"And once we are inside the house, the ghosts of here children appear" Sam narrates "No way" you say thrilled, too caught up in the story.
Dean smiles at your way, as he gets up to go the bar, ask and pay for another round for all of the three of you. The barwoman smirks at him flirtatiously and he smiles at her before he turns towards your table.
He takes a moment to look at you, focused in the story Sam is telling you, your deep interest evident in your face.
He chuckles to himself when you make a grimace of suprise at something Sam tells you, he no longer hears. God, he has missed you. And he hadn't realised how much. Not until he met you again.
Your friendship was special. This could propably sound cliché, but, hell it was. It was not about the way you met, or something you did. Okay, maybe it was about what you did too. Like, there weren't many teenage best friends that trained together at shooting, or fist fighting. But the main thing was how it felt.
If someone were to describe your relationship with Dean, with just one word, that would definitely be 'easy'. It started easily, in no time, and that's how it went ever since. You felt comfortable around each other and it felt so natural to just be yourselves.
You always understood him. You understood his need to take care of Sam, joining him on his mission from the beginning. You understood he had a duty, to be a good soldier to his father. Hell you were just like him on that matter, your own father's parenting methods were pretty close to John's.
And you understood the burden of all these. You were the only one who he would share that part with. He wouldn't open up to Sammy, because he needed to be strong, perfect, for him. And he definitely wouldn't talk with his dad about it, because he would think he was weak. But with you, he felt like he could.
Most of the time he wouldn't talk about it of course. He never was the one to talk about his feelings, chick flick way and stuff. And although you sometimes would lure him up and he would even speak, most of the time he didn't need to. You would look at his face, realising that something was wrong. That's the point where you usually would furrow your eyebrows, trying to read him out. You would spend some minutes studying his attitude and movements, and then you would find it.
Easy. The same, familiar easiness every fucking time. At this point, you always talked about it, without waiting for an answer, knowing that you propably wouldn't get one. At least a cooperative one. You knew really well that he never liked talking about that stuff. But you were also very aware that he needed to hear these. So, you laid down your monologues, starting with brutal resonating of the situation. This helped him see things a little bit cooler, in a more objective way. And then you would look at the situation in a more emotional way. Starting from third people's points of view if were any, finishing with his.
His favourite part, if he was honest, where he would start feeling good with himself, again. You searched to find the cause of his emotions, and then you came up with justifying them. He never knew if you were completely objective, but it, honestly, seemed fair, and it felt good. When you were done, he would pretend that he didn't want to hear that stuff, dismissing it, saying he was fine. And you would play along. "Right", "okay" you would always nod, dropping the subject, having already done what you wanted. It was always exactly the same. Always specific, planned, methodical. But, at the same time, feeling natural. He would smile at himself in the end. When you weren't looking.
So, damn yeah, special. Laying eyes on you again, he thinks for just a second, how on earth did he survive four years without you. He shakes off that thought. 'Do not get attached' he reminds himself knowing that after this night out you're gonna take different roads. He takes your drinks, without really looking at the flirty barwoman, lost in his thoughts. He manages to clear his head a little when he joins you on the table again where you're laughing along with Sam. He looks at you both, smiling waiting to get back into the conversation.
