Party People (Dean)

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You looked at yourself in the motel mirror, your elegant black sequin dress sparkling in the dull light.

You were just finishing up in the bathroom, running your hands down to smoothen your dress, eyes staring back at yourself, the steam from your prior shower still fogging up the glass, abscuring your view. Hiking up your skirt, you tucked your hand gun into your leg holster, memory of the reasoning behind the fancy attire returning to you.

You were working a case with the Winchester brothers, a regular accurace these days, and duty called for you to clean up and do some research. You were about to hop into the impala and gatecrash some rich mother fucker's business gathering; one that included alcohol, slow dancing, formal outfits and plus ones.

"Hurry up in there (Y/N)," you heard Dean call impatiently from the other side of the locked door. "We need to leave soon."

Scrunching up your neatly curled hair to give it more volume, you applied you bright red lipstick before shouting back. "Coming!"

"God you can be so impatient sometimes," you grumbled under your breath as you left the bathroom, strutting over to grab your purse from your bed, your dress flowing behind you.

"(Y/N), Sam's already in the car, what's taking you so lo-" Dean stopped mid sentence as he turned his attention from the front door, ajar from Sam leaving and focused on you.

His eyes widened as he gazed over your body, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Lost for words, he waved his left hand about, his face contorting into some sort of half embarrassed smile and half seductive grin before he gave up, picked up his duffle of weapons and swiftly left the room, the door shuting firmly behind him.

Scoffing at his ridiculous behavior you rolled your eyes. There was no way that you were going to let him throw you of your game. After all, he was just being Dean. Suddenly a new dress and red lips made his testosterone levels peak. It was just his male drive taking instinct. There was no way he liked you for real, no matter how much you dreamed about it.

Sighing, you rummaged through your duffle for your silver blade and stuffed it into your purse before jogging in your heals out the door, locking it behind you before jumping in the back seat of the impala, the loud rock music being the only thing to fill the defaning silence.

***

Hours had passed and you had decided to split up and search the house, talking to the people not getting you anywhere.

Rounding a corner you scaled the spiral stairs, entering the first door to your left.

Searching the room it looked like it belonged to one of the adults of the family, a posh four poster bed standing proud in the center of the room, curtains draping from the canopy looming over it.

The walk in wardrobe led to a private bathroom, the smooth carpet turning into tiled floor as the rooms connected.

"Hey," a low voice came from behind you - Dean's voice.

"Hey," you replied, your mind focused on searching the room, gun raised. "Found anything?"

"Nope, not yet," he answered from behind you, your ears picking up the fact that he awkwardly cleared his throat.

Realising that the room was clear you lowered your gun before turning back to face Dean.

It wasn't until now that you fully took in his gorgeous appearance. His bow legs, slight hunch, the way his suit clug to his shoulders perfectly and the way his crisp white shirt emphasised the brilliant emerald green gems that were his eyes.

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