5 Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her - NC17 - Chloe/Dean - Part 1/5
Title: Five Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her
Category: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.
5 Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her
1/5
I.
She rarely went on hunts with them. Dean's answer to her lack of hunting in their odd little triangle of friendship was always the same: "You're a girl... Go do girl things... Like... I dunno, something girly!" Which really translated to: "It's dangerous. I won't risk you getting hurt!" Which was sweet in an overprotective and unneeded way. She was used to the hero trip, so she let it slide. It wasn't like she needed any more weird in her life as it was.
She wasn't technically part of their team, really. After a run in a few years back where she inadvertently saved Sam and solved their case for them, they struck up a little deal where when they needed her help (ie. Hacking skills, weirdometer, supernatural knowledge, etc), they called her up and asked for her assistance. Well, more specifically, Sam phoned her. Dean was never willing to put his pride on the line by admitting he hadn't yet figured something out. It was rare anyway; they were both far more skilled in the area of hunting than she could ever be. But sometimes they thought too hard, looking for a much more complicated answer than what was there. She supposed it was part of living the life of a hunter; always expecting the worst.
Anyway, this was one of those very rare instances where Dean gave in and let her come along. And this is what she got for pressuring him into letting her just this once. She helped them solve the case, mostly just by putting in her thoughts and them slowly connecting the puzzle pieces until the picture fit. So it was a group effort, but she still wanted to be there to see it all go down. She wasn't far and she managed to show up at their motel door in a couple hours. They were just getting ready to go out and all she had to do was grin before Dean was shaking his head. "No! No way! You're staying here, Blondie and that's that." Of course, as stubborn as he thought he was, he still caved in. Because whether or not he said she couldn't go, she had her own car and her own arsenal in her trunk. She'd be there one way or another and he figured rather than letting her sneak up on them he'd bring her along. At least that's what he said, but secretly she was pretty sure he just liked seeing her in action.
She hadn't been a damsel in distress for years. She was strong, fit, and maneuvered well with whatever weapon was passed her way. Her work with the League helped out, though she didn't work with them anymore. She passed the torch to Oracle and now Chloe happily worked various other projects including Isis and random jobs for Dean and Sam while still being one of the best solo investigative reporters in her field. She had a lot on her plate and some days the idea of just passing it on to someone else's shoulders seemed like a relief. The problem was that she'd been working most of her life and when vacations came around she was bored stiff with the lack of excitement and wonder.
So here she was, getting her monthly dose of weird and danger and she just so happened to get thrown through the window of the building their current demonic force was residing in. She was lucky, really, which she told Dean despite his muttering of "Son of a bitch! I told you! I knew she shouldn't-This is just what I thought would-NEVER again!" She missed the pike's sticking out of the ground by about a foot, just barely. Sure healing came in handy... When she was helping someone else. It didn't turn on and off like a faucet and she had to way to make sure that whatever scrape she got into today or tomorrow was sure to heal quick or easy. So landing away from the pike was just a small miracle. Not that Dean would listen.
He was pacing and ranting and waving his hands around in the air as if battling some invisible attack. Sam, fed up, had already left. He said something about needing to get some fresh air, sent her an apologetic half-shrug and then left the room, leaving her to sit on the bed, her leg elevated on a pillow. Wasn't it just her luck that in the end she still managed a sprained ankle? She watched Dean with both amusement and irritation. It was sweet of him, really, to worry so much. But, seriously? She was fine. And she'd be fine the next time she talked him into letting her battle whatever creature he was up against next week or month or whatever.
"Dean," she called, interrupting his rant.
"-you just couldn't leave well enough alone. Couldn't stay in your cushy apartment with the state of the art alarm system and all of my protection symbols! You're always getting into trouble and-"
"You put protection spells in my apartment?" She furrowed her brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Where?" She shook her head. "When?"
"-doesn't matter that you almost always die for everybody else. Like ya got a goddamn death wish or something!" he half-shouted. "Oh Dean, it's just one hell demon! Come on, I promise I won't get hurt! I'll be extra careful," he mocked, sounding very much unlike her. "But noooo... You just had to tempt him. You couldn't let the professionals deal with it because that would be too friggin' smart!"
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Dean, you had it so under control... You're forgetting the part where if I hadn't distracted him, you and Sam wouldn't have had the opportunity to kill him."
"We woulda been fine!" he yelled. "Which is more than I can say for you if you'd been just a foot to the right!" His chest was heaving, his shoulders tensed and she finally looked at him; really looked at him. He was... upset. Not just in that "I'm in a pissy mood - I need beer and hot women" way, but in that "I'm so scared, all I can do is yell" way that usually only came up when the matter concerned Sam.
She swallowed, eyes falling, feeling sorry for pushing his buttons. "I'm sorry," she murmured, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. "I didn't mean to scare you."
He scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away like he was unaffected.
She smiled slightly. Same old Dean. "I just wanted to help." When he opened his mouth to rebut, she quickly interrupted, "And yes, I know, it was very thoughtless and stupid and careless and a million other adjectives for my mistake. But..." She lifted a shoulder. "I'm okay, right?" She smiled up at him.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, his frown still firmly in place.
She held her arms out. "Look," she said, motioning to her torso. "No pike hole!"
He lifted a brow, snorting and then walked over to the bed, motioning his head down toward her elevated foot.
"What, that? Psh..." She waved her hand at it. "That's nothing... Couple days, some ice, I'll be back to kicking demon ass in no time."
He frowned.
"Too soon to ask what your next hunt is?" she asked, smiling lightly.
He sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her hurt foot, just staring at it for a moment and she knew he was probably beating himself up. Because that's what he did; when he couldn't save those he cared about, even if it was just a little sprain, he brooded over it for ever. The last time she got hurt, he didn't talk to her for three months. If she called, he handed the phone to Sam. If she showed up, he suddenly had to go out for something to eat or down to the bar. He absolutely refused to be around her, until she shouted him deaf with all the reasons he was being a pigheaded jerk and he finally admitted that he couldn't be there to save her ass all the time and he didn't want that day to come, the day he wasn't looking close enough and she made a fatal mistake. And despite how worried he looked, despite how much he probably wanted her to tell him that yeah, sure, he was right and she should step down and walk away - she didn't. She told him to suck it up and that if she wanted to be a part of this life, she would, whether he wanted her to or not. And because he was Dean, he pretended he didn't care, but he did start talking to her again.
But now they were back to that same argument, the one where things were said, but never the right things. He never told her why it mattered so much to him that she stay alive and unhurt. And okay, maybe she was being a little selfish because most people want their friends or even just people in general to stay safe and alive and out of harms way. But she wanted to know why her possible (and likely inevitable) death was such a big deal to him. But she wasn't going to say that, just like he wasn't going to tell her why without some kind of push and she wasn't willing to do that. Because it was her... and her background said enough about men to tell her not to step out onto that thin trapeze line that was her heart. More than likely, especially with a guy like Dean, she was going to fall off that rope and there wouldn't be a net to catch her, so she and her previously mended (over and over again) heart would be broken and shattered and this is one fall she knew she just wouldn't get up from.
He reached out, his hand steady and if it were anybody else, she'd pull her leg away from his as quickly as she could, just to be sure they didn't accidentally poke it in the worst place possible. But she didn't so much as flinch as his fingers touched her swollen ankle, stroking it lightly, fingers running along the purple bruise that ringed her ankle. He just stared downward, lips pressed in a firm line, brows furrowed, eyes so intense it was as if he was trying to mentally fix her. Which nearly made her snort because really, this was Dean, and if it were a different situation, he'd tell her to stop being a baby and walk it off. Or well, he'd tell Sam that, anyway.
After she was hurt, he looked fierce, ready to go back in and kill the hell creature all over again. But instead he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the Impala, all the while muttering under his breath, which she could feel skittering over the side of her neck as she held onto him, her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around him. He didn't talk to her or Sam the entire ride back, instead blasting Metallica out of the speakers and then she really knew he was upset because Metallica was reserved for moments where he needed serious "calm down" time. He didn't say anything as he picked her up out of the backseat of the Impala, somehow gentle despite looking ready to scream his head off, and walked her into the motel room, putting her down on his bed and stuffing a pillow beneath her leg before he started pacing back and forth, hands on his sides, nose flaring, scowl in place and anger radiating off of him in waves. She didn't blame Sam for leaving. If her foot had been better, she would've left too.
But then... she might just miss this very rare tender-Dean moment and maybe it was worth the pacing and the yelling, the frowning and the scowling, the ranting and raving, and even the sprained ankle. Because his touch was unusually soft, despite the calluses on the pads of his fingers, which just served to make her tingle up her knees, between her thighs and right down into the pit of her stomach. His fingers drew random shapes along her ankle, so soft it felt like a barely-there caress, enough to leave her wanting more but not so much that she was sure that talk was anywhere near in coming. Because as rare as these moments were, where he showed that tiny little bit of himself that had some sort of feelings for her other than that pesky reporter friend of his, they never ended how she wanted them to, much to her denial.
He leaned forward, the bed dipping slightly at his movement and her breath caught in her throat. This was new...
His lips pressed against the darkest area of the bruise, surprisingly soft and comfortingly warm. They stayed for a second longer than what would be acceptable given the situation. He leaned away and she felt the tenseness of the situation.
"All better?" she murmured.
He smirked back at her, but she saw something soft in his eyes.
"You know it, sweetheart," he said before lifting up from the bed. "I'm gonna go find Sammy, maybe pick up some grub on the way back. You want anything?"
"Coffee," she said rather absently.
He chuckled under his breath before grabbing his leather jacket and pulling it on. "Stay off your foot. I'll be back in awhile," he said before leaving the motel room.
As soon as the door closed, she wiggled her foot around. Good as new. She hadn't said anything but she felt the inner warmth at her ankle as he kissed her. She wasn't sure how he activated her powers, but the second those lips touched her skin, her ankle started to mend. Maybe it was the emotional connection - it seemed it always worked best in overly emotional situations. And yeah, she could admit for that moment that having Dean kiss her all better was pretty damn startling. Sure there was the odd peck on the cheek and a few times he even strayed to her forehead or temple, but it just seemed so much more intimate to have him do what he just had. With the caressing and that intense look in his eyes.
Her chest warmed as she touched the faded bruise around her ankle. Her lips quirked at the corners with a smile and she shook her head. There was no way that he would've done that for just any old girl. He could go on pretending that he didn't care. The "talk" could go unsaid; their feelings kept to themselves. Because deep down, she knew... She knew that he worried about her, that he tried to keep her from coming on hunts, that he went out of his way to argue with her in hopes that maybe this one time she really will stay home instead of driving out to see them on their hunt, all for one very good reason. He was totally in love with her.
[Next: Part II.]
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