Blatantly stolen.

[the_impala_kid]

Request kisses from Dean! If you'd like a kiss from Dean, just comment here and let us know. He'll reply to your comment with a drabble of sorts that involves the kiss, or put up a thread to get that kiss on its way. Or if you'd like a bit more control over the situation just start your own post and mark the entry locked to Dean and leave me a

Comments

[the_impala_kid]

Dean watched her for a moment, taking a chance to get an assessment of the girl who'd just laid one on him. Tight jeans, a nice ass, soft lips, and a go-get-'em attitude -- in short, the girl he'd been looking for all around this town, and of a quality he hadn't thought he'd find. And a whiskey drinker, to boot -- that was a big plus

[the_impala_kid]

He gives her his best, most winning smile, even though it feels a little bit off to him, like he wants to touch his face to make sure that he put it on right. "Bottle of whiskey's under the jacket to your left, babe, on the floor. I'm -- kind of pinned down at the moment." He's still got a hand between them, and he gives her one last, teasing stroke before sliding it free.

[faiththatfuelsu]

She was expecting a brush off, a 'Had a great time, I'll call you' or 'Thanks for the ride.' Whiskey wasn't anywhere in any of those. "Yeah, sure thing."

She grabs both the jacket and bottle before settling herself in the seat next to him, taking a swig, and wrapping herself in the material. She doesn't remember him wearing it inside, but she'd been a little pre-occupied at the time, and is just thankful she doesn't have to fight with her own clothes just yet.

[the_impala_kid]

The sight of her in his jacket is nearly enough to get him going again, but even if his spirit was willing the body needed more than a two minute turn around time -- especially after a fuck like that one. She's smaller than she seems, then she acts, and there's a confidence in her body language that he recognizes as his own. It's one that says she knows ever inch of her body and what it can do, has put that to the test before

[faiththatfuelsu]

"Can't I just have the car?" She laughs as she runs a hand along the seat, admiring the pristine condition. "Sorry about the pants, patience has never been a virtue."

She's ready to sleep for a week after this, but she can't stop staring at him. He's completely comfortable in his own skin, and... scars. They are varied and numerous, even if most of them are only a few months old. What the hell? Her eyes narrow and she sits up straighter. "Interesting scars you got goin' there."

[the_impala_kid]

He tenses a bit, shifting almost unconsciously into a position where he's got an angle for leverage. There's something in her tone that's thrown his wind up -- it's not a statement so much as an assessment, cold and detatched --professional.

"Yeah," he says, voice carefully neutral, "I've, you know -- been around."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She's cursing herself for her stupidity. There's no way anything that just happened was natural, not with the things she was feeling. His posture's changed from relaxed to ready and she knows. This was a fucking trap, and she walked right into it.

Subtly trying to locate her clothes and search for a possible weapon wassn't easy, her best option would be the whiskey bottle he was currently holding. She doesn't even know what he might be capable of. Magic maybe? It would explain her reaction to the taste of blood. Blood magic was one of the stronger magicks in existence. Running was starting to seem like a good idea again, and she shifted towards the door handle.

[the_impala_kid]

He sees the shift -- when she goes from relaxed and happy to ready, and he knows for sure then that something's up. When she reaches out he doesn't know what she's reaching for, but if she's here on their behalf, then she's done for.

"Fuck," he spat, and fast on it's heels, even as he's weighting the whiskey bottle, "Cristo."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She freezes immediately as two things become painfully obvious- 1. She's fucked up, big time and 2. He thinks she's evil. Laughing serves to deflate the tension that's risen in her body and she re-asses him. "You think I'm a demon?"

[the_impala_kid]

He has to admit that he's surprised by her reaction. Still not quite ready to put the bottle down, but at least past getting ready to use it as a bludgeon, he shrugs, trying to get his sauve back into place, although he's viciously confused as to what's going on.

"Well, not anymore."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She's relaxing slightly, even if he still looks like he's ready for her to pull something. Putting her hands out in a placating manner she attempts to clear everything up. "Far from a demon, handsome. I'm a Slayer, even though I'm not 100% on where you fit in. You don't look like any Watcher I've ever met, and you probably would've known who the hell I was if you were."

[the_impala_kid]

"Bullshit," he says simply. "Ain't no such thing. Slayers're a myth Hunters tell their kiddies." His eyes narrow again. "What's your angle, here, sweetheart?"

[faiththatfuelsu]

"Sure they are. Girls that look like me can just rip a pair of jeans no problem, all the time, right? And say Christo, and oh yeah, thinking the sex took out the shapeshifter guess if that's what you were going for next." She's rolling her eyes and it's a shame. He's pretty, but a little slow on the uptake.

[the_impala_kid]

He scowls at her, mind racing. Why didn't Castiel tell him there were Slayers? That would have made the plans for this go a while lot easier. And how hadn't he known? With all the moving around the country he's done, all the places he's been and the bad shit that he's seen, why hasn't he ever seen a Slayer out there, doing her thing?

He decides to believe her, provisionally. "Okay then, Faith. So you're here to stop the Apocalypse, huh?" He laughs, can't help himself -- his life is far too strange; he's been looking for allies and they've been falling, hunted down before he can even get to them by Lilith's goons, and here he is, half-naked and messy in the backseat of his car and one's finally found him. "Okay. Let me grab that last pair of pants from the trunk, and then we're gonna have to go and have ourselves a little sit down and go over what you're got. Because let me tell you, if you're here that's gonna help a lot of shit out. We're still fucked, don't get me wrong, but at least one more fighter -- especially a

[faiththatfuelsu]

"More than one. About forty five or so, last time I bothered to count the annoying little bitches." She isn't making a move to get dressed, more than ok with staying put as is, and highly disappointed that he's about to take away most of her eye candy. She holds out her hand for the whiskey bottle, not sure that trying to take it would go over especially well yet.

"And don't get dressed on my account. Might be more fun to talk shop if we both have something to look at."

[the_impala_kid]

He grins at her, taking a drink from the bottle before handing it over. "Forty-five?" He starts to laugh, unable to help himself. "Okay, I can work with that."

He sighs, leaning back into the seat, and rubs his hand over his face. "What have you been following? I've unfortunately been in this for a while, and it's gotten to be so I feel as though I can recount most of what's goin' on in my sleep -- even though some of the motivations are still sketchy in a few places. Are y'all -- all forty-damn-five of you -- here on specifics, or do you just always show up at the End of Days lookin' to party?"