I know I already have a fic on the go, but this one was just begging to be written. Cal got into my head and, well you just don't mess with the girl once she's made up her mind.
Disclaimer: As usual I don't own anything even remotely supernatural. Generally the stuff scares the crap out of me. For some reason though when the Winchesters are around it's not so bad… lol
Warnings: I doubt there are any spoilers. This one came straight from my twisted little mind. There's the usual little bit of swearing, and Cal gives Dean a run for his money… nothing worse than the usual stuff I write though.
Please, please, please review/critique/feedback… anything you want to say about this fic send my way… I love the responses almost as much as I love the writing itself and the critique's only make my writing better. Oh, and thanks for taking the time to read this. Hope you like it!
Winchester vs O'Sulivan (Dean my boy, what have you gotten yourself into this time?)
After half an hour in the bathroom she'd stepped out looking like something Dean usually chased after in local pubs, bars and pool halls on the road. A silky looking black blouse with absolutely no back on it loosely wound its way from the back of her neck, over all the important stuff and ignored all of the not so important stuff. It stopped just below her navel, and hung off of her like some sort of exotic curtain. The damned thing left just enough to the imagination to make it worth anyone's while who cared to look at her.
She wore her hair down and it fell it soft brown waves down to just below her shoulders. Gold and red natural highlights caught and shone in the light of the dingy motel room. A pair of dark jeans caressed long legs that went on forever and ended with strappy sandaled little feet. She wore no makeup, and didn't need it. Any type of paint on her face would have taken away from her incredibly blue eyes. If he didn't know any better they would have almost seemed innocent. Wait no… the clothes and the cocky little smile on her pouty lips would have been enough to tip him off. Cal was a lot of things all right and none of them innocent. One short round of poker had been enough to learn that little lesson.
She looked so damned good it was almost criminal and as far as Dean was concerned it should have been. Always the first one with something smart to say, he just couldn't help the comment that came out of his mouth. "Jesus, all you're missing is the spandex skirt to take that outfit where it belongs."
"Sorry hun, I don't do spandex. Too eighties for my tastes." She looked good and she knew it. Oh she was all sass and on top of it all she was picking on the things he liked best again. It was driving him more than a little crazy. So the hell what if he liked Metallica and Black Sabbath? As far as he was concerned 'mullet rock' was the only music worth listening to. Sure his clothes are a little dated… they were comfortable though, and they were perfect for hunting. He had to be doing something right, he never had any problems picking up when he wanted to. As for the car… well the comment she'd made earlier had just been uncalled for. His baby was a classic. Eighties, schmeighties… she was just jealous of his awesome Metallicar.
And all that aside, how the hell were they supposed to protect her when she insisted on leaving the motel dressed like… like some pool hall floozy? Little miss bad-girl Slayer had gotten in over her head and needed their help to get out of it. Demon slayer huh? He doubted it. If there even were such things she'd have to have more sense than that to be one. Those clothes were not exactly the 'blending in' kind that were necessary for people to feel comfortable talking around you like you weren't even there. They weren't going to get anything accomplished tonight except finding Cal something to help her scratch an itch. He didn't hesitate to put his thought into words either. It was just insulting.
"Oh, so you're above spandex but you'll put that thing on and let it show you off all your assets all the way down to your belly button?" On any one else Dean would have considered it a work of art…truly. On Cal it did nothing but annoy the hell out of him. He didn't know whether to wipe his chin or avert his eyes.
"What this old thing?" she asked coyly. "It's just a little something I picked up for just such an occasion…I mean, we are hitting the nightlife tonight right? Hunting recon?" The incredulous look he gave her made her want to laugh. It was just too easy to get a rise out of the boy… this was almost as fun as beating him at his own fixed poker game the night before. She didn't know why he was so surprised… a girl had to make a living right? She had a couple of tricks up her sleeve…A girl had to take care of herself, didn't she? That hundred she'd taken off his hands yesterday certainly would help her do that, she thought to herself with a Cheshire cat grin.
"A little less of that thing you're trying to wear sweetheart and it'll disappear entirely." Ha, who did he think he was kidding? This was her best cruising blouse. It had never failed her. Not once. She was getting to him and she was really enjoying it.
"What's the matter Dean, never seen skin before?"
He sputtered at that a little before recovering with a wisecrack. She had him off balance and he hated it. "Oh, I've seen my fair share… doesn't mean I'm just going to sit back and let you go out like that. I mean there's showing a little skin and then there's just plain indecent."
"Um Dean…I hate to point this out but you tend to lean toward the indecent ones yourself." Sam just couldn't resist putting his two cents in. 'Hate to point it out' he says… yeah right. The smirk his little brother couldn't hide told Dean just exactly how much Sam really was enjoying this little scene.
"Just shut up Sam. You are not helping."
"Ooh, Sam hit a nerve there did he?" Caitlin O'Sullivan, half Irish, half French Canadian and fifth generation demon hunter did not back down for anyone. If Cal wanted to wear her slinky little number she darned well would. There was absolutely nothing Dean Winchester, ladies man extraordinaire, could say to change her mind about it. Of course that didn't mean she wouldn't have a little fun playing with him in the process. That had been the reason she'd picked that particular blouse in the first place
Dean was really starting to hate the stubborn set to her jaw that had impressed him so much when they'd first met twenty four hours earlier. Back then it had been directed at the spirit they'd been trying to kill… the one she'd held off while he and Sam finished the salt and burn of its old decaying bones. The tip of the fresh scar peeked out from behind the scrap of black silkiness just next to her belly button. She'd really held her own, but they'd had to save her ass then too. The girl was an accident prone ticking time bomb.
Now after all that he couldn't believe she was giving him 'I won't back down' over something stupid like a practically non-existent blouse. Blouse. Right. Sure, if you could even call it that More like a wide ribbon…Oh, and let's not even start on the jeans… good God if they were any more form fitting they'd be painted on! They'd be beating off the sleaze bags with their pool cues. If they were lucky the night wouldn't end in a brawl. There would be no information gleaning tonight. On top of it all, he wouldn't be able to have any fun himself. Man, tonight was really going to suck.