𝘅𝘃. 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴-𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗲𝗯𝗮𝗯

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chapter fifteen

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chapter fifteen

walking-talking kebab


    THE NEW CASE had taken them to Chicago, Illinois and Cordelia was already over it

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THE NEW CASE had taken them to Chicago, Illinois and Cordelia was already over it. She had barely slept last night and didn't know how to function on four hours of sleep, but that was the life of a hunter ⸻ you lived on crappy coffee, greasy diner food and no sleep.

Carter stopped his truck behind the Impala. Yes, Carter was still with them. After the last case, he had decided to stick around for a little while because he wanted to help find Jess' killer, his words were, "Jess was my friend, too," and while Cordelia appreciated the sentiment, she couldn't help but tell him, "Jess hated you, by the way."

While it was fun having him around, she could tell that his main priority was fixing his friendship with Sam. Sam and Carter were good friends when he was with Cordelia; and after they broke up, like any best friend, Sam immediately had it out for him.

Like Cordelia did right now, as she got out of his truck. She scowled at him from beneath the sunglasses that were perched on her nose. Too hungover to even make a quip about the costumes Sam, Dean and Carter were wearing.

As Sam climbed out of the Impala, his eyes immediately fell onto her and a chuckle left his lips. "What's up with you?" He asked her, watching as she lifted a hand and rubbed the side of her head.

"Oh, she had a late night, last night. A reaaal late night," Carter answered before she got a chance to, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Had to go pick her up from some random apartment complex at the crack of Satan's ass."

"Yeah, okay, thank you, Carter," she grumbled, pushing her sunglasses further up her nose to protect her eyes against the blaring sun, and Dean's eyes, which seemed to be glued on her. "Thank you for that... because everyone needs to know about my sex life."

"I'm just saying," he shrugged, voice holding amusement as he tried to defend himself.

"Well, don't. Do me a favour and shut the fuck up," Cordelia grumbled. She had spent the night with the bartender she had met a couple of months ago ⸻ on the Roosevelt Asylum case; it was safe to say it was a disappointing night.

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄, dean winchesterWhere stories live. Discover now