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rockstarpeach at 08:58pm on 17/10/2014 under character: charlie, character: dean winchester, fic - spn
rockstarpeach at 08:58pm on 17/10/2014 under character: charlie, character: dean winchester, fic - spnTitle: Kiss Me and Smile for Me
Characters/Pairing: Dean and Charlie
Rating: G
Summary: Pre-series AU. Eleven year old Dean finally makes a real friend, but it's time to move on. Again. He doesn't want to say goodbye to Charlie, though. Not ever, and at least not before he gets his first kiss.
Word count: 1200
***
“Moving sucks,” Dean complains, frowning at his handful of cards. Not that Dean would admit that, not to anybody else. Especially not his dad. He usually just says 'yes, sir,' packs a bag for himself and Sammy and gets in the car. He's used to it by now and while he'd rather just stay in one place for a while, he's got his dad and he's got his brother and it's never bothered him all that much. Then again, he's never made a friend like Charlie, before.
He scrunches his nose and moves his cards around so they're in something resembling an order, then looks down to the cards laid out on the grass between him and Charlie. He sighs and throws one from his hand down at random, rolling his eyes when Charlie smiles and squeals, playing six cards of her own and moving Dean's life counter down by down five points.
He sighs again and folds his hand.
“But not as much as this game. You sure you don't want to go down to the river and look for dead bodies? Or maybe make out?” he tacks on, with an ill-developed flirty grin. He's eleven, give him a break.
Charlie pulls a face like something smells bad (something does, incidentally – Sammy got a bit microwave-happy with some tin foil earlier) and shakes her head.
“Gross,” she says and Dean figures she's probably talking more about the making out than the dead bodies. Too bad. Dean likes Charlie. Not that he doesn't like other girls, just. She's cool. And he's moving in two days (stupid Dad's work) and he's never even kissed a girl.
“Whatever,” Dean grumbles, picking up his hand again. “How long does this game last, anyway?”
“Hey!” Charlie snaps, looking at Dean sharply. “Magic: The Gathering is a privilege, Winchester!”
“Well how long does my privilege last, then? I think Wrath of Khan is on cable...”
Charlie narrows her eyes and says, “Finish this game with me. Don't complain. And then I'll watch Star Trek with you.”
Dean's head tilts as he considers her offer. Nobody else is going to watch Star Trek with him, so he's not too quick to turn it down, but this game. It's like torture.
“And I'll let you kiss me,” Charlie adds, when it's clear that Dean is undecided. Dean's face lights up and his frown turns to a mockery of a leer as he leans closer, but Charlie puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back. “After,” she says. “And one kiss. No tongues.”
Dean sits back and lets himself sulk for half a second before he's smiling again.
“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Hey, what does this 'Black Lotus' card do?”
“Damn it!”
***
Wrath of Khan is half over by the time they get inside. Dad's still out – God knows where – and Sam's in his room glued to his Gameboy. Dean's turned the lights down and he's popped some popcorn and he's poured them both a glass of grape juice and Charlie is lounging on the couch next to him, occasionally tossing kernels into the air and catching them in her mouth. Once in a while she'll throw one at Dean. He never misses.
He's looking at her more than the crappy TV, inching closer, then away again. She's pretty, she is. Dean likes her and he likes girls in general now, but he can't help thinking this might be a little easier with somebody - anybody - else.
He cares about Charlie, cares what she thinks of him and what if he's bad at it? What if he does it too hard or what if he has bad breath or what if he goes for some tongue anyway and ends up slobbering all over her chin? Dean doesn't have this kind of anxiety when he thinks about doing it with Jessica Leroy, from the junior high school next door.
What the hell is wrong with him?
It's about half an hour later, after Kirk shoots the Reliant out of the sky, when Charlie finally turns to him, heaves out a frustrated breath and says, “well? Are you gonna kiss me, or just pussyfoot around it all damn day?”
Dean blinks, momentarily stunned by the outburst. He's not used to being put on the spot, not about things like this. Hell, he's not used to things like this at all, but he quickly shakes it off and smiles. It's better now, he thinks. It's only been one afternoon, only a few tries (and he'll practice more later, when Charlie's gone home for the night) but he's pretty sure he's actually flirting, by this point. His smile feels good, confident.
“Never make a lady ask twice, that's my motto,” Dean tells her. At least, it is now.
He leans in. Charlie doesn't, but that's okay. Dean's the guy, he can do most of the work.
Dean closes his eyes, Charlie does too and when their lips meet, it's... nice. It's nice and then it's awkward when they just stay there, frozen. Neither of them moves, mouths pressed together, bodies stiff with Dean's hand clamped around Charlie's shoulder and her hands pressed flat to the couch at her sides.
It's awkward until Sam comes into the living room, a good thirty seconds later.
“Gross!” he says. “Jeeze, Dean. I'm telling dad!”
Dean and Charlie break apart, laughing a little nervously as they retreat to their separate spaces.
“Whatever, loser,” Dean says, over his shoulder to where Sam's getting a soda from the fridge. “You want to watch with us? We got popcorn.”
“Star Trek?” Sam asks, scrunching up his nose.
Dean and Charlie pointedly ignore the dig and Sam joins them anyway.
***
Four hours later and well into The Voyage Home (turns out there was a marathon) and Sam's asleep on the second couch. The popcorn is gone and so is the grape juice and the space between Dean and Charlie has completely disappeared. She's curled up under his arm, leaning against his side while he twirls her hair around his fingers and holds her close.
Fuck, he's going to miss her. She's the best friend he's ever had.
“It's late,” Dean says.
“Mmmm,” Charlie agrees.
Dean doesn't let go and Charlie only snuggles in closer.
“I don't think my Dad's coming home.”
“Mmmm.”
“You could... stay if you want? I don't mean... No making out, or anything, just....”
“You're warm,” Charlie fills in and Dean smiles against the top of her head.
Dean pulls the throw blanket from the side of the couch and drapes it over Charlie and they're both quiet.
When the credits to The Final Frontier start to roll they're both mostly asleep. Dean thinks about turning the television off, but he doesn't want to let go, wants this night to keep going for as long as it possibly can. He doesn't to leave town, this time.
“Hey Dean?” Charlie mumbles sleepily, as Dean shifts to get a little more comfortable. Charlie falls in beside him, so they're lying side by side. He's happy to stay just like this for as long as he can, doesn't want to fall asleep so they don't have to say goodnight, say goodbye. Seems like Charlie is, too.
“Mmm?”
“You're right, moving sucks.”
END
Characters/Pairing: Dean and Charlie
Rating: G
Summary: Pre-series AU. Eleven year old Dean finally makes a real friend, but it's time to move on. Again. He doesn't want to say goodbye to Charlie, though. Not ever, and at least not before he gets his first kiss.
Word count: 1200
***
“Moving sucks,” Dean complains, frowning at his handful of cards. Not that Dean would admit that, not to anybody else. Especially not his dad. He usually just says 'yes, sir,' packs a bag for himself and Sammy and gets in the car. He's used to it by now and while he'd rather just stay in one place for a while, he's got his dad and he's got his brother and it's never bothered him all that much. Then again, he's never made a friend like Charlie, before.
He scrunches his nose and moves his cards around so they're in something resembling an order, then looks down to the cards laid out on the grass between him and Charlie. He sighs and throws one from his hand down at random, rolling his eyes when Charlie smiles and squeals, playing six cards of her own and moving Dean's life counter down by down five points.
He sighs again and folds his hand.
“But not as much as this game. You sure you don't want to go down to the river and look for dead bodies? Or maybe make out?” he tacks on, with an ill-developed flirty grin. He's eleven, give him a break.
Charlie pulls a face like something smells bad (something does, incidentally – Sammy got a bit microwave-happy with some tin foil earlier) and shakes her head.
“Gross,” she says and Dean figures she's probably talking more about the making out than the dead bodies. Too bad. Dean likes Charlie. Not that he doesn't like other girls, just. She's cool. And he's moving in two days (stupid Dad's work) and he's never even kissed a girl.
“Whatever,” Dean grumbles, picking up his hand again. “How long does this game last, anyway?”
“Hey!” Charlie snaps, looking at Dean sharply. “Magic: The Gathering is a privilege, Winchester!”
“Well how long does my privilege last, then? I think Wrath of Khan is on cable...”
Charlie narrows her eyes and says, “Finish this game with me. Don't complain. And then I'll watch Star Trek with you.”
Dean's head tilts as he considers her offer. Nobody else is going to watch Star Trek with him, so he's not too quick to turn it down, but this game. It's like torture.
“And I'll let you kiss me,” Charlie adds, when it's clear that Dean is undecided. Dean's face lights up and his frown turns to a mockery of a leer as he leans closer, but Charlie puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back. “After,” she says. “And one kiss. No tongues.”
Dean sits back and lets himself sulk for half a second before he's smiling again.
“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Hey, what does this 'Black Lotus' card do?”
“Damn it!”
***
Wrath of Khan is half over by the time they get inside. Dad's still out – God knows where – and Sam's in his room glued to his Gameboy. Dean's turned the lights down and he's popped some popcorn and he's poured them both a glass of grape juice and Charlie is lounging on the couch next to him, occasionally tossing kernels into the air and catching them in her mouth. Once in a while she'll throw one at Dean. He never misses.
He's looking at her more than the crappy TV, inching closer, then away again. She's pretty, she is. Dean likes her and he likes girls in general now, but he can't help thinking this might be a little easier with somebody - anybody - else.
He cares about Charlie, cares what she thinks of him and what if he's bad at it? What if he does it too hard or what if he has bad breath or what if he goes for some tongue anyway and ends up slobbering all over her chin? Dean doesn't have this kind of anxiety when he thinks about doing it with Jessica Leroy, from the junior high school next door.
What the hell is wrong with him?
It's about half an hour later, after Kirk shoots the Reliant out of the sky, when Charlie finally turns to him, heaves out a frustrated breath and says, “well? Are you gonna kiss me, or just pussyfoot around it all damn day?”
Dean blinks, momentarily stunned by the outburst. He's not used to being put on the spot, not about things like this. Hell, he's not used to things like this at all, but he quickly shakes it off and smiles. It's better now, he thinks. It's only been one afternoon, only a few tries (and he'll practice more later, when Charlie's gone home for the night) but he's pretty sure he's actually flirting, by this point. His smile feels good, confident.
“Never make a lady ask twice, that's my motto,” Dean tells her. At least, it is now.
He leans in. Charlie doesn't, but that's okay. Dean's the guy, he can do most of the work.
Dean closes his eyes, Charlie does too and when their lips meet, it's... nice. It's nice and then it's awkward when they just stay there, frozen. Neither of them moves, mouths pressed together, bodies stiff with Dean's hand clamped around Charlie's shoulder and her hands pressed flat to the couch at her sides.
It's awkward until Sam comes into the living room, a good thirty seconds later.
“Gross!” he says. “Jeeze, Dean. I'm telling dad!”
Dean and Charlie break apart, laughing a little nervously as they retreat to their separate spaces.
“Whatever, loser,” Dean says, over his shoulder to where Sam's getting a soda from the fridge. “You want to watch with us? We got popcorn.”
“Star Trek?” Sam asks, scrunching up his nose.
Dean and Charlie pointedly ignore the dig and Sam joins them anyway.
***
Four hours later and well into The Voyage Home (turns out there was a marathon) and Sam's asleep on the second couch. The popcorn is gone and so is the grape juice and the space between Dean and Charlie has completely disappeared. She's curled up under his arm, leaning against his side while he twirls her hair around his fingers and holds her close.
Fuck, he's going to miss her. She's the best friend he's ever had.
“It's late,” Dean says.
“Mmmm,” Charlie agrees.
Dean doesn't let go and Charlie only snuggles in closer.
“I don't think my Dad's coming home.”
“Mmmm.”
“You could... stay if you want? I don't mean... No making out, or anything, just....”
“You're warm,” Charlie fills in and Dean smiles against the top of her head.
Dean pulls the throw blanket from the side of the couch and drapes it over Charlie and they're both quiet.
When the credits to The Final Frontier start to roll they're both mostly asleep. Dean thinks about turning the television off, but he doesn't want to let go, wants this night to keep going for as long as it possibly can. He doesn't to leave town, this time.
“Hey Dean?” Charlie mumbles sleepily, as Dean shifts to get a little more comfortable. Charlie falls in beside him, so they're lying side by side. He's happy to stay just like this for as long as he can, doesn't want to fall asleep so they don't have to say goodnight, say goodbye. Seems like Charlie is, too.
“Mmm?”
“You're right, moving sucks.”
END
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