A quick one-off for the wonder Dean Winchester's birthday! This is an idea that has been nagging at me since I saw the first episode of American Horror Story: Asylum. Here it is because why not!? Let's celebrate!

"Happy birthday, baby," Lizzy whispers to him as they walk quietly down the old asylum's hallways, guns and flashlights drawn and bodies close to each other.

"Seriously?" Dean asks, checking his watch quickly to confirm that she was right. Two minutes past midnight.

"Yeah," she smiles, keeping her eyes on their surroundings while following him, needing to wish him the best for one more year even amid a hunt. "The big three-oh."

"Don't remind me, huh?" Dean complains heavily. He doesn't want to think about it. Thirty years old. He's fucking thirty years old and he's still hunting. No pride in that for him.

"But it's a big birthday!" Lizzy whispers right back, adjusting her hold on the sawed off in her hand as she lays the barrel across her forearm to steady it. "Thirty! That's cause to celebrate if you ask me."

"Why… 'cause I never thought I'd see it?"

"Ok you morbid asshole, don't…"

"Shh," he tells her to quiet down and suddenly holds up his hand, stopping her in her tracks. Something fell up ahead. They both heard the unmistakable metal on concrete sound.

Motioning silently for her to follow him, Dean stalks down the long, crumbling hall, passing room after room of inpatient lodgings that have long since gone to lapsed decay.

Once they reach the end of the hallway where the sound emanated from, both enter the room and each take a side. Backs towards each other they look around to keep each other protected, they find a bedpan on the floor, most likely the cause for the loud clattering they heard.

"Ok… no animals running around this floor," Dean mentions quietly as he fails to find evidence of any real creatures in the area. "So what made the sound?"

"Beats the fuck outta me," Lizzy responds as she can't find anything either.

Poking around a little more, they check every cabinet and drawer in the dilapidated room for anything they can find. Dean reaches the back corner of the room where there's a closet door. Grasping onto the knob, he quietly talks to whomever will listen.

"Oh please be a birthday stripper-gram."

He yanks the door open swiftly, the bottom of it scraping the floor loudly, and there it is.

"I fucking rule at hide and go seek," Dean announces in his regular volume as Lizzy looks over at him.

"Aw, fuck…" she says with sadness as she looks at his findings. "The story is true?"

"Looks like it," Dean tells her, grabbing the cylindrical salt container from his outer jacket pocket.

"Fucking gross," she laments.

"Well, if the story is true then this d-bag totally deserved it," Dean tells her, assuming that the hung man is that of the local legend. The town claims that a homeless man would attacked people who trespassed in the building once he squatted there and called it his home. After time it was rumored that some teens on a vengeance trip after the guy hurt one of their girlfriends found him, beat him, and hung him in the building. Now his ghost loved to fuck with and hurt people, continuing the legend.

"Yeah, that's true," Lizzy admits while pulling out the lighter fluid and her phone. Dean cuts down the half-decayed body and lets it drop into a heap on the floor. "So, how does it feel?"

"How does what feel?" he wonders to her, popping the salt container's top.

"Being old?" she smirks as he sprinkles salt over the body.

"I'm not old," he denies completely, giving her the evil eye.

"You're acting old," she says in an annoyed tone, hands on her hips.

"No, I'm doing my job," Dean corrects her with agitation.

"Well, after we're done with the job what would you like to do?" She tosses him the lighter fluid and he catches it. He flips to spout open.

"Probably drink until the night disappears into a wonderful, deep black out," he tells her with all honesty.

"What!?" she asks, texting Sam at the same time to let him know they found the body and they'll meet him at the car once the burn is done. "Lame!"

"L, I'm exhausted." Dean pauses and looks over at her with his tired eyes. "It's been fucking busy. I want honest to God sleep for my birthday. Simple as that."

"Shit, you actually are old," she tells him while staring at her phone.

"Shut up," Dean grumbles.

Lizzy pockets her phone once she presses send. She watches as Dean lights up his Zippo and holds it to the edge of what's left of the clothing on the body. As it ignites she can see that he wasn't joking. He did look worn and a bit worse for the ware and it was his birthday after all. If he wants sleep, then he gets sleep.

"You seriously want to sleep for your birthday?" She walks up to stand next to him.

"Yes," he says, his tone sincere and beaten down.

"Well then once the flames go out I guess it's straight to bed for you young man," Lizzy pretends to scold as she brings her arms around his waist.

"Yes dear," he jokes back and sighs. He can't wait to sleep for as long as the day will let him.

Flames all out and spirit to rest, Dean and Lizzy head hand in hand back down the hallway they came from.

"So the yearly apple pie will have to wait," Lizzy warns him as they head out to meet Sam at the Impala.

"What!?" Dean nearly shouts with disappointment.

"We don't have an oven in our motel," she reminds him with a shrug. "The second we do you'll be having an entire pie to yourself… that is unless you want my pie first?" She smiles slickly up to him.

"Tempting offer," he huffs right back, the hallway opening up into the larger, former exam room they walked through earlier. Dean keeps walking towards the stairwell that leads out but Lizzy stops him, pulling his arm back. He turns to look at her questioningly.

"No, I mean it," she tells him. "Birthday sex is the best part of birthdays."

"Sure is, and I fully plan on cashing in on my gift… tomorrow." Dean turns to leave once more and once more he gets pulled back to her.

"What the fuck, Dean?" she asks him, a hand already running along the bottom of his green army jacket, her finger skimming along his skin just above the waist of his jeans. "Where's your sense of fun, huh grandpa?"

Dean just lifts an eyebrow in question, his curiosity starting to trump his tired state of mind. "Ok, youngin'. What'd you have in mind?"

Her eyes light up briefly when she can see that fun guy, that younger and less world-worn guy, break through. She misses him sometimes. Dean used to be so easy and much more carefree. This whole heaven/hell thing has changed him completely. It's made him less fun, honestly. Luckily she still knows how to find that guy she remembers from when they first met every now and then. Right now, he's standing in front of her and damn it she couldn't be happier for that.

"Hmm," she grins wide. Looking around the room she gets inspired when she sees the old rolling medical stretcher by the dirty window that's opaque with age.

Without a word she keeps her grip on his hand and pulls him over to the bed.

"Get on," she says to him with a smile.

"Yeah?" he questions, surprised by her. The place was long abandoned and a mess and God only knows what could have happened on the disgusting stretcher. Luckily it's suspicious stain free when he observes it's state. Just normal wear and some dirt and dust.

"Oh," she starts, pulling on the collar of his shirt to get him to lean forward. "Yeah. I'm totally sure." She kisses him with full, nasty intentions and he gets the message loud and clear.

"Well fucking alright," he says loudly, jumping up a bit and sitting on the foot of the cot before scooting back. He lays back on the rolling bed, the wheels caked with rust so that it remains unmoving. The adjustable back propped up so that when he leans onto it he's still sitting up. "So what… you're my naughty nurse?" he flashes her his pearly whites in excitement while she flashes him her lust coated brown eyes with devious intent.

"Sure," she says in a low, sexy tone as she climbs up into the bed and crawls over his reclined form. "If that's what you want."

"Oh baby, I want," he confirms as he leans up a bit and kisses her. Her tongue immediately seeks his and she places the salt round loaded gun at his side on the bed.

"So does that mean you're my insane inmate?" she asks, her lips still just touching his as she asks.

"I'll be whatever the fuck you want me to be," he tells her, suddenly too turned on to care what role he has in the moment. She's being bold and he loves that side of her. And she's not just giving him a good time for his birthday. No. She's clearly doing this because more than anything she just really wants to. Pressing his lips her hers hungrily, he reaches up and places a hand to either side of her neck, his fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of her neck.

Kissing him back, her mouth distracting him well enough, she brings her hands to rest atop his. Slowly and without him realizing, she takes one hand off of her neck and lowers it to his side. It isn't until he feels the strap tighten hard around his wrist that he stops kissing her and lets the quick panic hit him.

"What're you doing?" he asks with some fear as Lizzy secures the leather strap restrain that's attached to the cot completely, buckling it in and keeping his arm in place.

"You've been a bad boy today, Dean," Lizzy explains with emphasis. "Very bad."

"Have I?" he asks, smile returning as she takes up his other wrist and places it into the restraint on the other side of the rolling cot.

"Yes you have," she reinforces as she sits atop his hips. "You seem to think your birthday isn't important."

Dean watches with awe, his heart pounding as she tightens the belt around his wrist. With both arms tied down, making him completely helpless and at her mercy, he finds himself excited, a little scared, and ultimately so turned on it shouldn't be possible.

Sitting tall and letting her fingertips travel up his chest under his shirt, she smiles to him that same sexy, slightly evil smile he loves to see on her.

"You're wrong." She dips her head down and runs her tongue over the shell of his ear, Dean's breath hitching instantly. She lets her voice come out in a rumbling growl. "Your birthday means a lot of things, all of them good."

She begins backing down to the end of the bed again, dropping onto her feet and standing between where his boot-clad feet hang off the edge.

"It means you're still alive and in our profession that's an accomplishment no matter how you slice it," she says to him, licking her lips as she reaches for the front of his pants. "It means you're a good hunter."

"The best, baby," he says cockily while watching her pop free the button on his jeans.

"It also means that you are entitled to a good day," Lizzy tells him as she lowers his zipper and grabs the sides of his pants. "Twenty-four hours of what you want and only things that make you happy."

"Is that so?" he questions, lifting his hips to help her slide his clothing down. As he springs free from his pants Lizzy looks him over while licking her lips once more.

"That's very so," she confirms, pulling a lace on each boot to untie them simultaneously. She begins yanking his right one off first. "It's shame you had to be so pessimistic before though."

"Why's that?" Dean wants to know as his first boot hits the floor with a thud.

"Because now I have to punish you a little," Lizzy winks as she takes off his other boot. It drops to the floor just like the first and Dean narrows his eyes at her.

"Hey, punishment for the birthday boy?" he says with faux disbelief. "How is that fair?"

To this Lizzy just laughs as she pulls all his clothing from the waist down off. "Baby, I know you, ok? You're a fucking glutton for punishment in every sense of the word. You're fine with this."

Quickly considering it, Dean makes a face and nods his agreement. It was true. Life truly had done that to him.

"So, because of your Debbie Downer outlook on this big, awesome day… you're gonna stay strapped down." She smiles at him once more as she toes out of her boots and pulls off her jacket. "You've lost your privilege of being able to touch me."


Due to noncompliance with the Fiction M rating on the Fanfiction website, this content has been removed for the time being. This is to prevent deletion of this account and harassment by the Critics United group. This chapter will remain this way until I can personally update each story within the site rules. If you would like to read this story in its entirety, uncensored, please go to Archive of our Own to read it. The author name is DeepLittleSOB. Eventually this chapter will be posted there. I appreciate the patience. Please excuse the mess while we're under construction.

Trying to catch his breath, Dean lays back on the cot bonelessly. He opens his eyes when he hears the sound of shells popping and clattering to the floor. Watching her load the gun as she sits atop him he's found himself in complete awe of her. She's certifiable, he knows it now. But she's also amazing.

Aiming around the room, Lizzy jumps down from the cot. Quickly she sheds the sex kitten act and transforms right back into the alert, intense, and highly talented hunter she also is.

"Fucking amazing," Dean says almost to himself as Lizzy steals the tall container of salt from his jacket pocket. She flips the top off and peeks inside, happy to see that there's enough still in there. She quickly makes a circle around the cot, keeping both of them safe from harm. Once done she sighs with relief.

"Ok," she calmly announces. "We're good."

"I'm so good right now," Dean grins wide and looks over at her from his strapped down place.

"Unreal," she shakes her head disbelieving after a ghost had managed to find them during their session. "Can't even give my husband a proper, dirty fuck for his birthday without the supernatural world trying to take a shit all over it." She places the salt and gun on the bed and starts to unbuckle the restraints around his wrists one at a time. "Sorry baby."

"For what!?" Dean asks with wide eyes.

"For getting interrupted," she says with obviousness. "For thinking that being spontaneous would be a good idea with the lives we live. How wrong I was?"

"Fuck that," Dean tells her she is incorrect as she frees his left arm. He immediately grabs her forearm to make her pause and listen to him. She looks to him. "That was awesome."

"Really?" Lizzy question him and his sanity level.

"Lizzy, I swear you're completely blind to yourself," he tells her as he pulls her arm, making her climb back up on the cot and onto him. She sits atop him once more and he brings his left hand to her cheek. "Do you have any idea how fucking bad ass you are? How insanely hot you are?"

"You've lost it," he tells him with certainty.

"You just tore a ghost a new one… twice… while fucking my brains out," he explains his stance. "I mean come on! You're God damn Wonder Woman! First you get me outta my birthday funk. Then you strap me down to a dirty asylum bed, you start fucking touching yourself, my God! You just might have made one of my fantasies come true and I didn't even know this was a fantasy of mine until right now! That was the most intense, most fucking crazy thing I've ever done." He smiles a bit at this. "And to think that I had thought that being thirty was going to be the beginning of a boring life and me having to grow up."

"Hey, stick with me kid," she smirks right back. "I'm way younger than you. I'll keep you young with my immaturity."

"Awesome," Dean huffs a laugh and pulls her to him, leaving a burning kiss on her lips.

They both hear the shuffling off to the side and without looking, Lizzy grabs her shotgun in one hand. She turns and aims once more.

"Back off, bitch," she says with a smile as she pulls the trigger, the ghost disappearing. "It's my man's birthday."

Ah! Fun! Please review and the next chapter of 'Hey Babe, Take a Walk on the Wild Side' to be up soon!

PS - Last night's episode... EPIC!