Happy Halloween, Dean Winchester

[winchester_lost]

One of the many things that Dean enjoyed about Halloween was that Sammy hated it. After the requisite amount of big-brother ribbing about how he needed to get out and enjoy himself, he was free to go out and be indecent as he wanted, without having to fret about running into his younger brother. Dean walked out of the costume shop in a woman's

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[winchester_lost]

The almost scolding way that Crowley's fingers closed over the hunter's made Dean lips quirk into a playful sort of smile. He really had no clue in the least how much that tie was worth, he just knew it was expensive, and he liked the way it felt under his fingers. Dean arched an eyebrow at that comment, fighting to keep back a snicker at that declaration: he failed.

Dean would never say it out loud, but Crowley did make suits look good. Never the boring stark monochrome of feds and execs, always fit his frame that drew the eyes to the breadth of his shoulders and then down. Not that Dean knew a lot about suits, admittedly. But Crowley always seemed to look better in them than most.

That hand on his hip pulling their bodies closer together, and then fingers were gliding over the thin fabric of the costume to cup at the full curve of his ass. His breath hitched for a moment at that first stray brush of fingertips against the lace ruffles of those panties. Dean caught that smile and had to try and hide the shiver, because there was something wicked and wrong and right about that knowing way his lips curled. And then it wasn't just his smile, it was hot words whispering against his ear. Fingers sliding over his rear again, touching lace and pressing into the silky fabric that's skin.

"Mmm. The skirt was too short," he breathed as if that was really any sort of defense. As if that somehow explained the ruffles. It didn't: they both knew that it didn't, and they both knew what he wasn't saying.