Chapter 6.
Flashback.
Iris had several episodes of regret over the following days. Twice she regretted doing the whole thing at all. The whole going out thing and exchanging numbers and paying for a date to be fair. But more often than not she found herself regretting that she'd scheduled the date on Friday, which seemed to be very far away indeed.
She missed him, especially since she didn't see him at the coffee shop on any of the mornings. Maybe he and Sam had needed to go out of town for work? She knew he would let her know if he couldn't make it so she held out until Friday lunch time.
She was undecided what to do. She was eager to see him again, she really like Dean. But she was too proud and insecure to put herself out there when Dean might not be as interested as her, or as desperate for company. After all he did have Sam. And with that face? She was sure he'd had plenty of the other kind of company too. It didn't help with her insecurity at all.
But over her sandwich and some paperwork on her desk on Friday she pulls out her phone and scrolls down to find Dean's contact. She types out a quick message.
'Haven't seen you in a few days, still on for tonight?'
There, done.
She sighs and lays her phone down on the desk in front of her and turns back to her paperwork. She feels better and relieved to have it off her chest, but also more twisted up inside then ever. What if he didn't text back? What if she had misread the signs? What if he met someone better then her? The stress of the situation was starting to tell on her.
She nearly drops her cup of tea when a message beeps in on her phone. She leans over the screen and presses the home button to view the message. The phone lights up and Dean's name looks back at her, under which is a message from him.
Dean: 'Me and Sam went out of town on business, I missed the coffee shop...and you.'
She smirks even as another message beeps in.
Dean: 'Of course we're still on for tonight, what would you do without me?"
She types a quick message back.
Iris; 'Keep thinking that if it makes you feel better. Are you going to pick me up?'
Dean; 'Of course I'm picking you up, couldn't pay me to ride in anything other than Baby, besides nothing but the best for you. 7:00?'
Wow, she thinks, he took the trouble to capitalize 'Baby". Maybe she should be slightly concerned about the obsessive relationship he has with his car. She smiles as she types out her next message, she might not know him that well but she knows she'll get a good rile out of him for this.
Iris; 'Yeah, that sounds good. Can I drive tonight since it's my date?'
It takes a few moments longer for his next message to come in.
Dean: 'I like you a lot, just not that much yet.'
She snickers.
Iris: 'Lol, I'm just kidding, of course I don't want to drive your car. I'm afraid of what you'd do to me if I messed her up.'
She waits a little anxiously for his answer on this one. It comes right away.
Dean: 'I'm scared of what I would do too, lol!'
She laughs out loud at that one.
Iris: 'Alright, well I'll see you tonight then.'
Dean: 'Hold your horses, where are we going?'
Iris: 'Can't tell you, it's a surprise. No weird food allergies or anything I need to know about, right?'
Dean: 'No allergies. At least give me a hint.'
Iris: 'No hints.'
Dean: 'How am I supposed to know what to wear if you don't even give me dress code?'
Iris can nearly hear that adorable pout in the typed out words.
Iris: 'Dean, I didn't know you were such a fashionista?'
Dean: 'What can I say? You bring it out in me.'
He should be thankful he can't see her huge eye roll, she thinks.
Iris: 'Something like what you wore the other night will be fine, it's just casual.'
Dean: 'That's so revealing.'
She smiles at the words smacking of sarcasm.
Iris: 'Good luck Sherlock, see you tonight.'
Dean apparently relents.
Dean: 'Alright, see you tonight and looking forward to it.'
Iris: 'Me too.'
She's grinning like crazy as she opens the store back up for the shortened Friday work afternoon. He really does like her! She's excited and probably going to make a fool out of herself. But Dean was funny and a touch awkward and she's very afraid she's falling for him.
...
The days dragged by for Dean, even when he and Sam drove to the next state to take care of a couple of rogue vamps who fell off the straight and narrow. It was hard to keep his excitement hidden from Sam, but he was scared to jinx this thing he had going on. Scared if he said something, if someone more knew then just him that it would coming crashing down around his ears like every other good thing he'd ever had.
So he bit his tongue and tried not to drive Sam crazy with his nervous tells and his loud music and reckless driving. It felt good to end some evil, even though the pair of vamps had been a young couple who had been each other's down fall and had ended bloody and gory...much to Dean's joy. He hardly ever got to let off steam with violence anymore.
He and Sam had stumbled into the bunker late Thursday night and had fallen into bed dirty and hungry, but thank you God, their beds were still there in their home. It was something they still remembered, never having a place to call their home, to have somewhere to belong to. They never took the bunker for granted, they never took the fact they were still alive for granted.
Damn, Dean thinks. They're getting wise in their old age.
Friday morning comes all too soon.
He rolls over in his bed to find his phone where the alarm is going off, but instead of more bed, Dean feels nothing but air and let's out an 'oomph' as he hits the cold floor. Taking that as a sign, he gets up on his knees and fishes through his bedclothes to find his phone. He sighs as he hits at the screen desperately trying to stop THAT SOUND.
Dean face plants in his mattress as soon as the alarm is silenced. His knees are still cold and sore on the floor but he can hardly move, think, or get his eyes open let alone get up to get back in bed or get in the shower. He turns his face away from his mattress to look at his door as he hears shuffling footsteps coming his way.
Sam's tall, wide-shouldered silhouette fills the doorway. He's rubbing at his eyes petulantly and yawning as he nearly falls on his face tripping over Dean's bag as he heads straight for the other side of Dean's bed.
"Dude," he whines. "You forgot to turn off your alarm?"
Sam lets himself fall straight into his brother's bed, echoing Dean's oomph as he face plants in his pillow. He inhales deeply about to sigh contentedly. Dean's pillow smells rotten. He guesses that must be what you smell like after you let vampire guts and blood marinate on you for twelve hours.
"Ugh, you stink." Dean beats him to it, turning his head away, disgusted.
Sam huffs, throwing Dean's pillow to the floor and burying his face in the slightly fresher smelling sheets that were underneath it. He brings up his arms and wraps them around his head protectively. He's breathing deep in just a few moments, asleep once again.
Dean raises his head and sighs, frowning as he looks at the giant Sasquatch now taking up his mattress. That was that. He was most definitely not about to climb into Sam's hard-as-rocks bed, that was with all probability just as smelly, if not more so. (Sam sweated way more than him.)
He heaves another sigh and then uses the bed to pull himself to his feet. He groans under his breath as he feels the stiff muscles object. But once straight and stretching his back he does feel better and a little more awake. He grabs some clean clothes from his drawers and heads for the bathroom, making sure to close the door before tuning on the light so Sam could sleep on.
He turns on the water, leaving the temperature as hot as possible. The steam begins to cloud the air and soon Dean's breathing in the warm, moist air relieving some of the pressure building up starting to give him a headache. He strips and steps under the scalding stream, rolling his shoulders under it, feeling the muscles rippling and knotting under his skin, the hot water soothing them and making Dean feel like a halfway decent person again.
He picks up a clean wash cloth and rubs his bar of soap over it, coating and lathering himself up. God, it felt so good. Fingers run rough through his hair and over his scalp washing away all the filth and grittiness. He washes away all the physical evidence of the releasing violence and the successful hunt. The shower leaves him even more relaxed and he towels himself down until his skin tingles a little bit. He pulls on an old pair of worn jeans and his softest t-shirt, and pair of thick socks.
He runs the towel over his hair one last time then turns off the bathroom light as he slips out and walks blindly across his room and then out the door, shutting the door behind him softly. Sam rubs his face into the sheets but other then that doesn't stir. Dean smiles at his hair falling in his face and across his own sheets. He makes such a pretty picture.
Dean snickers all the way to the kitchen where he begins brewing a pot of coffee and frying himself an egg and finding a blueberry bagel Sam had tried to hide from him. He laughs some more at his brother's expense as he enjoys his breakfast in the quiet bunker.
Sam makes an appearance somewhere around nine o'clock, his hair still mostly rogue. He barely acknowledges Dean's presence as he pours himself a cup of coffee and carries it with him back to his room. Dean follows, Sam pulls out some clothes and then goes to the bathroom pulling out a towel and wash cloth.
"Imma wash the sheets, alright?" Dean says, already stripping Sam's bed.
"Okay," Sam says yawning once again. "Stay out, I'm getting in the shower."
"Like I wanna see that horror show," Dean grumbles, shaking the pillows out of their cases.
"Whatever," Sam grumbles back, sounding a lot more fond and amused then he meant to. He shuts the door a little harder just for good measure. Dean chuckles.
"Shut up," Sam says, just before he turns on the shower.
It's twelve o'clock and Dean's in the laundry room sorting through clothes, switching their sheets into the dryer and starting a load of jeans and plaid and socks and underwear when Iris's text message beeps in. His phone vibrates on the top of the washing machine nearly scaring him to death.
He grabs it about to send Sam a text to remember when he realizes it's not Sam's name but Iris's as the contact. He blushes when he realizes his heart skips a VERY tiny beat. He leans against the dryer as their conversation passes.
He's quick to clear any misunderstandings about him not being there, or not wanting to go. Iris was a pretty good at hiding stuff, but he's got a suspicion she's not quite as strong and secure as she lets on. He knows the drill. Knows sometimes pretending to be strong and good enough is the best you can do.
He doesn't understand how Iris can even begin to think that she wasn't enough. She was the most extraordinary woman he'd ever met, she was gentle and kind, but smart and she wasn't going to let anyone pull one over on her...he really respected that. She stood up for herself and knew how to use words to her advantage, she wasn't afraid to work things to her advantage.
On top of all this the more he was around her the more beautiful he found her to be. It grew as they grew to know each other more. He'd found himself several times wanting to run his fingers through that long dark brown hair and let it fall in cool strands through his fingers. He could have fallen into those warm brown eyes a thousand times over, he loved it when they caught the light and they flashed hazel or green. He loved it how her lips turned up but hardly ever fully smiled. Loved it when he made that full smile make an appearance.
The dresses and the skirts and the high heels he'd assumed he'd find sissy-ish he found himself loving more and more. He loved the contrast she drew to himself. Loved how everywhere he was strong and manly and macho she was soft, and quiet and kind. He loved how in everything she did her strength and confidence and that peace that had first caught his attention seemed to animate from her in her unassuming yet sure movements and words.
And her asking to drive the impala? This girl was actually trying to get in his car before his pants. In other words they are basically meant to be.
He finds himself staring at the wall opposite him when Sam stops in the doorway looking around, cocking an eyebrow.
"Dude, are you daydreaming?"
Dean kind of shakes himself and presses start on the washer.
"Shut up," he says, he brushes past Sam leaving him laughing at his back.
When it's time Dean showers again and puts on his nicest pair of jeans, dark wash, and a button up shirt. He neatly rolls up the sleeves and splashes on some cologne. See? He has class too. He ties up his dress boots and pulls the cuffed jeans down over them. He has to say he looks pretty sharp himself. Lastly he pushes his fingers lightly coated in gel through his hair, styling it with the front flipped up a little.
He grabs his coat, keys and wallet and heads out, striding into the library to let Sam know he's taking off. His brother sits in one of the comfy leather seats feet propped of on another. His laptop is resting on his stretched out legs and he's snacking on some health nut chips...they look disgusting.
He glances up, doing a double take when he sees Dean. "Looking to get laid?" He asks, doing the closest thing to a leer Sam Winchester the biggest prude in the world is capable of. It was still a pretty sad attempt.
"Your just jealous," Dean says, pausing in the door heading down to the garage. "See you later, don't wait up."
Sam waves him off and goes back to crunching on chips and looking at his laptop screen. If Dean wasn't ready and so anxious to go he'd have walked over to see what had his brother so interested.
He leaves Sam to it and heads off to the garage, reveling in his car's rumble vibrating up through her seats to him. He turns up his music and points her towards Lebanon, the dark, night road disappearing under Baby's speeding black shape.
...
Iris closes the shop at four o'clock and walks home in the warm afternoon sun. She carries her coat over her arm since the weather was warming up a little early. When she gets home she opens the door and catches the cat before it shoots outside. She pets it and soothes it as she shuts the door behind her.
She opens some of her windows to let in some of the fresh air. She does a little cleaning before starting to get ready. She jumps in the shower to wash off all the sweat and dust from her work day but protects her already curled hair by pinning it on top of her head. Getting out, smelling clean and feeling much better, she rubs herself dry and pulls on a pair of skinny jeans and a navy blue t-shirt.
She listens to music as she applies her make up and let's her hair back down. She pins it half way up with some wisps falling around her face. Next she pulls on her taupe booties and a lace, flower embroidered kimono to go on top of her t-shirt. She clips on her watch and her silver chain necklace with the small diamond pedant.
After spraying on her perfume, she grabs her bag and phone and then sits to wait on her couch, looking over some paper work, and a book auction a few towns over she needs to go to. The clock on her mantle ticks the seconds and minutes away and soon chimes the hour. Dean was about to be here.
She can hear the impala when it turns in at the end of her street, it's rumble nearly vibrates through the quiet neighborhood. She listens as it comes to a stop, stalls and turns off. She hears his boots on her porch and then his firm but polite knock of her front door. She stands and smooths down her clothes, breathing deep once and then walked to the little foyer and unlocked the door and opened it.
Dean stands there in front of her, at her house, looking well, looking amazing and like something that walked out of her dreams. His dark wash jeans and button up are form fitting without being tight, and his eyes are greener in the setting sun as he looks up from wiping his boots on her mat.
His face immediately lights up in a smile as he sees her and she can't help herself either as her lips turn up with his; his smile is kind of contagious with those wrinkles by his eyes. He seems to break from whatever trance he's in after his eyes make a quick trip from her shoes back to her face.
"Hey Iris."
"Hey Dean," she says, her smile taking on a ironic twist.
She isn't so smug though when he steps up into the doorway and leans into her space. He lays the thumb and palm of one hand against her cheek and slips the rest of his fingers under her ear pulling her to him as he bestows a kiss on her cheek. He pulls away but let's his lips ghost over her skin, wandering down towards her neck, making her shiver with his soft exhale of hot air.
He pulls away with a soft smile on his lips, watching the way her pupils shrink from their dilated state as he pulls away, and lets his fingers linger momentarily against her soft skin.
"You look beautiful," he says.
Iris swallows before she can answer. "Thanks," is what she manages out.
"You ready?" He asks, slipping a hand into his pocket.
"Um, yeah," she shoots him a smile, "Let me get my stuff." She turns and walks back to the living room to get her bag. She finds him still standing in the door looking around.
"You wanna come in, see the place?"
He nods, "Yeah, sure."
He follows her in through the foyer. She motions to her right, "There's the living room, and to your left is the dining room, I never really go in there." She leads him into the kitchen, "This is the kitchen, and through there," she points to a cased opening, "Is the back of the house, the bedrooms and the laundry room and stuff."
He nods looking around, "I like it," he says, smiling. "It's...you, it's exactly how I would have excepted it to be...clean." He chuckles.
She laughs too. "Okay, now that you've had the grand tour you ready?"
"Hell yeah," he says following her back through to the front of the house, "I'm driving though, so you gotta tell me where we're going."
"You're such a control freak," she says, as he takes her keys and locks her front door for her.
He shoots her a look and she sighs, "Are you up for driving into Topeka?"
He nods and opens her door for her, "Lots of possibilities in Topeka."
She smirks as he rounds the impala's hood and climbs in beside her. "Well, you have the entire drive to guess."
He pouts and she laughs. "Does that usually work?"
His shoulders slump, and he cranks the car looking dejected that his attempt hadn't been successful. "On Sam? All the time." He chuckles thinking about his little brother. She laughs too, Iris can only imagine all the fun two brothers could have, she remembers with a little heartache her siblings and how they fought and made up almost daily.
Dean drives towards Topeka making the most possibly absurd guesses as to where they're going. Including, McDonald's, a gay strip club, and Hooter's. Iris laughs nearly the whole way there, her mouth aching from smiling.
Once they coast into Topeka she hands Dean her phone with GPS to their destination.
He raises an eyebrow, "The Mediterranean Deli?" He questions, thinking probably no other restaurant could sound less like something he'd like.
She rolls her eyes, "Trust me?"
"Alright..." He says grinning at her. He looks over the map shown on the screen, nearly giving Iris a heart attack.
"You're not even looking at the road!" She screeches, making a grab for the steering wheel.
He laughs, pushing her back towards her seat and handing her phone back having worked out his on way to get to the deli.
"I got it Iris," he laughs, "I've spent more time driving this car than not." He leans towards her as if to reveal a secret, "Baby's got autopilot."
She laughs again feeling the muscles in her face and stomach object. "Stop," she says breathing heavily, "Don't make me laugh anymore it hurts."
He laughs and she's momentarily shocked by the amount of warmth and emotion in his smiling eyes as he looks over at her.
"What?" She asks, as he pulls over onto a parking space on the side of the street.
"Nothing," he shrugs, and jumps out to open her door. She stands and he's close, looking down at her. "I just, you're beautiful when you laugh."
She purses her lips and pushes him away playfully, "That's why you're making me laugh so hard I'm sore."
He shakes his head and takes her hand as they walk down the street towards the restaurant having had to park a little ways down from it. Iris weaves her fingers through Dean's, loving the warmth and the calloused feeling.
Dean smiles down on her, pulling her closer by pressing their hands down against his thigh. Their shoulders bump and nearly their noses. Iris catches a whiff of his cologne. Dean, her perfume...they are both in trouble.
"Okay," he says, sighing, pushing away the last of his laugh. Frankly his stomach muscles were a little crapped too from laughing too much. "What's so good at this Mediterranean Deli that made you plan your date here?"
She cuts her eyes at him, having guessed the name would make him a little leery. "Ever had a lamb burger before?"
He raises his eyes brows, "Lamb burger?"
"I'll take that as a no." She pulls him towards the door, "This is a must for any burger lover." She assures him.
...
Dean had moaned and groaned over the lamb burger in ecstasy. Tzatziki sauce dripping down his fingers to his hands and then to his plate. Iris had enjoyed hers just as much, not having had one for a long time. On the way home they had been too full to laugh hardly at all, but they still found themselves grinning at each other over the lids of their Starbucks coffee.
Dean, a plain black, and Iris, a caramel frappe.
"Is that any good?" He asks, half way home.
"You've never had a caramel frappe?" She asks, then shakes her head, "And you call yourself a foodie."
"Whatever," he returns, "How am I supposed to know a girlie drink is good?"
She shakes her head again, smirking, "Maybe starting by not being sexist."
Dean laughs, "Good point."
"You wanna taste?" She asks, offering her cup to him.
He nods and she holds it up for him as he sucks some of the drink from her straw as one of his hands was on the wheel and the other holding his coffee.
"Huh?" She asks, not sliding back over to her allotted section of the bench seat. "It's pretty good, right?"
He nods, still licking the sweet coldness out of his mouth. "That's amazing!"
"That's what you miss out on being sexist."
"Hey!" He says, elbowing her.
She elbows him back.
"Whatever," he sighs.
"If I can drink black coffee and not endanger my femininity, you can drink a frappuccino without endangering you manliness."
"What are you talking about? Nothing can endanger my manliness." He scoffs, making her chuckle.
"Not even Mediterranean Delis?"
"Hey," he objects, "There were like half the crazy health people in this world in there."
She laughs again, "Yeah, because it's freaking good."
He concedes, it had been excellent.
Iris is sad when Dean stops the impala in front of her house, she doesn't want the night to be over. The moon and lights are sparkling in Dean's eyes that are just a touch bright from the two beers he'd drunk. He's loose and happy like she hasn't seen him yet, and she wants to reach out and touch him.
Dean uncranks the impala and gets out, opening Iris's door for her. She takes the hand he offers her and stands up, leaning back to grab her bag not letting go of his hand. They walk through her yard, to her door in silence both having been subdued by realizing the night was over.
She unlocks her door, and stands with it slightly ajar. She turns to look at him.
"I know tomorrow's Saturday but I have this thing, this book auction. It would be pretty boring, but I thought maybe you would like to go and we could grab some lunch after?"
Dean thinks she looks beautiful standing in the moonlight, looking unsure of herself and holding onto his hand and looking anywhere but his eyes.
"I'd love to go with you," he says softly, crowding her space a little and placing a warm hand at the small of her back pulling her towards him.
Iris lets him mold her body to his, his arm slipping all the way around her, his other hand slipping up into her hair tilting her head just so. It's was like that magical moment when the song starts playing, like when time freezes, when all that matters is what is happening right now.
Dean gently presses his lips to hers, loving the soft warmth beneath his. He feels her arms go up and rest on his shoulders as her fingers gently run into his hair. He parts his lips with a soft exhale of air and licks at her full bottom lip. Her lips part with a soft gasp of her own, and Dean takes the opportunity to kiss her deeper, slipping his tongue along her top lip before nearly falling into the wet heat of her mouth.
Iris gasps as she feels his warm breath on her lips and then the cool wet touch of his tongue, then she feels him pull her against him more firmly, his fingers tightening in her hair. Dean kisses her harder, his tongue slipping from her top lip into her mouth, mapping it out, familiarizing himself with it. She smiles as she leans into his touch, and enjoys the taste of him.
Dean barely keeps back the moan rising in his chest at the heat of Iris's mouth. He can taste the sweetness of the frappe in it and on her tongue, and beneath something purely Iris. A clean, warm taste like a breeze on a summer's afternoon and he can't get enough of it.
He pulls away leaving them both gasping for air a little. He hugs her to him, burying his face in her neck breathing in the scent of her he'd been getting teasing whiffs of all night.
Iris wraps her arms around Dean's neck copying his actions of nosing the soft skin of his neck. He smells like aftershave and the impala and leather, and something else, something else she going to guess is his house or maybe Sam. He smells amazing. She breathes in big breaths of it, wanting to have this for forever if he ever leaves her.
Her lips part as she feels him place an opened mouth kiss on the sensitive skin of her neck, and then he's pulling away, leaning his forehead against hers for a second. Running strong fingers through her hair and then across her cheek bone, his thumb caressing over her bottom lip.
She meets his eyes for a millisecond but it is too scared to believe in the emotion she sees there so she looks away, smiling softly. He chuckles deep in his chest, and she feels it vibrating across their bodies to warm her own chest. She smiles wider, and relaxes her arms from around his neck and lets her hands frame his face for a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to learn what he truly feels and thinks.
He releases her too, and lets his big, warm hands drift down her arms and take hold of her hands.
"Goodnight," he says under his breath.
"Goodnight," she repeats. He squeezes her hands once and then is gone. She watches the impala drive away down the street and waves at his silhouette. Fingers against her hot, slightly swollen lips, she thinks this is a feeling she never wants to forget. She feels foolish and stupid and maybe she's going to get herself hurt but most of all she can't wait to see him again tomorrow.
tbc...
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