Priorities
Her forehead rested against the cool glass. The bay window in her room provided a small bench that she had been occupying for a while. The power had gone out hours ago due to the storm, leaving her with nothing more than a flashlight and a book to keep her occupied. She wasn’t going to risk using up her laptop battery in case she would be powerless until morning. Instead, she made camp on the bench, listening and watching the storm outside.
A knock on the door roused her senses. Her gaze broke from watching the drops of rain pelt the pane.
“It’s open,” she called, figuring it was one of two people. Her guess was correct when Dean stepped through the doorway. He edged in carefully in the dark, carefully avoiding the furniture in the room. As he walked closer, she could see that he was covered in mud and soaked through from water.
“I thought you’d have been asleep by now,” Dean admitted. No television, no music, no laptop? He would have been sound asleep.
Chloe shook her head with a shrug. “How’d it go?”
“We had to dig up a grave in a monsoon, how do you think it went?” He muttered, running a hand through his hair and sending water down onto the floor. “How’s the leg?”
She looked down at her leg, stretched out on the bench seat. Earlier that day she had broken it, being flung out of a second story window like a rag doll by a pissed off spirit. So, she stayed behind at the small family owned hotel until her healing powers kicked in. The only thing she would be doing if she had gone would be to hold Dean and Sam back.
Chloe lifted her leg and flexed it for demonstration. “Little sore and bruised, but…. It’ll be good as new by morning.”
Dean nodded, before remembering his reason for coming to her room. “Mind if I use your shower? Sam hijacked ours.”
“It’s all yours. Just be careful, the power is out. I don’t need you slipping in the dark and cracking your head open.”
“You could fix it,” Dean grinned, carefully heading towards the bathroom.
“And I would love to hear you explain to the managers of this place why you’re carrying a dead girl out to the car. It was hard enough keeping the broken leg hidden.”
“It’s an old cheerleading injury acting up. And Sam’s an excellent doctor.”
“You mean Dr. Sam Van Helsing?”
“I didn’t say what kind of doctor he was.”
With that, the bathroom door closed. Chloe shook her head in amusement. It was a wonder that the Winchesters had such a good track record of staying under the radar with Dean coming up with half of the aliases they used. But then again, the general populace probably was not as culturally diverse as she would like to believe and therefore would not pick up on the little references.
She heard the shower start in the bathroom. The sound of the rushing water in there joined in with the rain outside. Chloe leaned back on the wall, taking up her original position of storm watching.
Dean had been in the shower at least ten minutes when she glanced at the clock, noting it was almost midnight. The new semester would be starting again in two days and she would have to be back up in Boston by the following night for work. Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment, wondering why the twenty-fourth was important. Then it clicked.
The shower turned off. Moments later, Dean stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Chloe realized he must have grabbed a change of clothes before coming to bother her for her shower as he looked ready to go to bed. At least he had enough sense not to go parading around in the nude.
“Thanks for letting me borrow the shower.” He was already heading towards the door.
“No problem,” she spoke. She bit her lip before calling out. “Hey, Dean?”
He paused at the doorway, looking back at her. “Yeah?”
“Happy Birthday.”
“What are you - ?” He began, stepping back into the room. Chloe pointed to the clock on the wall. He’d be damned, it was his birthday. Funny how time flies when you’re hunting evil sons of bitches…
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Chloe asked amusedly, tilting her head at him. But then again, she wasn’t entirely innocent in the remembering the birthday game. If it wasn’t for Lois’ annual calls at three A.M. to blast Leslie Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me”, Chloe would probably forget her birthday all together. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really remember how that tradition started…she just remembered their mothers loved the song.
“Yeah, well, I was little busy today. After taking care of a vengeful spirit and having to watch you take a nice dive out a window, realizing that I lived another year wasn’t high up on my list of priorities.”
“You have a list of priorities?” She teased with an amazed gasp before breaking out into a grin at his perturbed expression. Chloe slid off the bench, walking carefully in the room towards the table off to the side.
“Be nice to me, it’s my birthday.”
“Right,” she conceded, a wry smile playing on her lips.
He watched her, hearing the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. The hell? His brow furrowed as he tried to see. “Okay, what are you doing?”
He heard the sound of a match striking on the booklet. Chloe turned, holding a snack cupcake they picked up at the last rest stop and a lit match. Dean licked his lip. When was the last time someone had done something like this for his birthday? Hell, when was the last time he actually cared it was his birthday?
Finding his voice, he met her eyes. “Isn’t the candle supposed to be in the cake?”
“It’s a stale gas station cupcake and a match - take what you can get. Close your eyes and blow out the match before I burn myself,” Chloe laughed, looking at the match. She saw him hesitate for a second. “Come on, Winchester, don’t be a grouch.”
“The make a wish thing is total bullshit.”
“Skeptic.”
He stared at her dubiously for a second. She was seriously calling him a skeptic? Seeing her stare at him pointedly, he sighed, deciding to play along. He closed his eyes and blew the “candle” out.
“Well?” Chloe asked when he opened his eyes.
“Didn’t work. You’ve still got your clothes on.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. She tossed the extinguished match onto an ashtray on the table.
“Winning the lottery, world peace…yet you wished for me to be naked?”
Dean shrugged in the dark. “It’s my birthday. I can wish for whatever the hell I want. Besides, I got my priorities in order.”
“Oh, right, your list,” she nodded sagely, a smirk coming to her face. “I think you need to reevaluate that list.”
“Maybe.”
Dean paused in thought, looking over at her amused expression. He had only been half-kidding with the naked thing. It was his birthday. He should get some action, right?
He stepped forward; confusion momentarily flit across her features. Dean leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. Clearly, the confusion disappeared as she began to kiss back.
Unlike at the cave, there was no expected audience. There was no one to come in and break it up. Chloe pulled away first. Despite the faint light in the room, the curiosity and surprise were clear in her eyes.
At least there wasn’t any anger on her part. But then again, Dean was always one to push his luck…
“You know, I should get a kiss for each year. It’s tradition.”
The solemn expression on his face almost made her laugh.
If she had damaged a few more brain cells, she might have fallen for that line.
“Sorry, but you’re really old. That’s just gross.” She declined with a wrinkle of her nose. She was joking, he knew. Or at least, he hoped she was joking. Thirty-ish wasn’t old. Besides, he only had about five years on her. Chloe raised her free hand into a fist. “Besides, I thought it was punches.”
“Nope. Kisses.” He grabbed her fist before it connected with his shoulder. “But I won’t object to spanking.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. Before Dean had a second to react, she smashed the cupcake into his face. “Just be a good boy and eat your cupcake, Dean.”
Well, she hadn’t killed him. Maybe she was just being nice because it was his birthday.
He took the cupcake off his face, licking the chocolate icing on the side of his mouth. It wasn’t that stale, but it wasn’t homemade either. No matter. It was chocolate. He’d eat it.
Deciding he would like to live to see his next birthday and get some sleep sometime soon so they could hit the road in the morning, he began backing towards the door to the room.
“Same time next year?”
“You think there’s going to be a next time?” Chloe challenged, pulling back the covers on her bed.
His mouth was full with cupcake as he turned the handle on the door. “Sure. You can’t get enough of me.”
She laughed. “Goodnight, Dean.”
“Night.”
A knock on the door roused her senses. Her gaze broke from watching the drops of rain pelt the pane.
“It’s open,” she called, figuring it was one of two people. Her guess was correct when Dean stepped through the doorway. He edged in carefully in the dark, carefully avoiding the furniture in the room. As he walked closer, she could see that he was covered in mud and soaked through from water.
“I thought you’d have been asleep by now,” Dean admitted. No television, no music, no laptop? He would have been sound asleep.
Chloe shook her head with a shrug. “How’d it go?”
“We had to dig up a grave in a monsoon, how do you think it went?” He muttered, running a hand through his hair and sending water down onto the floor. “How’s the leg?”
She looked down at her leg, stretched out on the bench seat. Earlier that day she had broken it, being flung out of a second story window like a rag doll by a pissed off spirit. So, she stayed behind at the small family owned hotel until her healing powers kicked in. The only thing she would be doing if she had gone would be to hold Dean and Sam back.
Chloe lifted her leg and flexed it for demonstration. “Little sore and bruised, but…. It’ll be good as new by morning.”
Dean nodded, before remembering his reason for coming to her room. “Mind if I use your shower? Sam hijacked ours.”
“It’s all yours. Just be careful, the power is out. I don’t need you slipping in the dark and cracking your head open.”
“You could fix it,” Dean grinned, carefully heading towards the bathroom.
“And I would love to hear you explain to the managers of this place why you’re carrying a dead girl out to the car. It was hard enough keeping the broken leg hidden.”
“It’s an old cheerleading injury acting up. And Sam’s an excellent doctor.”
“You mean Dr. Sam Van Helsing?”
“I didn’t say what kind of doctor he was.”
With that, the bathroom door closed. Chloe shook her head in amusement. It was a wonder that the Winchesters had such a good track record of staying under the radar with Dean coming up with half of the aliases they used. But then again, the general populace probably was not as culturally diverse as she would like to believe and therefore would not pick up on the little references.
She heard the shower start in the bathroom. The sound of the rushing water in there joined in with the rain outside. Chloe leaned back on the wall, taking up her original position of storm watching.
Dean had been in the shower at least ten minutes when she glanced at the clock, noting it was almost midnight. The new semester would be starting again in two days and she would have to be back up in Boston by the following night for work. Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment, wondering why the twenty-fourth was important. Then it clicked.
The shower turned off. Moments later, Dean stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Chloe realized he must have grabbed a change of clothes before coming to bother her for her shower as he looked ready to go to bed. At least he had enough sense not to go parading around in the nude.
“Thanks for letting me borrow the shower.” He was already heading towards the door.
“No problem,” she spoke. She bit her lip before calling out. “Hey, Dean?”
He paused at the doorway, looking back at her. “Yeah?”
“Happy Birthday.”
“What are you - ?” He began, stepping back into the room. Chloe pointed to the clock on the wall. He’d be damned, it was his birthday. Funny how time flies when you’re hunting evil sons of bitches…
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Chloe asked amusedly, tilting her head at him. But then again, she wasn’t entirely innocent in the remembering the birthday game. If it wasn’t for Lois’ annual calls at three A.M. to blast Leslie Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me”, Chloe would probably forget her birthday all together. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really remember how that tradition started…she just remembered their mothers loved the song.
“Yeah, well, I was little busy today. After taking care of a vengeful spirit and having to watch you take a nice dive out a window, realizing that I lived another year wasn’t high up on my list of priorities.”
“You have a list of priorities?” She teased with an amazed gasp before breaking out into a grin at his perturbed expression. Chloe slid off the bench, walking carefully in the room towards the table off to the side.
“Be nice to me, it’s my birthday.”
“Right,” she conceded, a wry smile playing on her lips.
He watched her, hearing the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. The hell? His brow furrowed as he tried to see. “Okay, what are you doing?”
He heard the sound of a match striking on the booklet. Chloe turned, holding a snack cupcake they picked up at the last rest stop and a lit match. Dean licked his lip. When was the last time someone had done something like this for his birthday? Hell, when was the last time he actually cared it was his birthday?
Finding his voice, he met her eyes. “Isn’t the candle supposed to be in the cake?”
“It’s a stale gas station cupcake and a match - take what you can get. Close your eyes and blow out the match before I burn myself,” Chloe laughed, looking at the match. She saw him hesitate for a second. “Come on, Winchester, don’t be a grouch.”
“The make a wish thing is total bullshit.”
“Skeptic.”
He stared at her dubiously for a second. She was seriously calling him a skeptic? Seeing her stare at him pointedly, he sighed, deciding to play along. He closed his eyes and blew the “candle” out.
“Well?” Chloe asked when he opened his eyes.
“Didn’t work. You’ve still got your clothes on.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. She tossed the extinguished match onto an ashtray on the table.
“Winning the lottery, world peace…yet you wished for me to be naked?”
Dean shrugged in the dark. “It’s my birthday. I can wish for whatever the hell I want. Besides, I got my priorities in order.”
“Oh, right, your list,” she nodded sagely, a smirk coming to her face. “I think you need to reevaluate that list.”
“Maybe.”
Dean paused in thought, looking over at her amused expression. He had only been half-kidding with the naked thing. It was his birthday. He should get some action, right?
He stepped forward; confusion momentarily flit across her features. Dean leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. Clearly, the confusion disappeared as she began to kiss back.
Unlike at the cave, there was no expected audience. There was no one to come in and break it up. Chloe pulled away first. Despite the faint light in the room, the curiosity and surprise were clear in her eyes.
At least there wasn’t any anger on her part. But then again, Dean was always one to push his luck…
“You know, I should get a kiss for each year. It’s tradition.”
The solemn expression on his face almost made her laugh.
If she had damaged a few more brain cells, she might have fallen for that line.
“Sorry, but you’re really old. That’s just gross.” She declined with a wrinkle of her nose. She was joking, he knew. Or at least, he hoped she was joking. Thirty-ish wasn’t old. Besides, he only had about five years on her. Chloe raised her free hand into a fist. “Besides, I thought it was punches.”
“Nope. Kisses.” He grabbed her fist before it connected with his shoulder. “But I won’t object to spanking.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. Before Dean had a second to react, she smashed the cupcake into his face. “Just be a good boy and eat your cupcake, Dean.”
Well, she hadn’t killed him. Maybe she was just being nice because it was his birthday.
He took the cupcake off his face, licking the chocolate icing on the side of his mouth. It wasn’t that stale, but it wasn’t homemade either. No matter. It was chocolate. He’d eat it.
Deciding he would like to live to see his next birthday and get some sleep sometime soon so they could hit the road in the morning, he began backing towards the door to the room.
“Same time next year?”
“You think there’s going to be a next time?” Chloe challenged, pulling back the covers on her bed.
His mouth was full with cupcake as he turned the handle on the door. “Sure. You can’t get enough of me.”
She laughed. “Goodnight, Dean.”
“Night.”