#finger's crossed imma vamp this time

[geekwiththegoggles]

Imma throw this here, will be cleaning up character ref's soon! I swear... I will...

[aerodaltonimperial]

Listen, Imma be real with y'all for a second.

In 2022, the Chrono Cross remaster came out for PS4. And that summer, I wrote a 50k epic about my two favorites from twenty years ago and dropped it on a long-dead fandom for an absolute rarepair. It was one of the most ridiculous, fruitless things I've ever written. I knew very few people would read it. I think I never got more than 50 hits on it. I did it anyway, because it was fun and I had a great time and I knew it was good. And then I got into wrestling, so I sort of never looked back at it, because I was writing other things.

I cannot tell you how many times I have opened up my AO3 account in the past... 6 months or so, and thought, so, people were only my friends while I was writing what they wanted, huh? I stopped writing this, and people just fled? I have opened up my old Hookhausen fics and sat with one finger hovering over the delete button so many times, because if that's all people cared about from me, I was gonna nuke it out of spite. I'm not necessarily proud of it, but it's felt awful this past half a year writing in such a bubble, and as my therapist can attest to, when I feel hurt, I lash out to hurt other people in turn. Vamp is the only reason I won't do it. But it's been so hard being plunged back into writing alone after so long of people caring what I was doing. It felt like writing that CC fic again, only this time, I knew that people had simply lost interest. In me as a person, really.

Fic is the only place I feel worth anything as a writer. Years of failure, and fandom is my only source of positive feelings about my own words and my own work. It's hard to lose that, especially in the wake of giving up a decade-long dream. It's HARD to lose the only thing keeping you going with a hobby, and I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been handling it well. I used fandom interaction on my fic to help fill all the pieces left exposed and smarting from failing at trad pub over and over and over. It's not a bad thing to do, really - a lot of writers suggest doing this, to help build motivation and confidence while trying to get published. But it only works when there are people there to read your fic, haha. Fandom, for me, has been contributing to my depression symptoms big time. At one point, my therapist suggested maybe I should step out of fandom and fic writing, because it was spiraling my mental health. And to have him tell me that, after our years together, really opened my eyes to how bad it had gotten for me in regards to my self-worth and self-confidence.

I got a comment on that CC fic this morning. It happens so rarely that it really caught me off-guard, but it was one of the nicest things ever, and I sat reading it thinking... okay. This is worth it, isn't it? That fic has been there for years, garnering so little attention it wouldn't have mattered if I had deleted it. I was reminded this morning that it does matter. That single comment on an obscure fandom that peaked twenty years ago and still never had many people in it, made me feel like spending my time in fandom is still something worth doing. I can't thank that reader enough for taking the time to leave it for me. If you ever think that your interaction with people's work doesn't matter, I hope this helps you feel differently. Maybe people aren't reading your fics right now, but maybe they'll find a fic you poured your heart and soul into a couple of years later.

Not sure why I am posting this LOL. I expect people will unfollow me. Sometimes, I feel like I can't talk about these things without seeming like a bitch, but y'all already know I'm a bitch anyway. 🤣 We write fic because we love it, because we adore the source material, because we have passion for the characters. But we post because we want to share and connect with people. It just feels so much like that second part has somehow gotten lost recently. Anyway. Back to your regularly scheduled Tumblr lives. 💚

[rosesareviolentlyread]

Hey Rosyyyyyy!

You wanted a prompt! Imma GIVE YOU A FUCKING PROMPT!

So....how do you feel about stress positions? Hmm? Hands tied tight behind a whumpees back connected to their ankles while gagged and bleeding from a knife dug into their shoulder and being twisted by a whumper who was them to give them just a few more minutes, darling?

Thanks for the prompt Vee!! Have some vamp whump:

Whumpee struggled to stay balanced, knees spread apart as they leaned back painfully, hands tightly strapped to their ankles. It would be so so easy to just fall, to lean back and at least give their screaming muscles a break. To breathe outside the gagged screams. 

Except for the knife. 

White hot pain radiated through their body, and even as warmth slide down their body it felt like molten lead was being moved around by it, weighing them down. Their body ached with its heaviness, pressing it further and further toward the ground that would only drive the blade in further. THey struggled to keep their breathing under control as sweat dripped down their face, salt stinging their eyes as the gag became more wet with their panting. Everything was wet and hot and they felt like they were boiling alive. 

“Just a few more minutes darling, and you’ll be ripe and ready” Whumper, circling, crossed into their field of vision, shocking them from their painful concentration. They struggled to regain the focus, the balance needed lest they fall and make things worse. 

Things could be so much worse. 

Whumper bopped a finger on their nose, smiling sweetly. “Look at you, bright as a cherry. I just can’t wait to eat you up my little piggy”

At their mocking words they reached behind twisting the knife. Whumpee screamed in agony, nearly choking on the balled fabric in their mouth as their back arched, wrist straining painfully against rope until red burns began to bleed. 

Everything was red, red, red. They must be bleeding everywhere, it felt like the stench of blood was everywhere, always. Except on Whumper. 

Never on whumper. 

“I do appreciate you being so patient, it takes time you know. Some like to just gobble up the first piece of meat that crosses their path, but I know. I know the ways we can cook, just like the humans. Taste is after all chemicals, and oh, there are so many chemicals you produce.” 

Whumper licked their lips, wicked fangs popping out, as they bit their lip. “I have to be patient too you know. You could be a bit more conscientious and stop screaming, it only makes me hungrier. In fact, I think I’m tired of waiting if you’re going to scream so well for me” 

With lightning fast, sharp fingers whumper ripped the gag out of their mouth, leaving whumpee spluttering and coughing. One hand gripped whumpee’s face holding it in their view, forcing them to lock eyes, while the other ripped the knife out of whumpee’s back. 

But whumpee couldn’t scream. Couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Because locking eyes with the creature in front of them, they realized there was a far worse color than the painful red coating them. 

As whumper latched onto the wound with a moan, sucking on their open wound, whumpee learned the worst color was a deep, empty soulless black.

[seenashwrite]

The (Once) Demon Barber From Robintree

Word Count: 1.4K   Category: One-shot, Behind-the-scenes canon compliant, Friendship-Turns-To-More, Humor, Fluff Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Reader/Female O.C. Pairing(s): Sam x Reader/Female O.C. Warnings: None Author’s Note: *This is a re-post without tags and links in an effort to get it to show in searches*; from a reader’s request to do something involving a haircut Overall Summary: Sometimes accidents *do* happen accidentally, but most of the time, turns out it’s Dean. Now you might lose something you’ve worked hard for - though when it comes to Sam, perhaps you’ll gain something more.

“Peanut butter.”

“Second thing I tried.”

“Olive oil.”

“Third thing.”

“Wait, what was the first thing?”

“When Dean used two handfuls of a $40, six-ounce, brand-new tube of my conditioner.”

“Oh, shut up, Sam!” Dean exclaimed, and when he did, my head snapped to the side.

Because he was in a hand-talking mood. Because he was annoyed. And because his fingers were tangled in my hair.

So I jabbed my elbow behind me, but he dodged it and snickered.

“I’m gonna go get the scissors.”

“No!” Sam and I shouted at the same time.

“No,” I repeated, and quietly, trying to force myself into a calmer state. “This is fixable. We have beaten worse.”

Sam nodded, gave my knee a squeeze, continued to have that never-ending, grade-A, Sam-patented brand of sincere sympathy in his eyes.  

And Dean continued to - I can only assume - pluck individual hairs from my scalp.

Slowly.

“Dean!”

“What?!”

“Bag in the kitchen, on the table - I got shortening, too.”

“I don’t—”

“GET THE DAMN CRISCO, DEAN!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got the gum in your hair, okay?” he said, coming around the chair to frown at me.

“You’re the one who gave the kid the gum. Still don’t know why—”

“Stopped his crying, didn’t it?”

“—or where you even got the friggin’ stuff!”

“It was on the floor. Y'know, those little machines that got knocked over.”

“You knocked them over!”

“Did you miss all of the vamps in that store?! I’m not bitching about you taking out that mountain of apples—”

“What in the blue HELL do APPLES have to DO with the KID that you THREW at me—”

“I did NOT, I just HANDED him—”

“You LAUNCHED him like you were at the FREE-throw line, you motherf—”

“Okay! Okay, guys!” Sam cut in, standing from his crouched position beside me.

He held his hands up, like he was trying to show a pack of attacking animals that he was no threat. I closed my eyes, since I was getting a migraine. Dean crossed his arms, because he’s twelve.  

“Let’s try this last thing, take a break while it…. while it….”

“Makes her crust all nice and flaky?” Dean asked.

“Ass.”

“Likewise.”

“AAAAND,” Sam cut back in, shooting Dean a look as he did so, “then we’ll discuss cutting. That sound like a plan?”

Dean went off to the kitchen and Sam grabbed one of the other chairs, bringing it over and sitting directly in front of me. I glanced at the table. The remains of our failed experiments looked like some sort of bizarro-world, condiment-based hair salon.

“Hey, talk to me,” Sam said, and I turned my eyes back to his.

“It’s just hair,” I told him. Told myself.

“You trying to convince me?”

Mind-reader. That made me smile. But only a little.

“I’ll cut mine, too,” he added on.

And even though I burst into laughter at the mere thought of it, this - of all things - was what prompted the tears that had been waiting in the wings to finally make their grand entrance.

His forehead immediately creased, then he took both my hands in his, the big softie, and for once I decided to let somebody hold my hand - literally and metaphorically.  And he decided to keep his mouth shut and let me sniffle for the five-point-two seconds I allowed myself to do so.  And then we both decided one of my hands should slip away so I could wipe at my nose with my sleeve.

I let my hand drift to the side, tucking a few gooey pieces of hair behind my ear, let my fingertips slip through, let them run down, all the way to the ends. Kept them there, too. Now I was winding and twisting, something I’d never really done before, but it seemed apt - we were working towards a now or never situation.

“It’s taken years, you know?  It was already short when I was old enough to hunt - Ma always kept it looking like I was two steps away from enlisting my entire childhood. Then it was growing, and I just had to go and chop it because I liked Jody’s haircut so much, and before you say—”

“You pulled it off.”

“—it, no, I did not pull it off.” I looked down at our clasped hands resting on my lap. “Ma said it a million times, if it was too long, it was gonna get in my way.”

“Not exactly what happened, and you had it up… which, you know, is probably how the gum…”

“Oozed from one side to the other when I unwound it? Yeeeeeaahh.”

“Anyway, I’m sure she meant more like… something grabbing onto it, using it against you.”

“Well, I got a feeling that’s not gonna be an issue anymore.”

Dean came walking back in, beer in one hand, scrolling through something on his phone with the other.

Sam waited for him to get well past the threshold of the door, giving him more than a fair shot to tune in to the rest of the world. “Hello?”

Dean looked up, still coming towards us. “Yeah?”

“Where. Is. The. Grease.”

I’d said it with the same growl of an accusation I’d used on that kid, when I’d passed him off to his father and asked after the giant wad missing from his stupid fat cheek.

Dean turned on his heel without breaking stride, heading back upstairs. “If I had a dime for every time a woman said…” he trailed off over his shoulder.

“‘Woman’,” I repeated softly. “Huh. I think that’s my problem. I’m a grown-up. Not supposed to have long, time-consuming, adds-to-an-already-messy-life hair when you’re my age. Supposed to keep it as uncomplicated as possible. So you get whatever TV mom cut’s the most popular at the time. That’s what women do, that’s a thing, right?”

Sam shrugged. "Doesn’t have to be your thing.“ Then he shot me a crooked little grin, ran his free hand through his hair. ”Our thing,“ he clarified.

And something about the way he said it… something about the way he was moving his thumb over my knuckles… if I were honest, something about the way we’d been looking at each other since about five minutes after we met…

"What is gonna be our thing?” I asked.

We were staring at each other, neither of us knowing the answer, when Dean jogged back in, carrying that same beer and nothing else.

“I looked in all the bags, it’s not….” A brief pause while he - accurately - read the mood of the room. “Yeah, well, uh, Imma go check under the seats of the—”

“Hey, Dean?” I interrupted, still looking at Sam.

“Hmmm?”

“Just go find something to whack this crap off, will ya?”

“Awesome!”

I swear to god, it sounded like he skipped down the hallway.

“I’ll do it,” Sam told me.

“You’ll get all nervous.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re nervous right now.”

We’d been drifting closer, ever-so-slightly, and now were almost nose-to-nose.

“First kisses tend to do that,” he whispered against my lips.

Eventually Dean bounded back into the room, and we pulled apart, turning at the same time to see him standing there with a no-nonsense expression on his face. He was flipping an angel blade. His eyes were practically dilated, and were absolutely sparkling with glee.

“Scissors are busted. Gotta do this cowboy-style!”

“Did you get possessed between here and your room!? And cowboys didn’t—-”

“I’ll do it,” Sam repeated, this time with more authority and beginning to rise from his chair, but ol’ Sweeney Dean had already come behind me and snatched up the middle section of my hair.

“Hey, knock yourself out - of the two of us, ain’t nobody calling me the hair expert,” Dean said, and he flipped the blade one last time, holding it handle-first towards Sam.

“No, no, no,” I told Sam, and he sat again.

“Are you sure?”

“Your job is to hold my hand." And I gripped both of his, probably too hard, but Sam just smiled.

"Long as you need.”

“Won’t be long at all!” Dean announced, and I gasped at the sudden lightness, cool air hitting the back of my neck for the first time in what felt like eons.  

He actually chuckled at my reaction, the maniac, now stepping to the side to continue his hack-job. Sam’s smile turned toothy, though, and my shoulders instantly relaxed - another thing that had seemed eons-gone. Part of me wondered if I’d just traded one set of tangles for another.

That is, til he slipped a hand out from mine and ran it across the side of my neck, then to the back, rubbing gently as Dean kept lopping away.

“This is good,” he said.

“Not bad,” Dean agreed.

“It’s perfect,” I told them.

And it has been.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

[tobythewise]

A for apple! 🍎🍎🍎

~A is for apple~

“Sammy, why did you stop?” Dean asked as he rubbed his eyes.He and Sam were on their way to take care of a vamp nest.

“There’s a farmer’s stand on the side of the road. I wannagrab some organic fruit for the road.” Dean groaned. He didn’t understand hisbrother’s obsession with organic food. We are men, not rabbits! “Come on, Dean.Just come and see if anything interests you. We have to stop for the night anyways.I just want something to eat that’s not fast food!”

Dean grumbled, “Fine! Let’s go,” as he made his way out ofthe car. He crossed the street making his way towards the stand when he noticedthe gentleman manning the stand. He was sitting on a chair with his feet up onthe table reading a magazine. He had aviators on and sported a messy mop ofblack hair and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Honestly, Deanthought he was really hot. “Might be interested in something after all, Sammy,”he murmured to his brother.

“Seriously?” He asked, looking towards the stand, “Twentybucks says he shoots you down.” 

“Oh, you are so on!” Dean knew he was an attractive man. Henever had issues when it came to flirting. He put on his best smile and walkedup to the stand radiating as much confidence as he could. Just as they made itto the stand, the guy lifted his aviators from his eyes and placed them on thetop of his head. Blue. Beautiful, sky blue eyes that made Dean stop and stare. Hetook a deep breath and placed a smirk on his face. 

“Hey there gorgeous.” 

The guy huffed. “Does that line usually work for you?” 

Sam started laughing, not even trying to hide it. Dean’sface faltered for a second in embarrassment. Keep it together Winchester. You’vecome back from worse. The guy looked to his brother making small talk. “Nicecar. You guys road tripping or something?” 

“We’re traveling for work. And actually, that would beDean’s car.” 

The guy hummed his acknowledgement, “Explains why you haveno game. Relying too heavily on your ridiculous good looks and beautiful car.Must be a real panty peeler.” 

Dean just smirked and replied, “So, you think I’m goodlooking?” Sam started laughing at Dean again. 

“That would be the thing you heard.” The guy looked back toSammy. “So, you see anything you like?” The guy stood up and gestured to theproduce laid out in the stand. Dean noticed the guy better now that he wasstanding. He was only a few inches shorter than Dean. He was built like arunner and Dean wanted to see just how fit he was under that shirt. 

“Yeah, I just want a bag of those blueberries and some ofthose apples please.” 

“No problem,” the guy said as he started grabbing the thingsSam wanted. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off of the dude’s hands. The movementof his slender fingers seemed to mesmerize him. He needed to act fast if he wasgoing to win this bet. He knew this guy wasn’t interested but maybe he couldstill wiggle his way into winning that twenty bucks. 

“Sammy, why don’t you take this to the car and I’ll pay.”Sammy sent him bitch face number nine his way. 

“Really Dean? You’re gonna pay for my organic fruit.” Dean just leveled his brother with a stare ofhis own. “Fine. Just hurry up.” 

Dean watched his brother make his way to the car. He turnedback to the beautiful man in front of him and noticed him smirking. 

“That will come to ten dollars, Dean.” Dean fumbled to gethis wallet out. He started taking out the money when he started stumbling withhis words.

“So, umm, this is gonna sounds crazy. And, like, don’t freakor anything, but umm… My brother bet me that I couldn’t get a date with youtonight and I’m really hoping to prove him wrong. Nothing serious or anything.Just ummm, could I maybe take you to dinner or something?” Dean could feel hisface was hot and red and he was looking everywhere but the man in front of him.When he finally stopped talking and took a breath he finally made eye contactwith the guy. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The guy had a giant grinon his face. The kind that was full of teeth and gums and made his eyes squintyand his nose crinkles. It made his heart beat faster and his stomach flip. Thisman was honestly breathtaking. 

“Alright. But I have one condition.” Dean’s stomach didanother flip. Is this guy seriously considering it? 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“You let me drive that beautiful car of yours.” Dean bit hislip thinking. That was his Baby and no one drove her. Was this really worthtwenty bucks? But then he was met with those blue eyes again the answer seemed soeasy. 

“Fine. As long as you promise to drive the speed limit andpull over as soon as I say so.” The toothy grin was back and damn, Dean woulddo anything to keep that smile on his face. 

“Give me your phone.” Dean handed it over and the guyprogramed his number into it. He took his phone back when the guy grabbed Deanby his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean was so surprised that hedidn’t even have a chance to kiss back before he was pulling away again. Thesmile on Dean’s face was so big it hurt his cheeks. 

“Dude, I just realized I don’t even know your name.” 

The guy smiled and told him, “Castiel.” He sat back down andstarted reading his magazine again like he hadn’t just kissed Dean. 

Dean got into his car and smirked over at his brother. Samjust huffed and slapped a twenty into Dean’s hand. 

Later that night, after Castiel had driven the Impala intothe middle of nowhere the boys found themselves laying on the hood of the carlooking up at the stars. They chatted about their siblings. Apparently, Castieldoesn’t normally work at that stand where they met. His brother, Gabe, owns itand needed Castiel to cover. 

When they started talking about work, Dean went with a coverstory of a head hunter. It’s not like he could go ahead and tell this guy thathe and his brother were on their way to take care of a nest of vampires.Castiel talked about a shop he owned in town. They talked about how Sam wouldlove to retire and stay in one place, maybe open up a base command type thing.Dean on the other hand loved the open road and would miss it far too much. Deanhadn’t been on a real date like this in a long time. It was really refreshingand he was loving the company. Him and Castiel just seemed to click. On theirdrive back to town Dean even went so far as to reached over and grabbedCastiel’s hand. 

“You know, I don’t normally do this sorta thing.” 

“Let people drive your car?”

Dean snorted. “Yes, but no. I mean go on dates. We travel somuch that I usually just pick someone up for the night. But honestly, I’m gladI didn’t do that in this town.” 

“I’m glad too, Dean.” Cas said as he got out of the car.“Especially since I don’t put out on the first date,” he finished with a winkand walked towards his apartment. As Dean made his way back to his hotel room,he couldn’t think of anything that could possible wipe the smile off his face. 

That’s how Dean started up a real, honest to God,relationship with Castiel. They texted and called each other every day andwhenever Dean was anywhere close to Cas’ town he would swing by so they couldspend some time together, mostly in bed. The only problem was that Dean stillhadn’t told Cas what Sam and Dean did when they traveled. It was started toweigh on Dean but he just didn’t want to risk losing Cas. 

About three months after they met, Dean made his way intothe now familiar town. He went to pick up Castiel from his apartment and foundthat his boyfriend wasn’t home. Dean knew that meant Cas was working in theshop that he owned. It’s funny, Dean’s never actually been to the shop beforetoday. He was thinking about that fact as he strolled up to its doors. He wasgiving the windows a once over when his breathe caught in his throat. He felthis heart speed up and felt unbelief fill his chest. There in the corner of thewindow was the universal hunter sign letting hunters know this place waswelcome to them and had real supplies they might need. 

Dean burst through the doors and bee lined to where Casstanding behind the counter. Castiel saw Dean and had a huge gummy smile on hisface until he realized Dean looked distressed. 

“Babe! What’s wrong?” 

Dean just barreled up to Cas and grabbed in a tight, bonecrushing hug. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed into his boyfriend’s neck. 

“Dean, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?” 

“That symbol on your window,” Dean says softly as he finallylooks around the store. It’s exactly like the other shops that Dean and hisbrother have gone to for supplies. Random nick nacks, trinkets, and books thatlook new agey but among them are harmless things that hunters would need forspells and such. Dean had no doubt the more ‘crazy’ things are hidden in theback. He finally looked back at Cas who looked spooked. 

“Are you… Dean, are you a hunter?” 

Dean just grabs Castiel tighter, “Yeah Cas. Imma hunter. Iwas so afraid to tell you cause I assumed you’d think I was crazy but youknow!” Dean felt in awe that the man in his arms actually knew about him. Itfelt like a weight was lifted from his chest. 

“Dean, I never let you come see the shop because I thoughtyou would think I was a crazy hippie or something.” Castiel started laughing ashe kissed Dean breathless. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to hide this from you. Cas,” hehelp the man at arm’s length so he could look him in the eyes. “Cas, I loveyou.” He heard Castiel’s intake of breathe. 

“Dean, I love you too.” He gave Dean one of his favoritesmiles that included scrunched eyes and gummy smile.

Six months later

Dean was hauling Castiel’s bag into the Impala’s trunk. Theyjust finished packing up everything from Castiel’s apartment and moving it intoa storage unit behind Castiel’s old shop. Once the bags were in the trunk hemade his way to the driver’s door and got in. He started his Baby up and madehis way out of town. 

“Are you worried about leaving Sam here alone?” Cas asked ashe reached over to hold Dean’s hand. This is the first time Dean and Castielwere leaving Sam for a hunt. Dean was afraid he wouldn’t handle leaving withouthis brother but he was feeling at ease as he gazed over at his new shotgunoccupant. 

“Nah. He’s not really alone. There’s Gabe and lately he’sbeen flirting with that woman who owns the coffee shop in town. He’ll be okay.”And he honestly means it. “Besides, he’s always wanted to set up shop and stayin one place while also being able to help the hunting community. Now he can dothat thanks to you Cas.” 

“Well, I’m glad I can make you both happy.” 

Dean looked over at his boyfriend with a fond smile on hisface, “You do Cas. You make me so happy. I never thought I would be able tohave this. I’m so thankful Sam wanted those stupid organic apples.” 

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand, “And I’m so thankful that Sam madethat stupid bet.” 

Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel’s temple, “Best twentybucks I ever won.”

[seenashwrite]

The (Once) Demon Barber From Robintree

Status: Complete Word Count: 1.4K   Category: One-shot, Behind-the-scenes canon compliant, Friendship-Turns-To-More, Humor Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Reader/Female O.C. Pairing(s): Sam x Reader/Female O.C. Warnings: None Author’s Note: Reader “Ask” is HERE. Overall Summary: Sometimes accidents *do* happen accidentally, but most of the time, turns out it’s Dean. Now you might lose something you’ve worked hard for - though when it comes to Sam, perhaps you’ll gain something more.

"Peanut butter."

"Second thing I tried."

"Olive oil."

"Third thing."

"Wait, what was the first thing?"

"When Dean used two handfuls of a $40, six-ounce, brand-new tube of my conditioner."

"Oh, shut up, Sam!" Dean exclaimed, and when he did, my head snapped to the side.

Because he was in a hand-talking mood. Because he was annoyed. And because his fingers were tangled in my hair.

So I jabbed my elbow behind me, but he dodged it and snickered.

"I'm gonna go get the scissors."

"No!" Sam and I shouted at the same time.

"No," I repeated, and quietly, trying to force myself into a calmer state. "This is fixable. We have beaten worse."

Sam nodded, gave my knee a squeeze, continued to have that never-ending, grade-A, Sam-patented brand of sincere sympathy in his eyes.  

And Dean continued to - I can only assume - pluck individual hairs from my scalp.

Slowly.

"Dean!"

"What?!"

"Bag in the kitchen, on the table - I got shortening, too."

"I don't---"

"GET THE DAMN CRISCO, DEAN!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who got the gum in your hair, okay?" he said, coming around the chair to frown at me.

"You're the one who gave the kid the gum. Still don't know why---"

"Stopped his crying, didn't it?"

"---or where you even got the friggin’ stuff!"

"It was on the floor. Y'know, those little machines that got knocked over."

"You knocked them over!"

"Did you miss all of the vamps in that store?! I'm not bitching about you taking out that mountain of apples---"

"What in the blue HELL do APPLES have to DO with the KID that you THREW at me---"

"I did NOT, I just HANDED him---"

"You LAUNCHED him like you were at the FREE-throw line, you motherf---"

"Okay! Okay, guys!" Sam cut in, standing from his crouched position beside me. 

He held his hands up, like he was trying to show a pack of attacking animals that he was no threat. I closed my eyes, since I was getting a migraine. Dean crossed his arms, because he's twelve.  

"Let's try this last thing, take a break while it.... while it...."

"Makes her crust all nice and flaky?" Dean asked.

"Ass."

"Likewise."

"AAAAND," Sam cut back in, shooting Dean a look as he did so, "then we'll discuss cutting. That sound like a plan?"

Dean went off to the kitchen and Sam grabbed one of the other chairs, bringing it over and sitting directly in front of me. I glanced at the table. The remains of our failed experiments looked like some sort of bizarro-world, condiment-based hair salon. 

"Hey, talk to me," Sam said, and I turned my eyes back to his.

"It's just hair," I told him. Told myself.

"You trying to convince me?"

Mind-reader. That made me smile. But only a little.

"I'll cut mine, too," he added on.

And even though I burst into laughter at the mere thought of it, this - of all things - was what prompted the tears that had been waiting in the wings to finally make their grand entrance.

His forehead immediately creased, then he took both my hands in his, the big softie, and for once I decided to let somebody hold my hand - literally and metaphorically.  And he decided to keep his mouth shut and let me sniffle for the five-point-two seconds I allowed myself to do so.  And then we both decided one of my hands should slip away so I could wipe at my nose with my sleeve.

I let my hand drift to the side, tucking a few gooey pieces of hair behind my ear, let my fingertips slip through, let them run down, all the way to the ends. Kept them there, too. Now I was winding and twisting, something I’d never really done before, but it seemed apt - we were working towards a now or never situation.

"It's taken years, you know?  It was already short when I was old enough to hunt - Ma always kept it looking like I was two steps away from enlisting my entire childhood. Then it was growing, and I just had to go and chop it because I liked Jody's haircut so much, and before you say---"

"You pulled it off."

"---it, no, I did not pull it off." I looked down at our clasped hands resting on my lap. "Ma said it a million times, if it was too long, it was gonna get in my way."

"Not exactly what happened, and you had it up... which, you know, is probably how the gum..."

"Oozed from one side to the other when I unwound it? Yeeeeeaahh."

"Anyway, I’m sure she meant more like... something grabbing onto it, using it against you."

"Well, I got a feeling that's not gonna be an issue anymore."

Dean came walking back in, beer in one hand, scrolling through something on his phone with the other.

Sam waited for him to get well past the threshold of the door, giving him more than a fair shot to tune in to the rest of the world. "Hello?"

Dean looked up, still coming towards us. “Yeah?”

“Where. Is. The. Grease.” 

I’d said it with the same growl of an accusation I'd used on that kid, when I'd passed him off to his father and asked after the giant wad missing from his stupid fat cheek.

Dean turned on his heel without breaking stride, heading back upstairs. “If I had a dime for every time a woman said...” he trailed off over his shoulder.

"'Woman'," I repeated softly. "Huh. I think that's my problem. I'm a grown-up. Not supposed to have long, time-consuming, adds-to-an-already-messy-life hair when you're my age. Supposed to keep it as uncomplicated as possible. So you get whatever TV mom cut's the most popular at the time. That's what women do, that's a thing, right?"

Sam shrugged. "Doesn't have to be your thing." Then he shot me a crooked little grin, ran his free hand through his hair. "Our thing," he clarified.

And something about the way he said it... something about the way he was moving his thumb over my knuckles... if I were honest, something about the way we'd been looking at each other since about five minutes after we met...

"What is gonna be our thing?" I asked.

We were staring at each other, neither of us knowing the answer, when Dean jogged back in, carrying that same beer and nothing else.

"I looked in all the bags, it's not....” A brief pause while he - accurately - read the mood of the room. “Yeah, well, uh, Imma go check under the seats of the---"

"Hey, Dean?" I interrupted, still looking at Sam.

"Hmmm?"

"Just go find something to whack this crap off, will ya?"

"Awesome!"

I swear to god, it sounded like he skipped down the hallway.

"I'll do it," Sam told me.

"You'll get all nervous."

"Why do you say that?"

“Because you're nervous right now.”

We'd been drifting closer, ever-so-slightly, and now were almost nose-to-nose.

"First kisses tend to do that,” he whispered against my lips.

Eventually Dean bounded back into the room, and we pulled apart, turning at the same time to see him standing there with a no-nonsense expression on his face. He was flipping an angel blade. His eyes were practically dilated, and were absolutely sparkling with glee.

“Scissors are busted. Gotta do this cowboy-style!”

“Did you get possessed between here and your room!? And cowboys didn't----"

"I'll do it," Sam repeated, this time with more authority and beginning to rise from his chair, but ol' Sweeney Dean had already come behind me and snatched up the middle section of my hair.

"Hey, knock yourself out - of the two of us, ain't nobody calling me the hair expert," Dean said, and he flipped the blade one last time, holding it handle-first towards Sam.

"No, no, no," I told Sam, and he sat again.

"Are you sure?"

"Your job is to hold my hand." And I gripped both of his, probably too hard, but Sam just smiled.

"Long as you need."

"Won't be long at all!" Dean announced, and I gasped at the sudden lightness, cool air hitting the back of my neck for the first time in what felt like eons.  

He actually chuckled at my reaction, the maniac, now stepping to the side to continue his hack-job. Sam’s smile turned toothy, though, and my shoulders instantly relaxed - another thing that had seemed eons-gone. Part of me wondered if I'd just traded one set of tangles for another.

That is, til he slipped a hand out from mine and ran it across the side of my neck, then to the back, rubbing gently as Dean kept lopping away.

"This is good," he said.

"Not bad," Dean agreed.

"It's perfect," I told them.

And it has been.

See Nash Write : Master  /  See Nash Write : Mobile

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