Dean
Later that night, Dean was sitting on the sofa in his living room, (he has a living room!) thinking about what Sam had said when they had dropped their Mom off. Anna walked in, wearing only his shirt and a pair of panties, and handed him a beer.
"My favorite." He watched as she settled next to him, her back against the arm of the sofa and her legs stretching across his lap. She was so comfortable with him, and he watched as she did all the little rituals he'd noticed before, but this time, they included him. She tucked her hair back, always parted to the left, by running her fingers through the top layer of hair, and hugged a pillow over her belly, but not a square pillow, only a round one, and propped her legs up; only instead of on a chair or over the arm of the couch, they were propped over his lap. She nudged him over so she could lean into him and the spot just between the cushions at the same time, and every movement she made was both so familiar, but also completely alien.
"I guess you know me pretty well." Anna laughed at him, and nodded almost sadly. Her acting wasn't as good as it used to be. Or maybe she was faking as a joke. Dean decided it must be a joke, rather than her usual dry humor.
"I'm afraid so." She searched his face.
"Are you all right?" He frowned.
"Sammy and I... We don't get along." She shrugged.
"I just think he hasn't let go of the shit you pulled the last couple years. It got rough there for a while."
"You two don't get along anymore either." Another shrug.
"I don't think he's really forgiven me for forgiving you. He doesn't understand."
"Hmm." She leaned forward and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
"For the record, he doesn't know what he's missing, keeping you out of his life."
"I can fix things with Sam. I can make it up to him. To everyone." He looked at her. "To you." She leaned back and fixed him with a piercing stare. This, on the other hand, was completely familiar, Anna frequently giving him the same look to extract information from him.
"All right, spill it Winchester. What's gotten into you lately?" He leaned toward her.
"This isn't gonna make a lick of sense to you. But I kind of feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don't wanna waste it." She laughed, and Dean was entranced. Anna really was beautiful. He carefully took in her appearance, a soft smooth body unmarked by monsters or the things that go bump. Whole. Even if she was a bit different, it's better this way. She's safer. Happier.
"You're right, that doesn't make any sense..." He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. They kissed for a heated moment, then he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, just enjoying the moment. Anna before may have been a stranger, a friendly, good, trustworthy stranger, but still even after almost two years, she was still a stranger. Here, on the other hand, she was something else. She was his. And he could tell that he was every bit hers as she was his.
Dean found that he liked that idea the more he thought about it. She gave him a slow smile that set his blood on fire.
"Whatever's gotten into you, I like it." Their lips met again, and Dean put down his beer to put his hands on her, desperate to feel any part of her. She groaned and pulled away, dropping her head back. He took the opportunity to press his lips to her neck.
"Oh, don't do this to me now. I've got to pack tonight." She pushed him away gently and stood, walking back to their bedroom.
"You've got to pack now?" he asked, following her. She looked back at him before she entered the bedroom.
"I told you, I'm back on duty this month." He followed her into the bedroom.
"You work for the, uh..." He saw her pull out several marine dress uniforms from the closet. Just like his old man had been once upon a time.
"Military. You're a marine. I'm dating a marine. That's so... Patriotic." She chuckled and started to pack. Dean watched her, feeling possessiveness take hold in his heart.
'Mine.' He thought taking a sip of beer.
Life was finally good.