13

Bonding in a Better Way:

One

Ellen kept asking me why I was so upbeat all day. I was scraping gum off the bottom of the tables and polishing the wooden bar booths 'as happy as a clam,' as Jo put it. She seemed to know something; or, walking around with a little smile on her face made it seem like she knew. I couldn't put my finger on the reason. How was I supposed to explain if I couldn't figure it out? Sort of resolving things with Dean had brought a smile I couldn't get rid of. I just felt… better. Mustering a human habit, a shrug, I would just look at Ellen curiously and she'd shake her head and smile as she walked off again.

Then I'd be back to work, thinking about that conversation I'd had with him, running it over and over in my head. I'd scrub tables and picture the sleepy look on his face. I'd organize dishes and fix chairs and see him chuckle as I handed him the washcloth. I pushed up the sleeves on my woven shirt and mopped up puddles of spilled alcohol. He wasn't angry with me. Not at all. My sore hands didn't seem to even bother me. I slumped back onto a stool when I was finished and I leaned on the bar and just smiled at my reddened hands.

"Honey," Ellen piped from where she was polishing glasses, "you look just like a man in love."

I shifted to balance my heels on the stool and shook my head. "I wouldn't be aware of that frame of mind," I said honestly, but I did sneak a glance at her. "Why?"

"You tell me, Kas." She smiled, arching an eyebrow. "Walking around smiling and sighing like a school girl. Who're you sweet on?"

"He had a word with Dean this morning." Jo suggested this from where she was lounging at a table, waving her sterile rag around. Her smile was a lot more insidious from what I could tell.

Ellen's other eyebrow shot up too. "Really?"

"It is not like that." I protested. "He had been limping all week, I was concerned with his well-being when his health declined. So I approached him." Shifting to give Jo a curious look, I squinted at her. "I helped him with his injury."

"And there was nothing else?" Jo prodded teasingly.

"Of course there was. We spoke." I turned back to the bar and fiddled with my hands.

"There's no shame in it," Ellen put all the glasses away and leaned back against the counter. "That boy hasn't been right since Lisa and him split. And he seems pretty keen on you."

A flutter in my chest lifted my head. "Dean?" The mother and daughter exchanged a look.

"Don't you see how he looks at you? That boy is always picking you out in this crowd. And I see you searching him out, too." Ellen came over and nudged me when I blushed. "No shame, honey. I'm not sure if either of you are swingers for that team, but that doesn't mean you can't try."

I bit my lip in disappointment. "Swingers? Team? This isn't… You don't mean baseball, do you?" The women laughed and Jo came over, hugging me with an arm around my shoulders.

"You're a good egg, Kas." Ellen winked. "No, not baseball. You two are similar souls. Get on Dean's good side, and see where it takes you."

Good side, good side. How did I do that? My head ran through all the possibilities as the day rolled on into night, and the bar was full again. I didn't see Dean. Most likely he was still resting. But it gave me more time to try and think. I finished my work and Ellen let me off early, seeing as I was walking around in a fog anyway, and I left the bar around ten that night.

The halls were empty. All the kids were asleep or playing spin the bottle in the lounge, and everyone else was downstairs. My footsteps echoed off the walls. At least they hadn't taken my boots for laundry day. They were the only comfortable thing I had left, and I wanted to get out of these jeans and this shirt as quickly as I could.

When I was back in my room there was a lavender-smelling pile of my clothes just waiting for me. Relieved, I checked for Dean's things, and they were there right on top. I pulled my used shirt over my head and hung it up in my closet. I wouldn't be wearing it much more, hopefully, with my other things back.

A knock on my door frame made me jump. I spun on my heel, dubiously expecting someone had returned to steal my clothes again, and found to my elation that it was Dean. He was leaning on the door frame and only his staring made me realize I was still without a shirt. "Dean…" My cheeks were getting hotter; the tips of my ears burned with blush. I reached for a t-shirt as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sorry, my bad," he grunted. "I was wondering if we, uh, spoke this morning."

I pulled the shirt he'd given me over my head and relaxed as it hugged my torso. Finally, comfortable clothes. "Yes. Why, did you think we hadn't?" He looked a little dazed. Pulling out my desk chair, I offered it to him, and sifted through the clothing pile. Someone had added a pair of dark blue draw-string pants that were far too soft to be durable. I was examining them when Dean took the offered chair, rubbing his hurt leg as he did.

"No, I just was making sure. I lost a lot of time after I fell asleep. It mixed up my schedule. I only got half my work done." While I tugged at the strings on the pants awkwardly, he smirked at me. "Those are pajama pants. You sleep in them."

"Do I?" I questioned.

"You're supposed to." He laughed.

Trying them on sounded like a good idea. I undid my jeans and shed them, earning another stare from Dean as I fumbled with the floppy legs of the pajama pants around my boots. I had to keep tightening the strings so they didn't slip off again. Or show my blue boxer briefs, which I was told is not a good idea. 'Teased the girls,' as Jo put it.

"They're soft." I picked up my used jeans and hung those up, too, banishing them. Shutting the door was like closure. I sat down on my cot and rested my hands on my thighs. My palms moved involuntarily to rub the soft material of my pants, each point of skin contact tingling with the sensation. "Are you any better, Dean?" I asked, and I meant it. He'd been unfriendly before but now he appeared drugged.

He sat back and looked at me from under half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, I am, actually. For a couple reasons." He sighed. "I just came by to make sure we actually did have that little chat, but could you do me a solid and come grab a bite with me? I'm not all the way awake and I could seriously go for a burger right now."

Bonding in a Better Way:

The Other

Entirely starving, Dean gave up work after an hour and found that when he got up from his desk that he was very, very drained. He needed help walking. Well, he had to ask Kas about this morning anyway. He should be off work; better swing by his room before fumbling around the cafeteria weak as a newborn. Shutting his bedroom door took quite a lot of effort. Then he was off, shuffling down the hallway, driven only by hunger and will power. He'd only gotten a little of his daily work finished, especially with his head all fuzzy like this. He needed to eat. Or else he'd keel over.

He found Kas in his room changing. Leaning on the doorway, he saw him pulling off his shirt and lifted an eyebrow. Dean had seen plenty of guys shirtless. Plenty. But Kas had built up muscle from work – or whatever it was in Androids – and his hands were pretty roughed up, too. He had an uncannily human feel to his entire body. The way he moved. His skin. His face. And especially his emotions, Dean had never seen a robot with emotions. It was eerie, but Kas was a metal human. That was becoming more and more evident as he lived with them.

Now, Dean could hardly picture guns coming out of his arms and legs, his pretty blue eyes turning blood red as he ran down enemy soldiers. It was impossible to even think about. When Kas turned around, his eyes were wild with fear, it destroyed any dangerous image of himself.

"Sorry, my bad," Dean grunted. "I was wondering if we, uh, spoke this morning."

Relaxed, Kas pulled the shirt Dean had given him over his head. "Yes. Why, did you think we hadn't?" It looked good on him. Trim. He was so calm – almost like an iceberg. At this point whatever was going through Dean's head wasn't going to make sense. Dean sat down in the desk chair and sat back. The kid didn't even know what pajama pants were. How did he not know what pajama pants were? Thankfully, Dean was rubbing his bad leg and making it throb in agony.

"Are you any better, Dean?" Kas asked. He'd caught on to Dean's current weakened state.

Dean sat back and looked at him from under half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, I am, actually. For a couple reasons." He sighed. "I just came by to make sure we actually did have that little chat, but could you do me a solid and come grab a bite with me? I'm not all the way awake and I could seriously go for a burger right now." Before Kas got any more eye-catching, that is. 'Shut up,' Dean grumbled to his head moodily.

The walk to the café was… enlightening. When Kas put his arm around his waist, he got flashes of memories. Those hands. His hair smelled clean, too, although Dean was sure he had never showered, and the week-old alcohol scent still clinging to his skin backed up his theory. It suited him, though. It was much better than that sterile and smoke scent he'd carried with him a week ago. When he was released from the steel-strong arms of the robot, he felt much less at ease. Dean folded his arms on the cafeteria table and rubbed his head while Kas strode off to find sustenance.

What was he getting himself into? He felt drunk, almost, except he was fully aware of his lack of self-control, and even if he was trying – he was too attracted to Kas. It wasn't safe. Being this close to him wouldn't end well. But he had to do this. Just for now. Until tomorrow - then things would go back to normal, he promised himself. They ate together with a shared enthusiasm for cheeseburgers. Conversation went well. Dean managed to focus on his hunger and not on how close Kas was sitting to him. He clarified some unspoken secrecy laws; you know, man to man stuff. Then things took a nosedive.