Tomorrow
The combination of the spotlight and the smoke in the air made my eyes water, as I took a deep breath and picked up my beat-up, trusty acoustic guitar. I took a sip of the whiskey in my hand to steel my nerves before setting it down on the floor by my stool and thumbing my guitar pick out of the pocket of my jeans.
As soon as I started strumming, my stage fright started to melt away, and I started singing into the microphone.
"When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love."
A few couples got up and started swaying to the beat on the dance floor, as the bar's band joined me. I started tapping the heel of my right worn, leather boot on the rung of the stool I was sitting on. In between chords, I wrapped my guitar strap around my shoulder, and stood up, preparing for the chorus. Ben, the piano player, winked at me, and I dropped the guitar, letting it swing to my side, and I wrapped my hand around the mic and belted out the hook.
"I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue, I'd go crawlin' down the avenue. No, there's nothin' I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love." I opened my eyes, scanning the crowd, and my gaze locked on two men sitting at the bar, both watching me raptly. A blush crept up to my cheeks as I continued the song. "The storms are raging on the rollin' sea, and on the highway of regrets. The winds of change are blowing wild and free. You ain't seen nothin' like me yet."
As I finished the song, I couldn't stop looking at one of the two men at the bar. He was tall, with shoulder length brown hair, and something about him seemed oddly familiar, even if you hadn't remembered seeing him in Pat's before.
"One more time, let's give it up for our own Lacey Cooper!" Ben stood, clapping and gesturing to me as I took a modest bow. I put my guitar back in its case, grabbed my empty whiskey glass and stepped off the small stage.
I made my way over to the end of the bar, signaling Mickey, the bartender, for another drink. He came over a moment later, fresh glass in hand.
"This one's taken care of." He winked at me, tilting his head in the direction of the two flannel clad men, who were watching me earlier. "You did good tonight, kiddo. You gonna sing one of your own?"
"Nah, not tonight. All of my songs still need work. And there's not enough Walker in this place to convince me otherwise." I winked back, smiling widely.
I had been a bartender at Pat's for about four years, since I had moved to Great Bend. The owner, Mickey, heard me singing to myself one night while cleaning up, and asked me if I had ever performed before. After that he had insisted on me singing once or twice a weekend, and I had been doing covers ever since.
The long-haired guy's friend stood up, and I smiled, thinking he was coming over to say hello, but my face fell when he headed in the opposite direction, towards a table full of girls from the local community college.
I looked back over at where he was sitting, and saw the tall one looking at me again.
"That's the one," Mickey said in a low voice. "Boy can't take his eyes off you." He took a step back, grabbing a towel off of the bar. "Go get 'em, tiger."
I laughed at my boss, and drank the rest of my Johnnie Walker before stepping away, walking over to thank him for the drink.
"What a small world we live in." He smiled at me, signaling for two more drinks.
"I'm sorry?" I set my guitar case against the bar and sat down on the barstool his friend had vacated.
"Lacey, it's Sam." He looked at me, running his hand through his hair. He looked nervous.
"Sam?" The recognition slipped into place. "Sam Winchester? Oh my god, I haven't seen you since sophomore year! How are you?" I pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping my arms around his neck. He was so tall, I had to reach, even as we both sat on the barstools.
"I'm good, it's been a while. What are you doing in Great Bend? When did you move out of Wichita?" Mickey dropped off the two glasses without a word, making himself scarce.
"I've been here about four years now. What about you?"
Sam had attended school with me for about six months in tenth grade. He sat behind me in three of my classes, and we had become very close friends, until he had disappeared in March, without a trace.
"My brother and I are just passing through. We actually had some business over in Wichita." He pointed to the guy who had walked away earlier, who currently had a drunken blonde in his lap, who was giggling because she had put her pink cowboy hat on the crown of his head.
"Ah, so that's Dean." I took a sip of my whiskey, trying to hide my nerves. It was weird seeing Sam again, after all this time. You were so angry after he left, without a word. You waited for a phone call, a letter, or even an email from him, but none ever came. You eventually gave up and moved on, realizing that he didn't feel as close to you as you were to him. "What kind of business? What does Sam Winchester do to pay the bills?"
"Dean and I, we're um, contractors." He said, fidgeting a bit. "What do you do, besides well, that?" He gestured to the stage.
"I bartend here most nights. Mickey likes to put me on stage on the weekends. He says that it helps with the sales," I rolled my eyes.
"You were great, really." I looked up, blushing, and saw that he was looking at me intensely.
"Well, it's hard to go wrong with Dylan." I brushed off the compliment, awkwardly, and took another sip of the nearly empty drink. The whiskey was starting to go to my head, and I felt my cheeks heat up.
"Would you like another?" His glass was almost empty too.
"Maybe a beer. Too much of this stuff will put hair on your chest." I said, then immediately regretted it. My hand flew to my mouth, embarrassed.
He laughed, good-naturedly, and asked Mickey for two craft beers. When they were delivered, he stood up, and asked if I wanted to grab a booth, so we could catch up. I nodded, and grabbed my bottle. He offered his hand to help me stand, and I accepted it, feeling the old butterflies awaken at our touch.
We found a booth towards the back of the bar, close to the stage, where I set my guitar case down. I would probably be doing one more set before last call, anyway.
We had been chatting, awkwardly, for about thirty minutes, when his brother approached, beer bottle in hand.
"Hey Sammy, I'm gonna head out. Can you make it back to the motel okay?" His eyes met mine, and a mischievous sparkle lit up in his green eyes. "Or are you gonna be at the motel?"
"Dean, this is Lacey. She's an old friend of mine." I stuck out my hand, smiling to hide the disappointment when I heard the word friend. I thought that we had more history than that. Hell, he was my first love.
"Nice to meet you, Dean. Sam told me a lot about you, way back when." We shook hands, my tiny hand being swallowed by his.
"I'm good, Dean. I can walk back. Go have fun."
As soon as Dean walked off, Ben called me back to the stage, as I predicted, to see if I wanted to do a few more songs. I agreed and walked back over to the booth to tell Sam.
"You're not going to disappear on me again, are you?" I meant it jokingly, but was surprised by the look of guilt that washed over his face.
"No, I'm not going anywhere."
Ben and I whispered for a few seconds, trying to decide which of our regular songs we would close out the night with, and I opened my guitar case. The crowd had thinned out quite a bit, so there was only about twenty sets of eyes on me.
We rocked out to Journey, Guns N Roses, and Pink Floyd before I let the whiskey courage take over, locking eyes with the boy who had stolen my heart so many years ago, and I whispered in Ben's ear my request for the last song of the night. I told each of the band members to follow my lead. I knew they all knew the song. It was one of my favorites to belt out while sweeping the floors, but I had never performed it for the crowd.
My guitar pick hovered over the worn strings, as I hesitated. I took a deep breath, and strummed the first chords of the song.
"Tonight, you're mine, completely," I sang softly, into the microphone, eyes squeezed shut. "You give your love so sweetly." The band joined my guitar after the first few bars, and I started tapping my toes to the beat. "Tonight, the light of love is in your eyes. Will you still love me tomorrow?"
I finally gained the courage to open my eyes, losing myself in the song, and I locked my gaze with Sam's, whose expression was full of emotion.
"Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment's pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow?"
I had dropped my guitar again, letting the band take over, while I grabbed the mic with both hands, holding it close to my face and swaying to the music. I squeezed my eyes shut again, getting ready for the high notes.
"Tonight, with words unspoken, you say that I'm the only one, the only one. But will my heart be broken? When the night meets the morning sun?" I looked at Sam again, singing my heart out, hoping that he could feel me in the notes. "I'd like to know that your love is love I can be sure of. So tell me, tell me now, and I won't ask again, will you still love me tomorrow?" I repeated the last words a few more times, as the band faded out, letting me finish the song acapella.
Everyone in the bar, the few people left, all stood and cheered, and I bowed, trying to hide both the tears in my eyes and the blush creeping up in my cheeks again. I turned around, once again placing my guitar in its case, and with my back to the crowd, I wiped my eyes carefully, making sure not to smear my makeup. I turned back to the mic and Mickey gave me a signal.
"Last call everybody! Thanks for coming out!"
Grabbing my guitar case, I stepped off the stage slowly, not eager to get back to the booth. Sam was standing, his expression unreadable.
"Don't move, okay? I'm going to go close out my tab." I nodded, taking a deep breath. I was considering bolting when he returned.
"So, is there anywhere we can go to talk? I'm not ready to call it a night yet." He stood in front of me, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.
"Not really. Small town and all, everything kind of closes up early. This is the only place that stays open late." He looked down at his feet. "But you can walk me home, if you'd like. It's not far."
"Sure," he followed my lead. I waved at Mickey, telling him good night. As we were navigating toward the front door, he rested his hand on my lower back, to help me through the crowd of patrons who were trying to pay their bar tabs as well.
We stepped out into the cool October night, and I shivered as a breeze blew by. I mentally cursed for leaving my jacket at home.
"Here, it's kind of chilly out here." He shrugged off the flannel shirt he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled of the outdoors, woodsy and masculine. Wearing only a thin t-shirt underneath, I could see that his physique had changed quite a bit since I had last seen him. When we first met, he was a scrawny, awkward teenager. Now, he had muscles for days. His arms were nicely toned, without being too muscular, and the shirt hugged his chest nicely.
"Thank you," I muttered, awkwardly. I was too embarrassed to say anything, for my out-of-character behavior. I never wore my heart on my sleeve, being very guarded about my feelings, so my performance earlier had shocked me beyond belief. I blamed the whiskey.
"I can't believe you still have that thing." His gaze dropped to the scuffed guitar case in my hand.
"Why? It's special." I smiled at him. "My best friend gave it to me."
Sam had told me, when he surprised me with it, that he had worked for over a month, doing little jobs for my neighbor, old Mrs. Jenkins, to be able to afford it. I scolded him for spending so much money. The first time I played it for him, he said that it had all been worth it.
We walked in silence until we got to the walkway to my house, a modest two-story that I had inherited from my grandmother. When I needed to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city, this place had been a safe haven. After my parents died in a car accident, I decided to leave Wichita permanently, and moved in here.
We hesitated at the front gate, awkwardly waiting for someone to break the silence. Thunder rumbled close by.
"So, it was really great bumping into you," I started, wishing it hadn't come off so much like a dismissal. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be. I was so confused, what with the alcohol and the old, buried feelings from almost a decade ago resurfacing.
"Lacey, wait," he grabbed my elbow, gently. "I'm sorry for taking off, for not calling. I was an ass."
"Yeah, kind of." I raised my eyebrow at him. A few raindrops had started to fall. "What happened to you? You were just gone."
"It's complicated. Family stuff." His vague answer did little to soothe my anger that was burning a little brighter, thanks to the whiskey in my system.
Before I could reply, the sky opened up, and it started pouring down on us. I pulled open the gate, making a break for the front porch, Sam following close behind me.
"Come on in, I'll grab you a towel." I sat the guitar case and my purse on the kitchen table and left the room. Birdie, my chocolate lab, bounded off of my bed and to my side, holding her paw up for attention. I squatted down, scratching between her ears while she licked my face excitedly. Her ears perked up, when she heard Sam clear his throat, and she took off down the hallway to greet our visitor.
When I had changed into a pair of leggings and a tank top, and towel-dried my long auburn hair, I reentered the kitchen, holding out a towel to him.
"I don't have a change of clothes for you, sorry." I blushed, looking down. I couldn't meet his eyes.
"No, this is good. Thank you." As he started to pat down his arms and dry his hair, all while being bugged by the dog, I had put a kettle on for tea.
"You probably hate me, for leaving that way. I don't blame you, if you do."
My back was turned to him, as I leaned over the kitchen sink, watching the storm outside the window get progressively worse. He didn't see the tears start to well up in my eyes again.
"Angry? Maybe. But I could never hate you, Sam." I replied, quietly. "We were best friends. Hell, I thought we were more. And then you were just gone."
I jumped slightly when I heard his reply, from right behind me. He had his hands on the counter on each side of me, not touching me, but so close that I could feel his breath.
"We were," his voice sounded sad. "I hated leaving. I begged my dad to let me stay but nothing I could say would change his mind. It was time to go, so I had to."
I was still confused, not gaining any clarity from his explanations.
"So, you left. Okay. Why didn't you write, or call, or anything? You just vanished." My tears stopped, frustration outweighing my sadness, and I turned to face him, ready to push him away. But his proximity stopped me. I was looking up at him, realizing how much taller he really was, and he was staring down into my eyes intensely.
"We were constantly on the move growing up. Dean and I were raised in motel rooms, while our dad carted us around the country for his work. When he left me in Wichita, I didn't think I would be there for more than a week. I didn't expect to be there for half the year." He paused and I jumped in, a horrifying thought coming to my mind.
"Wait, you were there, alone? He just left you here? What about your brother?"
"Dean went with him. I stayed at a motel. That's why we always studied at your place." He smiled sadly.
"What kind of monster would leave a child by themselves for that long?"
"I was hardly a child. I was fifteen." He backed up a bit, and the air felt colder around me. I wrapped my arms around myself, just as the kettle started whistling.
"Tea?" He nodded, turning around to Birdie to scratch her head. After finally being acknowledged, she turned and left the room, her tail swishing contentedly.
"I thought that I was never going to see you again. After they came to get me, I fought with my dad to let me stay, for all of us to stay. It was the first time I had felt at home. But my dad's job wouldn't allow it, so we had to move on. I thought that it would be better to just cut ties, easier."
"Coward," I scoffed, handing him a coffee mug full of green tea.
"Maybe, but I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. A friend, I probably could have kept in touch with, faked a long distance friendship, been pen pals with, but you? You deserved more than that."
I was shocked by his words, and the meaning behind them. We had never actually shared with each other how we had felt, never made that first move, but I had always suspected that he felt similarly. Maybe not love, but there was something there.
"If I had just disappeared, then you could forget about me, move on with your life. Neither of us would have been haunted by the 'what ifs'."
"I could never forget about you." I lifted my own mug up between us, providing myself with a little distance from him, and his beautiful hazel eyes. "I think about you every time I pick up that damn guitar. I thought about you tonight, before I even saw you sitting at the bar." I was so close to admitting to him how much he meant to me, how much he still affected me, after all those years, but the fear of him disappearing again stilled my tongue.
"If I could go back, and change it, I would. I would do so many things differently." He set his untouched mug down on the counter and closed the gap between us, removing my tea from my hands and placing it next to his. His hands rested gently on my hips. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart was pounding. I had to keep him talking. I couldn't let him kiss me, not now, after all this time.
"Like what?"
"I would have fought like hell to stay. I would have called you every chance I got, emailed you constantly."
My eyes kept drifting to his lips, my heart obviously overruling my mind, and I was losing my sturdy resolve.
"I would have sent postcards, letters, from all over the country. I would have made you mix-tapes." He grinned a bit, leaning down towards me.
"I would have kissed you the first time we got caught in a rain storm, waiting for the school bus. I would have told you that I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I wouldn't have wasted a single minute with you." His hands had moved up to cup my face, and I knew this was it. He stood there for a moment, his eyes searching for permission.
"You're leaving tomorrow?" I asked, and his gaze fell, the spell broken. "Then all of the 'what ifs' don't matter. You can't change the past, Sam." I gently placed my hands around his wrists, pulling them away from my face. Turning away to wipe the tears from my eyes and gather my thoughts, I looked out the window again. The storm was getting worse, and you couldn't let him walk all the way back to Great Bend's one motel, three miles away.
"You're not walking anywhere in this, and I've had too much to even think about driving, so I guess we're having a sleepover." I tried to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully.
"It's okay, Lacey, really. It's just a little rain."
"Sam, as awkward as this whole thing is, I'm not letting you leave. I can drive you to the motel in the morning. Please, just say you'll stay tonight?"
"Okay, I'll stay." He turned back to his mug, sipping his tea.
"I converted my guest room into a home studio, so you can take my room. I'll sleep on the couch."
"I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house. I'll be fine down here."
"Stubborn ass, can't just let someone do something nice for you." I grumbled, half-jokingly, and turned to go grab him a blanket and spare pillows.
When I came back, he was in the kitchen, standing in front of the microwave, watching a bag of popcorn spin on the turntable, two open beer bottles sitting on the counter next to him.
"I hope you don't mind. I was hungry." I chuckled softly, grabbing one of the beers and leaned on the oven door next to him. "You don't have to wake up early, do you?"
"No, I have the day off. Why?"
"I'm just hoping that we could stay up for a bit and talk." I sighed, not looking forward to fighting off any more emotions for the evening. "I just don't want to say good night yet."
I nodded, and followed him into the living room. I knelt down to light a fire in the fireplace and joined him on the couch.
"I can throw that stuff in the dryer for you. I already dried your flannel shirt, so you can wear that while I get the rest of it."
"Sure, that'd be great." He stood up, pulling the wet, grey t-shirt off of his torso, and my mouth went dry as I watched the muscles in his back move. "I'm wearing boxers. Is that too much? I can deal with the wet jeans, if not."
"No, you're fine," I looked away, trying to control the blush creeping up in my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the warm firelight dance across his tan skin. I swallowed, audibly, and immediately covered my face with my hand, scolding myself for being the least smooth person in all of Kansas, if not the country.
"Here you go," he handed me his wet clothes, and as I turned to face him, I caught a glance of a tattoo on his chest.
"Let me go get your shirt." I all but ran from the room. Once in the laundry room, I closed the door, leaning against it and attempted to gain control of my whirlwind emotions. After grabbing the flannel shirt, which was dry and warm, I buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I was trying to memorize the smell, because I knew that once it was gone, I would miss it. Not just the smell; Sam, my long-lost best friend, the boy I had loved so much, without so much as a kiss to hold on to.
I wanted desperately to let go, to finally tell him, show him, how much I still loved him, but fear of tomorrow, (or later this morning, since it was after three a.m.) stopped me. I had never been a one night stand kind of gal, and it just didn't feel right with Sam. I knew that one night, which I could logically pass of as closure, would never be enough for me. And I wasn't sure if he could offer any more to me than that.
I threw in his jeans and shirt into the dryer drum with more force than intended and turned it on. Reentering the living room, I saw his eyes combing over one of my bookshelves. I stood there for a moment, watching him walk around in just his underwear like he belonged here, like this was home. A small smile played at my lips, while I leaned my arm against the door frame.
He turned to look at me, smiling in return.
"What is it? What's that smile for?"
"Nothing, just thinking." I walked over to him, handing over the red flannel.
"Thinking about what?" The flannel hung in his hand. He made no attempt to put it on.
"The past, mostly. How surreal this whole night has been."
"Tell me about it. I tried looking you up when we were in Wichita, but I couldn't find you."
"You did?" I had sat down on the couch, folding my legs underneath me. He joined me a second later, sitting about a foot away from me.
"I wasn't even sure if you would have wanted to see me. I guess I just wanted to see if you were okay. Maybe just see you." He looked down again, at his hands.
"Sam, you're not making this very easy on me."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but you need to know that this hasn't been easy for me either." He turned his body to the side, to face me, and grabbed my hand.
The butterflies were back, joined by a pool of warmth that was spreading through my core.
"Damn it, Sam. Will you put your shirt on? It's distracting." I looked away, taking a heavy drink of my beer. He chuckled, but obliged.
"Better?" He asked, as he was working on the last few buttons.
"Marginally." I rolled my eyes. "Everything in my head is screaming at me that this is wrong, that I should just go to bed, take you to the motel, and forget all about you." He had reached out to grab my hand again, and was softly rubbing his thumb across it.
"There's a 'but,' right?"
"Yes, there's a 'but.' Let me finish." I looked pointedly at him and he threw his free hand up innocently. "But everything else is telling me that running into you tonight was not a coincidence. It was serendipitous, seeing you again, and it's taking all of my energy to fight off the urge to kiss you, take that next step."
"Lacey, I loved you fifteen years ago, and seeing you again makes me realize that I still do. Why fight this?"
"What happens tomorrow? You'll leave with your brother, to God knows where, and when will I see you again? When will I hear from you? The only plausible scenario to come out of that would be a goodbye, and I'm just not that type of girl."
"We could figure this out, make it work. Yes, I travel a lot, but my brother and I live a few hours from here. I could come visit as much as possible."
"You sound so optimistic about that."
"Now who's the coward?"
"Excuse me?" I pulled my hand back, my temper flaring.
"You're completely content in throwing in the towel before even trying. If we try, and it doesn't work out, then at least we'll know."
"I'm not content, trust me. This is the hardest thing I've had to do in a while, and I take no pleasure in this."
"Chicken," he goaded. It was the same tone he used when he was trying to get me to sign up for the school's talent show.
"I am not a chicken." I reached over to the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and threw a few kernels at him. He deftly caught one of them in his mouth, before one hit him in the eye.
"Ouch, salt in my eye." He pulled back both hands, rubbing his right eye furiously. I felt awful.
"Here, let me see it." I scooted closer to him on the couch, and eased his hand down so I could take a look at his eye. Once my hands were on his face, he wrapped his hands around mine, holding them there, while he pulled his face close to mine.
"I would die before hurting you again, Lacey. I love you." He didn't wait for a response that time. He dipped down, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. My breath hitched, and I felt years of emotion pour into the kiss. I surprised us both by being the one to deepen it. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him while my hands twined into his long, damp hair.
I moved my lips down to his neck, using my hands to open the flannel shirt so I could touch the smooth skin on his chest. His heart was pounding under my fingertips and his breath was deep and ragged. With my legs pressed against his hips, I could feel his erection growing through the thin fabric of his boxers against my center and it drove all rational thought from my head.
I twined my fingers through his hair again, returning my lips to his as I rolled my hips, trying to get even closer to him. His hands ran up the back of my tank top and started stroking the skin on my back, over my bra. I reached down to pull the fabric off of my torso, when he gently grabbed my wrists, stopping the kiss. His expression was pained.
"Lacey, wait." I pulled back, looking into his beautiful eyes, and felt a small sting of rejection. He must have seen it in my eyes, because his lips smirked up and he kissed my nose, gently. "I want to do this right. I screwed up before, and I want to make it up to you."
"Then take off your shirt and follow me to my bedroom." I started to stand, but was pinned to him by his strong arms. I felt heat creeping up my neck and cheeks while dark thoughts raced through my mind. I couldn't remember wanting anyone as badly as I did right then.
"Trust me, I would love nothing more, but I mean it. I want to earn the right to be with you."
His words brought tears to my eyes, and I tilted my head up to kiss him again, but slowly, sweetly. I rose to my feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He wrapped his long arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug, and I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He kissed my hair before asking me which way my bedroom was located.
"To sleep," he clarified, when he saw the blush creep back into my face. "I would like to spend the night with you, holding you. If that's okay, I mean." He seemed nervous, and for a moment, I could see the awkward teenager in his face again.
"Yeah, that's cool, I guess. But you can't hog the covers." I joked, lightening the mood. If he wanted to wait, I would respect that, but I couldn't imagine crawling into bed with him, as thick as the sexual tension was, and not acting on my baser instincts. I led him to my bedroom door. "Oh, I should warn you. Birdie is a snuggler."
I woke around eleven the next morning, my legs tangled with Sam's under the quilt on my bed. My cheek was resting on his bare chest, and I was listening to his slow, steady breathing. While he was sleeping, I peeked over at the tattoo that was on his chest, just over his heart. It was a pentagram, encircled with what looked like flames. It was a strange design, one I had never seen before. I also started to notice that his smooth skin was marred with various scars that I hadn't noticed the night before.
Before I could contemplate the mystery that was Sam Winchester, he stirred, pulling me against his side with his left arm, turning his face to me and planted a kiss on my forehead.
"Morning," he muttered, sleep still heavy in his voice.
"Good morning." I lifted up to place a kiss on his lips before crawling out from under the covers. "I have to take Birdie for a walk. She hasn't gone outside since last night." I pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail and headed out.
When I returned, Sam was dressed and standing in front of the coffee pot, waiting for the drip to cease. Two mugs had been laid out on the counter. Seeing him clothed made my heart sink. I was reminded that he was leaving. I hung the leash up on the nail on the wall, stroking her back as she walked over to her water bowl, and plastered on a brave face.
"Dean called. We've got to hit the road soon."
"Right, yeah, of course." I crossed my arms across my chest, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. "I'll drive you to the motel."
As if he could feel me pulling away, he crossed the room, wrapping me in his arms.
"I meant everything I said last night." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I will do everything I can to make this work, I promise." He placed a chaste kiss on my lips, and I took a deep breath.
We climbed into my old pickup, Birdie whining because she couldn't come along, and he grabbed my hand from across the bench seat. The quick drive downtown was quiet, and before I was ready, I was pulling up next to a gorgeous black Impala, Dean leaning against the trunk.
"Nice car," I whistled. I'd give my right arm to sit behind the wheel of that beauty.
I threw the gear shift into park, and climbed out of the cab.
"Hey Dean," I waved, sheepishly.
"Morning, uh, sweetheart." I chuckled, and reminded him of my name. He blushed.
"Come on, Sammy, Jody called. We've got to get goin'."
He stepped out of the truck too, looking at me sadly.
"I'll call you, every day, scout's honor." He held up his fingers in a salute.
"I'll bet you fifty bucks that you were never a boy scout." I scoffed. He smiled and grabbed my hands.
"Well, I owe you dinner then, and dessert." He put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my face to his and kissed me, passionately. I heard Dean clear his throat behind him, and he cursed under his breath.
Before he pulled away, he mouthed the words "I love you," to me.
I watched the car drive off until I could no longer see the tail lights on the main road.
Once I climbed back into my truck, I looked at the screen of my cell phone. I had one new text message from Sam, with a heart emoji after it. He must have programmed it while I was out walking the dog.
"Miss you already." I smiled to myself, tears springing up in my eyes.
"Miss you too."
A/N: The songs mentioned below do not belong to me. The first is To Make You Feel My Love, written by the great Bob Dylan, and the second is Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, recorded by many amazing artists, including Amy Wineheart. I also do not own anyone from the SPN universe. I am currently chewing on a possible plot and might be updating soon with a second chapter. Thank you to those who have already read. Let me know if you'd like to see this continue. Stay tuned!