GOD'S BLESSING ( dean winchester.. ) ✔

o3. i forgot our lives sucked..

"Macau!" Rita shouted as she only held one more card in her hand.

"Fuck off," Dean groaned. At the end of that irritation, a little chuckle sneaked into his deep voice. Then, he stared down at his remaining five cards and knowing he will just have to draw another from the pack.

Which he did.

"Oh, come on," Rita frowned. The card she had didn't match the one before so she drew another card too.

Satisfied with this small win, even if all the ten games before have been won by the girl, Dean put a card down over the upwards facing stack, then placed his own cards down, hidden under his arm. He took the beer next to him, "I feel good about this one."

"You said that last time too," with a concentrated frustration, Rita had to draw another card. Now she had three, while Dean had five. "And all the times before."

Dean took a swing from the beer and sighed happily, even if the taste remained as bitter as ever. The alcohol never started tasting good, not the strong one; it's always been just a pretty lie adults would tell themselves instead of admitting that the truth was hidden behind some masochism.

Instinctively, he leant forward to pass the bottle to the girl across from him at the kitchen table. Usually, on the other side of the table would be his brother, that smart giant, or if there was a change of scenery, at least Castiel. It's been a while since Dean enjoyed the company of a woman without expectations of more.

Of course, the pending dread of times was still hanging above them like some guillotine. But just then, it felt nice.

"I have my own," Rita refused him lightly by holding up her right hand where, between her fingers, laid the half smoked cigarette from a pack she found lying around.

"Macao," she called after a while of silence again.

"For someone that ran out of luck, you surely are lucky right now," Dean frowned. Quite the type to get annoyed with losing, he let his cards face down on the table. It was a discreet move to let her know that he was done playing.

Rita looked at Dean's hand over his cards, barely lifting her head. She smirked, "It's not luck. You're just really bad at playing."

"Who wouldn't be? This unknown Bulgarian game is unnecessarily complicated," he complained, seeing as Rita finally raised her eyes to meet his.

Sam and Castiel have been out for almost two days now and though she felt odd being in the home of some random people, the more time passed, the more she felt that she was in the right place. It was one of the talents Rita always overlooked: making any place her home.

Though Dean tried to retreat to his room and give her a silent treatment of ignorance until his brother and the angel were back, Rita snooped around enough to find an old deck of cards. With big eyes and the charm of a pretty privilege, she changed his mind and they have been playing card games, listening to music... It was so casual that it almost seemed untrue.

"Since you've always been lucky, I assume you were born rich?" Dean asked, changing the subject with a very shy curiosity. Somewhere, deep down, he could have said he was almost jealous to know a safe life was not impossible.

"No," Rita smiled, though her smile seemed forced, even to her. "I didn't have parents."

She stared down blankly at the table, because with this subject, asked about something from her past, she was enlightened to that blurred gap in her memories. Rita never tried to give them too much attention, and then was not a start for her subconscious self-defense mechanism to take a break. Or so she thought.