I've Never Lost Someone Like You Before
(Dean = jstliketherifle, Sam = likely_evil. Set in withoutyou!verse.)
Suicide to think of you//But I still like the pain//The consequence of losing to you//But I still play the games ~Jackalope
Nine weeks. It had been nine weeks, just over two months, since he had left her. Deep down, she knew it hadn't been his choice. She knew he hadn't wanted to...die...but he did. And all she could feel, aside from the overwhelming numbness, was that he had left her. She hated him first. Before all the other feeling, right after Sam called to tell her what happened. She wanted to bring Dean back to life herself and shoot him in the heart, because it felt like that was exactly what he had done to her. Especially more so in the following week, when Sam let it slip about Dean's deal. The fact that Dean had known the last time he saw her was probably it. The last time. And he just let her kiss him goodbye and leave, expecting to see him again soon. For that, she wanted to force a blunt object through his heart. She hated him for weeks. Wouldn't go see Sam. She just lost herself in the job.
Almost immediately, she took a long job, followed by another. And another. That was the irony. Before Dean, she loved long jobs. They lasted, they kept her doing something for long stretches of time. But in the year with Dean, as they got closer, she started preferring the short jobs. The short jobs meant she'd have a chance to see him more often. She'd have chances to lay in his arms and feel his heat so close to her own. Their embarrassing, soft whispers and chuckles as they pressed to each other limb to limb, skin to skin, as close as they could get. More moments to get so pissed at him she'd want to shoot him, but then he'd smile and it would all just...fade away.
But then he left. And she couldn't face the short jobs. She couldn't have time with nothing to fill it. So she worked. She worked and she avoided Sam's calls in the beginning. They didn't come often, then they didn't come at all. She was worried, but she just couldn't speak to him.
And it had been just over two months. She was in Mexico, on a job, and a noise outside her hotel room woke her up. A car backfiring. She stepped over to the window and pushed the shade aside. Anything small to occupy her wandering mind. Her eyes dropped to the road and she stared at the car. Everything inside of her dropped. Every brick she had built to hold herself up in his absence were starting to crumble to her feet.
An Impala.
Not like his. Not as nice and well kept, but she'd spot that brand car anywhere. Suddenly, sensatory flashbacks slammed through her system. The scent of his skin, mixed with shampoo, open air, sweat....and everything him. His hands holding her hips tight, and his waist pressed against her own. His lips, slightly chapped always, but soft, pulling at hers. Drifting across her neck and jaw. The stubble on his cheeks, scratching her skin but in an incredibly delightful way. His whispered goodbye in her ear, that she hadn't known would be the last. The feeling buzzing between them of wanting each other so badly, once more before she left. Her clothes leaving her body, and the air chilling her naked skin as her body fell with his onto his motel room bed. His fingers...in her hair, on her body..pressing and...his mouth...
A sound crossed with a gasp and moan sounded from her lips as she dropped her hand to let the shades close before her eyes. Her eyes closed, her mouth still open. She felt everything right there, as if she were in that moment with him again.
But she wasn't. He was gone. He'd left her.
The fact was, they had never taken the time to establish what they were or what was between them. They just...were. Which was something they had both needed so badly at the time. Not just the sex, but the closeness. They had truly cared for each other, but never had to say it. It was just there. And she hadn't realized how much she had held onto that. It took him no longer being a phone call away, or a breath away, to realize that she had loved him. For what they had, the friend he had been to her, and the simpleness of the man he had been.
She'd been ignoring it all. Pushing it from her mind, working. Working as much as she possibly could to forget. Unfortunately, it didn't work. It still hurt like hell. Especially right then. When she fell to the floor, hugged her knees, and once more let herself break into shaking, painful tears for him.
Agent 99
Get Smart
795
Suicide to think of you//But I still like the pain//The consequence of losing to you//But I still play the games ~Jackalope
Nine weeks. It had been nine weeks, just over two months, since he had left her. Deep down, she knew it hadn't been his choice. She knew he hadn't wanted to...die...but he did. And all she could feel, aside from the overwhelming numbness, was that he had left her. She hated him first. Before all the other feeling, right after Sam called to tell her what happened. She wanted to bring Dean back to life herself and shoot him in the heart, because it felt like that was exactly what he had done to her. Especially more so in the following week, when Sam let it slip about Dean's deal. The fact that Dean had known the last time he saw her was probably it. The last time. And he just let her kiss him goodbye and leave, expecting to see him again soon. For that, she wanted to force a blunt object through his heart. She hated him for weeks. Wouldn't go see Sam. She just lost herself in the job.
Almost immediately, she took a long job, followed by another. And another. That was the irony. Before Dean, she loved long jobs. They lasted, they kept her doing something for long stretches of time. But in the year with Dean, as they got closer, she started preferring the short jobs. The short jobs meant she'd have a chance to see him more often. She'd have chances to lay in his arms and feel his heat so close to her own. Their embarrassing, soft whispers and chuckles as they pressed to each other limb to limb, skin to skin, as close as they could get. More moments to get so pissed at him she'd want to shoot him, but then he'd smile and it would all just...fade away.
But then he left. And she couldn't face the short jobs. She couldn't have time with nothing to fill it. So she worked. She worked and she avoided Sam's calls in the beginning. They didn't come often, then they didn't come at all. She was worried, but she just couldn't speak to him.
And it had been just over two months. She was in Mexico, on a job, and a noise outside her hotel room woke her up. A car backfiring. She stepped over to the window and pushed the shade aside. Anything small to occupy her wandering mind. Her eyes dropped to the road and she stared at the car. Everything inside of her dropped. Every brick she had built to hold herself up in his absence were starting to crumble to her feet.
An Impala.
Not like his. Not as nice and well kept, but she'd spot that brand car anywhere. Suddenly, sensatory flashbacks slammed through her system. The scent of his skin, mixed with shampoo, open air, sweat....and everything him. His hands holding her hips tight, and his waist pressed against her own. His lips, slightly chapped always, but soft, pulling at hers. Drifting across her neck and jaw. The stubble on his cheeks, scratching her skin but in an incredibly delightful way. His whispered goodbye in her ear, that she hadn't known would be the last. The feeling buzzing between them of wanting each other so badly, once more before she left. Her clothes leaving her body, and the air chilling her naked skin as her body fell with his onto his motel room bed. His fingers...in her hair, on her body..pressing and...his mouth...
A sound crossed with a gasp and moan sounded from her lips as she dropped her hand to let the shades close before her eyes. Her eyes closed, her mouth still open. She felt everything right there, as if she were in that moment with him again.
But she wasn't. He was gone. He'd left her.
The fact was, they had never taken the time to establish what they were or what was between them. They just...were. Which was something they had both needed so badly at the time. Not just the sex, but the closeness. They had truly cared for each other, but never had to say it. It was just there. And she hadn't realized how much she had held onto that. It took him no longer being a phone call away, or a breath away, to realize that she had loved him. For what they had, the friend he had been to her, and the simpleness of the man he had been.
She'd been ignoring it all. Pushing it from her mind, working. Working as much as she possibly could to forget. Unfortunately, it didn't work. It still hurt like hell. Especially right then. When she fell to the floor, hugged her knees, and once more let herself break into shaking, painful tears for him.
Agent 99
Get Smart
795