August 2014

One month in, she was pretty sure she could get used to this. Dean was on the road most days, leaving her with the gigantic place all to herself. After a long day at work, she could come home to the peaceful and quite apartment. She could take a long, steamy rain shower in the en-suite, or go for a run on the treadmill facing out to the water, or curl up on the leather couch and watch movies on the huge screen TV. The luxury had grown on her quickly, and she was amused by its contradiction to Dean's style. He'd come home Tuesday night and toss his beaten up leather jacket onto his expensive living room furniture. Every single one of his socks had a hole in it, and he always bought store brand groceries, no matter what.

But he was generous about the situation, hesitant to ask her to do much of anything around the house even though it was how he convinced her it was okay in the first place. She offered to throw his laundry in with hers, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It was such a simple thing, but it was obvious how much easier it made his life to not worry about it. So she rolled her eyes every time he thanked her profusely while handing off his hamper but smiled and nodded.

He was a pretty quiet roommate in the first place. Even when he was home he stuck to himself. Dean liked his alone time up in his room or in the home gym. They hung out a couple times a week, he always made extra when he made dinner. Their taste in sports were similar, and even when he was watching dark foreign films, she didn't mind sitting across from him, working on her computer. He wasn't particularly chatty, at least not for chatting's sake. Dean was a private guy, he didn't talk much about his past or the women in his life. There was an unspoken rule between them that his room was off-limits. She left his clean laundry outside the door and it was always closed. It probably was just that he liked his personal, private space to be personal and private, but she really hoped it wasn't a sex thing. Not that he seemed to be having a whole lot of it, at least not in his apartment. He hadn't once brought a girl home this entire time. Though maybe he was just shy about it.

And then there was Moxely. She hadn't had a dog in a long time, since she was a kid. After college, she just couldn't justify trying to take care of one when she was constantly running off to work. In that time, she had forgotten how much she loved it. Moxely was pretty low maintenance, she only was responsible for him Friday through Tuesday, and Dean would jump at the chance to spend time with him when he was home. He adored that puppy, it was clear, his eyes lighting up any time he saw him. And Renee was beginning to understand why the more time she had with Moxely. Affectionate and sweet, the dog took a liking to her, and Renee didn't resist. There were times she sat in the armchair in the living room, a book and a cup of tea in hand, watching the two of them wrestle on the floor, and she felt herself falling in love.

A soft knock came at her door, Thursday night.

"Hey," Dean leaned up against the doorway casually.

"Hey, I'm almost done with your laundry," she responded over her shoulder, folding a pair of jeans on her bed.

"No rush, I uh, I've got a long loop this time. Gotta do appearances next Wednesday and Thursday."

"Aw sorry to hear that,"

"You gonna be okay here by yourself all that time?"

"Oh I think I'll survive," she teased.

"Gets lonely around here,"

"I have Moxely to keep me company."

"I think he's starting to like you better."

"Oh for sure," she grinned and handed him a neat pile of clothes.

"thanks, for doing that,"

"Anytime,"

"I uh… anyway thanks."

"When are you back?" she sat down at her desk, crossing her legs.

"Two weeks. Just text me if you need something,"

"I'll be fine, Dean."

"Yeah, of course," he rubbed the back of his neck.

"What?"

"Nothing, just uh, gonna miss being home. Always do."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I'll see you in two weeks. Thanks for the laundry."

XXX

Wednesday night was happy hour in most Philadelphia bars and it made a date night out of the middle of the week. The mid-week blow off was actually pretty nice, spending the night batting her eyelashes at the blond haired guy sitting next to her. Brad, he worked in finances at the station, they weren't exactly co-workers, but had a few friends in common. He'd invited her out with them over email, which was decidedly lame, but he was cute, and he had a great sense of humor. Once he got up the courage to place his hand on her knee, he didn't move it all night as they chatted and drank and flirted.

He played with the edges of her hair, lying next to her in her bed later that night.

"This was unexpected," he whispered softly.

"Was it?" she questioned, clutching her comforter to her bare chest.

"I mean, a man can dream," he smiled and it was everything in her power not to roll her eyes at him. "The view's beautiful. Both of them."

Oh god he was cheesy.

"It is really pretty, isn't it?" she turned towards the window, looking out over the water. He curled up against her body and pressed his lips to her neck. She didn't burrow herself in towards him, but didn't push away. It was a fun night, that was enough. Maybe she'd meet him for coffee, if he asked, and maybe he would change her mind. But for now, she just enjoyed the lifted feeling and watched the river peacefully.

From a distance, she heard the front door open and then slam shut, and another clank on the hardwood floors. She sat up, looking towards her closed door.

"What?" Brad asked. "Is that your roommate?"

"Yeah he's not supposed to be home for a week,"

"Huh well," he reached for her but she scooted towards the end of the bed.

She pulled up her underwear and a pair of soffee shorts laying on the desk chair.

"I'm just gonna see what's up. Pass me that?" she nodded towards a sweatshirt hanging from her footboard. He eyed her but did as she asked. "I'll be quick."

Renee zipped up her sweatshirt and closed the door behind her softly. "Dean?" she called, walking towards the kitchen where she could hear clanking. He was filling a glass of water from the kitchen when she found him.

"Hey," he said, throwing back two Advils with his water.

"What are you doing home?"

"That unhappy to see me?"

"No I didn't-"

"I'm messing with you, Ne." He chuckled and sat down at the island, "I'm on the shelf. Concussion," he tapped on his temple and winked.

"What happened?" she wrapped her arms around herself, a chill running up her spine.

"Well," he laughed bitterly, "turns out that my former best friend Seth Rollins wasn't satisfied with ruining my career, he wanted to end it too."

"I don't follow,"

"He Curb Stomped me. Slammed my skull into a bunch of cinderblocks."

"That's awful. Are you okay?"

He rubbed his forehead, "I'll be fine. But I'm home until further notice according to the doc. Hey, you wanna make some popcorn and watch Slapshot with me?

"I actually…" she blushed and looked back towards her room.

"Ah. You got a boy in there?" he smiled, though it seemed almost forced. Almost. "Good for you."

"Are you gonna be alright?"

"Don't worry about me. Tell ya what," he stood up, "I'm a go punch something and pretend it's Seth's stupid face, and I'll leave the stereo on loud."

"We're…uh, done in there."

"Either way," he smiled again, a little bit strained. Though maybe that was from his head. "Go enjoy yourself."

She nodded and slipped back into her room, Dean watched it close behind her and sighed. He wrapped his hands on the way to the home gym and as promised, turned the stereo on high, blasting some aggressive rock music from his workout playlist.

Starting a boxing work out, he tried to clear his mind. Focusing just on the punching bag, he imagined it was Seth, though that wasn't making him feel any better. Left, right, left, left, right. It wasn't helping. Over the sound of the music, he couldn't hear anything, that was the point, though he could swear every now and then he would hear her little giggle. It was filling his brain, the image of her and some dude in her room, rolling around in her sheets. Her hair, cascading down her bare shoulders and back. Some guy's hands, running up and down her spine, his lips on her cheek.

"Fuck!" Dean pulled back as a pain shot through his hand. He shook it out, realizing how intensely he had struck the punching bag and groaned. Maybe it was time for bed, though he was sure he wouldn't be able to get that giggle out of his head.

He spent the rest of the night stretched out on his bed, watching some trash on the Discovery Channel. It wasn't like he was that woozy from the concussion, but he was definitely not himself. Miserably, he tipped his head back to the pillows, trying not to think about Seth's betrayal or Renee's date downstairs.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Dean? Are you doing okay?" she called through the door.

He chuckled, "yeah I'm alright."

"Do you need anything?"

"Renee, you can come in," he said with a furrowed brow.

She opened the door slowly, blushing, "never been in here,"

"It's not a secret," he half smiled, "I'm alright, I don't need anything. Shouldn't you be downstairs having some fun?"

"Oh, he went home."

"He did? Did I scare him off?"

"Nah, it just wasn't like that. He didn't say he wanted to stay and I didn't ask him," she crossed her arms over the oversized hoodie.

"Ah well. You had a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fun. I don't know if I'll see him again but," she shrugged, "so it goes."

"You probably wanna hit the hay."

"It's early," she glanced at the clock, it was only 9:30. "About Slapshot?"

He nodded to the space next to him in the bed, "be my guest."

Nervously, she climbed in next to him. There was an ocean between them, but his heart was still beating out of his chest as she settled into his bed. He flipped to his video library, trying not to watch her carefully as she pulled his comforter up to her waist.

"So not a winner?"

"Hm?"

"The guy tonight."

"Oh," she blushed, "yeah, I mean, he's fun. We had a good time at the bar and…after." She giggled and he forced a laugh. "I dunno, I wouldn't say no if he asked again."

"But you're not going after it?"

"Yeah I," she sighed, "I guess I just haven't really found what I'm looking for recently."

"Weren't you going to swear off guys for a while?"

"Yeah, well," she gave him a knowing look.

"You enjoy your fun."

"Don't you?"

"Told you already, I don't have the time or the energy. No one's come around recently that's seemed worth it."

"That's a shame."

"It's just sex, it's not oxygen."

"No, I know, I mean-" she bit her lip and laughed, "now I seem like some sex addict."

"Course not."

"I just mean, you don't seem to have a lot of…closeness in your life right now."

"And casual hook ups fix that?"

"No I didn't-" she shook her head, "let's just move on before I put my foot any further down my mouth."

Dean nodded, but his eyes were locked on her as she returned her attention to the TV. He inhaled sharply and it caught her attention again.

"I had these two guys once, if you wanna talk about closeness. We weren't just best friends. We were brothers. Truly. And givin' up those two has to be hardest thing I've ever had to do. So I haven't really let anyone in like that, that close because I don't really wanna fucking deal with a replacement for that." He took a breath and looked over, her green eyes trained on him. "Sorry that was rambly-"

"It's okay."

"I don't think I need to tell you that it's lonely. Pretty sure my grocery list is a tip off."

"Nothing wrong with frozen dinner for one," she smiled, "I get it, I do."

"And warming my bed up with random girls or fans…just doesn't do it for me."

"Well. We got each other."

"Huh?"

"And uh, Slapshot."

"Right. And Slapshot."

He was the one with the concussion, but between her early day and date, she was wiped. Halfway through the movie, she fell asleep, her head tipping towards his, but not touching. Dean looked over, following the long strands of wavy hair as they danced down her shoulders and her long lashes flutter open and closed every now and then. He wanted to reach over, take her hand, but he didn't. It was the last thing she was after here tonight, he was sure of it. Still, he didn't wake her, or turn off the movie. He just watched it play out, her by his side, and dreaded each passing minute.

The credits rolled, and he wondered how long she would stay there if he didn't move. But as he flipped back to SportsCenter on television, it blared from the speakers and she startled awake.

"Sorry!" he turned down the volume as quickly as he could. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Hmm, no it's okay," she yawned, "did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, but, no judgment. I mean my brain's bruised and I bested you but,"

"Shut up," she laughed, pushing his comforter to the side. He felt his heart sink slightly as she climbed out of bed. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, hey uh, what time do you leave tomorrow."

"Usually about 8?"

"I'll make you breakfast."

"You don't have to-"

"Let me feel useful will ya?" he insisted.

"Okay, see you in the morning."