[h2] Dean Winchester [/h2]

Dean laughed, shaking his head, “I honestly have never been sober with you.  Maybe that’s how you talk me into crap…a little pool, a little alcohol, and I let you manhandle me…”

He watched her as she searched for her gun.  It had fallen out of her pants when he pulled them from her legs, and he had kicked it under the bed.  The thought of her holding him at gunpoint caused him to raise an eyebrow and cock his head to the side, as if to say ‘that’s kinda hot', “Maybe we can try that next time, eh?  I mean…make sure it’s not loaded, of course.  But gun stuff is a trail untraveled for me.”

He placed his tongue between his teeth and gave a charming smile, his eyebrows high until he heard Sam’s voice, and his head snapped to his brother, finally remembering he was in the room.  It was something that happened when he was with Esme.  Sam was right, in what he had said earlier.  She could be a distraction, easily.

He stepped up to Sam and patted him on the chest, “You be careful getting back to the safe house.  I think we may grab drive-thru…and I hope you saved me a decent room if we’re gonna be there a while.”

He stepped away from Sam, and over to Esme, picking her up and spinning her.  His mood had shifted in the past twenty-four hours into something that he didn’t even recognize.  Part of it was the alcohol that drove them the night before, but also the fact that he missed her, a little more than he would admit.  He lowered her to the ground, touching foreheads with her, and smiled brightly, “What drive-thru shall we hit, while I nurse this hangover?”