@seenashwrite  Nash, we only drink things softly. After we slowly twist the screw into the cork and marvel that the bottle is the same color as Dean’s orbs. Then admire the swirl and look down at the ground because of the sudden blush that those imposing men were looking at us. Now that we are all bashful and Rosy cheeked, then we ask them to open the wine the rest of the way, with their big calloused hands…

But not until I giggle, then nibble on my goddamned lower lip (you best believe softly) and look up at him through my long, thick eyelashes (though it’s not physically possible & would look fucking stupid even if it were) and dream (insert-adverb-here-like-wistfully-or-gingerly-or-longingly) of carding his hair (not unless he’s topped with wool) and then.... then.... I.... can’t.... I.....