Erase All The Downsides (DESTIEL)

Five

Lisa was waiting for him when he forced himself to leave Castiel's apartment, sent away with a gentle kiss to the cheek. He sat in his car for twenty minutes, trying to remember how to breathe on his own. She raised an eyebrow at him when he stumbled through the door, exhausted and bleary eyed.

"Dean, are you drunk?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood from the couch.

"No," he mumbled as he kicked his shoes off. He felt boneless, like all of the anxiety has been pulled from his body, leaving him exhausted and heavy in the best way.

"Really? Because it looks like you're smashed," she countered.

"I'm just tired," he said, voice soft.

"We need to talk about whatever you're going through," she said.

"What are you talking about?" He pushed his hand through his hair, trying to breath in a bit deeper, he was getting fuzzier.

"I'm talking about the fact that you never seem to be happy, especially recently. Am I doing something wrong here? I'm really trying to be what you need, but that's hard when I can't tell what you need," She said.

"Yeah, you really can't huh?" He laughs a bit deliriously, "It's not your fault, I don't let you. You're not doing anything wrong, Lisa, it's me. It's my fucked up brain and my fucking itchy skin," he scratches at his arms like that is proving his point, but Lisa is still staring at him with confusion in her eyes. Dean sighs, dropping down onto the couch.

"Is this about your ex?" Lisa always had a way of surprising him, but this is next level. His head shoots up and some of the cloudiness washes away with the shock.

"What?" He breathes.

"I know she's the one who spoke at the charity event. Her name sounded familiar but I only realized when I saw the old photos in your phone. Is that what this is about? I know you two were pretty serious but that was, what? Three years ago?" She asked.

"Four," he says, rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, Lisa, I saw her at the event and now, I, I can't stop," he's one octave away from whining.

"You can't stop what? Thinking about her? Have you been seeing her?" There is an accusation hidden in her tone.

"No," Dean denies confidently, shoving away his anxiety so he could stand and face her. "No, I promise, I'm not cheating on you. It's just complicated. Our relationship was..." He can't finish his sentence.

"What?" She pushed.

"It was different. It wasn't like ours," it's not a good explanation, they both know it.

"Okay, how? If there's something you need, I can give it to you, or I can try. Dean, I can help you, you just have to trust me," she reaches out and touches his elbow but he folds in on himself and backs away from her touch. He turns his head away from the hurt look in her eyes at the action.

"No, Lisa, that's the thing. I trust you, fully, with anything else, but not this. You can't do this."

You're not her.

He physically bites his tongue so he wouldn't say it.

"Why not?" The frustration in her tone is making his teeth grind, "Just say what you're not saying, Dean!" She throws her hands up.

"She used to top me!" He's yelling it before he can bite his tongue again. Lisa's hands slowly lower back down to her sides, and she's staring at him in confusion again.

"What... What does that mean?" She asked in a whisper. Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat as he sat back down, placing his hands in his hair. The room was silent for a second as he regained control of his tongue.

"I was her sub. You can't do that for me because you don't want to and I don't want you to," he whispered. He couldn't look at her, but he heard the sound of a sigh and then the rustling of the arm chair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, the accusatory tone gone from her voice. It was just empty softness now.

"I was just trying not to hurt you," he said.

"Dean, if you need something that I can't give you, I'll understand that. It's obviously going to hurt, but things will be so much better for both of us if we have partners that can give us everything we need," she said. Dean looked up slowly, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, his eyes probably bloodshot.

"I'm so sorry, Lisa," his chest hiccuped.

"Dean," she cooed his name as she got up from the armchair and pulled him into her arms. "I'm not mad at you, I promise," she whispered with her fingers carding through his hair. He surrendered to her comfort, thankful that she was so understanding and kind. She's right, it was always going to hurt, but things will be better for the both of them when they have people who can give them what they need.