Shake It Off
Title: Shake It Off
Characters: Dean and Charlie
Rating: PG-13
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 758
Summary: Charlie has forgiven Dean, hell in her book there isn't even really anything to forgive, it's like the Darkseid Omega mark or whatever, but she still needs Dean to believe it.
Since she’d started hunting Charlie had started writing a journal of her own. Though she much preferred the term chronicle. Had a better zing to it. And she’d been excited to get the chance to pen some entries with the Winchester boys. Nothing in the uber creepy all up in their face way, of course, like with the Supernatural book series. She didn’t need the full frontal. Though a girl who is into girls can still have certain curiosities. She loved and respected both boys way too much to satisfy them. Yeah she heard it. And she was talking about her curiosities. Can’t do this writing thing without bumping into an entendre or two.
The Oz pages? They were kind of freaking awesome. You know up until she’d got split in two. And okay it’d been kind of neat at first. But then there were holes. Silent, glaringly empty pages she had now since started to go back and fill. She still wanted it out of her. Writing helped. Well a little.
Being on mission for Dean? That helped more.
She’d gotten back from chasing down another lead. And saving Dean was a two part mission. There was the thing on his arm. And there was Dean himself. And she didn’t like that new pain in his eyes when he looked at her or how much thought he put behind every little touch taken or not. And there was a lot more ‘not’ going on.
She needed him to believe in her forgiveness. That he was still her friend. Her brother. Her hero. And she wanted him back.
They were in the kitchen and Charlie was watching Dean make lunch for the three of them. Sam was in full research mode elsewhere in the bunker, under a mountain of books. It was the only way he could convince Dean to take a break. Charlie was in need of a little down time too. Just a couple of days. Or maybe until she got a little something more out of the older Winchester.
The radio was on, background noise, trying and failing to cover the fractured air between them. Charlie wasn’t even minding it all that much attention when the first few beats of Shake It Off interrupted her flow of consciousness and she wasn’t the only one who perked up to it. She saw that little reflexive twitch in Dean’s hips. And she got up.
“Dance with me,” she said hand outstretched.
“What?” Dean’s shoulders tensed, knife paused in his hand, mayo only half-spread.
“You heard me,” it hadn’t been a question and she still wasn’t asking.
“Charlie,” Dean said with that level of exasperation that only he could achieve, but then he was looking at her, he tried for reason, “Come on…..There isn’t even enough space in here,” but he didn’t really have any. And Charlie knew he knew she knew that. Say that ten times fast bitches.
“Weak!” she said, challenge in her voice.
“What?” Dean played dumb, which was cute and all but Dean wasn’t dumb. He just did dumb shit sometimes.
“Flimsy excuse, Winchester,” Charlie wasn’t going to let him get away with it, “And, dude, this kitchen could fit like another kitchen in here. Dance with me.”
And she didn’t give him time to rebuff this time, she just grabbed his hand and got her own shake going. Waving his arm around with her.
“Charlie,” he tried again anyway but he smiled despite himself with a sigh and a shake of his head before he joined her for real. Hips, ass, arms, shoulders, feet all becoming part of the motion but he didn’t let go of her hand.
They were both hollering, singing, the odd lyric here and there and Dean even twirled her around a couple of times and he started to laugh. Charlie couldn’t help but laugh too. And for a moment Dean was Dean, free from the bone-crushing weight on his shoulders and then it all came tumbling down and dropped him to his knees. Her world tipped from its axis as the tears took him over with a broken litany of sorry.
Charlie pulled him into her telling him it’s okay. It was okay. And it would be okay. He would be okay. She had to fight back tears of her own when he pulled her in tight and she rubbed across his shoulders gently, fingers of her other hand in his hair, “Shh,” she whispered softly, her cheek pressed against the top of his head. It’ll be okay.
Characters: Dean and Charlie
Rating: PG-13
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 758
Summary: Charlie has forgiven Dean, hell in her book there isn't even really anything to forgive, it's like the Darkseid Omega mark or whatever, but she still needs Dean to believe it.
Since she’d started hunting Charlie had started writing a journal of her own. Though she much preferred the term chronicle. Had a better zing to it. And she’d been excited to get the chance to pen some entries with the Winchester boys. Nothing in the uber creepy all up in their face way, of course, like with the Supernatural book series. She didn’t need the full frontal. Though a girl who is into girls can still have certain curiosities. She loved and respected both boys way too much to satisfy them. Yeah she heard it. And she was talking about her curiosities. Can’t do this writing thing without bumping into an entendre or two.
The Oz pages? They were kind of freaking awesome. You know up until she’d got split in two. And okay it’d been kind of neat at first. But then there were holes. Silent, glaringly empty pages she had now since started to go back and fill. She still wanted it out of her. Writing helped. Well a little.
Being on mission for Dean? That helped more.
She’d gotten back from chasing down another lead. And saving Dean was a two part mission. There was the thing on his arm. And there was Dean himself. And she didn’t like that new pain in his eyes when he looked at her or how much thought he put behind every little touch taken or not. And there was a lot more ‘not’ going on.
She needed him to believe in her forgiveness. That he was still her friend. Her brother. Her hero. And she wanted him back.
They were in the kitchen and Charlie was watching Dean make lunch for the three of them. Sam was in full research mode elsewhere in the bunker, under a mountain of books. It was the only way he could convince Dean to take a break. Charlie was in need of a little down time too. Just a couple of days. Or maybe until she got a little something more out of the older Winchester.
The radio was on, background noise, trying and failing to cover the fractured air between them. Charlie wasn’t even minding it all that much attention when the first few beats of Shake It Off interrupted her flow of consciousness and she wasn’t the only one who perked up to it. She saw that little reflexive twitch in Dean’s hips. And she got up.
“Dance with me,” she said hand outstretched.
“What?” Dean’s shoulders tensed, knife paused in his hand, mayo only half-spread.
“You heard me,” it hadn’t been a question and she still wasn’t asking.
“Charlie,” Dean said with that level of exasperation that only he could achieve, but then he was looking at her, he tried for reason, “Come on…..There isn’t even enough space in here,” but he didn’t really have any. And Charlie knew he knew she knew that. Say that ten times fast bitches.
“Weak!” she said, challenge in her voice.
“What?” Dean played dumb, which was cute and all but Dean wasn’t dumb. He just did dumb shit sometimes.
“Flimsy excuse, Winchester,” Charlie wasn’t going to let him get away with it, “And, dude, this kitchen could fit like another kitchen in here. Dance with me.”
And she didn’t give him time to rebuff this time, she just grabbed his hand and got her own shake going. Waving his arm around with her.
“Charlie,” he tried again anyway but he smiled despite himself with a sigh and a shake of his head before he joined her for real. Hips, ass, arms, shoulders, feet all becoming part of the motion but he didn’t let go of her hand.
They were both hollering, singing, the odd lyric here and there and Dean even twirled her around a couple of times and he started to laugh. Charlie couldn’t help but laugh too. And for a moment Dean was Dean, free from the bone-crushing weight on his shoulders and then it all came tumbling down and dropped him to his knees. Her world tipped from its axis as the tears took him over with a broken litany of sorry.
Charlie pulled him into her telling him it’s okay. It was okay. And it would be okay. He would be okay. She had to fight back tears of her own when he pulled her in tight and she rubbed across his shoulders gently, fingers of her other hand in his hair, “Shh,” she whispered softly, her cheek pressed against the top of his head. It’ll be okay.