hopelessfangirl

O HAI, I finally made some progress on my Dean/Izzie claim at

spn_random.

Title: Like Something Out of a Magazine
Fandom: Supernatural/Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Izzie Stevens
Rating: PG for mild language
Word Count: 1,583
Summary: Izzie has a hard day at work and gets a pleasant surprise by Dean.
Table #/Prompt #: Table 2, Prompt 3
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dean/Supernatural or Izzie/Grey's Anatomy. They belong to Eric Kripke and Shonda Rhimes, respectively. I'm seeing what I can do about getting my very own Dean, though. ;)
Author's Notes: Prompt #3 - Romance for my Dizzie claim at

spn_random. Endless thanks to

invisiblelove for make sure it didn't suck. ;) ♥

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Izzie fumbled with the key to her apartment. It was a long day at work -- actually, it was a 36-hour shift, so technically more than a day -- and her eyes felt swollen and burning with fatigue. Despite the fact that she was grateful for the peace and quiet of her new place, she cursed the fact that she couldn't just knock on the door like she always could and Meredith or George would let her in. It was times like these when she missed having them as roommates. But for now she kept her focus on getting into her nice soft bed, with her nice soft sheets, in the nice soft darkness that the evening hours so kindly provided.

Her eyes had already drifted shut when she finally unlocked the deadbolt and pushed her way inside. It wasn't until the door was shut behind her that she became aware of the flickering orange glow coming from her living room.

"JESUS CHRIST!" she shouted, flattening herself back against the door. After several long seconds, she let out a chuckle of relief when it became clear that her apartment was not on fire. Instead she found herself participating in a staring contest with Dean, whose figure was completely silhouetted with the exception of his face, which donned an impecable impression of a deer in headlights.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Izzie asked him, vaguely aware that he was blocking the source of the flickering light.

Dean paused and smirked.

"The good people at American Express," he replied, shoving his hand into his back pocket and withdrawing a credit card.

Izzie stared at him with her mouth agape, shaking her head. He moved aside and sat down on one of two empty chairs that were arranged on opposite sides of a small table. Upon the table was a a rose-colored tablecloth and all the preparations for a candlelit dinner.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Izzie put down her bag and walked slowly over to the empty seat opposite Dean, her pulse starting to steady as it came down from the adrenaline rush.

"Oh, damn, hang on, I was supposed to..." he trailed off as he got up and went around to her side of the table to push her chair in for her.

Her eyes followed him as he sat back down. She blinked at him for a few seconds until finally she put on an overly fake smile, extended her hand across the table and asked, "Hi, Izzie Stevens, I don't think we've met?"

"You're funny," Dean nodded, an obvious tone of sarcasm in his voice.

She stared at him, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously. Dean Winchester goes out of his way all the time to break into girls' apartments and make them dinner?" She knew full well having known Dean for as long as she had that the answer to that question was Hell no, but she was anxious to hear what on God's green earth had inspired this.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He tried again: "Www-- uh, well. I don't know. You've been working a lot lately and we hardly get to see each other and, you know, I just figured I'd do something nice for a change. For, uh, for you." He scratched the back of his head. "I mean, it's not a big deal..." If you looked really close, you might have seen him blushing.

Izzie smiled at him. "Well... thanks," she said softly.

Dean cleared his throat. "I kinda burnt the stir fry," he frowned. "But my skills with an open flame are pretty much limited to salted things, so, you know." He flashed Izzie a cheeky smile and she laughed, getting the joke.

"No, it's..." She speared something with her fork and raised an eyebrow as she examined it, trying to figure out what the charred remnants once were. She thought it was a carrott but she wasn't positive.

"...yeah, I'll take that," he said, swapping it with one of his good ones. He took all of her unedible veggies and traded them with his own until Izzie was left with a decent looking meal and Dean looked like he was about to enjoy a nice plate of soot. He figured his iron stomach could handle it anyway.

They ate contentedly for a while, Izzie chatting away about the events of her day at the hospital, with emphasis on a couple strange cases in the clinic which she knew Dean loved hearing about. Her fatigue was long forgotten in the unexpected blur of everything and she didn't realize how hungry she was until her plate was already half gone and she'd only been home for 25 minutes.

When they were finished with dinner, Dean got up to collect their plates but Izzie stopped him.
"No. There's no way are you doing the dishes too, people won't believe me when I tell them this story." She looked up at Dean who just stared back at her with raised eyebrows. "I'm serious. Thank you, though." She stood up and kissed him quickly on the lips, taking the dishes from of both of his hands and placing them in the sink.

Before she had a chance to ask him what was next, the familiar sound of roaring guitars emitted from Dean's cell phone, and he glanced at the screen.

"Hey," he said, answering it. The casual tone in his voice told Izzie that Sam was on the other end of the line. "You're kidding. In Portland? But aren't those things usually northeastern? ...I guess. Or it won some money and was headed to Vegas. No, it's fine." Dean let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Okay, I'll see you in ten minutes."

He hit the End button on the phone and turned to Izzie, clearing his throat. "That was Sammy. He thinks he's got a lead on a wendigo in Oregon, so the quicker we get there, the better. Those things are a bitch to track, but we've hunted one of 'em before, so it shouldn't be too long of a job. We could probably be back in a couple days."

"Yeah, no, that's cool," she said. "I've got two more 36-ers and a heart surgery in the next four days, so I'd probably miss you anyway."

"Yeah, okay," he said, getting his things together and stuffing them in his trademark duffel bag. "Rain check on the rest of the uh, romantic evening, okay?"

"Definitely," she smiled sleepily. It was amazing how quickly the exhaustion she felt on her way home was starting to creep in again now that her belly was full. She was secretly thankful that the rest of the activities that Dean had planned for them had to be postponed for the time being. At the same time, she also regretted that she wouldn't be able to share that snuggly bed of hers with him like she had hoped.

"See ya," Dean said, wrapping his free arm around Izzie's waist.

"Bye," she managed to blurt before her lips locked with his in a long, warm, farewell kiss.

They parted, and Dean was closing the door behind him seconds later.

Izzie walked over to the door and locked it, flattening herself against it for the second time that night. She took in the sight of the candlelit table and smiled to herself as she started blowing out the flames on her way to bed. She was just about to blow out the last wick when her eye caught a glimpse of a pile of dog-eared pages peeking out from under the sofa in the living room which very clearly looked like they had been shoved under there in a hurry. She bent down and tugged at them, examining what she held in her hand. Izzie realized very quickly that she was holding an issue of GQ which she most certainly did not purchase.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me, she muttered to herself in amusement as she let the pages fall open of their own accord to the most creased page. The article's title read, "101 Date Ideas So Simple, You Don't Know Why You Didn't Think Of Them" with a fake stamp overlapping it that said, "TRIED, TESTED, CHICK APPROVED." She laughed out loud in complete disbelief, picturing Dean in a drug store, spotting that article on the cover and hoping no one would notice as he snuck it in with his Playboy, Maxim and World Weekly News.

Izzie's eyes wandered over to the section of the page that Dean had circled and sure enough, there was their evening perfectly spelled out and planned to a tee. It read:

#6 - Candlelit Dinner
Sure, it's sappy and cliché, but it WORKS. The prep is simple. Get 3-5 candles (red, gold, silver, or her favorite color if you remember it) and put them in the center of the table. For dinner ideas, check the recipes on page 87 or find something online that you think you to handle. ("Oh, I'm sure he looked for something online..." Izzie snorted.) Last, pick up some red wine or champagne and set it all out. Oh, and be a gentleman and push in her chair for her.

Izzie still couldn't believe the absurdity of the whole situation. A spring must have popped loose in Dean's head for him to have actually executed this plan. But despite how uncharacteristic it was, she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Smirking as she walked over to the side table, Izzie got a pen and nonchalantly circled a few of her other favourite date ideas. She could only imagine the reaction Dean would have when he realized that she discovered his bag of tricks, but with any luck she hoped that he would get the hint that he was on the right track and know that she appreciated the effort.

Once she was finished, she stuffed the magazine back under the sofa the way she had found it and blew out the last candle. Pleased with herself, she sauntered off to bed.

Somewhere inside it made Izzie happy to know that for all of the coyness and false charm he prided his reputation on, the only person Dean Winchester let glimpse his Prince Charming side was her.