Summary: You're a hunter who has crossed paths with the Winchesters a few times before, and you and Sam hook up sometimes. Really fun, totally casual – overall a healthy and mutually beneficial relationship. Based on Just What I Needed by The Cars (song above).
Warnings: There's an implied smut moment; I don't know if it can be classified as fluff. It's just... cute. And fun.
A/N: In celebration of Valentine's Day, I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that it's okay to be single, it's okay to love being single, it's okay to have friends with benefits, and it's okay to want a strictly sex-only relationship, as long as it's all legal and consensual. Thanks and enjoy!
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You avoid eye contact with the lady at the front desk of the motel, who shoots a wary glance at the blood and ash caked under your fingernails. She doesn't question it, though, as she drops a key into your hand. You swing your bag over your shoulder and walk outside to your room, ready to collapse.
As you massage the prickling burn on your arm through your jacket, a car in the parking lot you were too tired to notice before catches your eye. A classic – well-taken care of, not a rust spot visible on the glossy black finish as it gleams in the moonlight.
Only after a pause do you realize why it seems so familiar.
Laughing to yourself, you knock on the door in front of it, the only room with its lights on.
"(Y/N)," the man says, his surprised smile reaching his green eyes. He ushers you in with a kiss on the cheek, placing the handgun he held behind the door on the table beside him.
"Thought I smelled Winchester," you smirk, scanning the otherwise empty room. "What are you doing in town?"
"Sammy and I just got here. Five people choked to death in the past two weeks. We're thinking witches," he says, popping off the top of a beer and handing the bottle to you.
You nod in thanks. "Well, you'd be right. They were witches."
"'Were'?" he questions.
"Aah," you sigh after taking a long, bubbly sip. "Burnt to a crisp."
He narrows his eyes. "You...?" An annoyed expression replaces the confusion on his face. "Of course you did."
"What can I say? I'm efficient," you chuckle, dropping your bag at your feet and leaning against the edge of the table.
He reaches behind you to grab a half empty beer, muttering something about a day's drive down the drain as he brings the bottle to his lips.
"If it makes you feel any better, it was pretty boring," you say. "Run-of-the-mill kitchen witches, crazy with a side of vengeance."
