[h3] Anya [/h3] 

Anya giggled silently at the mental image of Dean just latching onto whoever was willing to make him food. It almost seemed like Dean needed a good maid, rather than a girlfriend. She stepped around to the ovens, opening them as Sam rummaged through the fridge. This was an industrial kitchen, something of dreams for anyone who liked to cook. It was something she could work with, at least, as long as she could remember everything she needed.

Luckily, Sam alerted her to the fact that Lexi and Dean had been grocery shopping. So, she could probably find everything she needed and she tapped on the counter, rather excitedly. But her mind went blank for a moment when Sam stepped back over to her, a little closer than she expected and his fingertips brushed her face, pushing the stray strand of curly hair behind her ear. The simple gesture caused her heart to skip a beat, and she had to hide a shudder with a soft smile, turning her eyes up to his.

This was a moment she wished she could speak more than anything, as the tension in the room instantly raised and she was once again tempted to just tilt up on her toes and kiss him. But he changed the subject and she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

With a nod, she broke eye contact and took the can of soda with a smile. She stepped away from him, walking over to the fridge to gather the supplies she needed for baking and luckily for Dean…meat. She slid all of the ingredients onto the butcher block counter, and pressed a few buttons to turn the oven on as she whipped around the room. 

After several minutes of mixing and making a mess, she wiped her hands and placed the last pie in the oven, closing the door and taking a deep breath. “Done…”, she thought before turning to walk back over to Sam. She pulled her phone from the counter on her way by, and typed out a simple message before setting it down and pressing play.

“We just need to wait about twenty minutes and I’ll have stolen your brother’s heart.” She teased in the message, smiling as she stepped in front of him. Standing there, she wrapped her hand around he elbow and awkwardly stood, tapping her toe for a moment as she tried to decide what to say to him. As was the case before, the kitchen fell into a bit of tension. She scanned over the features of Sam’s face, taking in his height over her, and the way he stood. His empathy wasn’t an act. Neither was his ability to calm someone when they were close to him. Unlike his brother, he didn’t feel the need to use bravado and wit to push his way through someone’s walls. He was…interesting and beautiful. 

She only realized she was zoned out staring at him after what could have been minutes, but she assumed was only seconds and she snapped herself out of it, reaching up to rake her hair out of her face. She picked up her phone and sighed, deciding to just break the ice on their tension.

“I’m having a very hard time being around you, right now. I feel the tension, and everything in my brain is telling me to touch you. You feel it too, right?”

She looked up at him briefly, and then typed another bit before pressing play on the whole thing, nervously tilting her eyes up to meet his.

“It’s just me and you, here.”

[h3] Dean [/h3] 

Dean smirked as Lexi told him he wasn’t being bossy, he was being careful. He did feel a bit bossy though. He was protecting her with aggression, his PTSD screaming through as he looked at her and saw just as formidable of a hunter as Mika, but also someone who was vulnerable, as long as he was connected to her. His better judgement wanted her to run as far away from him as she could. He also knew that he would never tell her that, out loud.

With a nod, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and glared through the windshield, “I’ll let you take the first swipe at him if he’s running us around. Let’s hope he’s dealt with hunters before and knows better. Somehow I doubt it.” 

Dean glanced down, seeing her hand drop to the seat. He stared at her hand for a moment, and chewed at his lip, fighting the urge to comfort her, even if she didn’t seem upset. He was long past the days of being soft with his partners…or women. That part of his soul had likely been crushed into oblivion over the years. He just couldn’t quite place ‘when’. He squeezed the steering wheel with his left hand, and reached down with his right, picking up her hand without warning.

“It’s just a milk run…” He muttered, more to himself than to her, as his mind ran over every single way this appointment could go wrong. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, ending his internal screaming against showing affection, when it was obvious they weren’t going to be able to stay away from each other…professional or not.