Title: Unattached Drifter Christmas
Words: 102 (but who’s counting?)
Warnings: Fluffy non-explicit Wincest
Prompt: DEW - a character you love and/or romance.
Summary: Dean left maybe an hour ago, which means he’s now schmoozing the bartender and picking a girl to peel off from the herd.
Sam checks the clock. Dean left maybe an hour ago, which means he’s now schmoozing the bartender and picking a girl to peel off from the herd.
He shouldn’t be pissed. Not like they’re… what? Dating? And god knows if he asked, Spend Valentine’s with me? he’d never hear the end of it.
Engine noise. Dean strolls in with a liquor store bag.
“Strike out already?” Yeah, he’s pissed.
“You tell me.” Ten heart-shaped Reese’s and premium bourbon hit the bed. Dean’s nuclear-powered smirk. “You really think I wanna be anywhere else?”
Sam kisses him. It’s either that or wring his neck.
Genre: Humour and hopeless fangirling
Character/s: Dean Winchester
Spoilers/Warnings: Dean objectification ahoy
Disclaimer: I don't own him.
Sort of romance ... Dean's watching Pride and Prejudice. But is he following the plot? Is he heck.
(This isn't QUITE how it happened in the original P & P, but I'm claiming artistic licence)!
He would stride out of the lake; a soaking white linen shirt clinging sinfully to the broad expanse of his chest.
The camera would worship him, lingering longingly over every contour; every long, sinuous line of his dripping torso as it nestled seductively beneath a near-transparent layer of fabric which embraced it like a second skin.
Thanks to the chilly water, his perky nipples would take perkiness to a whole new level; hell, those things would be able to take someone’s eye out by the time he reached the bank.
See, Dean kept telling Sam these stupid costume dramas didn’t have to be boring.
As he emerged from the water, his black buckskin breeches, taut and straining under the water’s unforgiving grip, would reveal secrets – real impressive secrets - that would paralyse the viewing public. Hell, the director would probably have to break out the wide-angle lens for that shot.
The heaving bosom of that chick waiting on the lake’s edge for him would heave way more than it had ever heaved before as she enjoyed the view. And there’s a view Dean would enjoy.
Oh yeah, the BBC sure missed a trick when they cast that stiff-assed British dude as Mr D’Arcy.