Title: Crossing the Channel
Fandom: Pan Am
Author: Alidiabin
Icon: dizzyknee
Words: 463.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings/ Spoilers/Rating: up to 1x08 | PG.
Parings: Dean/Colette.
Summary: Colette asks Dean an important question.
Crossing the Channel
Dean lazily opened his eyes as the sun streamed through the windows of a hotel room. The bed next to him felt warm and smelt familiar. The door of the en suite bathroom as open, he heard running water.
"Afternoon," a sultry French voice whispered into his ear. Colette.
The night before came back to him in fragments. He and Colette had finally given into the feelings that had been brewing. The night had been fuelled by a little too much to drink and the intoxication of another foreign city.
"Afternoon?" he replied as Colette came into view. Damn jetlag, he thought, despite all the flying he did, jetlag still hit him. He smiled as she crept back into bed, pulling the covers over her.
"Yes," she whispered as she checked the clock on her bedside table, it was .305 pm, one might even call it late afternoon. "So how does it feel?"
"How does what feel?" Dean asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Her sweet yet exotic scent filled his nostrils. She even smelt beautiful.
"Crossing the channel," Colette replied as moved into his embrace.
It took Dean a few seconds to register what she was saying. For a second he thought about Bridget. Then he realised what this was about. Bridgette. She always would be a part of it all. A lingering ghost. While it felt to right to have Colette next to him, it also felt a little wrong. Maybe, over time the ghost would fade.
"I am French, Bridget was English there is the English Channel between us," Colette unnecessarily elaborated.
She wanted to know, that she was more than just a conquest. That she was not the rebound girl. She wanted to be more than just a notch on the bed post of some pilot. She had been that woman too often. She wanted more. She deserved more. She needed more.
Dean reached over to stroke her face. He pushed a stray hair from her cheek.
"It's different," he finally said, "but I like the difference. But I still can't get used to French driving," Colette let out a tiny giggle remembering their driving lessons.
"I am a better flier than I am a driver," Colette replied with a smirk. Dean ran his hand up her back.
"I can think of one thing you are even better at," he whispered as he moved his lips toward hers. Their lips crashed like a wave hitting a cliff. The kiss softened and deepened. His hands ran up and down her body, making use of the fact neither had replaced their clothing from the night before.
Instead of exploring the city they had landed in, they spent rest of the afternoon and the following evening exploring each other.
A/N: First Pan Am fic, reviews welcome and appreciated.