Set in season two before Teach me Tonight. The title and the song quoted is by Andrew Bird.
I don't own anything.
My dewy-eyed Disney bride, what has tried swapping your blood with formaldehyde?
I like long walks and sci-fi movies,
if you're six foot tall and east coast bred some lonely night we can get together.
And I'm gonna tie your wrists with leather and drill a tiny hole into your head
He watched her. From his spot at the counter he dragged a cloth over its surface. It had been cleaned not ten minutes before, but he knew she'd know he wasn't really reading if he held a book in front of his face.
So he pretended to clean. And he watched. And listened. And wanted.
He wanted her.
Her bright blue eyes were glazed over and she was nodding along with what he was droning on about.
She was bored. Completely and utterly bored. She claimed they talked about everything, and maybe they did. But she clearly didn't find it interesting.
A customer indicated that they wanted a refill, so he grabbed the coffee pot and moved past her to reach the table.
She looked up and locked eyes with him, smiling a small 'hello'.
He returned it with a smirk and mimed a gun pointed at his head with his free hand.
She glared. And focused her attentions back on her boyfriend.
He returned to the counter, returned to cleaning, returned to his solemn watch over her, and as he did he heard her boyfriend mentioned the word 'battlestar'.
Yeah, they had loads in common.
Maybe it was because he was tall, and polite and that her mother liked him.
He watched as he toyed with the bracelet on her wrist, and thought back to when the same item had resided in his pocket for two weeks.
He noticed her glance down at her wrist, at his wandering hand, at her bracelet. Her shackle.
She looked up and nodded once at her boyfriend, who then stood and pulled out her chair.
He scoffed at the act of chivalry, but turned it into a obviously fake cough when they turned to look at him.
Her boyfriend took her hand, and she willingly followed.
The girl who read The Fountainhead at age ten was not a follower.
He caught her glance back at him through the diner window.
And he knew she was trapped.
Dean had bound her wrist and now she was his.
She had to play along, playing the lovestruck teen.
She wanted out, but didn't know how she would do it.
Too scared to let go. Too scared to be free. Too scared of the unknown.
But Jess knew she would have to break free on her own.
He couldn't, wouldn't, ask her to leave him.
He could, and did, taunt, tease and flirt, making sure she knew she had options. That Dean wasn't right.
And he knew she was close to running.
He'd done all he could. It was only a matter of time.
So when his uncle told him a few days later that she would be tutoring him, he didn't protest it.
Maybe he could do a little more.
Please read and review. I dunno if I actually like this, but, meh, it was a distraction in work!