Fic'ing to Christmas - Day Eight - FIC: A Little Detour
Title: A Little Detour
Prompter: kandykaye
Prompt: Buffy/Dean, smut, lake or pool
Rating: FR21, nakedness
Betas: kaylashay81
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Supernatural
Disclaimer: The characters of BtVS belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc, & Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc., The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
NOTE: It seems to be lacking the smut, sorry Kaye!
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
Gravel pinged along the undercarriage as Dean slowed the Impala to a crawl and exited off the highway onto an unmarked drive. Gravel changed to dirt, and Buffy watched as dust swirled alongside the car before drifting back, leaving a trail in their wake. The driveway cut straight through the trees, unkempt and unmarked, and no one, save those that knew about it, would assume the road went anywhere. She cast a look over at Dean, studying him as he focused on navigating, and not wrecking his baby. A half-mile in the trees cleared, and the dirt gave way once again to a gravel driveway. The house wasn’t much to look at, one story, three rooms long by two rooms wide, with a porch that looked one strong wind away collapsing. Dean pulled the Impala up next to the house and shifted into park. He took a look around the property, before he turned his attention on Buffy in the seat next to him.
“This is it?” he asked, not able to keep the shock out of his voice.
Buffy gave him a short nod and released her seatbelt, turning in the seat to grab her duffel bag off the backseat. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle and she pulled it back while pushing the door open with her shoulder. Metal groaned with the movement as Buffy’s boots made contact with a grinding crunch in the gravel. “Home sweet safe-house,” she called before she used her hip to close her door.
She heard Dean’s door open, his feet made contact with the driveway before he responded. “All the money the Council’s got and this is what they invest in a safe-house?”
“Money’s better spent on tracking down things that go bump then what the roof over our head looks like. Some could, and do argue, differently. I used to be one of them. But sometimes priorities change,” she explained, sliding the duffel over her shoulder. She glanced down at the Impala and grimaced at the fine layer of brown covering the shiny black paint of Dean’s Impala. Dean was going to bitch about this for awhile, or at least until she took his mind off of it with other things. A smirk tugged up the corner of her mouth. She looked over at him, expecting him still to be studying the place in disgust, but he was focused on her.
“That look usually ends with trouble,” he said, pushing his door closed, and making his way around the front of the Impala to meet her.
She arched an eyebrow even though she knew it was true. They’d been hunting together off and on for a year, and Giles had had to bail them out of situations more times than she would like to admit, even if it did end in her being scolded like a schoolgirl. “Well,” she started, and rocked up on the balls of her feet, leaning up toward Dean.
He took the hint, meeting her mouth halfway, hand coming up to curl around her jaw, while the other found its way to her hip to steady her. She got distracted for a moment, lost in his kiss as he pulled her in closer to his body, before she remembered why she had insisted they stop at this particular safe-house. With a soft groan of disappointment, she pulled back, sneaking another fleeting kiss before falling back on her heels.
“There was a reason, besides money, that I insisted Giles purchase this little slice of paradise,” she explained, reaching down to slide her hand into his and pull it away from her hip as she turned away from him and toward the back of the house.
“A king sized bed with Magic Fingers?” Dean asked and Buffy’s eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Nope,” she replied and gave his hand a gentle tug as she started walking through the ankle high grass alongside the house. The setting sun blinded them as they cleared the side of the house, and Buffy raised her free hand above her brow. Beside her, Dean did the same, letting his vision adjust before Buffy saw the widening of his eyes as he took in the water. “I do recall you saying something about ‘making waves with moves I couldn’t possibly handle’,” she reminded him with a roll of her eyes.
Dean snorted. “Do you really want me to repeat some of the gems that have come out of your mouth post-slayage, pre-release?”
Buffy’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head, her blond bangs sliding out from behind her ear and falling down in front of her face. “Nah, I think we’re good without revisiting those moments,” she readily agreed as she tucked the overgrown bangs back behind her ear.
“Didn’t think so.” He fidgeted as he studied the lake before he turned, blocking the sun as he leaned down to kiss her. “Last one in’s cooking dinner for a week,” he whispered against her lips and took off toward the pond.
Buffy stood there dazed for a moment, watching Dean haul ass down the sloping backyard and toward the water. “Hey!” she called, her duffel sliding off her shoulder and landing with a thud on the ground at her feet. She took off after him, struggling with the sleeves of her jacket, managing to pull it off as she passed his leather jacket in the grass.
She pulled her tee-shirt over her head, head popping out in time to see Dean already at the water’s edge, the tan expanse of his back bent over as he toed off his boots, each landing on the pebbles with a dull thump. Buffy unsnapped her jeans, sliding the zipper down as she made it alongside him. She growled in frustration as she fiddled with the buckles and zippers on her boots, both taking up precious seconds while Dean continued to strip. She finally got free of them, not willing to get them wet just for the sake of winning, and looked up to see Dean hook his thumbs in his jeans and tug them down along with his boxers. He did a shimmy, one that totally distracted her from her own task of stripping, and dropped his pants on top of his boots. He didn’t hesitate or test the water, just ran straight in, diving under when the water reached mid-thigh.
When he surfaced, he had that cocky shit-eating grin on his face that had attracted her attention in the first place. “Winner!” he yelled and pumped his fist in the air.
Ignoring his gloating, she reached behind her back to undo the strap of her bra. It fell to the ground at her feet and she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and underwear, and dragging them down with her own little shimmy that wiped that cocky grin right off his face.
Yeah, this little crap’tastic safe-house was well worth it.
Prompter: kandykaye
Prompt: Buffy/Dean, smut, lake or pool
Rating: FR21, nakedness
Betas: kaylashay81
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Supernatural
Disclaimer: The characters of BtVS belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc, & Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc., The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
NOTE: It seems to be lacking the smut, sorry Kaye!
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
Gravel pinged along the undercarriage as Dean slowed the Impala to a crawl and exited off the highway onto an unmarked drive. Gravel changed to dirt, and Buffy watched as dust swirled alongside the car before drifting back, leaving a trail in their wake. The driveway cut straight through the trees, unkempt and unmarked, and no one, save those that knew about it, would assume the road went anywhere. She cast a look over at Dean, studying him as he focused on navigating, and not wrecking his baby. A half-mile in the trees cleared, and the dirt gave way once again to a gravel driveway. The house wasn’t much to look at, one story, three rooms long by two rooms wide, with a porch that looked one strong wind away collapsing. Dean pulled the Impala up next to the house and shifted into park. He took a look around the property, before he turned his attention on Buffy in the seat next to him.
“This is it?” he asked, not able to keep the shock out of his voice.
Buffy gave him a short nod and released her seatbelt, turning in the seat to grab her duffel bag off the backseat. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle and she pulled it back while pushing the door open with her shoulder. Metal groaned with the movement as Buffy’s boots made contact with a grinding crunch in the gravel. “Home sweet safe-house,” she called before she used her hip to close her door.
She heard Dean’s door open, his feet made contact with the driveway before he responded. “All the money the Council’s got and this is what they invest in a safe-house?”
“Money’s better spent on tracking down things that go bump then what the roof over our head looks like. Some could, and do argue, differently. I used to be one of them. But sometimes priorities change,” she explained, sliding the duffel over her shoulder. She glanced down at the Impala and grimaced at the fine layer of brown covering the shiny black paint of Dean’s Impala. Dean was going to bitch about this for awhile, or at least until she took his mind off of it with other things. A smirk tugged up the corner of her mouth. She looked over at him, expecting him still to be studying the place in disgust, but he was focused on her.
“That look usually ends with trouble,” he said, pushing his door closed, and making his way around the front of the Impala to meet her.
She arched an eyebrow even though she knew it was true. They’d been hunting together off and on for a year, and Giles had had to bail them out of situations more times than she would like to admit, even if it did end in her being scolded like a schoolgirl. “Well,” she started, and rocked up on the balls of her feet, leaning up toward Dean.
He took the hint, meeting her mouth halfway, hand coming up to curl around her jaw, while the other found its way to her hip to steady her. She got distracted for a moment, lost in his kiss as he pulled her in closer to his body, before she remembered why she had insisted they stop at this particular safe-house. With a soft groan of disappointment, she pulled back, sneaking another fleeting kiss before falling back on her heels.
“There was a reason, besides money, that I insisted Giles purchase this little slice of paradise,” she explained, reaching down to slide her hand into his and pull it away from her hip as she turned away from him and toward the back of the house.
“A king sized bed with Magic Fingers?” Dean asked and Buffy’s eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Nope,” she replied and gave his hand a gentle tug as she started walking through the ankle high grass alongside the house. The setting sun blinded them as they cleared the side of the house, and Buffy raised her free hand above her brow. Beside her, Dean did the same, letting his vision adjust before Buffy saw the widening of his eyes as he took in the water. “I do recall you saying something about ‘making waves with moves I couldn’t possibly handle’,” she reminded him with a roll of her eyes.
Dean snorted. “Do you really want me to repeat some of the gems that have come out of your mouth post-slayage, pre-release?”
Buffy’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head, her blond bangs sliding out from behind her ear and falling down in front of her face. “Nah, I think we’re good without revisiting those moments,” she readily agreed as she tucked the overgrown bangs back behind her ear.
“Didn’t think so.” He fidgeted as he studied the lake before he turned, blocking the sun as he leaned down to kiss her. “Last one in’s cooking dinner for a week,” he whispered against her lips and took off toward the pond.
Buffy stood there dazed for a moment, watching Dean haul ass down the sloping backyard and toward the water. “Hey!” she called, her duffel sliding off her shoulder and landing with a thud on the ground at her feet. She took off after him, struggling with the sleeves of her jacket, managing to pull it off as she passed his leather jacket in the grass.
She pulled her tee-shirt over her head, head popping out in time to see Dean already at the water’s edge, the tan expanse of his back bent over as he toed off his boots, each landing on the pebbles with a dull thump. Buffy unsnapped her jeans, sliding the zipper down as she made it alongside him. She growled in frustration as she fiddled with the buckles and zippers on her boots, both taking up precious seconds while Dean continued to strip. She finally got free of them, not willing to get them wet just for the sake of winning, and looked up to see Dean hook his thumbs in his jeans and tug them down along with his boxers. He did a shimmy, one that totally distracted her from her own task of stripping, and dropped his pants on top of his boots. He didn’t hesitate or test the water, just ran straight in, diving under when the water reached mid-thigh.
When he surfaced, he had that cocky shit-eating grin on his face that had attracted her attention in the first place. “Winner!” he yelled and pumped his fist in the air.
Ignoring his gloating, she reached behind her back to undo the strap of her bra. It fell to the ground at her feet and she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and underwear, and dragging them down with her own little shimmy that wiped that cocky grin right off his face.
Yeah, this little crap’tastic safe-house was well worth it.