“Welcoming you home,” Dean replied, as if he shouldn’t have to explain himself after kissing his girlfriend. Still, he smiled at her as he brushed some of her curly hair back and away from her pretty face. “Plus, you know, the whole loving thing means sometimes I get this urge to kiss you. Unless you don’t want me to?”
He didn’t wait for a reply because it wasn’t going to occur to him that she might actually answer that question. It was supposed to be rhetorical because until today, Amelia hadn’t questioned him wanting to kiss her. He took her hand and led her through to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Dean let go of Amelia’s hand and went to the fridge. He got out a beer for him and a bottle of wine for Amelia. He poured some of the wine in a glass for her and handed it to her. He opened his beer and took a drink.
“How was work? Sam behaving himself?”
The tips of her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as Dean gently played with her hair, a gesture she loved from her significant others. It was a gesture that made her feel cherished and safe... But the problem was, Dean wasn’t her boyfriend.
What is going on here?
Yes, Dean was a handsome man. He was a good man, even if he drove her crazy every now and then. But she... (Wait. Did she have feelings?) They weren’t together.
Amelia followed Dean into the kitchen, her mind swirling with questions. Subconsciously, she tightened her grip on his hand, not wanting to let go, almost feeling frightened and Dean--even if there was something wrong with him, too--there was a comfort to her. However, he did let go, handing her a glass of wine; her favorite. Granted, she had drank around the hunter before, but she didn’t think her favorite wine would be something he remembered.
“Yes, Sam,” she began in response to his questions. She paused, watching him intently. Yet, he was completely casual with his tone, adding nothing more about his brother seemingly coming back from the dead. “Yes, Sam was wonderful,” she remarked, not sipping her wine yet. She silently took a deep breath, deciding on a question to try and determine if this was truly Dean or a shapeshifter, because, after all, they may look like anyone, but they wouldn’t have their memories.
“...Refresh my memory, what is it that you two called each other?” Amelia asked, forcing a grin. “You know, when you two are play fighting.”
