weary_head | (no subject)

It was the clothes box's fault.

Really.

Tired of his own threadbare collection, Dean had been digging for underwear, hand thrust elbow deep into the clothing box. He didn't expect his fingers to land upon satin. He sure didn't expect to pull said satin out and find it took the form of panties.

"Ho-ly shit," Dean exhaled, pulling them out to stretch in front of him. They were a few sizes too large for Angua, and that was a damn shame. He liked satin panties. Pink satin ones in particular, which, come to think of it, he thought he'd seen in Angua's clothes drawer back at the hut, though they'd yet to make an appearance on her body. And Angua was out on patrol.

This presented Dean with some intriguing possibilities.

Forgetting his own shortage of boxers, Dean booked it back to the hut, crossing straight to their room and opening the door. No one was inside, and Dean went to the dresser, looking around one last time before he pulled the top drawer open.

And there they were.

Pink satin panties, right on top, silky and alluring in the same way Rhonda Hurley's had been when she'd made him...Dean brought that line of thinking to a halt, clamping down hard on a nervous giggle.

Still.

He was here.

And they were here.

Reaching down, Dean brushed a finger over the smooth material, blushing to the roots of his hair even as he began to grin.

Angua never knocked when she came home and went to the bedroom. Truth be told, she and Dean were both so busy that the only time they really hung around in the bedroom was when they were in there together.

Still, Angua liked to keep things exciting, always hoping to find Dean with his pants down, or reading romance novels, or something unexpected.

It looked like today she was getting her wish.

There Dean stood, holding a pair of her panties up to himself like he wondered if they'd fit, grinning.

"This is certainly a new development," she said, eyebrow raised.