Chapter 25

He was pretty sure that, in any other situation, he would have considered the gobsmacked expression on her face to be hilarious, cute even, but at that moment the lack of an actual response was beginning to unnerve him.

"So…"

She continued to gape at him; her brain trying to wrap itself around the bit of information that had just been chucked her way.

"Um…" She furrowed her brows and he retorted:

"What?! You going to deny it?"

The seconds ticked away, but eventually she uttered:

"Sam and I are bumping the what?"

"Uglies."

"You mean sex?"

Oh, why did she have to go and say it? Now he was stuck with a mental picture that was making him want to heave.

"Yeah, I mean sex." He sighed.

"Why would you think that Sam and I are having sex?"

Could she just stop saying that? He'd already spilled his guts once tonight. No need for instant replays.

"When you walk into a room to find a girl in a guy's bed wearing nothing but his shirt, the puzzle just kinda solves itself."

"Are you talking about this morning?"

The memory popped into his head bringing with it a fresh onslaught of nausea.

God, she was dragging this out wasn't she?

Reluctantly, he played along and nodded.

He did have a point. She could see how the whole scenario could be misconstrued.

"I'm not a big fan of clichés but that was definitely not what it looked like."

His throat knotted; anticipation and a glimmer of hope catching him off guard.

"So you didn't…" He trailed off but she didn't seem to be in a merciful mood:

"Have sex?"

"Ok! Could we just agree not to use that word, again?" He exclaimed.

"What? Sex?"

"Yeah!"

"What's wrong with the word-"

"You're just gonna keep saying it, aren't you?" The annoyance was evident in his question.

She narrowed her eyes at him and put her newly formed theory to the test:

"Sex."

There it was! Just to make sure:

"Sex."

She smiled and he growled:

"What?!"

"Your eye does this little twitching thing every time I say it."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. Look - Sex! A-ha, see, right there!"

He swatted her pointing finger away.

"Not funny."

She grinned.

"Dean Winchester, world class womaniser twitching at the word sex?" She mockingly slited her eyes and tilted her head. "It's a little funny."

He'd had enough of this.

"Did you or did you not sleep with Sam?"

The word ultimatum jumped to the forefront of her brain. Amy didn't deal well with ultimatums. She straightened her back to achieve her full height, which wasn't much next to Dean but it would have to do.

"I don't think that is any of your business."

"So you did sleep with him." He accused.

She was starting to get ticked off by this macho display.

"Once again… I fail to see how who I sleep with is any of your business."

He took a step forward, effectively dissipating what little distance was left between them. She waited for a reply, but all he did was stare down at her and she had to fight not to fidget under this intense scrutiny.

His gaze alternated between her eyes as if he were trying to read them. She could feel her cheeks heating up and was pretty sure they were currently sporting a brand new shade of pink.

The suffocating silence that made their soft breaths sound like harsh gasps got to her and she spoke:

"And what if we did?"

Darkness flooded his green iris as his pupils dilated but she was surprised when after a second his jaw muscles relaxed.

"You didn't."

It wasn't a question. He was merely stating a fact.

Shocked by the certainty in his tone, she was still successful in keeping up her unfazed outward appearance.

"How do you know?"

"You didn't." He repeated nonchalantly and then proceeded to breeze past her to flop down on the mattress.

She instantly whirled around coming to tower over his laying form.

With his eyes closed, he used his forearms as a pillow. It appeared that, as far as he was concerned, this conversation was over.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you." She stood with her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

"You're not me, so…"

"What makes you so sure?"

He popped one eye open and explained with a sideways smirk:

"When you've been on the job as long as I have you learn to read people."

"Maybe you should go back to school, cause… your reading skills? They kinda suck." She pursed her lips for a sardonic smile and walked around the mattress to take up her side of it.

She heard him chuckle and something snapped inside of her. Propping herself up on her elbows she sneered:

"If you must know we did have sex!" She emphasized the last word and got another muscle spasm from Dean. "And, by the way, Sam is a much better kisser than you."

That did the trick. She wanted to piss him off? Well, she got it!

His eyes snapped open to pin her as he sat up.

"Oh, now I know you're lying!"

"Am I? Are you sure about that?"

He glared at her.

"You done reading? Tell me, what does my face say?" She dared him.

He leaned in and her breathing hitched.

"That your pants are on fire." His accusing voice was low.

She ignored the butterfly-fest bursting in her gut and jeered:

"You should really consider a career change, sweetie."

"And you're lying, sweetheart."

He was too close and it was making it basically impossible for her to come up with a stylish quip so, jutting out her chin obstinately, she went for the first thing that popped into her muddled brain:

"Sam doesn't slobber."

"I don't slobber!" He exclaimed offended.

"Yeah, you do." She insisted.

"I'm a damn good kisser!" He countered.

"Sam's better."

"Liar!"

"Slobber!"

"Spoiled brat!" He gritted.

"Arrogant smartass!" She spat.

"Conceited bitch." He spat back.

She took offence to that, not the bitch part though.

"I'm conceited? I'm not the one boasting that I'm the world's greatest kisser."

"It's not boasting if it's true." He replied cockily.

She readjusted her weight on her elbows, accidentally bringing her face closer to his in the process and, for a moment, he thought she was going to...

Was she going to kiss him?

"You're conceited and deluded. What a delightful combination!" She mocked.

He was still struggling to keep his racing pulse under control. He'd really thought she was leaning in to… He gulped at the imagery flashing in his head.

"You're not all that, you know? Sure, you're sort of attractive in a Neanderthal-grunting kind of way, but-"

That grabbed his attention.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"It's amazing how you just breezed right past the whole Neanderthal-grunting part of that sentence!" She shook her head.

It was a nice way to avoid eye contact, if only for a second.

"You didn't answer the question." He pointed out cocking an eyebrow at her.

When she squirmed he singsonged:

"You've got the hots for me."

His arrogance spurred her to blurt out:

"So, you've got the hots for me too."

If they were characters in a comic book they'd have a giant 'Ops!' thought balloon hovering over both their heads.

"Yeah, well it's only cause of this stupid ring you pinned on me." He protested wiggling his finger in her face before jumping out of bed.

He'd reached the time limit for being that close to her and not doing anything about it. He could feel his muscles straining under the effort to keep his wired body under control.

She sat up and demanded:

"What was I supposed to do? Just let the hellhounds get you?"

He brought his pacing to a sudden halt.

"Maybe you should have."

"Oh, way to show gratitude, Winchester!" She scoffed.

"Gratitude? For what?! Making me live in this hell?"

"As apposed to actual hell?" She quipped.

"I'm starting to wonder if it's really all that's cracked up to be."

"You're joking right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He inquired with an undertone of disdain that ticked her off.

"You think you've got it rough?" She fumed getting up and stomping her way up to him. "I had to leave my home because of some whacked out ubberdemon wants by head on a stick for saving your sorry ass. Now I'm living out of a duffle bag being shoved into car trunks and coffins, chased down by floating heads and getting into bar fights. Bar fights! This is not what I signed up for. This is not how I wanted my life to turn out! So tell me, what's so different about the way you're living your life? As far as I can tell this is your life. Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed. You're here!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if my presence is so upsetting to you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Upsetting? That's the understatement of the year."

"What did I do?!" She asked offended.

"You're everywhere! Every time I turn around, there you are!"

And the rant was on.

"Looking the way you do, and smelling-"

"What's wrong with the way I smell?"

He wasn't listening anymore, the floodgates were open.

"And you just won't shut up! Even when you do I can still hear you in my head. I can't sleep, cause when I close my eyes… Yep! There you are again! Yapping and nagging and God, why won't you just shut up for once!"

"That's it!" She managed to push the words through her strangled throat. "I'm done with this!"

When she attempted to turn on her heels he gripped her arms, whirling her around and she crashed into his chest.

"I'm not." He growled.

She struggled to free herself, but his hands clutched both her arms.

"You wanna know what's different? Every. Single. Second. Since I've been back I can't seem to be able to get away from you. I tried ignoring you. I tried hating, but nothing works and the thought of anyone touching you, the thought of Sam-"

"Will you let that go, already?!" She yelled jerking herself out of his hold on her. "I didn't sleep with Sam!"

Dean froze.

"You didn't?"

"I thought we'd established that with the whole face-reading bit of this conversation."

There was a pause.

"I was bluffing."

The raggedness in his voice snapped her to attention and for the first time she took in his widened eyes and the hurried rise and fall of his chest.

"Oh!" She breathed, noting the erratic pounding of her own heart.

It skipped a beat when he drew closer, invading her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

"S-Sam…"

Great, she was stuttering! How was she supposed to keep her voice steady with him looking at her like that?

"…and I are just friends."

He slanted towards her and she jumped back, her hand on his chest.

"What are you doing?"

He did it again and this time, when she jolted, she felt the edge of mattress against the back of her knees.

"Winchester, maybe we should-" She pushed him with the palm of her hand and corrected: "Maybe you should… take a step back."

He didn't budge, instead, his arm wrapped around her tiny waist to drag her up towards him and her hand abandoned his chest to grab a hold of his arm.

She was terrified and giddy at the same time. The unfamiliar pull towards him overwhelming her and causing her to nervously attempt to lighten the mood by awkwardly chuckling:

"We-we don't like each other. Hell, we hate each other."

"I don't hate you." His eyes were on her mouth and she felt it dry up.

"You have a funny way of showing it." She was going for cocky and self-assured detachment; it came out feeble and fretful.

He looked up from her lips and she gulped.

"You're not going to be able to talk yourself out of this. You know that, right?"

She forced out a disdainful chuckle.

"Oh, I can talk myself out of any-"

His mouth was on hers, cutting her off, his arms folding around her small frame, hauling her off her feet, until she was straining on the tip of her toes.

If her brain was planning on putting up some kind of resistance, her body wasn't in on it, because as soon as his lips crashed against hers, one small hand fisted into his t-shirt while the other gripped the back of his neck and gruffly tugged him closer.

Her fingers delved into his hair, her tongue into his mouth, meeting his attack with matching eagerness. She felt the rumbling in his chest as he growled against her lips when he pushed his hips into hers, hard and impatient.

They moved in unison, all the while battling for dominance, neither willing to back down.

She was faintly aware of a rush of cool air down closely followed by a sharp sting as her bruised lower back connected with a flat surface. Momentarily opening her eyes, they met the ceiling, and her jumbled mind registered her newly acquired position – flat on her back, on the bed, with Dean's body covering hers.

Her vision blurred, her lungs protested against the shortage of oxygen supply and she reluctantly tore her mouth away from his, just long enough to get in a few gulps of much needed air.

He, on the other hand, continued his assault on her by trailing open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck.

The way she tasted… Jesus, it was like nothing else. Addictive. He couldn't get enough of it!

She responded by arching off the mattress, into his touch. He seized the opportunity to glide one hand down the small of her back, slip it under the lining on her shorts and squeeze the mound of flesh he found hidden there, effectively grinding her hips against his.

"Fuck…"

She heard him curse into her collarbone.

This move elicited a keen response from her. Fisting her hand into his hair she yanked him up and captured his mouth once more. When she was satisfied with his tongue, her teeth bit down on his lower lip and he broke the kiss for a moan.

Their foreheads rested against each other and the two drew harsh, frantic pants.

"Tell me…" She was still rubbing up against him and he could barely get the words out. "That biting thing…"

Her leg hooked around his waist and he felt her heat through the thin layers of clothing that separated their pelvises.

Why was he talking?

"…is that you trying to push me away."

Why was he talking? He was taking because Dean Winchester was an idiot!

He knew he'd botched everything up when he felt her freeze underneath him. The murderous look she was giving him right now erased any remaining doubts.

"No."

With one violent push of her hands she propelled him off of her and over the edge of the mattress to land his moronic ass on the hardwood floor.

"This is me pushing you away."

By the time he'd clumsily stumbled onto his feet she was standing on the other side of the bed, straightening her messed up hair and fuming.

"I-I was joking!" He ineptly chuckled.

'Man, I'm an idiot.'

"You're an idiot."

'I know.'

"And this…" A shaky finger alternated between pointing at him and herself. "This sick… thing… is never happening again. Ever!"

She was about to storm out of the room, barefoot and all, she didn't care. She just needed to get away from him.

"Amy, wait, I-"

The door swung open and Amy found Sam on the other side, fist raised as if he were preparing to knock.

"Oh, good…" He frowned noticing the tension between the two reluctant roommates. "You guys are up. We better move."

"Good idea." Amy grumbled redirecting her angered exit strategy toward the bathroom.

"What happened?" Sam questioned after the door slammed shut.

"I'm an idiot."

Sam couldn't help it:

"And that's news?"

Author's note:

And the UST just keeps going. If any of you guys are familiar with my previous work in different fandoms you'll know that I'm a big fan of UST. ;)

Once again, thanks for sticking with the story, I hope you're liking it. ;)