Addicted Part One
"Goddammit," you swore as you slammed the back door to the Impala.
"Hey, don't take your shit out on Baby. It's not her fault the witch got away," Dean scolds as he huffs his way in through the garage and into the bunker.
You glower at the back of his head as he stomps off. We had spent weeks tracking this witch only for her to escape in Madison. It was your own goddamn fault for losing the Witchcatcher. You had one freaking job.
Sam didn't say anything. He just shrugs at you, lets out a lethargic sigh, and heads inside. He doesn't show his anger the way Dean did. Instead, he just looks disappointed which was almost worse.
Grumbling, you storm down the hall of the bunker, through the library, and into your room. The echo of your door slamming vibrates throughout the bunker.
The stash you normally keep on you at all times was also lost when you were scrambling through the Wisconsin woods. That's two crucial things you'll never seen again. You curse under your breath knowing that you were actually angry with yourself, but you take it out on your dresser drawers. There was normally an emergency stash hidden in there somewhere.
The car ride back home had been long and quiet. Dean had blasted Zepplin in order to stave off your inevitable fight. He was pissed at you and was trying not to show it. Hunting would put a strain on anybody's relationship, but it made it even harder for you two since you were both hotheads.
"Yes," you mutter under your breath as you found a little, plastic baggy of white powder under the old, ratty underwear you never use anymore. This is why you keep multiple stashes. Just in case.
Ten minutes later you're laying on the bed with your back against the headboard. All the feelings of guilt, anger, and shame quickly dissipate. Now it was just pure bliss. However, a knock on the door has you hurriedly shoving the rest of your stash in your nightstand and brushing your nose.
"Y/N?," Dean called as he slips into your room, closing the door behind him.
You give him a big, toothy grin. "Hey baby."
Dean arches his eyebrow at you and gave a quizzical look, confused by the change in your demeanor. Before he can say anything though, you begin rambling.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. I fucked up bad. I promise I'll get you a new Witchcatcher. I'll be more careful next time."
Dean contemplates your blubbering face and lets out a deep sigh. "Forget about it," he murmurs, "We'll get 'em next time."
He climbs onto the bed and scoots up next to you. Your head sinks into his shoulder and you interlace your fingers with his, the silence settling over you like a blanket.
Two weeks later you and the boys were in butt-fuck, nowhere Wyoming. The local motel, bar, and diner were all a stone throw away from each other and there didn't seem to be much else in this town.
The Impala pulls up to the shabby, little motel after a long day of interviews and research. Sam had a hunch that the death of the two teens in the old shoe factory were the result of a poltergeist. He wants to check a book that he had left in his room though.
As soon as you enter the dingy room, Sam starts ruffling through his bag for the book. Dean goes straight to the mini fridge and pulls out one of his beers, cracking it and putting his feet up on the table. You sit on the bed and run your hands through you hair. You are itching for a fix and your supply is running low.
As if the universe had heard your thoughts, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It's a message from the disgruntled, dish boy you had met this morning.
"I have what you asked for. Meet me outside the diner in 10 minutes."
"Found it!" Sam pulls out an old book from the bowls of his bag. He sits on the bed and flips through the pages. Dean leans his elbow on the table and rubs his temples in between gulps of beer.
"Hey while you're looking up - whatever it is you're looking up - I'm just gonna skip over to the pharmacy down the street. I noticed it on the way into town," you explain to the boys as nonchalantly as you can.
Sam gives you a quick wave, not evening looking up from his book, but Dean narrows his eyes at you and asks, "Why do you need to go to the pharmacy?" He always worries about you going off on your own while you're on a case. Despite the fact that you've proven time and time again that you can hold your own.
"Lady problems. But if you have an issue with me going, you could always go for me and I could sit around drinking beer," you bite back at him.
He grimaces at you, "Go, go. But be back soon. We want to head out as soon as possible, so we can get this bitch."
You nod as you pass through the door. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
Jaunting down the street, you wonder if this dinky, little town even has a pharmacy.
A few hours later the three of you pile into the Impala, kind of dirty and in need of a drink. The poltergeist wound up being a pretty simple salt and burn; however, your shoulder still throbs from where the poltergeist threw a chair at you. Dean has a hole in his jacket sleeve and a shallow slice in his arm and Sam is still trying to get dust out of his eyes, but besides that you were all unscathed.
"God, I'm ready for a drink," Sam exclaims from the front passenger seat. Dean nods his head in agreement. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.
"Yea I feel like we should all go out and celebrate a painless hunt. It's been a long time since we've had a straight forward salt and burn," you quip from the backseat.
Dean chuckles, his features finally relaxing. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart," he declares as he revs the engine and puts his foot down on the gas.
You pull up to the bar and clamber inside. Sam and Dean immediately plant themselves at the bar and hail the bartender.
"Order me a whiskey," you call to Dean. "I'm just going to go to the ladies room."
Once in the bathroom, you pull out your stash and exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding. It has been almost 24 hours since your last hit. When you are finally sated, you lift your head and glance into the cloudy mirror. Your bloodshot eyes look back at you.
The bags under your eyes seem prominent to you even though Dean always insists that he doesn't notice them. The lack of sleep, diner food and constant travel leaves you looking bereft. I mean, your habit probably doesn't help either.
You splash some cold water on yourself and push your hair from your face. Giving yourself one more quick look-over, you go to join the guys at the bar.
Sam and Dean have moved to a booth in the corner with their drinks. You slide in next to Dean and he passes you a glass of whiskey. Picking it up, you shoot it back in one go. Dean smiles at you and throws his drink back too. You begin to feel warm inside and feel yourself smiling back.
"Well I'm glad this wound up being a quick trip. I can't wait to get back to the bunker and take a proper shower. I'm sick of grungy hotel showers," Sam grumbles while nursing his beer.
"Awe come on, Sammy! We're killing monsters, cruising with Baby, and touring all the fine bars America has to offer. What more could you want?" Dean smirks while hailing over a waitress. "Two more whiskies, please. And keep em' coming!"
Normally, you would be annoyed with how Dean winks at the waitress, but you are starting to feel real good and can only grin like a dope.
Sam rolls his eyes at Dean, but he laughs, joining in on Dean's jovial mood. For once, things feel good and you can push the world from your mind.
A few drinks later and Sam is the one chatting up the busty waitress at the bar while you and Dean remain tucked into your corner booth. Your head is swimming, but it feels so good.
"You were great today, baby girl," Dean murmurs into your ear. The alcohol is hitting him too and it makes you both more handsy than you would normally be in public.
"Thanks handsome. You weren't too bad yourself," you slur with a smile as you press into Dean. You face hovers inches away from his.
"You're pretty," he chuckles as he closes the distance between your lips and slinks his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like whiskey and smoke. You respond and press your lips harder against his, attacking his tongue with yours.
"Mmm, you're an eager girl tonight, aren't ya?" Dean whispers into your mouth. "You gotta be careful with what you're doing to me. Or I might need to take you right here."
His hand slides up your jean covered thigh. You giggle into his mouth and continue the assault on his tongue. Groaning, he gives your thigh a tight squeeze. You return the gesture and run your hand over the front of his jeans.
"Damn, you get me going so fast. Can you feel what you're doing to me?"
You nod your head as you feel his bulge through his denim. Dean moans when you return his squeeze. Pulling away from his kiss, you look at him through your eyelashes and lick your lips. "Let's get out of here."
Dean didn't need to be told twice. He springs up and ushers you towards the door. You laugh as you wobble on your feet and your head rushes. "Just a minute, lover boy," you stop him at the entrance. "Let me just go to the bathroom before we go. I've been drinking too much damn whiskey."
He grins at you and pulls you into a deep kiss. You can taste the need on his lips. "Ok, but don't take too long. I'll go tell Sam we're leaving."
Once in the bathroom, you pull your stash out of your pocket. One more hit for the night and you'll be good until tomorrow. You use a razor blade to arrange your cache on the grimy sink and bend over. Just has you are about to pull up, the bathroom door flies open.
"Sammy made a friend for the night and is taking off. I couldn't wait for you, so I thought I'd come in and…."
You jump in surprise and spin around. Dean's eyes widen as he gawks at you, glancing down at the sink, and then back at you. Your jaw falls and you are unable to produce any words.
"What the fuck, Y/N?," Dean yells. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Dean, this isn't what it looks like," you scramble and take a step towards him. He takes a step back and leans against the closed door.
"What the fuck is this suppose to look like? Are you kidding me, Y/N? What are you doing with this shit?"
Your words catch in your mouth and you don't have an answer for him. You look down at your feet trying to come up with an explanation, but your head just keeps on spinning.
"How long?," he asks in a low, gravely voice. "How long have you been using this shit?"
Bracing your hands behind you on the sink, you finally peer into his eyes. His eyes are narrowed in anger, but you can still see the sadness and hurt behind them. "I've always used, Dean," you whisper, "I've used since before we met."
Dean sucks in his breathe and stares down at you. "You mean you've been hiding this from me the entire time we've been together?"
"Come on, Dean! It's not a big deal. We deal with a lot of shit in our line of work. It just helps me relax, that's all."
That is apparently the worst thing you can say because Dean goes back to yelling at you. "This is a big fucking deal, Y/N. That shit will fuck you up. Don't you remember? I've dealt with people and addiction before."
Your eyes widen at him. Sam's demon blood addiction had never even crossed your mind before. But your habit wasn't the same.
"Come on, Dean. This is totally different from that."
"No it isn't!," Dean exclaims before you can say anything else. "That shit will kill you!"
Now you feel your own anger and pain bubbling up. You raise your voice to match his. "Well who the fuck are you to judge? You practically drink yourself stupid every night! Think of how many drunken nights we've spent together. What makes that so different?," you spit back at him.
Pushing past him, you stomp out of the bathroom and out of the bar. The cold, night air hits you like a train. Your coat is still in the Impala, but neither you or Dean are in any condition to drive. Besides, the motel is only a five-minute walk.
You hear the gravel crunching behind you as Dean catches up. He grabs your arm and spins you around to face him.
"Where the fuck are you going? I'm not done with you!," he rages. "How could you do this?"
The anger and despair you are always trying keep down continues to spill out in your inebriated state. "Demons killed my parents, Dean. You know that. When I was pulled into the hunting life, I needed something to keep me calm. To keep me sane. It's the one thing in my life that makes me feel fucking good!"
You immediately regret your words as you see the flash of grief cross Dean's face. He doesn't respond to your remark. It feels like you just slapped him in the face.
He continues to give you a hard look, but remains silent. The bar parking lot seems eerily quiet now that you've stopped yelling at each other. A shiver runs through you and you cross your arms, cursing at yourself for leaving your coat behind.
Dean catches your shiver. "Come on. Let's get back to the room. You'll catch your death out here," he mutters while still glaring at you.
Nodding numbly, you follow him towards the motel. The silence is heavy between you. You almost like the yelling better.
When you get back to the room you march straight into the bathroom and lock the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, you put your face into your hands and feel the tears starting to pour out.
Why are you such a fuck up? Dean has enough pain in his life without you causing him more grief. He deserves so much more.
You hear Dean press against the door. Holding your breath, you try to keep it together, so he can't hear you cry.
"It's different for me, Y/N. I have a high drinking tolerance. And I don't mix it with other shit," he laments. His voice is muffled and sounds heavy in his throat.
Unable to hold your breath anymore, you let out a big exhale and try not to choke on your own sobs.
"Come on, Y/N. Let me in."
You can hear the pain in his voice. You want to let him in. You want to be better for him. But you know you're just a broken, fuck up and you don't want him to see you like this. You already want another fix just to make this feeling stop.
"Go away, Dean," you bite out harshly. It's easier to be a bitch and push him away. You wipe the tears from your face and dig into your pocket. You're already in trouble, right? Might as well go big.
As you stand up and lean against the counter, you can hear Dean shuffle outside the door.
"Y/N, what are you doing?," he asks with a hint of panic in his voice.
"I said go away, Dean!," you yell as you dump your little bag on the counter. "This is none of your business."
"Y/N!," Dean roars as he slams his body against the door. You jump in surprise. It'll only be a matter of time before he gets in, so you try to arrange your stash quickly.
"Y/N, let me the fuck in!," Dean bellows as he continues to slam his body against the door. Just as you're about to dive into your cache, the flimsy door lock breaks and Dean bursts into the room.
For the second time tonight, Dean has caught you in the bathroom with your stash. Except this time you don't care. You try to finish before he can get to you, but he tackles you to the floor. Your shoulder slams into the tile and pain floods down your arm. It was already hurting from the hunt earlier today, but now you're sure it'll be bruised and sore for weeks.
"Dean, get the fuck off of me! You're hurting me!," you cry out at him as he straddles your waist and pins you on your back. He raises your arms above your head and holds them there, so you can't get away. "Just leave me alone."
You fruitlessly, flail underneath him, but he just holds you steady. Screaming out at him in frustration, you try to wriggle free.
"Goddamnit, Y/N! Just stay still," Dean yells down at you with narrow eyes. "I can't leave you alone for five fucking minutes without you trying to get high. How did you keep this from me for so long?"
Your turn your head to the side, so you don't have to look him in the eye. Your chest is heaving with exertion and your struggling has only succeeded in shifting your T-shirt, so it's exposing your midriff.
"You'd rather get high than be with me. Is that it? That shit makes you feel good and I can't?," Dean asks in a low voice. You can still hear his anger though.
Turning your head, you finally look him in the eye. Your head is still in a fog and your vision feels blurred, but you think you see a hint of fear behind his fierce eyes.
"I just don't care, Dean. I don't. Everything hurts so bad and I just want it to stop. I want it all to go away," you cry out. Glaring up at him, you let out a deep exhale. He can finally see how pathetic you are, and you just don't care anymore. An idea pops into your head and it feels like something in you has finally snapped.
"You wanna make me feel good, baby?," you purr at him. "Then make me feel good."
You begin to roll your hips underneath him and let out an evil grin. He looks down at you in surprise. A deep, guttural chuckle leaves your throat as you let yourself hit rock bottom.
"Come on, baby. I want you to make me feel good. Please make me feel good," you whine to him while thrusting your hips up more aggressively. You can feel his bulge begin to grow against your pelvis.
Dean gives you a hard look. He's still furious and upset, but the whiskey and your begging are beginning to cloud his judgement.
You rub your hips against his bulge and let out a little moan which pushes him over the edge. If you're not going to care, then why should he?
"Fuck, Y/N," Dean growls as he leans into you and shoves his tongue into your mouth. He still has you pinned beneath him, so all you can do is respond with your lips and a roll of your hips.
"You wanna feel good, baby girl?," Dean whispers into your mouth. The only response you can give is a slight groan. "Fine, I'll make you feel fucking good."
Suddenly, Dean dislodges his mouth from yours and springs away from you. Before you can even miss the feeling of his body pressed against you, he scoops you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in surprise as he carries you back into the bedroom.
You land heavily on the bed as he throws you down. Quickly, you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at him as he whips off his T-shirt. The muscles in his chest ripple and you feel your breath catch in your throat.
Slowly, he crawls onto the bed and over top of your body, never breaking eye contact. His jade eyes are darkened with lust. "Don't worry, baby girl," he hums into your ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good."
He sits up and straddles your thighs, his eyes burrowing back into yours. You flinch as you feel his finger tips graze the lower half of your stomach. His hands reach the button on your jeans and he pops it easily and slides your zipper down.
You fling your head back into the pillow in anticipation while gently lifting your hips up off the mattress. His fingers clench the waist of your jeans and he pulls your pants down your thighs languidly. Removing his knees from the mattress, his feet hit the floor as he stands at the end of the bed, looming over you. He carefully removes your jeans from your ankles until you are left wearing only your T-shirt and black panties.
"Damn, sweetheart," Dean hisses breathlessly. "You are something else."
Your face colours as he simply stands over you and takes you in. Reaching for your ankles, he pulls you down until your ass is perched at the end of the bed. "Put your feet up for me, baby," Dean demands as he places your feet flat on the end of the bed. Your legs are now spread wide for him with nothing but a thin strip of cotton covering your most intimate spot.
Whimpering, you rock your hips slightly with impatience. You want him touching every inch of you.
Dean chuckles, "Don't worry, baby girl. I got you." With that he slips to his knees in front of you. He leans in and you can feel his hot breath on your thigh. A shudder runs through your body and down to your bones.
"You look so pretty for me, all spread out," Dean murmurs into your thigh. You twitch as you feel his stubbly beard run against your smooth skin.
You let out a quiet moan when you feel his fingers graze down your panty-clad pussy. His nose nuzzles your clit through your panties as he inhales your scent. Immediately, your panties dampen.
"Mmm, does my girl like that? Gettin' all wet for me. You must want it so bad."
"Uh huh, I want you so badly, Dean," you mewl back.
He chuckles and rubs his fingers harder against your pussy, but your panties are baring him from fully entering you.
"Dean, please…," you exhale in frustration.
His eyes flicker over your body and bore into yours. "Yea, that's right Y/N," he goads. "Beg for it. Tell me what you want."
"Please, Dean..," you gasp as he lightly strokes over your clit.
"Please, what?"
"Please, I need you! Please touch me. I need you to fuck me, please," you finally wail. Your lust and need succumbing to Dean's demand.
Without further encouragement, Dean pounces on you and whips your panties down your legs quicker than lightening. Before your mind can catch up, his tongue is pressed in your folds and he's lapping you up.
You shriek at the sudden, intense contact. Dean's wide tongue trails from your ass to your clit in rapid succession before he finally plunges it into your pussy.
"Fuck, Dean," you hiss. "That feels so fucking good. Don't stop."
Dean hums his response into your folds which only makes you moan louder.
He then moves his attention to your sensitive, little nub. Licking mini circles into it, he groans into your core. "Damn baby girl, you taste so good."
You pant as he eases his index finger into you. He leisurely fucks his finger into you as he increases his attack on your clit.
"Oh my god, Dean," you whimper. "Please…"
Before you can finish your thought, he slides another finger into your folds and your breath catches. If you weren't high before, the endorphins coursing through your body would definitely make you high now.
Without pausing, he slides a third finger into you and you squirm with the pressure. He uses his free hand to press onto your belly and hold you still.
"Mmm, you're so fucking tight. Gotta open you up so you can take my thick cock," Dean mumbles into your pussy.
You groan at the thought of his big cock splitting you open. Dean's hand slips from your belly and moves up your body. He pushes your shirt up, so your tits are exposed, and he pinches your pert, pink nipples.
Heaving, you can feel your climax building. The stimulation on your pussy and nipples is pushing you over the edge.
"Deeeean..," you whine out to him in warning. "Feels so good, baby. I'm not going to last."
Instead of slowly down, Dean curls his fingers inside you and increases the pace of his finger fuck. "It's ok, baby girl. I want you to cum for me. I want you to squirt that pretty pussy for me."
You cry out at his demand and the return of his tongue on your clit pushes you to the edge.
"Fuck, Dean. I'm gonna…," you stop mid sentence to let out a silent scream as Dean pushes you to climax. Your juices spray over his hand and your pussy clamps onto his fingers like a vice. White light clouds your vision and you push the back of your head deep in your pillow. Your hips bucks against his rough fingers.
Dean doesn't relent his assault on your pussy and you have to push his head away when your clit becomes too sensitive. Panting heavily, you look down at him and see his green eyes gleaming at you. His face is dripping with your cum and he has a dopey grin.
He stands and uses his discarded shirt to wipe you off his face. "Fuck that was so hot. I love it when you squirt like that."
You smile weakly at him, finally coming down from your climax. Sitting up so you're seated at the end of the bed, you can detect the evidence of his arousal through the persisting lump in his jeans.
Pulling at the waist of his pants, you drag him towards you so he's standing between your legs. Your lust filled eyes look up at him through your lashes. "Fuck me, Dean," you demand as your voice drips with desire.
He doesn't need to be told twice as he desperately wraps his hand around your neck and leans down to plunge his tongue into your mouth. You can taste yourself on him and it makes your pussy quiver. Neither of you can wait any longer.
"I need you inside of me," you murmur as you quickly unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans.
"Fuck, Y/N," he replies. "I need to put my fat cock into you now."
He clumsily paws at your bunched-up shirt and you exhale an impatient breath as you have to remove your hands from him, so your shirt can come off. Once it's ripped over your head, your hands return to him and you pull down his jeans and boxers in one swoop.
Dean's cock stands rigid in front of your face. It looks painfully hard and it's seeping with pre-cum. Although he is longer than the average man, it is his thickness that is truly impressive. His cock seems to be as thick as your wrist. You lick your lips and swallow your trepidation, glad that you are already dripping wet for him.
You want to taste him, but Dean's patience has run out. He needs to fuck you. Now.
"Come on, baby girl," Dean beckons. "Get on your hands and knees."
Immediately, you turn over. Your knees are on the centre of the bed and your ass is raised high for him. Dean has a pretty view of your slick pussy and he takes a second to admire your form.
Kneeling onto the bed, he rubs his hand over your lower back and over your ass. "That's a good girl. You're so ready for me. All wet and trembling for my cock."
You moan as he swats your ass. "Please, Dean. I need you so badly," you whimper.
His one hand is slowly fisting his swollen cock while his other hand continues to rub the flesh of your ass.
"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me how badly you need it."
You whine as his runs the head of his cock through your folds. "Please Dean. I need you to fuck me. I need your fucking cock."
At this request, Dean slams himself into you. You scream at the intrusion and your vision blurs for a second. Normally, Dean would ease into you, but now he's not even giving you a minute to adjust. He just pulls back and rams into you again.
"Yea, is this what you need? You need this thick cock to make you feel good?," Dean growls at you. It feels as though he's splitting you open.
You're unable to respond as it seems that Dean has fucked all the air out of your lungs. His fingers dig into your hips and he slams into you, unrelenting in his brutal pace.
You collapse onto your elbows and your face collides into the bed with your ass still high in the air. "Fuck, Dean fuck!," is all you're able to spit out.
"Yea, you like that don't you bitch? You like it rough?," Dean demands breathlessly. Your pussy twinges when he calls you "bitch" and you can feel your wetness leaking out around his cock. All you can do is let out a small grunt in response.
Dean keeps one hand on your hip, but moves the other one to your shoulder. He grabs you and pulls you up towards him, so your body is pressed up against his. Slowing his pumps, he pushes into you deeply and slams into your cervix. You let out a yelp every time he drives his cock in.
"You like that, slut?," he chuckles into your ear. "You like feeling me deep inside you?"
You moan and nod your head as he wraps his arm around you and over your chest. His other hand is still on your hip.
"Speak up, baby girl. I need to hear you say it."
"I like feeling your cock deep inside of me, Dean. I like it when you fuck me so good," you coo to him under your breath.
He smiles and kisses into your neck as he continues to pump into you deliberately.
"Yea? Then I think you'll like it when I do this," he whispers as his other hand leaves your hip and trails in between your legs. You gasp as you feel his fingers graze your clit.
Grinning, he rubs your nub in little circles and begins picking up the pace again. You're panting and reaching back to hold onto his hips, so you have some stability. Your eyes are beginning to cloud over again and your pussy his clamping down harder onto his cock.
Dean groans and pumps into you hastily while keeping up the incursion on your clit. "Your pussy is squeezing me so good, baby girl. Are you going to cum around my big cock?," he seethes into you ear.
You somehow find your voice and cry out, "Fuck, yes! You feel so fucking good. I'm going to cum, Dean. I'm going to cum on your big cock."
"Cum for me, sweetheart."
Screaming out, your pussy clamps down on his cock and you squeeze his sides ensuring that he'll have bruises tomorrow.
Before you can catch your breath, Dean pushes you down onto the bed and flips you onto your back. He grabs your hips and pounds his cock back into your pussy. His chest pushes into yours and you claw at his back. You raise your pelvis up to meet his manic thrusts.
"Fuck yea, baby! I'm gonna..," Dean groans as his onslaught falters and he spills his seed inside of you. You can feel him fill you up and spill out of you, his cum displaced by the last thrusts of his cock.
You are both heaving from exertion and slick with sweat as Dean rests his forehead against yours. His cock still throbbing deep inside of you.
Once he's caught his breathe a little, Dean rolls off of you and lays next to you on the bed. You can feel his mess pooling in between your legs and onto the sheets. However, your inebriation and exhaustion begins to hit you and you cannot bring yourself to care. You can feel yourself slipping into sleep.
Dean notices this and silently gets up. He wets a cloth from the bathroom and returns to clean you up and cool your inflamed skin. You're too out of it now to even notice. Once you're cleaned up, he quickly cleans himself off and then pulls the comforter over you.
He looks down at you despondently and shakes his head. Your face is lit up by the lamp on the nightstand and he can see the fatigue lined in your brow. He gently pushes your hair back and gives you a soft kiss on the temple.
Slipping on a pair of boxers, he grabs another beer from the mini fridge and picks up Sam's laptop. He sets himself up at the worn table and the light from the laptop gives an unnatural glow to the room.
He opens Google and types in:
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