It was late into the night. Prom night—and get this, senior prom night. Dean was your date, ditching his fast and loose attitude for the night to be all gentlemanly as he was supposed to be. After the dance and dinner, the two of you were talked into attending the after party.

The place was packed with seniors and their dates. The host had a huge house with a multitude of rooms and tucked away corners. After a while you both got sick of the crowds and slipped away together. You entered a small office looking room with a cozy looking couch and a homely quilt.

His suit, once nipped and tucked to perfection, has now fallen askew with the night’s events. His cheapo borrowed tie (from his father’s FBI getup) is loosened around his neck. His cuff links are tousled and his suit jacket is over your shoulders.

“…finally.” He mutters as he clicks the door shut behind you two. “Could barely think out there.” He settles beside you on the couch, draping an arm over you. He lets his gaze flicker over your complexion. My, god, you could clean up nice. He pecks a small, lingering, kiss to your cheek. Briefly inhaling your scent.

You huddle up closer to him and he shifts to face you. “You look real nice, tonight. Have I told you that?” Only about five other times tonight. In his mind, he can’t tell you enough. Dean isn’t the sentimental type—but something about you, his perfect date, on his last perfect night before he graduated or dropped out prematurely. It got him all touchy-feely.

The soft glow of the office light warms his face. He wraps the quilt around you both. “You been havin’ a good time tonight?” He whispers. Just to make sure. He wants his other half happy. Life was all about good times, ‘specially with someone you fancy.