Chocca Is An Oldy Fart. I Am Bad At Drabbles.
Title: Impossible Things
Author: pdragon76
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Het/Drabble
Characters: Dean/Nancy
Birthday Gal's Prompts: "blush", Jus In Bello
Disclaimer: It’s Kripke’s world, we’re all just living in it. *snaps fingers, points*
Summary: Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. ~ Lewis Carroll
A/N: On the occasion of chocca2’s birthday. Remember, my love: it’s not enough to just wish for impossible things. You have to trust in those fuckers. *smish* Sorry about your drabble. It's pretty naff. *facepalm*
Dean’s hand tracks across the blueprint. His thumb would leave an eager gouge inside her thigh. Sure and smooth like his voice. She feels his words at her fingers, the barest hum through muscle.
If they were alone, she could lean. He would tilt his face to meet her with his unsurprised mouth. She could be hesitant. Then less so.
He requests salt.
Storeroom. Her back to brick, his weight against her. Perhaps a broom falls with a clatter.
“Perfect.” A warm imagined word at her ear.
She fumbles with the tape’s edge.
“How’re you holdin’ up, Nancy?”
She blushes.
Author: pdragon76
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Het/Drabble
Characters: Dean/Nancy
Birthday Gal's Prompts: "blush", Jus In Bello
Disclaimer: It’s Kripke’s world, we’re all just living in it. *snaps fingers, points*
Summary: Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. ~ Lewis Carroll
A/N: On the occasion of chocca2’s birthday. Remember, my love: it’s not enough to just wish for impossible things. You have to trust in those fuckers. *smish* Sorry about your drabble. It's pretty naff. *facepalm*
Dean’s hand tracks across the blueprint. His thumb would leave an eager gouge inside her thigh. Sure and smooth like his voice. She feels his words at her fingers, the barest hum through muscle.
If they were alone, she could lean. He would tilt his face to meet her with his unsurprised mouth. She could be hesitant. Then less so.
He requests salt.
Storeroom. Her back to brick, his weight against her. Perhaps a broom falls with a clatter.
“Perfect.” A warm imagined word at her ear.
She fumbles with the tape’s edge.
“How’re you holdin’ up, Nancy?”
She blushes.