Dark Blue Fic: Hold Me Fast [Jaimie/Dean]
Author: 
siricerasi
Fandom: Dark Blue
Characters/pairings: Jaimie/Dean
Rating: T
Word count: 1646
Warnings: None o.O How'd that happen?
Spoilers: Through s1
Summary: "Moving forward; it’s the only way they can survive this."
Author's Notes: Written for my hc_bingo prompt "abandonment issues"
Title etc. from Mumford & Sons' "Hopeless Wanderer"
I think they're trying to indict [Carter].
Homicide?
Looks that way. So we're gonna need to get creative.
How "creative"?
Does it matter?
Yeah. it does. Is Ty on board with all this creativity?
Who cares, Jaimie? As long as you and I are on the same page - majority rules, right?
I don't know. Scott got a job offer in San Francisco, and he wants me to go with him.
I don't want to jeopardize that. We have to think about ourselves, not Carter.
It's just that easy for you, huh - selling out?
I'm not gonna hang myself for his lies... or yours.
Come on. You know what's funny, though? The two people you're calling liars
are the two people who know who you really are. And still like you for it.
She opens the door a few seconds after he’d closed it, calls, “Dean.” He stops, turns around slowly, just watching her. Waiting. She knows if she wants to fix this, any of it… well, he’s made his move. Just like Carter. It’s her turn.
“What kind of creativity?” she asks, and the little grin the tugs at the corners of his mouth is worth all of it.
She grabs a few beers, hands him one with a hesitant, “I’m sorry. For…” He takes a few gulps, eyes glittering in the half-dark. “It’s just… this whole situation, it’s…” She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”
He sighs, settling on the couch. “I know,” he murmurs. She perches on the edge of the couch as he rubs a hand tiredly across his face. “Carter isn’t making it any easier.”
She snorts softly. “When does he ever?” Dean gives a hollow smirk and she feels her stomach twist uncomfortably; now that she’s not so defensive, she can see how on edge he is. He had been during this whole thing, more than he should’ve been.
“I’m just trying to help him,” he states, almost to himself. She touches his hand gently.
“I know,” she murmurs. Wonders what the hell Carter had said to him.
They sit in silence for a few minutes as she just watches him, takes in his slumped posture, pale face. She’d never realized just how much their boss meant to him, which she supposes was the point. Especially after his “daddy issues” comment to her. But she realizes that Carter’s approval means as much to Dean as it does to her, maybe more.
“I don’t have anything else,” he states suddenly into the silence, twisting the bottle in his hands. “If the team breaks up, Ty has Mel, you have S-Scott and I…” He licks his lips, swallowing, as her stomach wrenches at Scott’s stuttered name. “I don’t have anything else, Jaimie,” he whispers to the floor.
Her heart breaks.
She slides onto the couch beside him, murmuring, “Come here, Dean.” She half-expects him to pull away, walk out the door, but when he lets her slip an arm around his shoulders she knows he’s really fucking terrified.
She pulls his head to her shoulder gently, wrapping both arms around him. “We’ll figure something out, okay?” His breathe hitches, just the tiniest bit, and every bit of resolve she’d had to leave with Scott, to run to San Francisco, flies out the window. “Hey, I promise,” she reassures him gently, rubbing his back with a hand that shakes. “I promise, Dean.” He’s silent, trembling against her, and she finds her arms tightening all on their own.
“Look, I know we’ve both said and done a lot of shit,” she tells him softly, feels him smile a little. “But… Dean, this is bigger than that, alright? I know what it’s like. I know how it feels to have nothing, no one left.”
He whimpers.
She cups his head instinctively, whispering, “Shh, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you alone with that, I promise. I promise.” God, she’d been so blind. So focused on her own problems, she’d totally missed Dean’s. She’d forgotten how much like her he was, leaving his family, taking up this life with no one to support him.
“But… Scott…”
She cuts him off. “Scott is… was…” She swallows hard, not sure what to say. Because she does love him; she’s just afraid he could never love her, not the real her. And she’s not sure that she can pretend her whole life. “I was scared,” she says quietly. “I was scared that Carter’d go away, and Scott would leave for San Francisco, and without the team you’d…” She bites her lip. “You wouldn’t have a reason to see me again,” she mumbles. “And I couldn’t be that alone again, I couldn’t…” She shudders, and Dean pulls back too look at her with kind eyes she so rarely sees.
“I’d never do that to you,” he tells her quietly. “You really thought…?” She feels tears burn her eyes and closes them, desperately. And then feels his lips on hers, gentle and salty, with whose tears she doesn’t know. And then it’s his arms around her, cradling her to his chest as he breathes, “I’ll never leave you alone, Jaimie. Not like that, not ever, not after everything you’ve been though.” He kisses her cheek, holds her for a few minutes as they both try to process everything.
“I think we need to work on communication,” he murmurs into her ear. She laughs. If it sounds a little hysterical, they both ignore that.
She feels a tension draining out of her she hadn’t realized was there, a knot in her stomach that loosens almost painfully. “Okay,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Okay, okay. We’re gonna be okay.” He runs his fingers gently along her spine, resting his chin on her head.
“I’m gonna go take care of it,” he states quietly. “I don’t care what Carter says, I’m not letting this team fall apart.” She nods, places a hand on his chest to steady herself. She can feel hard muscles there, trembling a little, more reassuring than Scott could ever be.
She’d been fooling herself, thinking she could ever live a normal life.
***
Her world is crumbling. Crashing, splintering, exploding.
Scott is gone. And with him, all her hopes of ever having a normal life.
By the time Dean shows back up she’d convinced herself that he was never planning to help her, that she’s completely on her own. The knock on her door jolts her out of a panicky despair, a curled ball on the couch. She tries to cover her emotions when she opens to door, to wipe them from her face, from existence, but one look at her and Dean’s whole body softens.
“Jaimie,” he murmurs, reaching for her. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let Scott do that to her, she wouldn’t let Dean see this… this pathetic mess she’d become. But the moment he touches her, the moment she sees such compassion in his eyes - she can’t pull away. The only thing she wants is his arms around her, safe and warm and here.
She finds herself sobbing desperately into his shoulder as he just runs a hand along her back, whispering words to her she can’t force her mind to understand. It’s only her body and his and a stream of emotions so devastatingly strong they threaten to burn her to the ground. Only Dean’s voice penetrates, incomprehensible but steady, soothingly methodic. And the words gradually take shape, and he’s breathing, “I’m here,” in her ear again and again and again.
She comes to slowly, like through a fog, brain scattered. Finds herself back on the couch but this time huddled on Dean’s lap, his arms still tight around her. As she forces air into her lungs, a hoarse gasp, his fingers tighten where they rest in her hair, scratch her scalp gently.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “I’m here, I’ve got you, just breathe.”
For a long time, it’s the only thing she can do.
***
Morning light wakes her, warm and cozy under a pile of blankets, Dean’s body curled around her. It’s his bed; she vaguely remembers refusing to stay at her apartment - Jaimie Allen’s apartment.
She’s not Jaimie Allen. She’s not sure she ever was, not sure she ever really wanted to be. She’s definitely sure she doesn’t want to be anymore.
Dean stirs as she shifts, kisses her neck sleepily. “Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His arms tighten, pulling her closer, enveloping her in his scent, his warmth.
She never wants to move again. Wants to forget that the rest of her life exists, and just be here.
She makes a vaguely answering noise, unable to find words. “You want some breakfast?” he asks. Like nothing had changed, like her entire world hadn’t just come crashing down. And maybe his too. She buries her face into the pillow and shakes her head.
He tugs her up gently, resettles her head against his shoulder with a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got some time,” he says softly. “We can just stay here for awhile, okay? But then we’re getting out of bed and I’m making you breakfast and we’re getting our lives back together. Understand?”
She nods, because it’s the only thing she can think to do.
Moving forward; it’s the only way they can survive this.
***
She hires movers, because she can’t bring herself to set foot in that apartment again.
When she’d told Dean she’d rent a hotel room, until she found a new place, he’d given her this look of combined disbelief and hurt and concern that cut right through her chest, settled onto her lungs like an anvil.
“Like hell,” he’d stated. And she’d said nothing, because she couldn’t breathe.
That night he holds her so tightly she thinks he never means to let go.
She doesn’t think she ever wants him to.
So when your hope's on fire
But you know your desire
Don't hold a glass over the flame
Don't let your heart grow cold
I will call you by name
I will share your road
siricerasi
Fandom: Dark Blue
Characters/pairings: Jaimie/Dean
Rating: T
Word count: 1646
Warnings: None o.O How'd that happen?
Spoilers: Through s1
Summary: "Moving forward; it’s the only way they can survive this."
Author's Notes: Written for my hc_bingo prompt "abandonment issues"
Title etc. from Mumford & Sons' "Hopeless Wanderer"
I think they're trying to indict [Carter].
Homicide?
Looks that way. So we're gonna need to get creative.
How "creative"?
Does it matter?
Yeah. it does. Is Ty on board with all this creativity?
Who cares, Jaimie? As long as you and I are on the same page - majority rules, right?
I don't know. Scott got a job offer in San Francisco, and he wants me to go with him.
I don't want to jeopardize that. We have to think about ourselves, not Carter.
It's just that easy for you, huh - selling out?
I'm not gonna hang myself for his lies... or yours.
Come on. You know what's funny, though? The two people you're calling liars
are the two people who know who you really are. And still like you for it.
She opens the door a few seconds after he’d closed it, calls, “Dean.” He stops, turns around slowly, just watching her. Waiting. She knows if she wants to fix this, any of it… well, he’s made his move. Just like Carter. It’s her turn.
“What kind of creativity?” she asks, and the little grin the tugs at the corners of his mouth is worth all of it.
She grabs a few beers, hands him one with a hesitant, “I’m sorry. For…” He takes a few gulps, eyes glittering in the half-dark. “It’s just… this whole situation, it’s…” She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”
He sighs, settling on the couch. “I know,” he murmurs. She perches on the edge of the couch as he rubs a hand tiredly across his face. “Carter isn’t making it any easier.”
She snorts softly. “When does he ever?” Dean gives a hollow smirk and she feels her stomach twist uncomfortably; now that she’s not so defensive, she can see how on edge he is. He had been during this whole thing, more than he should’ve been.
“I’m just trying to help him,” he states, almost to himself. She touches his hand gently.
“I know,” she murmurs. Wonders what the hell Carter had said to him.
They sit in silence for a few minutes as she just watches him, takes in his slumped posture, pale face. She’d never realized just how much their boss meant to him, which she supposes was the point. Especially after his “daddy issues” comment to her. But she realizes that Carter’s approval means as much to Dean as it does to her, maybe more.
“I don’t have anything else,” he states suddenly into the silence, twisting the bottle in his hands. “If the team breaks up, Ty has Mel, you have S-Scott and I…” He licks his lips, swallowing, as her stomach wrenches at Scott’s stuttered name. “I don’t have anything else, Jaimie,” he whispers to the floor.
Her heart breaks.
She slides onto the couch beside him, murmuring, “Come here, Dean.” She half-expects him to pull away, walk out the door, but when he lets her slip an arm around his shoulders she knows he’s really fucking terrified.
She pulls his head to her shoulder gently, wrapping both arms around him. “We’ll figure something out, okay?” His breathe hitches, just the tiniest bit, and every bit of resolve she’d had to leave with Scott, to run to San Francisco, flies out the window. “Hey, I promise,” she reassures him gently, rubbing his back with a hand that shakes. “I promise, Dean.” He’s silent, trembling against her, and she finds her arms tightening all on their own.
“Look, I know we’ve both said and done a lot of shit,” she tells him softly, feels him smile a little. “But… Dean, this is bigger than that, alright? I know what it’s like. I know how it feels to have nothing, no one left.”
He whimpers.
She cups his head instinctively, whispering, “Shh, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you alone with that, I promise. I promise.” God, she’d been so blind. So focused on her own problems, she’d totally missed Dean’s. She’d forgotten how much like her he was, leaving his family, taking up this life with no one to support him.
“But… Scott…”
She cuts him off. “Scott is… was…” She swallows hard, not sure what to say. Because she does love him; she’s just afraid he could never love her, not the real her. And she’s not sure that she can pretend her whole life. “I was scared,” she says quietly. “I was scared that Carter’d go away, and Scott would leave for San Francisco, and without the team you’d…” She bites her lip. “You wouldn’t have a reason to see me again,” she mumbles. “And I couldn’t be that alone again, I couldn’t…” She shudders, and Dean pulls back too look at her with kind eyes she so rarely sees.
“I’d never do that to you,” he tells her quietly. “You really thought…?” She feels tears burn her eyes and closes them, desperately. And then feels his lips on hers, gentle and salty, with whose tears she doesn’t know. And then it’s his arms around her, cradling her to his chest as he breathes, “I’ll never leave you alone, Jaimie. Not like that, not ever, not after everything you’ve been though.” He kisses her cheek, holds her for a few minutes as they both try to process everything.
“I think we need to work on communication,” he murmurs into her ear. She laughs. If it sounds a little hysterical, they both ignore that.
She feels a tension draining out of her she hadn’t realized was there, a knot in her stomach that loosens almost painfully. “Okay,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Okay, okay. We’re gonna be okay.” He runs his fingers gently along her spine, resting his chin on her head.
“I’m gonna go take care of it,” he states quietly. “I don’t care what Carter says, I’m not letting this team fall apart.” She nods, places a hand on his chest to steady herself. She can feel hard muscles there, trembling a little, more reassuring than Scott could ever be.
She’d been fooling herself, thinking she could ever live a normal life.
***
Her world is crumbling. Crashing, splintering, exploding.
Scott is gone. And with him, all her hopes of ever having a normal life.
By the time Dean shows back up she’d convinced herself that he was never planning to help her, that she’s completely on her own. The knock on her door jolts her out of a panicky despair, a curled ball on the couch. She tries to cover her emotions when she opens to door, to wipe them from her face, from existence, but one look at her and Dean’s whole body softens.
“Jaimie,” he murmurs, reaching for her. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let Scott do that to her, she wouldn’t let Dean see this… this pathetic mess she’d become. But the moment he touches her, the moment she sees such compassion in his eyes - she can’t pull away. The only thing she wants is his arms around her, safe and warm and here.
She finds herself sobbing desperately into his shoulder as he just runs a hand along her back, whispering words to her she can’t force her mind to understand. It’s only her body and his and a stream of emotions so devastatingly strong they threaten to burn her to the ground. Only Dean’s voice penetrates, incomprehensible but steady, soothingly methodic. And the words gradually take shape, and he’s breathing, “I’m here,” in her ear again and again and again.
She comes to slowly, like through a fog, brain scattered. Finds herself back on the couch but this time huddled on Dean’s lap, his arms still tight around her. As she forces air into her lungs, a hoarse gasp, his fingers tighten where they rest in her hair, scratch her scalp gently.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “I’m here, I’ve got you, just breathe.”
For a long time, it’s the only thing she can do.
***
Morning light wakes her, warm and cozy under a pile of blankets, Dean’s body curled around her. It’s his bed; she vaguely remembers refusing to stay at her apartment - Jaimie Allen’s apartment.
She’s not Jaimie Allen. She’s not sure she ever was, not sure she ever really wanted to be. She’s definitely sure she doesn’t want to be anymore.
Dean stirs as she shifts, kisses her neck sleepily. “Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His arms tighten, pulling her closer, enveloping her in his scent, his warmth.
She never wants to move again. Wants to forget that the rest of her life exists, and just be here.
She makes a vaguely answering noise, unable to find words. “You want some breakfast?” he asks. Like nothing had changed, like her entire world hadn’t just come crashing down. And maybe his too. She buries her face into the pillow and shakes her head.
He tugs her up gently, resettles her head against his shoulder with a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got some time,” he says softly. “We can just stay here for awhile, okay? But then we’re getting out of bed and I’m making you breakfast and we’re getting our lives back together. Understand?”
She nods, because it’s the only thing she can think to do.
Moving forward; it’s the only way they can survive this.
***
She hires movers, because she can’t bring herself to set foot in that apartment again.
When she’d told Dean she’d rent a hotel room, until she found a new place, he’d given her this look of combined disbelief and hurt and concern that cut right through her chest, settled onto her lungs like an anvil.
“Like hell,” he’d stated. And she’d said nothing, because she couldn’t breathe.
That night he holds her so tightly she thinks he never means to let go.
She doesn’t think she ever wants him to.
So when your hope's on fire
But you know your desire
Don't hold a glass over the flame
Don't let your heart grow cold
I will call you by name
I will share your road