Bella and Dean are pretty cute in this one. Just so damn fluffy that it's almost strange.
"My sister will be suspicious. (Gosh, your lips look delicious.) My brother will be there at the door."
December 24, 2008
"All right," says Bella. "Come on then."
"Lemme put pants on first," Dean replies.
He sets Bella on the ground and shuffles around, trying to gather up his clothes. Dean finds his boxers and jeans, but his shirt is nowhere to be found. Furrowing his eyebrows, he leans closer to peer at the ground. It doesn't help that his shirt is black, the carpet is a dark blue, and the only light source in the room is from the starlight and strands of white Christmas lights strung up around the windows. Eventually finding his shirt, Dean tugs it on and then takes Bella's red satin panties. He tucks them in his back pocket for later. (Yeah, he has a bit of a fetish...)
"Have you seen my undies?" says Bella. "I swear they were right here a minute ago!"
"I dunno where they went," Dean says innocently.
She narrows her eyes. "Okay, I feel like you did something with them, but I'm not even going to ask."
She tugs her dress farther down her legs and Dean swallows thickly.
"Goin' commando?"
"Why not? It's just us. Right?"
"I guess.
Bella nods. "You ready?"
"Yep."
"All right. Follow me."
She starts walking out of the room, leaving Dean to stumble behind her as he tries to tie his boots and follow after Bella at the same time. There's a second staircase going straight up, where at the top, sits a door. The staircase is narrow and Dean again, gets a perfect view of Bella's ass, made better by the fact that she isn't wearing anything underneath her dress.
"Would you stop staring at my butt?" says Bella, without so much as a glance behind her.
Dean grins. "It's a sin to have an ass that nice, you know. It could get you into trouble."
With another step, they're at the top, standing in front of the door. Bella turns around a bit and gently skims her fingers across Dean's cheek, nibbling at her bottom lip.
"If you're trouble, I'd say it's worth it, hmm?"
Dean tries not to shiver yet again as she turns back around, pushing open the door.
"You ready?" says Bella.
"For what?"
"Elysium."
With a hand in his, Bella yanks him out the door where Dean ends up on an impressive balcony. It's overlooking a backyard and the sky above him is right there, so close that Dean could touch the moon.
"Awesome," he says. "You can see for miles up here."
Bella's fiddling with something and then she puts a small hand rolled cigarette to her lips. She lights the thing with a lighter that matches her hair color almost perfectly and then takes a drag.
"Want a hit?"
Dean nods, taking it from her fingers. He does a hit and exhales it slowly, watching as it dissipates in the cold night air.
"You roll your own shit?" he asks.
"Why would I not?" answers Bella.
She accepts the joint when Dean hands it to her and sticks it in her mouth. Dean kind of grins at how she looks, just holding it between her teeth like some cowboy chewing on a piece of straw. Finally, Bella takes a puff and another one, until the thing is almost gone.
"Don't be greedy," says Dean, affronted.
Bella rolls her eyes and hands it to him. Dean finishes it off with two more hits of his own and then regards the end of it, not sure what to do. He'd always been the bong or bowl type of recreational weed smoker and only smoked a joint once in his life.
"You can eat it," says Bella. "I didn't use a filter or anything."
Dean stubs the flame out on the railing and pops it into his mouth.
"There's the North Star," remarks Bella, pointing upwards.
"Mhmm," Dean hums.
"The last thing my mamma told me before she died was to always look at the North Star and when it blinks, that means she's watching over me."
His brain is feeling float-y as he cranes his neck to look at the stars. Dean's eyes slide to Bella, who seems transfixed as she gazes upwards, seeming to trace the stars into shapes with her fingers. Dean finds himself just staring at her, as though trying to imprint her image into his head. Dream Bella was just that, a dream (Dean's favorite dream, but still) and this Bella, the real Bella standing next to him is so damn beautiful that he thinks his mind never really has done her justice. She's much more gorgeous and soft in real life than she is in any of his dreams. Dean is losing the battle inside of him as wave after wave of absolute need pulses in his blood the longer he looks at Bella shining under the stars.
"You know how people say that looking up at the stars makes them feel so small, so insignificant?" says Bella, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?" says Dean, watching her mouth as she talks.
"When I look at the night sky, I don't feel like that. I feel limitless," she sighs happily. "I feel relaxed and safe."
Dean lets out a scoff. "The stars and moon are so cold. They only mean death and monsters."
"Stars are forever," Bella turns to look him square in the eye. "Have you ever walked in clear starlight? Between the trees as the night's light streams down onto the ground? I've waded in creeks as the water shines dark with the reflection of the moon. I've danced with my coven under the light of the Big Dipper. And it's the most beautiful thing I've ever done."
"Every evil bastard I've fought is most powerful at night."
Which is true. Dean can even list a few right now off the top of his head. Werewolves, of course. Vampires, because there isn't any sunlight, shapeshifters, djinn, wendigos, hellhounds, demons, hell, even those insane sons of bitches who kidnapped people to hunt and kill. And they were fucking human!
"You think too much about hunting, Winchester," Bella sounds disappointed. "Just look up at the sky."
She grabs his chin and forces Dean to stare up into the inky blackness.
"See how some of them blink? Those are all the loved ones you've lost saying that they're watching over you."
Dean points to a dot of light. "That's my mom then."
"That's a good star," muses Bella. "I like it. See, I told you it was Heaven."
"It's Heaven, all right," Dean agrees, staring at her instead of the stars.
Bella snorts. "People don't compliment me like that after they've gotten into my pants."
"Why not?"
"Always pick the wrong ones, I guess."
"If it means anythin' comin' from me, those people are douchebags. You're fuckin' gorgeous."
"Why?" says Bella.
Dean wrinkles his forehead. "Why what?"
"You're supposed to want me dead."
"In theory, yeah," he shrugs. "Doesn't mean I believe it much, anymore."
"No?" Bella asks softly.
"No."
She smiles at her feet, an expression that Dean doesn't miss and realizes that he's mirroring.
"Ready to go back inside?" says Bella. "I'm fucking freezing."
"Nah," Dean wraps an arm around her and pulls her into his side. "Let's stay out for a while. I'll keep you warm, baby."
"My legs are going to turn blue and won't you feel guilty when they have to chop them off?" she pouts.
"Shouldn't have worn that dress."
"But you're glad I did."
"Insanely fuckin' glad."
"I'm glad I did too."
Bella wraps an arm around Dean and tucks her hand in his back pocket. He looks down at her, lips quirking up into an amused grin.
"My hand is cold!" she defends.
"Bullshit," teases Dean. "You just wanna touch my ass."
"You wish, Winchester."
"All day, every day, Bells."
She rolls her eyes. "You're insufferable."
"I think I'm very endearing," replies Dean, tugging her closer to him as another shiver wracks through Bella's body.
"Oh, and so modest too!"
Dean blinks, thinking quickly. With no comeback in sight, he does the next best thing; a move he learned at the age of six. If you don't have a good comeback, mock them.
"Oh, and so modest too!" he trills in a very fake, very exaggerated Italian accent.
"Jesus, I do not sound like that," says Bella, scowling.
"I do not sound like that," Dean parrots.
"Dean!"
"Dean!"
"God, quit it, would you?"
"Quit it, would you?"
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
Bella huffs, her face a little pink. Dean leans down close to her and grins, egging her on. Her eyes narrow and she places her hands on his shoulders. Dean, expecting a move like this, locks all his muscles so that when Bella goes to push him, he doesn't even move. She tries again and again, each time getting more and more frustrated with him. She's kind of cute like this, a petulant child-like way about her.
"You're"-shove- "Like" -shove- "A fucking" -shove- "Brick" -shove- "Wall" -shove- "Damn it."
After her eight attempts at trying to knock him over, Dean grabs her wrists and hold them above his head.
"You're pretty cute," he says.
"I can kill you, you know."
"Cute and deadly," says Dean. "An awesome combination for a chick."
Bella opens her mouth for a biting retort and Dean waits eagerly to hear it. Yeah, she's sarcastic to a fault and doesn't take his crap. Dean may keep her. Before the words fall from her lips however, Bella shivers so violently that she knocks the top of her head into Dean's chin. He gets alarmed and does the only thing he can think of. Scooping Bella up in his arms, Dean sits down in one of the chairs and holds her pressed against him. She burrows into his side, grateful for the heat. Dean is sure that if Bella were a cat, she'd be doing that weird thing that cats do where they push their paws into peoples' laps, alternating feet and scratching up their owner's' skin.
"Is this better?" he asks, stroking her upper thigh with his thumb.
He hasn't taken his eyes off her legs. He's starting to think he has a thing for high heeled shoes too. Especially the ankle breaking, four inch tall ones that Bella always seems to wear. The ones she has on tonight are silver, covered in glitter. They're stripper heels, Dean thinks, but they look amazing on her. And they felt amazing when they were digging into his back not thirty minutes ago.
She nods. "Yes. Thanks."
"Good," says Dean. "Now tell me about the stars."
"Okay," Bella answers happily. "So, look there. That's Orion. The hunter."
She takes Dean's finger in hers and leads both upwards until they're pointing at a cluster of stars. She traces the outline of Orion with both of their fingers and Dean tries to imagine it.
"The really bright star is Betelgeuse and south of the belt is the Orion Nebula. Can you see it? That kind of fuzzy looking thing?"
Bella moves their fingers again and draws a circle around what Dean assumes to be is the nebula. To be honest, Dean can barely even find the goddamn moon in the sky half the time. But he likes how happy, how animated Bella seems to be looking up at the stars. She looks as if she's glowing and Dean is fucking awed. She's just so fucking beautiful and it would make Dean feel sick if he wasn't still a little blitzed from that joint.
"Any others?" he says, his eyes not on the sky, but on Bella. Always Bella (at least it seems that way tonight.)
"In January, you'll be able to see Orion even better. And in February, there's Gemini. Ooo, and that one?" Bella traces another pattern out. "See, that one there? That's Eridanus. It's called the Celestial River. Can you see it?"
Dean nods, because yeah, shockingly he can. It runs east to south across the dark sky and the first star sits right near another really bright star.
"What's that bright one?" says Dean.
"Rigel. From Orion," explains Bella, excited that he can see it.
"How do you know so much about the sky?"
"Natural borns learn the moon phases very young. It's almost an innate skill that we have. The different phases of the moon are used for different things. Charging crystals, doing certain magic, stuff like that. Constellations on the other hand, I've been loving for a long time. The night sky is just so beautiful to me. I love the moon, the stars, even the heavy clouds some days. It's clean, it's renewing. It makes me feel like I can fly. Move the stars around so I can fly back home to my family."
"How'd they die?" says Dean.
"Tracy."
"Tracy, as in Samhain's Tracy?"
"Yeah," says Bella. "She was my great aunt. My great grandma's sister who wasn't a natural born. So obviously she was jealous and sold her soul to Samhain six hundred years ago for the same magic. But demonic magic is different than natural born magic. It's not as powerful, for one. And it's harder to control. It makes a person immortal, but it eats away at their soul. Darkens them. And the demon benefits too. They're able to sort of meld themselves with their demonic witch-slave. They imprint on each other. You know, like how ducklings decide that the first thing they see as soon as they hatch are their mother? That's kind of what happens to demonic witches and their demons. Only it's more sickly, devoted sexual fantasies and fucked up love."
"So great grandma Rossi was a natural born?" Dean says.
"She was. She and Tracy were born in like the 15th century. They were part of a group of Celts in Ireland."
"So during the whole witch crisis then? And they escaped the stake?"
"Right. They never caught them. True witches with actual power, natural born or demonic, know how to cloak themselves from hunters and priests. The ones the church would kill weren't witches at all, just people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was so terrible."
"But if they were born in the 15th century, how'd your great grandma have a family line endin' with you? Unless you're actually three hundred years old..."
Dean's eyes grow as he stares down at Bella. Fuck, she's not really a billion years old, is she? Oh, that's just sick to trick a guy like that! Looking like you're a pretty young thing and really having insides that are shriveled up and black? Gross, he touched that... Uggh.
"Since Tracy sold her soul to a demon for her magic, that magic was a demonic magic and made her immortal. My great grandma, on the other hand, lived naturally until the 1700's before old age caught up with her. She didn't want to die though. She wanted to watch out for her little sister. She did all the life prolonging spells and blood magic that she could," explains Bella.
Dean nearly collapses with relief.
"Anyway, great grandma married my great grandpa in 1924 and my grandma was born in 1933. Their family moved to America where Granny Kyna met Nonno Arturo. And after World War II was over, he whisked her off to Italy. They had my mum in 1959. And then Mamma met Babbo in Italy when she was twenty-five and they got married almost immediately. A few years later, I was born."
"Oh, thank god," Dean says.
"You actually though I was three hundred years old?" Bella teases. "That's fucking disturbing."
"You're tellin' me."
She laughs at him, throwing her head back and letting the sound echo outwards into the sky. Dean gets that heady feeling again and he leans forward, pressing his lips to Bella's throat. A little squeaky noise leaves her mouth and Dean grins against her, leaving gentle suckles on her neck all the while enjoying Bella's purrs.
"You make such pretty noises, Bells," remarks Dean.
"Can we go back inside?" asks Bella in return.
Dean hums his agreement on Bella's left shoulder and stands up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. She's relatively light and Dean totally doesn't mind carrying her around like this. Not when he has this constant access to any part of her body that his mouth can reach. Not when she's cooing her pleasure in his ear and tugging on his hair. The door closes with a gentle swoosh and Dean heads carefully down the staircase with Bella leaning her head on his shoulder and returning the favor by pressing her own little kisses to the side of his neck.
"Hey, you didn't tell me you had another tattoo," she muses, tracing a fingernail across the words that run down the side of Dean's neck.
It had happened as a result of a late night bout of drinking. The day after Sam had left for Stanford, Dean found himself alone (Dad had taken a solo hunt) with two bottles of unopened Jim Beam. As soon as one bottle was drained and the second one was two-thirds full, Dean had gotten bored in the hotel room and decided to take a late night stroll. He had ended up halfway sober and standing in front of a tattoo parlor. On a whim, he strode into the place with no idea in mind and a credit card under the name of Peter St. James in his back pocket. The tattoo artist was creepy, the floors were a little dirty, and before Dean could even really think, he'd walked out of there with a fresh tattoo, inked in black and dancing down the right side of his neck and ending on the side of his shoulder.
"You're waiting for someone to perform with," reads Bella. "I love it."
"Lotta girls don't get to see it," Dean says, feeling oddly relieved that she likes it so much.
"Don't carry a lot of girls around, do you?"
He can hear the amused and superior way that she says it.
"Not that often. But then again, most of 'em I don't worry about gettin' frostbite."
"Oh, you worry about me, Winchester?"
"I worry about what your family would do to me if their daughter's legs had to be chopped off because she was sittin' in the freezing cold Canadian weather with a guy who did nothin' to rescue her."
"Mm, all right. I'll take it."
Dean uses his hip to push the bedroom door open and sets Bella back down on her bed. She pats the space next to her and he joins her, leaning against the wooden headboard.
"How old were you when you got that tongue piercing?" Dean asks.
Bella lets out a soft laugh. "I was sixteen. It bled for awhile and crushed ice became my best friend. But it's great for giving oral. Makes people go crazy."
"Really?" muses Dean, his fingers tangling through her hair. "How interestin'."
She leans closer to him. "Okay, my turn."
"Your turn?"
"To ask you a probing sexual question. How old were you when you first had sex?"
"Erm, sixteen, I think? You?"
"Fifteen," Bella shrugs. "It was nothing extraordinary."
"It wasn't?" says Dean.
"Not in the slightest, dude."
"That sucks ass."
"I know, right?" she sighs dramatically. "Welcome to the sad, sexual escapades of Isabella Rossi. Not to mention that- well, hmm, best save that tidbit for another time."
"What?" says Dean, curious.
"It's nothing."
"What?" he repeats, a smirk finding its way onto his face. "You got a secret kinky side or somethin', Bells?"
"Like I'm going to tell you, Winchester."
"Will you?"
"That's very unlikely."
"How 'bout this then?" Dean tries. "One for one."
"You're kinky?" Bella says, doubtfully. "All right, deal."
"So, there was this girl, Rhoda, right?" Dean starts. "Insanely hot chick. We were nineteen and she'd just gotten her parents to agree to a boob job. Basically, they weren't real, not that I was complainin'. We were gettin' into it and she tells me to try on her panties."
"Wait, seriously? And did you?"
"Well, yeah..."
Dean is momentarily startled when Bella bursts out laughing. She laughs so loudly that Dean is sure people are going to hear and soon, there will be a crowd gathered in the bedroom who know Dean Winchester has worn panties. An ungraceful snort leaves Bella and Dean glowers at her.
"Would you shut up?"
"What," Bella wipes her eye, "What color were they?"
"Pink, all right!" Dean snaps grouchily. "Pink and satin-y!"
"That is the best fucking thing I've ever heard!" she croons gleefully.
"Shit, I wouldn't have told you if I knew you'd be mockin' me."
"It's funny!"
"Christ, would you just stuff it?" Dean makes a face. "Fuck this, I'm outta here."
Bella rolls her eyes. "Dean, come on. Don't be a drama queen."
"What did you just call me?"
"You're the one who told me. It's not like I forced you or something. Here, I'll go if you sit back down."
The curiosity to find out about Bella's kinky side overwhelms Dean's embarrassment and he flops back down onto the bed next to her. He gestures to her as if saying 'go on.'
"I'm a bit of a domme," she says, picking at a fingernail. "And a sub."
"What do you mean by a bit?"
"It means that most people don't want to be dominated by a girl who barely hits 5'4". They usually laugh in my face, so I never really talk about it anymore."
"You must be screaming out to be a domme then," says Dean.
He's mentally dancing around in celebration. Dean knew poor Bella had a dominating side the very first time they'd ever met. Constantly pushy, didn't fall hard and fast for his lines, and pushed him around a little bit, making him sweat out his boner in the Impala. Oh yeah, she isn't a classic textbook dominatrix, but Bella definitely has some awesome potential. Dean feels a little sorry for her that she's never really gotten to test that side of herself out.
"Just let me know when you want to and I can accommodate that request," he finds himself adding.
"Are you serious right now?"
"I'm dead serious. You can dominate me anytime. I mean, shit. Guys do not know how lucky they are when they stumble upon a rare female willing to be a switch. You're a rare one, Bella Rossi."
"Ah, so you're a switch too, are you?" Bella says, delight sparkling in her eyes.
"Definitely," Dean grins. "Lucky we found each other, huh?"
"Very lucky. Thank the goddesses."
"What goddesses?"
"It's what we say instead of thank god."
"I like it. Fits you better somehow."
Bella laughs. "Just a witch thing."
"By the way, will you show me how you can pole dance sometime?"
"Only if you let me pick the song, Winchester."
"Sounds fair."
Dean extends his arms over his head, and falls down flat on Bella's bed. He holds out his arms and gestures with a crook of a finger for Bella to join him. She crawls up next to Dean and curls herself into his side. He grins a crooked grin, liking this. Maybe he could get used to this whole cuddling thing, especially with Bella. She tangles her legs around one of his, her now bare feet pressing against Dean's shin.
"God, your feet are freezin'," he says.
"Ah fuck, sorry," says Bella. "They always seem to be. And my fingers."
"That's a sign of bad circulation."
"Thanks Dr. Phil."
"Wouldn't it be Dr. Oz?" Dean says.
"Whoever the fuck tells his studio audience whether or not his guest has Spanish flu," Bella replies. "Hell if I knew."
She burrows herself closer to Dean. Absentmindedly, he finds himself running his fingers through her soft curls.
"That feels nice," Bella says softly.
Dean heaves a heavy sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. He turns his head to grab Bella up in another kiss, but finds her seemingly dozing. Her lips are parted, the red color now completely rubbed off and Dean blinks in wonder. He carefully pulls his shirt down and grins in triumph as he sees red lipstick prints marking his chest. And though he can't see them, he's now sure that there are some on his neck too.
"Thanks, beautiful," says Dean softly, before sleep claims him too.
Dean is woken up what seems to be only mere seconds later to the sounds of hushed arguing.
"-Do you know what he does to girls, Jingle Bells? Who he's been with?" says an angry voice.
"Sam?" Dean mumbles, confused.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" says the voice. "Sleeping with my fucking sister?"
"Jace!" Dean recognizes Bella's voice and sits himself up, reaching for her. "Leave it alone!"
She's angry, Dean can tell. Her muscles are tense and all Dean wants to do in his tired haze is massage the knots right out of her shoulders until she's purring for him.
"And why should I?" Jace snaps before rounding on Dean. "You better get the fuck outta here before I kill you."
"Dude, Jace, chill. Bella's a big girl. She can take care of herself," Dean says.
Jace lets out a snort. "No, she's hardly out of high school."
"Jace..." starts Bella.
"She's barely twenty and you fuck her?"
Dean feels as Bella slumps down in defeat.
"What?" he says.
"She's barely twenty and you fuck her?" Jace repeats. "That's just so fucking wrong."
A few beads of sweat break out over Dean's forehead. Is Jace serious? Is Bella really only twenty? God, she's so much more... experienced than Dean was when he was twenty. Or maybe he had taken advantage of her and she was just playing it up for the cameras. Oh Christ, that's it. Dean feels a little nauseous.
"Bells?" he says quietly. "Are you really?"
She barely even spares him a glance. "Yes."
"Just turned twenty this past June," Jace adds.
"Seriously, J, you're not fucking helping," snaps Bella. "Like at all."
Dean runs his hands through his hair.
"Son of a bitch."
He can barely focus on the resumed argument between the two siblings as his head swirls with thoughts. Bella's so young. She's a fucking baby. Too young to be caught up in his shitty monster filled world. She still has a chance at living a normal (albeit witchy) life! Dean can't drag her in, can't expect her to need someone like him dragging her down. He's lived three times as much as she has. Seen more evil. He can't. He can't do this to her. He won't. Clean break. Gotta make it a clean break. Just say 'Bella, we can't do this anymore. See ya.'
"Dean?" says Bella.
He looks up from the floor to see that Jace is gone, leaving him alone with Bella. She's still looking so goddamn gorgeous and Dean has to fight back the urge to run his fingers across her face.
"You were drinking," he stammers. "At the bar that night when we hooked up, you were drinkin' vodka."
"Fake ID," she says.
Dean snorts in disbelief.
"YOU'RE ONLY TWENTY YEARS OLD?!"
Bella nods meekly.
"You know I'm almost thirty, right?" he asks.
"Does it bother you?"
"Frankly, yeah. It bothers the hell out of me. Why didn't you say anything?!"
She sighs, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "I thought it wouldn't matter."
"Most twenty year olds don't look as fuckin' mouth-watering as you do! You're a kid!" Dean groans. "A friggin' baby!"
"Jesus Christ!" says Bella loudly. "If we lived a hundred years ago, I would have been married to a fifty year old with five kids already!"
"Christ, your parents are gonna cry rape. I may end up on a sex offender's website!"
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, you asshat! Jesus fuck."
"Fuck you, Rossi!"
"It's not like I'm underage! Why does it matter?"
Why does it matter? Because Dean wants her. Christ, he wants her so fucking much that it hurts. But he can't. Can't ruin her. He would never be able to live with himself if he stayed. Twenty years old is still young enough to have a full life. Dean wants that for Bella. To live a life where she can just worship her goddesses and dance naked around fires. Where she doesn't have to worry about monsters killing her in her sleep or demons constantly wanting her entrails for their hellhounds.
"You know what, fine! If it bothers you so much, why don't you just go?" cries Bella.
"Maybe I should," grunts Dean, climbing off of her bed.
"Good! Just fucking leave, Winchester!"
"I'm gone!"
The door to Bella's bedroom slams behind Dean. He goes for the stairs but not before hearing Bella shout one more thing.
"God, I never want to see you again!"
Her voice trails off and he hears a soft little sniff. Dean pinches his eyes closed and, trying to ignore his feelings, rushes down the stairs to find Sam.
Our SotD is "Baby, It's Cold Outside." A classic :)
Also just to make this chapter (and why Dean is upset) a bit clearer, Dean is freaking out because of the ten year age difference, really. Not the fact that she's underage (because in Canada, Bella isn't underage) And the fact that he likes her so much, but now he sees her in this new light- as a young girl who has her whole life ahead of her and doesn't need him and his baggage dragging her down. His Winchester guilt is strong here. And when they hooked up the first time (during Halloween), Bella was in a bar in America where the drinking age IS 21 and that's why she carries a fake ID. I hope that clears any lingering confusion up. I know I wasn't very clear. That's my bad.