More Dean!fic.
Before you read this, make sure you read:
A is for Amuck
B is for Bric-A-Brac
C is for Crow
Title: I'm Halfway Home, And I'm On My Own
Author: Lizi (start_screaming)
Disclaimer: I own Rhys and Chloe. It'd be cool if I owned Sam and Dean though. But alas, I don't.
Fandom: Supernatural
Words: 1,162
Medium: TV Show
Genre: Relationship
Pairing: Dean/OFC
Characters: Dean, Chloe
Theme: D is for Diatribe. (diatribe: a bitter, sharply abusive denunciation, attack, or criticism)
Rating: PG13 for language
Warnings: None yet, at least I don't think.
Author's Notes: Part 4/26.
&
Dean & Chloe
I had a big mouth. I knew I did, but it was really hard to control what came out of it. Especially around Chloe. It wasn't my fault she turned me into a bumbling idiot, and I had no idea what I wanted to say when I was around her! Dude, it was ridiculous. I was normally…well, okay with words, at least. But when Chloe looked at me I went all verklempt. I felt like Sammy. I walked up to the door of the new hotel room, and I heard some crappy adult contemporary music or whatever category Jason Mraz (or whoever it was this time) fell into, emanating from the room, and I knew that Chloe was on one of her random music sprees. It sickened me that I even knew who that was, but…alas, I did.
I got closer to the door and heard her singing along, then peered through the window to see her standing in front of the mirror with her hairbrush in her hand. I grinned a little. Okay, so the music was tolerable. But that didn't mean I loved it like she did. I watched her sing--she'd always had a pretty decent voice. But it wasn't her voice that was grabbing my attention right then. It was her attire…her look. Just…her. Her hair, that look on her face as she grinned into the mirror, though her lips moved along with the words of 'Halfway Home,' just her. How did I even know the name of that song, anyway? It wasn't like I paid attention when she listened to that crap.
But…maybe I did. And I was sure as hell paying attention to her right then. Her hair looked like sun rays flowing off her head. I was enthralled. I snapped myself back to reality. This was Chloe. And Jason Mraz. I didn't like Jason Mraz's music, and I liked Chloe as a friend. Nothing more. Except for maybe an easy lay when we were both lonely. No. I couldn’t reduce her to that, because she was a good person. A good woman with a good heart. She'd make some man really happy someday. And even if I did like her like that? She deserved better than me.
I went to open the door, but stopped myself when I realized that I was singing along. Shit. I'm glad I'd realized that before I opened the door. I looked at her and laughed, though I forced it to be sarcastic and condescending. "Shut that shit off, Chloe!" I told her as I kicked my shoes off.
Her head turned and she glared at me, running a hand through her hair and putting the brush on the table before her. "Fuck you, asshole. I'm not like Sam and Rhys. You can't tell me what music to play and when to play it…" she put her hand on her hip and practically spat at me.
Well, that wasn't the reaction I'd anticipated. But I certainly wasn't going to let her win. Especially not after she took that tone with me. "We listen to your shit all the time though! I think it's my turn!" I stood my ground, though that look on her face was almost enough to make me pop a boner in the middle of the hotel room. I suspected this would end that way, too. With me popping one and possibly Chloe and I fucking. No different than our usual argument. That was why we were such good friends, though. We didn't stay mad. We fucked it out.
"I hate that!" she glared at me. "I hate how you think that just because you're the oldest, you can fucking run us all by the hair on our asses. You're only a couple months older than me, dickhead. Get over yourself!" she turned back around and started fixing her hair in the mirror. Where was she going?
I hated that even though she was cursing at me, I really wanted to do nothing more than back her into the bed and fuck her brains out. "Jesus Christ, Chloe…what the hell crawled up your ass?" I walked up to the stereo and shut it off. "You're being such a bitch!"
She whirled back around and put her hand on her hip again. "You're a fuck, Dean. I swear to God, you're so fucking clueless it makes me sick."
I raised an eyebrow. "I guess I am, because I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
At this point, Sam and Rhys had made their way to the door, coming back from whatever they'd been doing. But that didn't stop Chloe from her bitch-fest. Oh, no. That would make things too simple. "Of course you don't. Fuck you, Dean, okay?" she had tears in the corners of her eyes, and I was starting to wonder what the hell I'd done wrong. "You're really fucking clueless, aren't you? Just…fucking leave me alone," she put on a pair of shoes and slung her handbag over her shoulder, then rushed out the door. Where in the hell was she going? It was Thursday. We were supposed to go to the bar and…I watched her head toward the bar we'd picked out.
Sam looked at me as though I'd shot a puppy. "What in the hell was that?" he pointed over his shoulder at Chloe. "What'd you do?"
My eyes widened and I glared at the accusing looks that Sam and Rhys were giving me. "Why is it, every time Chloe cries or bumps her head, or…what the fuck ever…it's all my fucking fault?" I growled. It really pissed me off, actually. Chloe couldn't hiccup without me being to blame for taking the air from her. It was pretty ridiculous.
Sam crossed his arms and looked down at me. Damn him for being so much taller than me. "Because it usually is," he spoke simply.
Rhys spoke up, and my head slumped. The Tweedle-Dum to Sam's Tweedle-Dee. "Dean…I know you don't know what you did…or if you did anything…neither do we," she elbowed Sam in the ribs lightly. "But, I mean, Chloe's always there for you, right? When something makes you upset?" she straightened her hair.
I nodded. But I always made it abundantly obvious what was upsetting me. Before I could say that, though, Rhys started speaking again. "You should go apologize…see if you can find out what's bothering her, Dean. She'd do it for you, you know?"
I sighed and nodded again, then looked a little closer at Sam and Rhys. They were dripping wet. It had turned into a veritable downpour from the moment I'd come through the door. Meaning…Chloe was walking to the bar in a downpour? And she'd known that when she left? I had to go find her. If, that is, she was still going to the bar we'd chosen. "I'll…be back…" I spoke simply as I grabbed my keys from the table in front of me.
A is for Amuck
B is for Bric-A-Brac
C is for Crow
Title: I'm Halfway Home, And I'm On My Own
Author: Lizi (start_screaming)
Disclaimer: I own Rhys and Chloe. It'd be cool if I owned Sam and Dean though. But alas, I don't.
Fandom: Supernatural
Words: 1,162
Medium: TV Show
Genre: Relationship
Pairing: Dean/OFC
Characters: Dean, Chloe
Theme: D is for Diatribe. (diatribe: a bitter, sharply abusive denunciation, attack, or criticism)
Rating: PG13 for language
Warnings: None yet, at least I don't think.
Author's Notes: Part 4/26.
&
Dean & Chloe
I had a big mouth. I knew I did, but it was really hard to control what came out of it. Especially around Chloe. It wasn't my fault she turned me into a bumbling idiot, and I had no idea what I wanted to say when I was around her! Dude, it was ridiculous. I was normally…well, okay with words, at least. But when Chloe looked at me I went all verklempt. I felt like Sammy. I walked up to the door of the new hotel room, and I heard some crappy adult contemporary music or whatever category Jason Mraz (or whoever it was this time) fell into, emanating from the room, and I knew that Chloe was on one of her random music sprees. It sickened me that I even knew who that was, but…alas, I did.
I got closer to the door and heard her singing along, then peered through the window to see her standing in front of the mirror with her hairbrush in her hand. I grinned a little. Okay, so the music was tolerable. But that didn't mean I loved it like she did. I watched her sing--she'd always had a pretty decent voice. But it wasn't her voice that was grabbing my attention right then. It was her attire…her look. Just…her. Her hair, that look on her face as she grinned into the mirror, though her lips moved along with the words of 'Halfway Home,' just her. How did I even know the name of that song, anyway? It wasn't like I paid attention when she listened to that crap.
But…maybe I did. And I was sure as hell paying attention to her right then. Her hair looked like sun rays flowing off her head. I was enthralled. I snapped myself back to reality. This was Chloe. And Jason Mraz. I didn't like Jason Mraz's music, and I liked Chloe as a friend. Nothing more. Except for maybe an easy lay when we were both lonely. No. I couldn’t reduce her to that, because she was a good person. A good woman with a good heart. She'd make some man really happy someday. And even if I did like her like that? She deserved better than me.
I went to open the door, but stopped myself when I realized that I was singing along. Shit. I'm glad I'd realized that before I opened the door. I looked at her and laughed, though I forced it to be sarcastic and condescending. "Shut that shit off, Chloe!" I told her as I kicked my shoes off.
Her head turned and she glared at me, running a hand through her hair and putting the brush on the table before her. "Fuck you, asshole. I'm not like Sam and Rhys. You can't tell me what music to play and when to play it…" she put her hand on her hip and practically spat at me.
Well, that wasn't the reaction I'd anticipated. But I certainly wasn't going to let her win. Especially not after she took that tone with me. "We listen to your shit all the time though! I think it's my turn!" I stood my ground, though that look on her face was almost enough to make me pop a boner in the middle of the hotel room. I suspected this would end that way, too. With me popping one and possibly Chloe and I fucking. No different than our usual argument. That was why we were such good friends, though. We didn't stay mad. We fucked it out.
"I hate that!" she glared at me. "I hate how you think that just because you're the oldest, you can fucking run us all by the hair on our asses. You're only a couple months older than me, dickhead. Get over yourself!" she turned back around and started fixing her hair in the mirror. Where was she going?
I hated that even though she was cursing at me, I really wanted to do nothing more than back her into the bed and fuck her brains out. "Jesus Christ, Chloe…what the hell crawled up your ass?" I walked up to the stereo and shut it off. "You're being such a bitch!"
She whirled back around and put her hand on her hip again. "You're a fuck, Dean. I swear to God, you're so fucking clueless it makes me sick."
I raised an eyebrow. "I guess I am, because I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
At this point, Sam and Rhys had made their way to the door, coming back from whatever they'd been doing. But that didn't stop Chloe from her bitch-fest. Oh, no. That would make things too simple. "Of course you don't. Fuck you, Dean, okay?" she had tears in the corners of her eyes, and I was starting to wonder what the hell I'd done wrong. "You're really fucking clueless, aren't you? Just…fucking leave me alone," she put on a pair of shoes and slung her handbag over her shoulder, then rushed out the door. Where in the hell was she going? It was Thursday. We were supposed to go to the bar and…I watched her head toward the bar we'd picked out.
Sam looked at me as though I'd shot a puppy. "What in the hell was that?" he pointed over his shoulder at Chloe. "What'd you do?"
My eyes widened and I glared at the accusing looks that Sam and Rhys were giving me. "Why is it, every time Chloe cries or bumps her head, or…what the fuck ever…it's all my fucking fault?" I growled. It really pissed me off, actually. Chloe couldn't hiccup without me being to blame for taking the air from her. It was pretty ridiculous.
Sam crossed his arms and looked down at me. Damn him for being so much taller than me. "Because it usually is," he spoke simply.
Rhys spoke up, and my head slumped. The Tweedle-Dum to Sam's Tweedle-Dee. "Dean…I know you don't know what you did…or if you did anything…neither do we," she elbowed Sam in the ribs lightly. "But, I mean, Chloe's always there for you, right? When something makes you upset?" she straightened her hair.
I nodded. But I always made it abundantly obvious what was upsetting me. Before I could say that, though, Rhys started speaking again. "You should go apologize…see if you can find out what's bothering her, Dean. She'd do it for you, you know?"
I sighed and nodded again, then looked a little closer at Sam and Rhys. They were dripping wet. It had turned into a veritable downpour from the moment I'd come through the door. Meaning…Chloe was walking to the bar in a downpour? And she'd known that when she left? I had to go find her. If, that is, she was still going to the bar we'd chosen. "I'll…be back…" I spoke simply as I grabbed my keys from the table in front of me.