The Adventures of Emma Davis
Part Three: Wreck of the Day
Chapter Four: Distractions
Notes: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has read this, whether you reviewed, favourited, put it on alerts or not. As much as I love getting reviews, I love knowing the fact that people are reading it and enjoying it, so thanks.
When I got back, it was much later. I brought in the groceries I bought, and I admit, it took a few trips. Mostly because when you're shopping to cook for at least three guys and yourself, you need a lot of food. By the time I was done unpacking the food into the fridge and cupboards, I was exhausted. Sam was also still yelling.
I didn't see Dean or Bobby as I got one of my small bags and brought it up to the room I usually stayed in. It didn't take long before I was asleep.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up is that I was on my side and an arm was wrapped around my waist. That made me more alert. Then I felt the breathing on the back of my neck. I didn't think. Instead I twisted around and hit whoever was holding me while also trying to scoot away. Needless to say, I fell off the bed.
I got up quickly to see whom it had been only to find Dean staring at me. I looked down at myself. Clothes? Check.
"Alright there sweet-heart?" He asked; his voice slightly deeper from sleep.
"Dean, what are you doing here?" I asked, frowning a bit and ignoring how my heart sped up a bit at the sound of his voice.
"I was sleeping."
"You do have your own bed."
He got up then with a sigh. He just stared at me for a moment before walking to the door.
"Dean?" I asked, wondering if he'd answer me.
"I have to check on Sam."
I stood there for a few moments, staring at the spot where he had been before he left to go see Sam. I then looked back at the bed. It was too early to deal with this.
I had been making breakfast; coming to the conclusion that Dean had snuck in when I was asleep for the company. Dean came in then, going to the fridge when I whacked his hand with the spatula I had been using for French toast.
"You better be getting juice."
"Em," he started but I cut him off.
"No. One, it's too early to be drinking. It's not healthy. Two, you can't drown things out with alcohol. That's not healthy either."
He was beginning to narrow his eyes at me, so I put the spatula on the counter and moved closer to him.
"Dean," I said, taking a deep breath and hoping I wasn't about the throw myself to the wolves. "Don't die from something so stupid. Not when you save people from the monsters under the bed."
"Em…" He moved closer, one of his hands reaching up for my face.
My breath hitched as I tilted my head up and he started to lean lower. The smell of something burning reached me. "Shit!" I turned quickly to try and salvage the remains of that particular piece of French toast. I heard Dean move behind me. "Only juice or water Dean!"
I heard him snort but I looked over, pausing in my salvaging, and he got a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some juice. I gave him a grin and turned back to my cooking. Least one thing was going right.
The next couple of days passed by in the same fashion. I'd wake up with Dean in my bed, even though I had fallen asleep alone. I was half tempted to sleep in the room we had slept in the first night just to throw him off. I also usually got up and made breakfast and had to guard the alcohol from Dean. That was the toughest part.
It wasn't so much I had to fight with him; it was the fact that I knew it was a form of escape for him. He couldn't grab a beer from the fridge when I was in the kitchen in the morning. He drank a bit at night, which I couldn't blame him then. It was probably one of the reasons I never saw him before I went to bed. It was because of this and because I was sick of hearing Sam scream myself, I thought he needed a distraction. Looking out the window, I came up with the perfect idea.
"Dean?" It took me a bit to find him; he had been in the library with Bobby. Least it wasn't the basement.
"What?"
I took a breath. I had to act this out right. "I know you're…busy, but I was wondering…" I paused for a moment. What was I going to say again? "My car was making a weird clicking noise last time I drove it and you know me, I know nothing about cars…. Could you take a look?" I hoped he bought it.
He stood up, tossed a look over at Bobby who had been reading at the desk, and nodded.
Well, that part was done. Sort of.
He stood in front of my car, the hood was up and he was leaning in. I was sitting in my car, ready to start it.
"Start her up," he called out to me, so I did.
There was no clicking noise. Never had been, but it was enough to get him out of the house.
I got out of the car once I had turned it off at his approval. He was wiping his hands with a rag when he looked at me.
"I didn't hear anything click." He said and I knew then that he knew there was nothing wrong with it. "Come here," he said, rolling his eyes with a small smile.
I moved closer to him, a little wary. He may not have been his usual self lately, but I wasn't going to take chances if he knew I tricked him.
"Look, here's the engine…"
He then started pointing out parts of the car and how if I ever did hear a clicking noise, where it would probably be coming from. Some of it he had taught me before, but I still listened and asked questions. If this was a distraction he wanted, well then it was the distraction he'd get.