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Dean Winchester (hellsboy) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Dean watched her laughing at him amidst his muddy flailing. Oh she was so going to get it. He played it up a little though. Flopping when his foot found enough grip to stand. Not grabbing for the grass that would have stopped his sloshing enough to also help him stand up. He'd be the clown for a minute or two to keep her laughing. And him. They both needed it, didn't they?

He couldn't help but burst out laughing all over again when she realized just how exposed she appeared to be in what she was wearing. "Like I said," he answered when she quickly covered herself. "You can't go blaming me for your inability not to look uh cute," he said, picking his word carefully, "while soaking wet in nothing but scrubs." He lifted a brow and a smile spread across his face in spite of the expression of stern disapproval he'd been trying to hold onto for a moment longer.

When she did her little mud dance, Dean watched with amusement until he realized she was going to come crashing down on top of him. Then he put up his hands defensively. It wasn't like she could help it but he knew that wasn't going to feel good. Especially if she managed an elbow to the jewels. But he wasn't fast enough and she landed with a wet thwap! squoosh of mud on his stomach. He gasped and spluttered as the wind was partially knocked out of him. "Talk about not being coordinated! That hurt!" he protested but couldn't help but laugh again, this time somewhat hoarsely.

Was she - was she tickling him? Not good. Oh so not good! "Oh no. No, you don't. No!" he hollered then between laughs as she poked at his side. He squirmed in the mud, trying to grab her hands. Trying to poke her back in the hopes that she was ticklish too. "Not," he laughed, tried to take a breath and finish, "fair! Hey!"