No Matter How Long
No Matter How Long
Wordcount: 438
Rating: umm, PG...I guess
Pairing: Dean/OFC (Mac)
Feedback: oh hell yea!
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean *damnit*
Author's Note: there is basically NO point to this, it barely qualifies as a drabble let alone anything else (seriously, it's LESS than 500 words) but considering I haven't been able to write ANYTHING in almost SIX MONTHS I wasn't going to refuse my muse when it came up with this out of no where not connected to anything scene
***
“I have beer!” she called, kicking the door shut behind her, finally getting home from work.
Dean grinned from where he had been waiting on the sofa and stood up, following the thunks of her boots hitting the kitchen floor as she toed them off and the clinks of glass bottles rattling together as she shoved them in the refrigerator door.
He cocked his hip and leaned his shoulder against the archway between the kitchen and the living room, hands buried in his pockets and smiled as she bustled around the kitchen, magically whipping up what would soon be dinner.
And she had been home less than ten minutes.
“Hey,” she finally said, turning around to smile at him.
“Hey,” he smirked back.
Instantly she could tell something was off and froze everything she had been doing and stared at him.
After a beat of silence Dean’s grin slid from his face and he dropped his gaze to his boots, toeing at the scuffed tile of the kitchen floor.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking up at her from underneath his lashes.
“Don’t,” she sighed, leaning back against the counter. “I knew this was coming.”
“For what it’s worth I’ve never wanted to stay before,” he said quietly, moving closer to her.
She heaved a sigh again and hoisted herself up onto the counter before finally meeting his eyes.
“C’mere,” she mumbled, hooking her heels behind his thighs and pulling him into her, his hands finally emerging from his pockets to slide up her jean covered thighs, burying their fingers into the warm skin at her waistband.
“For what it’s worth I’ve never wanted to come back before,” he whispered, letting her loop her arms around his neck, fingers burying in the short hair at the base of his skull, forehead resting against hers.
She sighed again, bumping her nose against his.
“Tell me you’ll call, let me know you’re okay.”
He nodded, unable to trust his voice due to the swelling in his chest over the fact that there was actually someone who wanted and needed and cared about his wellbeing.
“Of course,” he finally whispered.
“Mac,” he sighed, kissing her softly as his hands slipped under the warmth of her hoodie. “You know I don’t know if I can…”
“I’ll be here,” she whispered, pulling him back into a kiss.
“I can’t promise…”
“I’ll be here,” she cut him off, fingers curling in his hair just enough to get his attention and lock eyes with him. “I’ll still be here.”
He smirked, leaning forward to bump foreheads with her again.
“Alright.”
Wordcount: 438
Rating: umm, PG...I guess
Pairing: Dean/OFC (Mac)
Feedback: oh hell yea!
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean *damnit*
Author's Note: there is basically NO point to this, it barely qualifies as a drabble let alone anything else (seriously, it's LESS than 500 words) but considering I haven't been able to write ANYTHING in almost SIX MONTHS I wasn't going to refuse my muse when it came up with this out of no where not connected to anything scene
***
“I have beer!” she called, kicking the door shut behind her, finally getting home from work.
Dean grinned from where he had been waiting on the sofa and stood up, following the thunks of her boots hitting the kitchen floor as she toed them off and the clinks of glass bottles rattling together as she shoved them in the refrigerator door.
He cocked his hip and leaned his shoulder against the archway between the kitchen and the living room, hands buried in his pockets and smiled as she bustled around the kitchen, magically whipping up what would soon be dinner.
And she had been home less than ten minutes.
“Hey,” she finally said, turning around to smile at him.
“Hey,” he smirked back.
Instantly she could tell something was off and froze everything she had been doing and stared at him.
After a beat of silence Dean’s grin slid from his face and he dropped his gaze to his boots, toeing at the scuffed tile of the kitchen floor.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking up at her from underneath his lashes.
“Don’t,” she sighed, leaning back against the counter. “I knew this was coming.”
“For what it’s worth I’ve never wanted to stay before,” he said quietly, moving closer to her.
She heaved a sigh again and hoisted herself up onto the counter before finally meeting his eyes.
“C’mere,” she mumbled, hooking her heels behind his thighs and pulling him into her, his hands finally emerging from his pockets to slide up her jean covered thighs, burying their fingers into the warm skin at her waistband.
“For what it’s worth I’ve never wanted to come back before,” he whispered, letting her loop her arms around his neck, fingers burying in the short hair at the base of his skull, forehead resting against hers.
She sighed again, bumping her nose against his.
“Tell me you’ll call, let me know you’re okay.”
He nodded, unable to trust his voice due to the swelling in his chest over the fact that there was actually someone who wanted and needed and cared about his wellbeing.
“Of course,” he finally whispered.
“Mac,” he sighed, kissing her softly as his hands slipped under the warmth of her hoodie. “You know I don’t know if I can…”
“I’ll be here,” she whispered, pulling him back into a kiss.
“I can’t promise…”
“I’ll be here,” she cut him off, fingers curling in his hair just enough to get his attention and lock eyes with him. “I’ll still be here.”
He smirked, leaning forward to bump foreheads with her again.
“Alright.”