lovefromthehero:

          [ they’re playing each other like string instruments, and even if dean doesn’t remember all the notes, he’s still managing to make the song sound okay. when she turns her back, his expression softens until the swing of her hips calls him back. ]

                    Yeah, yeah, comin’, Harvelle.

          [ he pushes himself off the bar and follows her. he knows this kitchen like the back of his hand— all those times he cooked dinner for her and ellen in the past year as a thank you for giving them a roof over their heads when they needed it, a reprieve from the life. let them pretend that they have roots outside their car. ]

          [ every time he sat on that wooden chair outside while the moon hung high and let his father’s words echo through his skull, wondering when the right time to tell sam would be. if there will ever be a right time. ]

          [ he swings into the kitchen after her and saunters over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending over to peer inside and wait for jo’s command. ]

                    C’mon, Jo. Talk to me.

          [ his stomach can’t wait. ]

❝— sandwiches, dork. it’s not
rocket science. just— uh, cut up
some tomato, and lettuce. you
know where the knives are.❞

she teases him coolly, splitting
some six-inches with a bread
knife. and… she’ll survey the
goods, while he’s got his back
turned. she’s only human after
all, and he’s got a lot to offer.

not to mention,  he makes a
damn good burger. next time,
permitting there is a next time,
he’s cooking.

❝ and hand me a beer
while you’re there?❞