before the storm arrives in the basement
[after this happens]
Dean: I punched Sam for you.
Elle: [curls up with him] Good.
Dean: [snuggles] He's a goddamn idiot.
Elle: [breathes] You're sure this is gonna be okay?
Dean: I'll cut his friggen' head off before I let him hurt you. So, yeah.
Elle: [nods, but curls in closer] Alright.
Dean: [presses a kiss to her hair]
Elle: [if she wasn't so anxiety ridden, she'd probably be up for distracting them both from this, but she just needs to have him right there]
Dean: [he's here. he's not going anywhere. he'll keep her safe]
Elle: [she's really grateful for that]
Dean: [kisses the top of her head again]
Elle: [shuts her eyes and leans into that a bit]
Dean: We'll work this out. We'll be okay.
Elle: [nods] I'm sorry.
Dean: ... for what?
Elle: [shrugs, because she knows this is her fault, that if she had stayed with anyone after Dean died, instead of going to Primatech that she never would've had to deal with this]
Dean: [makes a face at her] It's not your fault this guy's a friggen' nutcase.
Elle: It's because of me that he's even a problem.
Dean: No it's not.
Elle: [shrugs] He's looking for me, Dean. Not someone else.
Dean: You think he wouldn't come after you anyway? I mean ... [makes zappy motions] He gets his rocks off on that sorta thing. That don't make it your fault.
Elle: [worries on her bottom lip, shrugging] I don't know.
Dean: Trust me. It's not.
Elle: [takes a deep breath, nodding]
Dean: [combs his fingers through her hair]
Elle: [hums, naturally and literally, since that is pretty calming]
Dean: [keeps at it, then, since it seems to be helping]
Elle: [exhales, settling in]
Dean: [pulls her a little closer]
Elle: [is pulled and doesn't move much from his side, just clinging a bit]
Dean: [clings back a little, slipping his hand out of her hair and down over her arm, reassuringly]
Elle: [uses her free hand to rest over the hand that's trying to reassure]
Dean: [spreads his fingers a bit, letting hers fall between his]
Elle: [takes hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze] Thanks.
Dean: [squeezes back] No problem, sweetheart.
Elle: [shifts a bit, sitting up straighter, leaning over to kiss his cheek, it's chaste, but she's exhausted from all the worry]
Dean: [turns his head to return the kiss softly]
Elle: [shuts her eyes and rests her forehead to his lightly]
Dean: [mirrors her, closing his eyes with a sigh]
Elle: [just relaxes a bit]
Dean: [is glad she's relaxing some, at least]
Elle: [shifts a bit, moving to stand up, but she's just moving to climb into bed, because she just wants to sleep, even though she knows she won't be able to]
Dean: [gets up, too, moving to join her. probably won't sleep either -- too much crap to think about -- but he can hold her]
Elle: [she'll appreciate that, she'll turn in toward him too, curling up with him]
Dean: [wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest]
Elle: [another soft hum, plus a soft smirk, because he always smells good, even if it's laced with alcohol on occasion]
Dean: [is sober now, at least? though, that's honestly a small miracle. brushes his fingers up and down her back, offering her a small smile in return]
Elle: [well, she never really minds either way, but he still smells good, which in itself was calming]
Dean: [rests his forehead against hers again, closing his eyes. would tell her he loves her, but that's generally reserved for immediate Wow, we're fucked situations. this is just impending fuckery]
Elle: [isn't really the type to need words to know he cares, he's already promised to keep her safe, that's good]
Dean: [tilts his head up to brush his lips over her forehead]
Elle: [sighs content] I'm not gonna be able to sleep.
Dean: Yeah, me neither. We should start a club.
Elle: [hums] Are there shirts?
Dean: Totally.
Elle: Are you the President?
Dean: Uh ... yeah, I guess?
Elle: [smirks, pulling back to meet his eyes] Is there a lair?
Dean: [corrects her] Batcave. And yeah.
Elle: [grins] With a red phone for emergencies?
Dean: Yep. And, like, a fireman pole and all that crap.
Elle: [lifts an eyebrow] That fireman pole would be for...?
Dean: Getting in there from the hotel? You know, like Adam West used to do. [except less gay]
Elle: Okay. I thought there might be mirrors on the floor or something.
Dean: [shrugs] Well, there could be, like, a button for mirrors. So, you know, if you felt like pole dancin' ....
Elle: A button? Next to the emergency phones?
Dean: Yep.
Elle: [amused grin] With a revolving wall that has a row of stripper heels and bikinis?
Dean: Hell yes.
Dean: [might just smirk a little]
Elle: [thinks some more] With a smoke machine that comes out of the ceiling.
Dean: And a dimmer switch for the lights. 'Cause, you know, you gotta have that whole strip joint atmosphere goin'.
Elle: And an ATM that gives out singles. [leans in and kisses him]
Dean: [doesn't answer to that one, even if he totally agrees -- just kisses her back softly]
Elle: [well, the singles would go to HER, since she's the one that would be using the pole and such -- but she prefers to not argue and kiss instead]
Dean: [yeah, they would. but kissing is totally better than just thinking about it]
Elle: [plus, she's worn out so the thinking tends to get slightly silly, so the kissing is amazing right now]
Dean: [moves a hand up into her hair, sighing]
Elle: [leans into that touch a bit, humming into his sigh]
Dean: [spiders his fingers in and out of her hair lazily]
Elle: [pulls back a bit, stealing a soft kiss for a moment]
Dean: [steals a quick one back]
Elle: [is amused, kissing the tip of his nose]
Dean: [wrinkles his nose] Hey.
Elle: [smiles warmly] I have poor aim.
Dean: We might have to work on that. [offers her a crooked smile]
Elle: Oh? [her aim is perfect, but she's just being silly]
Dean: Yep.
Elle: [smirks, kisses the corner of his mouth] I think I'm doing pretty good.
Dean: Gettin' warmer. [steals a kiss from her]
Elle: [faux shock, but doesn't mind, at all, the stolen kiss] Hmmm...
Dean: Mm?
Elle: I'm trying to figure out my aim.
Dean: Oh. [a beat] Y'know, that sounds kinda dirty.
Elle: [smirks] It could be.
Dean: [smirks back]
Elle: [reaches her hand to the back of his neck, splaying her fingers a bit, before tugging him closer to her]
Dean: [shifts at the tugging, curling close against her]
Elle: [meets his eyes briefly before kissing him properly]
Dean: [kisses her back, tenderly]
Elle: [murmurs a hum softly against the kiss, slinking in closer to him, tangling her legs in against his]
Dean: [moves his hand to her hip, fingers curling there to hold her against him]
Elle: [shifts her hip slightly into his contact, nuzzling in close, kissing him again] My aim better?
Dean: Much. [kisses her back]
Elle: Good. [returns the kiss with a soft smile]
Dean: [would say generally, but he's distracted by the kissing again]
Elle: [she's fond of the kissing, because if she's not gonna sleep, and she's gonna get worked up about something -- it might as well be something fun]
Dean: [works for him. slides his hand up from her hip and under her shirt, fingers resting lightly against her side]
Elle: [slips her leg up a bit higher between his legs, inching up closer to him, so that she's more level to his eyes, pulling back to look at him, that look of need in her features, because she does need him, probably more than she admits to, moving to ghost her mouth over his softly, not quite a kiss, but that soft contact that lingers. she just doesn't want this to be anything else than that comforting contact, because right now she needs that more than she needs reassurance that he's not going to leave her alone with Sylar, when he's there.]
Dean: I punched Sam for you.
Elle: [curls up with him] Good.
Dean: [snuggles] He's a goddamn idiot.
Elle: [breathes] You're sure this is gonna be okay?
Dean: I'll cut his friggen' head off before I let him hurt you. So, yeah.
Elle: [nods, but curls in closer] Alright.
Dean: [presses a kiss to her hair]
Elle: [if she wasn't so anxiety ridden, she'd probably be up for distracting them both from this, but she just needs to have him right there]
Dean: [he's here. he's not going anywhere. he'll keep her safe]
Elle: [she's really grateful for that]
Dean: [kisses the top of her head again]
Elle: [shuts her eyes and leans into that a bit]
Dean: We'll work this out. We'll be okay.
Elle: [nods] I'm sorry.
Dean: ... for what?
Elle: [shrugs, because she knows this is her fault, that if she had stayed with anyone after Dean died, instead of going to Primatech that she never would've had to deal with this]
Dean: [makes a face at her] It's not your fault this guy's a friggen' nutcase.
Elle: It's because of me that he's even a problem.
Dean: No it's not.
Elle: [shrugs] He's looking for me, Dean. Not someone else.
Dean: You think he wouldn't come after you anyway? I mean ... [makes zappy motions] He gets his rocks off on that sorta thing. That don't make it your fault.
Elle: [worries on her bottom lip, shrugging] I don't know.
Dean: Trust me. It's not.
Elle: [takes a deep breath, nodding]
Dean: [combs his fingers through her hair]
Elle: [hums, naturally and literally, since that is pretty calming]
Dean: [keeps at it, then, since it seems to be helping]
Elle: [exhales, settling in]
Dean: [pulls her a little closer]
Elle: [is pulled and doesn't move much from his side, just clinging a bit]
Dean: [clings back a little, slipping his hand out of her hair and down over her arm, reassuringly]
Elle: [uses her free hand to rest over the hand that's trying to reassure]
Dean: [spreads his fingers a bit, letting hers fall between his]
Elle: [takes hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze] Thanks.
Dean: [squeezes back] No problem, sweetheart.
Elle: [shifts a bit, sitting up straighter, leaning over to kiss his cheek, it's chaste, but she's exhausted from all the worry]
Dean: [turns his head to return the kiss softly]
Elle: [shuts her eyes and rests her forehead to his lightly]
Dean: [mirrors her, closing his eyes with a sigh]
Elle: [just relaxes a bit]
Dean: [is glad she's relaxing some, at least]
Elle: [shifts a bit, moving to stand up, but she's just moving to climb into bed, because she just wants to sleep, even though she knows she won't be able to]
Dean: [gets up, too, moving to join her. probably won't sleep either -- too much crap to think about -- but he can hold her]
Elle: [she'll appreciate that, she'll turn in toward him too, curling up with him]
Dean: [wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest]
Elle: [another soft hum, plus a soft smirk, because he always smells good, even if it's laced with alcohol on occasion]
Dean: [is sober now, at least? though, that's honestly a small miracle. brushes his fingers up and down her back, offering her a small smile in return]
Elle: [well, she never really minds either way, but he still smells good, which in itself was calming]
Dean: [rests his forehead against hers again, closing his eyes. would tell her he loves her, but that's generally reserved for immediate Wow, we're fucked situations. this is just impending fuckery]
Elle: [isn't really the type to need words to know he cares, he's already promised to keep her safe, that's good]
Dean: [tilts his head up to brush his lips over her forehead]
Elle: [sighs content] I'm not gonna be able to sleep.
Dean: Yeah, me neither. We should start a club.
Elle: [hums] Are there shirts?
Dean: Totally.
Elle: Are you the President?
Dean: Uh ... yeah, I guess?
Elle: [smirks, pulling back to meet his eyes] Is there a lair?
Dean: [corrects her] Batcave. And yeah.
Elle: [grins] With a red phone for emergencies?
Dean: Yep. And, like, a fireman pole and all that crap.
Elle: [lifts an eyebrow] That fireman pole would be for...?
Dean: Getting in there from the hotel? You know, like Adam West used to do. [except less gay]
Elle: Okay. I thought there might be mirrors on the floor or something.
Dean: [shrugs] Well, there could be, like, a button for mirrors. So, you know, if you felt like pole dancin' ....
Elle: A button? Next to the emergency phones?
Dean: Yep.
Elle: [amused grin] With a revolving wall that has a row of stripper heels and bikinis?
Dean: Hell yes.
Dean: [might just smirk a little]
Elle: [thinks some more] With a smoke machine that comes out of the ceiling.
Dean: And a dimmer switch for the lights. 'Cause, you know, you gotta have that whole strip joint atmosphere goin'.
Elle: And an ATM that gives out singles. [leans in and kisses him]
Dean: [doesn't answer to that one, even if he totally agrees -- just kisses her back softly]
Elle: [well, the singles would go to HER, since she's the one that would be using the pole and such -- but she prefers to not argue and kiss instead]
Dean: [yeah, they would. but kissing is totally better than just thinking about it]
Elle: [plus, she's worn out so the thinking tends to get slightly silly, so the kissing is amazing right now]
Dean: [moves a hand up into her hair, sighing]
Elle: [leans into that touch a bit, humming into his sigh]
Dean: [spiders his fingers in and out of her hair lazily]
Elle: [pulls back a bit, stealing a soft kiss for a moment]
Dean: [steals a quick one back]
Elle: [is amused, kissing the tip of his nose]
Dean: [wrinkles his nose] Hey.
Elle: [smiles warmly] I have poor aim.
Dean: We might have to work on that. [offers her a crooked smile]
Elle: Oh? [her aim is perfect, but she's just being silly]
Dean: Yep.
Elle: [smirks, kisses the corner of his mouth] I think I'm doing pretty good.
Dean: Gettin' warmer. [steals a kiss from her]
Elle: [faux shock, but doesn't mind, at all, the stolen kiss] Hmmm...
Dean: Mm?
Elle: I'm trying to figure out my aim.
Dean: Oh. [a beat] Y'know, that sounds kinda dirty.
Elle: [smirks] It could be.
Dean: [smirks back]
Elle: [reaches her hand to the back of his neck, splaying her fingers a bit, before tugging him closer to her]
Dean: [shifts at the tugging, curling close against her]
Elle: [meets his eyes briefly before kissing him properly]
Dean: [kisses her back, tenderly]
Elle: [murmurs a hum softly against the kiss, slinking in closer to him, tangling her legs in against his]
Dean: [moves his hand to her hip, fingers curling there to hold her against him]
Elle: [shifts her hip slightly into his contact, nuzzling in close, kissing him again] My aim better?
Dean: Much. [kisses her back]
Elle: Good. [returns the kiss with a soft smile]
Dean: [would say generally, but he's distracted by the kissing again]
Elle: [she's fond of the kissing, because if she's not gonna sleep, and she's gonna get worked up about something -- it might as well be something fun]
Dean: [works for him. slides his hand up from her hip and under her shirt, fingers resting lightly against her side]
Elle: [slips her leg up a bit higher between his legs, inching up closer to him, so that she's more level to his eyes, pulling back to look at him, that look of need in her features, because she does need him, probably more than she admits to, moving to ghost her mouth over his softly, not quite a kiss, but that soft contact that lingers. she just doesn't want this to be anything else than that comforting contact, because right now she needs that more than she needs reassurance that he's not going to leave her alone with Sylar, when he's there.]