WHO: Buffy and Dean WHAT: Chillin and Maxin. WHERE: A beach WHEN: That day STATUS: Thread, closed, incomplete Ratings: currently low PG-13
Dean wasn’t the type of guy to lounge around on a beach. In fact, he wasn’t the type of guy to sit around doing nothing. It didn’t sit still - no pun intended - with him and often left him ridiculously antsy. Even when he wasn’t doing anything, his hands or his eyes or his mind, were always doing … well, something. The few times he managed to pass through a beach under the watchful eyes of John Winchester he had been doing something: Checking out the women. He’d been prowling, while working, the best way that Dean knew how. And as he grew older and began working more on his own he had never stayed long enough linger; always much too busy leaving as soon as he arrived with some girl or two. However, there he was, sitting in the sand on a beach that had been completely empty before his and Buffy’s arrival.
There was a restless energy moving and fidgeting deep underneath his skin that would make it difficult to say that he was relaxed, but he was something. He something that was closer to that then he had been for a long time since he left - no, was removed from - hell. Away from Kansas, away from the responsibilities, away from - Away from a lot of things Dean could ignore, he could escape. He had never thought himself that type of coward to run from his problems but Dean was better at ignoring things than he would like to admit, especially to himself. Not that any of that mattered now. At the moment it was him and Buffy, the sand, and the moonlight. It was nearly something out of the fantasies, out of the rare peaceful dreams, Dean tended to have every once in a while. A moment of normalcy and love. The fact that was a reality was at times a little too much to believe.
Not that it would remain absolutely perfect for long, he thought as he watched Buffy walk out of the ocean with a grin both purposefully lascivious and accidentally a bit dopey. One of the things he loved about - yes loved - the woman walking toward him and also frustrated him about her (which made him love her all the more) was that she never let him ignore things as much as he would like. Whether it was Sam or with a bottle or Ben or Ruby or a number of other people or issues that made his head spin. She met him head on when she needed to or just sat next to when he didn’t even know he needed it.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” He asked with a wiggle of his brows. He liked it when she rolled her eyes at him and - God, he needed to get a hobby. "Have a good swim?"