Witching Hour | Winchester

Twenty-Five

Roxanne steps out of the shower, towel-drying her hair. She realizes she forgot her bag, and she sighs. Her hands shake slightly as she wraps the towel around herself and fastens it. When she opens the bathroom door, she glances around the motel room.

Dean sits on the bed, staring at his phone. Sam's name is all he can even think about. As she steps out of the bathroom, he looks up. She gives him a quick smile, then walks over to dig through her bag. He finds his eyes drawn to her.

He studies the birthmark on her shoulder, the scars on her back. Her damp hair is curly, and he smiles. He loves when she wears her hair curly.

When she finds the right clothing, she stands up, turning to head back to the bathroom. But she catches Dean's eyes, and she freezes.

"What?"

Dean smirks. "Nothing."

She rolls her eyes. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"Is that an invitation?"

She stares at him for a moment, then bends her right leg, pulling the towel aside just enough to expose her tattoo.

"Do your worst."

Before she can react, Dean quickly snaps a picture of her on his phone.

"I was joking."

"Well, that was your mistake," he grins.

"Oh, bite me."

He gets to his feet, striding toward her with a wolfish smile.

"That another invitation?"

She looks up at him, her stomach flipping. She can't back down now. She refuses to give him the satisfaction. So she gives him her best sultry gaze.

"In your dreams."

"Always."

She shakes her head. "If Sam were here, he'd puke."

Dean chuckles. "I guess it's a good thing he's not here."

The two stand too close in the tense silence. Roxanne focuses on the way Dean's hair stands up in every direction and the way his eyes shine. Dean is distracted by a single drop of water trailing down one of her curls before spilling onto her skin and trailing down her chest.

"I need to get dressed."

He pouts. "No."

She pauses at the bathroom door, gripping her towel. She gives him a look, then steps into the bathroom. Her towel drops just as the door shuts, and he gets barely a glimpse of her bare back. He walks up to the closed door, knocking.

"You're the worst, Denning."

"Not like you'd know."

Dean rests his forehead against the door, smiling. "Then why don't you show me?"

The inside of the bathroom is silent, save for the sound of a zipper. He leans back away from the door. Roxanne slips on her boots, hesitating. She was doing her best not to overthink all of this. She and Dean were playful as always. It didn't mean anything, and it definitely didn't mean there was something between them.

The door swings open a moment later, and Roxanne stands there in her usual jeans and a tank top.

"We'll see."

She grabs a knife from her bag, flipping it and tucking it into her boot.

"So you wanna go talk to this professor?"

"Yeah. You coming?"

She frowns. "I think I'll sit this one out."

"What? Why?"