Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dudeimbatman) wrote2009-03-15 06:19 pm
dudeimbatman) wrote2009-03-15 06:19 pmEntry tags:
Kissing Meme
If you want to have your pup kiss mine, comment here! I'll write a drabble/short fiction makin' it happen!
dudeimbatman) wrote2009-03-15 06:19 pm
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Prepare to worship
“No,” Dean said, Lucas echoing the protest. It was probably the only thing they’d ever agreed on or ever would agree on.
“I bought you both in the auction. That means you have to do what I say,” Brooke told them.
“Yeah, but I thought you’d be making me fix rain gutters or work on your car,” Dean grumbled.
“I don’t have to make you do those things,” Brooke pointed out. “You break things around the house so you can fix them.”
“Brooke…” that was from Lucas. Dean shot him a dirty look that clearly said ‘what the fuck? That was your protest? Seriously?’
“What he means is what the fuck Brooke? Seriously?” Dean chimed in, still glaring at Lucas.
Brooke shot both of them looks that should have withered them; you know if Lucas hadn’t known her forever and Dean wasn’t…well Dean. “What I want is for my best friend and my boyfriend to kiss and make up.”
“Dude…if this is about the other night when I called him a-“
Brooke stopped his words with a raised eyebrow and tilt of her chin.
“I’llsayI’msorry,” Dean said in a rush, trying to get the words in there before Brooke smacked him upside the head.
“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry,” Brooke reminded him. “Kiss. Make Up. Now.” She’d learned sometimes you had to use short, direct words spoken in the form of an order to get Dean to cooperate.
It was quite possibly the quickest kiss ever. It was Dean Winchester’s lips barely brushing Lucas Scott’s. Before Brooke could protest (or implode from the effort of not laughing) Dean stormed off toward the Impala where he kept his whiskey. The words coming out of his mouth would have made Castiel red with shame.
“Okay…so that was funny,” Lucas smirked. “Do I want to know what he said about me?”
“Which time?” Brooke could barely get the words out for laughing so hard.
Re: Prepare to worship
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By now he should probably be used to it. He should probably even expect it but he never does. He comes home broken and hating himself. He’s not fit for human company when he walks through that door, bottle of whiskey in hand. He gives her an out—every time—greeting her and then walking on through to the back yard to take a seat on the steps out there. He never expects her to show up because he doesn’t want to be around himself. Why the fuck would she want to be?
But she surprises him.
She slips her arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek, just catching the corner of his mouth. He can smell the waxy lipstick, almost feel it on his skin and he’s begging for her to kiss him again. But he doesn’t expect it.
She surprises him.
Moving to crouch in front of him, her forearms along his thighs, fingers resting at his waistband and face tilted up to his. She only has to move a little, kissing him softly on the lips. When he doesn’t pull away she moves up into the kiss a little more, one hand sliding up his side to the back of his neck so that her fingers can creep into the hair there.
“I love you,” she whispers when the kiss breaks.
She surprises him.
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Poor Dean.
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