#culebraed

12: Chest Kiss

She isn’t really sure how this happened. She figures they must be used to it by now– it all went so fast, she can’t imagine they haven’t had experience. One second she was eating Cap’n Crunch and watching cartoons and the next Seth was saying something about an investigator outside and before she knew it Richie had an arm around her middle and was hauling her into a closet. To hide, presumably, but knowing Richie, this might be some kind of weird Seven Minutes in Heaven kind of thing. Whatever. She’s not complaining.

He’s got his gun in one hand and the other over her mouth (like she’d actually make a noise, she’s almost insulted), and she can smell his aftershave. Seth is talking to somebody– a policeman? A private eye? She can’t tell, she can only hear snippets of the conversation. He’s saying something about how Harley is dangerous and unstable and like to manipulate people and she’ll sell anyone to Satan for one corn chip blah blah blah. Harley’s already lost focus. Not hard to do that, when Richie’s shirt isn’t buttoned all the way and she’s crammed into his lap.

She wiggles out from beneath his hand (feels an awful lot like a hostage situation, but still, she’s not complaining) and shifts to a more comfortable position, with the side of her head pressed against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat. She can hear him make some quiet noise in the back of his throat that probably amounts to aw, come on, can’t you hold still for thirty seconds too. Don’t worry, Richie. She’s a professional.

               ❝   HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT ?  nothing’s changed  ------  i can’t help you.   ❞

“-- Hey. Hey, Richie.” They’ve never actually met, but she knows it’s him through a combination of interrogating Seth and Google results for ‘Gecko brothers crime’. She’s interested, to say the least.

          a regular hunt, that’s what they told him anyways and like hell he was going to pass up the offer. with sammy on speed dial, the winchester wanders his way south into a bar where low and behold  ;  she’s there. a babe  (  deadly nonetheless  )  dean had to remember to keep his eyes on the prize. meaning one head of a vampire coming right up and he’d be back at the motel by morning. settling himself up to the bar, he sits beside a man and orders himself a show of whiskey. award winning smile, there’s a charm about the wink before a glance is spared toward the young brunette woman. 

                               how in the hell was he going to do this. 

     dean couldn’t do this in the middle of a bar, would idle chit chat with a stranger suffice until she makes her move  ;  maybe. attention turns back toward the bartender. fingertips extend toward his glass and the shot goes down the hatch. emerald hues peer up at the mirror layered behind alcohol  ;  he’s got a clear shot. perfect. signaling the bartender, he orders up another shot but just before drink is to be grabbed  ; he gestures. 

                           ❝ oh tonight’s gonna be one hell of a night so why not get this guy a drink too. whatever y’want, man. ❞

        IT’S CHILD’S PLAY, moving his way through the ruins of whatever catastrophe he’d apparently carried himself into. a little LATE to the party, but no less ready for what might be in store for him once met with any kind of adversary.

        he’s almost disappointed once he located one of the SOURCES of the organized chaos just down the hall. the slow ticking that came with listening close to crack a safe was the only noise in the room, & yet it echoed like a BOMB counting down until it went kaboom. shoulders leaned back against a pillar  (  relatively close to the quiet presence  )  as arms shifted to cross over a broad chest ; debating how BEST to make himself known before going with the easiest option.