lowkey ship: Destiel, 

highkey notp: Wincest

[softly] don’t notp: Jo/Dean

highkey ship but i’m scared of saying it because it’s not a very popular choice: Crowley/Lucifer

highkey ship and anyone on my tumblr knows it: Supernatural/Final Season (eleven seasons, you guys... c’mon now)

i’m always taking prompts - they’re so fun!  and here’s yours - the last thing before christmas tomorrow!  hopefully, you enjoy!

Jane had been staring at the blank screen of her computer for the better part of the day.  It had been unbelievably slow today, Patterson having not found anything relating to tattoos, and all the paperwork for previous cases, shockingly having been caught up on.  

Conceivably, she could’ve gone home several hours ago.   Hell, most everyone else had left already, rushing home to get to their families on Christmas Eve. But it seemed fruitless to her.  What was she going to do?  Stare at another blank screen in her safe house?  At least here she was surrounded by the living, unlike the definitely dead plant that she’d been given at her house warming party.  A sad, sad excuse of a Christmas tree, if she ever saw one.  And she wasn’t even sure she’d seen one before.

Her only companion, left on the wayside of her negligence. A thought that had crossed her mind about other companions, as well.

She’d spent many a night lately, staring at that sad plant, ruminating about the night that had shifted the already unsteady ground she’d been standing on.

The team had been understanding about her confession, Kurt even more so, much to her surprise.  And yet, despite the acceptance from them, she couldn’t help but beat herself up, almost convinced that if they just hated her as much as she hated herself, that maybe some sort of penance could be sought out.

Things with Kurt had been…awkward, lately, to say the least.  The closer he tried pull her to him, the further she pushed him away.  The roles having been clearly reversed.  She found herself fighting all her instincts, insisting that he was what she wanted.  But her head didn’t seem to agree, convincing her that she surely didn’t deserve anything good, and he was all good.

A shadow casts itself across her screen, the presence of someone lingering over her.  She knows it’s him before he says anything, the faint scent of his soap and something she could never quite place that was uniquely him, wafting through the air.

“Jane, will you come into my office for a minute?” he asks with a tone so serious, you’d think she was in trouble.

Her lips twitch with nerves, as she follows in his wake, making her way to a part of the building she can’t recall ever wandering into.

He stops at an unfamiliar door, holding it open for her to enter ahead of him.  He then glides past her, the door softly shutting, as he makes a conscious effort not to touch her as he passes.

Her eyes wander the new space, taking in the sterile appearance, much like the rest of the building.  The only sign of anyone ever being in here being a bookshelf visible to everyone from the door, and a comfortable looking couch tucked on the wall parallel to his desk.  A blanket hangs haphazardly over the arm, a pillow resting against it.

He’s slept here before.

“How come I’ve never seen your office before?” She asks before she can think to catch herself, her defenses having been lowered, taking pity on him, imagining his rather large form being squished on the couch for a restless night’s sleep.

He smiles at this, one of the few things she’s said to him that wasn’t work related since her admission.

“I haven’t really had the time to do much work in here lately,” he reasons.

She raises her eyebrows at that.

“You mean since I showed up,” she replies, self-deprecatingly.  Adding another tally mark to the number of ways she’s uprooted his life.

He sighs at that, pointing to the couch for her to sit.

Hesitantly she heeds his suggestion, but refuses to meet his eyes as he takes his place next to her.  Instead, shifting her gaze to various objects on the bookshelf, various books she’s never heard of, a baseball that looked to be signed by someone, several photos of Sawyer and Sarah, and one of her.

She flits her eyes to her lap, her hands wringing together, jaw clenching - the guilt radiating off of her in droves.

“Why did you want me?” she whispers, the double meaning not lost on Kurt.

“It’s Christmas Eve, what are your plans?” he asks, completely ignoring her question.

Jane cocks her head with a small smile, like he actually thought she had anywhere to be, anyone to be with.

“That’s what I thought, you’re coming home with me,” he matter of factly states, leaving her little room to argue

He moves to stand up, and she grabs his hand, violating the no contact rule they seemed to have placed on each other.

“Why do you still want me?” she whimpers, the internal turmoil of wanting what she didn’t think she deserved punctuated by every word.

She looks up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears, her pillar of strength since the moment she’d emerged from that bag.

“The same reason you want me,” he murmurs, brushing his hand against her cheek.

His response tickles a watery smile out of her.

“Come on,” he holds his hands out to help her off the couch, bringing their clasped hands to his chest as she stands.  “You’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, gripping his hands tighter, actually believing for the first time since Oscar had turned her world upside down, that maybe she was worthy of something better.  

After all, maybe her entire mission had been to make a better place for everyone to live, and that included herself.

He places a kiss on the crown of her head, before releasing one of her hands, letting the remaining one swing in between them as he leads them out of the room.

“You have a nice office,” she gleams.  “I really like that couch.  It must come in handy every once in a while.”

He chuckles, “I have a feeling it won’t be getting much use in the near future.”

It doesn’t make any sense! How did he beat himself up then? HOW??? The other guy was RIGHT THERE! I’m so confused.

My theory is it's a future version of him. Timey-wimey (DW ref). 

He just… stops. 

He freezes, he stops breathing, he keeps blinking fast and he gets a boner. 

‘Is that your hook in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?’, Emma asks him a couple of minutes later, when she gets next to him. She’s grinning proudly and he hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she entered the room.

Killian just narrows his eyes and raises his hand. The one that clearly has the hook attached to it. 

I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this.

She likes watching him do that. And he knows it.

He usually tries to ignore it, ignore the way her fingers move slower if he’s on the ladder. Ignore the way her eyes skip up every now and then, ignore her flush on her cheeks and the way she always crosses her legs when he’s up there.

Recently, though, he got cheeky. If he wants something from Felicity, and he knows she’s not going to like it… He asks Felicity while he’s up on the salmon ladder. 

It works for a few weeks. 

Then, Felicity starts doing yoga in the lair.

Next thing he knows, he’s ordering a new couch for the lair, while Felicity is still doing her yoga.

‘Did you just…’, he turns around to look at her, completely in disbelief.

'Yes.’, she nods seriously. 'If you’re using the salmon ladder, than I’m using the yoga mat.’

Oliver’s at a loss for words, but she keeps talking.

'I’m not saying you should stop using the salmon ladder, I’m just saying’, she shrugs, 'that you should stop using it to your advantage.’

'But-’

'If you continue doing so’, Felicity goes on, 'than I’ll continue doing so too’.

Oliver is silent for a few beats. ’This cannot end well.’

Felicity nods. ‘Yeah. I’m kinda hoping it’ll end in sex but eh.’

Oliver really doesn’t have an answer to that.