😴 “Are you kidding me? I’m going to bed.” - requested by @onthepageoftears
As the clock struck midnight, it was like a bomb had gone off in the bunker. Not a real bomb, though that had happened before. Everyone was just yelling so loudly that Kat flinched at the noise.
Dean was banging his empty glass on the library table, while Charlie and Jo were holding out high-pitched whoops that would put any sorority girl to shame. It looked like they were competing to see who could hold it the longest. Even louder was Sam, who had somehow ended up the drunkest of all of them, despite his high tolerance and “social reservations.” Jack was gleefully blowing the party horn that Dean had given him as a joke, while Castiel was waving a party crank over his head. Impossibly powerful cosmic beings wielding little toys to celebrate the rock’s circle around the sun. It was hard to say which one of them looked more ridiculous.
Kat lifted her glass to the ceiling and downed her cheap champagne. She’d barely swallowed before Dean was pulling her in for a midnight kiss. She blindly dropped her glass on the table so she could grab his face, and grudgingly let him spin her into a dip. On the other side of the room, Sam, Charlie and Jo all whistled and cat called.
When she was finally upright, Kat clutched her head in an effort to stop the world from spinning. “Okay—ow. That’s enough of that.”
“Oh, come on,” cheered Dean. “Is that any way to ring in the new year? Who wants another drink?”
Sam and the girls cheered again, and Jack raised his hand as if they were sitting in a classroom. Castiel gently tugged it down.
“No, Jack. I think you’ve had enough.”
“Me too,” said Kat, shaking her head. “Time for bed kiddo.”
“Pfft,” Dean scoffed. “The kid barely sleeps anyway. He’s stayed up way longer on hunts.”
“Yeah!” agreed Jack. He tried to imitate Dean’s “pfft,” but only ended up blowing a raspberry and dribbling spit onto his T-shit. Castiel sighed heavily.
“On hunts, you’re not usually inebriated.”
“Yeah, I’m calling time,” said Kat.
She waved a hand in the air, and Jack grudgingly got to his feet—though not without grumbling about how he was a powerful Nephilim and shouldn’t need a bedtime. His first few steps led him to sway on the spot, and Cas had to jump up to steady him. Together, they made their way out of the library.
Kat fixed Dean with a stern glare. “How much did you give him?”
“Hey, don’t look at me.”
Across the room, Jo was ducking behind Charlie, who quickly ducked behind Sam, who could only smile sheepishly.
“Uh—in their defense, he is the son of Lucifer. His tolerance should be pretty high.”
“His tolerance is pretty high,” Kat said sourly. “That’s why I’m worried.”
“Okay—so—so don’t be mad,” said Charlie, peeking out from under Sam’s arm, “but I think some of the wine in your store room might like maybe be like a little bit enchanted with some kind of spell?”
“You drugged Jack with magic wine?”
“We didn’t know! There were all these runes and—”
“There were runes?”
“I thought it was Russian!”
“You know? Okay,” Kat scoffed, swallowing her rage. “Okay, I—I am done with this. I am going to go make sure Jack doesn’t puke up his liver at the start of the new year.”
“No, no, no!” Dean whined like a child, grabbing Kat’s arm to prevent her from leaving the room. “It’s just potent stuff, right? The kid’s survived worse. Plus, he’s got Cas, so nothing’s gonna happen to him. And with the angel on babysitting duty, the rest of us can keep the party going!”
“Excuse me?”
“Well we gotta bring in the new year right, right? Let’s go for a walk, or watch a movie, or—or play that board game Sam’s been dying to try out!”
“Are you kidding me?” Kat laughed. “No. I’m going to bed.”
She kissed him on the cheek and brushed past him, ignoring the disappointed groans of the idiots she called her friends and family.
“Party pooper!” Jo accused from behind her back, and Kat held up her middle finger.
“Enjoy your hangovers, assholes. And if I find a fleck of vomit tomorrow, no one is getting breakfast—or getting laid.”
She hopped down the steps and headed for her bedroom with a smirk, listening to the chaos as Dean tried to shut down the party behind her.
18. kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap
Dean Winchester was unbearable at the best of times. When he was sick, it was worse. But injured and out of commission? It would be a miracle if Kat could stop herself from punching a hole in Bobby’s wall.
“This blows,” he grumbled from his seat in the armchair. His right leg was done up in a cast up to his knee, propped up on a stool while he sat in front of the television. “If I have to watch one more procedural cop show, I’m gonna blow my brains out.”
“Have you considered—I don’t know—changing the channel?” Kat bit from her spot in the kitchen.
“Well I would if this remote wasn’t so shitty. Gotta jam the button like six times before anything fucking works. You sure you changed the batteries on this?”
“Yes, Dean. I changed them yesterday.”
“I don’t know. You sure?”
“Yes, Dean,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “I am sure I changed them yesterday.”
“Whatever. Even if I could change the damn channel, there’s nothing good on. News, cop shows, that shitty cartoon reboot that’s always running on Cartoon Network. Whatever happened to Scooby Doo, you know?”
Kat chose not to respond. They’d had this exact conversation the day before, and she was not going to get roped into it again. She’d stab herself with the butter knife before listening to Dean’s synopsis of his favorite twenty episodes of Scooby Doo again. For the moment, she reserved the knife for the peanut butter sandwich she was making.
“If I’m gonna be stuck here, Bobby could at least get better cable,” Dean complained. “There’s not even any decent soaps on. Days of Our Lives, Young and the Restless, General Hospital, Dr. Sexy…”
“Oh, so you admit that Dr. Sexy is a soap?”
“What? No! No, I just meant…you know, jumping off the General Hospital idea, I thought…”
“Save it,” she snorted, carrying his PBJ and chips in on a plate. “We all know your taste in media is questionable at best.”
“Excuse me?” he spat, glaring up at her. “Take that fucking back.”
“One word, Dean. Hentai.”
She dropped the plate of food into his lap and plopped down on the couch.
“Man,” Dean groaned, forgoing the argument to stare longingly at the TV. “I wish Bobby had better porn channels. I wonder if he’s got tapes somewhere around here…”
“Oh no. Fuck no. Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Dean chuckled through a mouth of peanut butter. “A man’s a man. Bet he’s got a stash somewhere in the library. Maybe the panic room.”
“Dean, I’m not letting you watch porn in Bobby’s living room.”
“Please? Probably the most action I’m gonna get with this thing crushing my leg.”
He pouted down at his cast, and Kat rolled her eyes.
“Trust me, if anyone could figure out how to have sex when they’re immobilized on bed rest, I’m sure it’d be Dean Winchester.”
“That a challenge?” he asked with a smirk.
“No.”
Dean laughed, the armchair squeaking as he threw his head back. He picked up his plate, holding it out of the way and patting his legs. He beckoned her closer. Kat just raised her eyebrows.
“Come here,” he sighed. “No funny business, I promise. I’m just bored out of my mind.”
Kat knew better than to trust a Winchester, but she obliged. Delicately as she could, she draped herself across Dean’s lap, her legs kicked over the side and her shoulder leaning into his chest. It was hard to hide a smile as his arm wrapped around her waist. She plucked one of the chips from his plate and laughed at his grumpy huff.
“Price to pay for my company,” she said with a wink.
“Yeah, whatever. See if you have any more luck with the remote.”
It was nice. A quiet afternoon at Bobby’s, splitting a sandwich and watching TV. Kat was able to find a channel playing Die Hard, which Dean accepted without much complaint. It had commercials, sure, but it was better than listening to the 300th episode of SVU for the day.
She was chuckling at a Geico commercial when she felt Dean nose her hair out of the way. His breath tickled her neck, making her squirm. It was impossible to hide when she was sitting in his lap. Dean smirked against her skin.
“Knock it off,” she grumbled, elbowing him gently in the stomach. “No funny business, remember?”
“Can’t help it,” he mumbled. “A man’s a man.”
His nose trailed up to her chin, and she was turning to face him before he brought his hand up to her cheek. He kissed her gently, a thumb tracing her jaw. It always seemed to surprise her how soft he was. Dean made it so easy to forget everything else.
It was wonderful, but short lived.
A sharp whistle sent them jumping apart. Kat scrambled out of the armchair, under fire from Bobby’s stern glare.
“Can’t leave you two alone for a minute,” he growled. “That’s my damn chair, you know.”
Kat mumbled an apology while Dean rolled his eyes.
“Come on, Bobby. Little more than a minute. What, were you getting enough food to feed an army?”
“Had to if I’m gonna feed your ungrateful ass. Mind giving me some help, Kat?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you got it.”
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and went to follow Bobby out to the truck. But not before Dean swatted her ass.
Kat flipped him off and hurried from the room. Maybe she’d stab him with the butter knife instead.
( you totally can ignore this one if you don’t feel like doing it ) 11 for kat and ryder :))))
11. when one stops the kiss to whisper, “i’m sorry, are you sure you - ?” and they answer by kissing them more
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH FROM THESE FINE BI BITCHES
p.s. why do i always insist on writing from ryder’s pov? who’s to say?
“Motherfucking vampires.”
Ryder yanked her machete out of a tree trunk, looking disparagingly down at the decapitated head of the last vamp. She suppressed the overwhelming urge to kick it. These boots were new. And expensive. She didn’t need any excess blood on them.
She surveyed the scene—ten bodies, eight or so heads. One or two of them must’ve rolled into the bushes or off the bank into the lake. It wasn’t the heads that concerned her. It was the lack of blonde hair.
“Kat?” she called, looking around the lifeless clearing. “Kat, you okay?”
There was a splash, and Ryder had her blade ready before she heard the spluttering cough.
“Bleh! Y-Yeah, I’m good. Fuck it’s cold.”
Ryder strode down the dock, not bothering to hide her laughter as Kat struggled to push her wet hair into place.
“Wow. Nothing I love more than a case that ends in a wet T-shirt contest.”
“Shut up,” Kat grumbled. She spat out a spout of lake water, wading her way to shore. “All I want to do is get back to the hotel, take a shower, and—ah, shit!”
She hissed in pain as she tried to haul her body onto the dock. Her arms buckled beneath her, and she sploshed back into the water.
“Are you okay?” Ryder demanded, all trace of humor gone. “Did one of them get you?”
“No, no. I think I just twisted my arm when I fell in. A little help?”
Ryder hurried forward, dropping her machete so she could grab Kat’s good arm. She heaved her up, trying to get another arm round her shoulders. She didn’t even see Kat’s hand as she grabbed the back of the other girl’s shirt.
SPLASH!
Kat had been telling the truth about one thing. It was fucking cold. Ryder practically screamed as she resurfaced. Her teeth were already chattering as she blinked the water out of her eyes. And all the while, Kat was laughing her ass off.
“Y-Y-You b-bitch!” Ryder stammered, sending a wave of water Kat’s way. “What the fuck w-was that for?”
“Laughing at me,” said Kat gleefully. “Maybe you should stop making fun of me on every hunt.”
“Oh y-yeah? Well who’s laughing now?”
Ryder’s glare did nothing to stop Kat’s giggles. Neither did the additional splash she sent her way. The water wasn’t too deep—just enough to submerge their shoulders. That meant it wasn’t too hard to push off and grab Kat by the neck.
The kiss wasn’t smooth. It was chattering teeth and surprised lips and wet skin. They slipped on the slimy rocks of the lake bottom, nearly toppling over into the water again.
Kat gasped, and the sound was enough to rocket Ryder back into reality. This was Kat. Sweet, damaged Kat who barely tolerated her flirting, let alone her real advances. She hadn’t even fucking asked.
Ryder ripped her hands out of Kat’s hair, panting.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I—I shouldn’t have done that. Are you sure you…?”
This time it was Kat that grabbed her. The force nearly dunked them into the water again. Then Kat’s legs were finding their way around Ryder’s waist, keeping her afloat as Ryder pushed her back against the pillar of the dock. Kat moaned into the kiss, making her smirk. Kat must’ve felt it, because she yanked on Ryder’s hair in retaliation. Ryder moaned and grabbed Kat’s ass in response. Kat bucked her hips, and they nearly fell over again.
“No, fuck this,” Ryder spluttered, spitting out water and pulling back from the kiss. “This is even more complicated than shower sex. Can we go back to the motel now?”
Kat laughed. Ryder was almost mesmerized by her smile, her cheeks flushed pink under a streak or two of red vampire blood. She was gorgeous.
“Yeah,” Kat agreed. She pushed a few dark locks of hair out of Ryder’s eyes. “Yeah, we can go back to the motel now.”
Dean jolted awake, swinging on instinct. Kat caught the fist in an instant, and pinned his arms against his chest until he’d blinked the nightmare away from his eyes.
“Kat. Fuck, I...sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She helped him sit up. Dean’s instinct told him to shirk away, but it didn’t faze her in the slightest. She pulled her hands back and twisted on the small bed. It was all that would fit in the tiny apartment they’d gotten, but more comfortable than anything he’d ever slept on. They’d only been living there a few weeks, completely hunt free, and Dean was happy. Usually. But the wound of losing Sam to the pit was still fresh.
The sheets knotting around Kat’s legs as she turned to face him. “You wanna talk about it? Or you wanna talk about something else?”
“Do we have to talk at all?” he asked gruffly. “Why can’t we just...have sex until I pass out again?”
“Not on the table.”
Kat smirked at him, and with whatever God given power she had, Dean felt the tension seeping out of his chest. His lips pulled into a grudging smile, and he stretched his legs out to nudge her knee.
“Damn. Are you sure? Cause these nightmares I’ve been having, they...they can make me kinda horny. Like, really horny.”
“Dean,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he sighed, grabbing her hand. “Yeah, I know.”
She crawled into his lap, and his practiced hands fell to her waist as she cupped his face. She didn’t have to force him to look at her.
“Hey. You’re gonna get through this, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
“I know,” he sighed, knowing it was a lie. But he had a beautiful girl straddling his hips, and he didn’t want her to worry. That would be the only thing worse than the nightmares.
Kat pressed her lips to his. Her nails scratched gently at his scalp, and he would blame instinct again for the way his hands tightened on her waist. A pathetic noise scratched its way from his throat, morphing into a groan as Kat pulled away from him. Her smirk shone through her disapproval.
“Dean...”
“Hey, I’m not gonna apologize. You’re hot.”
“Go to sleep,” she ordered, and climbed off of him before he could stop her.
Dean grumbled his complaints, but let it lie for the night. He flopped down on his back and was immediately forced on his side. Kat’s arm snaked its way around his chest, her legs cradling his and her face pressed against his back. She pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, and judging by her breath, fell asleep pretty soon after that.
“Is this all really necessary?” Crowley bristled, looking disparagingly at the devil’s trap on the floor. “You could’ve given me some elbow room, at least.”
“I need information,” Kat said flatly. “You’re gonna give it to me.”
“Well, that’s a tad presumptuous, Kitten. You realize I deal in bargains, don’t you? What exactly am I getting out of this little rendezvous?”
“You get to go back into hiding. Don’t talk, I exorcise your ass straight into Lucifer’s arms.”
“Lovely.” Crowley’s sigh was full of annoyance. “You know, you might be one of my least favorite people to deal with, Ms. Moore.”
“Angel blades,” she commanded. “What do you know about them?”
“Not much,” he said with a shrug. “Triple-edged toothpicks your feathery friends like to carry around. Kill most things, more than that dagger your boyfriend’s so protective of.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know. You might’ve caught that by the way I said ‘most things’ and nothing after that. Why aren’t you asking your…other boyfriend about this?”
Kat’s face remained passive. Unfortunately, it was more telling than anything else could have been. Crowley’s face split into a wide grin.
“Unless they don’t know you’re here? Ooh no, Kitten. You haven’t gone rogue have you?”
“What else do you know?” Kat demanded, ignoring his question.
“Nothing,” Crowley insisted. “I’m a crossroad demon, darling. What did you think I’d have to say?”
“I think you’d say anything to get out of here as fast as possible, whether or not it’s true.”
“Then why the Hell would you bother summoning me?” he yelled. “You hunters are all the same. Phone a friend and don’t bother trusting them. It’s only convenient when we say what you want to hear, isn’t that - FUCK!”
Kat’s fist collided with his face, hard. There was no room for him to recoil inside the small devil’s trap, so the full force of her swing pounded into his nose. The blood quickly dripped down onto his black suit, and his eyes briefly flashed the same dark red.
“You broke my nose!”
“I’ll break more than that next time,” she threatened. “I want all the information you can get. An angel blade if you can get one.”
“And how do you suppose I do that?”
“You’re King of the Crossroads,” Kat spat. She scratched the line of the trap and turned her back on him. “Deal with it.”
“You know ‘give me a warning’ means let me know BEFORE they come in here!” Kat x Dean & Cas!!!
It wasn’t often that Dean Winchester woke up disoriented. It was hard to, once you got used to waking up in a different place every day. Half the time he was in the Impala, the other half it was some shitty motel bed. He’d even gotten used to waking up with a stranger’s body wrapped around him. But there was something different about it this morning. He couldn’t remember sleeping in a bed quite this comfortable.
Dean opened his eyes, doing a quick scan of the room. It took a minute to place - the good furniture, the books, framed pictures up on the wall. The body next to him sighed, and his lips twitched up into a smile.
Kat.
He chanced a glance over at her, trying not to move too much. But she was still sleeping soundly, curled up against his side. Her eyes were still a little red from crying the night before, but at least her breathing was even now, her face relaxed. She had one hand balled up on his chest, loosely gripping his shirt, and one of her legs had snaked around his in the middle of the night. Somehow, he found he didn’t mind.
This was a really bad idea.
Dean knew that. Oh boy, did he know that. And at the same time, he couldn’t find the strength to move. He was always moving - one hunt to the next, one seal to the next, hunt after hunt. After he and Sam had split up after River Pass, he was back to doing all of it alone. And though he was loathe to admit it, he hated being alone.
Kat wriggled in her sleep, one hand dragging over her face. She hummed slightly, and then pressed her head into his shoulder.
He was on thin ice. But he smiled anyway.
Deciding it would be safer to put a little distance between them, he mustered up the strength to shift away from her. He lifted his head, and immediately let out a yelp of surprise.
“Jesus Christ!”
Kat jerked awake, and they scrambled away from each other, both gaping at the end of the bed where Castiel was standing silently.
“Um…good morning.”
“Damnit, Cas,” Dean grumbled, clutching at his chest. “We talked about this, man! Personal space?”
Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand. I’m not standing…”
“It not just a physical thing, dude! I mean privacy. You know, ‘give me a warning’ means let me know before you come in here!”
“I apologize.”
Dean sighed, glancing over at Kat. “You alright?”
“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah.” She straightened her shirt, tugged down her sleep shorts, anything to avoid his eyes. “I think I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
“Kat…”
But she was already hurrying out the door, and disappearing down the hall of her apartment.
Dean pursed his lips, turning to glare at the angel. Castiel, at the very least, had the decency to look bashful.
“I’m sorry. I…didn’t realize I would be interrupting.”
“You zapped in here, saw us sleeping and didn’t think that you’d be interrupting?”
“I wasn’t sure if that would matter.”
“Cas, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I…” The angel hesitated, and finally let out a labored sigh. “You weren’t engaged in sexual relations.”
Dean balked. “Oh what, so now I have to have my drawers off before you think twice about coming in?”
He could have laughed at the way Cas squinted at him.
“Your drawers have nothing to do with why I’m here.”
“Yeah, well, thank God for that.”
“I need your help.”
“With what?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow. “The hunt for God? Yeah, not interested.”
“It’s not God. It’s someone else.”
“Who?”
“It’s an archangel,” said Castiel as he looked idly around the room. He picked up a small teddy bear that sat on Kat’s desk, inspecting it with mild interest. “The one who killed me.”
“Excuse me?”
“His name is Raphael.”
Dean rubbed his chin, doing his best not to smirk. “You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?”
Castiel narrowed his eyes at the lost reference, replacing the stuffed animal. “I’ve heard whispers that he’s walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity.”
“For what? Revenge?”
“Information.”
Dean didn’t bother to hide his scoff. He walked past Cas, picking his duffel off the floor and rummaging for a clean shirt. “So what, you think you can find this dude and he’s just gonna spill God’s address?”
“Yes. Because we are going to trap and interrogate him.”
His tone made Dean pause. He looked over at the angel - scrappy, scruffy maybe. But the look in his eyes was even and lethal.
“You’re serious about this?” Dean asked.
Castiel nodded. “Yes.”
“So what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”
Of course, this had little to no affect on Castiel. He watched Dean blankly, until the hunter finally sighed. In the next room, he heard the water turn off in the shower.
“Give me one good reason I should do this.”
“Because you’re Michael’s vessel, and no angel will dare harm you.”
“Oh, so I’m your bullet shield?”
Castiel turned to Dean, his lips pressed into a thin line. His mouth might have been hard, but the look on his face had softened just slightly.
“I need your help because you are the only one who’ll help me. Please.”
They stood at a stand off, each considering the other. Until finally, a small cough broke the silence.
Dean glanced at the door, and would have done a double take if his eyes hadn’t immediately glued themselves to Kat’s body. She was clutching her towel for all she was worth, wet blonde hair sticking to her shoulders, half hidden behind the doorframe.
“Sorry to interrupt, but uh…can I get some clothes?”
“Yeah. Yeah, uh…” he rubbed a hand down his face, suddenly regretting his decision to sleep in his boxers. “Come on, buddy. We’ll talk out there.”
He steered Castiel through the door, doing his best to avert his eyes. It became a lot easier when he realized that Cas was doing the exact opposite. The angel stared at Kat’s skin, and unless Dean’s vision was starting to blur, he could swear that Cas was blushing.
Dean snorted, pushing Castiel’s head forward. “Eyes front, soldier.”
They’d known it was going to be a trap. They weren’t idiots. They chose to act like they were, because - really - what choice did they have? If they didn’t go inside, they might live, but the demons would slaughter those hostages without blinking an eye. If they did…well, the hostages might still die, but at least the two of them would have a clear conscience.
“You set on the plan?” Dean asked, checking the magazine in his gun.
Kat resisted the urge to tell him that, yes, after two hours of planning and going through it seventeen different times, she was pretty sure she knew what she was doing. She’d gotten used to working solo, but he was used to being a leader. He was just doing the job.
So she nodded curtly, letting him take the lead as he slammed the trunk of the Impala closed.
“Alright. Then let’s get to work.”
The bar the demons were holed up in only had two entrances, which left them with limited options. They’d cased the building briefly, but hadn’t found anything all that helpful. None of the windows were well-situated for entry. It was probably one of the reasons they’d chosen this building in the first place.
Dean strolled through the front of the bar, throwing the doors wide open with a smile. His eyes immediately counted the bodies in front of him. Ten total - seven hostages and three demons judging by body language. Of course, they could always be faking. Wouldn’t be the first time. But that was a problem for later.
“Hi,” he said causally, waving to the brunette who’d led them here. “Sorry I’m a little late. Thought I’d stop for a last meal and all that. You know the quality of Chopper’s burgers has really gone downhill in the past couple years. I’m surprised they haven’t gone out of business yet.”
The demon didn’t seem amused by his small talk.
“Where’s the girl?” she demanded.
Dean dropped the act, turning stony. “Not here. You wanted me to come, here I am. Fair trade. You get Michael’s vessel, and the hostages get gone. That’s the deal.”
The girl considered him for a moment, tilting her head back and forth. Then she shrugged, and waved a hand to one of her bitches. The other two demons started for the hostages, and Dean tensed for a moment. But they simply dragged the patrons to their feet, pushing them out the door.
When the last frightened customer had finally run panting into the street, the girl smiled at him. Dean held his ground as she approached, even when she tugged playfully on the edges of his jacket.
“You know, I can’t see why the angels see so much in you, Winchester,” she mused. “You’re a sinner just like the rest of us.”
“Oh sweetheart, you don’t know the half of it.”
She laughed, prodding his chest with a sharp nail. “You are funny, though. And I’ll tell you, there’s one thing God and I have in common. We don’t like liars.”
He didn’t even have to look up. But he did.
Two more demons entered the room from the back, dragging Kat’s struggling form with them. She kicked and grunted, but didn’t have any luck breaking free. Luck seemed to be something they were running pretty short on.
Dean must have looked worried, because the ringleader laughed again. “You see, Dean? I’m reasonable. Who needs a bunch of rando hostages when I’ve got your pretty little girlfriend right here for leverage?”
“She’s not really my girlfriend,” he offered, trying to keep his voice casual. “I mean, no disrespect, Kit Kat, just - Are we exclusive? Have we talked about that?”
“Can you shut the hell up?” she grunted, still trying to wriggle free.
“Sorry. You’re busy. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Enough chit chat,” the demon cut in. “Now, you’re gonna do everything I ask real easy, Dean, or we’re gonna slice Barbie’s skin off nice and slow. Are you’re gonna start by unloading that gun you’ve got tucked in your pants.”
“You scared of a couple bullets, sweetheart?”
“They smart,” she said evenly. “Now, Winchester, or we’ll start with her fingers.”
Dean hesitated, turning to look at Kat across from him. She was still fighting, but the demon holding her was about twice her size. He was solid, one arm around wrapped around her throat. He was poised to break her neck, but Dean knew that he wouldn’t. You couldn’t torture a dead hostage.
Kat gripped the demon’s arm, kicking her feet out from under herself and writhing. But the guard was solid, and didn’t budge and inch.
“Can someone please shoot him?” she groaned, glaring pointedly at Dean.
He deflated, and after a moment, clicked the magazine free. He held the two parts up to see, and then placed them on the ground at his feet.
The woman smiled. “Good boy. And now the knife.”
Dean blanched. “Sor-…uh, what?”
“I’m not an idiot, Dean. The knife you got off the traitorous whore. Hand it over.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Don’t lie to me again, Winchester.”
“No, see, that one wasn’t actually a lie,” he said with a grin. “Cause I don’t have the knife. She does.”
There wasn’t enough time for them to react.
Kat kicked her feet up again, and because her captor was holding her steady, she was able to use one arm to grab Ruby’s knife out of her boot. It sliced down the demon’s forearm, making him recoil, and then she was free. She spun around, swiping the blade across his throat in one motion and slamming it into another demon’s chest in the next.
There was nothing Dean wanted more than to sit back and watch her work, but there were three other demons to take care of. He pulled his flask from his jacket, splashing the woman in front of him with holy water and listening with satisfaction as she screamed. It was enough to give him the jump on her, and he threw her across the bar.
The fight was barely three minutes. It was all swinging arms and flying hair, both of them acting on instinct rather than strategy. And then it was over, Kat and Dean standing over the five bodies and barely allowing themselves to believe it. Maybe they weren’t completely out of luck just yet.
Dean ran a thumb over his split lip, looking around with a satisfied nod. “Nice work. The ‘shoot him’ signal wasn’t a half bad idea.”
“Thanks,” said Kat, returning the gesture. She tossed the knife back to him. “Not bad yourself. Granted you still can’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Um, excuse me? I was the distraction. Keeping my mouth open was the whole point.” He paused, wrinkling his nose. “That sounded nasty.”
“Come on,” she sighed. “We should scram before one of those people calls the cops.”
“Whatever you say, girlfriend.”
Kat gave him a stern look, and led the way out of the bar. Dean shrugged. Apparently they were not going to talk about that later.
—
tagging @httpscoot because I feel like I should at this point <3
"I will rip your throat out and paint baby in your blood." Dean x Kat!
[ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 ]
Kat was on edge. It had been a few weeks since she’d told the Winchesters about her pranks. Sam had gotten his revenge a few days later on their rawhead hunt, but that hadn’t been so bad. Sure, it had taken her three showers to get all of the remains off of her, but it still could have been worse. Weeks later, she was still living and breathing normally. Dean had yet to retaliate.
She knew that the wait was part of the prank. He was getting her riled up, enjoying every suspicious look she gave him, every anxious bag check, every jumpy response to his questions. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how nervous he was making her, but at the same time, she didn’t want to let her guard down. The moment she did, she knew he would strike.
So ‘constant vigilance’ was the name of the game. Kat refused all the drinks he offered her, only ate take out if Sam was the one who brought it back to the motel. Her laundry was kept under lock and key, just in case Dean decided to get creative with her delicates. And every time she glared at him, he smiled back as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
It was a month and a half before anything happened.
They were just wrapping up another hunt - a nest of vampires outside of Philly. Each of them were battered and bruised, shirts soaked in blood from a night of beheading. So they returned to the hotel to shower and change, and hopefully get one good night of sleep before they headed out the next morning.
Kat bid them goodnight, heading back to her room and sifting through her bag for some clean clothes. But before she could make it to the bathroom, her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cindy? It’s Greg.”
“Uh, sorry, buddy. I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Oh, uh, sorry!”
Kat hung up the phone. She tossed it onto her pillow, where it immediately began vibrating again. She groaned, looking longingly at the shower, but picked it up regardless.
“Hello?”
“Cindy? It’s Greg!”
“Hey, Greg. Still not Cindy.”
“What? No this - this is definitely the number she gave me. I made sure this time.”
Kat wanted to snap at him, but the poor guy sounded so heartbroken that she didn’t have it in her. “I’m sorry, man. Maybe she made a typo?”
“Ha, right. Well, thanks anyway.”
“Sure thing.”
She hung up, and sighed in relief. Part of her felt bad, but on the other hand, she was relieved Cindy had succeeded in dodging the guy. Whoever the hell Cindy was.
This time she made it all the way into the bathroom. The shower was running, her clean clothes were folded on the toilet, and her cell phone was going off again.
Kat accepted the call with a glare. “Greg, we’ve been through this. Please stop calling this number.”
“Greg?” replied an unfamiliar voice. This one did not sound heartbroken. This one sounded mad. “Who the fuck is Greg, bitch? I you gave me this number to…”
She disconnected the call. Before she could even put the phone down, it went off again. One text, two texts, three texts. Some of them were just ‘hey there’ or ‘Cindy? This is whoever the hell.’ Some of them had picture files, which she had no plans on opening. And some of them were a lot longer, with a lot of words she wished she’d never seen.
The next time her phone rang, she picked it up on the first ring.
“Please tell me you’re not looking for Cindy.”
“Oh, uh…yeah. Is she not home?”
“How the hell did you get this phone number?”
“Um…well Cindy gave it to me.”
“Who the fuck is Cindy?”
“Just - Just a girl! Blonde, hot, self-defense instructor. I met her online! Or, I thought I did.”
Kat froze. Her mind was flipping into overdrive, and she glared daggers at her reflection in the mirror.
“What website?”
Two minutes later she was marching down the hall, pounding on the Winchesters’ door with fury and determination. She shoved a bewildered Sam out of the way, glowering at Dean as he sat at the table in the corner. He had his feet propped on the table, his computer in his lap, and smirk about ten miles wide.
“Give it to me,” she growled, making him cock an eyebrow.
“Anytime, darling. What’s got into you?”
“You piece of shit! What the fuck did you do, you motherfucker?”
He laughed and held up his hand as she lunged, letting her snatch the laptop from him. And even though she knew what was coming, she was still a little surprised to see her own face staring back at her.
It was a dating profile. And though the name up top said “Cindy Aframian, 29,″ almost all of the pictures were of Kat. She had no idea how Dean had gotten them. Some of them looked like they were from her Facebook page, some looked as though he must have taken them himself. And one or two of them were clearly racy pictures he’d gotten by cropping out the faces of underwear models.
“Gross, dude,” said Sam, peering over her shoulder at the screen.
Dean simply shrugged, still looking pleased with himself. “You have to give the people what they want. So I had to get a little creative.”
Kat was too angry to respond. Her eyes flicked over the page, noting the twenty ongoing conversations where Dean had been handing out the number to her burner phone. They weren’t short conversations either. Clearly, he’d been working on catfishing some of these guys for weeks.
She clicked on “her” profile.
Cindy Aframian, 29
Scorpio, 5′7″, fitness instructor. Wine in the sun, and tequila in the dark. Looking for something to break the routine. Sucker for a good pick up line. Promise. ;)
She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch someone. Specifically Dean. But her knuckles just turned white on the laptop, staring blankly at the screen.
Dean took her silence as confirmation that he’d hit a nerve. He kicked his feet off the table, leaning forward on his knees with a smirk.
“You mentioned that you spent months collecting cassette tapes so you could pull that prank on my Baby. And I got to thinking - God. If the girl’s got that much time on her hands, when is the last time she got laid? So I figured I’d give you a push in the right direction. No need to thank me.”
Kat did not respond. She wasn’t even clicking on the screen anymore. She just sat on the edge of the motel bed, staring down at the dating profile, and watching the number of notifications rise as more and more people clicked on the profile.
Dean’s composure slipped ever so slightly when he did not receive a reaction. He glanced up at Sam, who was watching with smug satisfaction. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was more about Kat’s reaction than Dean’s brilliant plan.
“I gotta say, there are a lot of creeps out there,” he continued. “I can see why you wouldn’t put that much time into it. I mean, some of the messages you got…wow. You clearly aran’t the only one with too much time on your hands. Ha ha…”
She finally raised her eyes to meet his - empty gray glaring into suddenly hesitant green. Her phone was still going off at her side, texts pouring in.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“It should die down in a couple of days. And now you know not to mess with my music - or my Baby.”
After a few tense seconds, Kat carefully closed the laptop. She pushed it into his chest, leaning forward and making every word very clear.
“I will rip out your throat, and paint Baby in your blood.”
Dean gulped.
Kat stood up, her hands twitching at her sides as she forced herself to walk to the door. “Delete it. And you owe me a new burner phone.”
She slammed the door behind her, leaving the Winchesters in heavy silence, and relieved that they hadn’t received much, much worse.
Dean fidgeted in his chair, glancing at his brother. “Too far?”
“You think?” Sam scoffed. “Dude, you’re lucky she didn’t skin you.”
“Close call.” He shifted again, unable to stop himself from licking his lips. “It was kinda hot though.”
Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised. He just let out a disgusted, long-suffering sigh.
