Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-04-23 11:41 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-04-23 11:41 pm
Dean/Cassie - That Damned Smirk
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: That Damned Smirk
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15pairings Prompt: 1. once upon a time
spn_het_love Challenge: Beginnings
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: Her reporter's intuition told her that he wasn't telling her the whole story, and she suddenly became determined to get it out of him before she even knew his name.
Author's Note: I don't know where this came from. But I like it, so I'm not complaining. This was also written in my absolutely horrific handwriting during my theater class, and had a lot of crossouts and words that I couldn't read, so this isn't exactly the original piece. If you ever want to try and decifer that--let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural. They're owned by the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't use them without my permission.
Dean Winchester had a voice that could make toes curl. He also had a smile that could get even the most uptight, skeptical woman to melt into her shoes, and a disarming kind of charm to boot. Not because you didn’t expect him to have it—men like Dean Winchester had it practically oozing out their ears—but for his age, you didn’t expect it to be as flawless as it was. Like he had been doing it since he was old enough to know how. And once upon a time, he used that charm on Cassie Robinson. Well, he had used it on a slightly too inebriated sorority sister before that to get himself into the party, but after that he used it on Cassie. And it probably worked about ten times better than he thought it would considering that A) she wasn’t drunk, and B) he wasn’t either—not yet anyway.
Cassie knew he definitely wasn’t from Ohio State. She knew he was the right age to be, but there was something definitely un-college about him. He talked just like one, but he wasn’t clean cut enough to be a frat boy. He had denied that he was one, but the more she talked to him, the more she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t even clean cut enough to be a student. He was too rough around the edges. There was too much of a weight behind his eyes—like he had seen things that would make her hair curl more than it already did, and his entire appearance just lacked the polish that a student should have. Her reporter’s intuition told her that he wasn’t telling her the whole story, and she suddenly became determined to get it out of him before she even heard his name.
So instead of blowing him off like she usually would, she started to flirt back, asking him questions that she knew were slightly probing, but tried covering it with enough gushing about him that he wouldn’t notice. As thick as she was laying it on, most men would have been eating out of the palm of her hand. But not this guy. This guy knew a con when he saw one, and he dodged each question with a smirk and a glib answer which only drew her in even more. She was more than determined to get this guy to crack. And when she told him so, more in a playful whine about out she didn’t like guys who played the mystery card, and all he did was give her another damned smirk as he threw back another shot:
“Sweetheart, I don’t talk for free.”
She thought he meant sex. He just wanted someone to pay for dinner. She wound up doing both. And now, thinking back on their relationship as a whole, she wound up paying for dinner a lot.
At the diner, they resumed their flirty banter while Dean dug into the burger and fries she had bought for him. In fact, his name was all she managed to get out of him before he started devouring the food in front of him, and it was his first name only. He ate like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, but from the way he was handling his alcohol earlier, it probably wasn’t the case. Once he had settled into his food a bit, he started talking to her again, but he was still dodging questions just as he had been when they were at the party. But this time he was teasing her with it; she could see it in his eyes. He was deliberately avoiding her questions just to get a reaction out of her. And get a reaction he did. She tolerated about fifteen minutes of it before she reached across the table, and yanked the food away from him.
“What the hell?”
“Answer the question or I eat it all myself,” she sighed, picking up a fry and biting into it.
“Like hell you are,” he said, reaching for the basket, only to find have her slap his hand away.
“Hey—that’s my food!” he pouted. The man actually pouted.
“I paid for it,” she said, popping the rest of the fry into her mouth, “So technically its my food.”
She got about halfway through the rest of the food, and he finally caved, agreeing that he would tell her whatever she wanted to know. And for the most part he did. Not everything, as she found out later—but then again, what the “family business” was, she never really asked. What she did ask, he did answer, and she found out that no, he wasn’t an Ohio State student, and he wasn’t even a college student. He was just passing through the campus looking for some fun. When she asked him if he had found it the smirk was back as he popped a fry into his mouth and said:
“Well—you bought me dinner, didn’t you?”
Cassie had never been the kind of girl who blushed, but there was something about that look on his face that made her cheeks burn. He relished watching her squirm for a minute, before asking her if she wanted to see his car. He had a really nice car. A very—spacious—backseat.
Suddenly “just passing through” turned into “staying for a while” and slowly they graduated from the backseat of the Impala to her dorm room. Her roommate was ready to murder her for the number of times she got kicked out of the room so that Cassie and Dean could spend some “quality time” together, or came back from the shower in nothing but a bathrobe to find Dean reclining on Cassie’s bed, waiting for her to come back from wherever she was. Eventually she got so fed up with that scenario, having to collect a change of clothes so that she could change in the bathroom when it was her room, damnit, that she would kick him out of the room—which would in turn get him kicked out of the building. Sometimes in the rain—sometimes in the really bad rain, but frankly, she didn’t really care. She wasn’t the one sleeping with him. Therefore, she didn’t really care about Dean’s well being, no matter how much he tried to charm her.
Dean turned into more than this guy with an easy charm she met at a party, and became this living, breathing, three dimensional person, and whoever that three dimensional person was, whether it was really Dean, or some kind of image that he wanted her to see, she didn’t know. She didn’t know if it was the same Dean who showed up in front of her dorm at two in the morning, covered in dirt and grime, occasionally bleeding, but she wanted it to be. This situations were the ones she never asked about, because she knew she would only get some gloss over about the “family business” and that would be that. She never asked, never pushed, and she regrets that.
Because once upon a time, she fell in love with the Dean Winchester that he created for her, and when he finally told her what she never pressed to know, she realized that he wasn’t that guy. She realized that in the end, she probably had known that all along. And that deep down, she probably believed him when he told her, not years later when her father died in a way she couldn’t explain. And in the end, she still loved him anyway, despite the fact that at the time—she thought he was a raving lunatic.
Title: That Damned Smirk
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson
15pairings Prompt: 1. once upon a timespn_het_love Challenge: BeginningsContent Warning: N/A
Summary: Her reporter's intuition told her that he wasn't telling her the whole story, and she suddenly became determined to get it out of him before she even knew his name.
Author's Note: I don't know where this came from. But I like it, so I'm not complaining. This was also written in my absolutely horrific handwriting during my theater class, and had a lot of crossouts and words that I couldn't read, so this isn't exactly the original piece. If you ever want to try and decifer that--let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural. They're owned by the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't use them without my permission.
Dean Winchester had a voice that could make toes curl. He also had a smile that could get even the most uptight, skeptical woman to melt into her shoes, and a disarming kind of charm to boot. Not because you didn’t expect him to have it—men like Dean Winchester had it practically oozing out their ears—but for his age, you didn’t expect it to be as flawless as it was. Like he had been doing it since he was old enough to know how. And once upon a time, he used that charm on Cassie Robinson. Well, he had used it on a slightly too inebriated sorority sister before that to get himself into the party, but after that he used it on Cassie. And it probably worked about ten times better than he thought it would considering that A) she wasn’t drunk, and B) he wasn’t either—not yet anyway.
Cassie knew he definitely wasn’t from Ohio State. She knew he was the right age to be, but there was something definitely un-college about him. He talked just like one, but he wasn’t clean cut enough to be a frat boy. He had denied that he was one, but the more she talked to him, the more she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t even clean cut enough to be a student. He was too rough around the edges. There was too much of a weight behind his eyes—like he had seen things that would make her hair curl more than it already did, and his entire appearance just lacked the polish that a student should have. Her reporter’s intuition told her that he wasn’t telling her the whole story, and she suddenly became determined to get it out of him before she even heard his name.
So instead of blowing him off like she usually would, she started to flirt back, asking him questions that she knew were slightly probing, but tried covering it with enough gushing about him that he wouldn’t notice. As thick as she was laying it on, most men would have been eating out of the palm of her hand. But not this guy. This guy knew a con when he saw one, and he dodged each question with a smirk and a glib answer which only drew her in even more. She was more than determined to get this guy to crack. And when she told him so, more in a playful whine about out she didn’t like guys who played the mystery card, and all he did was give her another damned smirk as he threw back another shot:
“Sweetheart, I don’t talk for free.”
She thought he meant sex. He just wanted someone to pay for dinner. She wound up doing both. And now, thinking back on their relationship as a whole, she wound up paying for dinner a lot.
At the diner, they resumed their flirty banter while Dean dug into the burger and fries she had bought for him. In fact, his name was all she managed to get out of him before he started devouring the food in front of him, and it was his first name only. He ate like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, but from the way he was handling his alcohol earlier, it probably wasn’t the case. Once he had settled into his food a bit, he started talking to her again, but he was still dodging questions just as he had been when they were at the party. But this time he was teasing her with it; she could see it in his eyes. He was deliberately avoiding her questions just to get a reaction out of her. And get a reaction he did. She tolerated about fifteen minutes of it before she reached across the table, and yanked the food away from him.
“What the hell?”
“Answer the question or I eat it all myself,” she sighed, picking up a fry and biting into it.
“Like hell you are,” he said, reaching for the basket, only to find have her slap his hand away.
“Hey—that’s my food!” he pouted. The man actually pouted.
“I paid for it,” she said, popping the rest of the fry into her mouth, “So technically its my food.”
She got about halfway through the rest of the food, and he finally caved, agreeing that he would tell her whatever she wanted to know. And for the most part he did. Not everything, as she found out later—but then again, what the “family business” was, she never really asked. What she did ask, he did answer, and she found out that no, he wasn’t an Ohio State student, and he wasn’t even a college student. He was just passing through the campus looking for some fun. When she asked him if he had found it the smirk was back as he popped a fry into his mouth and said:
“Well—you bought me dinner, didn’t you?”
Cassie had never been the kind of girl who blushed, but there was something about that look on his face that made her cheeks burn. He relished watching her squirm for a minute, before asking her if she wanted to see his car. He had a really nice car. A very—spacious—backseat.
Suddenly “just passing through” turned into “staying for a while” and slowly they graduated from the backseat of the Impala to her dorm room. Her roommate was ready to murder her for the number of times she got kicked out of the room so that Cassie and Dean could spend some “quality time” together, or came back from the shower in nothing but a bathrobe to find Dean reclining on Cassie’s bed, waiting for her to come back from wherever she was. Eventually she got so fed up with that scenario, having to collect a change of clothes so that she could change in the bathroom when it was her room, damnit, that she would kick him out of the room—which would in turn get him kicked out of the building. Sometimes in the rain—sometimes in the really bad rain, but frankly, she didn’t really care. She wasn’t the one sleeping with him. Therefore, she didn’t really care about Dean’s well being, no matter how much he tried to charm her.
Dean turned into more than this guy with an easy charm she met at a party, and became this living, breathing, three dimensional person, and whoever that three dimensional person was, whether it was really Dean, or some kind of image that he wanted her to see, she didn’t know. She didn’t know if it was the same Dean who showed up in front of her dorm at two in the morning, covered in dirt and grime, occasionally bleeding, but she wanted it to be. This situations were the ones she never asked about, because she knew she would only get some gloss over about the “family business” and that would be that. She never asked, never pushed, and she regrets that.
Because once upon a time, she fell in love with the Dean Winchester that he created for her, and when he finally told her what she never pressed to know, she realized that he wasn’t that guy. She realized that in the end, she probably had known that all along. And that deep down, she probably believed him when he told her, not years later when her father died in a way she couldn’t explain. And in the end, she still loved him anyway, despite the fact that at the time—she thought he was a raving lunatic.
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I'm glad you liked it.
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Seems very much like Dean and very much like Cassie.
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She thought he meant sex. He just wanted someone to pay for dinner.
I really liked that line. ;D
I loved the little glimpse of how Dean and Cassie meet, and how she eventually falls in love with him despite not knowing whether or not she's loving the real Dean. This was a wonderful read. :)
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Dean has such a great variety of expressions. ;D
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Not I. :D I'm glad you liked it.
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looks good
Re: looks good
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