Up or down?
Up or down?
She had been standing in front of the mirror for the past ten minutes pulling her thick red hair up, then just as quickly releasing it. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like a raging hurricane. Her tiny studio apartment looked as if a hurricane had gone through it as well. Clothes lay scattered around, there was even a shirt hanging from the ceiling fan that was slowly spinning overhead. He would be there soon, and she still had no idea what to wear.
Many of the others could not bother to give him a second look. Too scrawny, how could he provide for them? They preferred the big hulking men with more muscles than brains. But to her? He was her hero. He could do no wrong and all he asked for in return was a date. That thought alone turned her cheeks the color of her hair. Still, he could not take her on a date if she did not get ready. It would be so much easier if she had a girl friend to come over and help her prepare, maybe she should have called Jackie over to help. He had more fashion sense in his little finger than she had in her entire body. It was too late for that now though. She had thirty minutes to throw together the perfect outfit.
Digging through the piles of clothes again, she just frowned, picking up white button down blouse after white button down blouse. She was a social worker after all, her clothes were practical not pretty. She paused for a moment and then remembered. It was probably a little out of fashion, her mother had worn it the day she’d met her father ages ago, but it was better than going naked. She tripped over the lose clothes on the floor as she made her way to the trunk at the end of her twin sized bed. She dug around only a minute before finding what she sought. Standing up she shook out the short sleeved, blue tartan dress. At least there was no mistaking her heritage, as if the flaming red hair and ridiculous accent were not enough.
The sleeves were a bit too poofy, and there was a chance she looked like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl, but at least some of the butterflies had calmed themselves. She was truly going to go on a date with him. Out of everyone, he had chosen her. That thought brought the hurricane back full tilt, so when the intercom rang she had to take a deep breath. She hugged her stomach briefly before walking over to the buzzer.
“I’ll be right down.”
[A little something from my character Maira’s POV written for my friend. :) She insisted I post this so HERE YOU GO! :D )
I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?
Because Dean is a BAMF who can just pick up a busted walkman and make an emf reader out of it like it’s nothing. Seriously I don’t understand why anyone would think Dean is just a grunt. He’s not. He’s fucking intelligent and his intellect, wittiness, and fascinating knowledge of pop culture is even more intriguing when you think about the fact that he barely even attended school, most likely never had much of a social life or friends while growing up, didn’t graduate, simply has a GED and has never attended college all the while taking care of his little brother like a father and being busy hunting monsters and saving people. Yet, he somehow managed to collect this vast amount of knowledge along the way. Dean is fucking smart as fuck. And it’s been made pretty obvious that he likes to read and that he is quite the geek even if he wants to pretend he’s not.
And that’s not even mentioning the fact that he REBUILT the Impala from the ground up pretty much. I mean she was really just a twisted wreck with a frame that had been turned into a pretzel and probably very few working parts in her engine after being smashed by a Semi and he rebuilt her and kept the parts of her that made her theirs.