Sam knew damn well Dean was brooding over something. He always acted like this when he was struggling with something, whether it was a tough hunt or some regret. He got defensive, moody and quiet. Dean had had three drinks already today, something he hadn't done in months.
The two men were sitting at the bunker table, the silence between them somewhat tense. The only sounds were the clinking of the ice in their tea and the gentle scrape of their utensils across the plates until Dean set his fork down a little harder than he should have. "We need anything? I'm gonna head out for a drive." Hazel met green before Dean pushed his plate back and rose from his seat, stalking out of the kitchen. Sam frowned when he heard the garage door slam open and closed.
Okay, so he was now almost certain something had happened between Brielle and his brother. What Sam didn't know was what had actually transpired between the two. Had they just kissed, or knowing his horndog brother, hooked up? If the latter was indeed the case and Dean didn't respect her feelings afterward, Sam was gonna be furious. That last thought actually made his blood boil a bit.
But on the other end of the spectrum, what if they had feelings for one another? Like, honest to goodness feelings? Would that change the way Sam felt about either one of them? Probably not, he reasoned. Sam had actually hinted around on more than one occasion that Brielle would be a good match for Dean, but he hadn't commented on Sam's nonchalant observation.
He finished his chicken and broccoli before getting up to put his plate in the sink and wrapping Dean's plate with tin foil. Sam placed it in the refigerator before heading down to Brielle's room to check on her.
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The sky was cloudy and gray, which suited Dean's crappy mood just fine. Somewhere in the very near vacinity, thunder rumbled ominously, warning of the oncoming storm. Even though he'd driven around the country for the last twelveish years, Dean still felt some sense of familiarity with every tree lined two lane back road he'd ever driven. Nothing like the windows down and the radio on, he thought bitterly.
Except now, he wondered, what was up with Brielle. Their arrangement was just fine until he'd come back from Texas and all hell had broken loose. She'd gotten drunk and had refused to talk to him about whatever was going on. The avoidant behavior she was exhibiting was making Dean crazy and he didn't know what to do to make things okay again.
What the hell had he done wrong?
Yeah, maybe Dean was a bit rusty in the talking about your feelings department, but wouldn't she have said something before? Brielle was very obviously pissed. Dean drove for about a half an hour before he pulled off the road and turned the car around, heading back to the bunker.
He made a decision right then that he was going to get her to talk to him, no matter what.
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Brielle woke up a few hours later with an full bladder and sat up on the edge of her full sized bed carefully, waiting for the world to stop spinning. She rose slowly on wobbly legs before unlocking her bedroom door to wander down the hall to use the toilet, her right hand on the bunker wall.
She turned back towards her room the second she saw Dean coming up the hallway towards her. "Wait." He obviously looked smarter than he was, because he reached out, his strong hand wrapping around her upper arm, stopping her retreat.
"I don't have anything to say to you." Her tone was flat and his brow furrowed. "Let me go."
Dean released his grip on her and she slipped by him and the bathroom door closed and locked behind her. He heard her using the toilet before washing her hands. The door opened a minute later and she sighed when she saw him waiting there for her.
"We need to talk."
"I don't have anything to say." Brielle's words were emotionless. Dean's hand caught her wrist and he pulled her against him, her left hand going to his chest. "Let me go, Dean." A few seconds ticked by as she struggled to free herself from his grip before she hauled off and slapped his left cheek with her free hand. Without a second thought, Dean picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He proceeded to carry her down to the gun range, kicking the door closed behind him before letting her down. "You asshole."
"Why are you pissed off at me?"
"Seriously?"
"Yes." He was standing in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest, blocking her only exit. "We go on a hunt and leave you here overnight only to come home to find you drunk as fuck. And you do this complete 180 on me."
"Move." Her voice was deadly calm and she stepped in his personal space, her eyes flashing angrily up at him.
"Talk. To. Me." He shot back, his hand moving to his sides.
"I'm done, Dean."
"Yeah, well, I'm not letting you leave here until you talk to me."
Brielle snorted. "Oh, so now I'm a hostage?"
Dean's jaw clenched and he studied her. "No. I wanna know right now why you're looking at me like you're gonna claw my eyes out."
"I'll scream." The brunette threatened and he rolled his eyes.
"It's soundproof here." Dean suddenly sounded sad. "Please... " His voice softened. "...just tell me what I did wrong."
Brielle turned her back on him and this time, he knew better than to reach out to touch her right then. "You know what you fucking did."
"No," He stated slowly. "I don't."
"We had an agreement and you broke it, so we're done."
"How... did I break it?" Brielle turned to face him again, this time with tears in her eyes.
"That redheaded waitress ring any bells, smartass?"
"Waitress?" To his credit, Dean managed to look comepletely clueless.
"The waitress from the bar after the hunt in Texas."
"I'm sorry... not following you here."
"You're a jerk." Realiazation gleamed in his eyes.
"You think I hooked up with her?"
Brielle huffed, her arms crossed. "Yeah, Dean." His green eyes searched hers before he smirked a bit. "You think this is funny?" Her eyes threatened to overflow and her voice was shaking. Brielle moved back from him, her back finding the cold wall behind her. She slid down the wall and sat down on the floor. He mimicked her actions, his back against the range wall, sitting down and stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.
"No." He said quietly, serious. "Let me understand you here. You think I hooked up with some waitress after we agreed eight and a half months ago to be exclusive?" She was sitting cross legged two feet from him, her hands held out sarcastically. "I know that sounds like the old me," Dean assured her gently. "But I promise you, I haven't been with anyone since we've..."
"Right." Her hurt, sarcastic tone made his shoulders sag a bit.
Suddenly, something dawned on him. "How did you know our waitress had red hair?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Sam told me everything Dean. When he called after the hunt, he told me he wasn't sure what time you guys were getting back here." Her eyes spilled over. "He told me about how she threw some game your way in the bar and that you'd be back sometime in the morning to head home..." Dean's head fell back against the cold cement wall, a hint of a smile showing itself along with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Brielle watched him study the ceiling, gathering his thoughts.
"Brie," His eyes moved to hers a few seconds later. "Sam knows."
"What?"
"He knows..." Dean paused. "About us. He called you while I was in the shower after we finished up that job." Brielle wiped her face nervously. "Sweetheart, I promise you... I haven't done anything to jepordize this between us." He let that sink in and suddenly, she understood.
"So Sam told me that to see how I'd react and... oh my gosh." She covered her mouth with her hands.
A smile flickered across Dean's face, his eyes on her. "Yeah... you totally fell for his bullshit story." Brielle scooted across the cement floor next to him, his arm going around her shoulders as she leaned into him.
"I'm sorry I slapped you." Her voice was quiet and beside her, he chuckled.
"You're a pistol."
"We have to tell him, Dean." Brielle half expected him to argue, that they didn't.
"I think you're right." Dean's reply shocked her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Tomorrow?"
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A/N: I had to retype this because my first two drafts mysteriously got deleted. :( Next chapter will be a bit shorter and will probably be up next week sometime. Thank you for reading! -CitrineMama