Brown Mountain Lights

Exposition, Baking, and Adorably Protective Men

A soft click jerked me awake. I sat straight up and saw the back door of the Impala open and a shadowy figure crawl in the car. I took a deep breath to scream for Sam and Dean, but apparently the shadow knew what I was going to do and clamped a hand over my mouth. It pulled me back against its chest, trying to control my struggling, and – wait. This felt familiar. I stopped fighting and said, muffled by the hand, "Dean?"

Dean let me go and I turned to face him. "What are you doing?" I hissed. "The deal was that you and Sam sleep in the tent and I get the car – wait, why are you wet?"

Dean looked mildly amused as he responded, "You were right. It's raining. Sam, because he's a gentleman, decided to stay in the leaky tent and get wet. Me, on the other hand, I'd rather be dry than a gentleman. So move over, sweetheart."

I thought about arguing with him, but it had to be three in the morning and I really just wanted to go back to sleep. "Fine," I said shortly. "Keep your hands to yourself and stay on your half of the...seat."

He smirked. "Don't worry. Your virtue is safe with me."

I sighed and curled back up under the blankets. "I doubt any woman's virtue is safe with you," I muttered.

I heard him chuckle, then his breathing deepened and became more regular. I fell asleep quickly, feeling weirdly safe with Dean at my back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I woke up again to the pale early morning sunlight shining through the windshield, I sleepily thought for a second the blankets had gotten heavier. Then I realized that the weight was, in fact, Dean's arm and leg draped over me, pinning me to the seat. I started to squirm to get out from under him, but he only shifted, holding me even more firmly to the seat. I wriggled again, then froze as I felt something hard poking into my back. Oh dear. Awkward.

I felt him stir again and quickly closed my eyes and breathed slowly, pretending I was asleep. He yawned against my ear, then stiffened quickly and muttered "Shit." He slowly edged away, gently removing his arm and leg from their positions on top of me. He moved quietly to the far side of the seat, then yawned much more loudly and stretched, hitting the top of the car.

I pretended he had just woken me up and pulled my head out from under the covers, giving him my best glare, the one I usually used on people who dog-eared my books. I shoved my face back into the pillow and gave him a muffled "go to hell," to which he responded, "Been there, done that, got the freaky memories and the invisible scars."

Then he slapped my ass.

I was sure as hell awake now.

When we got out of the car, Dean was sporting a black eye and a bleeding mouth; I had escaped unscathed but for a couple of bruises on my knuckles and a glancing hit to the bicep where he'd tried to capture my arm. I danced away from him, smirking as he made a half-hearted attempt to grab me while swearing and nursing his lip.

Sam had rebuilt and lit another fire, and was cooking what looked like more oatmeal over it. When he heard the racket Dean was making, he looked over at us, took in the situation, and started to smile. Then grin. Then chuckle. Within a few minutes, he was convulsing in laughter. Every time the howls started to trail off, he would look up and catch either the smug look on my face or the infuriated one on Dean's and start guffawing again.

Finally, after Dean's expression became more and more thunderous and my smug grin grew to epic proportions, Sam calmed down and wiped the tears out of his eyes.

Dean crossed his arms. "What exactly, Sammy, do you think is so funny?"

That set Sam off again, and between chortles, he said "Did SHE do that to you?"