So, You're a Fucking Virgin

Chapter 10

24 HOURS LATER

You decided to eschew any mind altering substances for your impending tryst as the whole point of this was to get your V Card swiped, yes, but also to have fun and be present. But who the fuck were you kidding? You were nervous as hell. You would be lucky if the fun level on this sucker was turned up to 3, nevermind the 11 you had hoped for.

Earlier that day, you had gone through your usual- breakfast, research, lunch, research, research...research...you know, your life's calling. Saving leftovers. Reading things. The family business. Around dinner time you noticed Sam was nowhere to be found.

"I see Sam has already evacuated the premises." you said meeting Dean in the kitchen where he already had the table set up with that night's dinner. Pasta and Dean's homemade sauce. Nothing like it.

"Yep, now we have the whole bunker to ourselves, well except, of course, for the King of Hell stashed in our dungeon." Dean gestured for you to sit.

"Our lives are weird." you stated plainly.

Dean nodded in agreement.

You both tucked into your dinner plates and ate largely in silence, both acutely aware of what that night was supposed to bring.

Wiping up the last of the sauce on his plate with a piece of bread Dean finally said something.

"So, tonight's the night. How do you wanna do this?"

"Yeah. Ummm...how do we do this? Do we do this in my room? In your room?"

"The ole Your place or my place?" he joked.

"I mean we could do it in Sam's bed." you smiled.

"Sold!" joked Dean. "Why don't you just come to my room, when you're ready?"

You brought your plate to the sink and started to do the dishes until Dean came up behind you, arms reaching around you to still your working hands..

"I'll do this. You go get yourself together." his hot breath ghosting along the back of your neck.

"Good idea." you said snaking yourself around him and wiping the excess moisture from the washing up on your pants.

Okay, so checklist you thought. Went to the bathroom. Took a shower. Shaved. Went to the bathroom again. Fixed my hair. Brushed my teeth. Spotify set to Fleetwood Mac's Rumors. All ready. Ready to go.

But your feet wouldn't move you from your place in front of the mirror that hung on the back of your closet door.

Okay, let's go now.

Not moving.

Let's do this. We can do this.

No movement at all.

Okay, you listen to me, Ms. ____________. It has been far too long for you. This is your chance. Probably your one chance to do this with someone you care about and trust. And he is super fucking hot. So get your panties out of your butt, because we have a massive wedgie, make sure you don't have to fart and get your ass across that hall. Because we're worth it.

And with that you flung your door open and marched five feet across the hall to Dean's room, took a deep breath and knocked on his door "Shave and a haircut" style.

After your shower you had gone through about 12 costume changes before settling on some lingerie you had bought ages ago, which had obviously gone woefully underused, paired with what you had been wearing all day.