward, trying not to swallow too hard or let it show how much that admission had effected him. He had a damn type, didn't he? "And what assignment could you have possibly been sent on here?" Lorelai rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink as she shook her head.

"My editor thought I might be able to find an angle on the dark, underbelly of small-town life. Short of the skeeze you scared off the other night, though, this place might as well be somewhere Norman Rockwell would live."

Dean scoffed lightly, glancing around at the serene setting. "Yeah, there ain't much happening around here, unless your boss was hoping for a headline about the annual bake sale at the church."

"Actually," she leaned in closer, her tone dipping into a conspiratorial whisper, "I think they were betting on the 'animal attacks' from a few weeks ago." She air-quoted with her fingers, a sardonic twist to her lips. "But those seem to have stopped. No story there."

"Animal attacks, huh?" Dean's heart thumped with a hunter's intuition, but he kept his expression neutral. It was the second uneasy moment of the night, but this one was easier to gloss over. "Sounds like slim pickings for a news story."

"Definitely," she agreed, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth with a motion that easily refocused his attention.

The waiter brought over their main course, and Dean watched as Lorelai dove into her meal without hesitation. It was steak, cooked medium-rare, juices seeping into the bed of mashed potatoes beside it. There was something disarmingly genuine about a woman who could appreciate a good meal—no pretenses, no salad forks to the side. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the usual dance of dining etiquette.

"Thinking about dessert?" Dean asked, catching the way her eyes flickered to the menu's sweet section.

"Always," she replied with a grin that reached her eyes. "Life's too short to skip the good stuff."

"Can't argue with that." He chuckled, already knowing how this would play out. "Pie's my weakness."

"Really? Pie's alright, but I'm more of a cake person myself." Her smile was infectious, lighting up the space between them more than any string of lights ever could.

"Guess we'll have to get both then," he said, the words easy and light.

"Guess we will," she shot back, her laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of conversation around them.

After dinner the Impala's engine hummed lowly as Dean guided it away from the lights of town, the night closing in around them as they went. A cool breeze slipped through the cracked windows, carrying with it the earthy smell of the Tennessee woods while they approached Short Springs Natural Area. His time at the library may not have been much help in his efforts to investigate the werewolf attacks, but it had proved a valuable resource in planning the date when he'd doubled back after lunch. Between the chatty librarian and the maps they had available, Dean had been able to cobble together ideas beyond dinner in no time.

Lorelai's presence next to him was a warm note in the cool harmony of the evening, her laughter spilling into the car's cabin with an ease that made him feel oddly at peace. He couldn't help but tease her for how excited she was when Gimme Shelter came on the radio, but she quickly dismissed him, telling him not to be a jackass, and began singing along. She had a nice voice, even without trying, and she'd pestered him until he'd joined in about halfway through.

Pulling off the road, Dean cut the engine and the world fell silent, save for the symphony of crickets and the rustling leaves. He popped the trunk, retrieving the cooler with a clink of bottles, and led the way to the hood of his baby.

"Figured we'd watch some stars," Dean said, offering Lorelai a beer from the cooler.

"That works for me," she replied cheerfully, accepting the bottle with a smile that seemed to mirror the starlight. "I used to love doing this as a kid."

They settled onto the Impala's hood, the metal still warm. With legs dangling over the grille, they leaned back - Dean bracing himself on his arms and Lorelai with her hands stretched out behind her, the vast expanse of the universe stretched out above them.

"Oh yeah?" It was the first she'd really mentioned anything potentially deeper than her current status quo, and Dean suddenly found his interest piqued. Lorelai nodded, her eyes already shifting up, that bottom lip of hers trapped between her teeth again.

"Mmm hmm," she hummed. "Spent most of my time when I was little staying at my godfather's. They live in the suburbs, so you could see the stars pretty well. I used to climb out on the roof when I couldn't sleep and just watch them."

"This place is something else," Dean mused, tipping his head back to take in the infinite scatter of stars.

"Kind of makes you feel small," Lorelai remarked, tilting her bottle towards the sky as if toasting the cosmos.

"Small, maybe. But part of something bigger too." He took a swig of his beer, the bitter taste grounding him. "Out here, it's easy to forget about... everything else."

"Everything else?" She turned to him, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

"I just meant it's peaceful," he backtracked. Lorelai smirked at him but nodded, taking a sip of her beer.

"Of course," she teased, bumping her shoulder playfully against his. Dean smiled, glancing sideways at her. Her dark blue eyes were bright and wide while she gazed upwards, a soft smile playing across her face and the strands of hair she'd left out of updo she'd done fluttered lightly around her head.

"So how about you?" she asked a moment later, startling him from his own thoughts.

"How about me what?" Lorelai motioned between them and the sky and he mouthed an ah, realizing what she was looking for.

"Oh yeah, beloved Winchester pastime," Dean said, adjusting to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She was warm and he liked the way she immediately moved to nestle into his side. "Like I said, we grew up moving around a lot, so there weren't a whole lot of constants. But when he could, Dad would find somewhere quiet we could lay out and watch the sky like this. This and mini golf were his go to's when he was trying to do something special."

Lorelai nodded, taking a drink from her beer, and Dean followed suit.

"Damien - that's my godfather, he tried to take us mini-golfing once or twice. I was terrible, but it was fun," she laughed.

"Yeah, we always had a good time," Dean agreed. "Definitely some of my better memories."

They settled back further onto the hood, laying out properly against the windshield after they each stashed the beers. Lorelai curled into him, and Dean held her close, feeling intoxicated by the floral-fruity smell she exuded.

"Your car is really nice," Lorelai murmured, settling further into his side. Dean glanced down at her, a somewhat smug smirk on his face, and tightened the arm he had around her in return before looking back up to the sky.

"Definitely a hell of a lot better than that plastic piece of crap you're renting," he agreed, and Lorelai hummed. "You said you've got a '65 Mustang at home?" He felt her shrug.

"Yes and no. I'm not home much, and home is an apartment in New York City, so I have it, but Damien houses it for me. He lives down in Florida." Her voice was wistful again, just like it had been the first time she'd told him, and Dean wondered if it was just the car or something else.

"I bet that thing's pretty nice," he commented hoping she'd open up on her own. So far, he hadn't been disappointed. Lorelai let out a low whistle.

"Yeah. My mom loved that car. She'd even drive it in the stupid little town parades when I was little. Jack… my dad… he was gonna get rid of it after she passed but Damien took it instead, kept it in good shape."

"How old were you when she died?" Dean asked, the pieces starting to come together to form a picture in his head. He could feel Lorelai's eyes on him for a moment, but he didn't give into the temptation to look back at her, not then.

"Five and a half," she finally said, and Dean thought he might have detected a hint of relief in her voice. It made him wonder if she'd felt the same way growing up, learning to hate the pity that found its way into everyone's voice once you started to reveal that your life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. He nodded.

"I was just under five," he admitted, "when I lost my mom." It wasn't something he usually opened up about, but it seemed fair, offering a piece of himself in exchange for the one she'd given him. A soft, bitter peel of laughter fell from her lips.

"Not exactly a connection I'd wish on anyone," she commented, and Dean snorted, finally letting himself look down at her. "So was it just you and your Dad growing up?" she asked, and Dean shook his head, ignoring the pang in his chest as he thought of Sammy, all the way away on the other side of the country.

"And my little brother, Sam. He's in college. Kid got a full ride to Stanford." Lorelai smiled at him, the moonlight making her dark eyes sparkle.

"That's great. You and your dad must be so proud of him. Were you guys close growing up?" He wasn't sure if she'd phrased the question that way intentionally, but he was grateful for it, and desperate to get off the subject.

"Yeah, really close. How about you? You got any family?" Lorelai snorted and turned to look up at the stars herself, rolling her eyes as she did.

"Oh yeah, I've got quite the motley crew. Two brothers, three sisters, two other brothers that passed away, a few nieces and nephews, a bunch of in-laws and extended family, and a goddaughter that might as well be mine." It was Dean's turn to let out a low whistle while looking at her with wide eyes. Sensing his attention, she turned her head back, a knowing smile on her face.

"Damn."

"I know," she nodded, "it's a lot. We're messy, and they drive me nuts, but there's a lot of love too. They're good people."

"Dad?" he asked hesitantly, realizing she'd mentioned him as Jack only a minute before but had left him out of the family rundown. Lorelai was shaking her head before he'd even totally finished getting the word out, a neutral expression on her face.

"Not in the picture. He was 'around' after my mom, but he's pretty much the biggest piece of shit I've ever met. He gave me up when I was fourteen, and let my aunt and uncle take me until I came of age. I last saw him about seven years ago, when I was working on getting custody of my little sister from him, and even before that it had been a few years."

They laid there for a few minutes in silence while Dean processed the information, and Lorelai seemed content to let him. The stars were out in droves and the sound of the falls in the distance made for nice white noise. At one point, Lorelai began mindlessly tracing shapes on his bicep, and without thinking, Dean turned into her, pulling her against him and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It was intimate, he realized afterwards, more intimate than probably made sense for the whole five days they'd known one another, but it had felt natural, and she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she seemed rather content and pressed herself closer.

"So, you've got a little sister and a goddaughter you take care of?" he eventually asked, wondering how it was that she could be here with him in Tullahoma, Tennessee if she did and she lived in New York City, but he felt the shake of her head rather quickly.

"Technically just my sister, Katie. She's twelve, and she started at a boarding school this year. She'll be home for the summer soon, but she's still there right now. And then my goddaughter, Julia, she just turned eight and lives with her dad in the apartment across the hall from me and Katie. Her mom walked out on them before Julia was even home from the hospital, though. I'm not really enough to fix it for either of them, but I know what it's like to grow up without a mom, or in Katie's case, without parents, so I do what I can. They're good kids."

"I get it," Dean said quietly, but he could tell from the way Lorelai stilled that she was listening carefully. "Sam's only four years younger than me, but he's always been my responsibility, you know? Our dad did his best, but I always tried to pick up the slack. It's not enough, but like you said, you just want to do whatever you can to make it a suck just a little bit less for them."

Lorelai sighed, her fingers resuming their light and lazy movements, and Dean couldn't help but think he'd be content to just lie there with her for the rest of his days.

"Hey Dean?" she asked softly a few minutes later, and he turned to meet her eyes, giving her a look to go on. She was biting her bottom lip, brow wrinkled slightly, as she took in a breath. It was odd seeing the anxiety playing across her features, given how cool and confident her demeanor had been thus far, and Dean was surprised to realize how endearing it was. "I'm really glad we did this tonight. I don't, uh, I wasn't expecting anything… but this has been really nice."

He smiled at her, bringing a hand up to cradle her face, and lowered his head to kiss her. It was different than the other times. This kiss wasn't the desperate, frenzied, X-rated making out they usually did, that quickly led to seeing who could get who out of their clothes and onto the bed the fastest. It was languid and deep, but no-less fire starting, and Lorelai still responded enthusiastically. He dipped his tongue past her lips, swirling it against hers, while their noses brushed, and she moved the hand from his arm to his face to mimic his actions. She shimmied up a bit, to make it easier on him, and rolled so she was halfway on top of him, and Dean splayed his free hand across her lower back, all without breaking away from her. He took his time tasting her, breathing her in, in a way he hadn't really done yet.

It was the kind of kiss he hadn't shared with anyone since Cassie, the kind he didn't normally allow himself, but damn if it didn't feel good.

Too soon, they paused, but Lorelai stayed right there, her face so close he could still feel her breath on his now wet lips, and he deliberately brushed his nose against hers as he held her, so her forehead lent against his

"Same here, Lor," he told her. "Been a long time since I got to enjoy myself like this." He determinedly ignored the voice that reminded him there was a reason he wasn't allowed to enjoy himself like this. That could be tomorrow Dean's problem, or maybe even next week Dean's.

He felt, rather than saw, her smile, and molded his mouth back to hers when she pressed her lips to his again. This time around things began to heat up, but still very differently from their previous couplings. It was more than lust, even if Dean still didn't know exactly how he felt about this odd girl that had stumbled into his life, and it was more powerful.

Later that night, when they eventually caved to their more primal instincts, their coupling was different too. Granted part of it, he was sure, was the change of setting - Lorelai seemed adventurous, but neither of them were about to completely strip down out in the open - but it was more than that. It was soft. There were longer, more sensual kisses that made him feel drunk. When she came, moaning his name, her walls convulsing around him while she buried her face in neck, it was enough to pull him over the edge with her, his release hitting him like an explosion and resonating differently than it normally did. The calm that washed over him after went deeper… felt heavier… and Dean found he liked it.

They settled back into one another after, opting to crack another beer before heading back to her cabin. Dean noticed the contented smile playing across her lips while she absently traced patterns on his chest and they pointed out different constellations to one another, and he found himself smiling along with her.

He still had no answers about what to do with the woman in his arms, and if anything the date had only served to heighten his fears that he was racing towards rocky shores that were sure to sink him, but for right then, Dean was content to enjoy the moment. If he'd learned anything, it was that moments were fleeting, and you had to take them as you could. He could figure out the rest later.