Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy. - Aristotle

::..::..::

There's far too much emotion woven between the two of them. They know each other too well, and words can escalate before either of them have a chance to regroup. Buttons are so easily pushed when you know where their hidden. Lila has a sharp tongue, but Dean checks his filter at the door, she has a way of making things blurred, obscures his vision until he can't see, all he can do is feel.

Lila tells herself it's just the liquor, they're both drunk and tempers sometimes flair. She's pacing in front of the window, trotting back and forth in front of the broken air-conditioning unit. The warm air is playing in the heavy orange and brown curtains. She's irritated by the billowing drapes and hits them childishly with her hand at every pass.

Dean shuts his eyes, and tilts his head with a clenched jaw; Lila make him furious. Of all the seven deadly sins anger is possibly the most obstinately delicious. Tonight his prose was one of hurt and vengeance, specifically designed to mar her. He licked his wounds and smacked his lips over grievances long past. He tested his tongue to the sour prospect of bitter confrontations still to come. He's savoring the last toothsome morsel of pain he's given and the pain he's hurling back - in many ways it's a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that the meal he's wolfing down is himself. The skeleton left at the end of the feast is him.

"I don't get you," He wrestles with his jacket, he's overheated now, starting to sweat and irrationally blames her for his being uncomfortable.

"Well that makes two of us."

There's a fine line to keeping his own anger in check. Harsh cords simmer inside him, while the heat rises and he's boiling over. They don't fight often, Lila is passive by nature, but when they do wage war it's vicious.

"You're a fucking asshole." Lila spits, she's shaking with rage, eyes blazing wild.

"You're a bitch." He mumbles, with a frustrated smile, nothing left to do but run his hands through his hair and try to keep from killing her.

"I can't believe you, you can't just act like that because you want to. You can't yell at me in front of other people…in front of strangers Dean! It's embarrassing." Lila feels her cheeks flush at the thought of Dean taking a swing at a guy three time his size, and then dragging her to the car by her arm. Lila's never seen him that quick to anger before, it throws her for loop.

Dean punishes himself, not that he realizes his own masochism. Lets himself think of what she'd look like bent over the bed, body pushing back into that piece of shit that had his hands on her. Pictures lips parted, hair mussed, tits hard - all for the sake of someone else.

"That wasn't my fault, I'm not the one who was half naked, parading myself around-" He can't even finish, instead clenching his jaw.

"That's not even fair, this is jeans and a tank top…" she throws her hands up, clasped fists and shaking her head with eyes wide. "It's not like I'm wearing a g-string Dean. I didn't do anything, that guy grabbed my ass, not the other way around. I can't believe you took me there anyway…of all the places…and you invited Sam?"

"I don't know what you want from me Lila?" Dean holds up his hands in mock surrender. "You said you wanted to go out, I took you out. And since when do you got a problem with Sammy?"

"I said I want you to take me out Dean, you. Not your brother…god damn it…fucking-air-so-fucking-hot" Lila kicks the useless wall-unit with each word, and pulls back her hair, waiting for an answer she knows will only make matters worse. It's only a matter of time before someone complains to the office, she knows they're making too much noise.

"I did take you, how was I suppose you to know you want it be just the two of us. And what was wrong with that bar anyway? We've been to a thousand others just like it-"

"That's the whole point," she slumps against the window ledge, breathing hard and heavy with abhorrence in her fierce stare. "I wanted to do something other than what we always do. Why is so hard to understand I want to do anything other than ride in the fucking car or wait in some motel room or eat the same food in every diner or hole-in-the-wall bar or fuck on dirty sheets. That's ALL we ever do Dean, the same things over and over again. I thought maybe you might, I don't know, take me to a movie…or for a walk…or anything other than this." she's sobbing now, tears falling without abandon.

Dean understands what she mean, identifies with the want but resents her for saying it at the same time. Fuck her. It's not like this was his childhood dream, this isn't the life he dreamt of, but he shuts up and just lives it. Because these are the cards he was dealt.

"I didn't realize I wasn't good enough for you." His tone is calm for the moment, but the malice behind the words is unmistakable.

"NO, no, don't turn this into that. That's not what I said." Lila moves toward him as her voice raises, renewed at how maddening she finds him.

"It sounds to me like that's exactly what you're saying." He looks at her with hard eyes and a still jaw. Lila hates it when she sees him like this, she watches him shut himself off to her. "If you're so unhappy why don't you just…" he stops before he says it. The last of any filter he has left.

"Say it Dean, come on." Her voice is nasty and torn with pain.

"Nobody's keeping you here." he looks her dead on, his tone flat and resolved. His heart flutters straight away and he wants to take it back.

"You're a heartless son of a bitch you know that?" Lila's shaking, closing her eyes and ready to move away from him. Ready to leave, wondering if Sam is in his room. "You always gotta be a God damn bastard huh?"

"If you'd stop acting like such a bitch I wouldn't have to. Fucking Cunt." Shit. He's never should have gone that far, but it's perversely satisfying to watch her face drop when he calls her that. Gives a little release to the hold this fury has built up inside him.

Lila snaps back when she hears it. Cunt. She hates that word more than anything, he's never used it before because he knows it cuts her, deep and raw. "You're such a coward" She's in his face, aggressive and hostile, standing over him where he's sitting on the bed.

"Yeah, you tell me what you really think." Dean gives a half chuckle and waves his hand as if to dismiss her.

"Sad, little lonely-boy Dean can't admit to anything other than 'I'm always right'" She puffs, heaving in his space, and wishing she could wipe the smirk off his face. "You're a useless piece of shit."

"No more useless than you sweetheart" He grabs one of her wrists and pulls her close "You think you mean anything more to me than pussy?" he shoves a hand between her legs, rough and forcible to accentuate his words and she squirms back in shock and disgust. .

Lila reacts instantly "fuck you" she shouts, her voice is the battle cry for the tears already rushing to the frontlines.

She slaps him.

She slaps him harder than she knew she could, the sickening sound of the her palm connecting with his face. Dean's not expecting it, and his head snaps, already the taste of the blood in his mouth.

There's sudden confusion, her body being tossed about without warning, and a pain in her arms. Before her hand even begins to sting he has her pinned under him. Both her arms twisted high above her head, wrist held together in the grip of one shaking hand. She whines in shock, struggles upward, but there's no fighting him, the entire length of his body laid out over her. His free hand forcefully grips her face, pinching her cheeks brutally, lips scrunched as he squeezes her face in his hand, forcing her to stare at him.

"Look at me" He's seething, spitting commands in a venomous pitch.

"Go fuck yourself"

For a moment there's so much rage, white hot anger blinding him, making him want to tear her apart for making him feel anything.

He cocks his hand back, his first instinct is to backhand her. Dean watches her screw her eyes shut and turn her head to the side, letting out a mousy cry in preparation for what's to come. It comes to him in the fragile moment that could end so much…he's not mad at her. There are plenty of things he's furious about, Sam, his father, this life, his own pain…but not her. It's between twenty-something years in coming and when he does finally breakdown he lets it go on her.

He feels wet, coolness slide down her cheeks and when he looks at her now there nothing left but the frightened look across her face.

Dean wishes she would slap him again, but really knock the shit out of him this time. Give him what he deserves. The forgiveness for anythingshe's done is immediate, instantaneous. For what little of this anger is connected to her is based around the fact that she's seen him, Really looked into who he is, been there for his mistakes, bore witness to his inadequacies. Never really realized he harbored any resentment until right then. Lila had done nothing but witness his humanity…and she hadn't run.

He looks down at her, all tears and trembling…he feels nauseous. He can handle her hating him, but not fear, he doesn't ever want her to be afraid of him. The guilt of it all is devastating, and he is besieged with the realization of how far and fast the anger he harbors takes him.

Lila opens her eyes when she feels him let her arms go, and his hands inching between her back and the mattress, hugging her. He buries his face in her neck, hot, uneven breath against her pulse point. She doesn't move, instead just lays there limp as he curls his body around hers and cries softly into her skin.

It's a litany of repentance, whispers of apology, appeals for forgiveness, admissions from both sides.

"Are you going to leave?" When he asks her, she sighs and wraps arms around him in return.

"Of course not" She lets her fingers play with the short hairs at the back of his neck as he nuzzles his face further down, nestling between her breasts. He can hear her heartbeat frighteningly fast , thumping against his ear. "I'm sorry I said those things…" she sighs, sounding wholly exhausted.

"I didn't mean it " Dean shakes her head in her chest, can't bring himself to look her in the eyes yet. She knows he can't say all the things he wants to. It's alright because she can't either. Talking gets them into trouble they can't get out of.

::

Two weeks later in Wyoming, Dean hi-jacks her on a Sunday afternoon. He holds her hand while he drives, thumb rubbing the back of her hand and watching how she smiles at the afternoon light. He sneaks glances at her, noticing for the first time the rosy hue in her cheeks, delicate color on pallid skin. Watching the soft curl of dark hair, surprisingly long; he marvels at how beautiful she emerges when she's blind to her own loveliness.

He finds a old revival theater, in a town so out of the way he'd never be able to find again if his life depended on it. The tickets are cheap, but the popcorn is stale and the only thing playing is a animated kids movie he's never heard of. She tells him she can't believe he's never seen that movie and they're definitely staying. Dean sends up a silent prayer of thanks that he remembered his flask. It's a exquisite, rundown theater , Lila can smell mold and new paint as they sit in ratted seats. Lila thinks it's fantastic. He's there with her, arm slung over her shoulders as the lights dim and her eyes tear up at the opening credits of An American Tail.

And even though I know how very far apart we are

It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star…

Dean fucks her in the parking lot, she rides him in the backseat, squirming and moving her hips while he bucks up into her. Her teeth chatter over his lips, kisses hard and meant only for him. He fists the pale yellow material of her dress where it's bunched at her hips, rough hands cupping her ass, adding to the insistence of her hips, bringing him deeper and harder until she's aching with lust. Her back curved sharply, harsh gasps when his dick finds her sweet spot and all she can do is say his name. She digs fingers, clawing into his shoulder, cock buried deep, while quivering muscles tug at him. She jerks when he comes quickly with a muffled shout, mouth still pressed into her breast.

In the end it's not a far-reaching gesture she's been hoping for, just a small moment, something private that's only theirs. There are no romantic dinners, no theatre tickets and no moonlit walks - no, instead Lila gets a cheap film, a flask of whiskey and a quick fuck. And in this life, not the ideal, not the fairy tale, but in this real existence…it's perfect.