𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Katherine chews on her lower lip, watching Dean mill around their motel room in nothing but a pair of jeans. His hair is wet, sparkling with water that didn't get absorbed by his towel.

She quickly lowers her eyes to the newspaper so he doesn't catch her looking. The cloud of steam that rolled out of the bathroom drew her eyes up again, though.

She sniffs heavily. "Did you..." Katherine sniffs again. "Did you use my body wash?"

"Oh." Dean smiles a little stupidly. "Yeah, Sam and I are out."

"Did you use my loofah?"

Dean frowns. "No."

Five days since the police station, and there was a weird magneticism between them, but not in the way of pulling them together. Pushing them apart, static field between them, always on opposite sides of the room. Every brush of a limb was like electricity.

Katherine needed to go home. She needed to get laid. That's all this is. The aching in her belly, the wanton desire...it's all hormones. 

For christ's sake, a human being playing a game of pool shouldn't be attractive, but it was. She watched him lean down, all of his amulets dangling from his neck, fingers spread out against the green velvet of the table. Flexed bicep, the vascularity of it, the tight forearm. Images, thoughts she shouldn't have, burned through her mind like wildfire, and she stared at the pool table and thought about it all night long. 

It's not like being in a motel room with the two granted any kind of privacy. They knew every move of each other, heard every mutter under the breath, so it's not like she could go work something out in the bathroom.

So she's chewing her lip and digging her fingernails into her palm and trying to not look at him, but it's so fucking impossible.

It's especially sick that she's now watching him during hunts.

Get a grip.

He's dying—

You're a despiciable human being.

"Whatcha lookin at?" Dean asks, moving between their beds. He pulls a black t-shirt over his head, abdomen contracting. Her nostrils flare, and she looks away from him again.

"Weather," she squeaks. 

He frowns at her, hedgehog hair and all. "Weather?" He repeats. 

"Mhm." She rolls her lips into her mouth, unwilling to look away from the paper. He sits at the side of the bed with her, and she holds her breath. Like a feral fucking animal in heat, because that's what she is. 

Jesus.

Dean's green eyes move from her face to the drawn curtains. "It's raining...you don't need a newspaper for that."

"Um...no," she agrees. "But I'm looking at patterns."

Dean slowly blinks at her. "In...the newspaper."

"Mhm."

"Kit, they don't publish weather patterns in newspapers."

Dilated blue eyes turn onto Dean. Her chest rises and falls a little heavier, shallower breaths. Her nostrils are ever so slightly flared.

Dean blinks once and leans away from Katherine ever so slightly. "What...what are you looking for?"

"Patterns," she lamely replies, and turns her eyes back to the paper.

She wasn't expecting an overnight stop in Ohio to turn into anything, but...it did.

"How did you already find a case?" Sam asks. "We just got here last night."