Crave
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
"[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]" by E.E. Cummings
Dean steps through the hall, looking for someone. His brain can't quite grasp who it is but he keeps looking anyway. Surely he'll know when he sees them. So he keeps searching. He's barefoot, soles chilled by the frigid wood. The floors of their old house creak much louder under his feet than he remembers.
I must be looking for Sam, he thinks.
He moves swiftly towards Sam's bedroom door, that damn shoji one that catches whenever you slide it open. He remembers when Sam had installed it back when they were teenagers. He wanted to change everything about this house, make it new and fresh, but their father liked it the way it was. The door and his room were the only things Sam was free to change.
Dean stops in front of the door, finding a light shining from behind it. Sam's shadow stands there behind the paper screen, facing Dean silently. Facelessly.
When they were younger Sam would always trap himself behind that door. When he studied for school. When Dad was angry and shouted himself hoarse. When there was drunken mess in the living room because there was nowhere for the shouts to land and Dean was left to clean it. Even when their father left them alone Sam remained in his room, as if even Dean wasn't a good enough reason to come out of hiding.
But Dean was happy to shield his brother from the darkness whenever necessary. If Sammy didn't get buried too deep into the dirt then someday, maybe, he could get out and fly away.
Dean reaches a hand out to the door to get to him-
Not me, Sam's voice tells him abruptly, making Dean jump. It sounds airy as it passes through the thin paper separating them. Her, he told Dean. You're looking for her.
No, Dean says, I'm looking for you.
I'm always looking for you. But you always leave and take half of my heart with you.
Sam tsks and says, Not this time. You're looking for her.
Elena.
Dean's mind immediately speaks the name as if it had been desperately grasping it all this time, waiting to let it free. Dean looks up at his brother, wondering how Sam would feel about Dean thinking about his fiance. Though he's only a shadow behind a door, Dean studies him anyway, as if he'd find an answer in the darkness.
He's relieved Sam can't see him. To see how his lies have surfaced on his face.
Who? he asks Sam. I don't know who you mean.
At that Sam laughs loudly, making Dean feel as if his eyes really could see through the door. Through him.
You're a liar, says Sam with a smirk in his voice. You've known for a long time. Go to her before it's too late.
Heat rises to Dean's cheeks as he asks, Where?
You know where, Dean.
With you? Dean guesses, moving to slide the door open.
No. Stop lying, Dean. Just stop, Sam says firmly. Angrily. Then he repeats, You know where she is.
Outside.
Dean backs away from Sam's room, feet bringing him to the front door. There's a harsh beating in his chest as panic courses through his blood. He'd wasted so much time lying and denying. He reaches the front door, dread crushing his insides because he already knows what's coming. What he's about to see. He wrenches the door open, letting in an arctic cold, and he faces a blinding white snow-
The sound of vomit hitting the toilet bowl jolts Dean awake. It's still dark, but a bright sliver of light shines on him from the hallway bathroom. Squinting at it, he makes out a hunched figure.
"I should've went with you," says Elena's voice from somewhere further into the bathroom. Her low tone sets butterflies flying into his stomach. He inhales deeply, steadying himself as he sits up from the couch. That sensation of dread still sits in his chest.
In the bathroom, the hunched figure groans in annoyance but makes no attempt to form words.
"You could've at least brought Cas with you," she goes on.
"He's at work." The figure's voice croaks out, "And I don't need a chaperone."
"Clearly you do. You know how you get."
Kai merely grunts as Dean gets out of bed, warily making his way to the bathroom. "You guys okay?"
The sick smell reaches his nose as soon as he pushes the door open and steps into the light. Kai is bent uneasily over the toilet with Elena standing next to him.
Elena looks up to meet Dean's eyes and his stomach performs a flip. Her presence had always made him a bit nervous but last week's visit to his garage hadn't helped in the slightest. Nor does the recurring dream that comes to him in the night. For years Dean had been running, sprinting really, from his long gone family, from his relationship with Sam, from everything behind him - but there's a quiet reflective quality in her eyes that always sends him stumbling. Always reminding him.
You know where she is.
Her mouth is in a small frown now, but all the anger that her jaw once held for him has evaporated. In fact-
Is she relieved to see me?
"Kai just got home," she says, before he can contemplate her more. She has a habit of doing that, he'd noticed. Stopping people before they can look too closely.
Dean glances at the clock on the wall in the living room. 3:45. He turns back to Elena, whose gaze had moved back to Kai, worried, as she places a hand on his back. "I'm taking you to the emergency room."
Kai, almost as pale as the snow outside, shakes his head silently, still bent over the toilet. Elena purses her lips and looks at Dean, "Alcohol poisoning. I need to take him to the hospital." After a minute hesitation, she asks, "Could you drive us? I need to sit with him in the back to make sure he doesn't choke."
He nods quickly, "Of course." If we're going to make an effort to be friends, now is as good a time as any.
She gives him a grateful smile that lasts all of a split second before she turns away and tugs at Kai's weak form. He struggles to rise from his knees and Dean rushes forward to help. After a pathetic attempt to resist, Kai falls into his arms.
"Everything's fine," Cas says for the third time. "He's okay. I promise."
She glances at Kai, who had fallen asleep soundly as soon as he'd been hooked up to fluids. Seeing him there in the hospital bed spooks her. It's a sight that triggers a deeply rooted fear in her no matter what Cas says. Her fear is so pronounced that she has to cross her arms to hide how badly she's shaking. She can feel Dean standing behind her, listening as she and Cas argue.
"He keeps doing this to himself, Cas," she says, passing a hand over her tired face. "If he goes on like this I don't know if his body can take it."
Cas releases a heavy sigh, his blue eyes sparkling sadly. "I know. We just have to keep an eye on him."
"How?" she asks a bit sharply. "We're not his parents, we can't ground him."
Cas shakes his head, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pristine lab coat. "He's just grieving. We have to take care of him and give him time. He'll be back to normal eventually."
NormaI? Elena scoffs. There is no normal after loss.
"Look," Cas continues, sensing her line of thought, "I know this is a sensitive topic for you but-"
She grimaces, "Don't."
"-you can't expect people to be as used to grieving as you are."
She glares at him, and to his credit, he doesn't show an ounce of pity though this does little to lessen her irritation. She feels Dean's eyes on her back and suddenly it's as if she's contained in the tiny hospital room. Contained and alone behind a glass while people study her.
"What are you trying to say?" she says flatly.
He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "You know what I mean, Elena. You've been through this a thousand times. You know how to handle yourself. But Kai isn't so experienced."
A thousand times. He makes grief sound like riding a bike. When you've done it once you can do it again. And again and again.
Several replies die in her throat. Concerned at her silence, Cas takes a step closer to her. "Elena-"
"It's late. We should go," Dean says abruptly.
Elena turns to find Dean standing at the foot of Kai's bed with a clenched jaw. Stiff fingers tap at the bed's footboard as his eyes flick from Cas' face to Elena's.
"We can't leave him," Elena says, gesturing to Kai's sleeping figure.
"Cas'll take care of him." Dean's eyes move back to Cas, this time holding a hint of agitation in them. She looks from Dean to Cas, who stares back at Dean with lowered brows. The energy in the room begins to suffocate her, so she huffs.
"Fine," she says, looking at Dean. "Take me home."
She crosses her arms, hugging herself as she and Dean walk wordlessly back to his car, their feet tapping against the parking lot pavement. Rock salt crunches beneath her boots and the moon glows above them. Dean tucks his hands into his pockets and faint clouds rise from the heat of his mouth as he breathes.
When they're settled inside the car, Elena clears her throat. "Thanks for driving."
"It's no problem," Dean says, then smiles awkwardly. "But if he'd puked inside my car it'd be a different story."
She laughs. It's strained but she hopes it comes off as tired. She grapples for a subject to talk about as he pulls out of the hospital parking lot. It's then that she realizes that all she has to go on are a scorned brother's words and a single memory of when she met him last year. But she doesn't want to remember any of that.
"So Dean," she says, her voice sounding a little too bright. "That girl the other night. Was she your girlfriend?"
Dean shifts a little in his seat, eyes trained ahead of him. "Uh, no I met her at a bar."
"Oh." Elena nods, a small smile pulling at her lips. "How'd you do it?"
A nervous energy sparks in him as he turns for a quick glance at her. "Do what?"
She smirks, "Pick her up?"
Elena stares at his face, finding a mix of both surprise and discomfort. He gives her another guarded look before bringing his attention back to the road. "I talked to her."
She rolls her eyes. "About what?"
"I don't know, the weather."
She lets that sink in for a full second, then snorts. "Wow."
"Wow what?"
"All you have to do is talk to her about the weather and she gives you full access?" Elena can't help it. She lets out a crude laugh. The sound tilts the corner of Dean's mouth upward and loosens the tightness in his shoulders.
"There was more to it than that," he says defensively. "I made some jokes." This only makes her laugh harder. "What? Why are you laughing? I was charming as hell, okay?"
She shakes her head, still laughing. "Spoken like a guy who's never had to work to get a girl in his life."
"Oh come on, that's not fair. It takes a lot of practice to get to this level-"
"You're killing me," she says with a pointed look.
He flashes a smile in her direction and her heart comes to a full stop. She's never seen him look that way before, let alone have it directed at her. The fact that he hadn't had cause to smile at all recently saddens her.
"Okay, fine." Dean says, oblivious to the clenching in her chest. "Tell me how you and Sam met. What kind of elaborate maneuvers did he use to get you to go out with him?"
"It was at the library. Cas was friends with both of us, so he brought us together to study."
Dean snorts, "That can't be it." He meets her look of confusion with one of disbelief. "You met Sam studying ?"
She blushes. "What's so weird about that?"
He shakes his head. "It's just hard to believe that is the meeting that launched all the romantic crap Sam spewed for years."
"What do you mean?" Elena asks, straightening.
He gives her a wary smile. "Even when Sam and I weren't talking to each other I heard all about you." He pauses, considering his next words. "We have mutual friends, like Cas, who'd mention you a lot." His voice falters a little, almost sadly, before he flashes a smirk. "Once while Cas wasn't in the room I saw a text Sam sent him. ' Which of these poems do you think Elena would like better? '"
She giggles. "I remember that. He was so nervous right before he gave it to me."
"Which one did he decide on?"
She pauses. "I don't remember."
His eyes study her for a moment, then turn back on the road. "It's okay," he says. "You can tell me."
She winces, opens her mouth, then closes it again. She hates that about him. The way he can untangle her lies more easily than she can his.
But eventually she sighs, "' I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go you go, my dear ,' and so on. Do you know it?"
Dean's shakes his head. "It's a bit heavy for what, a few weeks of dating?"
Elena shrugs. "You know when you know."
He makes a sour face that even she can see from the other side of the dark car.
She shifts so she can face him fully, read him as he's reading her. "You think it's bullshit."
"I think a lot of things are bullshit."
"But you think love is especially bullshit."
He looks thoughtful for a moment before saying, "I think people think they know when they know. But all they really know is how good it feels in the moment. Feelings pass."
Her eyebrows lower. "Not always."
He nods, an annoying, arrogant smile on his lips. "Always. Or they last long enough to turn into something else."
There. Something that doesn't taste like a lie or a watered down truth. He truly believes it.
"Just because they pass doesn't mean they're any less real," she can't help but argue, craving the high she gets from nudging at him. Making him spit out the truth.
He turns the car onto their street before shooting her a perplexed look. But she swears she sees the corner of his mouth twitch up.
"What?'" she demands.
"Nothing," he says, amusement bleeding into his voice. "You're just . . . not how I remembered you."
She pauses to consider him again. He really is very different from Sam, who had an optimism so potent that even Elena grew weary of it. But at the same time it kept her sane, especially when she started losing people. Now that bright light is gone, and she and Dean are two flies still buzzing around in the dark looking for it.
Just as they pull in next to the house, a faint burst of orange spreads from the horizon. They'd arrived just in time to see the sun come up. The car idles and they remain still, looking out at the sun, savoring the precious few moments of darkness before the light bears down on them.
Elena sighs, dreading the suffocating feeling that would return to her as soon as she steps foot into that house. When she places a hand on the door to exit the car, she's aware of Dean repositioning beside her, as if he shares her uneasiness.
"We could keep driving," he suggests lightly.
She looks back at his face and can't keep the smile from her lips. His green eyes are intent on her. Careful. Hopeful.
"Where would we go?" she asks.
He shrugs, his expression matching her wistful one. "I don't know. Anywhere."
"Okay," she says, and removes her hand from the door handle. Dean catches the movement, and Elena swears she sees a glint in his eyes as he presses a foot to the gas pedal.
They start going out on nights when neither of them can sleep. At first, they only drive around, seeing the town almost completely deserted under the black sky. Then they start getting drive-thru food and Elena learns how much Dean can eat. One night he puts back at least three burgers, fries, chicken strips, a milkshake, and still considers going back for more.
On the fourth night, Elena spots a twenty-four hour cafe that she's never been to.
"Come on, I could use a hot drink right now," she pleads as Dean drives past it. "Dean, it's freezing out."
He hesitates, bringing the car to a slow roll. At two in the morning there's hardly any traffic to hold up. Dean steals a glance at her, finding wide eyes peering at him from inside of a much too large jacket that must've been Sam's. She tucks her chin in but he can still see the pink of her nose.
He groans, "Fine."
Elena grins. "God bless your soul, Dean Winchester."
"Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes.
After they park they hurry out of the frosty air and into the cafe. As soon as they're inside they're hit with the warm scent of fresh coffee. It isn't until after her deep inhale of the rich smell that Elena notices how skittish Dean is. His eyes rake across the room every few moments, as if he expects someone to leap out, see the two of them together, and accuse them of some sort of unsavory crime.
But the cafe is empty except for the barista, who leans against the counter while hunched over her cell phone.
"Hi," Elena asks with a smile, "Can I get a hot chocolate?"
The barista looks up from her phone and nods. "One hot chocolate." She looks at Dean, "And you?"
"Black coffee," Dean replies, fishing for his wallet.
Elena nudges him, "I got you." She pulls out her wallet and hands the barista the payment for both of their orders. "And can I also get two donuts? One maple bacon and one powdered jelly."
When she looks back up at him she finds a softness around his eyes.
"Thanks," he says, seeming genuinely surprised. "How did you know those were my favorite?"
She shrugs, "I saw a box of them on your desk that time I slapped you."
He laughs deeply, startling her and making her stomach flutter happily. "It's good to know something good came out of that."
When they receive their coffee and donuts they settle into a table near the Christmas tree, shrugging off their heavy coats and draping them over their seats. Elena watches him as he takes a careful sip of his steaming drink.
She scrunches her nose. "God, what are you?"
He glances at her then at his black coffee and laughs. "I'm a grown-ass man."
"An ass-man?"
He's unable to keep the goofy smile from his lips when he gestures to her hot chocolate, "You're a child."
Elena returns his smile. All she wants is to pull another smile out of him. It's beginning to give her a high, making him laugh. She's only had the honor a handful of times and she intends to increase that number exponentially.
"Oh shut up," she says, "You're the one who giggled like a little girl when Cas said the word "taint".
Dean snorts, taking a bite of the maple donut. "Half the things that come out of that man's mouth sound sexual."
She pinches a piece off of the powdered donut. "The guy's been dedicated to school and medicine for over a decade. His social skills are a bit off."
He nods, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around his coffee cup. "Like what he said about you the other day."
Of course she knows what he means. But she doesn't want to talk about that. Not when he's already smiling. So she just nods and says, "I guess so."
He studies her face for a moment before continuing, "What did he mean by that?"
Elena takes a sip of her drink and carefully places the mug back on the table. She stares at the spot where the foam had parted for her mouth. "I suppose I'm a bit like you. I've lost family."
She meets his eyes again, finding them cautiously blank. She smiles, "Cas likes to see me as some kind of tragic survivor. He keeps talking to Kai about me like I'm supposed to be a good example when really I'm-" she lowers her eyes to the table, where his hands are still wrapped tightly around his coffee. "I'm just as fucked up as anyone."
Dean stares at her for a few moments with a small crease between his brows. "I'm sorry."
"God," she says with a laugh. "You have nothing to be sorry about." She sighs, then tries to clear the weight from the air, "It's nothing, I'm just whining-"
"No." Dean's eyes are steady and direct. "I'm sorry that you feel so alone."
She freezes. "I didn't say that."
His eyes then flit over her face and her heart shakes in her chest. "You didn't have to."
They stare at each other for what feels like minutes when the barista interrupts them with a "can I get you two anything else?"
"No," Dean says, not looking away from Elena.
Elena has to break eye contact. "No, thank you." She offers the young woman her tip, which she accepts happily. She can still feel Dean's eyes on her and it begins to grate at her nerves.
"What?" she asks as the barista steps away.
He presses his lips together before parting them to say, "You're not alone."
A warmth spreads from her chest to the rest of her body, his forest green eyes tearing her open. It feels dangerous. Too good to be real.
She frowns, "Why would you say that?"
Though his face is still mindfully blank, his words say more than his face ever can. Deliberate, and only communicating the barest of truths. "If you're alone then so am I. We can be alone together."
The next several days are a blur as they dig deeper into winter. The temperatures plummet outside, and there's no denying the corresponding shift inside the house.
As it had been when he'd first arrived, Dean's only company before and after work is Elena. This doesn't bother him as much as it used to and if he's honest with himself, he'd never been truly bothered by it, but rather the risk of their mutual grief exploding all over the place. He didn't think he could take that.
But he learns that Elena processes loss much like he does. Slowly, quietly, and preferably without anyone's help.
It doesn't take long for her to realize the same thing because she begins to skip the long, interrogating dinners with Cas in favor of a late night coffee with Dean. Or visiting Dean at the shop to "learn a few things" rather than going out drinking with Kai and his friends. This is when he discovers that she, in fact, knows quite a bit about cars because of a boyfriend she had in high school who owned vintage cars.
This is also when he realizes that all that he thinks he knows about her is filtered through the eyes of the men living around her. Them and the memory of when Dean met her last year. But he can't think about that now.
So it happens slowly. Instead of accidentally coming across her in the kitchen or the living room, Dean starts searching for her. Settling into the space near her when he finds her. On the couch. At the kitchen counter. On the porch. For hours, they'll sit without a word. Only the occasional sound of her turning a page or him scribbling into the legal paperwork that he still hadn't settled breaks the silence.
One night, instead of waking her up when she falls asleep on the couch next to him, he lets her rest a few moments longer. Her book slides from her fingers to the floor, pages bent, and he places a blanket over her. She stays there through the night.
They wake up to the rhythm of each other's easy breaths and Dean realizes that, like him, this may have been the first good night's sleep she'd had in weeks. He allows the realization to sink into his chest only so deep before the morning light shines its spotlight on them, forcing his body from the warm haze. He's out of the room before his eyes get too attached to her.
One of her bowling shoes is killing her. She peers over at Dean's shoes and smiles at the acidic green and pink with purple laces. Her amusement quickly becomes annoyance though as he steps around her with ease while she is left limping about. For a second she thinks about grabbing new ones but Dean has on that hilarious look of competitive determination as he eyes the bowling pins and she just can't leave that. That and the way his smile looks under the Christmas lights twinkling around them.
"Are you kidding me?" he demands of the ball as it skids into the gutter. A red light flashes on their monitor, announcing the gutter ball. From the table, Elena grins as he sends multiple curses at it. They're only a four frames into the game and it's already clear that they're equally terrible at it.
"Well, well. Looks like I'm about to become a champion," Elena smirks, referring to her measly ten points on the scoreboard.
Dean scowls. "I'm telling you there are magnets in the balls and gutters."
Elena stands from the table and approaches him at the start of the lane. "Watch and learn."
He rolls his eyes and sits down at the table, grasping a handful of fries and stuffing them in his mouth. Taking a deep, theatrical breath, Elena steps, aims, and shoots. The ball rolls slowly down the lane, wobbling until it dances off to the side and into the gutter.
"Ha!" Dean snorts.
"Mine still made it further than yours," she points out.
"This is ridiculous," Dean says, standing from his seat to join her.
"You mean the fact that we're failing at arguably the easiest sport in the world?"
"Yeah, that's it."
She turns to offer him a clever retort when the pain in her feet flares and she sways slightly. His hands are on her arms immediately, balancing her. Her foot throbs but he smells like soap and french fries, so she supposes it isn't so bad.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his joking tone instantly replaced with concern, eyebrows slanting together.
Elena laughs, leaning on him with one hand grasping the fabric of his hunter green shirt as she tries to remove the offending shoe. "I'm fine. This shoe's just too damn small."
His hands leave her, but instead of releasing her like she expects, he crouches down to help get the shoe off, leaving her hand on his shoulder for support. She's about to protest because like hell is he touching her feet. Her mind keeps shoving forth the memory of his warm fingers grasping her ankle in the dark on that first night when he'd stumbled into her room with a girl in his arms. But before she can he already has the shoe off her and his hands are no longer on her foot.
"No wonder," he says, flipping it around to show her the size with a half smile. "This one's two sizes too small."
She grunts some sort of acknowledgement because he's at eye level with her crotch and she's focusing on acting like he isn't despite his warm breath against her jeans. Dean, however, seems to be completely unaware of it. In fact, he's still talking about the shoe.
"It's definitely that kid at the counter's fault," he says, shaking his head. "I heard you, you asked for size eights-"
Elena tries to carefully extract herself from him by placing the throbbing foot down. But it instantly flares in pain and she curses as she loses her balance again. Dean stands, catching her for the second time with a smirk. "You know, you're incredibly awkward."
Her heart stutters and she huffs. "Look who's talking, gutter ball."
He chuckles, gingerly putting his arm around her waist to help her waddle over to take a seat at the table. "That thing is definitely swollen. It looks like a sausage."
"Is everything food to you?"
"I'm serious, look at it."
She does. "This has to be the lamest injury ever - injuring my foot while bowling."
He snorts, his fingers warming her skin through her shirt. "Not even. You were taken down by the shoe."
She giggles as he helps her sit down, one warm hand at the small of her back while his other had somehow made it into hers, steadying her. His breath tickles the top of her head as she lowers into the seat.
The contact sends a shiver through her, one that strikes her core. It feels like a note ringing through her that she's been trying to ignore for days. His chest is in front of her when she's fully seated and she risks an inhale.
Fuck . A shiver courses through her again as his familiar scent stops her breath at the base of her throat. Elena looks up to thank him only to find his hands releasing her and his eyes troubled.
"It's my turn," he says quickly, gesturing to the scoreboard. As he takes his turn, his ease with her retreats back behind his eyes, leaving Elena both confused and agitated. He maintains more space between them. Keeps eye contact to a maximum of one second before averting his eyes. They play two whole frames in silence before he speaks again.
"So Elena," he starts, clearing his throat. "I hope you don't mind that I invited a friend to hang out with us."
Her true surprise doesn't register on her face as she looks at him. "Of course I don't mind."
He nods, still not returning her look as he stares down at the rack of bowling balls, suddenly very focused on choosing one. "She's running a little late because of the snow but she should be here in a few minutes."
Her surprise deepens just enough to cut something in her. Obviously, there's no rational reason to be upset about this. He has every right to bring friends over. She doesn't own his time or company. But there's something about the way he doesn't meet her eyes that makes her want to curl back inside her room and lock the door.
Elena smiles with closed lips. "The more the merrier."
By the time this friend arrives, she and Dean have finished a game and are three frames into another one. She walks in with frosted red hair down past her shoulders. It takes Elena a second to identify her as the woman he'd brought home his first night in town. The one he rolled half-naked into Sam's bed with. An unwelcome pit forms in her chest.
Elena's mouth pops open. "Oh. Hi." She looks at Dean for an explanation.
"This is Anna," he says, but his eye contact doesn't hold.
Elena's stare slides from him to her. "Okay."
Anna grins, pulling off her snow covered jacket before reaching for Elena's hand and shaking it. "Dee explained what happened that night - about the mixup with the rooms. I'm so sorry about that. It's so embarrassing."
Dee? Elena raises an eyebrow at Dean, who still isn't looking at her. She shakes her head, looking down at her now empty plate of fries. "Don't worry about it."
Anna laughs, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Can you believe I thought that Dee was some married guy who got caught by his wife?"
Elena joins her laugh, trying her best to sound as if she truly thought it funny. "Yeah, I'm definitely not his wife." She looks at Dean again, who currently seems more fascinated with her sausage foot than the conversation that's taking place. Elena purses her lips at his silence before finally asking, "Would you like to join our game, Anna?"
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to interrupt-"
"It's totally fine," Dean says, nudging her. Elena looks at him again, irritated by how not Dean he's being. He clears his throat, "Elena's sitting out anyway. She hurt her foot."
Both pairs of eyes turn to Elena. Dean's are unreadable while Anna's are uncertain, like she's just now sensing awkwardness between them. Elena makes an effort to smile again, "Right. You can go ahead and take my place."
When Anna agrees, she quickly jogs over to the counter to get a pair of shoes. Dean waits silently and Elena glares at him. She doesn't break eye contact as her mind reels back, searching for something she might have done or said that had triggered him to be so uncomfortable with her. She had thought they had been doing well considering how badly they started off.
He should just tell her if he has a problem with something. She respects him enough to give him space if he asks for it. To leave him alone if he wants her to. She gets it. But this? This is a slow knife. One that's barely touched her yet, but she can feel it ready to pierce her skin.
Fury vibrates inside of her chest and she's caught between anger and sadness yet again. And she hates him for it.
Dean brings his eyes to meet hers, forcing her thoughts to a undignified stop. When he finds her angry stare on him, his jaw clenches. They don't speak, and for what seems like a long stretch of time everything around them blurs and falls to a hush. The unnecessary pop remixes. The rowdy teenagers a few lanes down. They sound like a faint breeze outside as Dean's eyes darken and inject her with a heat that always seems to tame the cold permeating her body.
But it lasts for only a single beat. Then he turns away from her.
"I don't really bowl," Anna says as she returns to their station, picking up a green ball from the rack.
Dean chuckles, "Well, you've come to the right teacher." Under different circumstances Elena might have laughed at this. Now she only frowns as Dean positions himself behind Anna as she stands in place with the ball. His fingers are on her arm, guiding her as she swings it back then forward.
" . . . and release," he says. She does, and the ball hurtles down the center of the lane. Elena sits back and props her foot up, watching silently. The ball crashes down the middle, knocking down every pin and putting an end to their losing streak.
Anna starts coming by the house after that. Dean invites her to movie nights, dinners, and often to stay over. Dean stops going on night drives and coffee dates with Elena. Any closeness that had been starting to develop between them screeches to a halt.
It isn't that Elena doesn't like Anna, because she does. Anna is nothing but kind to Elena and rather understanding of their circumstances. Elena even enjoys her company at times. But what truly hurts is that Elena can't shake the feeling that Dean keeps Anna around as a shield - to keep someone between them.
She hates feeling this way, like she'd done something wrong but she can't remember what. How every word between them tastes slightly bitter.
"Cobb is definitely awake," Dean says as the movie ends and the credit's slide across the screen. Anna had fallen asleep sometime within the film's first act and now lies limp against his shoulder.
Elena turns to face him from the opposite end of the couch. The couch seems much wider tonight. "It doesn't matter if he's awake or asleep."
"What?" Dean asks, incredulous. His voice rises in volume, causing Anna to stir a bit. Both he and Elena still for a few seconds before the young woman's body relaxes back into slumber.
Dean sighs and lowers his voice to a whisper, "Of course it matters. That's the whole point of the movie."
"But either way, his wife is dead because of him and he's been separated from his kids for years. He has to live with that feeling in his head."
Dean gives her a long, searching look, as if trying to understand what's in her's. She tears her eyes away and brings her attention to the bottle of beer that she'd abandoned on the coffee table as soon as the movie had grown intense.
She picks it up and brings it to her mouth, letting the buzzing liquid slide warmly down her throat. As she swallows around the rim she feels Dean's eyes on her and she looks at him, finding a deep frown.
She lowers the bottle and extends it towards him. "Do you want some?"
His jaw clenches. "I'm fine." He gestures to Anna's sleeping figure. "Don't want to move her too much."
"I got you," Elena says, scooting closer. She holds the bottle to his lips, making sure he's ready before tilting it.
His eyes are dark when he looks at her but he parts his lips, allowing them to touch where hers had just been. She pours some into his mouth and he swallows, licking his lips.
He clears his throat, but his voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Thanks."
There is a tightness in his shoulders and legs as he turns away from her, watching the credits continue with determination.
She regards him for a minute, contemplating her next words. "So I was thinking-"
"Oh no."
"- about Jessica."
He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back in exasperation. "But we were doing so well."
Despite his irked expression, she pushes on. "I found her address in Sam's phone and I want to see her," she says. "Get to know her."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Get to know her?"
"Why are you saying it like that?"
"Because it's a bad idea."
"Why?" she demands. "Am I some dirty mistress who's not allowed near her?"
"No, of course not," he says, pained. "Look, Sam didn't tell you about Jess and her son because he wanted to keep everything clean and separate. But this - it's just messy. Why make things complicated?"
The tension in his shoulder muscles tightens even more, but he struggles not to move under Anna's weight.
Elena looks at him as if he's speaking an alien language. "Life is complicated, Dean."
He meets her eyes directly now, "I just don't want anyone to get hurt."
But she sees it. A lie, plain on his face. She may not know which lie, but her detector catches it.
"Why are you doing this?" She asks, her voice this close to breaking. "I thought we were-"
She stops, not letting the words past her lips. He makes her regret the warmth that she let herself feel. She hadn't done anything wrong. Heat rises to her cheeks as she thinks of all the warning signals that she'd ignored..
"Are you hiding something from me?" she asks. But she already knows. This is just a courtesy question, one that gives him the chance to tell her.
He scrubs a hand over his face. "If you want to see her, I can't stop you."
Elena takes a breath, "Dean-"
"I'm tired," he says, tone clipped.
She blinks, hurt whipping across her face but just as quickly disappearing.
"Fine," she says, rising from the couch and turning away from him. The cold air hits her. "Goodnight."
He doesn't watch as the sliding door shuts behind her.
Dean isn't in the house this time. He's outside already, stepping through snow. Wet cold seeps between his bare toes. Grasps at his ankles.
He's looking for someone. He doesn't remember who.
But he does. Stop lying. You know, Dean.
He'd forgotten that lying doesn't work here. Not in the night.
The snow comes down a bit harder, wetting the top of his head and dusting his shoulders. He trudges on, squinting through the haze of freezing white. He knows who he's looking for.
Elena.
The moment his brain thinks the name into existence, she materializes in front of him. Just as he remembers. She's in purple pajamas, dark hair framing her face as she lays in the snow like an angel, arms out at her sides with her eyes pointed to the heavens. Frost bites her skin and clothes.
He rushes forward, cursing, but when he tries to reach out to her his hands hit ice. It surrounds her, frosting her hair and skin. He tries again but his knuckles collide with the ice, this time breaking skin. Blood smears the surface, leaving evidence.
The sound wakes her and she glares at him, eyes angry and sad and confused. Her mouth in a firm frown. Her anger makes him breathless. Dizzy. Makes the fury and grief and frustration that he's trapped in his chest want to tear past his ribs. When he looks into her eyes he sees the same suffocated flurry of emotions reflected back at him. He wishes Sam were alive just so he could scold him for all the broken things he left behind. For leaving him behind -
The scene changes. He's on the couch, blankets splayed across him as it would be any other night. But this time there's no one in between.
There's something about how the air sits, how the moonlight flits through the window, that tells him that this is still a dream. Somewhere deeper into his mind. There's a strange clarity to knowing he's in a dream, like the weight of reality lifts from his chest.
A happy hum sounds next to him, buzzing against his shoulder. He finds Elena's face resting there. Her dark hair is disheveled and her limbs are stretched out over him. She's wearing purple, like she always is in his dreams, but this time it's a thin nightdress that barely covers her.
Elena, he says quietly.
She opens her eyes, revealing the crystalline brown that always captures him during the day. A small smile stretches her lips. Beautiful. She's always been so beautiful.
Her hand moves up his chest, to his neck, then cradles his face. Her warm breath fogs his skin and his heartbeat thumps. There's a definite tension coiling his his stomach, a knowing tightness to his muscle that recognizes his desires surfacing in front of him.
Elena lifts herself up to straddle him, eyes locked on his.
He swallows, his breathing labored as his mind tries to fight it. To fight what's been lurking inside his gut just as his body must during the day.
But he should know lies don't work here.
He can feel that she's bare beneath her nightdress. The heat between her legs touches his thigh and he groans, shaking now as she leans down to face him. Her hair curtains them at one side and she presses her forehead to his.
Her hips rock against him and he lets out a strangled noise. His hands jump to her hips, crushing his fingers against her skin. But instead of stopping her like he thinks he will, he pulls her down, grinding up into her with an agonized grunt. She pants in response, but he can feel her smile against his neck as she leans in close.
His entire body clenches. Goddamnit. Goddamn you.
He growls and rolls her onto her back, pinning her down with his hips. A wildness roars in his chest at his surrender and Elena looks up at him in wonder, as if she too had been waiting for him to let go.
Dean shoves down his boxers with ease, lifts her nightdress and unceremoniously shoves into her. She moans, tightening her legs around him and he holds her close. The heat in him burns so hot that he can already feel the sweat forming on his back. The sound of her hoarse voice makes him harder, makes him want to pull that sound from her throat again. He wants to fuck all the cold from her body. He can't stop because he craves more-
Dean inhales sharply as wakes. His entire body is tensed and tight with dread. It takes several moments for his heartbeat to settle as sunlight rises through the window, spilling in between the blinds. Anna's slumbering figure lies peacefully at his side.
He's still hard, and a mounting frustration builds in his gut as the weight of reality crashes back onto him. He sits up and spits out a curse, clawing a hand through his hair. This house is making him crazy.
Jessica places a small cup of coffee onto the table and neatly slides forward a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Elena finds herself staring at the woman's hands. She didn't know hands could be that pretty. Just like the rest of her small apartment, her hands are pretty - not in the smooth, untouched way, but in a lively, expressive way. She wonders if Sam ever thought about putting a ring on it.
"So, Elena," Jessica says nervously. Elena lifts her eyes to meet hers, finding a kind, yet hesitant smile. "You're a doctor?"
"Resident," Elena replies, making an effort to sound friendly. The last time she socialized with anyone outside of the three men at home was at Sam's funeral. Words don't come as easily to her as she would like. She's grateful, however, that Jessica's son is in school at the moment. Elena doesn't know if she can handle that quite yet. She picks up a chocolate chip cookie. "I'm, uh, working my way towards neurosurgery."
"Wow," she says with an impressed eyebrow raise. "That's amazing. I can imagine the couple you and Sam would have been. A lawyer and a surgeon. That's every parent's wet dream."
Elena laughs, which seems to take Jessica by surprise because her eyes widen and she grins.
"What do you do?" Elena asks then, careful not to put too much weight on the question. She doesn't want her thinking that she's judging her.
"Oh." She blushes a bit. "When I was in high school I had dreams of being a lawyer but when I had Noah . . . it just wasn't doable. So I finished high school. Now I waitress down the street and substitute teach on the side. My parents help out when they can, and Sam's been so good about supporting us."
The woman looks down at her lap, fiddling with her cup of coffee. Elena wonders why it is that Dean wanted to keep Elena away from her. Jessica is certainly a bit frazzled at times but she's far from fragile. The woman's been raising a child on her own since she was seventeen for God's sake.
Then it occurs to her that maybe Dean is protecting her from Jessica. That he thinks that she's the one who's fragile. Who can't talk to the mother of her dead fiance's child without shattering.
So this is why he's been so kind to her for that past several days. He pities her. And now he sees how much she likes him and wants to stop her from getting the wrong idea. That's why he's been so distant. The thought makes Elena grip her cookie so hard that it snaps in half.
She swears under her breath and quickly shoves the cookie in her mouth to cover up for her fumble, dropping crumbs all over her lap. Chocolate smears her hands. Jessica snorts, and Elena tries not to laugh herself.
"It's delicious," she says between chews, accepting the napkin that Jessica offers her.
She flashes Elena a knowing smile. "Were you thinking about Sam?"
Elena swallows, then blinks in surprise, "What?"
She laughs. "Your face. You looked exactly how I felt about Sam when we dated. That man drove me nuts sometimes."
Elena feels her cheeks heating. "Oh - I - yeah. Sam."
In truth, Sam had been one of Elena's closest friends. They've been through a lot together, but it would be a stretch to say that he drove her nuts.
Jessica nods. "I'm glad you're here, Elena. It makes me feel . . . less alone."
Elena's heart melts a little bit. "I just wish Sam told me about you sooner. I would've been happy to help with anything."
Jessica's lips draw into a tight line and her eyebrows angle in worry. Wide blue eyes study her for a moment before she says, "Elena, there's something I should tell you before you're too nice to me."
Her unsteady tone makes Elena's stomach turn. "What is it?"
"We . . . saw each other again. After Sam found out about Noah."
Her words don't register for a moment. "You saw each other?"
Jessica's sickened expression and nod tell Elena everything she needs to know.
"Oh," she says blankly.
"I'm so sorry, Elena," she says through sniffles. "I didn't know about you, I swear. If I knew, I would never have - it was only a few times and after a while he said he would break it off -"
"Wait, he-" Elena stops herself because her voice had become sharp. She feels as if she'd gone cold and been crushed into a thousand shards of ice. The single cookie in her stomach threatens to come back up. She takes a breath before trying again, "Was he the one to . . . start it?"
Jessica's eyes grow wide, both horrified and conflicted. "I don't know, Elena -"
"Please, don't lie to me," Elena says evenly. "I've been lied to enough."
Jessica sighs and meets her eyes, considering. Then, "Yes. He started it."
Elena releases a breath. "And when you said that he was going to 'break it off', did you mean with you or with me?"
Though still unnerved, Jessica seems to realize that the only thing that can help Elena now is straight answers. "With you. He was planning on breaking up with you."
She feels a shiver crawl up her spine. "When?"
"Last year, I think around Christmas. He started spending more time with Noah. He started talking to his brother again. He was talking about fixing his life, mending things he'd broken-"
Snow drips onto her face.
"- but something happened, I guess. He stopped seeing me and Noah. Stopped seeing his brother-"
Outside. In the snow where the air is so cold it numbs skin. Numbs everything.
"- and he started sending money instead of bringing it to me," Jessica says. "I just wish he warned me." She gives Elena a sad smile. "I wish he warned both of us."
Elena lets out a shaking breath as her nerves rattle inside her. Her words are still processing and churning in her head. Then, with an absolute and bitter click, Elena understands why Dean had been acting so strangely. He knew. He knew everything. All of Sam's secrets, all of Elena's - this entire time he knew and dealt truth and lies to his will.
She can't believe it. She can't believe that she let herself trust two liars.
Kai zips around the Christmas tree with a roll of crimson ribbon in his hands, weaving it through the branches and bristles with sloppy speed. Cas had put on Christmas music, but is sitting on the couch with a patient's file open in his lap. For this case he's coordinating with pediatrics. The hospital is forcing him to stay home for a minimum of six hours because apparently he's been at work for too many days straight. They're worried that work performance might be affected by exhaustion.
But never mind them, he thinks. He wants the child to be home with her family by Christmas Eve. He chews on his pen with his eyes narrowed at the pages while Kai and Elena decorate.
Kai reaches the end of the ribbon and turns to Elena in triumph. "Well?"
She checks her stopwatch. "Seven seconds."
He raises a fist into the air. "That's what I thought. New champion, ladies and gentlemen."
He performs a goofy dance as Elena giggles. Kai clasps her hands, pulls her to her feet and swings her around in a circle, causing her feet to knock over several ornament boxes. Cas smiles softly at them. Kai had been the only one to get Elena, who'd been sulking in her room since yesterday, to smile.
They'd heard Dean and Elena's raised voices coming from the living room after she got home. When Cas asked Dean about it later he just scowled and shrugged, muttering incomprehensibly. Later, in the middle of the night Cas thought he'd heard a loud crash outside. He'd peered out the window to find Dean smashing in the garbage bin.
Now, Dean walks in and just barely dodges Elena's legs as Kai swings her around again.
"Sorry," Kai laughs, putting her down. An awkward silence filled only with Christmas music follows, causing Cas to glance curiously from his file to the group in front of him. Elena turns away from the other two, busying herself with sorting through a box of tree ornaments.
"Do you want to put the star up?" Kai asks Dean, trying to break the silence.
Dean looks from Kai to Elena's back, then back to Kai. "Sure."
Kai taps Elena's shoulder, "Give Dean the star."
Elena doesn't look up, but Dean's eyes are fixed on her now. From where he's sitting, Cas spots a pained expression on his face. She rifles through the box of decorations until she emerges with the topper. "Here."
When he reaches out to take it from her, her stare catches on his hand as if there's something there. Elena stills upon seeing it, watching as Dean reaches upward to place the star at the top of the tree.
"There," Dean says with a satisfied nod.
"What happened to your hand?" she hisses as Kai resumes decorating, utterly oblivious to the tension in the room. Deciding that this isn't his business, Cas returns to his file.
"What?" Dean asks. Though from his tone he clearly knows to what she is referring. Unable to help himself, Cas chances a glance in their direction.
Elena holds out her hand, eyes sharp. Dean returns her stare with contempt, though he doesn't seem to have it in him to match her intensity. After a few electric seconds, he sighs and places his hand in hers. Elena pulls it toward her, forcing him to step into her space. His breaths ghost her face now as he looks down at her, watching as she inspects his knuckles by running a finger lightly over the purpled skin. Cas wonders if she knows he looks at her that way.
"How did you get this?" she asks. "Did you hit someone?"
He shakes his head, then removes his hand from hers. He stretches his fingers out, as if trying to force the feeling of her from his skin.
Elena's eyes cut across his face. "Tell me the truth."
He meets her eyes carefully, then, "I didn't hit anyone."
Anger threatens to boil over and spill from her. She keeps her arms rigid at her sides as if to keep from shaking him. "Then what happened?"
He offers her a look of mild impatience, letting her know that she'd just asked yet another question he doesn't want to answer.
"Fine," she says through her teeth. "If you can't talk to me straight then we can't be friends anymore."
His expression of defensiveness falls and is replaced by something softer. Sadness? His voice is low as he says, "I don't think we were ever friends to begin with."
Her anger evaporates and is swiftly replaced by hurt. Cas knows that look. It's a look so vulnerable that she rarely shows it to anyone anymore. Not even Cas. A spark of jealousy, shoots through him. He hadn't felt that since Sam was alive. She steps away from Dean, looking like she's about to respond when the lights flicker and everything goes black. The background hum of the house's heater ceases.
Through the darkness, Elena feels Dean's eyes still aimed at her. His breathing goes slightly unsteady. They wait several moments for the electricity to return, but nothing comes but the sound of their buzzing thoughts.
She hears Cas grumble, then say, "Elena, grab the flashlights and candles. Kai, come with me to check the box."
"Does this happen a lot?" asks Dean. He shifts a little closer to her as the sound of Cas and Kai's footsteps retreat in the direction of the back door.
Elena turns away and reaches a hand out, feeling her way to the basement door. "It started a couple years after you moved out. Once it took an entire day for the electricity to come back."
She slowly opens the door and steps through, carefully descending the stairs. Behind her, Dean's steps are equally cautious. Her foot nearly slips on a step when she hears him mutter something.
"What did you say?" she asks, stopping to face him. It's pointless of course, but she frowns at him anyway.
He sighs. "I said, you guys really let this place go."
"For your information, we wouldn't have to deal with this if you'd just done the damn yearly inspection like you were supposed to-"
"Oh, is that what Sam told you?" He demands, a spark inside him lit. She can feel his energy hitting her like a tidal wave that had been held back for too long. "Well, did he also tell you that I was the one taking care of maintenance while he was off at school and when he was locked in his room doing homework? Did he tell you that I was the only one helping our dad when the basement flooded? When the mold had to be cleaned from deep inside the walls? When that wall collapsed because a tree crushed it in a storm?"
Elena turns away from him. The answer is no. Sam hadn't told her that, and she's sure that Dean knows it. But it's too late to take it back now.
"Sam told me that you're financially irresponsible, you drink too much, and that you have a bad temper," she says, her heightened emotions causing her feet to stomp haphazardly as she continues down the stairs.
Dean scoffs harshly, "This is coming from the woman who's hit me twice."
"You deserved it. All you do is lie."
"You need to stop taking your anger at him out on me."
The statement is so blunt, so straight-forward in comparison to everything he's ever said to her since he'd arrived that she falters. Her foot lands badly, pitching her forward into the darkness. Her heart flies to her throat just as firm arms catch her by the waist.
It takes a moment for her heart rate to slow. Then she feels the heat of his body at her back, his breath on her ear and his hands on her stomach. His breath catches, and he lets go, placing her steadily back onto the step she'd slipped from.
"Watch your step," he says curtly.
She huffs, glad that it's too dark for him to see the flush rising to her cheeks.
When they finally make it back up the stairs with the candles and flashlights, Cas had already set up the fireplace in the living room and Kai had collected a stack of blankets from the linen closet. They were piled onto the couch - Dean's "bed" - and on the floor along with several pillows.
"Slumber party at Dean's," he says with a grin. "I hope someone brought nail polish and gossip mags."
Cas shakes his head, "We're going to have to stay near the fire for tonight. There's no telling how long the heat and power will be out-"
"I call the spot next to the fire," Kai says dropping his pillow on the floor. "And I'm willing to scoot over a little but only for Elena. She has the least amount of insulation on her body and I can't be the cause of her death. I just can't have that on my conscience."
Cas cracks a smile, "And they say chivalry is dead."
"Of course I can't give her too much space because, let's be honest, I need it more than she does," Kai says. "I'm the youngest and therefore the farthest from death. You guys are old and on your way out anyway, so why bother?"
At that, even Dean smirks as he moves his pillow over to one side of the couch to make room for another person.
Kai grins at Elena, "What do you say, left side or right?"
Elena flashes her light at his face, "I'm sleeping in my room."
Kai looks ready to protest but Cas beats him to it. He stops poking at the logs in the fireplace to glare at her. "Elena, you'll freeze to death."
"I'll wear layers."
She feels Dean's eyes on her again and she's beat with white snow and memories of things she'd rather not think about. So without looking at him, she reassures them with more emphasis, "I'll be fine."
Sam's voice comes back to her that night. He comes with that warm energy he'd always brought with him and lies down next to her. Elena's breathing shallows. The pressure in her chest pinches at her heart.
Don't be sad, he says. I'm here.
No. No, you're not.
Elena sighs, opening her eyes. It doesn't make a difference in the darkness of the room, only making her feel blind as she strains against the nothingness above her.
"Elena?"
For a moment, in her delirium, Elena's ears have to tell her mind that the voice isn't Sam's.
It's coming from outside, she thinks to herself. Outside the room, Elena. He's standing outside.
She stumbles out of bed, dragging the thick blanket with her to shield herself from the freezing cold air. She can barely feel her fingers and toes. Pausing at the door, she observes the shadow of the figure on the other side. Through the screen she can see him leaning towards the barrier separating them.
Elena grabs the latch to tug the door open. It sticks as usual, and she has to put in more energy than anyone should have at this time of night to pull at it. She pulls at it so hard that the blanket falls off her body and the wood creaks.
Finally, the door slides open, letting new air in with the smell of Dean's soap. It smells stronger now that he'd just been sleeping. She raises an eyebrow at him, a layer of cold sweat covering her from the effort.
"Hey." His eyes search her, wide and cautious as he holds a candle up to light her face. "I, uh, heard your voice."
"Oh," she says, flushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry-"
"No," Dean says, a little forcefully. "Don't be."
They stand silent as Elena waits for an explanation, but for a while he offers her none. There's always something different about him in the night. His body is still tensed, but positioned as if all of the things he's trapped inside himself during the day are threatening to fly free.
His licks his lips. The light from the candle between them is dim, but she sees his eyes fall to her chest briefly before he clears his throat and looks away from her. "It's fine, I was just checking if you were okay."
She crosses her arms and she suppresses a shiver. It doesn't go unnoticed by him.
"You're cold." He doesn't say it as an accusation or a haughty I told you so. In fact he looks angry at himself, as if he had been the one to physically force her from the heat of the fireplace.
She unfreezes her stiff face and says, "I'm fine-"
"Your lips are blue."
"You're being dramatic."
"You're being stubborn." His stare drops down to her lips and they suddenly feel like they're burning. Self-consciously, she runs her tongue over them.
Dean's lips part slightly, releasing a short, wobbly exhale. The flame flickers. There's a faint haze in his eyes when he looks back at her and says, "Definitely blue."
She picks up the blanket and tucks it around herself. "Fine. I'll warm up by the fire, but after that I'm back in my room."
Elena shoves past him and he rolls his eyes. Quietly, so not to wake the other two on the floor, she curls onto the far end of the sofa and away from Dean's spot. She keeps her gaze on the fire, but she feels the couch dip as Dean sits on the opposite end.
For a stretch of time neither of them say anything and Dean refuses to fall asleep. She just feels him looking at her every now and then. Despite the layers of pajamas and the blanket wrapped around her, she feels naked in front of him.
She hates it. She hates the fact that he knows the ugliest things about her. She hates that, no matter how angry she is, she really thought they had been friends. She also hates how stupid she was to think that he might care about her. No, he's here as Sam's final lie.
To - what was that phrase he used?- keep things clean and separate.
"Dean?" she says softly. Both Cas and Kai are much too deep in sleep to hear. Dean looks at her, and she can feel his body tense from across the couch.
"Why couldn't you just tell me?"
Dean sighs. "It's not my secret to tell."
"Bullshit."
He glares at her. "I didn't want to change your opinion of him."
" Bullshit ," she says, anger flaring. "Is everything you say straight from a bull's ass?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"The truth, Dean!"
"Keep your voice down," he says, his jaw and shoulders tight. His eyes are dark as they burn into her.
Elena huffs, blood boiling. She rises to her feet and strides furiously to the kitchen, abandoning her blanket on the couch. Her skin is too hot to feel the cold air.
When the door shuts behind her she's surprised to find that Dean had followed her with an expression as angry as hers. He stops by the door, leaving a wide space between them.
She feels dizzy as he stares directly at her, eyes alive with a fire that she'd been searching for all this time. "What the hell is your problem?" he asks.
"My problem?" she scoffs. "My problem is that you lie to me as easily as you breathe; you think you have the right to decide what I know and don't know; you let me open myself up to you only to have you step away from me as soon as I leaned back; you're funny and kind and ridiculous and I love spending time with you but you think I'll stop caring about you just because you ignore me so you keep doing it; you eat way too much, you drink black coffee, and you suck at bowling and why the hell do you fucking let her call you Dee? It has the same amount of syllables as Dean - IT MAKES NO SENSE."
Dean blinks, adequately stunned into silence and Elena feels only a pinch of satisfaction. Through the darkness of the kitchen she sees pink rising to his neck and face.
"Just tell me something real," she demands, taking a step towards him. "Because I can't tell the difference with you anymore."
She sees the white of his knuckles as he holds them at his sides. He searches her face, absorbing her aggression before he grits out, "You weren't supposed to-" he cuts himself off, pushing a hand through his hair and huffing.
"Just say it," she snaps, bracing herself.
He's flushed, as if choking on the truth as it tries to surface. He takes in a sharp breath, eyes livid. "You weren't supposed to have feelings for me."
Heat burns her cheeks as the slow knife finally finishes its descent into her chest.
"Screw you, Dean."
"You wanted the truth. Feelings are messy, Elena," he says forcefully but his eyes plead with her. "Everything about this - us - is messy."
She shakes her head, taking another step. "You know what kills me? You're lying to yourself too. These 'feelings' that you're talking about aren't just mine. They're yours too."
Dean backs into the counter, lowering his eyes. "No. They're not."
"Liar."
His eyes snap to hers and he swallows. Uncertainty dances across his features. Elena closes more of the space between them until he has to place a hand in the center of her chest to stop her.
"Don't," he says quietly.
"Why not?" she whispers, inching closer so that his palm presses harder into her chest. The heat of their bodies defrost the freezing air.
His voice is hoarse. "Because if you move any closer we'll do something we're both going to regret."
That makes her breath catch in her throat. He's inches away now, searching her eyes furiously. His jaw clenches as she stares back, eyes much steadier than her heart beating rapidly against his palm.
That's when she realizes that it's already too late.
Without a moment of hesitation, she twines her fingers into his t-shirt, grasping the fabric hard, and yanks him down. He stumbles, hunching forward and crushing his lips to hers.
Dean is frozen for several beats. A flutter of embarrassment and doubt nearly causes her to let go, but suddenly his hands are on each side of her face. His thumbs stroke the hair from her cheeks and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
He's kissing her back.
If his lips weren't on hers right now she might've let out a shout of ecstasy.
The kiss lasts several moments before they separate, and Elena no longer needs to pull him to keep him near. He leans on her, his body pressed into hers as their foreheads touch.
She looks into his eyes and finds them dark - angry and afraid and full of want. She releases his shirt, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. He shuts his eyes and takes her by the arms, turning her so her back is to the wall. She shivers when he brings himself closer, pushing his body between her legs with such certainty, as if he'd been meaning to take his place there for a long time.
Elena turns her head away, partly because she's dizzy and partly because she's about to burst from his eye contact alone. This gives Dean the chance to press his mouth to her jawline, her neck, her collar, making her release an undignified moan. The second the sound meets Dean's ears he groans and their bodies snap together like magnets and he presses his tongue to her pulse.
Elena shivers and rocks her hips against him, causing his breath to catch. He curses through his teeth. She can feel a wetness blooming between them and she can tell Dean does too because he makes a strangled sound, running his hand past her breasts and stomach and pushing beneath the waistband of her pajamas.
" Ugh ." Elena's hips jolt forward the second his fingers make contact, hot and assertive. She hooks her thigh around his waist, tightening around him like a vise. His fingers find her bundle of nerves and she lets out a shout, which he quickly kisses silent. His kiss is hard, almost angry as he thrusts a finger inside her. She clenches - her breath stops at her throat and her hips give another uncoordinated roll against him.
"Shhh," he says, though he sucks in a sharp gasp when her hand works its way under his boxers. His hand jumps from beneath her underwear to her wrist, pulling her hand away. She looks at him in confusion but, with a small shake of his head, he moves her arms above her head and begins to thrust between her legs, right where she needs pressure. She arches her back, shaking from the pulses of pleasure, feeling his hard length through the thin layers of cloth separating them. She clenches her thighs, desperate for more and he growls, immediately accelerating his pace.
"Jesus, Dean," she says breathlessly, meeting his thrusts with unbridled aggression. She brings her lips to his ear, "Do you know how many times I've thought about you doing this to me?"
"Fuck." His teeth scrape her shoulder and he lets go of her arms and puts his arms around her. He brings her closer, so close that all they can do now is writhe against each other. The fabric of their clothes rubbing against each other starts to burn but neither of them care.
His hard length digs between her legs, harder and faster and she lets out a startled cry. So Dean Winchester likes dirty talk?
"Do you want to know what I imagined?" she whispers.
"God yes," he breathes immediately, frantically humping her, driving her nerves haywire. She moans, struggling to speak again.
"Every time we were alone in the car I thought of you pulling over and fucking me so hard the car shook."
He lets out a noise and Elena can tell that he's close, his rhythm faltering and his eyes shut. She holds him, letting her nails grasp at his back.
"Once I woke up in the night," Dean says softly, "there was cum on my blankets because of a dream I had about you. Every night after that I fucked you in my sleep-"
Elena kisses him, tongue in his mouth, exploring everything within her reach. The fabric between them is soaked now as their hips jerk together repeatedly, desperately. Sticking and unsticking. Their surroundings blur. The sounds they make intertwine and sharpen as the pleasure mounts, higher and higher until -snap. They're both coming hard in a hot, white blaze, bodies tensing against each other.
They're covered in sweat despite the freezing temperature. Ragged breaths rush past Dean's lips as he catches his breath and looks into Elena's eyes. "Is this a dream?"
They stare at each other, his body still tight against her. He looks beautiful, freckled and breathless. And he's touching her, desperately and urgently when just hours ago he refused to look at her for longer than a second.
"Does it matter?" she asks.
At that, the corner of his mouth tilts upward. "Of course it does."
