I’m an old lady, I fell asleep halfway through the movie. Potter lets out a whimper from my lap and gets up, hopping down onto the floor, emitting another high-pitched whine, basically begging to go outside.
“I’ll be right back,” Dean says, kissing me on the cheek. I try to sit upright, trying to convince myself that I need to stay awake, that I need to do something important – like tell Dean that this will never work.
I just pass the hell out, again, and wake up to Dean whispering in my ear, murmuring soft words that snake their way into my consciousness and wake me up.
“I just want to sleep, why are you waking me up?”
I can hear the smile in Dean’s voice, but I try not to react to it. I want to go to sleep, not pay attention to the world around me and lose the battle with unconsciousness.
“You have to lock the door behind me when I leave. How are you going to do that all the way over here?”
It’s futile, trying to keep my eyes closed. “Are you just going to keep talking? I don’t like the talking,” I mumble, and Dean laughs. I can’t help but smile when I crack my eyes open. Shit, he really is beautiful, and it’s not fair.
“You can just sleep here. I can’t summon up the strength to even get to my bed. I’m going to sleep here. Go ahead and use the bed. Good night,” I murmur, eyes drifting closed again.
“Yeah, I’m going to sleep in your bed while you sleep here.”
Why must there be a conversation right now, of all times? Jesus Christ, shut up, Dean! Did I say that out loud? He’s still babbling, so that would be a no.
“You have a king-sized bed. I’m actually going to fit!” Dean says, holding me in his arms. I didn’t even realize I was weightless and airborne, just thought I was dreaming of flying away, away, away.
“Screw that, I’m sleeping here with you tonight,” Dean says. He gently lays me down on the bed, undoes the covers and scoops me back up again to settle me underneath them. I shiver at the coolness against my skin, and Dean helps me take off my robe, only to hiss like I’ve sliced him to tiny bits.
I groan in the form of a question, but Dean just clears his throat and after a few seconds, I hear clothing being dropped to the floor, and then a dip in the bed. I should do something about this.
I’ve finally, finally gotten Dean in my bed, and I’m too exhausted from these past few days to do anything about it. I’m sick of the crying, and at least in my dreams, I can pretend and imagine a better life where I’m a better person, where I’m not so angry, and maybe in this imaginary paradise, I can convince myself that Dean loves me.
And just because in dreams, anything can happen, I somehow manage to love him back.
Chapter 24
The following Thursday Dean’s not his usual self. His voice sounds off, dead almost, and I have to practically beg him to talk to me. Sera’s still not talking to me, and that stings, but I’ve convinced myself that it’s better this way, better for all involved.
It’s also the day when Russia leaves a panicked voicemail on my phone, begging me for news. That asshole can stew in it; I’ve got more important things to do. Why can’t he just go after Sera himself, why does he need my help?
Sack up and make yourself heard, and all that shit.
“Hey, Dean?” I ask him over the phone, walking to my car after work. The hour has changed and it’s the last week of November, and instead of dusk being a friendly reminder that the day is ending, seven pm is pitch black like the bowels of hell.
“Yeah?” Man, even his voice sounds tired, just pure exhaustion, and… hollow.
“We don’t have to hang out tonight, if you don’t want.” I’m pretty sure I just won the Academy Award for best fake-calm, since everything inside me is pulled taut, waiting for his answer.
Maybe he’s finally come to his senses. Maybe he doesn’t want to waste his time with you anymore. Maybe he wants somebody normal…
Tamping down on my anger is hard to do, and I nearly scratch Roxie, fumbling for my keys with shaking hands. My anger always gets me into trouble, and while my luck hasn’t been so bad lately, maybe I shouldn’t tempt fate.
“Actually, maybe you can come with me. I’d like it if you came with me.”
My heart does jumping-jacks and if it had a voice it’d be squealing, sounding very much like Sera.
“Okay, I’ll come pick you up. I might even let you drive,” I say, hoping it will somehow cheer him up. I’ve never heard him sound so out of it before, there’s no intonation to his voice, no Deanness. Something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.