Disclaimer: Not Mine:)

AN: I will be trying my darndest (is that even a word?) to update regularly with this, but school is a mean son of a gun and I might not get a chance. But I'm nearly done, and I will try and set aside some time each weekend to update. Woot. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Five

Dean Winchester was a jock. It was obvious, the moment he set foot on campus, that that was the group to which he was destined to belong. Luke had never been a fan of the jock fraternity and he liked Dean even less. To him, Dean typified everything about that group that he disliked – he was loud, obnoxious, sleazy, thought he was hilarious and was irritatingly popular. And, even more annoyingly, was very good-looking and utterly aware of it. He could disrupt class a dozen times and the only reprimand he would receive was a fit of horrendous giggles from most of the girls, a slap on the back from his friends and a disapproving look from the teacher. Luke couldn't stand it, and one time, it took Charlie to stop him from throwing the heart they were dissecting across the room and into his smug face.

"Don't," she said, reading his thoughts and laying a hand on his arm. "He's not worth it."

She threw Dean a disgusted look as he made a vulgar gesture towards her across the room. "He's a jerk. Besides," she added, looking at Luke with a twinkle in her eye. "You're horrible at gym. Wouldn't have even hit him."

That afternoon Luke and Charlie were going back to Luke's house. As always, the grass in front of the school was filled with students leisurely milling around before going home. Yellow sunlight filtered through the trees and laughter and chatter floated in the air – it seemed to Luke almost like a scene out of a movie as they strolled over towards the middle school. Dean and his friends were draped over the concrete stairs, talking loudly. As Luke and Charlie passed, there was a shout of raucous laughter and turning, they saw Dean holding a knapsack just out of reach of a chubby kid in a younger grade.

"He is such a jerk," Charlotte hissed, and Luke nodded. He was just about to reply when his younger brother came running up to them.

"Mum says we have to go straight home so she can show you what to do with casserole because they're going out tonight and she doesn't want you to ruin it like last time," he said, without drawing breath and not bothering to say hello.

Luke blushed, but Charlie gave him a smile. "You go. I'll meet you later." He nodded again, still embarrassed, guiding his little brother towards the footpath. He turned to wave, but Charlie wasn't looking – instead, she was striding determinedly towards Dean Winchester.

At home an hour and a half later, Luke was starting to get a little worried. With his brother upstairs in his room doing his homework, Luke had spread his Geography assignment over the table, hoping to make a start. As a partnered assignment however, without Charlie there was little point. He was just about to go out and look for her when she stormed through the door, looking furious. Luke opened his mouth to ask her if everything was all right, but she beat him to it.

"I hate Dean Winchester!" she burst out, slamming her bag on the table and sending papers flying. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were full of anger.

"What happened?" Luke asked, half alarmed and half amused. He looked over at her and to his horror saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. "Charlotte, what happened?" Concerned, he folded her into his arms. "What on earth is wrong?"

Charlie took a shaky breath. "I just hate bullies. Especially when people like him do it to kids like that. It's just not fair." Her voice broke off as angry tears streamed rivers down her face.

Luke shuffled over to the cabinet with her and reached down some tissues, which Charlie accepted gratefully. After a few minutes, she regained her composure, drawing away from him and looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry. Just he was being such a jerk…"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked gently. He wasn't really sure how to deal with women when they were crying.

Charlie looked at her feet and then up at him. "Well after you left, I went over and snatched the bag off him. When I gave it back, the poor kid was so upset he was practically crying. I told Dean to pick on someone his own size." She paused, filling a glass with water and handing it to Luke before filling her own.

"Well, good on you," he said. "It's about time someone put him in his place."

She gave a wry smile. "That's not the half of it. He was winding me up Luke, but I just snapped. I called him a few names and then he said I was fat and I lost it." She dropped her gaze to the floor, cheeks pink again. "I slapped him. Really hard. He had a hand print in his face."

Luke choked on the water he was drinking. "You did what?"

"I know! I've never done anything like it before in my life, but he was just so smug with that fucking superior attitude." She shook her head, a derisive look on her face.

"I can't believe you slapped him," Luke said faintly. "He's going to have it in for you for the rest of the year."

Charlie snorted. "I don't care about that. I can look after myself and he certainly doesn't scare me." She sighed, fiddling with the glass. "But he got suspended. And I got a detention."

Hearing her voice catch, Luke put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "It doesn't matter. It's only a detention," He said, hopeful he was talking about the right thing.

"I've never had a detention before. Ever!" Luke felt relieved, but Charlotte continued. "What are my parents going to say? Practically the whole school was watching. God, it was so embarrassing, I've never lost my temper like that before…"

Luke gave her another quick hug before releasing her. "Well. It could be worse," he said, trying to hide his smile.

"Oh?" Charlie looked up at him sceptically.

"Well sure," Luke said grinning. "You could be Dean Winchester."

Dean woke once during the night. He woke, mind blank and heart racing, to an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. The darkness was so complete he couldn't see anything, and the only sound he could hear was the mad beating of his heart. Panic exploded in the pit of his stomach and he sat bolt upright, willing some sort of recollection to calm him. And as soon as he wished for it, a hand touched his; and his memory was instantly refilled with magic and colour.

"Shhh," her voice circled around in his ear as she pulled him back underneath the covers, close to the warmth of her body. "It's ok." She moved a little and Dean inched closer to her. He didn't want to let her go, not just yet.

"It's ok," the words were heavy with sleep as she moulded herself to fit against his body, completing the half.

Slowly Dean fell for the irresistible pull of sleep and he drifted off, eased by the slow, steady beats of her heart.

Charlie woke hours later, to a newly risen sun and the fresh chill of the morning. She was tired and had the feeling of having dreamt vividly, but was unable to remember anything. Stretching and then snuggling back under the blankets to avoid the cool pinch of the air, Charlie looked over at Dean. He wasn't awake, and she smiled as his face creased with some unknown cause for concentration in his sleep. He was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded hands and the blankets bunched under the bump of his shoulder blades. Looking with displeasure at this interruption in the continuity of his tanned figure, Charlie idly reflected on what the covers were so unfairly hiding. But sight, in this case, was just a secondary sensation – every muscle, every curve, every line on this man's body was burnt into her. She felt a familiar thrill pulse through her as his muscles sporadically tensed and then relaxed. She remembered what it felt like to be encased in his arms, to feel like his touch would set her on fire and his warm, laboured breath would melt her skin.

It was like a dream, a delicious dream. One of the ones that is so tangible and touchable that when you wake, reality is disappointingly empty – as if something is missing or been taken away. And no matter how much you wish you could stitch yourself back in, back to how you felt and what was happening, you can't. Last night, with the heavy weight of sleep pressing against her eyes, Charlie prayed that in the morning she wouldn't have to comprehend that bittersweet feeling. And fortunately, she didn't have to – the morning was here and so was he, and the dream she thought had been too good to be true didn't look like unravelling anytime soon.

Charlie rolled onto her back, beaming at the ceiling. This was it. She loved this, she loved him, she loved knowing that he was sleeping in the same bed, a mere arms length away. Sneaking another look at him, a feeling of elation rushed through her body. She felt like laughing uncontrollably, flailing her limbs wildly, kicking the bed out of pure euphoria – knowing that he was her lover, the best lover she had ever had.

Dean woke shortly after she did, a smile creeping onto his lips as his eyes slid over to Charlie, who was grinning mischievously at the ceiling.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked amusedly, his voice deep and scratchy after sleep.

Charlie looked over at him, surprised by the sudden sound of his voice, but still smiling widely. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she said enigmatically.

"Ooh," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "We're playing this game are we?"

She laughed and Dean raised himself onto his elbows and stretched before moving over to her and kissing her. Her nose was cold against his cheek, but her mouth was warm and her kisses were sweet.

"Morning," she said, studying his face before he moved down, lining kisses down her neck and shoulder and then propping himself up on one elbow next to her.

He smiled, lacing his fingers with hers and then kissing her again. "Morning," he replied, his voice husky as his eyes flickered down over her. He pulled straight the blankets that had gathered in between them.

"Sleep well?" she asked lightly, but she didn't really need nor want an answer. She could feel his naked body against her and after that, her brain refused to be coherent.

"Marvellously." He responded, knowing exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too. For a moment they simply stared at each other, before he smirked.

"You know what?" he said, shifting so that his weight was resting on top of her.

"What?" she replied nonchalantly, not willing to let on how her stomach was twisting itself into knots.

He lowered himself onto her so their faces were only inches apart, and she could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest, betraying his cool exterior. "I think today is the perfect day for staying in bed."

Charlie looked out at the beautiful day that had dawned, and then back at Dean. "I think," she paused, running her hands down the full length of his back, causing him to break out into goosebumps. "You might be right."

When he kissed her, he tasted what she wanted, and as their tongues slid desperately over each other, he wished he could give it to her. But he couldn't control the future, only this living moment – and as he dipped his face to hers again, he wasn't sure if he could even control that. Outside, the sun rose higher into the sky.