#winternatural

"You're right," Lainey agreed immediately, affecting a serious voice. "We're going snowboarding. Big difference. It's better. I promise."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You think you're real cute, huh?"

Lainey beamed back at him. "Adorable, actually. It's how I usually get you to say yes to my so-called crazy ideas, and it's worked pretty well for me for… hmmm, let's think, most of our lives."

"She's got you there, man," Sam laughed. "Remember when you guys were, what, nineteen, and —"

"Yeah, well, it's not working this time," Dean cut him off, all the while giving Lainey a pointed look. "We're coming off back-to-back hunts, Laine. Between the Hook Man in Ankeny and the freaking ghoul we just took care of in Frisco, I think we've earned a little R&R."

Sam shook his head while Lainey's eyes lit up. "That was a mistake," he whistled, managing to pull Dean's attention.

"The hell do you mean 'that was a mistake?'" Dean started to ask, but Lainey was already providing the answer before he even finished the question.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed as if Sam hadn't spoken. "We just agreed we're going to take the next couple of days off. And we're in freaking ski country, Dean. It's the perfect way to relax."

Across the table, she could see the way he winced when it dawned on him what Sam had meant, but her smile didn't falter, even as Dean turned his attention back.

Their eyes met, and a whole conversation seemed to take place without a word actually being uttered. Things were still… new between them, still tentative. It had only been a month since they'd started trying to work things out, and while they'd fallen back into a lot of patterns and rhythms without having to try too hard — after all, they'd had a hell of a lot of history that even five years apart couldn't totally erase — they were still relearning each other and testing boundaries.

Once upon a time, this had been all too common — not the snowboarding specifically, but Lainey, pushing Dean towards things that went against his natural instincts.

"Since when do you even ski?" he started to ask, then immediately held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry — snowboard. Our entire lives, you never met a sport you didn't hate."

"That's not true," she protested, although he was absolutely right. At least when it came to team sports. "I always liked ice skating."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That doesn't count."

"She watched all my soccer games," Sam tried to help, but Dean snorted, a smirk forming on his face while Lainey felt her face flush slightly.

"Yeah, she couldn't follow 'em worth a damn, though. What did you use to call the goal, Laine? The big net thingy? And I can't tell you how many times I had to explain penalties and red cards to her."

"I like to run," she said instead of answering, earning a real laugh from Dean.

"No, you don't. You can run. Out of necessity. Big difference. Sam likes to run."

Lainey started to argue in her defense, but then the waitress was back, passing out their drinks — sodas for Dean and Sam and a water for her — disrupting the conversation in the process. When she left, Dean looked back at Lainey, sobering up and raising his eyebrows.

"Seriously," he pressed, "what's the deal with your sudden interest in winter sports? I didn't think you knew what a ski was."

Heat threatened to rise higher in her cheeks, but Lainey did her best to stay steady and gave a shrug she hoped came off as dismissive. Dean wasn't going to like the answer, but they'd promised to be honest with each other, even when it was uncomfortable or hard. The twisted part of her wondered if it might work to her benefit in this case.

"Will used to take me," she admitted with a forced casualness, her voice brighter than she actually felt. "He… he had a place he liked to go over long weekends and stuff."

She waited with bated breath for Dean's reaction and caught the way Sam was also eyeing his brother somewhat nervously — her ex-boyfriend, the one she'd been seeing up until she'd taken a sabbatical to hit the road with the Winchesters, had been a touchy subject from the moment Dean had crashed back into her and Sam's lives, never failing to send Dean into some sort of tirade or make a biting comment that usually escalated into an argument. Predictably, Dean's grip on his glass tightened, and his jaw twitched, though Lainey could tell he was trying to contain his reaction.

"Oh yeah?" he started to ask, a familiar edge creeping into his voice. "Did Professor Stick-Up-His-Ass have a boat, too? I'll bet —" but he cut himself off, seeming to realize he was spiraling, and Lainey watched as he took a deep breath. His eyes dropped to the tabletop as he exhaled, slowly, and then finally found her face again. "Sorry."

Lainey knew how much that simple word cost him, and she sent back an understanding smile, knocking his foot with hers under the table. "It's okay."

Dean nodded, more to himself than anything, and seemed to studiously ignore the stunned look he was getting from Sam. She watched him glance towards the window, playing with the wrapper from his straw between his fingers, and Lainey had to work not to be distracted, remembering what they'd felt like mapping her body earlier that morning. Finally, he turned his head back to her, his face free of the irritation that had sparked to life at the mention of Will.

"We don't have any gear," he pointed out, and the implication that he was willing to do what she was asking wasn't lost on Lainey.

"So we'll rent some," she smiled. "Didn't you just score a fake credit card the other week? Or I still have some cash from those dumbasses we hustled back in Ankeny."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her suggestion of the credit card — Lainey wasn't usually a proponent of that particular revenue stream, and he knew it, so for her to suggest it meant she wasn't just messing around.

"I think you two should go," Sam spoke up in the silence that followed.

"What, you don't wanna come?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow in his brother's direction. Sam was quick to shake his head.

"No. I could use a break from third wheeling."

"Oh, Sam, you know we —" Lainey started immediately, but Sam didn't let her finish.

"I don't mean it that way. Just… you two should take some time, do something just you guys, you know?"

She and Dean shared a look across the table before Dean focused back on Sam.

"You sure, dude? It's just me and Lainey. Besides, I'm sure Lainey will need someone to laugh herself stupid with while she watches me fall my way down the damn mountain."

There was an almost hopeful note in Dean's voice, as if there was something Sam could say that would somehow make the whole thing more palatable, or, if Lainey had to guess, that if Sam went, he could at least comfort himself with not being the only one who didn't know what he was doing. Sam shook his head, though, reaching for his own drink.

"Positive. Go spend time with your girlfriend. I can amuse myself. Although you definitely gotta take pictures for me, Laine. Bonus points if you get him in one of those ridiculous hats with all the spiky things coming off of it."

Lainey laughed while Dean's face soured, and Sam sipped on his soda. "I'll see what I can do," she promised before turning back to Dean. "So, we doing this?"

She could tell that he wanted to say no, but she could also tell he wanted to make her happy, and that he was determined to beat the challenge of the precedent set by Will, even though it was a challenge that truly only existed in his head. Will had never so much as held a candle to Dean… hadn't even been on the same playing field and never could have hoped to be.

If it were something else, something like asking him to get on a plane or if he had a legitimate fear of bodily injury, she'd have let him off the hook and put him out of his misery. But this was something she knew Dean well enough to know he could do it, and that his biggest hang-ups were his general aversion to new or 'normal' things. It was an aversion she regularly enjoyed challenging.

So she smiled back while they had a mini-staring contest, waiting him out until Dean predictably let out a huff and looked away, signaling his defeat. That was when she grabbed her own drink, ripping the wrapping off her straw while making a minimum amount of effort not to look too satisfied. Sam, of course, was also trying to suppress a grin.

She'd just wrapped her lips around the straw when Dean's eyes snapped back to her, a finger pointing in her direction. Lainey blinked back without remorse, waiting for whatever was about to come while she continued sucking down her water.

"You owe me one. And I swear, Laine, if we get stuck on one of those goddamn chairs, I'm out."

She arched an eyebrow, setting her glass back down on the table and swallowing. "Chairs?"

His eyes narrowed. "Whatever you call 'em. Those fucking death traps on rope that take you up to the top of the mountain."

It wasn't really funny — she knew Dean wasn't the biggest fan of heights — but she couldn't totally hold back her snort at the irritation laced through his voice, and the lifts weren't usually that high up.

"The ski lifts," she informed him, "and they're not death traps, they're perfectly safe. Especially relative to the things we normally do."

Dean didn't look convinced and made no effort to hide his skepticism as he settled back into his seat.

"At least monsters I can shoot," he muttered. "There's no fixing one of those lines snapping."

Sam opened his mouth — probably to give him shit in that brotherly way they were both so good at — but Lainey caught his eye and quickly shook her head, relieved when Sam seemed to head the silent warning.

She felt a twinge of actual sympathy now and caught Dean's foot under the table again. It drew his attention just the way she knew it would, and when their eyes locked, she gave him a reassuring smile.

"The line's not gonna snap, babe, I promise. And I'll be there the whole time. We'll have fun. Just trust me."

Lainey could practically hear the sarcastic retort flashing through Dean's mind, years of knowing him and his facial expression speaking just as loudly as if he'd actually given voice to the thoughts he was having. He took another steadying breath, though, his grip tightening as he focused on her, understanding passing between them. Then finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"We'll see," was all he said, and Lainey spent the rest of lunch trying not to look too smug.

Just like Dean and Sam, Lainey had been to just about every one of the contiguous states of the country. Once she'd even been to Mexico, on a hunting trip her dad had taken when she'd been so little, she could hardly remember more than the beach and the days she'd spent confused when her dad had left her and Kyle to be looked after by a woman who had only spoken broken English at best and had seemed to enjoy spice the way Lainey enjoyed sugar.

She'd always considered it one of the few perks of the life, the fact that she was, at least in some regards, well-traveled. Even if her traveling often involved risking her life rather than vacationing the way other people — or, alternatively, normal people — did. But Lainey had never been normal. No one in her family had been.

The Rocky Mountains in the late winter/early spring had always been one of her favorite places. Mountain towns in general always held a certain amount of charm, but there was something to be said for still being able to see snow-covered peaks while the days were getting warmer and the sun started shining longer.

It was true that, love of the mountains aside, prior to dating Will, she'd never tried strapping a snowboard, or a pair of skis for that matter, to her feet to make her way down the slopes — Dean had been absolutely right about that. But she'd always enjoyed the snow, and she had fond memories of being on a snowmobile, riding down the mountainside with her dad before she'd hit double digits, and she'd thought it was something that would be cool to try. Especially like this, where it was still cold enough to hit the trails, but warm enough that she didn't want to die when she breathed in the frigid air and her breath didn't condense in the air to something visible every time she opened her damn mouth.

The day started out well enough. Despite his obvious reluctance, Dean got up without complaint and took her to breakfast after they knocked on Sam's door and checked one last time that he didn't want to join. The gear rental had taken a little bit longer than expected, especially since they'd both needed everything, and they'd ended up having to scrounge around a clearance rack at a surplus store to find stuff like snow pants and jackets that wouldn't soak through the second one of them fell into the powder.

But luck had been on their side. They'd found what they were looking for, in the right sizes and without any of it looking obnoxious, no less, even if it wasn't the best quality. The weather had been as good as anyone could have asked for, with clear skies, the sun beating down, and temperatures mild enough that she knew they'd end up feeling warm once they were out there moving for an hour or so, even though the air still stung when they were still. Crowds weren't even bad, and, because it was so late in the season, the lift passes were discounted.

By the time they got in line to head to the top of the mountain, Dean even seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing easily with her, the tension having eased from his shoulders, and engaging in the usual teasing that came naturally to them after all these years, softened these days with light touches and quick kisses. He stiffened just enough for her to notice when they got close enough that getting onto the lift became imminent and real, quieting down probably without realizing he had as he watched people ahead of them manage the necessary movement, clearly trying to memorize what he'd need to do.

Lainey kept her mouth shut about that, quietly slipping her hand into his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

It was all too good to be true, and she should have known it would come crashing down eventually.

Since she hadn't been to this particular mountain before, she wasn't totally sure how far out they were when it happened, but they were far enough up that the station they'd gotten on at was no longer visible, and the one they were heading towards hadn't yet come into view. They had just passed one of the posts, though, and were traveling through a bunch of trees.

Without any warning, the lift suddenly ground to a halt, a loud noise echoing out behind them as the gears slowed, and their chair swung on the line thanks to the momentum it still had. Dean's eyes widened immediately, his hands grabbing onto the lap bar instinctively while he looked around frantically.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked reflexively. Lainey winced, guilt and sympathy bubbling up just as quickly as his anxiety had. It was just the two of them on the chair, at least, and she noticed they were lucky enough that the one ahead of them was even empty. The chair, of course, kept swinging — not badly, but just enough to keep amping Dean up. "What happened? What's going on? Why the fuck are we stopping?"

Lainey reached out a gloved hand to touch his arm, knowing the physical contact usually helped ground him — in all fairness, it had always been that way for both of them with each other — and shifted just a bit to be able to look at him easier.

"It's okay," she soothed as he turned to look at her, panic etched into every one of his features. "This happens sometimes, doesn't mean anything's wrong."

She almost pointed out that someone had probably just tripped trying to disembark, but thought better of it at the last second. There was no need to give him ideas.

And although she usually had a calming effect on him, even her charm didn't seem to be doing much today, and Dean let out a low sort of growl that was a mix of frustration and fear.

"Doesn't mean it's not either," he shot back, looking around again. She could tell he was already starting to spiral. "I swear to god, Lainey, if we end up stuck on this thing — I told you this was a bad idea."

"Hey!" she called out, raising her voice just a fraction, letting it come out more urgently to pull his attention. It worked, and when his eyes swiveled back, she softened again, squeezing his arm where her hand still rested. "It's gonna be fine," she continued evenly. "This happens sometimes; it's normal. We're not gonna be stuck, and it wasn't a bad idea. Trust me."

Except it became quickly apparent that it wasn't one of the normal quick little pauses Lainey was used to, and that whatever had happened wasn't normal. The first sign was when one minute ticked by, then five, and then ten, without any signs of the lift starting to move again. And as the minutes ticked by, Lainey could practically feel Dean's anxiety ratcheting up, his grumbling increasing right alongside it.

When the ski patrol came by, using a megaphone to shout up to them that there was some sort of malfunction, and they had a mechanic coming out to get everything running again, but to hang tight, they were safe where they were, Lainey knew they had a real problem. Dean's eyes bugged, and the look he leveled in her direction was almost accusatory.

"Still gonna tell me this is 'normal', Laine?" he asked, his voice the same mix of panic masked with irritation it took on whenever Dean had been confronted with the prospect of flying.

It would have been easy to snap back at him, but even when they'd been at their worst with each other, there was something about being able to sense genuine anxiety from Dean that kept her from rising to meet him. There was some sort of instinct to try to soothe that had been there as long as she could remember. They needled each other, sure, enjoyed driving each other up a wall, but more important than any of that, they'd always taken care of each other.

So Lainey pulled off her left glove and reached her hand up to his face.

"Hey," she soothed. Dean leaned into the touch, finally locking eyes with hers, but the look she received was expectant, still irritated, and she kept her own features sympathetic.

"What?"

"We're gonna be fine," she promised. "C'mon, we face down worse than a stuck ski lift every day of our lives. All we gotta do is sit here."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "just sit here… a hundred fucking feet off the ground about to plummet to our deaths."

Lainey had to fight not to let her own affectionate amusement show on her face, and smoothed her thumb over his cheekbone, pulling him closer.

"We're not even fifty feet off the ground, Winchester," she corrected, unable to hold back a smirk. "Pull it together."

He stayed close but stared back reproachfully. "Yeah? I'm remembering this the next time you scream because there's a roach or a spider in the bathroom."

Lainey rolled her eyes but didn't give in to the exasperation, instead tilting her head to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Don't be an ass," she murmured against him. "Besides, baby, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

She smiled then, sincerely and teasingly at the same time, and pushed past her own discomfort as she caught his eye and let her own glow purple for just a moment — a silent reminder that, as much as she liked to pretend she wasn't what she was, that she was normal, when push came to shove, there were some things she was willing to use her magic for, and protecting Dean had always been on the short list.

Dean, somehow, had never shared her discomfort with her abilities — even if her anxiety tried to convince her otherwise at times — and she watched his shoulders ease marginally at the reminder as he exhaled, his features twisting into an expression of tenderness she didn't often see.

"Yeah," he muttered, almost more to himself than her. "Yeah, okay… that… that's true."

They were still close, so close that she felt a heat spreading through her body from the inside out despite the cold air prickling at the skin of her bare hand, and that she could feel every breath Dean was taking — each one slow and deeper than usual. She gave a small nod, best she could while still leaving their foreheads bent together.

"Mmhmm," she hummed.

It was the kind of heat that Dean's proximity had never failed to stir, but had been coming on with an intensity she hadn't felt since they'd been teenagers, finding their way together for the first time.

Considering where they were, she should have ignored it; she knew that. But not having to pretend she didn't feel it, being allowed to touch him and be close like this again, was still new, still felt like a goddamn dream sometimes, and it was hard not to take every opportunity she could to exploit the newfound lack of barriers between them. She had five years of want and need pent up that the last month had hardly managed to take the edge off of.

Lainey figured that, in her defense, it seemed to be the same for Dean, and, at least in this case, giving in could be useful. Distraction was always a great tactic when Dean was anxious about something.

Happy with her own reasoning, ideas quickly forming in her mind, Lainey tilted her head and captured her lips with his again. She didn't hold back this time, letting her tongue dart out to run along the seam of his mouth, asking but really demanding entrance. Dean clearly hadn't been expecting it and was slower to respond than usual, a small noise of surprise coming out muffled against the kiss. But then he was reciprocating, his tongue rolling against hers and his arm coming up around her shoulders to pull her closer. When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavier, and he looked back at her in bewilderment.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" he asked as her bare hand moved from his jawline to trail down the front of his jacket. Lainey gave him a mischievous smile, searching for his zipper.

"Taking your mind off things," she told him innocently. "Making the most of a bad situation… taking care of my guy."

Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Lainey just slipped her hand into the pocket in the front of his jacket. He'd been complaining at the store about how there was a hole in the lining, hadn't wanted to get it, but they hadn't been able to find anything else in his size. Lainey searched for it now, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as her fingers found the edge of the slit.

As unhappy as he'd been an hour or so ago about the hole, she suspected he'd be grateful for it now.

She leaned in and kissed him again while she worked her hand inside. The opening wasn't particularly large, and she had to work to stretch it larger. It was a delicate balance, trying not to cause too much damage but still create the hole she needed for what she was planning. The fact that she had to do it one-handed and that her fingers were already getting clumsy from the cold didn't help matters.

Soon enough, though, she succeeded and had created an opening just big enough to slip her whole hand through.

The way the jacket had been trapping his body heat inside provided immediate relief to her skin, and she tangled it in the hoodie he had on underneath, deciding to let it warm up before she went any further. Dean had finally been kissing her enthusiastically, but did break away at the change, arching his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Lainey —" he started, a hint of warning in his voice. He knew her too well, was probably already starting to piece together where her head had gone.

"Dean," she cut him off in the same tone. He met her stare, and for a moment, neither of them moved, locked in a quiet battle of wills. He looked torn between telling her how insane she was and giving in to the desire she could already see building in his eyes. She just smiled back.

"We're fifty feet up in the air —" he said, clearly ready to tell her all the reasons she shouldn't. As if she'd ever cared about should.

"Exactly, with nothing better to do —"

"It's cold —"

"Don't worry, I'll keep you warm —"

"And literally anyone could see us; we have zero cover."

At his last protest, Lainey made a point of looking around that drew an exasperated yet fond sigh from Dean.

"Who exactly are you worried about?" she asked, then leaned in again. "Besides, even if someone walked by, like you said, we're fifty feet up in the air. They won't be able to see anything."

She kissed him again, licking teasingly into his mouth while finally dipping her hand lower. The jacket was long, and she was glad to realize it gave more than enough cover for what she wanted. Even through the layers, she could feel his body already responding to what she was offering. His attire was definitely going to be a challenge, the extra layer of the snow pants over his jeans being cumbersome, but she was up for it.

"Come on, Winchester," she managed to get out without actually pulling away, moving her lips against his as she spoke, "where's your sense of adventure?"

Something sparked behind his eyes in response to the challenge, and it only made her grin spread wider.

"Oh, is that how it's gonna be, Hollings?"

"That's how it always is," she corrected. "And you know you missed it."

She hoped he'd missed it, missed their dynamic. Dean, as if able to read the vulnerability beneath her confident front — which, he probably was — softened a bit and kissed her. Not long but slow and deep, reassuring in its own way.

"Yeah," he finally murmured when they came up for air, still staying in her space, his voice low and quiet. "I really did, Laine. Missed everything about you… about us."

The air around them suddenly felt heavier, and something Lainey didn't want to think too hard about twisted in her chest. Her own sense of need for him flared, but she did push that aside, knowing that as much as she wanted to distract Dean, their options were limited up here.

"Me too," she whispered. And then, because that was about all the emotion she could handle, she flashed him that wicked smile again. "So just relax." Her hand started working at loosening the snow pants, "And let me remind you how good I am at taking your mind off things."

"You're a fucking menace," he muttered. Lainey pointedly palmed at the growing bulge in his pants.

"You don't exactly seem to mind."

He let out a low sort of growl, but then she was kissing him again, and he seemed too busy kissing her back to put up any more of an argument.

By the time she finally managed to get his jeans open, both their breathing was labored, and he hissed when her hand slipped inside his boxers and wrapped around him.

"Fuck, Lainey."

"What?" she asked coyly, taking the chance to trail her lips along his jawline, working higher and higher. It was easy to find that sensitive spot just below his ear, and she made sure to give him a stroke when she finally reached it. The hiss of pleasure he let out had satisfaction swelling in her chest. "Not doing anything wrong." Her thumb brushed over the head as she twisted her wrist, and Dean made another noise. "Besides, this is, like, nothing."

Despite his obvious and growing arousal, Dean seemed to be amused and managed a snort. "Nothing?"

"Mmmhmm," she hummed, more preoccupied in that second with sucking gently at the sensitive skin of his neck. But then she continued moving higher. "Nothing. Consider it a preview… for what we can get up to once we're out of here."

Dean groaned, and Lainey gave him another stroke. "That's not funny. When we get off this fucking thing, we'll still be on a mountain, miles away from our room."

"Please," she scoffed. "As if I'm not resourceful enough to figure something out when I want. Remember that truck stop back in Tucson? I'll bet there's a lodge nearby we can find."

His dick gave an excited twitch in her hand that would have confirmed he remembered exactly what she was talking about if the answering noise that sounded from his throat hadn't already done the job. Lainey smiled against him, letting her tongue poke out for another teasing lick. He still seemed to be warring with himself, but when she pulled the lobe of his ear between her lips a moment later, she knew she'd won.

"Yeah?" he breathed. "And what exactly was it you had in mind, Hollings?"

Lainey grinned, even as she bit down, too happy with the permission to continue to try to hide it, and proceeded to answer the question in vivid detail.

She worked him over slowly, teasingly almost, not focused on getting him off but rather on dragging it out… making him lose himself in the moment with her to drown out everything else. It took a combination of words and action, but it did the job. The way his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing continued to become more labored… the way the sounds were spilling from his lips started small and restrained, but became increasingly unguarded all spelled it out.

"God, baby, just like that."

His voice was rough, which only made the heat pool faster in her own gut. She loved seeing him like this, loved hearing him like this — in their long history, there'd been so many stretches where all they had were phone calls because of the distance, and her body had practically been trained to respond to the arousal in his voice as a result. Her own state was becoming more difficult to disregard. The fact that he was hot and hard in her hand only added fuel to the fire, and she found herself very much wishing they were still back in their motel room instead of stuck on a ski lift.

The unconventional setting, at least, did provide a certain heightened sense of excitement.

"I missed this," she admitted, leaning in close enough that she knew her breath would be hot against his skin. Dean shuddered; she felt him pulse in her hand.

"We just did this last night," he pointed out, voice still strained, "not that I'm — oh fuck — not that I'm… complaining."

Lainey bit her bottom lip and shook her head before continuing the trail of open-mouthed kisses she'd been trailing under his jaw.

"No," she corrected as she went, not caring that her words were somewhat muffled from the way she was pressed against him. "I missed this… missed the way you let me take you apart wherever I want —"

"I don't let you," he cut her off, though there was no heat in it — at least not the angry kind. "You just do it, there's a difference."

"Thought you weren't complaining," she teased, twisting her wrist on the upstroke and drawing out another sinful noise.

"No," he grunted, "definitely not."

Lainey could tell his anxiety from before had been replaced by an entirely different type of tension, and she found herself shifting, looking for friction she wasn't going to be able to get the way that they were. The weight of the snowboard still strapped to her own foot and the sting of the cold air against her exposed skin kept her grounded in reality, even as her own want continued to surge, constantly reminding her of their limitations.

That was always the drawback to teasing Dean — she had yet to pull it off without also teasing herself.

He turned his head, and their lips met in a kiss that felt like they were trying to devour each other. His hand fisted into her hair, pulling her against him roughly, while her free hand clutched at the back of his neck. The gloves both of them were still wearing made it hard, uncomfortable even, but not enough to truly be distracting. Definitely not enough to deter them.

Her thumb swiped over the precum beading at his tip, spreading it, while his tongue continued to explore her mouth, demanding, claiming, taking what little breath she had. She gave as good as she got, the whole thing feeling like more of a fight than a dance, and by the time they were forced to break apart for air, both their lips were swollen, and their chests were heaving.

"Want you," she mumbled against him, still working him over. Dean moaned. "Wish I could get my mouth on you."

"Yeah?" His hips bucked into her hand — as much as they could, anyway, in the confined space, and Lainey noticed the way his one hand had a death grip on the lap bar.

"Yeah," she breathed, tightening her grip and feeling a sense of satisfaction when he sucked in a sharp breath. "Love having you in my mouth… love the sounds you make, the way you taste… the weight of you on my tongue… the way you lose control right before you come."

Dean let out a low, strained sound, his head tipping back against the chair, and Lainey's eyes followed the way his throat moved as he swallowed hard. Almost as if conjured by the suggestion, she could tell his control was starting to slip now — could feel it in the way his body was starting to tense, the way the rhythm of his breathing was becoming uneven, the way his grip on the bar was flexing.

"Jesus, Lainey — I'm —"

"You getting close, baby?" she asked, keeping her voice soft but low. Then, because she just couldn't resist, she deliberately slowed the motion of her hand, keeping him right on the edge rather than pushing him over, dragging her thumb over his head in a way that had his hips jerking again.

"Yeah," he hissed, his eyes fluttering shut. "Yeah, don't — don't sto—"

The lift suddenly jolted back into motion — hard — and the unexpected lurch shot through them both, the line above them groaning as the motor kicked back into gear. Lainey's hand stilled automatically, while her right one shot across her body to brace against the lap bar instinctively while the world shifted around them. Dean's eyes flew open.

For a second, he just stared, like his brain hadn't caught up — and in all fairness, hers hadn't quite either — but then as the lift continued to roll forward, reality set in, and his head dropped forward, a strangled, disbelieving sound falling from his lips.

"Son of a bitch!"

Lainey let out a breathless laugh, equal parts disbelief and real humor at the absurdity of the situation, despite her own lingering arousal, and she let her forehead drop against his shoulder. Dean dragged a hand down his face as she released the hold she had on his dick, then looked down at her — flushed, wrecked, and very clearly left hanging. She smiled back up at him impishly.

"And here I thought you'd be happy not to be stuck on the chair lift anymore," she teased.

Dean huffed and pinched her side, making her yelp with laughter — she'd always been ticklish.

"That's fucking hilarious, 'Laine," he said as she sat back up, letting him reach under his jacket to fix his clothes while she pulled her discarded glove back on.

"A laugh riot," she deadpanned, her voice brighter than his, and it earned her a look.

There was a beat in which neither of them moved; they just looked at each other. But then Dean was shaking his head.

"Like I said, menace," he grumbled without any real anger. Lainey smiled. "It's gonna take forever to get back to the damn room."

"Yeah, well, being a menace has its perks." When his eyebrows shot up in a silent question, Lainey let out another peel of breathless laughter. "What? You think we're actually waiting until we get back to the room? What did I say earlier?"

Dean huffed out his own laugh, his hand sliding to her thigh and giving it a squeeze that sent a jolt through her body.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed. "You're lucky I love you, you know."

He'd said it as a joke, Lainey knew that, but something warm flared in her chest anyway, something that had nothing to do with the other kind of heat that had been consuming her seconds before, and Lainey leaned into him, looping both her arms through his and squeezing tight as she let her head drop to his shoulder. Because, yeah, he was right. She was lucky as hell.

They both were.

"Love you too, Dean," she murmured. "Always."

And as the lift carried them the rest of the way up, Lainey stayed tucked against him, letting herself enjoy the moment and knowing that they wouldn't be making it far once their feet hit ground again.

Maybe snowboarding had been overrated anyway.

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