The Oneshot Box.

Moves Like Jagger - Danger

Dean ducked under a pipeline, cursing loudly when he hit his head anyway. He'd returned from a pressing hunt just a few hours ago,and he was looking forward to seeing his girl.

He hoisted his duffel bag higher on his shoulder, making a mental note to drop it off in their room when he passed it.

Anticipation building, he turned a corner to where he knew she would definitely be - her music room. Dean chuckled to himself quietly. She was had an almost impossible love for music, his Stranger.

A few faint notes drifted towards his ears - a sign she was home. Of course she was, all she did was hunt, play, and read.

Dean reached the door, and his hand twisted the doorknob, opening the heavy oak slowly so that he would be able to sneak up on Stranger. But, he hadn't been prepared for the comical sight that greeted his eyes.

Stranger was waltzing by herself to an old vinyl record of La Vie En Rose, her steps light and graceful, her hands on the shoulders of some imaginary partner. The soft trumpets drifting out of the phonograph echoed around the room. The time lady swept around the room, humming softly to her recording, immersed In the music.

When the track was almost over, Dean snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She froze, her amber eyes widening in surprise and her cheeks heating up.

He chuckled, kissing her cheek. "Nice moves, Mick Jagger."

Stranger sank into his embrace, drinking him in. Her eyes were closed. After a moment, she scowled, and replied with, "Better than your Dad moves, Winchester."

"Dad moves? Sweetheart, I've got moves smoother than Michael Jackson." Dean winked.

She squeaked, and Dean chuckled, turning her around and capturing her lips with his.

As he inhaled her clean jasmine scent, there was only one thought running through his head: it was good to be back.