Here's the new chapter! Only one more left till the end of the story. Enjoy :)
Wild rage bursts through me. I gape at Dean in disbelief.
"Oh, now you wanna talk!" I spit in fury, "Well, you're damn right! You're fucking late! Two fucking years late!"
I move from behind the bar, ready to get out of here. I am in no mood of listening or showing understanding. He can rot in hell for all I care...
"Braeden, wait!"
"Leave me,"
Dean grabs my arm, which only infuriates me more. Before I realize what I am doing, my free hand lands on his cheek. The slap echoes through the empty bar. I take a step back, feeling as stunned as Dean looks. Then his emerald eyes glint with anger. Oh, he can be angry as much as he wants. Just somewhere else, for I am done with this drama.
"Will you listen?" his voice raises.
"Listen to you?" I glare at him, "The way you listened to me? The way you let me explain?"
"Braeden..."
"Don't you Braeden me! I cried, Dean, and begged you. I begged you to hear me out. Begged! And you never vouchsafed. So why should I listen to you now?"
He grabs me again, pulling me closer to him. The anger in his eyes is evident, his face pale yet still gorgeous in his fury. If I didn't know him, I'd be scared of him. We are way too close, I feel him with every inch of my body, the warm tingle mixing with my rage. He glares at me, determination written all over his features.
"Because I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry!" his voice grumbles in his anger,
"You're sorry." I almost laugh, "Sorry for what? Sorry for being an ass, sorry for..."
His lips crash against mine. The kiss is passionate, fiery and rough, and demanding. His hands sneak around my waist, pulling me against his powerful body. I wrap my arms around Dean's neck, pulling him closer. We are all over each other, desperate for more. Our tongues fight for dominance as I sink into the feeling of being in Dean's embrace again, of feeling every inch of his body pressed against me. My hands go to his shirt, pulling it hard, buttons flying around.
"Where can we..." Dean groans, unable to finish his thought as I bite almost viciously at his neck.
"Come," I pull him after me.
The quick trip up the stairs to my room above the bar is a complete blur of fiery frenzy, kissing, grinding against each other, more kissing and sucking. We barely manage it to my bed, most of our clothes already off, making a trail back down to the bar. Limbs intertwined, we collapse on the mattress, not being able to keep our hands away from one another - kissing, stroking, kneading, and remembering what it was, rediscovering our bodies after all this time. The only noise in the room is of our moans and sighs, flesh smacking against flesh. The bedframe is hitting so hard against the wall there will probably be a hole. But I can not care less. Not now, not with having Dean in me, not when I feel all this passion, all this tension slipping away, consumed in well-hidden care mixed with desire and desperate need for more and more. I can feel the build-up, the anticipation, taking me to the next level of frantic need to have Dean for myself, to wrap myself around him and never let go.
For two years I have slept alone, so waking up next to Dean has me grinning like a fool. He's still asleep, his face buried in my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist. Gently I crawl away from him and grab a clean T-shirt and underwear. My leg hurts, the stitches giving me hell. As I go downstairs, I pick up the trail of clothes we left behind last night.
As I prepare coffee, my mind goes around what happened. Dean wanted to apologize, but... I shake my head, not daring to hope. For him, apologizing doesn't mean he'd like to try again being with me. For all I know, this is just a one-night stand and nothing more. At least the hot mind-blowing sex got the anger out of my system.
I limp back up the stairs, put a mug on the nightstand, and sit on the bed.
"Dean," I gently touch his cheek as his eyes flutter open, "Hi, sleepyhead."
He smiles at me, his expression softening immediately. Dean buries his face into my lap, his arms wrapping around my waist.
"Do I smell coffee?"
"You do," I chuckle and take a sip from my mug, "I'm going for a quick shower. Drink your coffee, and then I can make breakfast."
"Eggs and bacon?" there is hope in his sleepy voice.
I laugh and shake my head.
"I'll see what I can do about it."
After a warm and relaxing shower, I bandage my leg and head back to my room. I find Dean only in his jeans and the bandages across his chest as he stares at the wall above my bed. There is the only decoration in the small space I occupy. A bunch of photos are taped to the wall. Photos of me, Bobby, and the boys. On one of them, it is me hugging Bobby, there is another where Sam and I are snuggled and laughing, one with Dean and me training and I look like I'm about to knock him out, even an old one almost ripped apart with my mom and me as a baby, There is one of Bobby, Sam, Dean, Cas, Ellen, and Jo. I remember it vividly - it was taken the day before Jo and Ellen died. A deep sigh escapes my lips. Dean turns to me, a crook sile on his lips.
"You kept douchebag here," he points his chin to one of the photos.
I look at it. It's from my high school years, Ryan and me, smiling happily at the camera. At least Ryan would be, if, in my rage, I hadn't expunged his entire face writing "jerk" right next to him.
"Are you asking something?" I look at Dean with raised brows.
"He broke your heart, so why do you keep a picture of him?"
"He didn't break my heart. Not really," I shrug, "He shattered my idea of love. There's a difference."
"Still..." he is not ready to drop it.
"It's a reminder, Dean," I cut him off, " A reminder that all... Okay, not all, but most men are self-serving pigs, and they are not worth it."
"Most?" there is a hint of fragile hope in his tone.
I look back at the wall. I can feel his eyes on me, burning me. I am not ready for this conversation, yet I answer, still not daring to look at him.
"I had someone worth it. But I pulled a stupid stunt on him, actually several stunts. And the last one was when he had enough. So I kinda screwed it up big time."
Dean's silence goes for so long I don't think he has what to say.
"You didn't screw it up." my head snaps to him, hearing the confidence in his voice.
"Really?" I raise my brows, "Running away, going behind your back, keeping secrets..." I rub my face and look at him, "I'm really sorry. I am. But I'd do it all over again."
"I know." Dean nods with a small smile, "It's who you are. Taking care of everybody but yourself."
"Yeah, right," I scoff, "Look who's talking."
He chuckles and sneaks a hand around my waist.
"I miss..." he sighs and doesn't finish, but I know what he means as he pulls me against his body, putting a kiss on my temple, "I understand, you know."
"Understand what?"
"Why you did it." Dean's amazing, green eyes pierce me, "To be honest, shoe on the other foot..."
"You'd do the same," I whisper, "I know."
"I was angry because I knew I'd do the same, that I wouldn't tell you if I was dying. And almost losing you..." the emotion in his voice makes my chest tighten.
"Dean, don't..."
"I couldn't get past my anger and fear," he continues.
"Dean..."
"No, listen," he insists, "And before I know it, you were gone, and I as time passed I thought it was too late, and..."
"Dean." I cup his cheek and smile, closing the small distance between us, "Shut up already."
Before he can react, I brush my lips against his. Asking, searching. His reply is instant. Dean kisses me as a starving man, his strong hands pulling me against him.
"I missed us, too," I whisper when we pull apart.
Dean nods, happiness shining through his eyes. He grins at me and asks:
"So, about that breakfast?"
I chuckle and take his hand. For the first time in forever I feel happiness bubbling inside me as I lead Dean down to the kitchen with the brightest smile stretching my lips.
So, what do you think about Dean's and Braeden's reunion? Drop me a review and tell me :)