The Convergence Creation Week 2017.
Day 1 - Beginnings.
This world is extremely quiet.
Obviously, if you take it in all together, every inch and second of its destructive, chaotic existence, 'quiet' wouldn't be a word to describe it at all. But he's not thinking about all of that at the moment. He's just thinking about the 'now moment.' Some early hour in the morning, with a moon's white light slipping through the cracks in the blinds. The dead are back, there are a few insects and other noises that he doesn't recognize; but other than that, it's quiet.
For someone who enjoys that aesthetic so much, Derek isn't very familiar with it. It doesn't lull him to sleep as it seems to do to the woman in the bed next to him, her expression serene, her body still. She's tangled in sheets and pillows, and her brown hair is scattered everywhere, in a cloud about her head. The white moonlight is streaking over her entire frame, and the quiet seems to emanate from her, from the presence of calm she produces.
She is, in an obvious fact, beautiful.
Derek isn't very familiar with that either.
Or at least, hasn't been; not for the past few years.
So far, everything that Jenna Winters has shown, and offered, and introduced, has been quiet and beautiful and new. And it's like a current, that wants to pull him into its cool, refreshing existance. It could cleanse him, it could drown him; he doesn't know which is the truth. So, it makes sense in his mind, not to fight it in case it's a rip tide, and just let it take him; but also keep one hand on his tether line to shore. Not submerge all the way. Even if he wants to.
There are times, like right now, that he really wants to.
And he doesn't know why.
It's almost a bit disconcerting. The way she's like a magnet. The way all she needs to do is tap on his surface and it feels like the walls crack; cracks which branch out like a spider web and threaten to tear the whole thing down. The more he thinks about it, the more it is disconcerting. The way she seems to be able to change him; take his mind off what needs to be done, or what he can be planning to do the next day, so that he can linger for hours on a single kiss in her kitchen. Or an evening together, just because her friend somehow nudged them to do it. Make him forget his old ways, stop his wonderings on the world (like, in a place where the dead have a second chance, why he is here and not his brother), and just halt everything, freeze it in time. In the Now Moment. Where its quiet. And it's beautiful. New and unfamiliar. Where he doesn't want to leave.
Part of him, the one part holding onto the tether, continues to tell him to stay on guard. Slow down, its moving far too fast. Step back, stay away, fix up those cracks in the walls and carry on like a proper soldier: careful and cautious and absolutely no straying chances. And to his mind it makes sense, to do just that. If everything continues at the speed it is, into territory he hasn't entered before, didn't expect to ever enter, would it not be wiser to pull out, think things over, and then proceed with a clear head?
She stirs now, and suddenly he freezes. Hadn't realized that as he'd laid there on his side, watching her, that his fingers had just been drifting. Up her arms, or playing with the sheets. He must've poked her a bit too hard this time before he hears a soft hum, and he holds his breath.
Dark eyes open, the heart of that magnetic current. They are sleepy and deep and they blink at him a few minutes, before she exhales softly, offering a half-smile. "You ok?"
He stares back into those eyes a few minutes. Striking and surrounding. New… but not entirely. After all, it's been read that he wasn't very familiar with any of this; it didn't mean every single aspect of it was new. He doubted he would have ever met her again for a run if she had been unexplored territory of the most foreign kind. He doesn't know what it is that keeps him from being scared off entirely, what's in those eyes that is familiar enough to make him believe that maybe – possibly, a chance, a risk – that he could be safe there. (Maybe someday he would see it is sadness, a mirror of his own, and make it his home).
For now, he just gazes back at her; and then swallows, giving a nod of the head. His foot shifts on the mattress, rubs against her ankle. He feels chills up his spine when she suddenly rubs his calf with it, her smile growing just a bit.
"Yeah," he answers, before it takes too long. "Yeah, 'm fine."
And then, the current gives a particularly hard tug; and he finds himself leaning forward, dipping down. Finds his lips meeting her's in a soft, gentle kiss, as his eyes close, and his heart flutters, and his head spins. His grip on the tether weakens ever so slightly; and maybe what's even more frightening, is in that moment, he doesn't care.
Four months later and there's an infant in Jenna's arms. A baby boy with her beautiful brown eyes. He's released the tether, that ended up being a chain; accepted the current, because apparently, he'd already been drowning – and she had just pulled him to shore. Where there is a family, a girlfriend and a son, godchildren, and possible friends.
At this moment, the world is extremely quiet.
Obviously, if you take it in all together, every centimeter and minute of its disparaging, chaotic existence, 'quiet' wouldn't be a word to describe it at all. But he's not thinking about any of that at the moment. He's just thinking about the 'now moment.' Some hour in the evening, with a baby being placed into his arms. Jenna is murmuring about how small he is, and he's agreeing; small but perfect.
And the proper soldier is also quiet; the human part bringing a smile to his face.
It's time to start something new, and trust the magic of beginnings.
Disclaimer: Jenna Winters is a Supernatural OC played by Liza.