Solo Cups (Silver Linings) 3/?
This is the story that would not die. Originally written for the 2011 Reverse Bang.
Title: Solo Cups (Silver Linings)
Summary: Set late season 5. Dean runs into Cassie while investigating the strange fortunes of a small town. She's a little surprised to see him, considering he supposedly died in 2008. He's a little surprised to see her, especially since the whole thing is probably a trap...
Word Count: 5500 this chapter, about 20k total so far.
Pairings: Past Dean/Cassie (though even my best attempt at het is actually still pretty gen.) Some UST. This may change.
Previous parts here: [1] [2].
A/N: Hey look, I'm posting WIP style. Maybe that'll inspire me to actually finish this beast. Warning: Unbeta'd, though volunteers and suggestions are welcome...
2010
Dean begins to relax as soon as the neighborhoods give way to small ranches and the occasional farm supply store. He's never going to be mistaken for relaxed, but he seemed less tense, less hunted. She can already see him rewriting the whole story of this misadventure in his head- it's no longer a problem, now simply a near miss, soon to be forgotten and left behind. If she were still twenty-two, that would probably upset her, but it's been a long time since then, and she's done a lot of growing up. Whatever catastrophe he's running from has nothing to do with her.
But they've got a long drive ahead of them, and she's a reporter. And she kind of suspects that she's going to be catching a bus back into town, so she breaks the silence with some deliberate nosiness.
"So why is everyone convinced you're a dead serial killer?"
He startles a little, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Uh, what?"
"Your reputation as a serial killer. And unless you picked up some new hobbies, it was of the kind that can't be explained by- I don't know, staking vampires or whatever it is you do."
"Beheading," he says.
"What?"
"What you do to vampires," he says, but stops at that.
She gives him a level stare. "Don't change the subject. C'mon, spill. I've had to put up with questions about serial killers and your supposed women-hating tendencies for years."
He rubs his temple and squints at her. "You'll probably regret asking."
"Just tell me."
He makes a face. "Shapeshifter. It was already killing people, it just added my face to its repertoire."
"So why was it….?"
"Tying people up and torturing them to death?" He shakes his head. "I've got no idea."
"So, what, it was basically a serial killer with super powers?" Even knowing what she knows, she can't quite keep the incredulity out of her voice.
He shrugs. "Shifters, man. They're all crazier than bedbugs."
She glances at the window, processing this. They've finally made it to the city limits, nothing before them but a hundred miles of highway.
...and a tree. The car is drifting across the line. "Dean, hey!" She glances back at him. She'd expected to see him yawning, maybe- but what she doesn't expect is to see him slumped over against the door.
And there's still headed straight for the tree. "Fuck!" She reaches over, first for the steering wheel, jerking them away from the tree and back on the road, but she over corrects and now they're swerving from side to side as she tries to steer from way, way, way over on the passanger side of the goddamn behemoth of a car. His foot must still be on the accelerator, too, because they're not slowing down. She curses the seatbelt, finally managing to unbuckle it with her other hand, giving her the freedom to move. Still holding on to the wheel with her left hand, she reaches over and pulls the car out of drive and down into neutral.
The car immediately begins to coast to a stop, and she manages to steer the car onto the shoulder. The car comes to a stop. She reaches over and turns the ignition to off. She rests her head against the window for a second, then pushes the door open and stumbles out. She walks around to Dean's side of the car, and opens the door, careful not to let him fall out as she does so. Once she's sure he isn't going to tip over, she reaches down, removes his foot from the accelerator, and puts on the parking brake.
"This is why it never would have worked out between us," she tells Dean, and her voice sounds so calm, too calm, but her heart is racing. He doesn't say anything, of course. He's still unconscious, though his breathing seems fine. "Trouble follows you around like a puppy. You should come with a Surgeon General's warning." Cassie undoes his seatbelt and pushes him onto his side, his head pointed towards the passenger walks back around to the other side and thanks God for bench seats. She braces herself against the seat reaches in, and grabs him by his arms, then proceeds to drag him across the seat. After a few minutes more of tugging and pulling and pushing, she manages to get him not only on to the passenger side of the car, but also propped up in such a way that she's able to close the door.
She walks around to other side of the car and gets in. She considers heading back into town- passing out like that... it should merit a trip to the emergency room, no questions asked. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. But she doubts whatever caused this was anything as mundane as a stroke or low blood sugar. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. His brother might have answers, but then again, he might not, and she'd be driving a potentially sick man too many miles into the middle of nowhere. "Fuck." She valiantly restrains the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. Instead, she puts the car in gear and turns around, heading back into town. By the time they hit the ranches and feed stores, Dean starts showing signs of life again. By the time they hit the main drag, he's managed to right himself. He rubs a hand over his face and stares at her through bleary eyes.
"What the fuck just happened?"
"You know, and here I was hoping you'd tell me." Cassie taps her fingers on the steering wheel, still feeling twitchy with the effects of the adrenaline. That had come out a lot more sarcastic than she'd intended. She takes a deep breath. "Soon as we crossed the city limits, it was like someone just flicked a switch. Out you went, I thought you'd had a fucking stroke or something- and on top of that, you know, the whole fucking tree-" She pulls the car over and throws it into park then closes her eyes and presses her lips together, trying desperately to regain her equilibrium.
He rubs his hand over his head. "Shit. I knew coming here was a bad idea."
Cassie opens one eye and looks at him sideways. "I'm getting that," she says flatly. "So what do we do now?"
"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I don't even know for sure what we're dealing with. Just give me a minute." He pinches the bridge of his nose, then pulls out his phone and punches a few buttons. The volume on it must be high, because even where she's sitting, Cassie can dimly hear it ringing. After a moment, someone picks up.
"Bobby. It's me," Dean says. "What exactly were you able to dig up about his town?"
"Dean? What happened? I thought you were going to get Sam." The man sounds taken aback, and Cassie's imagination provides a picture of him- an older, grizzled version of Dean, sitting at a table somewhere, peering bemusedly at the phone.
"Yeah, that was the plan Bobby. But I blacked out- apparently- just past the city limits. I got a feeling something's keeping me on a short leash here, and I wanna know what it is."
"Dean, I don't know what to tell you. You could try catching a bus out of town, and see if the effects wear off. 'Course, my bet is that whatever it is, it's powerful. Could be that the further you go, the worse it'll get."
"Fantastic." Dean bites the word off. "Just...let me know if anything else turns up. Anything. I've got a bad feeling about this, Bobby."
"Me too, kid," the man on the other end says. From the look on his face, Dean doesn't find that assurance particularly comforting. "Bye, Bobby." He hangs up.
"So?" Cassie says, wondering what the next move will be.
He makes a face. "His best suggestion was to keep driving and see if it wears off."
Her expression turns skeptical. "And you want to try that?"
He turns to face her more fully. "Depends. How well do you know CPR?"
"Not that well," she says, emphatic.
He sighs. "Cassie, look, I need to get Sam and we need to get the hell out of here. It's not just the heebie jeebies, we've walked into something bad."
"So what now? Because I have to admit, this is just a little outside my field of expertise."
He doesn't answer her directly. "Cassie," he says, holding his hands out for the keys, "Switch places with me."
Her expression gets even more skeptical. "I don't think so. My nerves haven't recovered that much."
"Look, as long as we stay within town, it shouldn't be a problem."
"You don't even know that for sure," she scoffs. "You're guessing. You have no idea what caused this."
He glowers at her. "I know what I'm doing...and it's my damn car."
"I should be taking you to the hospital, but I'm not - but you know what? I'm not letting you drive, you goddamn stubborn ass."
"Cassie-"
She holds up a hand. "Don't even start with me, Dean." She leans back against the seat, runs a hand up her forehead, and pinches her nose. "Okay, what's the next move here?"
He opens his mouth.
"And if you dare say some shit like, 'you go home, this isn't your problem' I swear to god I will drag your ass off to the hospital and let you explain all this to them."
His mouth falls into a tight, pinched expression, and he works his jaw for a moment before saying, "I don't know. I've got this.. friend who's probably the fastest way out of this problem. But he's not answering his phone, and there could be about a million reasons for that. So that leaves research. Bobby'll probably have more luck, but I guess there might be something up at the college."
"It happens that I know a thing or two about research," Cassie says.
"Yeah, for all the good that'll do," he says. He exhales through his nose. "Tell me they've got a great religious studies department or some big time cultural anthropologists up there."
"I don't know," Cassie says. "Strangely enough, the topic has never come up in my day to day life. But it's not really a research university, Dean."
He shrugs. "Gotta start somewhere, and I'm apparently on a short leash here."
Cassie thinks for a moment, then says, "Well…you know, they may be short on ancient tomes, but they've got a big collection and series of exhibits on the history of the town in the college library. They got a big grant for it, I was there for the opening ceremony last year." She glances back over at Dean. "If there's something weird in the history of town, it'll be there."
He tries to cover a yawn. "Sure, why not."
Cassie gives him a critical once over. "I can make a start on it if you want to get some sleep first," she says.
He rubs his temples. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, I can tell, what with the passing out and everything," she says.
"That was your weird freaky town," Dean says.
"Yeah, maybe, but Dean, you look like seven kinds of shit."
'"Awesome. Thanks, Cassie."
"Seriously though, Dean, listen- you look half dead already. You had something bizarre and probably dangerous happen to you not ten minutes ago. What good will you be for dealing with whatever this is or helping Sam or whatever if you can hardly stand up straight?"
"I'll manage."
"Don't give me any of that macho bullshit."
"It's not macho bullshit," he says, and sags back against the seat. "I just don't have time. Sam and me-" he licks his lips and glances away. "We're in deep shit, Cassie, and it only ever seems to get deeper. I can't be here- I've got trouble on my tail that I just can't shake, and you don't want it touching down here."
Cassie watches him for a moment, and thinks. "Okay," she says. "Okay." She starts the car again. "But I'm still helping, and you're still going to take it easy."
"Seriously, I'm fine. Let's go back to the library, I'll drop you off and get your out of your life. This isn't your fight, and I don't need anyone else jumping in the line of fire for me.'
Cassie rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "You sure do have a high opinion of yourself in very selective ways." Cassie says, "I'm offering to help with the research, Dean. I'm a reporter, it's kind of my specialty, and I've got a lot more access to information than you, felony impersonation or no. I'm not taking a bullet for you here. I'm just hitting the books."
"That's probably more dangerous," he mutters, but before she can inquire, he speaks again. "Cassie," he says, sounding tired, "You don't owe me anything. This doesn't involve you. Go home and forget you ever saw me."
Cassie brushes a lock of her hair back and tucks it behind her ear. "You think that's what this is about? Guilt or...obligation?"
"Well I know you're not trying to get into my pants," he says, and his face is briefly haunted by the ghost of his old flirty smile.
"Nah," she says, and she reaches over and squeezes his hand. "I've got no debts to pay."
"Hey, I did save your life," he says, but it sounds like a forced, rote response. There's no feeling behind it.
She shrugs. "You would've done that regardless. That's just who you are- I'm not giving you special credit for that." She turns the car back onto the road. "We'll check out as much as we can from the library, and then we can head back to my place to get a start on it, and maybe you'll stop looking like death warmed over."
Dean just looks at her, and his gaze doesn't waver. "Why?"
Cassie shoots him an offended glance, then turns back to the road. "I know you don't think I became a reporter for the money," she says. "And I'd be insulted if you thought I could ever be the kind of person who could see shit go down and turn a blind eye to it, especially after what happened to my family."
She slows the car as they approach the intersection, and pulls to a stop at the red light.
"That's not enough," he says. "Not for this."
Cassie shrugs, and then gives him a level look. "It is for me."
He holds her gaze for just a beat longer, and there's a fragility in his eyes she wouldn't expect from the hard, wounded man he's become. He looks away. She wonders, just for a second, what he must have faced to have made even small kindnesses seem unendurable. She doesn't want to know.
"Fine," he says. He forces his face into a scowl. His voice is gruff. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Glad we've gotten that cleared up," she says, and she guns the car as the light changes, just because she can, and just to prove her point. She swings the old behemoth through the turn and up the hill to the college.
The silence lasts until Cassie turns into the college entrance and heads for the visitor parking lot.
"I hate coming up here," Cassie says, if only to create some verbal distance between now and the awkwardness of their last conversation. "It makes me feel ancient. It's like- I remember being a student, I remember what it felt like, the outlook, all that. But it feels like such a damn long time ago. And then there's all the students- the grad students even, and they look like such babies, but every once in awhile, one of the older staff members will mistake me for a student….and urgh, I don't know why, but that makes it worse."
Dean huffs something that might be agreement. "I know the feeling."
Cassie raises an inquiring eyebrow.
"The occasional campus case or whatever." He gives a half shrug. "Harder to get information outta people- they used to just peg me as someone's nosy buddy, you know?"
She hides a smile. "And now, what, you're...ooh, taken as a campus creeper?"
"What? No," he says, but he scowls as he does so, and she knows she's right. She grins, and that just makes his scowl grow deeper. "I stick to the Fed suit these days," he says, "since they tend to think I'm one anyway- fuck if I know why- and it's a pain in the ass. They won't say half as much to a cop as they would to the drunk, gossipy frat boy."
She finds a parking spot and stops the car. "Well, you'd be surprised what they're willing to tell a reporter. You should it some time."
"Nah," he says. "That's more Sam's gig."
"Well, it's your gig this afternoon," she says, getting out of the car. "Marshal Make Believe won't fly up here."
Dean gets out and then bangs the door shut behind him. "I'll start practicing the puppy eyes."
"You need less practice than you seem to think," Cassie says wryly. She tosses him the keys over the hood of the car in a gesture of good faith.
He catches them, then curls his fingers around them like a talisman.
"C'mon," she says as he tucks the keys into his back pocket, "There are some books with our names on them."
* * *
2004
The party carried on deep into the night, and seemed disinclined to slow down at all..Cassie eventually ended up dragging Dean outside, the chill night air a welcome respite from the stuffy, beer-tinged atmosphere of the party. It's quiet out here, the raucous noises of the party somehow dampened and stilled by the sheer serenity of the spring night. Cassie slumped carelessly against the back of the old wooden bench set beneath the spread branches of a huge and sprawling tree. She was tired and a little tipsy and the lateness of the hour lent her limbs a loose boneless quality she didn't care to correct.
Dean watched her sprawl across the bench from a few feet away, drink still perched in his hand and his mouth quirked. There was something soft in his eyes that she couldn't begin to guess at - not the familiar softness of lust-driven charm, nor the gooey looks of romantic fantasies, but something deep and still. She looked away, flustered, feeling like she'd caught sight of something secret. She gazed upwards instead, through the interlaced branches of the tree. The branches were still bare, the little green buds that would be visible come daybreak still hidden against the backdrop of the clear and moonless night sky. Cassie tilted her head back further, until the stars seemed to be draped between the boughs like unseasonable christmas lights. She stayed that way for several long moments, the only sign of the passing of time being the goosebumps the cool night air raised up and down her arms. Eventually, the bench creaked and she her feet were temporarily lifted to make room for the admittedly fine ass of her companion.
She didn't look up, just drawled, "Dean Winchester, you better not be trying to sweep me off my feet."
"Never," he said. He paused. "Unless it's working." The last was said with an exaggerated leer. Cassie burst out laughing. Dean grinned back, easy and open.
"So why are you really here," Cassie asked, "In town, I mean."
He shrugged. "I didn't bullshit you. I was investigating those deaths I told you about."
"Don't get me wrong, but- why?"
He glanced over at her. "It's just what we do." He saw the question on her face before she could ask it. "My family. Well, my dad and me at least. It's kind of the family business."
"What, you're private investigators?"
He made a face. "Something like that. But the details are a lot depressing when they aren't a lot boring-"
"Like the deaths at the Ridges," she filled in.
"Yeah. And it's a beautiful night and I'm talking to this gorgeous girl, so-"
Cassie waved a hand and nodded. "Talking about parents isn't what you had in mind, huh?"
"Well, it was pretty far down the list," he confided with a wink.
"I bet," she said. "But all right, let me ask you this- if it's so boring and depressing, why do you do it? Your dad?"
"Man, you're persistent. But yeah, I guess that's part of it. Y'know." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Not to get all emotional about it or anything, but my brother already took off and - I can't do that, you know?"
"Family's important," Cassie agreed.
"Exactly," he said, throwing his hands up in the air, "But you'd think I was the only person who gets that." He rolled his eyes. "But you know- the thing is, that's not really it. I mean, it's there, and it's important, but it's not why I do it."
"So why do you?"
He shifted in the seat. "Okay, I know this is going to sound a little corny, but-" he shrugged and stopped. He actually sounded sheepish. Cassie was amazed.
"Can't be worse than your pick-up lines," she teased. "So tell me."
He rubbed a hand over his head again. "Okay, fine. So the thing is- there are people walking around today who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for what my dad does. And you know- that matters. It's a hard and ugly job, but I get to wake up each day knowing what I do makes a difference." The last was spoken with heated conviction, as if he expected an argument.
Cassie leaned back and smiled to herself. "That's not so corny," she said. "You gotta care about stuff like that. It's how you know you're alive, right?"
He shifted again, obviously uncomfortable, and shrugged. "Yeah, so, anyway. What about you? Why are you here? What are you in for?"
"Journalism major," she said lightly, "and yes I do know about the job market and no I don't care, so don't give me any shit about it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, holding his hands up. "So you're going to grow up to be Lois Lane, huh," he said, but his tone was light and teasing.
She poked at him with her foot. "Hell no. I'm not waiting around for Superman." She paused, and then she added, "And I certainly wouldn't be fooled by a pair of glasses, for God's sake."
"Nah," he agreed.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, which were covered in goosebumps. "Brr," she said. "Let's go back inside." She pulled her feet back and sat up. Dean got to his feet and she followed suit.
"Yeah, it's about time for another drink," Dean said, as they headed inside. "What can I grab you?"
"Mmm," she thought for a second, "I think just some water."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I've got a system," she said, shrugging. "Two drinks, glass of water, rinse and repeat."
"It's your liver," he said, and then headed for the kitchen. Cassie lingered near the sofa, which was vacant except for a frat boy unsuccessfully trying to hit on Sherri's friend Madeline. Madeline rolled her eyes and walked off, and after a minute, the frat boy wandered off, dejected. Cassie slid in and claimed the sofa before anyone else could. She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned, smiling, expecting to see Dean.
Instead, she saw a tall, muscle-bound man she dimly recognized as one of the football players from earlier in the evening. Shit. She smiled at him brightly. "Hey," she said. "How's it going?"
He stared at her, looking slightly puzzled. Even ignoring the smell, he was pretty clearly three sheets to the wind, and she had a long couple of seconds where she hoped against hope that maybe, maybe, he was just a little too sloshed to place her.
"Hey," he said. "You were with that guy from the bar," he said, "the one who took all our money."
"Didn't your mama teach you not to gamble?" Cassie said. The man ignored her, which pissed her off, but she soon realized what had drawn his attention. She hadn't noticed that Dean had returned from the kitchen until he stepped around the sofa to stand beside her, drinks still in hand. Several more members of the football team materialized behind the irate linebacker. Dean's expression remained calm, but there was a sudden sharpness about him that hadn't been there even a moment before.
There were whispers all around them. The room, which had been relatively sparsely populated just a minute ago, was now full of people, watching attentively.
"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" Dean said, his demeanor still completely casual.
"Yeah," said the first man, his voice slightly slurred and his stance decidedly unsteady, "you can give me my money back."
"My money," Dean corrected. "You know, what with the part where you lost it."
"Dean," Cassie said, hoping her tone suitably conveyed the message that she had no interest in getting an academic suspension just a few short months of graduating. He flicked his eyes at her, his expression briefly apologetic.
"Okay," Dean said, "I can see how that might come across as kind of insensitive." The football player glared, and clenched his hands. His knuckles cracked, and the crowd's murmur went up a few notches. Dean held up his hands. "Let's be fair here- I'll make you a deal. How's this...hmm. Yeah. You can have it back- if you can take it off me."
Cassie rolled her eyes heavenward, and began mentally composing her letter of apology to the Dean of Students. "Listen," she said. "This is a party, so why don't we all just go back to having a good time." She glanced over at Dean, who shrugged. "Fine by me."
"I want my money back," the football player reiterated, not budging.
Dean held his hands up in the universal gesture for what can you do. "In that case- fine. But what do you say we take this outside, huh? Just you and me, one on one. If you think you're man enough."
The football player snorted through his nose. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said.
Dean turned to Cassie. "Hold these," he said, theatrically shoving the drinks into her hands. He caught her eye. She gave him a questioning look. His expression didn't change, but he flicked his eyes back towards the kitchen.
"So are we doing this, or do you need to find someone to hold your tiara first?" Dean said, but it was mostly directed at the crowd. There was a mixture of cheers and boos. Before anyone could react, Dean spun on his heel and headed towards the door with purpose. As he reached the door, he tossed a contemptuous look over his shoulder. "I'll be outside," he said, and then swung himself through the door.
The football player scowled, clenched his fists again, and moved towards the door. His buddies shared confused glances. One of them shrugged, and then as a group, they followed the first one out.
With the attention off her, Cassie melted into the crowd and sidled towards the kitchen. Distantly, she heard what might have been a shout and a cry of pain. As soon as she was outside the view of the main room, she dropped the cups on the counter and bolted through the back door. As she expected, Dean was waiting for her, his eyes shining.
There was another angry shout from the other side of the house. Dean grabbed her hand. "C'mon," he said, and then took off running, pulling Cassie behind him. Cassie held on tight. They hopped the low fence separating the house from the one behind it, then tore through the other ard and out to the street. Cassie pulled Dean around a corner and down the street, towards the jogging path. They ran until they were nearly breathless, stopping only where the path broadened into a long and winding park. It wasn't large- mostly just large, looming trees lining the path, some hedges, and a few benches set back into small groves. Cassie slowed to a walk after they'd gone around a few bends in the path, not easily visible from the road. Dean pulled away to collapse against a tree. He doubled over in nearly-silent laughter. He swiped at his eyes. "You should have seen his face," he laughed.
His mirth was catching. Cassie grinned back. "What happened?"
"I tripped him as he came out the door, and then bolted before he knew which way was up," he said. "I guess he wasn't expecting it." He smiled up at Cassie. "I told you I wasn't planning on committing any felonies today."
"Guess you did," Cassie said, still grinning. "But now I'm wondering how on earth you've managed to live this long. Do you always go looking for trouble?"
"It finds me," he said, "And I'm just that good."
Cassie rolled her eyes, and lightly batted at his shoulder with her hand. "Your guardian angel must have ulcers," she said.
"He's taken it up with his union rep," Dean said, but before Cassie could reply, she was interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps and angry voices. Dean pulled her back against the tree, and then crouched down, moving into the shadow of the large bush between them and the main path. She followed him down, staying close as to minimize their profile. Dean turned towards her, so that their shoulders were nearly brushing, bent in closer, and held a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes. She'd kind of already figured that much out.
The footsteps and voices grew nearer. Cassie held her breath.
"This is pointless, man," said a voice only a few feet away. "The asshole's got to be miles away by now." There was the snap and crunch of small sticks and gravel underfoot as the speaker turned in a slow circle.
"Fuck," said another voice. It sounded a lot like the linebacker.
"Let's head back to the party," said the first voice.
There was a grumble from the presumptive linebacker. "Fine," he said. The whole bush shook after he kicked it hard, only about two feet to Cassie's left. Small sticks and leaves rained down around her. The linebacker stomped off.
Cassie continued to hold her breath for another few seconds, then let it out in a sigh. Dean gave her a sheepish grin. She butted him in the shoulder with her own. He reached up and pulled a stick from her hair and tossed it away. Their eyes met. In the dark, Cassie couldn't see the color of his eyes, but she didn't really need to. She'd been noticing them all night: their color, the way they shone with humor, belying his smirks and undercutting the sleazy one liners. The way his eyes had hardly strayed from her all night. Oh, yes. She didn't need light to remember their brilliance.
The gaze went on for another long, uncomfortable moment, not breaking, not even shifting. Cassie felt her pulse quicken. Before she could think twice, she leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were softer than she expected. He returned the kiss before she could begin to doubt herself, and the kiss was warm and inviting, not at all the artless, careless kiss of the player she'd originally taken him for. She leaned forward a little more, deepening the kiss, tasting the beer on his breath, feeling the warmth of it against her own chilled lips, breathing in the smell of his skin.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled them both to their feet, picking her up so effortlessly that she felt like she might float away. His touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, and he was strong, so very strong. The thought sent a pleasant little shiver coursing through her.
Time evaporated. Somewhere in the branches of the tree above them, an owl hooted. She was unsure how long they stayed locked in that embrace, how long it was before she broke away, if only to catch her breath. And when she did, she found she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Dean stared back at her, his eyes wide and startled, his face mirroring back to her her own surprise. He tightened his arm around her, holding her so close she could feel his heart beating. Cassie relaxed against him, relieved of some burden she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying. She felt giddy. Euphoria bubbled up through her veins like her blood had become champagne.
"I live only a few blocks from here," she said, and the words had spun off into the darkness before she'd even realized she was going to say them.
He froze, and then his answering grin lit up the night. He spun her around in a quick circle, and she threw back her head and laughed.
It was a good night.
* * *
TBC.
Title: Solo Cups (Silver Linings)
Summary: Set late season 5. Dean runs into Cassie while investigating the strange fortunes of a small town. She's a little surprised to see him, considering he supposedly died in 2008. He's a little surprised to see her, especially since the whole thing is probably a trap...
Word Count: 5500 this chapter, about 20k total so far.
Pairings: Past Dean/Cassie (though even my best attempt at het is actually still pretty gen.) Some UST. This may change.
Previous parts here: [1] [2].
A/N: Hey look, I'm posting WIP style. Maybe that'll inspire me to actually finish this beast. Warning: Unbeta'd, though volunteers and suggestions are welcome...
2010
Dean begins to relax as soon as the neighborhoods give way to small ranches and the occasional farm supply store. He's never going to be mistaken for relaxed, but he seemed less tense, less hunted. She can already see him rewriting the whole story of this misadventure in his head- it's no longer a problem, now simply a near miss, soon to be forgotten and left behind. If she were still twenty-two, that would probably upset her, but it's been a long time since then, and she's done a lot of growing up. Whatever catastrophe he's running from has nothing to do with her.
But they've got a long drive ahead of them, and she's a reporter. And she kind of suspects that she's going to be catching a bus back into town, so she breaks the silence with some deliberate nosiness.
"So why is everyone convinced you're a dead serial killer?"
He startles a little, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Uh, what?"
"Your reputation as a serial killer. And unless you picked up some new hobbies, it was of the kind that can't be explained by- I don't know, staking vampires or whatever it is you do."
"Beheading," he says.
"What?"
"What you do to vampires," he says, but stops at that.
She gives him a level stare. "Don't change the subject. C'mon, spill. I've had to put up with questions about serial killers and your supposed women-hating tendencies for years."
He rubs his temple and squints at her. "You'll probably regret asking."
"Just tell me."
He makes a face. "Shapeshifter. It was already killing people, it just added my face to its repertoire."
"So why was it….?"
"Tying people up and torturing them to death?" He shakes his head. "I've got no idea."
"So, what, it was basically a serial killer with super powers?" Even knowing what she knows, she can't quite keep the incredulity out of her voice.
He shrugs. "Shifters, man. They're all crazier than bedbugs."
She glances at the window, processing this. They've finally made it to the city limits, nothing before them but a hundred miles of highway.
...and a tree. The car is drifting across the line. "Dean, hey!" She glances back at him. She'd expected to see him yawning, maybe- but what she doesn't expect is to see him slumped over against the door.
And there's still headed straight for the tree. "Fuck!" She reaches over, first for the steering wheel, jerking them away from the tree and back on the road, but she over corrects and now they're swerving from side to side as she tries to steer from way, way, way over on the passanger side of the goddamn behemoth of a car. His foot must still be on the accelerator, too, because they're not slowing down. She curses the seatbelt, finally managing to unbuckle it with her other hand, giving her the freedom to move. Still holding on to the wheel with her left hand, she reaches over and pulls the car out of drive and down into neutral.
The car immediately begins to coast to a stop, and she manages to steer the car onto the shoulder. The car comes to a stop. She reaches over and turns the ignition to off. She rests her head against the window for a second, then pushes the door open and stumbles out. She walks around to Dean's side of the car, and opens the door, careful not to let him fall out as she does so. Once she's sure he isn't going to tip over, she reaches down, removes his foot from the accelerator, and puts on the parking brake.
"This is why it never would have worked out between us," she tells Dean, and her voice sounds so calm, too calm, but her heart is racing. He doesn't say anything, of course. He's still unconscious, though his breathing seems fine. "Trouble follows you around like a puppy. You should come with a Surgeon General's warning." Cassie undoes his seatbelt and pushes him onto his side, his head pointed towards the passenger walks back around to the other side and thanks God for bench seats. She braces herself against the seat reaches in, and grabs him by his arms, then proceeds to drag him across the seat. After a few minutes more of tugging and pulling and pushing, she manages to get him not only on to the passenger side of the car, but also propped up in such a way that she's able to close the door.
She walks around to other side of the car and gets in. She considers heading back into town- passing out like that... it should merit a trip to the emergency room, no questions asked. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. But she doubts whatever caused this was anything as mundane as a stroke or low blood sugar. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. His brother might have answers, but then again, he might not, and she'd be driving a potentially sick man too many miles into the middle of nowhere. "Fuck." She valiantly restrains the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. Instead, she puts the car in gear and turns around, heading back into town. By the time they hit the ranches and feed stores, Dean starts showing signs of life again. By the time they hit the main drag, he's managed to right himself. He rubs a hand over his face and stares at her through bleary eyes.
"What the fuck just happened?"
"You know, and here I was hoping you'd tell me." Cassie taps her fingers on the steering wheel, still feeling twitchy with the effects of the adrenaline. That had come out a lot more sarcastic than she'd intended. She takes a deep breath. "Soon as we crossed the city limits, it was like someone just flicked a switch. Out you went, I thought you'd had a fucking stroke or something- and on top of that, you know, the whole fucking tree-" She pulls the car over and throws it into park then closes her eyes and presses her lips together, trying desperately to regain her equilibrium.
He rubs his hand over his head. "Shit. I knew coming here was a bad idea."
Cassie opens one eye and looks at him sideways. "I'm getting that," she says flatly. "So what do we do now?"
"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I don't even know for sure what we're dealing with. Just give me a minute." He pinches the bridge of his nose, then pulls out his phone and punches a few buttons. The volume on it must be high, because even where she's sitting, Cassie can dimly hear it ringing. After a moment, someone picks up.
"Bobby. It's me," Dean says. "What exactly were you able to dig up about his town?"
"Dean? What happened? I thought you were going to get Sam." The man sounds taken aback, and Cassie's imagination provides a picture of him- an older, grizzled version of Dean, sitting at a table somewhere, peering bemusedly at the phone.
"Yeah, that was the plan Bobby. But I blacked out- apparently- just past the city limits. I got a feeling something's keeping me on a short leash here, and I wanna know what it is."
"Dean, I don't know what to tell you. You could try catching a bus out of town, and see if the effects wear off. 'Course, my bet is that whatever it is, it's powerful. Could be that the further you go, the worse it'll get."
"Fantastic." Dean bites the word off. "Just...let me know if anything else turns up. Anything. I've got a bad feeling about this, Bobby."
"Me too, kid," the man on the other end says. From the look on his face, Dean doesn't find that assurance particularly comforting. "Bye, Bobby." He hangs up.
"So?" Cassie says, wondering what the next move will be.
He makes a face. "His best suggestion was to keep driving and see if it wears off."
Her expression turns skeptical. "And you want to try that?"
He turns to face her more fully. "Depends. How well do you know CPR?"
"Not that well," she says, emphatic.
He sighs. "Cassie, look, I need to get Sam and we need to get the hell out of here. It's not just the heebie jeebies, we've walked into something bad."
"So what now? Because I have to admit, this is just a little outside my field of expertise."
He doesn't answer her directly. "Cassie," he says, holding his hands out for the keys, "Switch places with me."
Her expression gets even more skeptical. "I don't think so. My nerves haven't recovered that much."
"Look, as long as we stay within town, it shouldn't be a problem."
"You don't even know that for sure," she scoffs. "You're guessing. You have no idea what caused this."
He glowers at her. "I know what I'm doing...and it's my damn car."
"I should be taking you to the hospital, but I'm not - but you know what? I'm not letting you drive, you goddamn stubborn ass."
"Cassie-"
She holds up a hand. "Don't even start with me, Dean." She leans back against the seat, runs a hand up her forehead, and pinches her nose. "Okay, what's the next move here?"
He opens his mouth.
"And if you dare say some shit like, 'you go home, this isn't your problem' I swear to god I will drag your ass off to the hospital and let you explain all this to them."
His mouth falls into a tight, pinched expression, and he works his jaw for a moment before saying, "I don't know. I've got this.. friend who's probably the fastest way out of this problem. But he's not answering his phone, and there could be about a million reasons for that. So that leaves research. Bobby'll probably have more luck, but I guess there might be something up at the college."
"It happens that I know a thing or two about research," Cassie says.
"Yeah, for all the good that'll do," he says. He exhales through his nose. "Tell me they've got a great religious studies department or some big time cultural anthropologists up there."
"I don't know," Cassie says. "Strangely enough, the topic has never come up in my day to day life. But it's not really a research university, Dean."
He shrugs. "Gotta start somewhere, and I'm apparently on a short leash here."
Cassie thinks for a moment, then says, "Well…you know, they may be short on ancient tomes, but they've got a big collection and series of exhibits on the history of the town in the college library. They got a big grant for it, I was there for the opening ceremony last year." She glances back over at Dean. "If there's something weird in the history of town, it'll be there."
He tries to cover a yawn. "Sure, why not."
Cassie gives him a critical once over. "I can make a start on it if you want to get some sleep first," she says.
He rubs his temples. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, I can tell, what with the passing out and everything," she says.
"That was your weird freaky town," Dean says.
"Yeah, maybe, but Dean, you look like seven kinds of shit."
'"Awesome. Thanks, Cassie."
"Seriously though, Dean, listen- you look half dead already. You had something bizarre and probably dangerous happen to you not ten minutes ago. What good will you be for dealing with whatever this is or helping Sam or whatever if you can hardly stand up straight?"
"I'll manage."
"Don't give me any of that macho bullshit."
"It's not macho bullshit," he says, and sags back against the seat. "I just don't have time. Sam and me-" he licks his lips and glances away. "We're in deep shit, Cassie, and it only ever seems to get deeper. I can't be here- I've got trouble on my tail that I just can't shake, and you don't want it touching down here."
Cassie watches him for a moment, and thinks. "Okay," she says. "Okay." She starts the car again. "But I'm still helping, and you're still going to take it easy."
"Seriously, I'm fine. Let's go back to the library, I'll drop you off and get your out of your life. This isn't your fight, and I don't need anyone else jumping in the line of fire for me.'
Cassie rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "You sure do have a high opinion of yourself in very selective ways." Cassie says, "I'm offering to help with the research, Dean. I'm a reporter, it's kind of my specialty, and I've got a lot more access to information than you, felony impersonation or no. I'm not taking a bullet for you here. I'm just hitting the books."
"That's probably more dangerous," he mutters, but before she can inquire, he speaks again. "Cassie," he says, sounding tired, "You don't owe me anything. This doesn't involve you. Go home and forget you ever saw me."
Cassie brushes a lock of her hair back and tucks it behind her ear. "You think that's what this is about? Guilt or...obligation?"
"Well I know you're not trying to get into my pants," he says, and his face is briefly haunted by the ghost of his old flirty smile.
"Nah," she says, and she reaches over and squeezes his hand. "I've got no debts to pay."
"Hey, I did save your life," he says, but it sounds like a forced, rote response. There's no feeling behind it.
She shrugs. "You would've done that regardless. That's just who you are- I'm not giving you special credit for that." She turns the car back onto the road. "We'll check out as much as we can from the library, and then we can head back to my place to get a start on it, and maybe you'll stop looking like death warmed over."
Dean just looks at her, and his gaze doesn't waver. "Why?"
Cassie shoots him an offended glance, then turns back to the road. "I know you don't think I became a reporter for the money," she says. "And I'd be insulted if you thought I could ever be the kind of person who could see shit go down and turn a blind eye to it, especially after what happened to my family."
She slows the car as they approach the intersection, and pulls to a stop at the red light.
"That's not enough," he says. "Not for this."
Cassie shrugs, and then gives him a level look. "It is for me."
He holds her gaze for just a beat longer, and there's a fragility in his eyes she wouldn't expect from the hard, wounded man he's become. He looks away. She wonders, just for a second, what he must have faced to have made even small kindnesses seem unendurable. She doesn't want to know.
"Fine," he says. He forces his face into a scowl. His voice is gruff. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Glad we've gotten that cleared up," she says, and she guns the car as the light changes, just because she can, and just to prove her point. She swings the old behemoth through the turn and up the hill to the college.
The silence lasts until Cassie turns into the college entrance and heads for the visitor parking lot.
"I hate coming up here," Cassie says, if only to create some verbal distance between now and the awkwardness of their last conversation. "It makes me feel ancient. It's like- I remember being a student, I remember what it felt like, the outlook, all that. But it feels like such a damn long time ago. And then there's all the students- the grad students even, and they look like such babies, but every once in awhile, one of the older staff members will mistake me for a student….and urgh, I don't know why, but that makes it worse."
Dean huffs something that might be agreement. "I know the feeling."
Cassie raises an inquiring eyebrow.
"The occasional campus case or whatever." He gives a half shrug. "Harder to get information outta people- they used to just peg me as someone's nosy buddy, you know?"
She hides a smile. "And now, what, you're...ooh, taken as a campus creeper?"
"What? No," he says, but he scowls as he does so, and she knows she's right. She grins, and that just makes his scowl grow deeper. "I stick to the Fed suit these days," he says, "since they tend to think I'm one anyway- fuck if I know why- and it's a pain in the ass. They won't say half as much to a cop as they would to the drunk, gossipy frat boy."
She finds a parking spot and stops the car. "Well, you'd be surprised what they're willing to tell a reporter. You should it some time."
"Nah," he says. "That's more Sam's gig."
"Well, it's your gig this afternoon," she says, getting out of the car. "Marshal Make Believe won't fly up here."
Dean gets out and then bangs the door shut behind him. "I'll start practicing the puppy eyes."
"You need less practice than you seem to think," Cassie says wryly. She tosses him the keys over the hood of the car in a gesture of good faith.
He catches them, then curls his fingers around them like a talisman.
"C'mon," she says as he tucks the keys into his back pocket, "There are some books with our names on them."
* * *
2004
The party carried on deep into the night, and seemed disinclined to slow down at all..Cassie eventually ended up dragging Dean outside, the chill night air a welcome respite from the stuffy, beer-tinged atmosphere of the party. It's quiet out here, the raucous noises of the party somehow dampened and stilled by the sheer serenity of the spring night. Cassie slumped carelessly against the back of the old wooden bench set beneath the spread branches of a huge and sprawling tree. She was tired and a little tipsy and the lateness of the hour lent her limbs a loose boneless quality she didn't care to correct.
Dean watched her sprawl across the bench from a few feet away, drink still perched in his hand and his mouth quirked. There was something soft in his eyes that she couldn't begin to guess at - not the familiar softness of lust-driven charm, nor the gooey looks of romantic fantasies, but something deep and still. She looked away, flustered, feeling like she'd caught sight of something secret. She gazed upwards instead, through the interlaced branches of the tree. The branches were still bare, the little green buds that would be visible come daybreak still hidden against the backdrop of the clear and moonless night sky. Cassie tilted her head back further, until the stars seemed to be draped between the boughs like unseasonable christmas lights. She stayed that way for several long moments, the only sign of the passing of time being the goosebumps the cool night air raised up and down her arms. Eventually, the bench creaked and she her feet were temporarily lifted to make room for the admittedly fine ass of her companion.
She didn't look up, just drawled, "Dean Winchester, you better not be trying to sweep me off my feet."
"Never," he said. He paused. "Unless it's working." The last was said with an exaggerated leer. Cassie burst out laughing. Dean grinned back, easy and open.
"So why are you really here," Cassie asked, "In town, I mean."
He shrugged. "I didn't bullshit you. I was investigating those deaths I told you about."
"Don't get me wrong, but- why?"
He glanced over at her. "It's just what we do." He saw the question on her face before she could ask it. "My family. Well, my dad and me at least. It's kind of the family business."
"What, you're private investigators?"
He made a face. "Something like that. But the details are a lot depressing when they aren't a lot boring-"
"Like the deaths at the Ridges," she filled in.
"Yeah. And it's a beautiful night and I'm talking to this gorgeous girl, so-"
Cassie waved a hand and nodded. "Talking about parents isn't what you had in mind, huh?"
"Well, it was pretty far down the list," he confided with a wink.
"I bet," she said. "But all right, let me ask you this- if it's so boring and depressing, why do you do it? Your dad?"
"Man, you're persistent. But yeah, I guess that's part of it. Y'know." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Not to get all emotional about it or anything, but my brother already took off and - I can't do that, you know?"
"Family's important," Cassie agreed.
"Exactly," he said, throwing his hands up in the air, "But you'd think I was the only person who gets that." He rolled his eyes. "But you know- the thing is, that's not really it. I mean, it's there, and it's important, but it's not why I do it."
"So why do you?"
He shifted in the seat. "Okay, I know this is going to sound a little corny, but-" he shrugged and stopped. He actually sounded sheepish. Cassie was amazed.
"Can't be worse than your pick-up lines," she teased. "So tell me."
He rubbed a hand over his head again. "Okay, fine. So the thing is- there are people walking around today who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for what my dad does. And you know- that matters. It's a hard and ugly job, but I get to wake up each day knowing what I do makes a difference." The last was spoken with heated conviction, as if he expected an argument.
Cassie leaned back and smiled to herself. "That's not so corny," she said. "You gotta care about stuff like that. It's how you know you're alive, right?"
He shifted again, obviously uncomfortable, and shrugged. "Yeah, so, anyway. What about you? Why are you here? What are you in for?"
"Journalism major," she said lightly, "and yes I do know about the job market and no I don't care, so don't give me any shit about it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, holding his hands up. "So you're going to grow up to be Lois Lane, huh," he said, but his tone was light and teasing.
She poked at him with her foot. "Hell no. I'm not waiting around for Superman." She paused, and then she added, "And I certainly wouldn't be fooled by a pair of glasses, for God's sake."
"Nah," he agreed.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, which were covered in goosebumps. "Brr," she said. "Let's go back inside." She pulled her feet back and sat up. Dean got to his feet and she followed suit.
"Yeah, it's about time for another drink," Dean said, as they headed inside. "What can I grab you?"
"Mmm," she thought for a second, "I think just some water."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I've got a system," she said, shrugging. "Two drinks, glass of water, rinse and repeat."
"It's your liver," he said, and then headed for the kitchen. Cassie lingered near the sofa, which was vacant except for a frat boy unsuccessfully trying to hit on Sherri's friend Madeline. Madeline rolled her eyes and walked off, and after a minute, the frat boy wandered off, dejected. Cassie slid in and claimed the sofa before anyone else could. She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned, smiling, expecting to see Dean.
Instead, she saw a tall, muscle-bound man she dimly recognized as one of the football players from earlier in the evening. Shit. She smiled at him brightly. "Hey," she said. "How's it going?"
He stared at her, looking slightly puzzled. Even ignoring the smell, he was pretty clearly three sheets to the wind, and she had a long couple of seconds where she hoped against hope that maybe, maybe, he was just a little too sloshed to place her.
"Hey," he said. "You were with that guy from the bar," he said, "the one who took all our money."
"Didn't your mama teach you not to gamble?" Cassie said. The man ignored her, which pissed her off, but she soon realized what had drawn his attention. She hadn't noticed that Dean had returned from the kitchen until he stepped around the sofa to stand beside her, drinks still in hand. Several more members of the football team materialized behind the irate linebacker. Dean's expression remained calm, but there was a sudden sharpness about him that hadn't been there even a moment before.
There were whispers all around them. The room, which had been relatively sparsely populated just a minute ago, was now full of people, watching attentively.
"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" Dean said, his demeanor still completely casual.
"Yeah," said the first man, his voice slightly slurred and his stance decidedly unsteady, "you can give me my money back."
"My money," Dean corrected. "You know, what with the part where you lost it."
"Dean," Cassie said, hoping her tone suitably conveyed the message that she had no interest in getting an academic suspension just a few short months of graduating. He flicked his eyes at her, his expression briefly apologetic.
"Okay," Dean said, "I can see how that might come across as kind of insensitive." The football player glared, and clenched his hands. His knuckles cracked, and the crowd's murmur went up a few notches. Dean held up his hands. "Let's be fair here- I'll make you a deal. How's this...hmm. Yeah. You can have it back- if you can take it off me."
Cassie rolled her eyes heavenward, and began mentally composing her letter of apology to the Dean of Students. "Listen," she said. "This is a party, so why don't we all just go back to having a good time." She glanced over at Dean, who shrugged. "Fine by me."
"I want my money back," the football player reiterated, not budging.
Dean held his hands up in the universal gesture for what can you do. "In that case- fine. But what do you say we take this outside, huh? Just you and me, one on one. If you think you're man enough."
The football player snorted through his nose. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said.
Dean turned to Cassie. "Hold these," he said, theatrically shoving the drinks into her hands. He caught her eye. She gave him a questioning look. His expression didn't change, but he flicked his eyes back towards the kitchen.
"So are we doing this, or do you need to find someone to hold your tiara first?" Dean said, but it was mostly directed at the crowd. There was a mixture of cheers and boos. Before anyone could react, Dean spun on his heel and headed towards the door with purpose. As he reached the door, he tossed a contemptuous look over his shoulder. "I'll be outside," he said, and then swung himself through the door.
The football player scowled, clenched his fists again, and moved towards the door. His buddies shared confused glances. One of them shrugged, and then as a group, they followed the first one out.
With the attention off her, Cassie melted into the crowd and sidled towards the kitchen. Distantly, she heard what might have been a shout and a cry of pain. As soon as she was outside the view of the main room, she dropped the cups on the counter and bolted through the back door. As she expected, Dean was waiting for her, his eyes shining.
There was another angry shout from the other side of the house. Dean grabbed her hand. "C'mon," he said, and then took off running, pulling Cassie behind him. Cassie held on tight. They hopped the low fence separating the house from the one behind it, then tore through the other ard and out to the street. Cassie pulled Dean around a corner and down the street, towards the jogging path. They ran until they were nearly breathless, stopping only where the path broadened into a long and winding park. It wasn't large- mostly just large, looming trees lining the path, some hedges, and a few benches set back into small groves. Cassie slowed to a walk after they'd gone around a few bends in the path, not easily visible from the road. Dean pulled away to collapse against a tree. He doubled over in nearly-silent laughter. He swiped at his eyes. "You should have seen his face," he laughed.
His mirth was catching. Cassie grinned back. "What happened?"
"I tripped him as he came out the door, and then bolted before he knew which way was up," he said. "I guess he wasn't expecting it." He smiled up at Cassie. "I told you I wasn't planning on committing any felonies today."
"Guess you did," Cassie said, still grinning. "But now I'm wondering how on earth you've managed to live this long. Do you always go looking for trouble?"
"It finds me," he said, "And I'm just that good."
Cassie rolled her eyes, and lightly batted at his shoulder with her hand. "Your guardian angel must have ulcers," she said.
"He's taken it up with his union rep," Dean said, but before Cassie could reply, she was interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps and angry voices. Dean pulled her back against the tree, and then crouched down, moving into the shadow of the large bush between them and the main path. She followed him down, staying close as to minimize their profile. Dean turned towards her, so that their shoulders were nearly brushing, bent in closer, and held a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes. She'd kind of already figured that much out.
The footsteps and voices grew nearer. Cassie held her breath.
"This is pointless, man," said a voice only a few feet away. "The asshole's got to be miles away by now." There was the snap and crunch of small sticks and gravel underfoot as the speaker turned in a slow circle.
"Fuck," said another voice. It sounded a lot like the linebacker.
"Let's head back to the party," said the first voice.
There was a grumble from the presumptive linebacker. "Fine," he said. The whole bush shook after he kicked it hard, only about two feet to Cassie's left. Small sticks and leaves rained down around her. The linebacker stomped off.
Cassie continued to hold her breath for another few seconds, then let it out in a sigh. Dean gave her a sheepish grin. She butted him in the shoulder with her own. He reached up and pulled a stick from her hair and tossed it away. Their eyes met. In the dark, Cassie couldn't see the color of his eyes, but she didn't really need to. She'd been noticing them all night: their color, the way they shone with humor, belying his smirks and undercutting the sleazy one liners. The way his eyes had hardly strayed from her all night. Oh, yes. She didn't need light to remember their brilliance.
The gaze went on for another long, uncomfortable moment, not breaking, not even shifting. Cassie felt her pulse quicken. Before she could think twice, she leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were softer than she expected. He returned the kiss before she could begin to doubt herself, and the kiss was warm and inviting, not at all the artless, careless kiss of the player she'd originally taken him for. She leaned forward a little more, deepening the kiss, tasting the beer on his breath, feeling the warmth of it against her own chilled lips, breathing in the smell of his skin.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled them both to their feet, picking her up so effortlessly that she felt like she might float away. His touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, and he was strong, so very strong. The thought sent a pleasant little shiver coursing through her.
Time evaporated. Somewhere in the branches of the tree above them, an owl hooted. She was unsure how long they stayed locked in that embrace, how long it was before she broke away, if only to catch her breath. And when she did, she found she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Dean stared back at her, his eyes wide and startled, his face mirroring back to her her own surprise. He tightened his arm around her, holding her so close she could feel his heart beating. Cassie relaxed against him, relieved of some burden she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying. She felt giddy. Euphoria bubbled up through her veins like her blood had become champagne.
"I live only a few blocks from here," she said, and the words had spun off into the darkness before she'd even realized she was going to say them.
He froze, and then his answering grin lit up the night. He spun her around in a quick circle, and she threw back her head and laughed.
It was a good night.
* * *
TBC.