A/N Sorry it's late.
Warning: Contains implied adult content.
Just so you know, I don't know where the idea for this one came from.
Here's To You Mrs. Robinson
The curse, prompted by a noise outside, startles eighteen-year-old Dean out of his euphoria. His thirtysomething partner looks at him desperately, "Look uh, Don…"
"Whatever. You gotta go—my husband's home."
"Sorry?" she shrugs sheepishly, "Seriously kid, go! If he catches us…"
Detangling himself from the sheets, Dean scrambles out of bed, grabs his clothes, haphazardly throws them on and starts out the window.
"You were good though," she winks at him. "See you at school tomorrow."
"Yeah, bye Ms. G."
Dean makes his getaway, unsure of whether to feel proud of himself or used.