For all of the elapsed silence that had passed between them, Claire was positive that she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Either that, or she had somehow died and was currently floating around in her own personal heaven, because Dean Winchester was kissing her. She was so taken by surprise at first that it was even happening, she wasn't sure how to react, and so her entire body went rigid. But as she sat there, and felt his hand against her face, and her lips pressed up against hers desperately, it slowly sank in that this was very much real. He was actually kissing her, and he hadn't seemed drunk on anything but the plentiful emotions in the room, so he was actually kissing her. Was he only doing it to shut her up? No...she hadn't been talking that much. She attempted to argue with herself that he couldn't want to be kissing her, couldn't want this to actually be happening, but in the end she knew that she didn't care the reason. All that mattered was that she was getting to experience this moment at all.
She made a very delighted little sound in the back of her throat as she turned off her brain and just acted on instinct, and she pressed up into the kiss, bringing her own hand up to his face so just so she could touch him and have the contact she had been wanting for so long now. She was tentative at first, unsure of what she was doing, and it showed in her awkward attempts to kiss him as she thought he wanted to be kissed. As each second crept by, more and more of her own desperation leaked through, overshadowing the softness that she had been kissing him with at first.
She was so elated that this was even happening at all that she didn't think about her friends, her family, or the boyfriend that she did care very much for. There weren't alarms going off in the back of her head that this was wrong, because she simply wasn't thinking, only reacting. She could only see Dean, feel Dean, taste Dean. It was a sensory overload, but she didn't care, as this was as close to getting drunk as she was ever going to be able to get.
Her hand dropped from his face and briefly made contact with his shoulder, before her fingertips ghosted down his side. Finding the top of his thigh a relatively stable place to hold onto, her other hand used the bed for support, and she moved up to rise on her knees, making the angle less awkward for the both of them. She managed to do this without slipping, hitting her head against his, or crashing their teeth together. If she wasn't so absorbed in the moment, she'd congratulate herself on a job well done.
She loved him, she was sure of that, and she knew that he wouldn't ever let himself feel the same way. Not couldn't, because she knew Dean Winchester was perfectly capable of love. He just wouldn't, and she had come to terms with that, no matter how much it hurt her. But for once, she wasn't coming in second to another woman, she was first. And no matter how desperate her actions were, her heart was soaring and she felt like she really was the only one who he wanted to be there. It wasn't the truth, she knew, but she was a lovesick teenage girl, and she was perfectly content to let the way her body felt lie to her and muddle the truth.
yeah, this so isn't a two parter. ): I fail.
She made a very delighted little sound in the back of her throat as she turned off her brain and just acted on instinct, and she pressed up into the kiss, bringing her own hand up to his face so just so she could touch him and have the contact she had been wanting for so long now. She was tentative at first, unsure of what she was doing, and it showed in her awkward attempts to kiss him as she thought he wanted to be kissed. As each second crept by, more and more of her own desperation leaked through, overshadowing the softness that she had been kissing him with at first.
She was so elated that this was even happening at all that she didn't think about her friends, her family, or the boyfriend that she did care very much for. There weren't alarms going off in the back of her head that this was wrong, because she simply wasn't thinking, only reacting. She could only see Dean, feel Dean, taste Dean. It was a sensory overload, but she didn't care, as this was as close to getting drunk as she was ever going to be able to get.
Her hand dropped from his face and briefly made contact with his shoulder, before her fingertips ghosted down his side. Finding the top of his thigh a relatively stable place to hold onto, her other hand used the bed for support, and she moved up to rise on her knees, making the angle less awkward for the both of them. She managed to do this without slipping, hitting her head against his, or crashing their teeth together. If she wasn't so absorbed in the moment, she'd congratulate herself on a job well done.
She loved him, she was sure of that, and she knew that he wouldn't ever let himself feel the same way. Not couldn't, because she knew Dean Winchester was perfectly capable of love. He just wouldn't, and she had come to terms with that, no matter how much it hurt her. But for once, she wasn't coming in second to another woman, she was first. And no matter how desperate her actions were, her heart was soaring and she felt like she really was the only one who he wanted to be there. It wasn't the truth, she knew, but she was a lovesick teenage girl, and she was perfectly content to let the way her body felt lie to her and muddle the truth.