Andrea Sanders, legendary hunter, is the kind of legend that only the brave and stupid dare to whisper about at night. After ditching the foster system at sixteen, she follows her father's footsteps into the only life she's ever known: hunting down...
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"Happy New Year!" I clanked beer bottles with my favorite people, surprise lingering in my heart at how I actually had people in my life that cared about me.
Well, save for one.
Dean was avoiding my eye contact, something he had been doing since the day after Christmas. I wasn't sure if he was regretting what had happened, or if he just wasn't that into me. Either way, I was letting it fly for now. I'd tried talking to him a few times, but he would simply find an excuse and run. We had enough to worry about with the apocalypse looming over our heads, so I was trying not to worry about it too much. Kissing Bobby on the cheek, I watched him blush before pushing me away with a couple incoherent grumbles that made me laugh.
"I'm grabbing another beer and some more snacks. Anyone else need anything?" I called, walking backwards with my glass raised, waiting for any takers.
Sam put his empty bottle down. "Grab me one while you're up." I sent him a wink, pointing my own bottle at him in confirmation before spinning around and walking back to the kitchen.
Rifling through the fridge, I heard footsteps behind me. "Andy?" My lip found its way between my teeth at his voice. While grabbing two bottles of beer and slowly turning around, I met Dean Winchester's gaze with a single raised eyebrow.
"What do you want, Dean?" Placing the top of my bottle on the counter, I hit it just right so that the lid popped off. I did this again with Sam's before placing them on the island and turning to face him.
Slowly, cautiously, he made his way toward me with a strange look in his eye: something almost animal. "I wanted to wish you a happy New Year." Now he was in front of me, my back pressed into the counter. "And apologize."
"For what?" I challenged, knowing a couple things he should apologize for.
He smirked before taking a step toward me and, without warning, pulling me to him. The man kissed me with twice the passion he had on Christmas. I swear, if this was how we celebrate holidays, I was a-okay with it. Gripping the front of his shirt, I kept him close to me, pulling away only for a second to breathe before bringing him back to me.
As we came to a slow stop, he seemed to be trying to make it last before resting his head once more against mine. The ever present sparks warmed my whole body as my toes curled. His arms rested against the counter on either side of my hips, eyes closed as we just breathed each other in.
I could smell the gunpowder on him mixing with his cologne. It was intoxicating to say the least. "That," I swallowed, breath fanning his face as I looked into his eyes, "was neither of the things you said you wanted to do."
