Her Turn - Part 5
Master Post || Prologue || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || Epilogue || Notes
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Part 5
Dean wakes to pain all throughout his body. He hasn't opened his eyes, but he wants to cry because it just hurts so badly. He hears himself whimpering, but he can't stop himself. It's everywhere. He can't pinpoint any area in his body that hurts worse than another, which makes it hard to control his reaction to it.
He tries. He really does. But not having a focus point makes him flounder, and he knows he hits something with his hand, and he starts to panic when he feels his arms being held down.
Dean opens his eyes, then squeezes them closed again because the light makes the pain in his eyes even worse. He's kicking his feet, writhing around, but something's holding him securely.
He finally hears someone talking to him. He wants to listen. He knows it's important. The voice is demanding he listen, but he hurts so badly all over, and he's trapped by arms wrapped around him, and he's scared because this just isn't right.
“Calm down, Dee,” Dean hears Sam's voice say near his right ear, feels the warmth of breath ghosting over his ear. “It's me. It's Sam. You're okay. You're in Tulley's house, in his bed. I'm right here. Charlie's here. You just need to calm down. You're okay.”
There's shooting pain going everywhere. He thinks his muscles are contracting, because it feels like his whole body is one giant charleyhorse. Sam's telling him to calm down, so things must not be as bad as they feel. He trusts Sam to not lie to him if something's horribly wrong. If he was badly wounded, Sam would try to calm him down, but he wouldn't try to convince Dean he was okay.
Dean forces himself to stop flailing, but he's still whimpering, and he realizes he's shivering now that he's stopped flopping about. “Hurts,” Dean hisses.
“Where does it hurt?” Sam asks.
“Everywhere,” Dean whines, panting hard, his teeth chattering like he's cold. In fact he is cold, now that he thinks about it. There's ice going through his veins, and that can't be good for the muscle spasms.
“Okay, you're going to be okay,” Sam says soothingly. “You've been out of it for a while, and I called around, got some info about imp bites.”
“Fuck,” Dean groans as he shivers so hard he bites his tongue. “It fucking bit me?”
“Are you cold?” Charlie asks.
Dean knows he was worried about her before, terrified something was happening to her, but he can't remember why. Now that he hears her voice, the part of his brain screaming at him that somebody else might be hurt finally settles.
“Yeah,” Dean says, and he swears his lips have to be blue. How can they not tell he's freezing instead of just a little cold? “Cold!” he whimpers.
He feels a blanket being thrown over him, Sam's arms still holding him down. He attempts opening his eyes again, and this time the light isn't stabbing into his brain, so he squints, sees Charlie hovering over him just out of flailing distance.
He'd hit something before. Shit. “Did I hit you?” Dean asks her.
“You hit Sam,” Charlie says with a wince.
“I'll live,” Sam says.
“Good,” Dean says, thankful for the distraction from the pain. “I hate it when you die.”
Sam chuckles, and Dean feels Sam's breath on the back of his head. He realizes Sam is lying behind him on the bed, arms wrapped around Dean from behind, and Sam's right leg is thrown over his to keep him from kicking.
“So, what the fuck?” Dean says through clenched teeth.
“It's not a well-known fact,” Sam says, “but imp saliva is toxic.”
“Fuck, now you tell me,” Dean says, the shivers and muscle spasms making him jerk, nearly make him bite his lip.
“It's gonna hurt like hell,” Sam says, and Dean snorts, “but it'll only last for a few hours, and you'll be okay.”
“Yay me,” Dean grumbles.
“I'm pretty sure the stick was tipped with spit, and then the one that jumped out of the car bit you in the chest,” Sam says.
“I felt that,” Dean says.
Charlie looks worried. He thinks she's not freaking out, but it looks like it's taking effort on her part to keep calm. He wants to comfort her, but it's all he can do to keep from crying from the pain and keeping up the conversation.
“From what I learned,” Sam continues, “it's a self-defense mechanism. It probably would've bitten Charlie had I not shot the first one, and when the other one bit you, it gave you a big enough dose to knock you right out.”
“You guys are okay?” Dean asks as he looks Charlie over. He can only see her from the waist up, but she looks okay.
“We're okay,” Sam reassures him. “And Charlie was awesome!”
Charlie blushes, and Dean wishes he could kiss her. The worried look on her face softens into something that looks like a little bit of pride. Dean figures she's taking his ability to speak as a good sign that he'll live.
“She knocked the fucker off you with the cattle prod, shocked it, then when it was rolling around in the dirt next to you, she hacked its head off with your hatchet,” Sam says, and Dean can hear how proud Sam is of Charlie.
“I knew you were a natural, baby,” Dean says with as much of a smile as he can with his teeth chattering.
“It was latched onto you,” Charlie says, her voice a little shaky, and it almost looks like she's about to cry, but she's obviously trying to keep it together. “That creepy little thing had teeth like a shark, and when you passed out, I thought...,” she says, then trails off, her lip wobbling a little.
“Charlie got done killing the fucker,” Sam says, “then she turns and rips your shirt open as I'm checking for a pulse. As soon as I say you're alive, she uses your shirt to wipe out the bite, probably saving you a few hours of more intense pain.”
“That's my girl,” Dean says, looking up at her with adoration he hopes she can see.
She lets out a watery chuckle, still keeping it together, but just barely. He knows she wants to be strong and brave. She's a tough girl and she did wonderfully.
“I'm still really cold,” Dean says. “I think I need somebody to share their body heat from the front since Sam's got my back, and it feels nice back there,” Dean says with as much of a grin as he can muster.
Charlie jumps up, takes her shoes off, and climbs under the covers, snuggling up against Dean, burying her head under his chin, wrapping her left arm around him, her right arm scrunched up in between them.
“Mmm,” Dean moans. “Much better.”
“I'm not sure how long it's going to last,” Sam says, “but what you're feeling now should be the worst of it.”
Dean moans. He really should be happy. It hurts like hell, just like Sam said it would, but Dean had learned long ago that things could always get worse, so he soaks up the warmth offered by the two people who love him most in the world and tries to focus on them rather than the pain.
He starts to lose his focus, thought, and the muscle spasms get worse, his body jerking, and he whimpers as he tries to pick something to focus on.
“Once upon a time,” Charlie starts, “a very brave woman named Codex had been imprisoned and sentenced to execution in a town named Helgen. Just as she's being led out to be executed, a dragon attacks the town, destroying it. Codex escapes, making her way to a city named Whiterun.”
Dean's instantly focused on Charlie's words. He knows what she's trying to do, and he could kiss her for helping him. He has no idea what she's talking about, but it sounds interesting, and it's working. His breathing is calming down, his muscles relaxing some even though they're still spasming and cramping, and he closes his eyes to create a visual of Charlie's story.
- - -
“Drink,” Sam insists, pointing at the tea on the table in front of Dean.
“It tastes like shit,” Dean whines, trying for pathetic, but Sam and Charlie both seem unimpressed.
He's still a little chilled, but he's feeling tons better than a few hours ago. Charlie has made him a sandwich, but for some reason, which Sam thoroughly explained and Dean paid no attention to, Sam says Dean needs to drink the horrible-tasting tea in front of him. And he's holding Dean's sandwich for ransom.
Dean grumbles, but finishes half the mug of tea. Sam sets the sandwich down as a reward, but taps his finger onto the table next to the mug, letting Dean know he needs to finish the tea.
Charlie tilts her head toward the manilla envelope on the kitchen table. “So?”
Sam picks it up, opens it, and pulls out a paper with a handwritten note on it. He holds the paper out, reading from it. “I never got the chance to tell your daddy how much I appreciated the phone call when my daughter Elaina died. John cleared out that imp infestation years ago, kept in touch every once in a while to see how we all were doing, and after he found out about Elaina, he called me to offer his condolences and asked if I needed anything.
That meant the world to me and Linda. I was so messed up at the time that I took his advice, his condolences, thanked him, and said goodbye. I found out a few months later that he died, and I wished I had given him a call, let him know how close I was to calling it quits and leaving behind a wife to grieve not only for her daughter, but also her husband. That would've been a very selfish move on my part.
What he said to me changed my life, and that debt can never be repaid. I hope you don't think I'm putting a price on what your daddy did for me, but Linda and I have done well for ourselves, we've talked about this, and we decided you boys and your daddy have dedicated your lives to doing what the rest of us can't, so we want you to have this.
The checkbook in the envelope goes to a account. Linda and I have switched the account over from a high-interest savings account to a checking account. We also switched the names on the account to the names on the IDs we left inside the checkbook with your pictures on them. You boys can either leave the money in the account and use the checks and debit cards or you can take the money and close the account.
I don't want to hear anything about it being too much. Linda and I had set a big initial amount of money aside for Elaina when she was born, put it in a savings account, added to it every month like clockwork, and paid into it even after she died because we couldn't bring ourselves to stop until shortly after your daddy died.
Elaina would've been seventeen by then. She'd wanted to be a doctor since she was about four years old. She'd broken her arm, and the local doctor fixed her up. From that moment on she wanted to help people like the doctor had helped her.
Elaina's gone, and I've made peace with that, but we want our baby's money to do good, and I can't think of anybody else who touched my life the way your daddy did or anybody who uses all their resources and damn near every ounce of themselves to save people who may never even know they were saved in the first place. It's a hell of a lot more thankless than being a doctor.
Don't be a stranger. If you boys pass through the state on your travels, stop in and stay. We'll set you up as long as you want. If we ever have anything else hinky happen around these parts, I'll be calling you.
Thanks again for everything, Randy and Linda Tulley.”
“Huh,” Dean grunts. He looks over at Charlie, sees her surreptitiously wipe a tear from her eye.
Sam shoves his hand into the envelope, looking at Dean. “I didn't realize Dad called Tulley every now and then, did you?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, but I did know Elaina died. Dad told me about it,” Dean says as Sam pulls the checkbook out.
“Oh, my god,” Sam breathes, turning white and holding himself up with a hand on the table.
“Care to share, Sammy?” Dean says.
“I, we can't, I d-don't,” Sam stutters, then shoves the checkbook into Dean's hands.
“Holy shit,” Dean whispers. He runs his hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes a bit, then looks at the number again. He looks up at Sam, at Charlie, then back to Sam. “You read the letter. You know him. You saw how he acted before he left. I... We have to take it. I can't believe this, but we can't tell him no.”
“The suspense is killing me here,” Charlie says, snatching the checkbook from Dean's hand.
“Holy shit,” Charlie gasps, then continues in a stunned monotone, “Six hundred and fifty-two thousand, five hundred and twelve dollars and forty-nine cents.”
“Dee,” Sam says, his mouth working like he wants to say something, anything, but he can't find the words.
Charlie starts laughing hysterically, and both Dean and Sam turn to look at her. She holds up the IDs with their faces smiling back at them.
“Stu Cook and Doug Clifford just got a shitload of money,” she says, barely controlling her laughter.
Dean snorts, then starts chuckling. “Tulley's a CCR fan.”
Sam's lips twitch into a grin. “I suppose John and Tom Fogerty would've been too obvious, huh?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, still too stunned to say much of anything.
“Can we do this?” Sam asks, sounding conflicted.
Charlie sets the IDs down on the table. “They've already changed the names on the account,” Charlie says. “Mr. and Mrs. Tulley can't get to this money anymore even if they wanted to. That seems like a pretty strong indicator that they want you to have it.”
“Well, I guess we don't have to worry about money for a while,” Dean says, a smile spreading across his lips.
Sam huffs. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” Dean says. Then he chuckles and points at Sam. “You've been doing the sad puppy face too many times over the years. It caught up with you. Is Sammy a good boy?” he asks in a ridiculous voice people use for their dogs.
Charlie snorts as Sam looks to where Dean is pointing and sees his own tail is wagging happily. “It's actually kind of twitching,” she says. “That's how cats show they're perturbed over something.”
“Actually,” Dean says, pausing for emphasis, “rats move their tails like that they're checking out something new.”
“Very funny,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.
Charlie giggles. “I'm so gonna start calling you Remy!”
Dean chuckles as he stands, his legs still a little shaky from what the imp toxin did to his muscles. He claps Sam's shoulder in mock concern. “Consider it a compliment that, while I hate most rats, I don't mind if you hang around, Sammy.”
- - -
Two weeks later they've settled into a routine of sorts. Sam has become quite the homemaker, still trying out new recipes while Charlie has been working on coding a new program, and Dean has been doing a spring cleaning of the bunker.
Dean's spent the last twenty-five minutes in the shower, enjoying the hot water after a day of dusting and mopping, and he still isn't done. He's in his pajama pants and a ratty old dark blue T-shirt, wishing he had socks on since his feet are a little cold as he walks from the kitchen to his room. He's taking gourmet sandwiches upstairs that Sam had worked on for a while.
Sam suggested Dean take the sandwiches to his room since he and Charlie had worked hard all day, and Dean was more than happy to do that.
Dean nearly drops the plates when he opens his door to see Charlie leaning against the bed in nothing but her strap-on and a black lacy bra. He regains his composure somewhat and manages to get the door closed, sets the plates on the dresser, and then turns to drool over Charlie.
“I wanna fuck you in your skirt,” Charlie says as she runs her hand over the dildo attached to her strap-on. “Please let me fuck your ass in your pretty new skirt,” she says, her voice getting deeper with arousal.
Dean's busy watching her fondle the dildo, which is new to them. It's dark gray, straight, and is more like a cock than the other two dildos they have for the strap-on. This one has a head like a normal cock, but then two more ridges that look like the ridge around the head of a cock. There are also vertical rows of ridges starting at the frenulum and going to the base of the dildo.
He shakes himself out of the staring contest with the dildo to look at Charlie. “Uhm, oh, yeah!” he says as he gets a mental picture of himself being fucked in the skirt and decides he really likes the idea. “Hell, yeah!”
Dean nearly rips the sleep pants off, pulls the shirt off, tossing both pieces of clothing into the corner of the room the moment he has them off.
“Do you want me to wear panties?” he asks as he gets the skirt out of his dresser drawer, his cock already half hard.
“No, just the skirt,” Charlie says, and Dean can only describe Charlie's voice as sultry.
He had been so excited over getting into the skirt, he hadn't thought to give Charlie a little strip tease, so he makes a mental note to do that next time. He steps into the skirt, pulls it up his hips, then zips and fastens it, closing the drawer quickly.
“Do you want me to wear a top or just the skirt?” he asks, looking at her over his shoulder, his hand still on the handle of the drawer.
“Just the skirt,” Charlie repeats. “I want you to put your hands on the desk, stick your ass out toward me, and spread your legs.
Dean nearly trips over himself obeying her. She makes him feel so sexy, so comfortable. He arches his back some, pushes his ass out, and spreads his legs to about shoulder width.
“Mmm, yeah, like that,” Charlie moans.
Dean knows that moan. It's the one that means she's enjoyed something enough that her clit has twitched. It thrills him to know that the sight of him like this is what did it for her.
She doesn't have shoes on, but he hears her come up behind him, her feet making soft sounds on the floor. He shivers when she runs a finger down his back, then up to his left shoulder.
“You look so pretty in this skirt, Dee,” Charlie says, affection heavy in her tone of voice. Her hand smooths over his left side, down the side of his skirt, then tickles his left upper thigh. “Oh, fuck, yes! When did you shave?” Charlie asks, her voice so thick with arousal suddenly that Dean goes from hard to painfully hard.
“I did it just now in the shower,” Dean says, a little smirk on his face. He knew it would surprise her, but he didn't know how excited over it she'd be.
“Your legs are so soft,” she says, and from where her voice is coming from, he can tell she's crouching behind him. She runs her fingers over his calves and thighs.
“Mmm,” Dean moans, and suddenly all his nervousness about having shaved his legs in the first place dies away.
Dean hisses as Charlie licks the back of his right thigh, working her way up to his right ass cheek, giving him a quick bite, then kissing the skin she bit.
“Beautiful,” she breathes out over his skin. “Such a beautiful girl.”
Dean shivers, feeling more exposed in just the skirt than if he'd been naked. The material is skating across his ass cheeks, his dick, and his thighs, and he feels like he's being objectified in a good way because Charlie's so focused on him.
Charlie stands back up, and he hears her walk somewhere over to his right. He hears her moving the mirror, and when he looks, he feels a pulse of arousal run through him. She's turning the mirror and setting it up against the wall so that they can watch everything.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes. He looks at himself in the mirror. He likes the way the skirt falls over his ass, brushes against his upper thighs. He can't wait to see the two of them fucking in the mirror.
Charlie finishes moving the mirror and grins at him. “Thought you might like that,” she says, then stalks back over to him.
She snatches the bottle of lube from the top of the dresser. Dean had been so carefully attentive to what Charlie was doing that he hadn't noticed the bottle until she grabbed it.
He hears Charlie walk behind him, but when he turns to look at them in the mirror, she's standing a few feet behind him, looking him over head to toe. Dean pushes his ass out a little more, knowing that she's watching, and he grins when he sees her bite her lip as her eyes focus on his ass.
Dean watches her step forward, then use her index finger to catch just the edge of his skirt and raise it. She's still standing back a bit, and it looks so hot to see her peeking under his skirt that he has to push down on his erection to back his arousal off some.
“Perfect ass,” Charlie says, almost like she's just making a comment to herself.
Dean watches as she flips the rest of the skirt up over his lower back, then she pours some lube onto her fingers. He moans loudly when she shoves two fingers into him. It's a burning stretch, but she would never hurt him. And Dean gets a kick out of imagining that Charlie's so ready to fuck him that she can't go slowly.
He gasps when she pushes a third finger in. She hasn't been stretching him more than a few seconds, so three fingers is burning enough to make his thighs quiver. Dean likes sex, rough or otherwise, and so he just arches his back more to make a better target for Charlie.
“Good girl,” Charlie whispers.
She finds his prostate and pushes down hard with a stroke over it. Dean yelps so loudly that he sees Charlie's eyes widen and she pauses.
“I'm okay,” Dean says. “Felt really good,” he says with a chuckle.
Charlie smiles at him in the mirror. “Awesome,” she says, giving him two more rough strokes over his prostate before she pulls her fingers out. “Ready?”
Dean nods. “Fuck me,” he says, widening his stance a little more. He then lets out another yelp as Charlie smacks his right ass cheek.
“That wasn't very polite or lady-like,” Charlie scolds.
“Sorry, ma'am,” Dean says, a smirk on his face. “Please fuck me,” he moans out in a tone of voice he knows gets to her, turns her on quickly.
It has the desired effect. Her eyes close for a moment, and Dean knows if he was close enough to touch, he'd feel a little tremor run through her body.
“Much better,” Charlie says.
Dean hisses as Charlie starts to push into him. She's not being rough, but she's pushing in steadily, not thrusting in and out to give him a chance to adjust. He breathes through it, enjoying the burn, trying to relax his asshole to let her in.
“I think I like this easy access thing,” Charlie says as she starts fucking in and out of him, ruffling Dean's skirt, then reaching under the front to play with his balls.
Dean huffs. “I'm seeing the appeal,” he says, watching them in the mirror.
He can't decide whether he wants to watch Charlie's face, the dildo fucking him, or Charlie's hand disappearing under his skirt to gently tug and roll his balls. He keeps lingering on her face, though, because he loves watching her really enjoying herself.
Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is gently swaying with each movement, her tits are bouncing just a little each time she bottoms out in Dean's ass. She's beautiful, and he can't believe she's his. That she looks the way she does right now, glowing with lust and arousal, because of him.
“I'm not tall enough to hit your prostate,” Charlie says, looking down at his ass and frowning. “Spread your legs some more for me.”
Dean spreads his legs wide, and Charlie makes a happy little moan of appreciation. She swivels her hips around a few times, getting up on her toes and back down again trying to get the right spot. He gasps when she hits his prostate.
“There's the spot I was looking for,” Charlie coos, her right hand moving to his cock.
There's no lube on her hand, so it's more of a tugging sensation than anything else, but he doesn't care, and when she runs her thumb over the tip of his dick, he hisses through his clenched teeth.
Charlie chuckles deeply, her voice sounding wrecked. “We're going to have to clean this skirt if you get it all messy,” she sing-songs.
“Please,” Dean begs. “Faster, please!” he whines as he tries to thrust back at Charlie.
“Mmm, you're close already, aren't you,” she says, fully aware she's driving him crazy with the slow thrusting.
She speeds up and Dean lets out a sob of relief. “Yeah, that,” he says, meeting her thrusts.
Charlie leans over and kisses his spine between his shoulder blades, her left hand reaching around to tweak his nipple. The things she does to him, how high she gets him is almost scary to him.
Sure, he's been with a lot of women, but he's never had anyone play him like an accomplished musician plays an instrument before. She gets him inside and out, and considering they haven't known each other a relatively long time, it's enough to convince him that maybe some of what he thought of romance when he was a kid is true.
There are no fairy tales. Nothing's ever perfect. There's always going to be problems. But what they have so far, so early in the game? It's magical.
“I want to hear you come,” Charlie says, thrusting faster, punching a grunt out of Dean when she hits his prostate on an in-stroke. “I want to hear you fall apart while I'm fucking you,” she growls, and the grip and stroking on his dick is just to the right side of awesome. “I want you to get this skirt so messy that we'll have no choice but to wash it.”
Dean moans long and hard, his legs trembling from the position he's in and the fucking he's getting. His nails are digging into the wood of his dresser, his teeth are clenched, and he's panting.
“Or maybe I'll make you wear it like that,” Charlie says with a very evil tone to her voice. “Yeah. That's what I'll do. I'll make you wear your messy skirt with nothing on under it so I can take a peek any time I want.”
“Oh, fuck,” Dean growls.
“I'll make you do the dishes in nothing but the skirt,” Charlie whispers and Dean whimpers. “I'll stand back and watch as you wash each and every single piece of dinnerware while I cop a feel any time I want, and I'll lift your pretty little skirt as I walk by so I can pinch that beautiful ass, making you squirm and squeak.”
Dean's eyes are closed. He's not bothering to look in the mirror anymore. He's drowning in her words, the visual she's giving him. Her hips are smacking into his ass, the dildo is making an obscene noise as it fucks in and out of him, and Dean's whimpering is turning into a keening sound.
“You'll be working so hard for me,” Charlie continues, twisting her hips to catch his prostate every once in a while. “And if you miss a spot, I'll use a spatula to smack that little ass of yours.”
Dean makes a moaning noise he swears he's never made before. It's so wanton, so fucking aroused that he's amazed it came from him.
“Then I'll slither around down by your legs,” she says, scratching her nails down his spine, not hard enough to break the skin, but it's enough to make him squirm. “Then I'll suck you off while you finish washing the dishes, my legs spread wide and my fingers in my pussy as you try not to break all the dishes you're washing.”
Dean's whole body tenses. Her comment about her fingers in her pussy pushed him close enough to the edge that the next hit on his prostate he's coming so hard he yells. “Charlie! Fuck, oh, fuck, Charlie!” he yells as he comes, and he feels her fingers holding his dick under the skirt, making sure he's coming all over the underside of the skirt.
She fucks him hard through his orgasm, his legs shaking so hard he grabs onto the dresser tighter so he doesn't fall. A noise like a sob comes out of him as he comes down, his body oversensitized and floating on a haze of awesome feelings.
Charlie kisses him on his back again, then uses her left hand to hold onto his hip. “My turn,” she says, and now that he's looking in the mirror again, he sees a big grin on her face.
Dean hisses as she starts fucking him harder. He's thankful she's not doing anything to his dick other than holding it. They've played with that a few times, but they've never done it while he's standing, and he doesn't know if he'd be able to keep himself upright if she stroked him while he's so sensitive.
He watches her in the mirror, looking at the way her legs are moving, the muscles in her thighs and calves, the side of her right ass cheek. “You're so fucking sexy,” he tells her.
He makes eye contact with her in the mirror, sees that she's glistening a little with sweat. She's so damned beautiful that he could never find the right way to tell her exactly how he feels.
“So beautiful,” he groans. “Love watching your ass and thigh while you fuck me. Wanna bite that ass,” he says with a grin.
“Mmm, I'll take you up on that later,” she says with a wink, her voice sounding even more wrecked than it had a few minutes ago.
“I wanna lick you clean,” Dean says, watching the dildo fucking him again, thinking about how the other end of that is fucking her pussy. “I wanna spread you wide and make you come again after you're done fucking me. I wanna shove my tongue as far inside as I can, and then I wanna suck on your clit until you come all over my face.”
“Fuck, Dee! Yeah!” Charlie yelps as she starts coming.
She's fucking him so hard that it's a little painful, but it's totally worth it to watch her fall apart, her rhythm slipping, her eyes falling closed, her mouth open as she pants and moans her way through her orgasm.
Before she's even done coming, he pulls off of her dildo, turns, picks her up, and tosses her on the bed. Her eyes are wide, but she's got a grin on her face. Dean shoves her legs apart, then undoes the buckles of her strap-on.
He gently pulls the dildo out of her, drops it onto the floor next to the bed. She's still panting, her thighs shaking. He gets down onto his knees next to the bed, then pulls her closer, her ass hanging halfway off the edge of the bed.
She yelps as he shoves his tongue into her pussy. “Oh, Dee, yeah, that tongue, yeah, it's, fuck!” Charlie groans as she pushes her pussy into his face, trying to get more.
Dean moans into her, then he can't help but smile a little as he feels her shiver underneath him. She's making little 'oh, oh' sounds that are giving him a semi again already.
He's learned the combinations she likes, how hard she likes certain things, how soft she likes others, and he keeps her off balance a bit as he flicks her clit too softly to make her come, shoves the flat of his tongue over her clit hard enough to back her off of the edge, then goes right back to flicking her clit just the way she likes. He wants to make her beg. And by the way her thighs are trembling, she's about to break and beg to come.
A staccato keening sound comes from what sounds like her open mouth, and Dean gives himself a pat on the back for getting her to the point where he knows she's wasted enough on arousal to have her eyes closed, her arms thrown out to the sides, and her mouth agape.
He doesn't even need to see her to know she's got her head tilted back, arching her neck and back, her stomach and chest heaving, and cute little frown lines appearing on her forehead because what she really wants to do is demand he get her off, but she's not quite frustrated enough to voice her demand.
“Dee, please!” Charlie finally breaks. “Please! I wanna come! Please make me come! Please! Oh!” she begs in a voice that's flipping back and forth between growly and breathy, her voice cracking on a few of the words.
Dean shoves his tongue into her hole, ignoring her clit for the moment, knowing it'll make her even more demanding at this point. He wiggles his tongue, then fucks it in and out at a pace that's not too fast, not too slow.
Her legs fall even further apart, her hips tilting to give him more room even though he has plenty, and he knows she's trying to get him deeper now that his tongue is in her hole, but he's not going to use his fingers yet.
Charlie lets out a loud growl of frustration. “I know what you're doing, Dee Winchester!”
Dean is so surprised by hearing his new full name that he pauses for a moment. It's the first time anyone has said “her” full name. His eyes burn, but he goes back to pleasuring Charlie. He doesn't want her to know how much that affected him.
He decides he really likes it. He wants it. He suddenly has a strong urge to change the name on a few of his IDs to read Dee Winchester. Okay, maybe Dee Winchester on just an ID that he keeps in his dresser drawer to take out and stare at every now and then. But it feels so right, and he has a craving for hearing it again, seeing it written down like it's something permanent.
Dean flicks his tongue against her clit, and he hears Charlie's voice change from whining to encouraging.
“Yeah!” she says, then makes a happy “mmm” sound. “Right there. Fuck, yeah. I wanna come, Dee. Please make me come!”
He works on her clit, doing it just the way he knows she likes best when she's about to come. Her thighs are shaking again, and she moves her feet to his shoulders, something he really likes because he can feel her toes flexing, digging into his shoulders like she can draw him closer, get him further inside.
Her body shifts, and when he takes a peek up at her, she's gotten to her elbows so she can watch him. She's panting hard, her chest heaving, and her teeth are clenched. Her hair's all over the place from writhing on the bed, and she looks gorgeous.
Dean picks up speed, flicking her clit as fast as he can, and he feels her pussy clenching as she starts coming.
“Dee!” Charlie growls, and he watches her as she tries to keep eye contact with him, the little frown lines on her forehead making an appearance again. “Fuck! Yeah! Dee!” Charlie screams as she comes.
She finally loses the battle of keeping eye contact with him as her eyes slam shut and she flops backward on the bed, her belly and hips twitching up at him.
He licks her through her orgasm, gentling as she comes down, then softly licks out her hole so he can taste more of her, but keeping it slow and soft so it doesn't stimulate her already oversensitized pussy too much.
“Wanna kiss you,” Charlie says.
Dean looks up to see her hands are outstretched, her fingers doing grabby hands, and he chuckles as he stands up. She scoots back on the bed to give him room to get on his knees on the end of the bed. He puts his hands on the bed on either side of her chest, leans down, and shares the last lick of her pussy with her.
She loves tasting herself on him, and he gets a huge kick out of her loving tasting herself on him. She sucks on his tongue, moaning and squirming beneath him. Her tongue flits about in his mouth, running along the roof of his mouth.
He slides off to her right side, wrapping his right leg over hers, his right arm wrapping around her tummy, and he rests his head on her right arm, snuggling in.
“Somebody's hard again,” Charlie sing-songs, her voice completely wrecked.
“Mmm, yeah, because you're so fucking hot,” Dean mumbles into her neck.
He lets his right hand wander from her belly down to her pussy, and she squeaks when he gently pushes his fingers between her lips. She doesn't pull away, so he uses his middle and ring fingers to gently push into her hole, keeping away from her clit because she's still sensitive.
Dean pushes his hard cock into her hip, riding it lazily as he slowly fingerfucks her. He doesn't know if either one of them will come again. He's just content to still have the connection, to feel her body beneath his, relaxing and melting against him.
She turns her head, snuffling his hair and making him smile. He tilts his head, looks up at her, and she smiles, her beautiful green eyes so close he feels like he can fall into them. She kisses the tip of his nose, making him chuckle.
“You gonna come again?” she asks, one eyebrow raising.
“Don't care,” he mumbles, leaning in for a kiss.
They kiss for what seems like forever. It's not hungry, not rough. It's just a lazy and casual kiss that's more comforting and connecting than arousing.
“Mmm,” Charlie moans into his mouth as he fingerfucks her a little faster.
He enjoys hearing her react to him, so he uses his thumb to ease her clit into being stimulated again. She tries to spread her legs for him, but since his leg is flung over her right leg, she plants her left foot on the bed and lets her leg fall open.
Dean pushes a little harder into her hip, his cock letting out a little precome, but not much since he's already come once. He likes the feeling of the head of his dick catching on her skin, and when she reaches down with her left hand to play with the head of his cock, he moans into her mouth.
She can't reach his whole cock because of the position they're in, but she massages the head with her hand and fingers, and it feels great as he continues thrusting a little.
They don't say anything, their lips still engaged in kissing. The kiss becomes more intense as the two of them get more and more aroused. Charlie's not moving her body much, just lying back and enjoying the fingerfucking, her left hand working Dean's cock head.
Dean starts fucking into her side harder, his thumb rubbing her clit in a circular motion, his own hips thrusting harder. Charlie changes her hand position enough to jerk off the very end of his cock, and between the dragging sensation he's getting from rubbing against her body and the stimulation at the end of his dick, he's coming, thrusting into her and, against her body, shaking and moaning as Charlie's hand gets so messy with jizz that he can feel the slick as he fucks up into her hand.
By the time his hips slow down, he feels Charlie's hips pushing down on his hand. He moves his hand a little faster, still kissing her, though his own hips have slowed to a very gentle swaying.
She comes with a keening noise, her hips stuttering, her body making a lazy rolling wave motion more than jerking, and her hand squeezing the tip of his dick just enough to make him yelp into her mouth.
Charlie breaks the kiss, and he smirks when he sees she's got a very satisfied smile on her lips. He pulls his fingers out of her, then pushes them into his mouth, making sure she's watching.
“Mmm, I love when you do that,” she moans.
He makes a bit of a show out of it for her, groaning around his fingers, sucking on them. When he's licked them clean, he pulls his fingers out and wraps his arm around her again. He snuggles into her neck and breathes in her scent, feels the warmth of her body seeping into his as their bodies relax into happy, sated puddles.
They lie there for a while, not saying anything, and Dean's eyes close. He's just about to fall asleep when he hears Charlie.
“Dee?” she says softly.
“Yeah, baby?” he replies, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I love you,” she says, and it's not said softly like his name, but rather it's with confidence and conviction.
Dean moans as he lifts his head, looking down at her and smiling. He kisses her gently, letting her know how he feels through the passion in the kiss. She's his, and this confirms it more than ever. He feels his chest swell with emotion and excitement and another empty space filling inside him that he didn't even know existed. He wasn't waiting for her to say she loved him, but now that she's said it, he wonders how he lived without it before.
“I love you,” he says when he pulls away, looking her in the eye, and hoping she knows he's saying it because he means it, not just as a response to her declaration.
She smiles up at him, looking so happy, as if she knows he really means it, that he just has to kiss her again. She pulls away, then grabs the throw blanket that had been tossed to the side while he ate her out. She tries to get it up and over their bodies, but Dean sees her flailing a bit, so he helps, and they get it spread out over the two of them.
They settle, comfortable wrapped up in each other, their heads both falling back down, and Dean nuzzling into her neck again.
He smiles. “I think I love you more, though,” he says, then kisses her neck.
Charlie giggles. “Hmm, I don't think that's possible, because I really think I love you more.”
“We'll have to fight about it in the morning,” Dean mumbles.
“Ooh,” Charlie coos. “Our first fight. Can we have make-up sex?” she asks, her voice low and sounding like she's already half asleep.
“Totally,” Dean mumbles, nearly asleep himself.
- - -
It's a week later, and Sam and Dean have had a long discussion without Charlie there, talking about the pros and cons of including Charlie in the names on the bank accounts.
Dean's somewhat leery of it, and Sam is to some degree as well. But in the end Sam makes the argument that if Charlie really wanted to take the money and run, she could probably do it whether her name was on the account or not because of her computer skills, and Dean makes the argument that even if she were to go ahead and split with the money, they'd been fine all their lives without Tulley's money and they'd be okay if it was gone again.
It's worth it to Sam and Dean also in the sense that if something happens to one or more of them, any surviving members of their trio would be able to get at the money.
Dean and Sam don't think Charlie would cut and run, but because of their lives, and Dean's “abandonment issues,” as Sam calls them, it's necessary to talk about the money situation.
They find her in the library, and Dean sets the bag of cash on the library table, Sam spreading their various ID cards and paperwork out next to the bag of cash.
“I don't know about this,” Charlie says after they explain everything to her, and her eyes widen as she looks between Sam and Dean.
She stands up from her favorite overstuffed chair, leaving her laptop behind, and she walks over to the library table, glancing over the IDs.
“This is a huge responsibility,” she says, her arms going out to the side to demonstrate how ginormous the responsibility is. “Why would you trust me not to skip out with all your money?” she asks, a grimace on her face.
Dean walks over to her, wraps his arms around her, and kisses her temple. “We'd rather take the risk than not. If something ever happens to one or both of us, we'd want you to have the money anyway,” he says, feeling her tense in his arms when he mentions the possibility of something happening to them.
“If you really don't want this to happen,” Sam says with his mediator-slash-laywer face on, as Dean likes to call it, “we won't do this, but we've talked about it,” nodding toward Dean. “We'd like to do this for a lot of reasons, and if you ever change your mind, we can make changes. If you ever decide living with Dee or the both of us is not for you, we'll work it out if it happens.”
Dean pulls out of his hug enough to look down at Charlie, still keeping his left arm around her. “I'd rather that not happen because I really like having you around,” he says, and his chest swells with affection when he sees a blush wash over her cheeks and a little smile twitching onto her lips, “but it's always a possibility, and neither of us want you to feel like you're chained to us. I mean it,” Dean says, looking her in the eye to make sure she really gets this.
She's quiet for a moment, and Dean gives her time to digest the information. Then a big grin spreads across her lips. “You really trust me this much? You want me here this much?” she asks, her voice so hopeful, so full of wonder that it tugs at Dean's heart.
“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling down at her, “I do.”
Sam clears his throat to get their attention. “And I do too,” he says with a smirk.
Charlie giggles, and the look she gives Sam melts Dean's heart. The three of them are becoming a little family here in the bunker, and Dean's thrilled about it.
So all three of them go into three separate big-name banks, spreading Tulley's money between the three banks. All of them are signers on each of the accounts, yet any one of them can walk into any of the banks and withdraw every bit of the money.
They had decided to dress up fairly nicely so that they would look presentable in the banks. Charlie had worn a sundress with a fitted top and broomstick bottom in dark green with deep purple abstract flowers.
Dean and Sam had worn their best jeans, which in both cases were black and had no holes, and instead of shirts and flannels, they wore button down dress shirts from their suits, Dean's being dark maroon and Sam's chocolate brown with little flecks of black throughout the shirt.
As they walk out of the last bank, Sam hands Dean and Charlie each two hundred dollars, then holds up another two hundred dollars, waving it in their faces.
Sam's grin is infectious. “I say we celebrate by going to a restaurant where the napkins are cloth instead of paper and there are real tablecloths instead of red-and-white-checked plastic.”
Dean pats his stomach. “I could go for a steak,” he says.
Charlie smacks Dean's arm. “Sam said real napkins, so that means you can have a steak, but you also get it topped with sauteed onions and mushrooms and it's drizzled with a sauce that has so many calories that they'll refuse to tell you the caloric count!”
“See!” Sam says, smacking Dean's arm in the same spot Charlie had. “She knows how to do celebrating with a nice restaurant,” he says with a mock scowl.
Dean knows this about Charlie, and he loves it about her. He's wanted to take her out to a nice restaurant, knowing she'd appreciate it, and even though this isn't a date between the two of them, Dean's happy to be celebrating with her and Sam.
“We already got all gussied up to look credible at the banks,” Dean says, gesturing toward each of them, and Charlie strikes a pose, showing off her black-strapped wedge shoes. “Why not?” he says, heading off toward the car.
- - -
Next: Part 6
-
Part 5
Dean wakes to pain all throughout his body. He hasn't opened his eyes, but he wants to cry because it just hurts so badly. He hears himself whimpering, but he can't stop himself. It's everywhere. He can't pinpoint any area in his body that hurts worse than another, which makes it hard to control his reaction to it.
He tries. He really does. But not having a focus point makes him flounder, and he knows he hits something with his hand, and he starts to panic when he feels his arms being held down.
Dean opens his eyes, then squeezes them closed again because the light makes the pain in his eyes even worse. He's kicking his feet, writhing around, but something's holding him securely.
He finally hears someone talking to him. He wants to listen. He knows it's important. The voice is demanding he listen, but he hurts so badly all over, and he's trapped by arms wrapped around him, and he's scared because this just isn't right.
“Calm down, Dee,” Dean hears Sam's voice say near his right ear, feels the warmth of breath ghosting over his ear. “It's me. It's Sam. You're okay. You're in Tulley's house, in his bed. I'm right here. Charlie's here. You just need to calm down. You're okay.”
There's shooting pain going everywhere. He thinks his muscles are contracting, because it feels like his whole body is one giant charleyhorse. Sam's telling him to calm down, so things must not be as bad as they feel. He trusts Sam to not lie to him if something's horribly wrong. If he was badly wounded, Sam would try to calm him down, but he wouldn't try to convince Dean he was okay.
Dean forces himself to stop flailing, but he's still whimpering, and he realizes he's shivering now that he's stopped flopping about. “Hurts,” Dean hisses.
“Where does it hurt?” Sam asks.
“Everywhere,” Dean whines, panting hard, his teeth chattering like he's cold. In fact he is cold, now that he thinks about it. There's ice going through his veins, and that can't be good for the muscle spasms.
“Okay, you're going to be okay,” Sam says soothingly. “You've been out of it for a while, and I called around, got some info about imp bites.”
“Fuck,” Dean groans as he shivers so hard he bites his tongue. “It fucking bit me?”
“Are you cold?” Charlie asks.
Dean knows he was worried about her before, terrified something was happening to her, but he can't remember why. Now that he hears her voice, the part of his brain screaming at him that somebody else might be hurt finally settles.
“Yeah,” Dean says, and he swears his lips have to be blue. How can they not tell he's freezing instead of just a little cold? “Cold!” he whimpers.
He feels a blanket being thrown over him, Sam's arms still holding him down. He attempts opening his eyes again, and this time the light isn't stabbing into his brain, so he squints, sees Charlie hovering over him just out of flailing distance.
He'd hit something before. Shit. “Did I hit you?” Dean asks her.
“You hit Sam,” Charlie says with a wince.
“I'll live,” Sam says.
“Good,” Dean says, thankful for the distraction from the pain. “I hate it when you die.”
Sam chuckles, and Dean feels Sam's breath on the back of his head. He realizes Sam is lying behind him on the bed, arms wrapped around Dean from behind, and Sam's right leg is thrown over his to keep him from kicking.
“So, what the fuck?” Dean says through clenched teeth.
“It's not a well-known fact,” Sam says, “but imp saliva is toxic.”
“Fuck, now you tell me,” Dean says, the shivers and muscle spasms making him jerk, nearly make him bite his lip.
“It's gonna hurt like hell,” Sam says, and Dean snorts, “but it'll only last for a few hours, and you'll be okay.”
“Yay me,” Dean grumbles.
“I'm pretty sure the stick was tipped with spit, and then the one that jumped out of the car bit you in the chest,” Sam says.
“I felt that,” Dean says.
Charlie looks worried. He thinks she's not freaking out, but it looks like it's taking effort on her part to keep calm. He wants to comfort her, but it's all he can do to keep from crying from the pain and keeping up the conversation.
“From what I learned,” Sam continues, “it's a self-defense mechanism. It probably would've bitten Charlie had I not shot the first one, and when the other one bit you, it gave you a big enough dose to knock you right out.”
“You guys are okay?” Dean asks as he looks Charlie over. He can only see her from the waist up, but she looks okay.
“We're okay,” Sam reassures him. “And Charlie was awesome!”
Charlie blushes, and Dean wishes he could kiss her. The worried look on her face softens into something that looks like a little bit of pride. Dean figures she's taking his ability to speak as a good sign that he'll live.
“She knocked the fucker off you with the cattle prod, shocked it, then when it was rolling around in the dirt next to you, she hacked its head off with your hatchet,” Sam says, and Dean can hear how proud Sam is of Charlie.
“I knew you were a natural, baby,” Dean says with as much of a smile as he can with his teeth chattering.
“It was latched onto you,” Charlie says, her voice a little shaky, and it almost looks like she's about to cry, but she's obviously trying to keep it together. “That creepy little thing had teeth like a shark, and when you passed out, I thought...,” she says, then trails off, her lip wobbling a little.
“Charlie got done killing the fucker,” Sam says, “then she turns and rips your shirt open as I'm checking for a pulse. As soon as I say you're alive, she uses your shirt to wipe out the bite, probably saving you a few hours of more intense pain.”
“That's my girl,” Dean says, looking up at her with adoration he hopes she can see.
She lets out a watery chuckle, still keeping it together, but just barely. He knows she wants to be strong and brave. She's a tough girl and she did wonderfully.
“I'm still really cold,” Dean says. “I think I need somebody to share their body heat from the front since Sam's got my back, and it feels nice back there,” Dean says with as much of a grin as he can muster.
Charlie jumps up, takes her shoes off, and climbs under the covers, snuggling up against Dean, burying her head under his chin, wrapping her left arm around him, her right arm scrunched up in between them.
“Mmm,” Dean moans. “Much better.”
“I'm not sure how long it's going to last,” Sam says, “but what you're feeling now should be the worst of it.”
Dean moans. He really should be happy. It hurts like hell, just like Sam said it would, but Dean had learned long ago that things could always get worse, so he soaks up the warmth offered by the two people who love him most in the world and tries to focus on them rather than the pain.
He starts to lose his focus, thought, and the muscle spasms get worse, his body jerking, and he whimpers as he tries to pick something to focus on.
“Once upon a time,” Charlie starts, “a very brave woman named Codex had been imprisoned and sentenced to execution in a town named Helgen. Just as she's being led out to be executed, a dragon attacks the town, destroying it. Codex escapes, making her way to a city named Whiterun.”
Dean's instantly focused on Charlie's words. He knows what she's trying to do, and he could kiss her for helping him. He has no idea what she's talking about, but it sounds interesting, and it's working. His breathing is calming down, his muscles relaxing some even though they're still spasming and cramping, and he closes his eyes to create a visual of Charlie's story.
- - -
“Drink,” Sam insists, pointing at the tea on the table in front of Dean.
“It tastes like shit,” Dean whines, trying for pathetic, but Sam and Charlie both seem unimpressed.
He's still a little chilled, but he's feeling tons better than a few hours ago. Charlie has made him a sandwich, but for some reason, which Sam thoroughly explained and Dean paid no attention to, Sam says Dean needs to drink the horrible-tasting tea in front of him. And he's holding Dean's sandwich for ransom.
Dean grumbles, but finishes half the mug of tea. Sam sets the sandwich down as a reward, but taps his finger onto the table next to the mug, letting Dean know he needs to finish the tea.
Charlie tilts her head toward the manilla envelope on the kitchen table. “So?”
Sam picks it up, opens it, and pulls out a paper with a handwritten note on it. He holds the paper out, reading from it. “I never got the chance to tell your daddy how much I appreciated the phone call when my daughter Elaina died. John cleared out that imp infestation years ago, kept in touch every once in a while to see how we all were doing, and after he found out about Elaina, he called me to offer his condolences and asked if I needed anything.
That meant the world to me and Linda. I was so messed up at the time that I took his advice, his condolences, thanked him, and said goodbye. I found out a few months later that he died, and I wished I had given him a call, let him know how close I was to calling it quits and leaving behind a wife to grieve not only for her daughter, but also her husband. That would've been a very selfish move on my part.
What he said to me changed my life, and that debt can never be repaid. I hope you don't think I'm putting a price on what your daddy did for me, but Linda and I have done well for ourselves, we've talked about this, and we decided you boys and your daddy have dedicated your lives to doing what the rest of us can't, so we want you to have this.
The checkbook in the envelope goes to a account. Linda and I have switched the account over from a high-interest savings account to a checking account. We also switched the names on the account to the names on the IDs we left inside the checkbook with your pictures on them. You boys can either leave the money in the account and use the checks and debit cards or you can take the money and close the account.
I don't want to hear anything about it being too much. Linda and I had set a big initial amount of money aside for Elaina when she was born, put it in a savings account, added to it every month like clockwork, and paid into it even after she died because we couldn't bring ourselves to stop until shortly after your daddy died.
Elaina would've been seventeen by then. She'd wanted to be a doctor since she was about four years old. She'd broken her arm, and the local doctor fixed her up. From that moment on she wanted to help people like the doctor had helped her.
Elaina's gone, and I've made peace with that, but we want our baby's money to do good, and I can't think of anybody else who touched my life the way your daddy did or anybody who uses all their resources and damn near every ounce of themselves to save people who may never even know they were saved in the first place. It's a hell of a lot more thankless than being a doctor.
Don't be a stranger. If you boys pass through the state on your travels, stop in and stay. We'll set you up as long as you want. If we ever have anything else hinky happen around these parts, I'll be calling you.
Thanks again for everything, Randy and Linda Tulley.”
“Huh,” Dean grunts. He looks over at Charlie, sees her surreptitiously wipe a tear from her eye.
Sam shoves his hand into the envelope, looking at Dean. “I didn't realize Dad called Tulley every now and then, did you?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, but I did know Elaina died. Dad told me about it,” Dean says as Sam pulls the checkbook out.
“Oh, my god,” Sam breathes, turning white and holding himself up with a hand on the table.
“Care to share, Sammy?” Dean says.
“I, we can't, I d-don't,” Sam stutters, then shoves the checkbook into Dean's hands.
“Holy shit,” Dean whispers. He runs his hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes a bit, then looks at the number again. He looks up at Sam, at Charlie, then back to Sam. “You read the letter. You know him. You saw how he acted before he left. I... We have to take it. I can't believe this, but we can't tell him no.”
“The suspense is killing me here,” Charlie says, snatching the checkbook from Dean's hand.
“Holy shit,” Charlie gasps, then continues in a stunned monotone, “Six hundred and fifty-two thousand, five hundred and twelve dollars and forty-nine cents.”
“Dee,” Sam says, his mouth working like he wants to say something, anything, but he can't find the words.
Charlie starts laughing hysterically, and both Dean and Sam turn to look at her. She holds up the IDs with their faces smiling back at them.
“Stu Cook and Doug Clifford just got a shitload of money,” she says, barely controlling her laughter.
Dean snorts, then starts chuckling. “Tulley's a CCR fan.”
Sam's lips twitch into a grin. “I suppose John and Tom Fogerty would've been too obvious, huh?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, still too stunned to say much of anything.
“Can we do this?” Sam asks, sounding conflicted.
Charlie sets the IDs down on the table. “They've already changed the names on the account,” Charlie says. “Mr. and Mrs. Tulley can't get to this money anymore even if they wanted to. That seems like a pretty strong indicator that they want you to have it.”
“Well, I guess we don't have to worry about money for a while,” Dean says, a smile spreading across his lips.
Sam huffs. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” Dean says. Then he chuckles and points at Sam. “You've been doing the sad puppy face too many times over the years. It caught up with you. Is Sammy a good boy?” he asks in a ridiculous voice people use for their dogs.
Charlie snorts as Sam looks to where Dean is pointing and sees his own tail is wagging happily. “It's actually kind of twitching,” she says. “That's how cats show they're perturbed over something.”
“Actually,” Dean says, pausing for emphasis, “rats move their tails like that they're checking out something new.”
“Very funny,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.
Charlie giggles. “I'm so gonna start calling you Remy!”
Dean chuckles as he stands, his legs still a little shaky from what the imp toxin did to his muscles. He claps Sam's shoulder in mock concern. “Consider it a compliment that, while I hate most rats, I don't mind if you hang around, Sammy.”
- - -
Two weeks later they've settled into a routine of sorts. Sam has become quite the homemaker, still trying out new recipes while Charlie has been working on coding a new program, and Dean has been doing a spring cleaning of the bunker.
Dean's spent the last twenty-five minutes in the shower, enjoying the hot water after a day of dusting and mopping, and he still isn't done. He's in his pajama pants and a ratty old dark blue T-shirt, wishing he had socks on since his feet are a little cold as he walks from the kitchen to his room. He's taking gourmet sandwiches upstairs that Sam had worked on for a while.
Sam suggested Dean take the sandwiches to his room since he and Charlie had worked hard all day, and Dean was more than happy to do that.
Dean nearly drops the plates when he opens his door to see Charlie leaning against the bed in nothing but her strap-on and a black lacy bra. He regains his composure somewhat and manages to get the door closed, sets the plates on the dresser, and then turns to drool over Charlie.
“I wanna fuck you in your skirt,” Charlie says as she runs her hand over the dildo attached to her strap-on. “Please let me fuck your ass in your pretty new skirt,” she says, her voice getting deeper with arousal.
Dean's busy watching her fondle the dildo, which is new to them. It's dark gray, straight, and is more like a cock than the other two dildos they have for the strap-on. This one has a head like a normal cock, but then two more ridges that look like the ridge around the head of a cock. There are also vertical rows of ridges starting at the frenulum and going to the base of the dildo.
He shakes himself out of the staring contest with the dildo to look at Charlie. “Uhm, oh, yeah!” he says as he gets a mental picture of himself being fucked in the skirt and decides he really likes the idea. “Hell, yeah!”
Dean nearly rips the sleep pants off, pulls the shirt off, tossing both pieces of clothing into the corner of the room the moment he has them off.
“Do you want me to wear panties?” he asks as he gets the skirt out of his dresser drawer, his cock already half hard.
“No, just the skirt,” Charlie says, and Dean can only describe Charlie's voice as sultry.
He had been so excited over getting into the skirt, he hadn't thought to give Charlie a little strip tease, so he makes a mental note to do that next time. He steps into the skirt, pulls it up his hips, then zips and fastens it, closing the drawer quickly.
“Do you want me to wear a top or just the skirt?” he asks, looking at her over his shoulder, his hand still on the handle of the drawer.
“Just the skirt,” Charlie repeats. “I want you to put your hands on the desk, stick your ass out toward me, and spread your legs.
Dean nearly trips over himself obeying her. She makes him feel so sexy, so comfortable. He arches his back some, pushes his ass out, and spreads his legs to about shoulder width.
“Mmm, yeah, like that,” Charlie moans.
Dean knows that moan. It's the one that means she's enjoyed something enough that her clit has twitched. It thrills him to know that the sight of him like this is what did it for her.
She doesn't have shoes on, but he hears her come up behind him, her feet making soft sounds on the floor. He shivers when she runs a finger down his back, then up to his left shoulder.
“You look so pretty in this skirt, Dee,” Charlie says, affection heavy in her tone of voice. Her hand smooths over his left side, down the side of his skirt, then tickles his left upper thigh. “Oh, fuck, yes! When did you shave?” Charlie asks, her voice so thick with arousal suddenly that Dean goes from hard to painfully hard.
“I did it just now in the shower,” Dean says, a little smirk on his face. He knew it would surprise her, but he didn't know how excited over it she'd be.
“Your legs are so soft,” she says, and from where her voice is coming from, he can tell she's crouching behind him. She runs her fingers over his calves and thighs.
“Mmm,” Dean moans, and suddenly all his nervousness about having shaved his legs in the first place dies away.
Dean hisses as Charlie licks the back of his right thigh, working her way up to his right ass cheek, giving him a quick bite, then kissing the skin she bit.
“Beautiful,” she breathes out over his skin. “Such a beautiful girl.”
Dean shivers, feeling more exposed in just the skirt than if he'd been naked. The material is skating across his ass cheeks, his dick, and his thighs, and he feels like he's being objectified in a good way because Charlie's so focused on him.
Charlie stands back up, and he hears her walk somewhere over to his right. He hears her moving the mirror, and when he looks, he feels a pulse of arousal run through him. She's turning the mirror and setting it up against the wall so that they can watch everything.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes. He looks at himself in the mirror. He likes the way the skirt falls over his ass, brushes against his upper thighs. He can't wait to see the two of them fucking in the mirror.
Charlie finishes moving the mirror and grins at him. “Thought you might like that,” she says, then stalks back over to him.
She snatches the bottle of lube from the top of the dresser. Dean had been so carefully attentive to what Charlie was doing that he hadn't noticed the bottle until she grabbed it.
He hears Charlie walk behind him, but when he turns to look at them in the mirror, she's standing a few feet behind him, looking him over head to toe. Dean pushes his ass out a little more, knowing that she's watching, and he grins when he sees her bite her lip as her eyes focus on his ass.
Dean watches her step forward, then use her index finger to catch just the edge of his skirt and raise it. She's still standing back a bit, and it looks so hot to see her peeking under his skirt that he has to push down on his erection to back his arousal off some.
“Perfect ass,” Charlie says, almost like she's just making a comment to herself.
Dean watches as she flips the rest of the skirt up over his lower back, then she pours some lube onto her fingers. He moans loudly when she shoves two fingers into him. It's a burning stretch, but she would never hurt him. And Dean gets a kick out of imagining that Charlie's so ready to fuck him that she can't go slowly.
He gasps when she pushes a third finger in. She hasn't been stretching him more than a few seconds, so three fingers is burning enough to make his thighs quiver. Dean likes sex, rough or otherwise, and so he just arches his back more to make a better target for Charlie.
“Good girl,” Charlie whispers.
She finds his prostate and pushes down hard with a stroke over it. Dean yelps so loudly that he sees Charlie's eyes widen and she pauses.
“I'm okay,” Dean says. “Felt really good,” he says with a chuckle.
Charlie smiles at him in the mirror. “Awesome,” she says, giving him two more rough strokes over his prostate before she pulls her fingers out. “Ready?”
Dean nods. “Fuck me,” he says, widening his stance a little more. He then lets out another yelp as Charlie smacks his right ass cheek.
“That wasn't very polite or lady-like,” Charlie scolds.
“Sorry, ma'am,” Dean says, a smirk on his face. “Please fuck me,” he moans out in a tone of voice he knows gets to her, turns her on quickly.
It has the desired effect. Her eyes close for a moment, and Dean knows if he was close enough to touch, he'd feel a little tremor run through her body.
“Much better,” Charlie says.
Dean hisses as Charlie starts to push into him. She's not being rough, but she's pushing in steadily, not thrusting in and out to give him a chance to adjust. He breathes through it, enjoying the burn, trying to relax his asshole to let her in.
“I think I like this easy access thing,” Charlie says as she starts fucking in and out of him, ruffling Dean's skirt, then reaching under the front to play with his balls.
Dean huffs. “I'm seeing the appeal,” he says, watching them in the mirror.
He can't decide whether he wants to watch Charlie's face, the dildo fucking him, or Charlie's hand disappearing under his skirt to gently tug and roll his balls. He keeps lingering on her face, though, because he loves watching her really enjoying herself.
Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is gently swaying with each movement, her tits are bouncing just a little each time she bottoms out in Dean's ass. She's beautiful, and he can't believe she's his. That she looks the way she does right now, glowing with lust and arousal, because of him.
“I'm not tall enough to hit your prostate,” Charlie says, looking down at his ass and frowning. “Spread your legs some more for me.”
Dean spreads his legs wide, and Charlie makes a happy little moan of appreciation. She swivels her hips around a few times, getting up on her toes and back down again trying to get the right spot. He gasps when she hits his prostate.
“There's the spot I was looking for,” Charlie coos, her right hand moving to his cock.
There's no lube on her hand, so it's more of a tugging sensation than anything else, but he doesn't care, and when she runs her thumb over the tip of his dick, he hisses through his clenched teeth.
Charlie chuckles deeply, her voice sounding wrecked. “We're going to have to clean this skirt if you get it all messy,” she sing-songs.
“Please,” Dean begs. “Faster, please!” he whines as he tries to thrust back at Charlie.
“Mmm, you're close already, aren't you,” she says, fully aware she's driving him crazy with the slow thrusting.
She speeds up and Dean lets out a sob of relief. “Yeah, that,” he says, meeting her thrusts.
Charlie leans over and kisses his spine between his shoulder blades, her left hand reaching around to tweak his nipple. The things she does to him, how high she gets him is almost scary to him.
Sure, he's been with a lot of women, but he's never had anyone play him like an accomplished musician plays an instrument before. She gets him inside and out, and considering they haven't known each other a relatively long time, it's enough to convince him that maybe some of what he thought of romance when he was a kid is true.
There are no fairy tales. Nothing's ever perfect. There's always going to be problems. But what they have so far, so early in the game? It's magical.
“I want to hear you come,” Charlie says, thrusting faster, punching a grunt out of Dean when she hits his prostate on an in-stroke. “I want to hear you fall apart while I'm fucking you,” she growls, and the grip and stroking on his dick is just to the right side of awesome. “I want you to get this skirt so messy that we'll have no choice but to wash it.”
Dean moans long and hard, his legs trembling from the position he's in and the fucking he's getting. His nails are digging into the wood of his dresser, his teeth are clenched, and he's panting.
“Or maybe I'll make you wear it like that,” Charlie says with a very evil tone to her voice. “Yeah. That's what I'll do. I'll make you wear your messy skirt with nothing on under it so I can take a peek any time I want.”
“Oh, fuck,” Dean growls.
“I'll make you do the dishes in nothing but the skirt,” Charlie whispers and Dean whimpers. “I'll stand back and watch as you wash each and every single piece of dinnerware while I cop a feel any time I want, and I'll lift your pretty little skirt as I walk by so I can pinch that beautiful ass, making you squirm and squeak.”
Dean's eyes are closed. He's not bothering to look in the mirror anymore. He's drowning in her words, the visual she's giving him. Her hips are smacking into his ass, the dildo is making an obscene noise as it fucks in and out of him, and Dean's whimpering is turning into a keening sound.
“You'll be working so hard for me,” Charlie continues, twisting her hips to catch his prostate every once in a while. “And if you miss a spot, I'll use a spatula to smack that little ass of yours.”
Dean makes a moaning noise he swears he's never made before. It's so wanton, so fucking aroused that he's amazed it came from him.
“Then I'll slither around down by your legs,” she says, scratching her nails down his spine, not hard enough to break the skin, but it's enough to make him squirm. “Then I'll suck you off while you finish washing the dishes, my legs spread wide and my fingers in my pussy as you try not to break all the dishes you're washing.”
Dean's whole body tenses. Her comment about her fingers in her pussy pushed him close enough to the edge that the next hit on his prostate he's coming so hard he yells. “Charlie! Fuck, oh, fuck, Charlie!” he yells as he comes, and he feels her fingers holding his dick under the skirt, making sure he's coming all over the underside of the skirt.
She fucks him hard through his orgasm, his legs shaking so hard he grabs onto the dresser tighter so he doesn't fall. A noise like a sob comes out of him as he comes down, his body oversensitized and floating on a haze of awesome feelings.
Charlie kisses him on his back again, then uses her left hand to hold onto his hip. “My turn,” she says, and now that he's looking in the mirror again, he sees a big grin on her face.
Dean hisses as she starts fucking him harder. He's thankful she's not doing anything to his dick other than holding it. They've played with that a few times, but they've never done it while he's standing, and he doesn't know if he'd be able to keep himself upright if she stroked him while he's so sensitive.
He watches her in the mirror, looking at the way her legs are moving, the muscles in her thighs and calves, the side of her right ass cheek. “You're so fucking sexy,” he tells her.
He makes eye contact with her in the mirror, sees that she's glistening a little with sweat. She's so damned beautiful that he could never find the right way to tell her exactly how he feels.
“So beautiful,” he groans. “Love watching your ass and thigh while you fuck me. Wanna bite that ass,” he says with a grin.
“Mmm, I'll take you up on that later,” she says with a wink, her voice sounding even more wrecked than it had a few minutes ago.
“I wanna lick you clean,” Dean says, watching the dildo fucking him again, thinking about how the other end of that is fucking her pussy. “I wanna spread you wide and make you come again after you're done fucking me. I wanna shove my tongue as far inside as I can, and then I wanna suck on your clit until you come all over my face.”
“Fuck, Dee! Yeah!” Charlie yelps as she starts coming.
She's fucking him so hard that it's a little painful, but it's totally worth it to watch her fall apart, her rhythm slipping, her eyes falling closed, her mouth open as she pants and moans her way through her orgasm.
Before she's even done coming, he pulls off of her dildo, turns, picks her up, and tosses her on the bed. Her eyes are wide, but she's got a grin on her face. Dean shoves her legs apart, then undoes the buckles of her strap-on.
He gently pulls the dildo out of her, drops it onto the floor next to the bed. She's still panting, her thighs shaking. He gets down onto his knees next to the bed, then pulls her closer, her ass hanging halfway off the edge of the bed.
She yelps as he shoves his tongue into her pussy. “Oh, Dee, yeah, that tongue, yeah, it's, fuck!” Charlie groans as she pushes her pussy into his face, trying to get more.
Dean moans into her, then he can't help but smile a little as he feels her shiver underneath him. She's making little 'oh, oh' sounds that are giving him a semi again already.
He's learned the combinations she likes, how hard she likes certain things, how soft she likes others, and he keeps her off balance a bit as he flicks her clit too softly to make her come, shoves the flat of his tongue over her clit hard enough to back her off of the edge, then goes right back to flicking her clit just the way she likes. He wants to make her beg. And by the way her thighs are trembling, she's about to break and beg to come.
A staccato keening sound comes from what sounds like her open mouth, and Dean gives himself a pat on the back for getting her to the point where he knows she's wasted enough on arousal to have her eyes closed, her arms thrown out to the sides, and her mouth agape.
He doesn't even need to see her to know she's got her head tilted back, arching her neck and back, her stomach and chest heaving, and cute little frown lines appearing on her forehead because what she really wants to do is demand he get her off, but she's not quite frustrated enough to voice her demand.
“Dee, please!” Charlie finally breaks. “Please! I wanna come! Please make me come! Please! Oh!” she begs in a voice that's flipping back and forth between growly and breathy, her voice cracking on a few of the words.
Dean shoves his tongue into her hole, ignoring her clit for the moment, knowing it'll make her even more demanding at this point. He wiggles his tongue, then fucks it in and out at a pace that's not too fast, not too slow.
Her legs fall even further apart, her hips tilting to give him more room even though he has plenty, and he knows she's trying to get him deeper now that his tongue is in her hole, but he's not going to use his fingers yet.
Charlie lets out a loud growl of frustration. “I know what you're doing, Dee Winchester!”
Dean is so surprised by hearing his new full name that he pauses for a moment. It's the first time anyone has said “her” full name. His eyes burn, but he goes back to pleasuring Charlie. He doesn't want her to know how much that affected him.
He decides he really likes it. He wants it. He suddenly has a strong urge to change the name on a few of his IDs to read Dee Winchester. Okay, maybe Dee Winchester on just an ID that he keeps in his dresser drawer to take out and stare at every now and then. But it feels so right, and he has a craving for hearing it again, seeing it written down like it's something permanent.
Dean flicks his tongue against her clit, and he hears Charlie's voice change from whining to encouraging.
“Yeah!” she says, then makes a happy “mmm” sound. “Right there. Fuck, yeah. I wanna come, Dee. Please make me come!”
He works on her clit, doing it just the way he knows she likes best when she's about to come. Her thighs are shaking again, and she moves her feet to his shoulders, something he really likes because he can feel her toes flexing, digging into his shoulders like she can draw him closer, get him further inside.
Her body shifts, and when he takes a peek up at her, she's gotten to her elbows so she can watch him. She's panting hard, her chest heaving, and her teeth are clenched. Her hair's all over the place from writhing on the bed, and she looks gorgeous.
Dean picks up speed, flicking her clit as fast as he can, and he feels her pussy clenching as she starts coming.
“Dee!” Charlie growls, and he watches her as she tries to keep eye contact with him, the little frown lines on her forehead making an appearance again. “Fuck! Yeah! Dee!” Charlie screams as she comes.
She finally loses the battle of keeping eye contact with him as her eyes slam shut and she flops backward on the bed, her belly and hips twitching up at him.
He licks her through her orgasm, gentling as she comes down, then softly licks out her hole so he can taste more of her, but keeping it slow and soft so it doesn't stimulate her already oversensitized pussy too much.
“Wanna kiss you,” Charlie says.
Dean looks up to see her hands are outstretched, her fingers doing grabby hands, and he chuckles as he stands up. She scoots back on the bed to give him room to get on his knees on the end of the bed. He puts his hands on the bed on either side of her chest, leans down, and shares the last lick of her pussy with her.
She loves tasting herself on him, and he gets a huge kick out of her loving tasting herself on him. She sucks on his tongue, moaning and squirming beneath him. Her tongue flits about in his mouth, running along the roof of his mouth.
He slides off to her right side, wrapping his right leg over hers, his right arm wrapping around her tummy, and he rests his head on her right arm, snuggling in.
“Somebody's hard again,” Charlie sing-songs, her voice completely wrecked.
“Mmm, yeah, because you're so fucking hot,” Dean mumbles into her neck.
He lets his right hand wander from her belly down to her pussy, and she squeaks when he gently pushes his fingers between her lips. She doesn't pull away, so he uses his middle and ring fingers to gently push into her hole, keeping away from her clit because she's still sensitive.
Dean pushes his hard cock into her hip, riding it lazily as he slowly fingerfucks her. He doesn't know if either one of them will come again. He's just content to still have the connection, to feel her body beneath his, relaxing and melting against him.
She turns her head, snuffling his hair and making him smile. He tilts his head, looks up at her, and she smiles, her beautiful green eyes so close he feels like he can fall into them. She kisses the tip of his nose, making him chuckle.
“You gonna come again?” she asks, one eyebrow raising.
“Don't care,” he mumbles, leaning in for a kiss.
They kiss for what seems like forever. It's not hungry, not rough. It's just a lazy and casual kiss that's more comforting and connecting than arousing.
“Mmm,” Charlie moans into his mouth as he fingerfucks her a little faster.
He enjoys hearing her react to him, so he uses his thumb to ease her clit into being stimulated again. She tries to spread her legs for him, but since his leg is flung over her right leg, she plants her left foot on the bed and lets her leg fall open.
Dean pushes a little harder into her hip, his cock letting out a little precome, but not much since he's already come once. He likes the feeling of the head of his dick catching on her skin, and when she reaches down with her left hand to play with the head of his cock, he moans into her mouth.
She can't reach his whole cock because of the position they're in, but she massages the head with her hand and fingers, and it feels great as he continues thrusting a little.
They don't say anything, their lips still engaged in kissing. The kiss becomes more intense as the two of them get more and more aroused. Charlie's not moving her body much, just lying back and enjoying the fingerfucking, her left hand working Dean's cock head.
Dean starts fucking into her side harder, his thumb rubbing her clit in a circular motion, his own hips thrusting harder. Charlie changes her hand position enough to jerk off the very end of his cock, and between the dragging sensation he's getting from rubbing against her body and the stimulation at the end of his dick, he's coming, thrusting into her and, against her body, shaking and moaning as Charlie's hand gets so messy with jizz that he can feel the slick as he fucks up into her hand.
By the time his hips slow down, he feels Charlie's hips pushing down on his hand. He moves his hand a little faster, still kissing her, though his own hips have slowed to a very gentle swaying.
She comes with a keening noise, her hips stuttering, her body making a lazy rolling wave motion more than jerking, and her hand squeezing the tip of his dick just enough to make him yelp into her mouth.
Charlie breaks the kiss, and he smirks when he sees she's got a very satisfied smile on her lips. He pulls his fingers out of her, then pushes them into his mouth, making sure she's watching.
“Mmm, I love when you do that,” she moans.
He makes a bit of a show out of it for her, groaning around his fingers, sucking on them. When he's licked them clean, he pulls his fingers out and wraps his arm around her again. He snuggles into her neck and breathes in her scent, feels the warmth of her body seeping into his as their bodies relax into happy, sated puddles.
They lie there for a while, not saying anything, and Dean's eyes close. He's just about to fall asleep when he hears Charlie.
“Dee?” she says softly.
“Yeah, baby?” he replies, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I love you,” she says, and it's not said softly like his name, but rather it's with confidence and conviction.
Dean moans as he lifts his head, looking down at her and smiling. He kisses her gently, letting her know how he feels through the passion in the kiss. She's his, and this confirms it more than ever. He feels his chest swell with emotion and excitement and another empty space filling inside him that he didn't even know existed. He wasn't waiting for her to say she loved him, but now that she's said it, he wonders how he lived without it before.
“I love you,” he says when he pulls away, looking her in the eye, and hoping she knows he's saying it because he means it, not just as a response to her declaration.
She smiles up at him, looking so happy, as if she knows he really means it, that he just has to kiss her again. She pulls away, then grabs the throw blanket that had been tossed to the side while he ate her out. She tries to get it up and over their bodies, but Dean sees her flailing a bit, so he helps, and they get it spread out over the two of them.
They settle, comfortable wrapped up in each other, their heads both falling back down, and Dean nuzzling into her neck again.
He smiles. “I think I love you more, though,” he says, then kisses her neck.
Charlie giggles. “Hmm, I don't think that's possible, because I really think I love you more.”
“We'll have to fight about it in the morning,” Dean mumbles.
“Ooh,” Charlie coos. “Our first fight. Can we have make-up sex?” she asks, her voice low and sounding like she's already half asleep.
“Totally,” Dean mumbles, nearly asleep himself.
- - -
It's a week later, and Sam and Dean have had a long discussion without Charlie there, talking about the pros and cons of including Charlie in the names on the bank accounts.
Dean's somewhat leery of it, and Sam is to some degree as well. But in the end Sam makes the argument that if Charlie really wanted to take the money and run, she could probably do it whether her name was on the account or not because of her computer skills, and Dean makes the argument that even if she were to go ahead and split with the money, they'd been fine all their lives without Tulley's money and they'd be okay if it was gone again.
It's worth it to Sam and Dean also in the sense that if something happens to one or more of them, any surviving members of their trio would be able to get at the money.
Dean and Sam don't think Charlie would cut and run, but because of their lives, and Dean's “abandonment issues,” as Sam calls them, it's necessary to talk about the money situation.
They find her in the library, and Dean sets the bag of cash on the library table, Sam spreading their various ID cards and paperwork out next to the bag of cash.
“I don't know about this,” Charlie says after they explain everything to her, and her eyes widen as she looks between Sam and Dean.
She stands up from her favorite overstuffed chair, leaving her laptop behind, and she walks over to the library table, glancing over the IDs.
“This is a huge responsibility,” she says, her arms going out to the side to demonstrate how ginormous the responsibility is. “Why would you trust me not to skip out with all your money?” she asks, a grimace on her face.
Dean walks over to her, wraps his arms around her, and kisses her temple. “We'd rather take the risk than not. If something ever happens to one or both of us, we'd want you to have the money anyway,” he says, feeling her tense in his arms when he mentions the possibility of something happening to them.
“If you really don't want this to happen,” Sam says with his mediator-slash-laywer face on, as Dean likes to call it, “we won't do this, but we've talked about it,” nodding toward Dean. “We'd like to do this for a lot of reasons, and if you ever change your mind, we can make changes. If you ever decide living with Dee or the both of us is not for you, we'll work it out if it happens.”
Dean pulls out of his hug enough to look down at Charlie, still keeping his left arm around her. “I'd rather that not happen because I really like having you around,” he says, and his chest swells with affection when he sees a blush wash over her cheeks and a little smile twitching onto her lips, “but it's always a possibility, and neither of us want you to feel like you're chained to us. I mean it,” Dean says, looking her in the eye to make sure she really gets this.
She's quiet for a moment, and Dean gives her time to digest the information. Then a big grin spreads across her lips. “You really trust me this much? You want me here this much?” she asks, her voice so hopeful, so full of wonder that it tugs at Dean's heart.
“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling down at her, “I do.”
Sam clears his throat to get their attention. “And I do too,” he says with a smirk.
Charlie giggles, and the look she gives Sam melts Dean's heart. The three of them are becoming a little family here in the bunker, and Dean's thrilled about it.
So all three of them go into three separate big-name banks, spreading Tulley's money between the three banks. All of them are signers on each of the accounts, yet any one of them can walk into any of the banks and withdraw every bit of the money.
They had decided to dress up fairly nicely so that they would look presentable in the banks. Charlie had worn a sundress with a fitted top and broomstick bottom in dark green with deep purple abstract flowers.
Dean and Sam had worn their best jeans, which in both cases were black and had no holes, and instead of shirts and flannels, they wore button down dress shirts from their suits, Dean's being dark maroon and Sam's chocolate brown with little flecks of black throughout the shirt.
As they walk out of the last bank, Sam hands Dean and Charlie each two hundred dollars, then holds up another two hundred dollars, waving it in their faces.
Sam's grin is infectious. “I say we celebrate by going to a restaurant where the napkins are cloth instead of paper and there are real tablecloths instead of red-and-white-checked plastic.”
Dean pats his stomach. “I could go for a steak,” he says.
Charlie smacks Dean's arm. “Sam said real napkins, so that means you can have a steak, but you also get it topped with sauteed onions and mushrooms and it's drizzled with a sauce that has so many calories that they'll refuse to tell you the caloric count!”
“See!” Sam says, smacking Dean's arm in the same spot Charlie had. “She knows how to do celebrating with a nice restaurant,” he says with a mock scowl.
Dean knows this about Charlie, and he loves it about her. He's wanted to take her out to a nice restaurant, knowing she'd appreciate it, and even though this isn't a date between the two of them, Dean's happy to be celebrating with her and Sam.
“We already got all gussied up to look credible at the banks,” Dean says, gesturing toward each of them, and Charlie strikes a pose, showing off her black-strapped wedge shoes. “Why not?” he says, heading off toward the car.
- - -
Next: Part 6