They eventually peeled themselves out of bed sometime in the late afternoon, having made up for a significant portion of their lost time. Once they had taken Moose for another stroll around the perimeter of the lake, night was falling.
"You got any ice cream in the house?" Dean wondered as they made their way up the gravel driveway. "I could really go for a sundae or something."
"Sweet tooth, huh?" Mer questioned.
Dean shrugged. "The heart wants what it wants," he joked with a chuckle.
"Well I don't have any ice cream," Mer admitted. "But…there is this diner in town that makes a killer banana split."
Dean balked. "In town?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows at her.
"Never mind," Mer replied quickly. "Besides, you should really eat your vegetables first." She flashed him a smile as they ascended the porch steps.
Hours later, after they had made dinner, eaten, and washed up, Dean was seated in front of the fireplace with a book Mer had dropped in his lap. He was hardly absorbing any of what he was reading, distracted as he was listening to Mer's melodic humming from the shower. As he listened, the water turned off and he heard the shuffling of the shower curtain being pulled back. It was a few moments before Mer emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, towel piled on top of her head and a robe draped loosely around her.
She padded over and lowered herself down to sit on the floor at Dean's feet, leaning against his shins. "How's that book?" she wondered.
Dean smiled, hearing in her tone that she knew full-well he wasn't reading it. "Great," he answered, playing along. "Yeah, you know…really riveting."
"I was thinking in the shower…" Mer began, untwisting the towel from her head and letting her damp hair fall free.
"Yeah?" Dean mused, leaning forward to place his hands on her shoulders. He began to massage them gently.
"And I realized you never got your ice cream," Mer said, as if she had no idea how much she had just enticed him. "I can throw on some sweats and run into town for a couple pints. What's your flavor?"
Dean delayed answering, mulling something over. "How late's that diner open?" he wondered, squinting toward the oven clock.
"What's today, Wednesday?" Mer questioned, thinking. "Ten, I think. Why?"
"That gives us a little over an hour," Dean observed. "What do you say I take you out?"
"Take me…out?" Mer questioned. "As in, out in public?"
Dean nodded as she glanced at him over her shoulder.
"I thought that was…against the rules, or whatever," Mer replied, looking skeptical.
"That's the best thing about making the rules," Dean told her. "I can break them all I want."
"You're sure?"
"Mer, I know I'm a little uptight about this sort of thing," Dean admitted, a hint of guilt in his voice. "I know every time I come here I make you hole up with me like some sort of…"
"Kept woman out in the woods?" Mer wondered tauntingly.
Dean cracked a smile, shaking his head. "I do it to keep you safe, not keep you a secret," he assured her.
"I hate to break it to you, sugar, but this is my town," Mer reminded him. "You happen to be the dirty little secret, not me."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Do you wanna go or not?"
"Of course I want to go," Mer told him, rising to stand. "Just give me a second."
"You look great, what are you talking about?" Dean chided playfully.
"Just give me a second," Mer repeated, disappearing once again into the bathroom.
As the whir of the hairdryer filled the cabin, Dean wandered over to the mirror atop Mer's dresser. He took a furtive look at himself, smoothing his hair and adjusting the collar of his jacket. He jumped when the bathroom door opened and Mer emerged, robe discarded. She swept over in his direction, and Dean quickly moved out of the way. He sat back down in front of the fire, listening to her pulling drawers and closet doors open and shut.
"Okay, ready," she eventually announced from behind him.
Dean stood from his chair and turned toward her, his face lighting up. "Wow," he commented. "You clean up nice."
"Why, thank you," Mer replied, feigning a curtsy. She had put on a dark green sweater dress, black tights, and brown boots. She had even bothered to dab on some mascara. "I figured if it's the one and only time you'll dare to be seen with me, I should look somewhat presentable." She grabbed her keys off the hook by the door and tossed them his way.
Dean caught them and stared down at them for a moment. "Mer, if circumstances were different, I'd be seen with you every night," he said earnestly at the ground.
"Dean, I was just joking around," Mer reassured him, giving him a strange look as he lifted his head. "You know I don't mind staying in."
"Right," Dean replied, fishing out a smile. He walked across the room toward her, offering his arm in a gentlemanly way.
They walked out into the chilly night, arm in arm. In the driveway, Dean opened the passenger door for her and helped her inside, closing it soundly behind her. He walked around to the driver's side and started up the old Jeep.
As he drove, Mer took out a tube of lipstick and began applying it in the visor mirror. "Why are you talking like that all of the sudden?" she wondered aloud, eyes focused on her own reflection.
"Talking like what?" Dean asked, putting a hand on her headrest and swiveling around to look out the back window as he reversed down the driveway.
"Oh, I don't know," Mer replied with a small sigh, suddenly avoidant. "Never mind." She flipped up the visor mirror with finality, rubbing her lips together ever so slightly.
When they arrived at the diner, the place was all but deserted—what was to be expected midweek in a small town. The woman behind the counter, the proprietor as Dean came to discover, greeted Mer by name.
"Mer, it's good to see you," she said, all smiles. "How are ya, darlin'?"
"Pretty good, Darla," Mer replied, smiling back.
"It's been a while," Darla mentioned, her eyes shifting to Dean every so often as she spoke.
"Well, I happened to get a craving for one of your banana splits," Mer mentioned, ignoring the shifty glances. "Actually, my friend did."
"Pleased to meet you," Dean offered, stepping forward and giving Darla his hand. He noticed the skepticism with which she took it, looking between the two of them all the while.
"I hope we're not too late," Mer spoke up. "You still close at ten, right?"
"Oh, sure," Darla responded. "It's just a slow one tonight. I think there's some game or another on. Most folks are holed up at home."
"Right," Mer acknowledged, nodding.
"Two banana splits, then?" Darla asked.
"That would be great," Mer told her. "Thanks."
"I'll just duck into the back and whip those up," Darla explained. "You two make yourselves comfortable." She gave Dean a lasting look before turning and bustling back toward the kitchen.
As the two of them took a seat at the swiveling diner stools, Dean gave Mer a perplexed look. "Do I have something on my face?" he asked. "Do I stink?"
Mer chuckled and shook her head, sobering somewhat as she spoke. "What went down between me and Elijah… it was beyond news in a town this size. I don't think anyone will ever forget it. Besides, Darla didn't like him to begin with."
"So I'm automatically some scumbag?" Dean questioned, looking slighted.
"She's just looking out, that's all," Mer reassured him, patting his knee beneath the bar.
"Huh." Dean watched Darla busying herself in the kitchen, his expression softening. "I guess…I guess that's kind of nice."
Mer took his hand, lacing their fingers together in her lap. "Don't worry, she's a pretty good judge of character. You should be off her shit-list soon."
Darla came back out, holding two dishes piled high with ice cream, bananas, whipped cream, and hot fudge.
"Darla, you've outdone yourself," Mer proclaimed.
"Secret menu—friends only," Darla replied, winking. She settled back against the counter as the two of them dug in. "So, how long have you two known each other?" she wondered, wasting no time.
"About six years," Mer answered, covering her mouth politely as she chewed.
"Then where the hell you been these past twelve months?" Darla demanded, addressing Dean directly, eyes piercing.
He cleared his throat, spluttering and swiping a napkin across his mouth before speaking. "Er—"
"Darla," Mer interjected evenly, giving the older woman a mildly reproachful look.
"All right, all right," Darla backed off, putting her hands up in the air before wiping them on her apron. "How'd you meet?"
"Our dads worked together," Dean answered, feeling he ought to contribute in some way. "Well, sort of."
"Your daddy in law enforcement, too?" Darla questioned.
"Not exactly," Dean answered. "He's…well, he was…more of a specialist. He passed away a few months ago," he explained.
"A.K.A. where's he's 'been,'" Mer said, giving Darla a look.
"Sorry to hear that," Darla said, seeming to mean it.
"Thank you," Dean replied, inclining his head. "Anyway, my dad used to cart my brother and me around on jobs. We went with him to Denver that summer and that's where Mer and I first met."
Mer sat across the cafe table from Nicole, sipping her coffee as she listened to her friend recount the final moments of her messy break up.
"…and then he practically throws me out of his apartment at two in the morning," Nicole concluded, shaking her head and letting out a sound of disbelief. "I mean, it's not like we were soulmates, but we were together six months. He could have had the decency to call me a cab home. Thank God I have you—and thank God you keep your cell on."
Mer bobbed her eyebrows and smiled over the rim of her coffee mug. "What good is a phone if you can't reach somebody when you need them?" she responded. "I'm just sorry it went down that way."
Nicole sighed. "Me too. I really liked him, you know? He just had some major issues."
"Are you feeling up for tonight?" Mer wondered, looking uncertain. "Because you know I'll make up an excuse for you on the spot. I'd even stay in and binge-eat ice cream with you."
"Of course you would," Nicole replied, giving her a sly look. "You're just looking for a reason to skip."
"I am not," Mer protested. "I'm just being a good friend."
It seemed that each year Mer spent away at school made three months back home all the more daunting. Most of her high school friends hadn't left; they were either attending the colleges nearby or working locally. The majority of them still hung out every weekend. It wasn't that she felt like an outsider, exactly, but it did feel like she had less and less to talk to them about each time she visited.
As most of them were newly twenty-one, every weekend in the month-and-a-half that she'd been home had been spent haunting the bars downtown. Tonight, they were celebrating their friend Luke's birthday, welcoming him into the club of legal drinking age.
Nicole snorted and shook her head. "Aren't you even a little excited that Vince will be there?" she baited, smiling suggestively at Mer.
Vince had graduated from their high school a year ahead of Mer and her friends. He hadn't hung out with them then, but Mer had come home to find out he was now part of their circle. He was your typical former quarterback—just shy of 6'5," handsome, muscular. Great for a night, Mer had found out a few weekends prior.
"Er…I don't know," Mer replied noncommittally.
She and Vince had hooked up a few times since the first time, casually—or so she thought. The previous Friday night, Vince had asked her out and the two of them went to dinner together. The date was fine by all reports, but Mer had been unsuccessful at conveying to him that she wasn't looking for anything serious. Now she found herself in an ill-defined fling at the epicenter of her social group.
"Meredith, come on," Nicole said. "Vince is a total catch—and completely into you. Do it for us single girls."
"Hey," came a deep voice on the street side of them, saving Mer from having to explain herself.
She turned to see one of John Winchester's sons sauntering past them on the sidewalk—the older one.
"Hi," she returned, waving at him as he passed.
He flashed the two of them a winning smile as he continued down the sidewalk.
"Oh my God, who was that?" Nicole demanded, giving Mer an almost hungry look.
"His dad is some sort of specialist," Mer answered. "He's in town to help my dad out on that weird animal attack case. I guess Dean's kind of like his assistant." She shrugged a shoulder.
"Dean? Hot," Nicole commented, her mind clearly on a single track.
"Don't quote me on that," Mer told her. "Might be Dan. Dave? I don't know, something with a 'D'."
"You need to invite him tonight," Nicole proclaimed.
Mer chuckled. "No. I don't," she contradicted.
"Mer, please," Nicole beseeched. "I just got dumped. Dumped."
"And I'm not going to enable your crazy rebound binge," Mer insisted. "You need time."
"No, I need Dean," Nicole corrected.
Mer let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"Get under to get over," Nicole sing-songed. "That's what they say."
"What who says?" Mer guffawed. She gave her friend a look of disbelief, even as she acquiesced. "Fine."