Disclaimer – See Chapter One.
Lozz: He made me breakfast. In bed.
Shar: Lauren, get over it. The important thing is – how much sex Sam and I are having. Every time I turn around, we're in a position that leads to –
Lozz: Ugh! Shut it! I do not need to hear about your sex-capades. It's scary enough having you write about it. And the real, real, real issue here is – your moving out. And getting engaged. And replacing me. Poor, poor Lauren.
Shar: You don't mind do you?
Lozz: rolls on the floor laughing Good god, no. I'm glad to be getting rid of you.
Shar: is shocked
CHAPTER SEVEN
You Won't Understand
She brings me love; I know that it's all that I need
Love, I know it's all that I need
Sometimes I get a feeling, deep in my bones
Sometimes I get a feeling, won't leave me alone
Sometimes I get a feeling, deep inside
It's such a feeling, my love I can't hide
She Brings Me Love – Bad Company
Dean
We fell asleep at the table in the middle of the night. Whose idea was that again? My neck had an ache in it that rivaled the headaches Lauren had given me.
I looked at my watch. It was three o'clock in the morning.
I got up, and scooped Lauren into my arms. I just stood there for a moment, watching her there. She turned her face into my chest and curled into me. I would be fooling myself if I said it didn't feel good. Because it did. I love responsive women – it's not Lauren in herself, I'm sure.
I shook my head, and walked quietly towards the bedroom. When inside, I placed one knee on the bed, lowering her onto it. She moved restlessly on the bed for a second, which destabilized me and I fell forwards onto my hands. I kept my arms straight, holding myself above her. She smiled in her sleep, and her legs tangled themselves in mine. I lowered myself next to her. It was very squashed up on the bed, seeing as how it was a single, so I shifted a little, and held her in my arms.
"Kiss me…" she whispered. I don't know if it was her, or if she was dreaming. Maybe it was her empathy reaching out in her sleep and discovering how I felt. All I knew was, I couldn't keep a lady waiting.
I kissed her softly on the mouth, and then lay back against the pillows.
That's how I fell asleep again.
∞∞
Sharika
I was awoken by the gentle rustling of the leaves outside. I turned in bed without opening my eyes.
"Sam?" I called out in my groggy morning voice, reaching out to the space next to me. There was no response, and no body under my hand.
I forced my eyes open, and blinked a few times while they adjusted to the light surrounding the room. Once my vision was clear I glanced at his side of the bed, only to find a single note placed on his pillow.
'Making pancakes' I read off it. I glanced up at the clock; it told me that it was nine thirty.
I got up and put on my clothes (blue shorts and a blue singlet), which were folded neatly in the corner. I brushed my hair and tied it up into a messy ponytail before I left the bedroom.
"Hi," Sam's deep voice greeted me from in front the counters. He was wearing a t-shirt with the Nike slogan on it and dark blue jeans. His face was smudged liberally on the cheeks in what I presumed chocolate.
"Hi," I greeted back, smiling. I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "Where are the pancakes?"
He grinned sheepishly and then glanced at the sink.
Curiously, I followed his gaze, only to find a plate stocked with burnt pancakes. There were about ten or eleven piled sloppily on top of one another.
"Choc chip pancakes?" I asked.
He nodded.
"It's the thought that counts," I told him.
With one finger I scooped a little chocolate off his face and tasted it.
"It's good," I told him. A giggle escaped my lips. For the second time I scooped chocolate off the side of his face, as soon as I did he grabbed my hand and licked the chocolate off my finger.
I laughed as his tongue was still roaming on my finger long after the chocolate had been gone. He began kissing up my arm, neck and eventually his lips made their way to mine. I put my hands in his hair, stroking him softly. One of his hands was on my hip and the other wandering on my back.
I laughed after we broke off the kiss. This kiss only resulted in the chocolate spreading more on his face. He peered down at me, grinning, and kissed me again softly on my shoulder.
"You got chocolate all over me!" I exclaimed, in mock anger. There was a trail of chocolate from my arm all the way to my face.
He smiled at me, his eyes looking over the chocolate trail.
"Are you hungry?" I asked him, hopping off the chair and jumping into his lap. I rested my head in the crook of his neck.
"A little," he answered, his fingers skimming over the edges of my singlet. He pushed off the fabric and started to caress my waist.
"Me too," I whispered. I kissed his cheek, licking off some of the chocolate. "We should visit them, you know, the blonde one and the other guy before we get distracted." I twirled a strand of his hair with my fingers.
"Too late," Sam said, dipping his head lowered to kiss me. Without breaking the kiss he stood up, remembering to hold me, and began to stride back towards the bedroom.
∞∞
Dean
I woke up slowly. There was still a soft, warm body held against mine.
I blinked, and looked down.
And it was still Lauren's body. I don't know what possessed me last night, except that she just looked so sweet asleep on the table. And even sweeter on the bed.
I detangled myself from her slowly, and got up. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since five o'clock yesterday. Food. I need food.
I looked down at Lauren again. What would she eat for breakfast? Did she eat breakfast? She didn't yesterday. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday. Neither did I, except for a burger in the afternoon while everyone was otherwise occupied. Wait, unless you count eating a chip out of my hair as breakfast.
Heading into the kitchen I laughed softly to myself. She'd looked so – quirky, eating that smoking chip, and then she'd offered me one, and I'd wanted to – well. What can I say? Sam and Sharika's constant lovey-dovey behavior has made me even more oversexed than usual, and I guess I was latching onto the only other female I was allowed around.
"What do we have here?" I asked the fridge as I opened it. Some shriveled fruit, milk, a half eaten slice of Hawaiian pizza, a scraping of butter, an open packet of bacon, two tubs of Sammy's vanilla yoghurt, one head of browning lettuce, and a couple of bottles of beer. The freezer wasn't much better, having one ice-cream, and a TV dinner inside. Grabbing the half eaten pizza slice, I moved over to the cupboard. It had half a loaf of bread, a container of peanut butter and one bottle of dry-mix instant pancakes. It was lucky the place even had this much food; we'd been holed up here for a week before Sam had forced himself to go grocery shopping.
It would have to do.
Finishing the pizza off, I pulled the pancake mix from the cupboard, and started to assemble what I would need. A pan, from under the sink, the butter from the fridge, fruit, the bacon, the bread and the toaster.
And I started to cook.
Stick the bacon under the griller – turn the griller on. Put butter to melt in the pan, add water to the pancake mix, shake it up as I put toast in the toaster – but don't push it down yet, and stir the melting butter. Pour four circles of batter into the pan, start to slice fruit, get a couple of plates out, check on the bacon. Flip the pancakes, push first batch of toast down, take a bite of the fruit to check it's still edible – it is, place it on the plate. Take the first four pancakes out, put them in a plate in the oven to keep warm, flip the bacon, butter the toast that's just popped, and stick it in with the pancakes. Put more toast in the toaster, more batter in the pan, and continue slicing fruit.
Still half-asleep, I slipped into the cooking role easily, soon losing myself in the rhythm of keeping everything going.
And then it was done.
Four pancakes for Lauren, two slices of toast with bacon, and fruit on the side. Six pancakes for me, with two slices of toast with bacon, and fruit on the side. There was still more than half of the pancake batter left, if we were still hungry. I probably would be.
I turned everything in the kitchen off, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink, and headed into the bedroom, my hands balancing the plates.
Hopefully she would appreciate the breakfast, and not get snarky at me for waking her up. If she didn't want it, I'd have it. I placed the plates on the bedside table, then I pushed the second bed into the occupied one, so there would be more room. I came around to her side, and shook her gently.
"Uhnnarrr," she groaned incoherently, turning over. "Difnaddle." (At least, that's what it sounded like.)
"Lauren, I made breakfast," I said loudly, and shook her again. "Wake up."
She blinked up at me, over her shoulder. "Dreaming?" she asked, then yawned and wiped a hand across her face.
"Nope, now get up or I'll eat it all." And I would. The smell coming off those plates was making me –
She sat up, yawning and stretching, the 'Got Milk?' slogan pulling taut across her chest. Now I was fully awake. She didn't even notice, looking over at the bedside table. "OH MY GOD!!" she screamed.
"What?" I asked, worried that she was going to say something like; you've got a dead animal on your plate!! It has happened before, when I'd cooked breakfast in bed for this red-haired vegetarian chick – let's just say the reaction I got was not as I'd envisioned as I was cooking the dead animal in the kitchen.
"YOU ACTUALLY MADE BREAKFAST?!?" She stared at me, as though I had grown a couple of extra eyes out of the top of my head.
"Uh, yeah…?"
"No guy has ever done it for me before," she looked up at me, her eyes filling up. What kind of jerks had she slept with, never to have made breakfast in bed for her before? She was the kind who deserved it.
"Oh." Now what was I supposed to do? I hadn't had much experience with crying females. Ones screaming for their life, yes. Ones slapping me across the face, yes. Ones in bed with me – definitely. Crying ones, NO. "Sorry."
"Are you kidding me? Thank you so much! Now I have to do something nice for you…" she glanced around. "Um…yeah, sorry for being so weepy. I'm very emotional in the mornings."
"Why?"
"I don't know." She looked back up at me. "Now what can I do for you?" She thought for a second, and then the cheeky grin I'd seen her give Sharika spread across her face. "I could flash you."
I blinked. Then my imagination took hold, and I swallowed, seeing her take that shirt off and – "What kind of guy would I be for asking payment after making you breakfast in bed?" I asked, acting offended, but at the same time giving her a suggestive look.
"The normal kind." She looked down at the blankets. "You're probably right though." What? NO WAIT! "We shouldn't get involved. I don't think I'm the 'forever' type, and neither are you. And seeing how Sharika and Sam will be getting married, we'd have to see a lot of each other, and if we – you know – it would be awkward."
"Yeah," I said, confused as to how we'd got onto this topic. How long had she been thinking about it? Longer than since she'd suggested flashing me, I'm sure. "But –"
"This looks delicious," she interrupted, and grabbed the plate with six pancakes on it.
"That's – never mind. But you'll be the one making me more pancakes."
"I will." She took a bite, then groaned. "But I doubt I could cook it as good as you. I always burn stuff that I cook in pans. Or should I say, try to cook?" she took another bite and sighed.
I walked around the beds and sat on the second one, grabbing my plate. I took a bite too, one about three times larger than hers. "Did good, didn't I?"
"Won'erful," she muttered, through a mouthful of toast and bacon. She closed her eyes, and her head lolled back against the pillows. "Heavem."
I watched her and smiled. Then I looked down at my plate, thinking over what she'd said. She was probably right – I wasn't the 'forever' type as she'd put it. I didn't stay with women more than a night, maybe a night and a morning if I didn't have a demon hunt to get to. The longest relationship I'd had was with Cassie, and look how that had turned out. She was getting married soon, in July I think she'd said. What she'd said was right, she couldn't wait for hell to freeze over – for me to come back and want to stay in one place with her. It wasn't me.
Whatever me was.
But that didn't mean Lauren and I – we could still –
I looked over at her, taking a dainty bite of the shriveled brown pear, as though it was the best piece of fruit she'd ever tasted, and she was the queen at a banquet, rather than an empath having a hastily made breakfast in bed. She may not know it yet, but she was definitely the forever type. She needed a guy who would stick around, and could understand her and her gift; not me.
A funny feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I told myself this.
Lauren was finished eating. She faced me, placing her plate, knife and fork on top of the blankets. "This was the best breakfast I've ever, ever had," she said, completely serious.
"It was my company, I'm known for my 'best ever ever'-ness," I started to say, but she interrupted me, by planting a warm, soft kiss on my cheek. "Thank you," she said, getting up, and picking up her plate and cutlery, suddenly practical. "I'm going to go cook you some more pancakes, and though they won't be as good as yours, how many would you like?"
"Um, six?" I answered, my attention still on the exact spot where she'd kissed me. It was tingling.
"Right," she nodded, and left the room.
She'd smelled like roses, and baby powder.
I shook my head, and ate the rest of my breakfast. The whole idea of me and Lauren was ridiculous in the first place – we didn't like each other that way, we were barely friends. It was just Sharika's and Sam's effect on us, that's all.
And if I wanted to start a relationship like that with her, I would. And she'd want to too.
Not that I did. I mean, she was hot, and I was definitely attracted to her – in an objective sot of way – but we didn't suit.
I sat on the bed for a little while after I'd finished eating, waiting for her to come back. Then I decided to see what she was up to.
Sitting here waiting to be waited on wasn't my style.
Besides, it was Lauren. She could have hurt herself in any number of ways by now.
∞∞
Lauren
He made me breakfast. In bed.
The litany repeated itself inside my head over and over, with each step I took away from him, into the kitchen. He made me breakfast. In bed.
I added more pancake batter to the heated pan. Six? Only four would fit. But that didn't matter, I could do more. I'll put some toast in too – He made me breakfast. In bed.
The only time I'd ever received breakfast in bed was last year on my twenty-second birthday. Sharika and Joyee and Fiona had burst into my room, singing and laughing, overfull plates in their hands. They'd jumped onto the bed with me, and we'd eaten there, talking and giggling and just being us. But that was before the demon stuff.
I felt more tears fill my eyes, and placed my hands on the bench to steady me. Why was I such a sook in the morning? I mean, there was nothing to even cry about. Yes, he was a gorgeous, thoughtful, challenging guy – but he was out of reach. Even if I had wanted to start a relationship with him – which I didn't – I couldn't, because he wouldn't want to stay with me, and then I'd be bitter whenever we saw each other again, when we came in contact with each other through Shar and Sam. And what about Joyee and Fiona? How could I think of anything, anything, but getting them back?
I shouldn't have left them, the guilty voice that had occupied my brain since that day spoke up again. I could have done something. I left them defenseless. And for what? No reason at all, but to satisfy myself.
So I had to keep my mind on the goal – I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by anything. Or anyone. Why am I even thinking about this anyway? It's not like I was planning on sleeping with him or anything. I mean, I'm a virgin, which hardly anyone knew or suspected. Everyone assumed I'd lost it years ago – I was that time of person, very sensual. At least, that's what most shocked people said when they found out.
Back to the original question – maybe I was getting my periods. That must be it, plus my empath powers going all whack. I was just getting Sam and Sharika's emotions and relating them to Dean. It was nothing else. It couldn't be.
Mind off this. Focus on the demon. The demon.
But Dean kept re-entering my head.
I recalled my dream from last night. He'd carried me into bed, and I'd told him to kiss me, and he had. But that was just a dream. The only time he'd kissed me was the tissue incident, and that was because it had looked like I was throwing myself at him. What red-blooded male wouldn't react?
"Lauren?"
I spun around, arms coming up to shield myself. Reflex action – this whole demon hunt thing had me more on edge than I was willing to admit to anyone, especially myself. I couldn't admit weakness.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh," I said, staring up at Dean, and lowering my arms. I hoped he couldn't read my face. "I'm fine."
"You're crying again."
"I am?" A hand went up to my face; before it got there, Dean's pushed it aside and stroked a tear away from my cheek.
"Yeah." My breath left me. Why…? "Lauren, about what you said earlier?" I closed my eyes, his hand still stroking my cheek rhythmically. Up…down…up…down. I felt him step closer. "I'm ignoring it." And I wanted to kiss him. So much I could taste it. But I –
I felt myself starting to melt into him. His hands cupped my face –
POP
The toast was finished. I jerked myself away, and scrambled over to the toaster. Despite my great desire to be kissing him, I was glad for the interruption. It meant I could avoid such things, and eventually I could build up a resistance to him and keep my mind where it needed to be – a.k.a., not in his pants. "Get back into bed," I whispered hoarsely over my shoulder, and started buttering the toast.
"Laur-"
"Please."
I heard him leave, and paused for a second, collecting myself. I couldn't allow myself to be distracted. From now on, I told myself, keep it strictly friendly and business like.
I headed back into the bedroom with the toast, smiling as though nothing was going on. "Here you go!" I said cheerily, putting the toast on his plate, and bouncing onto the beds next to him. I feel like I'm forgetting something though.
"Um, Lauren?"
"Yes?" I asked, hoping it wasn't anything to do with the whole – you know.
"What's burning?"
SHIT!
I jumped back off the bed and out of the room, Dean following. The kitchen was starting to fill up with smoke from the pancakes, which were flaming. "Open the window –" I coughed to Dean, grabbing the pan. He did so, and started to try and wave the smoke out the window. I turned the tap on, and held the pan beneath the spurting water.
A minute later we looked down at the gently steaming, black, soggy remains of what were supposed to be normal flavored pancakes. They looked like hamsters that had been left in a burning house. Dean stared at me, and I bit my lip, looking up at him. "You really can't cook, can you?"
"Only when it's stuff in a pan," I reiterated, for the fifth time, and grabbed the peanut butter. He'd probably want it for his toast.
"Right," he said, shaking his head, and heading once more for the bedroom. I trailed him, my eyes on my feet. We sat back on the beds, and I put the peanut butter on the floor, turning to watch Dean eat the toast.
At least it wasn't as burnt as the pancakes.
∞∞
Sharika
"It's a party for a modeling company," I told Sam. As soon as we were done…getting distracted and got dressed into fresh new clothes, I had turned on the laptop I owned and looked up the address on the internet. "The guy who owns it is name Clause Shifter." I was lying down on my stomach, in bed, with my feet in the air.
Clause Shifter? Why does that name sound so familiar? I know I've heard it before somewhere.
"So we're going to hang out at a party full of models? Dean's gonna love that!" Sam joked next to me; he was lying on his back, his head towards the laptop. He looked over my shoulder and glanced at the screen.
"OH!" I gasped as soon as the realization hit me. "I worked for him once!"
"Who? Clause?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
I shifted my gaze from the laptop screen to his face. "When I went to England, I modeled for awhile. I needed a job," I explained. "And I met him there; he was working there as a director."
"When does it start?" he wanted to know.
"At, umm," I checked the screen. "Seven thirty. Do you have a have a suit to wear?"
He nodded, his face grew the slightest bit red. "What about you, do you have a dress?"
"No. The thing is, with Clause, there's a certain type of dress code for women." I informed him, frowning at the thought. "I, we need to go shopping." I said, referring to Lauren and myself.
I buried my head in his shoulder and groaned. I did not want to do this! Clause was an okay guy himself, a bit presumptuous at times but okay non-the-less, it's just that the models he hires...they're not exactly known for their kindness. They were self obsessed and extremely critical. There were only two types he hires, the big busted, bright eyed, low intelligence, annoyingly chipper, perky models that seemed to flounce and bounce around everywhere, and then there was the mega-bitches, huge ego, condescending and anorexic/bulimic, sometimes even both.
I was surprised when I had first met those…people. I didn't expect everyone to be nice but still, I never thought that this level of bitchiness existed. But then again, I always surround myself with nice people.
I disliked most of them almost instantly and learnt to stay out of their way. They would walk all over you if you gave them the slightest chance to do so. I was just glad that a few of my experienced friends were there; they helped me adapt and conform to that bizarre society, so I became a mega-bitch there myself, well not totally, I just became more domineering and less prone to forgiveness to the other models. Strangely, I never acted that way to anyone outside the Dome (what we called the building where we worked).
I took a deep breath in and breathed out; at a party, which I assume will be similar to todays, I made three chippers and two mega-bitches cry. I felt horrible afterward and desperately wanted to apologize but my friends forbade me from doing so, 'It'll be a sign of weakness!' they exclaimed. And they were right.
"Reluctant to go?" Sam asked, as he stroked my hair.
I nodded. I rolled over a little until my body was on top of his. I picked up my head and looked directly into his eyes. "It's just that, when I'm with these people, the models I mean, I turn…nasty."
"Nasty?" Sam laughed, causing the corner of his eyes to crinkle.
I sighed. "Yes, I'm just a different person around them, you have to be or they won't treat you as an equal."
"Models?"
I dropped my head back down onto his chest, closed my eyes and groaned inwardly. "You won't understand!" I talked into his chest.
"What?" his hand stopped stroking my hair and lowered down to my back, they then resumed their previous actions.
"You won't understand," I repeated after I raised my head again. "You just have to have been there." I glimpsed at the clock on the laptop screen. "We should tell Lauren and Dean."
Using my palms, I lifted myself off him and stood on the floor. He didn't move a muscle.
"Do we have to?" he rolled over to his side, looking up at me. I could practically hear the reluctance to leave the bed in his voice.
I bent down until I was at eye level with him. "If we don't go now we'll end up getting distracted again."
"I don't mind," He grasped my upper arm and pulled me back, until I was on top of him again. "Do you?"
∞∞
Sam
We rolled over, Shar on top of me, laughing. I reached up and kissed her mouth, my hands sliding into her hair. When we broke apart she smiled down at me and said, "We should probably go see the blonde one and your brother. We've gotten distracted quite enough now, and we don't want them coming to visit us, do we?"
How can she think about Lauren and Dean now?
I sighed, and sat up, reaching for my shirt, which had managed to land just next to the bed. The rest of our clothes were scattered all over the room. Sharika's shirt was hanging from the lamp, my jeans hung from the door handle. I hadn't noticed until now.
I located my boxers on the window ledge, and we both got dressed, laughing as we discovered where our clothes had gotten to in our rush. I tried not to touch her too much, I knew it would just lead to more 'getting distracted' – as she'd put it. When we were fully dressed, we left the room, remembering to grab the soggy cold pancakes, and headed over to number 29. Just outside of it we heard –
"– NOT BURNT, OKAY?! SORRY I CAN'T COOK TOAST AS WELL AS YOU CAN!!"
Sharika and I looked at each other. "Lauren," we stated in unison, and I opened the door for her. We entered, leaving the pancakes on the coffee table, and made our way into the bedroom, where the source of all the yelling derived from. Lauren was yelling at Dean, and he was calmly inspecting the piece of toast he obviously found lacking.
"If you don't want it, I'll have it!!" Lauren said, and tried to snatch the toast away from him. He dodged her hand and took a bite of the toast, then grimaced.
"No, I'll eat it. I'm still starving since I didn't get to eat any more than four pancakes."
"I ALREADY –" Suddenly Lauren noticed us in the doorway. She seemed to swallow her words, blushed, then sat back against the pillows. "Hi, guys," she said, quite serenely for a person who'd just been shouting about toast.
Dean looked up, and grinned at us. "Hey."
Sharika looked around and sniffed the air. "Is something burning?" she asked, looking around worriedly. I sniffed too, and noticed it.
"Is there?"
"NO!!" Lauren denied, and Dean started laughing. "It was just – the pan – there was – ARRGH!" She grabbed the toast out of Dean's hands and held it out of his reach. "Now there will be no more complaining! Go make your own toast!"
"Guys, we have to –" I started to tell them about the fact that Sharika and I were engaged, but Dean interrupted, trying to snatch the toast back.
"Give it back! I already took a bite!"
"So what?!" Lauren asked, and she gave Dean a challenging look. Then she held the toast in front of her face, and licked it slowly, all the way up one side.
"I can't believe you just did that," Dean said, staring at her. Then he shrugged, and tried to get his toast back again.
"Uh, guys –"
"Back, beast, back!!" Lauren shrieked, as Dean's movements threatened to throw her off the bed. "It's mine now!"
"I made you a whole –"
"That was then, this is –"
"GUYS!?!"
"You could at least give me the toast, seeing as how you killed the pancakes!!"
"If you were a gentleman you'd stop bringing that up! And it was only because they were in a PAN!!"
"I never said I was a –"
"HELLO?!?" I shouted, but they were too absorbed in their fight to notice. I looked down at Sharika helplessly, and shrugged. "They're not listening."
"IT'S TOAST!! GET OVER IT!!"
"It's my toast, give it back!!"
"GET OVER IT!!"
"Give it back!!"
"We're engaged," Shar said simply, with a completely serious face, and at her usual volume.
"I don't think they heard," I whispered to her, as Lauren and Dean continued to struggle over the toast. He had a grip now, and they were both on their knees on the bed trying to wrench it away from each other.
"Just wait," she said peacefully, and watched Lauren and Dean like they were a movie.
"GIVE IT BACK!" Lauren was the one shouting that now.
"I thought you said to get over it!?"
"GIVE – IT – WHAT?!?!" Lauren suddenly screeched, letting go of the toast and facing us. This action caused Dean to fall off the bed, due to the force of his previous tugging, and his surprise. I laughed at him as he sat up, crumbs clinging to his hair and the mangled bit of toast (now completely inedible) clutched in his hand. "ENGAGED?!?!" Lauren launched herself off the bed towards Sharika, who tried to get away, but failed. "OH MY GOD!!" Lauren screamed, and started jumping up and down, still hugging Sharika – who after a couple of seconds started laughing, and returned the gesture. "You're engaged!! ENGAGED!!"
Dean and I stared at each other, then back at the girls, slightly scared. We weren't really used to this kind of behavior. And it was a guy's worst nightmare – screaming women.
Lauren let go of Sharika, and her eyes were suspiciously glittery as she turned and looked at the two of us. Her lip quivered, and then she grabbed me and hugged me too. She started to cry into my chest.
"Lauren?" Sharika asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"
I patted her awkwardly on the back. "Yes," she said, in between sobs. "I'm j-just so hap-py for-r you-u!!"
After a while she let go of me and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She then reached up, took hold of my face and brought it down to her level. (Quite a bend for me, seeing as how she was exactly Sharika's height.) She then kissed me on both cheeks and whispered in my ear – "Hurt her, and I will hunt you down boy. You will never, ever be safe. I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course." Then she let go, smiled at me with her sweet and innocent smile, and yelled – "CONGRATULATIONS!!!"
Dean then got his turn to congratulate us, as Lauren hopped back onto the bed and started eating the broken piece of toast he'd left there.
He hugged Shar, picking her up off the ground, and swinging her around. She laughed, hugging him back, and despite myself I felt a little stab of jealousy. Dean was so easy with women, I could tell he and Sharika would become quick friends in a way that would take Lauren and me much longer – and not because of her. But then, I was glad too. I wanted Dean to accept her into the family, for there was no guarantee that Dad would.
As long as he kept his hands off her – I was fine with it.
He let go of her and turned to me. We stared at each other for a second, and then as one moved forward and gave each other an awkward hug.
∞∞
Lauren
My mouth opened, dropping a piece of half-chewed toast onto the bedspread.
That is how shocked I was.
They were hugging. Hugging. Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam. They were hugging.
Sharika and I stared at each other for a second, and then went back to watching them. I wouldn't get a chance to see it again – although Sharika would, anytime she wanted. Damn seer powers.
They clapped each other on the back a few times, then let go, giving each other uncomfortable smiles.
Dean opened his mouth, and I waited for his trademark smartass comment. Instead, he closed it, shook his head and smiled more easily. Then he came and sat next to me on the bed.
"You didn't ruin it!" I said, and grinned at him. "I'm surprised."
"What can I say?"
"Promise that you'll hug more often."
"Why of course!"
"Now you be sarcastic," I said, and rolled my eyes.
I mean, Sharika and I hardly ever hug, but we did it more often than these two did. I was amazed – people who were even more awkward about public affection than Sharika.
I'd never thought it was possible until now.
∞∞
Sam
"What happened? Why did you ask Lauren to make your breakfast?" Shar asked curiously, obviously wondering why Dean would do such a thing.
"I-" he started to say, but was interrupted by Laurens menacing look. "Umm…"
"Yeah?" I said, my thumb running over Sharika's fingers as I held her small hand in mine.
He averted his gaze away from Lauren and looked back at me. "Where were you two all this time, we've been up for awhile now." He changed the subject, forcing a grin. Which was hard under his circumstances.
"We were distracted by the chocolate," Sharika answered. I looked at her, catching her eye. We shared a smile before returning our attention back to Dean.
∞∞
Lauren
I turned away from Dean to look at Sharika and Sa- I mean, the affianced couple, only to see them prove the point I'd been trying to tell myself all morning.
They were giving each other one of those secretive, couple-y smiles that made the singles around the couples wish they were in a relationship, and latch onto the nearest member of the opposite (or not – whatever floats your boat) sex.
HELLO!?!? I felt like yelling at them. THIS IS WHAT IS MAKING ME WANT TO BE ALL COUPLE-Y WITH DEAN – SO STOP ALREADY!!!
But it was just too cute. I was so happy for Sharika.
∞∞
Dean
See, now that's what I'm talking about.
Sam and Shar were giving each other this steamy, romantic look. It made the temperature in the room go up by about ten degrees Celsius.
How was I supposed to go around untouched by it? That sort of look was making me think I have feelings for Lauren, when I would normally realise in a blink that that was completely ridiculous.
So, please, keep it for when you're alone, would you?
∞∞
Lauren
"I want chocolate, give me chocolate, I DEMAND chocolate!" I held out my hand towards them.
And then they burst into laughter…and more…and more…and more. What's so funny?
"Lauren-" Sharika managed to choke out in her fits of laughter. "Sam took care of it, oh, and we made you pancakes!"
"Really?!" I bounced out into the lounge room, Dean following me. I was greeted by the sight of pancakes that looked worse then mine, if that was even possible, which I hadn't thought it was until I saw the pancakes they had made. What were they thinking?! I'm not going to eat that, and I doubt that Dean-
"Oh, looks good!" I heard Dean exclaim as he grabbed a plate and piled the pancakes onto it. He struck a fork into the pancakes and took a huge bite of three at once. He chewed with every sign of enjoyment. Ugh, how could he do that? HOW!
"Oh, by the way," Sharika said from behind me. "I looked up the address on the internet and found out where we are going."
"Dude, how could you eat that? Even I couldn't eat them after I made them," Sam said. He stood, staring at Dean with a disgusted expression on his face.
Dean only looked relieved as he spat his mouthful back onto the plate. "Thank god, I thought Sharika made them so I thought I had to eat them!" He placed the plate back on the table.
"Uh, Dean," I interjected. "I thought Sharika made them and I wasn't going to eat them."
"I can cook you know!" Sharika cried out indignantly. "Why does everyone automatically presume that I'm a bad cook?"
"Becau-" I started to say.
"You're a chipper!"
"What?" I asked Shar, confused by whatever she was going on about. "A chipper?"
Sharika sat down on the lounge, and affected a wise expression. "Sit down, my children. Now I shall tell you a tale, of magic and wonderment –"
"Sharika, just spit it out. I don't want the wise storyteller spiel from you," I interrupted.
"You curb my fun all the time Lauren."
"What can I say? I'm a fun-curber. Besides, you tried to trick me into eating those pancakes. You know how much I love pancakes."
"Anyways," Sharika resumed, shooting me a dirty look. "Listen. The address the informant gave us is for a party being held tonight, for a modeling agency."
"That should make you happy, eh Dean?" Sam spoke up, giving Dean a grin. I rolled my eyes, and then realized that Dean surrounded by starving (in more ways than one) models was probably not a good thing. I mean, where would I sleep when he brought one of them back?
At least I can depend on one person, that wonderful, special, Lauren-y person everyone knows and loves –
"I used to work for the guy hosting that party, and he will definitely remember me, so we'll have no trouble getting in."
- and I especially love her, she's such a beautiful person, and I would marry her, if you could marry yourself, but you can't because that would just be –
"Why?" Dean asked, giving Sharika one of his looks – one that conveyed 'what the hell did you do'?
- weird, and crazy, and what if you ran out of bread, and you were busy, you couldn't ask yourself to go down to the corner store and get you some, because that wouldn't make any sense –
"Never mind that, you'll see tonight. Sam said you two have suits already – but Lauren and I need to go shopping for our dresses," Sharika informed the males.
"Right, well we'll just…" Dean and Sam looked at each other, at a loss.
- because you yourself were busy, but that doesn't mean that I love Lauren any less, and how was I supposed to satisfy myself at night, unless I got a dildo, but I don't want a dildo that doesn't vibrate –
"Lauren, you do realize that we can hear you?" Sharika interrupted my rant.
OHhhh. I hadn't even realized I was talking out loud.
"Why were you talking about loving yourself and dildos?" Dean asked, grinning at me. "Wait, wait, let me get the visual." He paused, while I stared at him open mouthed. "Yeah, now go on."
"I was talking about loving myself and dildos for the same reason – I'm desperate!!" I said, pretending to swoon. "I need a big strong man to –"
But then I started laughing, and couldn't continue. This was because Sharika was giggling too, for some reason or other, and then Sam interrupted us with, "What's so funny?"
Sharika looked up, trying to stop herself, and said, "Let's just say it involves sleeping-wear water balloons filled with bright red paint, and certain other spiteful bitches, who thought it was perfectly mature to –"
I controlled myself, breathing in deeply and calmly, and interrupted before Shar could start a rant on about bitches and the Dome. "So, shopping?!" I asked, joyous. I do love to shop.
Dean looked confused at Sharika and her rant, which contrasted with Sam's complete look of understanding. My god. Does he know more about her than I do or something? Because, I don't know what she's on about. About her trip to England she only mentioned the Dome, some pizza joint, and her friend David who'd died, to me.
What else was there?
"Yes, we need dresses. Nothing we have is appropriate for Clause."
"Claus? Like Santa? Cool."
"Not like Santa Lauren," Sharika said, giving me a condescending look.
"She still believes in Santa?" Dean asked, turning to Sam.
"Sharika…?" I asked, giving my best friend an unsure look, my voice quavering. (I was only being playful – but they didn't have to know that. Of course Santa isn't real.)
Sharika caught onto my act, and played along by giving Sam and Dean an anxious look, and saying hurriedly and reassuringly to me (looking scared), "Of course Santa is real, Lauren!"
"Good, Sharika, because I just couldn't bear the thought of living in a world without Santa Claus!!" I burst into dramatic tears, and wrapped my arms around myself. Gently stroking my back and rocking myself back and forth I said, "Its okay Lauren, I'm here for you, don't cry…I love you Lauren!!"
Sharika cracked up, as did I, at the expression on the Winchester brothers' faces.
"Okay…"
"You do realize we're just playing around?" I asked them, raising my eyebrows, and wiping my face free of tears. "Jeez."
"Shopping?" Shar asked me.
"Shopping."
"Yeah… do we want to go with them?" Dean asked Sam, looking at us. Sam doesn't, he wants to stay with Sharika the whole day, because he loves her so much. Aww… How the hell am I not supposed to conflict my emotions, with this going around like some sort of flu!?! STUPID EMPATHY AND STUPID SAM AND SHARIKA AND – "Yeah, we do," Dean decided for both of them.
"Right," I said, and looked at the three of them. "Now, I'm going to go get dressed…the three of you stay here, no matter what peculiar urges you may have to follow me. Stay."
"We get it Lauren," Sharika said. "Have you packed your things?" she asked, turning to Sam.
"Pack? Things?" I parroted, emphasizing those two words as much as I could. WHAT!?!
Sam shook his head. "Almost done, Lauren, we're swapping rooms now."
AN: Thanks for all your support guys! It thrilled us to no end to know how much you guys are backing this story! Hope you enjoyed this update! Reviews are love, as ever!
