So, You're a Fucking Virgin

Chapter 11

"I thought bedroom you would be different"

Dean's words rang in your head.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester." you mumbled out loud to an audience of none as you paced your room.

Where the fuck does he get off? What the fuck did he expect from you? This was exactly everything you didn't want to happen.

Well, you would have to move out of the bunker now. That much was obvious. Except (haha) you fucking couldn't because you still had to translate the goddamn angel tablet and that's not exactly a responsibility you could just drop. How had Cas so eloquently put it "You are a prophet of the Lord, always and forever until the day you cease to exist"?

Yeah.

Fuck.

The next day you were doing your usual tablet research in the library across from Sam when Dean sheepishly took a seat at the end of the table.

"Morning" he mumbled under his breath.

Sam nodded in his direction. You did nothing. Sam's eyes darted between you and Dean suspicious over the lack of greeting.

"You know" you started not looking up from your texts "I read somewhere that ancient definitions of the word 'virgin' say that it was merely a woman who was sexually independent. You know sexually unattached. So she didn't need a partner and just belonged to herself and didn't need anybody else's weak ass bullshit."

"That...ummm...sounds like a loose translation." Dean had the audacity to joke.

"I'm sensing some weird tension here." Sam chimed in.

"Nope. No tension at all, Sam." you falsely reassured gathering your books and left for your room.

Sam and Dean jumped a half foot out of their seats when you slammed your door. Super mature, but you didn't really care at the moment.

"So, I take it things didn't go to plan last night?" Sam ventured.

"Not exactly." Dean said.

"I sat through Les Mis, because it's the only thing in theaters right now, and it didn't even happen?"

"Come on, you love that cultured crap."

"It was three hours of singing. There was one spoken line in that movie, Dean. One."

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "It was awkward and weird and I thought it would be fun, but it wasn't. And she wouldn't stop joking, Sam."

"Yeah, it's ______. She's jokey. It's a defense mechanism. It's who she is. It's what she does. Hell, it's what you do." Sam half yelled.

"I know." Dean said almost ashamed. "but I was hoping we might get passed that. So, I might have said something."

"Dean...what did you say?"

"I said." he paused taking a deep breath "I thought you would be different....or 'I thought bedroom you would be different' or something like that."

Sam picked up one of the lighter books and hit Dean upside the head.

"No. BAD." he chastised as if Dean were a dog.

Dean's hands went up defensively. Sam hit him a couple more times.

"Ow stop." Dean cried. "STOP."

Sam set the book down.

"Did you at least try and apologize?" Sam asked.

"No. She left and I just let her go." Dean confessed, eyes downcast.

"My God, you are such an idiot" Sam breathed. "You need to fix this. You need to fix this, now." Sam ordered.

"I KNOW, ok? I know. But what do you want me to do? Obviously, me and ______? It just isn't going to work. She's never going to let her walls down around me."

"Since when do you care if the women you sleep with let their walls down?" Sam wondered.

"Sam, we both know _____'s not just another woman." confessed Dean.

"Yeah, I know I just wanted to hear you say it." Sam smirked.

"Bitch." Dean said pushing Sam lightly.

"Jerk." Sam pushed him back. "Well, if you're not gonna sleep with her you have to at least apologize and let her down easy. Not sure how much good it will do, but it would probably be better than nothing."

"Yeah, I know." Dean said.

Dean had actually stayed up all night after you left, first chucking all the candles then retracing the route from his door to yours about fifty times, coming so close to knocking, but never actually doing it. He had tried to think of something, anything to say to you to make it ok. To let you down easy. Because it was somehow apparent to him that you two would never work in the way he or, even, you wanted. By morning he had come up with exactly nothing.

So now, he had the time it took to get from the library to your door to figure it out. To try and form the words.

In the end, Dean did what he does best.

He lied.

"Because I know." This was the finale of the Dean-letting-you-down-easy-special. The beginning and middle of which amounting to nothing but white noise to you. "I know, okay? With that first one you fall hard and you fall fast. And it would hurt you more if you fell and the other person wasn't there for you, didn't feel the same way. And I don't think I do. I wish I was the guy who could just sleep with you and that's it. Hell, I usually am that guy. But you're my friend and I wouldn't want a guy to screw you over like that, so I can't let myself be that guy."

"Ok, yeah. I get it you don't like me, ok? Or you like the version of me that doesn't actually exist or some fucking bullshit like that" you said.

"Were you even listening? That's not it."

"That's exactly it, Dean. God, I wish I had just slept with some rando, because that devastation of being immediately shuffled off would be so much better than this."

"I'm sorry." he tried.

"Just go." you ordered.

"_____, come on."

Hot tears began to roll down your face.

"Dean, you have one second to get out of my room. I have guns and you know I know how to use them."

And with that you were left all alone.