God, he’s just a kid. Dean’s younger self swaggers around the room in his oversized leather jacket, the amulet bouncing off his hard chest, like he’s not a worry in the world. Sharp features, soft pink lips, a challenging smirk, and it’s strange to see himself how the world sees him.
The patch of stubble that makes him feel that little bit more manly. The Dean on the other side of the room must be eighteen or nineteen, Rhonda Hurley sort of period. Actually, he recognises that hickey. Lisa.
"You wanna know that I’m me? Bendy, ain’t she, Lisa," he drawls.
The other Dean raises his eyebrow. “Bendiest fuck I’ve ever had,” he smirks.
"And best too, huh?"
The other Dean shrugs, coming closer. “So far, sure.” He tilts his head and lets his mouth drop that tiny bit open.
liane balaban and vicki vantoch.
that’s it. that’s the post.