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As the wind whistled through the trees, their branches moving as limbs of a skeleton, you cuddled deeper into your jacket. Wishing you had brought an extra blanket along with you, you glanced towards Dean, amazed at how he could just lay in the damp grass, letting nothing bother him.
Hearing an owl hooting in the distance, the hair on the back of your neck rose. It was late fall, the perfect time to be spending the night in a graveyard. Not exactly what you would considered the perfect date location, but it's what you had to deal with.
Dean had promised you a date tonight, and he refused to go back on his word. Even though a hunt came up suddenly, he had insisted that you and he could make a date out of anything. Going so far as to bring a blanket to sit on, a picnic basket full of snacks, pie and beer beside you.
As the wind picked up, you snuggled deeper into your jacket, staring down at Dean who was full of pie. Laying on the ground, his eyes closed, he looked peaceful, and hotter than anyone should laying in the grass inches away from someone's grave.
He had even dressed for the occasion, pulling out his favorite leather jacket from the closet. With nothing more than a dark green Henley on underneath and his faded and tight jeans, he could be at the fanciest bar instead of waiting for a ghost in the middle of the night in a graveyard.
Nibbling on your lip, you couldn't believe that someone so hot, so masculine had fallen for you. Each and every day you woke up, wondering how you had gotten so lucky. Sure, there was the fact that you hunted, just like him. But you were just a normal girl, who enjoyed wearing jeans and t-shirts more than dresses. More often than not your hair was up in a ponytail or a braid, and your nails were never painted. You were nothing like the girls Dean had flirted with before you, and you caught yourself wondering how you had gotten lucky.
It had taken weeks for you to realize that Dean was flirting with you. That he was interested in you, and for more than a one-night stand. Once he finally made that clear, you had never been happier. Being with Dean was everything you had ever imagined it would be. It was steamy and hot, while being sweet and funny at the same time. He could have you laughing so hard you were rolling off your chair one moment, then clenching your legs as arousal ran through you seconds later. Just one look, one bite of his lip and you were gone. Often, you found yourself getting easily distracted during research, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down the hallway towards the room you shared.
Even with all the hot thoughts running through your mind, you couldn't control the shiver that ran through your body from the cool air. Making you wish that you could leave this graveyard behind and head back to your motel room. A room separate from Sam's, where you had a very specific way to warm up.
"I can feel you thinking from over here." Dean muttered, his arms crossed across his chest, making the muscles in his arms bulge. Opening one eye, he glanced your way, missing the way you were shivering in the autumn air.
"If you can feel it, tell me what I'm thinking." You insisted, feeling heat pooling in your lower regions at the thought of removing the layers off him. Of pushing him down on the bed and running your hands all along that body of his.
"That you're cold, and you can't wait to get out of here." He muttered, completely missing the heat in your tone.
"Open your eyes again and look at me." You ordered, leaning over and placing your hand against his chest, feeling his muscles clench underneath your hand.
Opening his eyes, you could just barely make out the green in the moonlight. Searching your face, his eyes widened. Reaching up, he cupped you by the back of the neck, pulling you down to him. "I don't know what brought this on, but I like it." He whispered, before those lips you loved to feel against your skin were on your own. With your hand clenched in his leather jacket, you let him take the lead.
"Let's get out of here." You whispered once he had come up for a breath. Without warning, Dean pulled you down on top of him, your body flush against his.
"Why leave?" He teased. "Sam's not gonna be here for another hour, and the ghost hasn't shown up yet. I have just the way to warm you up."
His mouth moved to your neck as he spoke, nibbling and sucking against the sensitive skin there. Wanting to argue, not sure you were quite brave enough to make love in the public graveyard, you moaned when he came to your collarbone, pushing your shirt down to get to the skin there. "Fine." You answered, giving in to your desire.
Smiling against your skin, Dean moved the two of you until you were laying on the blanket, and he was pressing against you. Forgetting all about the cold, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hand slid underneath your shirt when you saw a pair of bleak gray eyes staring at you from above Dean.
"Dean!" You screamed, and he just raised his eyebrow towards you.
"That's not usually the response you give me." He mumbled, before moving to slide your shirt up.
Caught between the fear of the ghost above him, and the desire still running through you, you could only scream one word. "Ghost!"
"Shit!" Dean exclaimed, leaving you suddenly. Grabbing the iron poker beside him, he swung it, vanishing the ghost. Breathing heavily, he glanced down at you, where you lay with your shirt still pulled up slightly. "Y/N, I'm sorry but we might have to finish this later." He apologized, just as the ghost came back, his hands reaching out for you.
As he continued to fight the ghost, your phone rang, Sam's name flashing on the screen. Picking it up, you listened to Sam, who quickly explained the ghost wasn't even buried in the cemetery. He was cremated, but Sam was working on burning the gloves holding him here. "Dean, keep him busy!" You exclaimed, knowing that the ghost would leave to go after Sam if it could.
"Not a problem!" Dean answered, swinging once again. Standing up, you pulled out the salt shot gun, shooting the ghost when he visualized behind Dean.
About five minutes later you were almost out of shells when the ghost let out a scream, burning from sight. Breathing heavily, you leaned against Dean, who's leather jacket was scuffed and dirty. "Well, that ghost was a cockblock." Dean grumbled, brushing unhappily at his jacket.
"Just because he interrupted us here, doesn't mean our night is completely over." You hinted at, pressing yourself tight against his chest. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to the sensitive spot on his neck, right below his ear. "Let's get out of here." You whispered, and with a squeal you felt yourself being lifted in his arms. Carrying you out of the graveyard, towards the Impala, you couldn't control your laughter. "But Dean! You forgot the picnic basket and blanket!"
"I'll come back tomorrow. Or they'll be a present for some other horny couple." He muttered, stepping hard on the gas. Peeling rubber as he left the parking lot, his hand stayed tight on your upper thigh, and you couldn't wait until you made it back to your motel room. Hopefully there would be no interruptions this time.
