Supernatural Imagines

My Type

"-and so I told her she should go after Sam." I scooted past Dean to grab the container of sugar, and he met me with a spoon on the way back through. The kitchen air was thick with the smells of breakfast and sounds of the skillet hissing over the stove. The entire bunker would smell like a diner for the rest of the morning, but I don't think Dean would have it any other way. I felt his narrowed eyes on me as I stirred my coffee carefully.

"Why did you tell her that?"  His voice was still hoarse with sleep, or lack thereof. I shrugged, sending my bed head tumbling further down my shoulder.

"Cream?" Almost before I could finish my request, a carton was thrust in my direction. We had done this same morning routine a hundred times, and knew each other better than most. I mumbled a thanks before returning to my mug.

Dean waited impatiently for me to respond to his question, fingers rapping over the counter in rhythm with whatever song played over in his mind.

"Why wouldn't I tell her that? Sam's a catch, she'd be lucky to be with him." A strangled noise of  exasperation broke from my hunting partners lips, followed by another similar sound when he remembered the skillet he was supposed to be tending. When I turned around I caught him trying to pick a piece of bacon out of the pan without burning his fingers. I watched in amusement as he blew on it frantically before shoving the whole strip into his mouth.

"But, I'm a catch." He sounded like he was speaking through a mouth full of cotton, lips pursed to accommodate the hot food in his teeth. That paired with his despairing tone made him seem like a child. I rolled my eyes and clicked the stove top off. As I dumped the remaining contents of the frying pan onto a plate I could feel Dean looming over me in anticipation.

"How come you never set up your hot friends with me?" He used my side as leverage and reached over my shoulder to grab another slice. Batting his hands away was useless; Sam would have to find his own breakfast at this rate.

"Um, because they're my friends." The fingers on my waist gripped tighter and moved upwards, threatening to brush the more ticklish parts of my ribs. I squealed and spun around to face a pair of green eyes, squinted slightly above a mischievous smile. "You're just not her type, Dean." He lowered his eyebrows and absently wiped a thumb over the curve of his bottom lip. The tips of his hair stuck up at odd angles where they were sill damp from his shower. I could smell the familiar scent of his favorite aftershave and wished he had left that bit of scruff over his jaw.

"Come on, what does Sam have that I don't?" My first reaction was a critical cough. I attempted to stifle the laughter rising to my lips, my coffee mug serving to hide my wide smile. He scowled and folded his arms over his chest. The faded fabric of his charcoal-colored tshirt stretched to accommodate his clenched biceps.

"I'm serious! What's the criteria for a man? I'm confident, sexy, skilled... did i mention incredibly sexy?" I quietly sipped from my steaming drink as he continued to list off all the characteristics he saw him himself. To be honest, I saw them just as much, if not more, than he did. But as long as I played the fool, I had the upper hand in this conversation. Dean's eyes met mine with expectation, awaiting my affirmation of his case. I gulped another swig of coffee before shrugging.

"I think you forgot egotistical." He groaned in frustration and quickly snatched the cup from my hands. I didn't have time to protest before it was returned the counter behind him, just out of my reach. I lunged for my prize but was met by a hard chest. Dean clicked his tongue at me and shook his head slowly.

"Not so fast. You'll get your coffee when we're done here." If I wasn't notorious for being just as cocky with him, I would chalk this up to him being an asshole. But, since this wasn't the first time we had teased each other, I took a breath and gathered my self control. Besides, indulging his curiosity could have its perks.