So there was last chapter. And I left it where I did. I know the story is a slow-burn so I thought a little action would liven it up. I'm starting to worry about this story. I hadn't really planned on doing any more fanfiction, but I'd had this idea burning. I wanted it to be more popular than it is, because of it being different. I'm getting lots of follows. And don't think I'm not grateful. I just crave feedback. Once I've started something, I don't want to stop, so I'm going to finish this. Its just going to be hard. Reviews are my inspiration and it is actually harder than I thought to write without them. Thank you SO much to my reviewer wideawakepastmidnight for showing me my story isn't quite as dead as I thought it was.
Chapter 11: Heart
~Last Time~
My stomach growled and since no one else was awake, I got up and went into the kitchen to fix myself some eggs. I ate, and took my plate to the sink, and rinsed it off. I heard footsteps, and turned. Dean was there, wearing jeans and his hair was dripping water. He took the few steps across the kitchen, and I found myself pressed between the sink and his body. His lips were hard and demanding against mine, his hands pressing into my hips. And then he was gone, the backdoor slamming behind him as he exited the house through the kitchen.
~Now~
I stood in the kitchen stunned. The water was still running behind me, and I could hear the screen door settling. My feet carried me to the door and I watched Dean stalk over to the Impala. He opened the trunk and after a second pulled a shirt over his head. Then he got into the driver's seat and left, throwing gravel behind him. A few minutes later, I heard thumping down the stairs, and Sam appeared in the kitchen. He looked around. "Where's Dean?" he asked. I indicated out the door.
"He left." I stated simply. It was then that Sam seemed to take in my appearance. His eyes skimmed over Dean's shirt, which barely reached the bottom of my stomach, my breasts the only thing preventing it from being long on my shorter, lean frame. He took in the fact that I was obviously wearing Dean's boxers as shorts. And then his eyes met mine. "Its not what it looks like," I stated firmly. His eyebrow raised, questioning me. Doubting the fact that I was telling the truth. "He walked in on me after I'd gotten out of the shower. I realized that my clothes from yesterday had been worn two days in a row. And he threw these at me. We didn't... we didn't do anything." I'd placed emphasis on the word 'do', but as I thought about the kiss, I felt my face flush. I looked away from Sam, his face still showing disbelief.
I padded into the living room, bare feet cold because of the linoleum. I slipped my shoes on without socks and went out the front door to collect my clothing from the car. I hurried back into the house, and I went up the stairs to the room that I'd occupied every now and again. I changed clothes quickly, and tossed Dean's back onto his bed. Now that I was up and about, I realized my leg didn't really hurt anymore. I pulled off the thing on my leg, actually taking the time to look at it when I had it in my hands. On the inside, of all places, there were instructions for wear. It was called an 'air cast'. Regardless, I took the thing down the stairs with me and to the couch where I'd slept. I folded up the blankets, and sat down on the couch with a book. Some romance novel from my bag of clothing. I'd been working on it in the bit of down time I had. Now I had plenty.
Hours later, Dean comes strolling through the front door, through the den and pointedly not looking at me. He heads into the kitchen, grabs a beer, and goes out the back door. I rolled my eyes. Bobby raised an eyebrow at me, having been in the fluffy armchair when Dean came in. I shrugged my shoulders at him, and stood up. Bobby eyed my ankle for a minute, which I brushed off, and headed into the kitchen to grab more of the vodka, which had been put in the freezer at some point.
Dinner was awkward to say the least. Sam kept shooting pointed looks between the two of us, Dean was pointedly focusing on his food, and Bobby was trying to ignore everything. I collected the dishes, swiping Dean's nearly finished plate from his hands, and taking them to the sink. I started the water, and turned to face the table. Everyone was looking at me. "Disperse," I said tersely. Sam and Bobby headed toward the living room. Dean and I had a stare down. "I'm sorry, were you not finished?" I said sarcastically. His face shut down, and he stood from the table. He headed out the back door, and I shut off the faucet before following him. He stomped off into the junk yard portion of the lot, and I wasn't sure if he was running away from me, looking for a part, trying to get out of earshot of the house, or heading off to destroy something. Regardless of his reasoning, I followed him anyways, and eventually, I rounded a corner to find him waiting for me arms crossed. "What the hell is your problem?" I asked him. I didn't raise my voice. His expression told me he wanted to yell. But he didn't.
"What do you want from me?" he asked. Confusion must have covered my features, because he continued. "And I'm not talking about this morning. I mean, you are always texting us, calling us. Don't you have any other friends you can talk to? Why are you following me around?" he asked.
"Dean... I don't want anything. Even after this morning. You're my friend. And no, I don't have any other friends. And I'm following you because you are making a big deal over something you did. I didn't ask for it. I don't even need it. I don't need anything other than to be healed so I can get back out there. I think you are upset because you made a mistake, and now you are assuming I expect more from you than you are willing to give. So think about this. I expect nothing from you. Ever. I want a friend to talk to. I want a better hunter to give me advice, and maybe a little training since said hunter thinks I suck. I want you to stop being a dick. All things I want. I don't need this," I ranted gesturing between the two of us, to the 6 foot distance between us. My answer seemed to shock him.
"Does Sammy know?" he asked finally. The way he said it clearly showed that 'Sammy' would very much disapprove. Which I'd already guessed.
"He suspects. I didn't, wouldn't, tell him anything that happened between us. That kind of thing is... private," I told him rolling my eyes. "Although with your performance today, I'm going to assume he knows something happened. Good job," I joked. Dean scowled at me.
"And about this morning..." he trailed off. Involuntarily, my eyes drifted over his body. Thinking about the kiss, I began to feel hot all over. I bit my lip, and met his eyes. I could tell he noticed my look.
"You did it," I reiterated. "Whatever your reasoning, it didn't mean anything." A small part of my mind rejected that thought. But only a small part. Dean was very attractive, and I cared about him as a person. Yes, he had made his way into a few of the little fantasies my mind had come up with at night, but its not like I actually wanted to be with him. "Although, am I right in assuming that the reasoning is that fact that men can't seem to resist girls wearing their clothes?" I asked, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. He scoffed, looking away. "Dean..." I started trailing off, deciding how I wanted to word what I wanted to say. "Everyone has needs, physical or otherwise. Even I do. And being on the road, hunting... things, makes it hard for us to meet our needs," I stated. I wasn't sure entirely where I was going with this, so I stopped myself.
"I do just fine," he stated. Of course he did. No wonder Sam didn't seem surprised to find me in his clothes. Just angry. I shrugged at him, walking over to a beat up shell of a car, and sat down. Dean joined me a minute later. We leaned back against the rusty doors, and I stared up at the sky.
"I'm not surprised that you do well. Kind of surprised you seem to have avoided diseases," I teased. He looked indignant, and I laughed. "And um, not that this is going to convince you that I'm not like interested in you or anything," I babbled, unable to stop the words pouring out of my mouth. "We could, um... ever heard of friends with benefits?" My eyes widened, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, not believing I'd suggested what I had. He turned his head to look at me. I took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "Please, please forget that came out of my mouth," I told him. I was mortified, my face hot enough that I knew it was red all over.
"Not likely," he muttered, looking away.
"Believe me when I say how absolutely horrified I am with myself. I don't usually say things like that. I am quitting vodka, pain be damned," I stated, trying to remember how much I'd had today. Apparently I was having word vomit issues, because I continued to talk. "Its just that maybe I haven't been, you know, getting my needs met. And here you are, someone I can guarantee won't expect me to stick around and play girlfriend." I forced my foggy brain and body off the ground. I was too horrified to look back at him. I made my way into the kitchen, up the stairs, and flopped down in my bed.
They left the next day. Didn't say much. Just headed out to go look for some hunts. Wouldn't be back for a while. I didn't need to be a genius to figure out that it was more than likely my fault for the abrupt exit. The first thing I'd done that morning was dump all of my vodka down the sink, so now I was sober, hung over, and ridiculously embarrassed while Bobby just looked at me, like he was waiting for me to come clean. It wasn't happening.
"So..." Bobby said, trailing off. He'd just come in from the den, where I'd heard him trip over something. "You said something about cleaning up a while back?" He looked like it was the last thing he wanted to say. I arched an eyebrow at him. He let out a long breath. "Look, Sam and Dean asked me to keep ya here for a week to make sure you're healed up. And I figure, at least its something for you to do." I smirked, and agreed.
Bobby's cell phone rings one evening. I'd ended up staying longer than a week, the 'project' turning out to be a huge undertaking I couldn't give up on. I was currently looking out the living room window at the full moon, but the silence was cut by the shrill ringing. "What are you talking about Sam?" Bobby said. I turned around, curious about what was going on. "No you can't 'cure' a werewolf," Bobby said. "No severing the bloodline doesn't work, what's going on over there? Sam?" Bobby glanced at his cellphone. "Sam?" he said again. "Alright, bye," Bobby finished, hanging up his phone.
"Curing werewolves?" I asked. Bobby shook his head.
"It can't be done," was all he said, walking out of the den where we'd been. I heard him flip on the tv. I turned back to my 'project' staring at the bookshelves I'd built and stained a dark mahogany color. They'd been pushed up against the wall that had previously held stacks of books and a desk. I set to work filling the shelves by category.
I'd lost track of time, but eventually, the phone was ringing again. Bobby was outside, and his cell was on the coffee table. I glanced at the ID, and saw Dean's name. I answered. "Bobby's phone," I said.
"Cat?" Dean asked, surprise coloring his voice, "hey, let Bobby know we did end up... we... killed the werewolf," he said, and I was surprised to hear sorrow lacing his tone. I bit my lip, wondering what had happened.
"Are you... are you coming back?" I asked, hoping to keep the hopefulness out of my tone. Dean gave me a negative response. "Well, ok then. Be seeing you," I said, and hung up the phone. I delivered the message to Bobby, and hurried to finish the den. I could come back for the rest of the house some other time. I was ready to get back out there.
Another chapter. Probably not a great one, not my best work. (For my best work see my Inuyasha one-shot. That is only good because its a fluffier version of a scene that was already there) As always, read and review, I appreciate any input you may have. I'm even willing to read a flame at this point. I feel like I'm doing poorly here.