A/N: I've been looking for a fanfiction like this but never found anything so took the matter into my own hands. It's a different from my usual writing style, enjoy!
Dean was scrolling through the endless submitted questions in his inbox on his ask.fm, none of them particularly inspiring or exciting, nothing that would be of anyone's interest until one caught his eye:
How many times have you kissed Jack?
The question sent one second visual memories through Dean's mind, making him smile a little. He hesitated a moment before typing out his answer:
At least 7 times.
The first one was an accident, really. It shouldn't have happened. Dean had been questioning his feelings for his best friend at the time, jumping around from one answer to another, not being able to settle down on one. He ignored the usual sick feeling in his stomach that could only be described as jealously as he watched Jack across the room who had a beer in one hand and the other placed a girl's waist as they talked together, both completely oblivious to Dean's stare that was full of hurt.
Dean downed the rest of what was left of his drink, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat and prayed it wasn't making a physical appearance on his neck like it felt like it was. The blonde that Jack was attached to set herself free and whispered in Jack's ear, what the words were, Dean could live without knowing.
Jack, who looked like he just won a big prize, turned and looked up, seeing Dean. Dean quickly looked down, even though he knew that he had been caught red handed staring and that was no point in trying to hide it. Jack crossed the room in a number of steps, now looking concerned for Dean that didn't look his cheery self.
"Dean? What's the matter?" Jack asked, the blonde he had been talking to a mere few seconds ago already forgotten. No one in this room was more important than Dean Dobbs - his partner in crime and best friend.
"Nothing," he answered, not making eye contact. He wasn't particularly lying, he didn't know what was wrong with him, he was perfectly fine ten minutes ago. He stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight, still avoiding the green eyes that were watching him carefully.
"Let’s go somewhere," Jack suggested, pulling on Dean's wrist. He was little upset that he wouldn't tell him what was wrong, but it was his duty to find out what it was that was bothering him. Alcohol made their vision hazy and thoughts to jumble, and maybe that's why it happened. Or maybe they were looking for an excuse to cover up what they did.
When they got outside they were alone, no passing cars or other drunken teenagers were there to witness the two. There was hardly anything romantic about the moment - instead of moonlight there were street lamps and muffled pop music instead of tweeting birds.
Jack couldn't help but feel responsible for Dean's sudden downer, but then again, Dean hadn't been himself lately. He seemed confused about something, and it was showing in his actions and attitude towards Jack. One day he'd want to spend every waking moment together, the next he would ignore texts and cancel plans. And yet there was something different in the way Dean looked at him recently. It was almost a look of longing and need, but Jack never pondered over it for long, coming to the conclusion that he was just over-thinking everything.
Maybe it was something in the way that Dean looked so innocent after a small conversation outside that made Jack edge nearer to Dean, the height difference obvious as Dean looked up at the taller one in awe. Maybe it was something in the alcohol that made Dean feel more confident in risking everything as he took a step closer to Jack, making them barely two inches away. Maybe it was something in the alcohol that made Jack more curious and willing to try as he guessed what Dean wanted and took advantage of the situation, closing the gap and pressing their lips together.
