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Your heels clicked across the tile of the chapel as you made your way to the priests office. Approaching the heavy door, you rapped your knuckles against the wood and awaited answer. Through the door, you hear someone’s muffled voice and a strange shuffling sound.
“Occupado,” shouts the voice.
A voice you recognize.
In blind faith you call out, tone more offended than you planned, “Dean??”
The shuffling and mumbled voices on the other side of the door stop. The door creaks open hesitantly and the familiar face of Sam Winchester appears.
Sam says your name quizzically, “what are you doing here?”
“Probably the same thing you’re doing here,” you reply with a hint of sarcasm.
“Doubt it,” rings a voice from behind Sam.
Sam backs up and opens the door to reveal Dean on the floor, crouched over the priest’s body. His face is mangled and it’s clear from how his shirt has shifted that the boys were dragging him across the floor towards the open window.
“Please tell me he was a shifter and not some innocent bystander,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation.
“He was, we wouldn’t kill some random guy,” Sam immediately jumps to their defense.
Dean rolls his eyes and continues tugging the body towards the window.
Before you can continue, you’re splashed with something. You start to protest when you see its holy water.
“I swear I’m my usual self,” you groan.
“And now we believe you,” smiles Dean.
“So what’s the plan now, you know they’re going to notice their priest is missing, right,” you gesture loosely at the body.
“Replacement priests,” Sam replies, oddly sure of himself, “we’re going to tell everyone we’re taking over for father Bennet until he’s back from council with the Pope or something while we weed out the other shifters.”
You sigh, “alright, well I’m already here so you might as well let me help.”
Dean huffs, “fine, but don’t get in our way.”
“I never do,” you say melodically as you stride to sit on the edge of his desk.
Swinging your legs playfully, you look at Sam, “alright what’s the plan?”
——
You had been in a town outside Kansas City when you caught wind of something going down in Kentucky. People going missing and turning up gutted and desecrated, all seemingly centered around a small church congregation.
You arrived and quickly started to stake out things, acting like a passerby just wanting to continue attending church while on a trip.
At this point you had narrowed it down to about fifteen possible congregation members that could be part of the horde. You just needed to shrink your suspect list a bit, which is why you had gone to talk to the priest.
—————
After running into Dean and Sam, things started moving faster in the investigation. Their usual chaos didn’t match your typical quiet sneaking way of investigating. You had discovered that the priest was the ring leader, the boys informed you of this after you helped them get the body into their car to properly dispose of him, and he had a following of approximately 12 other shifters under his lead. You compared notes on suspects and believed you’d narrowed it down to the 12. The only issue, you couldn’t just wipe out 12 random people with just the 3 of you. You discovered that the shifters weren’t going to their homes at night and were, instead, all nesting together somewhere. So while you tried to figure out ways to get the 12 on their own, Sam and Dean played priest. You continued pretending to be a visitor and prospective member of the church, trying to get info from other attendees and helping build trust in the replacement leaders.
As the investigation went on, you became aware of a tension between you and Dean. There had always been a something between you, but you’d never paid it much attention. Dean was a player at best and you figured he just saw someone who was walking and talking that he could sleep with and that was that. This time though, something seemed different. The tension heavier, the stares lingering longer, the snide comments he made to everyone seemed less harsh when it came to you. It was confusing to say the least.
—-----------------
Sam believed you were close to wrapping up this case, you were hot on the tails of the horde and were slowly taking out individuals as the opportunities arose. At this point you’re down to 5 remaining members. As Dean wrapped up his sermon for the day and people started to filter out, a man raised his hand.
“Um, excuse me, Father,” this man wasn’t a part of the shifters, just a shop owner from town.
Dean turned towards him, cocking an eyebrow in question.
The man continued with the silent permission, “I know you’re new, and only here temporarily, of course, but usually today we’d have a period of confession. Just where we can confess as needed for an hour or so,” this man was timid, clearly uncertain of the new priest.
“Oh, yes, uh we can do that,” he gave the man an awkward smile.
With that, Dean did his best to take confession as you pretended to leave the chapel, before circling back and meeting Sam in the priest's old office to continue planning.
You were planning to head to, what you thought was, the nesting place in two days when the congregation would be distracted by an event at the church.
Once everyone was finished with confession, Dean trudged back into the office.
“Some of those people have some really messed up secrets,” Dean chuckles lightly.
“Yeah? Like what,” you ask, absentmindedly running your tongue over your bottom lip as you decide to take a break from marking potential nesting spots on maps.
Dean's eyes fall to your lips, a soft flush creeping across his cheeks. You notice this, but choose to ignore the bubbling excitement in your gut. You won’t admit it to yourself, but having someone as attractive as Dean Winchester distracted by your lips is a little thrilling.
“Uh, well one guy is having an affair with one of his students,” he drags his hand down his face, looking away from you, “but then his wife came in and she’s screwing their neighbor.”
You chuckle softly, going back to your map as he continues talking.
“Some guy in town is in love with his best friend and struggling with ‘temptation’ apparently. This one girl that’s gotta be like, 16 maybe, has been stealing spices from a shop in town and selling what she steals and pretending it’s drugs. Just random junk that I don’t care much about,” he takes a seat in a chair in front of the desk, with you sitting on the desk facing him, and Sam sat behind the desk working on his own stuff.
“I mean, it’s a small town, what else do they have to do,” Sam replied, not looking up from his book.
“Yeah, I’d probably be doing crazy things if I lived here,” you gesture with your right hand, accidentally flinging your pen to the floor, “oop, my bad.”
Dean leans down to grab the pen for you, impulsively placing his hand on your knee to steady himself as he bends forward. When he rises again, he hands you the pen and glances at where his hand is resting. He flushes a rosy pink before taking his hand off you like you’ve burned him. You shift away from him silently, pointing your knees away from him slightly.
As you continue to study and plan, the tension grows. First, it’s you noticing that whenever you speak to Dean and lick or bite your lips, he looks and his face flushes or his eyes darken. Then, it’s when you turn to show Sam something. As you turn, your legs move to balance yourself, your calf presses against Dean's leg. When you turn back around your leg moves and Deans subconsciously moves after you, chasing you. Next it’s when you reveal that one of the shifters flirted with you, and your proposal to use that to get information from him. Dean looks pissed, his brow furrowing and a barely perceptible sneer appearing on his face.
“That’s a terrible idea,” he almost growls.
“What? Why? If we have an in, we should take it,” Sam replies.
You watch as Sam looks up to glare at his brother, but he backs down when he sees Dean's expression, his face softening as Sam seems to make some kind of connection in his brain.
“Okay, neither of us want you hurt, obviously, but if it gets us important information then we should at least explore it,” Sam's voice is reasoning, not attacking, “we can make sure everyone’s completely safe.”
“Fine,” Dean almost pouted before shooting you a look you couldn’t quite decipher.
After that the tension between you two became almost unbearable and you decided you needed to talk it out.
—----
Later that night, when you’d retired to your own hotel rooms, you heard a knock at the door. You pad across the room to open the door, not bothering to change your pajamas. You’re dressed in an oversized shirt and pajama shorts.
You swing the door open, after looking through the peephole, to find Dean standing there, “what’s up?”
“I- uh, I just wanted, uh,” his eyes trail down your body, catching on the barely there hint of the hem of your pajama shorts.
After a moment of gawking that feels longer to him than it actually is, he clears his throat, “uh, I just wanted to go over the plan again before I hit the hay.”
“Ah, alright, come on in,” you turn and waltz back towards your motel bed.
As you walk you stretch your arms over your head, revealing just how tiny your shorts are and showing off a strip of your upper back as the oversized shirt drapes over your shoulders.
“Uh- actually you’re all ready for bed, we can talk tomorrow,” he talks faster than normal as he speeds to close the door to your room, voice sounding almost annoyed, “good night.”
You walk back over to the door, chuckling to yourself, since when was he so grouchy around you.
—
The next morning, you awaken to find the boys already gone to play pretend priest. You get yourself ready and head to the church, hoping for the opportunity to confront Dean about his weird behavior.
It seemed like he was mad at you, but he had no reason to be. As you stride into the church, you immediately lay eyes on Sam as he attends to some candles on an altar. Walking up to him, you tap his shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey, where’s your brother,” you look around as you ask him.
He points his thumb behind him, “he’s doing confession again, some people that missed out yesterday have been showing up to see him.”
“Do you know what’s been going on with him? He’s been weirdly grouchy with me,” you whisper, glancing over at the soundproof booth in the far corner of the chapel.
Sam sighs heavily, “he’s not grouchy, he’s just- ya know?”
You tilt your head obliviously.
Another deep sigh as he drags a hand over his face in exasperation, “god, don’t tell him I said anything. He’s not grouchy, he’s being protective,” he looks at you, eyebrows raised and hands moving in circular motions to push you towards the right conclusion.
“Protective? Why would he be protective of me,” you look at Sam's hands, trying to get his point.
When it finally hits you, you gasp, “oh!”
Sam nods, mouth pulled into a fine line as he awkwardly tuts, “yep, you got it.”
“W-well, I don’t think, I- uh,” you stammer, searching for a reason he’s wrong.
“Just go talk to him if you think I’m wrong,” he turns back to the candles, waving you off.
“I-I guess I will,” you try to make your voice sound determined.
As you make your way over to the confession booth, planning to sit on a pew and wait nearby, a man exits the booth. He leaves the door wide open for you and you decide to change your plan. You sneak into the confession booth, closing the door behind you.
You sit down and Dean remains silent, the partition is closed so you know he can’t see you.
You roll your eyes as you mutter, “forgive me father, for I have sinned.”
You hear a surprised noise from Dean's side of the partition before he says your name softly, “what’re you doing?”
“Confession, obviously,” you laugh nervously, “just let me confess some stuff.”
You hear a heavy sigh, “fine, get it over with.”
You take a deep breath to settle yourself before you start, “So…there’s this guy-”
“Dude, I don’t want to hear about what you did with some guy-,” Dean cuts you off, sounding agitated.
“No, no, no, it’s not like that,” you interrupt, “just wait a second.”
Dean groans lowly, but remains silent to let you finish.
“So, there’s this guy and we’re pretty close. We don’t see each other that often since we’re both always traveling, but when I do see him it’s always a good time. He’s nice to me, he listens to my opinions and doesn’t write me off like some hunters do, he always makes me feel a little special, and he’s hilarious. Well, hilarious might be a little generous, but he’s a huge dork and it’s pretty funny.
“Are you almost done? None of this involves sins you need to confess,” Dean sounds annoyed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there,” you reply before continuing, “so anyways, I think he likes me, but I’m not sure he knows that he likes me or if he does then he’s just being too much of a pussy to tell me.”
You hear Dean start to protest, but you continue anyway.
“The thing is, I like him too and I would tell him, but I’m also too much of a pussy to tell him,” Dean finally stops trying to argue.
“But here’s the sinning part,” you take another deep breath before you make your move, “when I’m alone…and I think of him, I think that constitutes a sin.”
You hear Dean suck in a breath as if preparing for impact.
“-I can’t keep my head straight, he takes over every thought until I have to do something about it,” you quiet your voice, hushed tones sending a chill down his spine, “when it gets really bad I’ll just let my hands travel where they want, do what they want, do what I wish he was doing.”
You can hear Dean breathing heavily, the sound anchoring you, showing that he hasn’t run away and maybe he’ll admit what he’s been hiding.
“Whenever I let myself go, let myself give in to the temptation, I end up coming undone with his name on my lips. At this rate I’m sure half a million random motel guests have heard his name through the walls. Either way though, it never compares to what I think it would be like with him so I keep chasing it and letting myself fall to temptation, which is the sin I came to confess.”
Dean's gone completely silent, his breathing gone, his presence still felt, but not heard.
Before his silence can make you overthink it, you continue, “what do you think of all that?”
Suddenly, the partition flies open. You lean forward to look through the window and are met with the incredibly flushed face of Dean Winchester.
“You mean all that,” he gruffs the question as his eyes burn into you.
“Yeah,” your voice is barely above a whisper, muted by anticipation, “I mean it.”
With that, Dean's hands come through the window, grabbing your face and pulling you towards him. His lips crash against yours in a flaring kiss, knocking a shocked gasp from you that’s muffled by his mouth.
He damn near consumes you, pressing his face into yours, his hands holding your face against his. He tentatively licks at your bottom lip and you let him in without a second thought. Your tongues fight for dominance in his haste to get as much of you as he possibly can. After a moment he breaks the kiss, backing up and panting, his hot breath fanning against your wet lips.
“W-what do you think of all that,” he asks, taking your words from a moment ago.
“I think we should have done that sooner,” your hands go through the window, grabbing his jaw and neck and pulling him back to you.
This kiss is softer, but equally passionate. You feel like your heart’s going to beat out of your chest as you welcome his tongue into your mouth again. As the heat starts to ramp up, the kiss returns to the desperation of before. Dean nips at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and groaning quietly when you gasp. His hand travels up until he’s holding the back of your head, pulling your hair ever so slightly.
You whine into the kiss, pressing your thighs together as your thoughts race. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of what you could do to him.
“I-I want you,” you whisper against his lips.
“How do you want me,” he replies, equally soft.
“Above me, doing whatever you want to me,” you smirk when his breath catches at your words.
“Meet me in the office in five minutes,” he growls before pressing one more kiss to your lips and closing the partition again.
You collect yourself and meekly open the door. As you pass across the chapel floor, Sam shoots you a questioning look as if to see how your talk went.
You give him two thumbs up before shouting across the empty church, “all good, I’m going to prep for later!”
He responds with a thumbs up and a nod before returning to what he’s working on.
As you travel into the depths of the chapel, past storage rooms, a staircase to the upstairs, and event rooms for Sunday school, your gut is filled with butterflies. They flutter around, rattling your rib cage with their enthusiasm, you’re practically buzzing with suspense.
Reaching the office door, you swing it open before silently closing it behind you and taking your usual seat on the edge of the desk. You wait in silence, anticipation threatening to turn to anxiety as time passes.
Just when you’ve decided to give up and embarrassingly walk back out to the chapel, the door swings open. Your butterflies turn to angry moths that drown out any other feeling besides the desk below you as Dean comes in and shuts the door behind him, locking it.
He beelines to you, grasping your face in one hand while the other slams onto the desk next to you, caging you. He presses his lips to yours, the kiss warm and gentle at first before it devolves into the previous tongue and teeth of the confession booth.
“Sorry,” he pants against your lips before kissing you again, “Sam wanted to talk to me about our ‘talk’ and I didn’t want to tell him I was rushing back here.”
“-s okay, just kiss me,” you reply as you pull his face back to yours.
You place one hand on his jaw and the other on his shoulder as you lean upwards to meet him. Dean's hand slides from your face down to your blouse, haltingly playing with the edge of it.
Giving him permission, you try to shrug off that side. He takes the hint and slides the short sleeve down your arm. He follows suit with the other side, pulling the shirt down until your bra is exposed. He cups one breast with his hand, heat searing your skin in the most delicious way. You arch into his touch and bite down on his bottom lip and tug it, just a little to make him groan again. His hand squeezes you gently, testing the waters, when you lean into his touch more he presses harder. You let out a quiet whimper at the contact, your face starts to burn in embarrassment, he’s barely touched you and you’re already making pathetic noises.
“You’re so responsive,” Dean chuckles against your lips.
“At least one of us i-is comfortable voicing how we feel,” you try to snark back, but it comes out less impactful than you want.
“Hm, I think you’re just desperate,” Dean hums as his hand explores the border of your bra.
“Like you’re not,” you laugh, “I can feel how excited you are.”
Dean had subconsciously pressed against your body and looked down to see that you could, indeed, feel how excited he was.
His deep laugh rumbles through you, “you got me there.”
He slips his fingers under the cup of your bra, warm skin sending tingles across you. He teases your nipple, just brushing over it at first, but when you respond positively he pinches it.
You moan, tiling your head back a little, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck. His lips are softer than you expected, considering his rough exterior, you relish in the feeling of him making his way down your body. He trails lower and lower down your neck until he reaches your collar bone and lightly nips at your skin.
His other hand travels to your right breast, sliding under the cup and pulling at your nipple before you have time to process what he’s doing.
“Oh god,” you whimper weakly, unthinkingly moving your body towards him more and closing your eyes.
You can feel the weight of his arousal against your leg as he leans down to reach your neck. He removes his right hand from you and you whine quietly at the loss. Before you can complain more, he replaces his fingers by licking upwards across your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You bite down on your lip to stifle the sounds threatening to leave you as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub. He takes it into his mouth, finally, continuing to swirl his tongue and pinch and pull the other one.
You rock your hips a bit, pressing your thighs together and searching for any friction to cure the throbbing between your thighs.
He releases your nipple and kisses over your skin. When he stops, he sucks a mark into the taut skin of your breast.
You glower down at him, a smug smirk on him even with you still in his mouth.
He releases you with an exaggerated pop and pokes the new mark, “for later, so you don’t forget me.”
You start to protest when he finishes your thought, “as if you’d ever forget me,” he throws you a wink before returning to the task at hand.
He steps back to take you in for the first time.
“Wow,” he says breathily, “you’ve got great tits.”
You roll your eyes, “Dean, can you even pretend to be a bit romantic?”
“I’m about to fuck you on the desk of a priest I killed, what’s not romantic about that,” he gives you a charming smile before approaching you again.
You jokingly start to pull your shirt back up when he grabs your wrists. You look at him and find his eyes dark and a serious expression on his face.
“I’m not done with you,” he almost growls and the sound goes straight to your core.
You can feel your face heat up exponentially.
“You think I haven’t noticed you rubbing your thighs together like that’ll compare to anything I could do to you, baby we’re just getting started,” he lets your wrists go with an almost demeaning click of his tongue that shouldn’t make you feel as excited as you are.
He shoves one hand, unceremoniously between your thighs and presses against your heat. You moan before you can stop yourself, watching his hand to avoid eye contact.
“Now that’s more like it,” he chuckles, “let’s get you out of these.”
He undoes your jeans like he’s done this a million times, which he might’ve now that you think about it, and unzips them for you. You go to shimmy out of them, but instead of waiting for you to get off the desk, he just lifts you and lets you pull them down. You shove the shock and excitement at him lifting you so effortlessly down and kick off your jeans and underwear. Once you’re pants-less he drops to his knees in front of the desk. You try to protest but he just pulls your thighs apart and presses on the back of your thighs until your legs are in the air.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters to himself.
He looks up at you earnestly, “normally I’d take my time, taste you until you beg me to stop, but I don’t want Sammy walking in on this.”
“T-that’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to d-,” you didn’t picture him as such a selfless lover so you’d been expecting him to avoid the whole topic.
Before you can finish, Dean licks a wide stripe through your folds. When he reaches your clit, he swirls his tongue around it, delighting in watching you throw your head back.
He rises back to his full height and undoes his pants. He goes to pull his shirt off, but you stop him.
“L-leave it on please," you say meekly.
“Does the ‘father’ get-up do something for you,” Dean smirks.
You look away, ignoring him when he chuckles, “of course it does.”
He releases himself from his slacks and you’re immediately drawn aback. You hadn’t had many expectations of what he looked like, but whatever you’d pictured was blown out of the water by the reality in front of you. He was beautiful, there were no other words for it.
“When we’re done here, I’m taking you to your room and showing you what being with me should be like, but right now I just need you and I think you need me,” he stares, awestruck at your body as he speaks.
Shaking his head faintly, as if to clear it, he slides two fingers into his mouth. You watch as he then presses them to your core, slipping inside you and pumping them for only a moment before he slides them up to your clit. You tense when he enters you and try to mute your sounds, but you can’t help but whine when he touches your clit again.
“Ready,” he asks, voice soft and reassuring.
“Y-yes, please, I’ve waited so long,” you ramble.
Dean chuckles, “I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, so obedient.”
He presses one hand to your shoulder, laying you back on the desk, and steps forward. He lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing through your wetness a few times, until he finally presses forward into you.
You both gasp, a shiver going through you as you finally give in to temptation.
“Oh fuck,” Dean growls, low and heavy, the sound reverberates through you only adding to the pleasure.
A strangled whine falls from your lips as you try to remain quiet in the small office. Dean pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you, pausing to let you adjust. The pause feels agonizingly long. Your body feels warm, everything's buzzing, pressure inhabiting your center almost enough to drive you mad.
“D-Dean,” you whimper, “please..”
“Please what,” he smirks, the hint of him fighting every urge to ravage you still visible in his eyes.
“P-please fuck me,” you say quietly.
“Hmm,” he looks around as if he’s really considering it, eyes snapping back to yours after a second, “not yet. You haven’t repented.”
“I- what, but I-,” you start, but he holds up his hand to silence you.
“Give me an ‘Our Father’ and I’ll consider it,” he looks so smug you want to scream.
He rests one hand on your knee and the other against the back of your other thigh as he waits.
“I- fine,” you groan, not wanting to admit how much you like his whole priest act, “our Father, who art in h-”
Almost as soon as you start, you’re interrupted by Dean pulling back and thrusting into you hard.
“Mmf, fuck,” you shriek.
“I didn’t, mm shit, tell you to stop,” he pulls back and pauses, just his head remaining in you.
You whine loudly before continuing, “w-who art in heaven-”
He starts moving again, dragging intoxicatingly against your walls. You continue the prayer as he watches. His eyes are dark, an almost sinister grin on his face as you follow his every command so easily.
Small groans leave his lips as you pray, a deep flush on his cheeks, it's a dazzling sight.
“N-Now give me a Hail Mary,” he grunts, “show me how much of a good little sinner you can be.”
Your heart jumps at his words, you comply immediately, hopeful that he’ll keep talking like that.
“Hail, Mary, full of grace-”
He picks up to a punishing pace, hips smacking against you, filling the room with noises of skin on skin. You moan through most of the prayer, rolling your hips to meet him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re doing so good, so wet f’r me,” the end of his sentence turns into a moan.
He towers over you, lowering himself to kiss your neck more, never stopping his hips as he slams into you.
He fills your senses, you forget to worry about someone finding you when he says, “so good for me, my good little devotee,” your brain is only focused on being his.
“Yours,” you whimper so quiet he almost misses it.
“Hm? What’s that, baby,” his voice is low, breath warm against your neck between kisses.
“Yours,” you moan, “yours, wanna be yours.”
“Oh darling, you are mine, all mine,” he chuckles.
You let out a pornographic noise, bucking your hips against him as he continues to whisper filthy things against your skin.
“All mine, gonna make you confess everyday if it means I get you in that little booth all to myself,” his words make your brain fuzzy.
His hand leaves your knee, sliding up your body until he finds your hand and interlaces your fingers. His hips crash into yours, your velvety walls driving him crazy. You feel your pleasure pool in your gut, threatening to break through at any moment. Your whole body tenses as you prepare for what’s to come. Dean reacts with a deep moan and a tighter grip on you.
His hips stutter faintly, “are you close,” his voice is stifled, like he’s struggling to keep it together as much as you are.
You nod your head furiously, “y-yes, so close, p-please don’t stop!”
He growls against your skin when you tense again, hips moving faster and hitting inside you harder.
“Show me how good you are, show me you’ve earned it,” he rasps.
You move your hips against him and thrust your hand into his hair, holding onto him for dear life, “please, please, please, I’m so good, I’ll never sin again, just let me cum, please,” your voice drops into a whisper as you keep begging.
"I a-absolve you from your, fuck, sins in the name of the Father, and of-f the Son, and, mmf, the Holy Spirit,” his words mixed with the way he’s dressed almost send you over the edge on their own, “cum for me.”
You throw your head back as he pushes in particularly harshly, sending you plummeting into near hysterics as you cum. Your pleasure washes over you, white hot, as you shriek his name.
Dean’s not far behind, reaching his peak when you tighten around him and tug his hair as you cum. He spills inside you with a moan that morphs into almost a roar.
You ride out your highs as he slows down his movements until he comes to a full stop and pulls out.
“I’m glad we had this talk,” you joke, still reeling from your earth shaking orgasm.
“Let this be a lesson on how rewarding it is to give in to temptation,” he pants a laugh.
He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your face before helping you sit up, “I do want to talk about this later though, I think I’m ready to stop being a ‘pussy’ as you put it.”
“Wow, growth, I wasn’t expecting that from you,” you smirk.
“Hey, I’m completely capable of growt-” a knock interrupts him.
“Hey, are you guys in there,” Sam's voice lilts through the heavy wooden door, “you’ve got a late comer for confession.”
You shoot Dean a panicked look.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be out in a sec,” Dean calls through the door, zipping his pants again.
“I figured,” Sam sighs.
You quickly dress yourselves, helping Dean fix his hair, before you leave the room.
Sam's waiting on the other side of the door, his face painted with disgust when you exit together.
“Ew,” he groans.
He walks past you into the office to grab something.
You and Dean burst into laughter when you hear his voice call, “on the desk?! Seriously?!”