"Yeah, well I don't know what whoever told you actually told you, but I didn't make it," Max said, and walked over to the cabinet to grab all the stuff to make coffee.
"You know, you could always just look," Max suggested, and there was just the slightest edge to her voice, like she was two steps from getting annoyed. "Or make one."
"Yeah, but," said Dean, gesturing towards her, "you're already up." He'd heard that edge, all right, heard it and liked it, and he grinned as he gestured to himself in turn. "And I'm not."
"You don't want to help me with that?" Dean asked. The chick looked about ready to kick the chair right out from under him, and maybe that shouldn't have sounded appealing, but it was more action than Dean had seen in a week.
"Does that really work?" Max asked, and it wasn't clear whether or not she was genuinely curious or just being a bitch. She walked over to the counter to face him, setting her elbows on the surface as she leaned towards him.
"Is that what this is called?" Dean asked. Maybe it wasn't getting him anywhere good, but it had brought her closer. "I thought it was just being handsome. Being a dick, you say?" Dean pursed his lips. "Huh."
"I think you thought wrong," Max said, and rolled her eyes. Worse than Sketchy. She was convinced that he was worse than Sketchy, and he'd been busted at least five times, trying to spy on her and Original Cindy changing.
"I was told there was pie."
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
That slight edge? It was pretty much a full edge now.
Reply
Reply
"The whole being a dick thing?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment