TITLE: Memory Blue
Picture Prompt: BLUE DRESS
Prompt words: "flow" and "beauty"
Author's Note: This story was written for a Prompt Challenge using pictures. I thought it was pretty cool, I picked one, and this is what came out of it. It was meant to be more angsty, but then it wouldn't write for the life of me. In the end, I think my muse was tired of angst. It just wanted to showcase a relationship for little while. So, I took the snapshot and placed context around it. Hope y'all like.
Summary: "Well, Rambo, are you just gonna stand there and stare all day or what?" Dean remembers the first time he met Cassie.
MEMORY BLUE
Dean Winchester rolled down the windows of the Impala and breathed in the warm summer breeze that blew into the car. His fingers drummed lazily on the steering wheel in time to Blind Faith's Can't Find My Way Home.
He tossed a glance over towards his brother. Sam was sprawled uncomfortably on the passenger side of the car. His was head plastered between the car door and the head rest of the car's passenger seat; his long legs were stretched diagonally across the space between the two of them, almost encroaching over towards Dean's side of the car.
Sam let out a little snore, and Dean laughed quietly to himself.
It felt good to have his baby brother snoring next to him in the car as he drove along the interstates. It felt good to know that Sam was still part of this world.
The wind whipped at his hair, caressing it like a lover's fingers. Dean smirked at the thought. It'd been a while since any kind of caressing had happened to him. Maybe it was high-time he got some nookie. It wasn't everyday that a guy risked his life to save the world—he ought to be rewarded for it.
He refused to acknowledge the tiny cloud of darkness that hovered just beyond his consciousness. It was a cloud that hung around boldly reminding him that he had already signed his life away in exchange for his brother's. The cloud that said he didn't have much time left in the world.
Dean wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips. He caught sight of his reflection in the rearview mirror and he grimaced. Well, if he didn't have much time left in this world, he better damn well make the rest of it worth living.
Starting with all that caressing.
His grimace turned into a Cheshire cat grin. Yeah, that sounded good. He revved up the car's engine, eager to hit the next town. His eyes scanned for signs to tell him where the next decent town would be.
Then he saw it: Cape Girardeau.
67 miles.
Dean's throat went dry. He'd almost forgotten that they'd crossed Missouri state lines a few hours back. He'd made himself not dwell on the matter. He took a deep breath to ease the constriction in his chest as memories assaulted him.
Damn.
It was the blue dress that got him.
Dean twisted the cap on his gas tank until he heard the small click. Then he wiped his hands on his jeans, not really caring that he'd be smelling like gasoline for a while. Hell, he already smelled like leather and grease, anyway. It wasn't like the scent of gasoline was gonna take away from his appeal.
He snorted at the thought.
He was about to get into the Impala when his stomach growled in protest. He sighed, cursing his metabolism. His appetite was really draining his cash flow. He'd need to sign up for a new credit card soon, before someone caught on to his trail with the current one he was using.
His stomach growled again, and he sighed in resignation as he reached into his back pocket. It wouldn't hurt to get something that'd tide him over till tomorrow morning. He pulled out his wallet and headed for the Quik-E Mart.
It was dusk, and getting pretty chilly. Winter had rolled in early that year, and it'd made life on the road just a little bit harder. It wasn't like the backseat of the Impala was the warmest place to sleep in during winter.
Just as he was about to push the glass doors open, he heard a small, muffled thud coming from the side of the tiny convenience store. He paused mid-step. Years of training had all his senses on alert.
Without any qualms, he replaced his wallet back into his pants pocket, and instead reached back into the waistband of his jeans. His gun was tucked safely away under his shirt and jacket, and his hand reached back to palm it comfortably.
He stalked towards to back of the Quik-E Mart, his footsteps light and stealthy, his hand still on his gun.
And then, he saw the blue dress.
Well, in all honesty, he saw her in the blue dress.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam's groggy voice broke through his reverie.
"Yeah?"
"Why're we stopped on the side of the road?"
Dean smiled tightly at his brother. "Got a cramp," he lied quickly.
Sam shrugged. "Want me to drive?"
"No."
Sam's brow shot up skeptically. "Oh-kay," he drawled, and stretched his long body as much as he could in his seat. "So…are we going yet or are we going yet?"
Dean threw Sam a look of irritation, then purposely turned up the music and gunned the engine a few times before hitting the road again.
The dress was girly. Well, of course it was girly. What the hell kind of dress wouldn't be girly? But the girl in the dress…
Dean literally paused in mid-step, feeling like if he made too much noise, she might fly away.
She had dark, curly hair. Dean had never been one for dark, curly hair. But on her, it just looked right. It looked perfect.
She had full lips. The pouty kind…probably put to best use now, cuz she was pouting. Her lips were the kind he could literally trace the edges of with his finger. It was exactly what he would do just before he kissed her. Yeah, those lips were made for kissing, all right. And more.
Her eyes were closed, but she had long lashes. He never noticed any girl's lashes before. After all, it wasn't like they were especially useful or anything. But for some reason, he noticed the way those lashes just touched her dusky skin.
Her face was uplifted and she had a little crinkle in between her eyes. She had her hands on her hips. She was counting out loud slowly and taking deep even breaths.
The kind of deep even breaths that had her breasts rising and falling…rising and falling…almost popping out of that blue dress. Dean felt a smirk creep onto his face at the thought.
She had caramel skin. Not really dark, but not pale, either. It looked nice in the falling dusk. He wanted to taste her skin, starting with her bare shoulders and collarbone. His eyes went from there to the valley between her breasts, just before the rest was covered by the blue dress.
That blue dress, in Dean's mind, was like a tease. It was a curious blue. He'd never been one for poetic words and stuff, but it had to be like ocean blue or something. And it had that kind of flow to it. Real tight on top—a very good thing, as far as he was concerned—and flowy at the bottom. It shimmered in that way girls liked. On this particular girl, he liked the way it shimmered, too. The dress exposed as well as hid. A real tease, all right.
She hadn't seen him yet. His knees and thighs were getting cramped because of how hard it was to keep himself so still when all his senses were telling him to make a move. He had to fight the urge to either run away from her, or run towards her. Either way, standing still, was getting real hard.
She opened her eyes, and he saw that they were a light brown. Kind of a good match for her skin.
All in all, she had a beauty that wasn't really conventional. Wasn't even really Dean's type. But she was still beautiful, in an exotic, vibrant way.
He grimaced at the thought and wondered if he was a little more like Sam after all. He'd gotten a voicemail from a drunken Sam last year. The kid had gone on and on about some Jessica chick. He'd called her "Amazonian" and "enchanting" all in one sentence. But that was Sam. Not him.
But for once, he understood the need to describe someone as more than just beautiful.
The girl in the blue dress sighed heavily and regarded her car in irritation. That was when Dean noticed that she had tools spread out on the dirt. Her car had a flat tire.
Damsel in distress alarm bells instantly went off in Dean's head. He was about to offer her a hand, prepared to be all gallant, when she turned to him and beat him to the punch.
"Well, Rambo, are you just gonna stand there and stare all day or what?"
Sam had been awake for about six minutes when he suddenly realized that the scenery looked vaguely familiar. His eyes scanned the farms that they passed by, the occasional side roads, hell, he even looked at the trees carefully.
Yep. Everything was familiar all right.
"Dean?" he prompted, looking sideways at his brother. "Are we where I think we are?"
"Depends on where you think we are."
He tried to catch his brother's eye to give him a meaningful look, but Dean was intent on ignoring him. He kept his eyes glued on the road ahead. Sam sighed. "Did she call you again?" he asked softly.
Dean was looking distant and just a bit grim. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I don't know who you're talking about," he muttered.
"Dean."
His brother sighed. "No. She didn't."
"So…we're just passing through?"
"That's the plan."
"We can stop for the night or…for a while, y'know," he said tentatively. He watched Dean's profile carefully. His brother swallowed heavily and pursed his lips. Unspoken between them was the idea that Dean's time was finite.
Suddenly, Dean's face relaxed, but with a look of resignation. "No, we can't."
"So," she drawled, an eyebrow raised, one hand on her hip. Her eyes went up and down, taking him all in. Dean had to resist the urge to stand straighter and puff his chest out.
Instead, he copied her expression, but put both his hands on his lean hips. "So."
"Aren't you gonna help me?" she demanded.
"I didn't hear you ask," he replied easily.
A quick look of disbelief passed over her face before she grinned widely. She had straight white teeth over a crooked smile. "Fine." Then, before Dean knew it, she had gathered her dress in her hands, hiked the skirts up, and squatted down next to the flattened tire. "It's not as though I actually need you."
Dean blinked in surprise. She was stubborn. And she had a fine pair of legs on her. Dean was pretty pleased with the fact that she was all dressed up, but she wasn't wearing nylons. He just thought those things were a nuisance. Real hot women didn't need nylons.
He leaned against the side of the Quik-E Mart, arms crossed over his chest. His hunger was completely forgotten as he watched her attempt to loosen the lug nuts. He was sure she could have done it if she'd been wearing anything else but that pretty blue dress. As it was, she was busy keeping the dress clean and focusing on the task at hand.
She was failing miserably at both.
His footsteps crunched on the ground as he loomed behind her bent figure.
"You better not be some kind of pervert, because I swear I got the lungs of an opera singer," she muttered. "And a black belt in judo."
He raised his hands up in surrender, a mock look of innocence on his face. "Hey, I was coming over to help, but you know what, I've changed my mind. You hurt my feelings."
He started to turn away, but a wrench landed next to his feet with a heavy thud. She stood up with a small growl, her face sullen and dark. "Okay, you win!"
"I always win."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know, I'm beginning to dislike you very much. If I didn't need to be at my father's banquet, I would never have given you the time of day."
"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." He drawled, bending over to pick up the wrench she had tossed on the ground. "I don't do girls like you."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
He shrugged and didn't answer her. He moved closer towards her, and when she didn't move, he gave her a look. "You're blocking the tire."
She looked appropriately embarrassed, and skittered away a few steps. They were quiet for a few moments, as Dean worked on loosening the lug nuts. Then he leaned down on the ground and put the jack in place. All the while, the girl in the blue dress watched him.
He should have felt self-conscious, but he realized he liked her watching him. She was frowning, but she definitely looked interested.
"So, why not me?" she demanded, breaking the silence between them. Dean was pumping the jack to raise the car. He paused and threw her a sideways glance. "I didn't say you. I said, girls like you."
She made a face at him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Ugh! I don't need these mind games from you. Hell, I don't need you." She declared.
Dean was finding her more and more amusing. He looked at her hotly, his smile downright predatory. She flushed, all the way down to the tops of her breasts. His smile widened as he went round back to grab the spare tire.
"Honey, I think I may just be everything you never thought you needed," he drawled with an enigmatic smile.
She frowned. Then her eyes went to her trunk, and she groaned. She had no spare tire.
Dean clapped his hands together then wiped them on his jeans. "Well, I guess my job here is done."
"You're just gonna leave me here?" her voice was dry and deadpanned, her eyes pointed and angry.
He started to turn and walk away. "Hey, you said you didn't need me…and I might be a pervert."
She was quiet, a mutinous expression on her face.
Dean started walking away, back around the corner and towards his car which was still parked in front of one of the gas pumps.
"Hey…You!" she cried, scrambling after him.
He turned slowly and smile on his face. "The name's Dean."
"Dean." She said repeating his name like she was tasting it. Then she sighed and extended her hand towards him. "I'm Cassie."
"Are we gonna go and see her?" asked Sam, as the Impala slowed to follow the city speed limits.
"Cassie's not here, anymore, Sam," he sighed heavily. "I got a voicemail from her a couple months back. She got married and moved away."
"Oh."
The was a familiar pang in Dean's chest. It was old now, kind of a hollow pain. It was filled with regret and things he knew could never be. At least, she'd found what she'd always needed. It had been everything he could never have given her.
He felt like he was driving through the past. He let his eyes wander over the town, seeing ghosts of the people he used to know walking around. He saw the ghost of himself and of Cassie, too. He saw those few months of holding hands, laughing, fighting, and making out with her.
"So…what's the point in passing through, then?"
Dean shrugged. "Just memories, Sam. Good memories." He grinned as he passed by an old gas station and a run-down Quik-E Mart. His mind was flying through memories, and for once, he didn't actually mind remembering her.
The knowledge that he had an expiration date suddenly made him realize that when all was said and done, he could actually say that he had been happy. Even for a little while.
The End.
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