[Flashback; Sam's First (Unofficial) Meeting]

[veneficusvenato]

Time: Back Then
Location: Dean's Flat
People: Jo, Sam (Maybe Dean)





The front door is open, because the late spring breeze is nice.

And Jo is laying on the couch, pulling a curl absently, while reading.

Comments

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"And the most modest, too." Dean curls his fingers at the nape of her neck, grinning, all the more for her offended expression, and settles his other hand against her ass. "You're lucky I can look past all that."

[veneficusvenato]

"It's so generous of you." Her smirk only widens when his hands settle, especially the lower one. "You know, if I could be wrong, too, but I do not believe this is how you prove to me you can cook lasagna."

Though a good half of her thinks encouraging him to go do anything that is not staring at her like that, touching her at all, is tantamount to insanity. She should be able to subsist on just this.


Who is she kidding. Whatever it takes to truly live. Is made of up of this.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"I have proved," Dean says, and kisses her, "the lasagne thing," kisses, "a million times. You can't guilt me," kisses, "into letting go of you," kisses, "just by being hungry."

Kisses.

"So there."


God, he loves her.

[veneficusvenato]

How is she ever supposed to think, want to think.

When his mouth keeps. And her spine is melting.
And she's leaning in to him, hands along his side.

"What if I am--" she finally manages, pulling back.
Only barely, before leaning down. In. To kiss his neck.

Then, again, slowly. Perfectly here -- no, perfectly hers.
How she missed the taste of his skin this much? "-but not for food?"