I didn't know the song that was playing but dance to it anyway, waiting for Dean to suddenly possess some wicked dancing skills that I hadn't known about but had somewhat expected. When he started awkwardly trying to mimic what a couple other guys were doing, I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"What are you doing?" I asked over the music, laughing harder when he made it clear he did not think this was funny. "Having a seizure?"
"No! I just don't know how to do this. I told you, I don't dance."
"You're agile and coordinated, more than I am! Come on, it's just dancing." I tried to help him out, but that only made it worse, and I started laughing again. "Dean, you can't be this horrible at something when you're good at everything."
"As much as I appreciate the compliment, I'm good at the important things in life, like drinking and killing stuff and shooting guns. Dancing is not important enough for me to be good at it."
I laughed again, starting to dance when another song came on. "Just dance, Dean. You'll be fine."
He didn't look like he believed that, but did what I said anyway. Though I found him hilarious, I almost felt bad for the people around him who had to watch.
"Okay, well I wish I could say you're getting better," I joked. "You're thinking too much."
He glared at me but didn't say anything, starting to dance again and actually not looking as bad. I gave him an encouraging smile, and he scoffed, starting to adjust further and not actually sucking that bad anymore. By the time the next song had started, he had basically gotten the hang of it, and started to throw in his own moves that made me laugh more and more. Near the end of the fourth song he grabbed my hands and spun me around so my back was to his stomach. He seemed to have some level of seriousness with which he moved, but I couldn't help finding him hilarious, and he released me quickly.
"You know, girls don't like being humped from behind," I said pointedly, grinning.
"Well, do girls like this?" He smirked and grabbed my waist, pulling me so I was pressed against him. He began swaying smoothly in rhythm with the music. I looked up to laugh at him and then saw how close his face was, my breath catching in my throat. Had I ever looked at him like this before? His eyes lit up from laughing at himself and at me, his smirk not directed towards sarcasticness but an actual smile... Obviously I knew he was smoking hot, but I'd never thought further into it than that. He was hot and he was mine. Three years of saving each other's lives over and over really made you feel like you owned a person. And I was certainly very aware of how easy it would be to just stand up on the tippy-toes of the boots he'd gotten me and kiss him--
It wouldn't be easy. He was Dean, a constant, someone who was always there for me and always would be. Falling in love with him would screw everything up.
But was I already in love?
Judging by the way my stomach suddenly got millions of butterflies while our gazes met, apparently I was.
Crap.
I moved away, laughing to try and make it seem like I hadn't just had an epiphany. "No, they don't. The whole flirting with the eyes thing is way overused. Jeez, Dean, do you have any originality with your hitting on girls techniques?"
He laughed, and it didn't seem at all forced or fake like mine probably had, so I was extremely grateful. Thank God he hadn't noticed my lapse of sanity.
I don't know how many songs passed before he mentioned something about purple nurples and started to pull me off the dance floor, and I stumbled behind him, half exhausted and half just sore from laughing so hard the whole time we danced together. We got to the bar and ordered drinks just as Sammy came up to us, looking like he was about to burst out laughing.
"Did you see?" I asked him, fighting back another burst of giggles at the dangerous look on Dean's face.
"Bits and pieces. I might have nightmares." He held out his hand to Dean expectantly. "Can I have the keys?"
"To my car?"
Sam pretended Dean hadn't spoken. "Basically the definition of third wheel over here. I'm out, I can't get too drunk anyway. I've got some research to do, finding us a hunt for tomorrow and everything."
I glared at him. "Stay! Come on, I'm twenty-one! We're supposed to get hammered!"
"Correction: you're supposed to get hammered. I'm supposed to judge you from afar."
"And laugh when you fall," Dean added.
I pretended to be outraged. "Well someone better catch me then!"
Sam looked at Dean questioningly, as if seeing if he was certain that he would actually be able to catch me. Dean scoffed, looking offended. "Of course I'll catch her. Get outta here, man, you're killing my buzz." He reached into his pocket and handed Sam the keys. "Take care of Baby. We'll call you when we're ready for you to come get us."
Sam nodded and took the keys, weaving around people until he was out of sight. I turned to Dean when he was gone.
"What next?"
"More drinks?" he suggested, waving the bartender over.
